#absolute pish

[unseelie-ghuleh]

Newest tumblr update

#pure cannae see #tumblr is a mess #tumblr #squints in migraine #absolute pish

[owlsie-hoot]

Don't you dare question her perfection //

😝

(based on a silly conversation about gif 1 and 2)

#Audrey Hall #Siegfried Farnon #ACGAS #All creatures great and small #ACGAS 2020 #crack!set #Just a little bit of fun #please do not take this too seriously #the meme one was there first and the pish one followed #but Siegfried would never question that she is perfect #sometimes I make gif set that make absolutely no sense

[synthwayve]

Happy birthday!! Was genuinely so excited to see you come to tumblr to do art, and I’m so excited that you have joined the small bloodborne community here!! To brain rot and more in the future :D

Thank you!!! I actually had no idea we had met before until you pointed it out- it’s so wild to me in the best way! Thank you so much for the kind wishes :D here’s to brainrot!! 🥂

#asks #not art #its no longer my birthday (12:48 am) but pish posh LMAO) #THANK YOU #your tags make me so happy dude I love your tags #nothing quite like an absolute travesty rb

[acapelladitty]

Putting the final touches on a cohesive (for once) list of fic prompts that I've got to work through when i have a little downtime. As always, if there's anything you want to add then please let me know and i'll fire it on the slagheap!!

#got some absolute bangers on there and some fics which will definitely test some skills i haven't flexed in a while lol #riddler #scarecrow #sandman #resident evil #hannibal #etc #usual pish lads

[steeleyespan]

if i dont have like 100 hours of irl conversation with someone, when they deviate from the usual smalltalk "ye awrite" pish then i immediately turn into some scared woodland animal. or at least it feels like it it makes me feel like a scared and distressed 5 year old always

#frustrates me to no end i will literally sit and imagine having conversations with ppl and i have thousands of ideas on what the say #irl i immediately go fight or flight mode go bright red start sweating if someone asks me like. What kind of music i like 😭 #like i cant think its so annoyinggggffffff #and i never initiate conversation unless again its like hows ur weekend cos idk. am like what if its annoying to tell someone what i ddi on #the weekend #meanwhile very much aware and conscious of how people will just talk absolute pish constantly with no fear or shame #whadda hell man did being like lightly bullied in hs for being a bit cringe with it fuck me up this badly #sometimes i get bored at work and am like am gonny ask the next customer what theyre up to for the rest of the day #just for the thrill of the anxiety it gives me

[voidpetrova]

kai parker would be an absolute asshole while fucking you

“such a spoiled little bitch, aren't you?” under any other circumstances, his words would've brought tears to your eyes and a dagger to your pride, but right now? you were just too hot and bothered to care. kai knew all too well that he was too big for your tight little cunt. he knew you could hardly take him and that’s what made fucking you all the more fun and enjoyable. he had you folded in half like a sheet of paper with your hands pinned above your head with just one of his while lying down on his bed, his fingertips ghosting over your puffy and sore clit as he pounded into the tight ring of your pussy with a growl. he was in love with the way your eyes crossed and the way your back arched.

he gripped your hips so tight that his touch left bruises just to get you to stop grinding down on his throbbing dick. he could feel the overstimulation getting more and more prominent as a milky ring formed at the base of his pulsing cock, but you just couldn’t stop moving so desperately with your face buried into the pillow, letting out little whimper after whimper. he used his strength to hold you down onto him, burying himself deep into your clenching pussy as your hips rolled at the feeling of being completely full of his glazed shaft. you could feel his thick tip rub your insides with each twitch, together with his deep breaths brushing against your burning skin.

“stupid fucking slut,” he practically spat out, his thrusts only growing more and more aggressive as he drilled your hole open, practically molding your pussy into the shape of his cock. you loved it—you loved how much his words hurt, almost as much as his huge, throbbing dick splitting your tiny, tight pussy apart. “you like being daddy's little fucktoy?”

you could only nod eagerly, body quivering as your tits bounced with every forceful thrust. his piercing light blue eyes glared at you, a scowl forming on his face, expressing how much he disliked your lack of words. you barely had time to react when his rough, calloused palm struck your cheek, the stinging sensation only adding to your arousal. you gasped, but not a second too long before his same hand wrapped around your throat, his thumb pressing against your pressure point as if he could kill you right then and there. he very much could.

“i asked you a question, princess,” tears welled up in your eyes as he slid his cock out of your hole, leaving you clenching around nothing. in an awfully teasing manner, he slid the tip of his cock past your folds, pushing it up and down and collecting your arousal, but never giving you the pleasure of being filled up.

you almost choked on your own sobs, tiny jands clamping against his wrist in an attempt to push his hand off your throat, but it was no use. “'m sorry,” you whined, your distressed state leaving him with an angry, aching cock. your glossy eyes and swollen, wet lips were enough to pish him over the edge. “i love it—love being your fucktoy, daddy.” a cruel smirk painted his lips, satisfaction settling well enough for him to, without any warning, slam right back into your poor, abused cunt. the force had you wailing, but your cries only turned him on even more, his hands dropping to lift your legs into the air, giving him more space to go even deeper into your pussy, his tip hitting your cervix with every motion.

“all you're fucking good for,” he growled, hands coming down to deliver harsh slaps to your tits, fingertips pinching your nipples, twisting the hardened buds. he loved how much it hurt you; he loved how much hurting you turned him on. he knew you loved it, too. he knew it just from the look in your eyes that practically begged him to use you. “just a pretty little hole for me to fuck.”

his slaps moved from your tits to your cunt, two harsh hits delivered to your weeping clit. you clawed at his shoulders, nails dragging along his toned biceps as you threw your head back. “'s too much, kai, i can't,” you sobbed, the overstimulation getting to you. he knew you couldn't take it, but he couldn't care less. he brought a hand back to your throat, pulling you into him, his hot breath fanning your lips.

“you're gonna fucking take it,” his tone made your blood run cold, despite the way it made your juices drip down his shaft. “whether you want to or not.”

#tvd #the vampire diaries #tvd smut #the vampire diaries smut #the vampire diaries fanfiction #kai parker #kai parker x you #kai parker x reader #kai parker fanfiction #kai parker smut #kai parker x reader smut #kai x reader #tvd kai #tvd kai smut #the originals #legacies

[zorciarkrildrush]

@grupusdestroyerofworlds-blog saying that isn't Nazi behavior, of course it's not Nazi behavior.

But you don't have to look hard for examples of Nazi behavior, I'll help:

1. There are 5 current "Major wars", as well as several dozen other ongoing wars. Each one has tens of thousands of fatalities, if not hundreds of thousands (with particularly high counts in Syria, Russia/Ukraine, and Africa). There is also the Uyghur genocide in China, which is not classified as a war because there is no armed resistance against it, but is very well documented by actual investigative journalists. You wouldn't post about any of that, or go into random posts to start talking about it, because the only thing that matters (apparently) is one (1) conflict, the one with the Jews.

2. Your blog does not advocate for peace in Sudan, or freedom to the Uyghurs in China (who you might say are also tens of thousands - many more actually - of civilians brutally murdered by a brutal racist state), or any of that. No, you are much more comfortable sharing this:

On Oct 9th. 2 days after mass slaughter, rape and kidnappings of primarily Jews (and not only Jews), the absolute majority of them civilians, it was high time to signal to your lovely followers you support this 'resistance'. Hamas does not represent the PLO, by the way - that will be Fatah, part of the ongoing Israeli-Palestinian peace process and the government in the west bank. Hamas started a civil war against them, because establishing a Muslim-arab ethnostate in Israel/Palestine is their goal and soft-hearted concepts like peace and co-existence are laughable to them. But, pish posh, facts shmackts.

3. Finally, on a post about antisemitism in the US, which is surging by every possible metric, you decided to hijack the post and make the antisemitism something righteous which is actually related to Israel-Palestine, when it is not. It's about people of every political alignment in the US and worldwide feeling more comfortable to be antisemitic, including you, and using Palestinian liberation as a comfortable guise.

That is Nazi behavior, and you can get fucked. Fuck you for proving horseshoe theory is right, so long as hating Jews is involved.

#i/p #antisemitism

[extrajigs]

Wanted to expand on some domesticated animals of Mirum. These are basically cat-dog birds, ranging in size from cat to medium sized dog. Still need a name for group over all, suggestions appreciated! In depth info below the cut! 

1. The OG This is the wild ancestral form, basically the wolf to the dog. They are from the grass/shrub lands of Mirum and spend most of the year scrounging around for food until the end of the wet season. Once the floods are over they pop out babies like nobodies business while feeding on the debris left by the flooding. By the time fire season rolls around their numbers are pretty scarce. They travel in little groups with multiple hens and one big buff man! But this man does not necessarily need to be a male, or a bird even! They were the first species domesticated by the chimera and the only one to leave Mirum with them.  The ‘Natural’ Breeds These are just the morphs bred into these fellas without any magical manipulation involved, so they still look relatively close to their wild ancestors.  2. The Cupid  These are purely pets, originally kept just for eggs they lost that purpose as more efficient birds came around for that. Now they just make docile lil lapbirds. Though inattentive owners will find old eggs hidden throughout the house if they’re not careful. Most of the time though they tend to stay by their owners ankles.  3. The Ruff Fluffy lil guys who make for great pest control, they’re a very sporty breed despite everything and need a lot of energy to stop them from destroying their surroundings out of boredom. Will do well with another ruff or dog of similar size, though they can be a bit of a bully in the care of a lax owner. 4. The Gallop Literally just made for running, can keep up with a chimera at full sprint and at a normal long distance run. For those with a more active lifestyle. Though they will just as happily laze around all day, just happy to be included honestly. These are also the best swimmers of the natural breeds with their extra oily coat.  5. The Dome This is a purely ornamental bird, stocky and colorful they are the most relaxed of all the birds. Most prefer chimeric company to that of other birds and have a habit of separation anxiety when not with their owner. In line with that, these are the most accepting of chimeric ‘talk’ with most quickly getting accustomed to projected commands. Though please don’t overwhelm your bird, casting the full range of sentient experience unto lesser beings CAN and WILL cause them existential distress! Not to mention your personality may displace your pet’s. 6. The Fluff  The original pillow stuffing. These guys feathers are softer than any other. Keeping a mostly downy ‘undercoat’ for their whole life. That being said these guys can get absolutely RANCID if not kept clean and tidy. Only for the most advanced and attentive of owners unless you want an unholy dingleberry beast skulking around. They also are VERY bitey.  7. Crested These are historically for eating, but have grown to be a very pish posh fancy breed. Most are pure white, thanks to inbreeding, and albeit are not the sharpest tools in the shed. But if you are looking for a bird who may just ignore your commands but love you eternal, this is your bird! 

That’s them so far, will make the magical monstrosities later. Also wanted to try a different lineart style. Thin is nice but I miss my chunky brush. Glad to have tried it though! 

#mirum #chimera #chimera adjacent really #fantasy #birds #need name aaaah i cant think of a good one for these still tho HM #speculative biology #spec bio #Speculative Evolution #spec evo #art #no true north

[bits-and-babs]

✰ 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 - 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 ‘𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓’ 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

↳ summary: prompt: “You make me so wet." — A night at the pub with the 141 lads leads to a mortifying misunderstanding.

↳ pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader (Delta)

↳ [1k] content: 18+ MDNI. Alcohol, drunkenness, Soap being a loveable dick, Simon ‘eyefucking’ you, sexual tension 4 days, masturbation (f), exhibitionism, light dirty talk.

ghost masterlist I| main masterlist |I join taglist

The apples of your cheeks buzz, pins and needles crinkling the warm skin there. Your tongue feels numb and dry in your mouth like somebody layered cotton wool over your tastebuds. You wish you could blame your impotence entirely on the alcohol, but Ghost's hazel eyes stick firmly to your face, and you melt beneath their intense gaze.

A knowing chuckle sounds to your left, a solid shoulder nudging your own to wrench your attention away from the Mancunian skull face that filled your vision.

"Yer pished, aren't you, love?" Soap smirks, snapping you from your haze. Your meek smile does little to dull his laughter as he stands from the chair, the wooden legs scraping on the tiled floor of the pub. "I'm turnin' your tap off before yer absolutely rat-arsed." 

"You're no fun, Johnny," you whine after him, but he waves his index finger in your face-- you can't even follow it with your eyes. 

"Don't you start with yer 'Johnny' bullshit. It ain't gonna work on me!" 

Scowling, you watch after him as he approaches the bar, Gaz in tow as he shoots you a playful smirk. The cheeky bastard has the nerve to mouth 'sorry'. 

Resigning to a glass of water, you settle back in your seat and cross your arms over your chest in indignation. 141 always watched your six, even if that meant them being a little too overprotective of you. You pout your lips in frustration, gazing at the alcohol-glazed oak tabletop before flicking your gaze to Simon from under your lashes. 

You're startled, jolting in your seat. Simon's hazel eyes gaze at you shamelessly, unmoving as they focus on your face. Heat prickles at your cheeks when he fails to remove them once you've caught him staring, unabashed in his observation of your features. 

The throbbing sensation of your pulse in your cunt slams back into the forefront of your mind. It simmers deep in your abdomen, coiling and swirling so adamantly that you're desperate for friction. You feel yourself clench at the intensity of Ghost's stare, swallowing back the need that creeps up your throat in the form of a whine. 

Blinking slowly, you can barely help yourself as the alcohol grips your logical mind. You can hear the raucous laughter of Soap and Gaz as they banter with the barman, no doubt attempting to tease their way into some free drinks, but they're mostly drowned out by the thudding of your heart echoing in the shells of your ears. 

Tension builds between your thighs, and your stomach flips when he takes a deep breath in, his chest expanding with the oxygen in his lungs. Before you're even thinking about how lewd it is, your hips rock forward on the oak chair seat, chasing just enough friction to ease the intensity of your arousal. It doesn't work-- if anything, it makes it worse, and Simon continues to observe your struggle with indifferent eyes. 

'Ghost'. You mouth his name, lips struggling to make the right shapes as your jaw goes slack. The burning arousal between your thighs surges as you roll your hips just right, clit catching on the seam of your cargoes. 

You're getting antsy under his stare, gripping the tabletop with a white knuckle hold as you attempt to chase the arcing pleasure that curls around the base of your spine. You don't even care about the bars' other patrons, couldn't care less about the return of Gaz and Soap; they could tease you all you like- you need this. Working yourself up, you shove your free hand between your thighs, rocking your clit up against your wrist. 

"Fuck," you pant weakly, the singular vowel catching in your throat, "You make me so wet."

"Mhm?" Ghost's eyes flicker slightly to the left- to your face. Your hips stall under his true gaze, and your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach once you realise... He'd been looking over your shoulder at your teammates at the bar the whole time.

"Oh-" you choke out, embarrassment churning in your stomach and rising up your throat like bile, "N-Nothing, I'm so fucking stupid--"

"You heard me. Repeat yourself," Ghost's gruff voice rumbles in his chest. He's in no mood for games, his heavy-lidded eyes wholly settled on your face as he attempts to pry the information out of you. 

"N-Noth-"

"Don't make me pull rank on you, Delta." Ghost speak. Directly, that translates to Don't fuck me around. 

You swallow thickly, letting your eyelids slip closed as you try to urge the words from your lips. It takes a second, every atom in your body screaming not to tell Simon. Don't tell him, don't- "Y-You make me so wet..."

"S'What I thought you said," he rumbles, those amber irises swallowed by the blackness of his pupils as he glances down to your wrist, observing how it stays firmly pressed against your core.  

"I'm sorry-" you whimper, but Ghost just cants his head slightly in a vague shake. His chest heaves with a heavier breath pattern, and the overhead lights cast shadows on his ski mask, revealing that he's parted his lips as he watches you. 

"You're not. You're sorry you got caught, love," Ghost points out, but his tone has no accusatory edge. Instead, he's enjoying you like this, hot-faced and shy. You nod feebly and nearly jolt out of your seat when a pint glass of tap water crashes against the tabletop. 

"Ye look scared. Did Simon show ye his face?" Soap smirks, settling down in his seat beside you. He's got a glass of scotch in his hand, and if you weren't inebriated and horny as fuck you might have been able to string together a stupid joke, like one you'd hear Soap say over the coms. 

"N-No," you mumble weakly, eyes glued to the countertop. Gaz's eyebrow raises, seeing your obvious discomfort. 

"What did you do to her, L.t.?"

"Didn't do anything," the gruff Mancunian accent crawls up your arms, running a chill down your spine, "Just told her she'll be gettin' punished when we get back to base for getting hammered."

Something tells you that your sentence wont be 100 press-ups. 

join the taglist here:

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @Malici0uspuff1n

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod mw2 #ghost cod mw2 #ghost cod mwii #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #cod mw2 smut #call of duty smut #modern warfare smut #modern warfare 2 smut

[amanitaknowsbest]

I'm absolutely NOT saying that this is something Larian should implement, there is no existing basis for it in game and it was just something I toyed around with in my wobbly grey matter.

BUT.

One thing I actually loved about Dragon Age: Origins (I know, hang on) was that certain loved, unique gifts would get special cutscenes and later possible quests with companion characters.

I would have adored to gift Astarion pretty clothes, or some of the Shar/Selûne items to Shadowheart, or get Karlach some of the things she's missed while in Avernus (cold beer, citrus fruit, even really simple shit, like porridge with honey). I could go on for days on what gifts I think each character would like.

Or not like! I reckon Halsin would not really appreciate cut flowers, for instance, he would think they look nicest when they're thriving in the ground. I bet Jaheira would appreciate practical gifts, but pish-posh and quietly love little thoughtful baubles. Get Minsc miniature armour for Boo.

On Astarion again, because when am I not, I think he would love finery and pretty things. But get a portait drawn of him? Or some flowers (he would like cut flowers) with lovely meanings? Or even the equivalent of getting a second toothbrush for his tent, I bet, would keep him awake at night with his heart thudding.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #spoilers baldurs gate 3 #halsin baldur's gate 3 #astarion #halsin #astarion romance #jaheira #shadowheart #dragon age origins

[i984]

Sweet, Foolish

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader

|Warnings|: Ooc! Wednesday Addams, jealous(?) Wednesday Addams, girlie really be in love and just can't tell, you had a great Valentines because people gave you stuff, confession at the ending(?), author still don't know what they're doing.

|Summary|: They say too much of something is never good. Well, too much of something sweet proves different.

|A/n|: Happy Valentines Day, all!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You.

You were driving her crazy.

All smiles and laughs even though you were bedridden. Wednesday feels like slapping the stupid grin off your face. How can someone be so utterly foolish to trap themselves in this situation?

Wednesday has watched the pile of various sweets in your bag grow. Class after class, student after student professed their feelings for you, and with each candy, flower bouquet, and chocolate of many kinds, you kindly returned with bright smiles and grateful remarks. 

It's as if you truly appreciate all the cheesy scenes unfolding around you everywhere you go—something Wednesday would never dream of understanding in a million years. Now though, as you lay on one of the infirmary beds after eating too many sweets, the Addams girl somehow found herself sitting beside your laying body, brows furrowed in annoyance or concern, nobody knows.

It's all those incessant fools' fault.

"What's on your mind, pretty girl?"

"Do not call me that ever again," Wednesday pointedly glares at you when she hears your snicker, "or do you have a death wish?"

You hummed in mock consideration before answering, "Death may already be standing beside my bed with you, Wednesday," You rolled on your back, staring up at the ceiling. "Besides, you are pretty."

You said that to Enid this morning. And to Yoko's black scarf at lunch. And to the block of chocolate stupid Xavier gifted you. The bouquet of flowers and the bottle of honey Eugene shoved at you too. 

"You say that to everyone," Wednesday straightens in her seat, "not that I'm complaining." Her jaw clenches for the umpteenth that day when the smug look on your face grows. "What?"

"Nothing," you mumble, eyes scanning over the ravenette's features, "except for the fact that it's pretty clear you're jealous."

"You have an unconventionally large mouth for someone who claims to have severe stomachache."

"And you have an atypically deep blush for someone who claims to be above— Uh, what did you call it?" You make a show of tapping your fingers to your chin, brows raising almost teasingly. 

Maybe the sweets poisoning will catch up to you. Maybe, you'll die soon. Misery will surely be out my way.

"Oh yeah! 'A pish posh day full of ungodly sickening romance' was it?" you smirk as you raise your chin slightly. "Yet here we are."

There's an undefined silence that fills the air. Wednesday finds herself at a loss for any comebacks. She hates it because the phenomenon only happens when you're around. She also hates it because, with each passing second, your smugness practically suffocates the room. 

Tick. Tock.

The clock sounds obnoxiously louder than usual.

"You know, if I don't know any better, I would say jealousy is a nice color on you."

With your words, Wednesday finds her breathing hitched slightly.

"Good for you, I'm not."

"Not what?" You loll your head to the side.

"Jealous."

"Sure, Wens."

There was another prolonged silence until your mouth opened, "Enid told me something interesting earlier," you said almost conspiringly. "Apparently, someone has been asking her about what can be considered normal to give on Valentines day."

Do not trust anything the werewolf says. Surely nobody would be asking such a 'normal' question. Thing may be the one to do that. Definitely not anyone else, especially not me.

"Don't you wanna know who might've asked it? Or what the normal thing to give is?"

"Absolutely not."

"Incurious, I see," Your voice is tainted in mischief as you roll on your side, facing her. "Dark chocolate tastes quite nice— just saying."

Well. Enid has proven herself untrustworthy. Maybe her roommate deserves the pillow smothering. Wednesday pulls her shoulders back in an attempt to compose herself.

"Agreeable," the ravenette acknowledges carefully. "Though your decision to devour all the teeth-rotting delicacies all at once is not."

"Yeah, yeah," you wave a dismissive hand before propping yourself to sit up straight, resting your back on the headboard. Wednesday watched as you settled into your position before hearing a choked hiss from you.

Wednesday stopped breathing.

You grimaced at the sudden twist in your guts, arms coming to clutch your abdomen, attempting to soothe the discomfort.

If you had refused all those poor excuses of courting methods, maybe you wouldn't need to experience all this. I shall tell off those intrepid dunces next year for you. 

"You're in pain," Wednesday stated. Her face glowers when she trails the creases forming on your forehead.

You chuckle dryly. "Yes, a wonderful observation, Professor Addams. Your intuition amazes me as always," you simper. "I would also like to add that the sweetness is worth the pain. You wouldn't know this, of course. Your taste buds are most likely incapable of tasting sweet."

You're technically incorrect. Wednesday is sure her tastebuds work fine, though her body will reject the highly processed food upon the first swallow.

She'll give you a half point.

Wednesday carefully inspects your expressions. Your eyebrows seem to relax as you take notice of the vase of tulips on your bedside table. Your fingers delicately trace the outlines of the petal, a soft smile tugging at your lips subconsciously. 

I can bring you fresh tulips every morning. If you grow tired of them, I can grow you a different kind. Black dahlias are my favorite. What's yours?

"You look quite foolish, grinning like that," is what she says instead. Wednesday mentally slaps herself in agony, chest-puffing as she takes a deep breath to calm herself.

"Maybe, I am a fool."

Are you upset?

"For you."

"That statement is not the compliment you think it is," Wednesday rips her gaze from your face, eyes rolling in faux annoyance. 

"Oh, come on Wens," you let your head fall back and hit the wall, "don't you get it?"

"Get what?"

You groan openly into the room. "I specifically asked for you to accompany me to the infirmary. Why do you think I did that?"

"To pester me into an early grave?"

"No! I was trying to spend time with you," your hand comes up to massage your head. "I like you, okay?"

Wednesday blinks at your confession. 

Her eyes trail from your slightly scrunched-up nose to the smudged chocolate near the corner of your lips. You don't seem to notice it all this time, and Wednesday feels her fingers twitch at the urge to wipe the stain off you. Pugsley as a toddler had better table manners than you.

You're tolerable, at most.

"You're a fool," Wednesday lets the words out.

But you can see the ghost of a smirk on her face, her shoulders that relaxed, and the slight raise of her chin. 

Grinning ear to ear, you let out your final blow. 

"Your fool."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

|A/n2|: If you see me rush through that ending, no you did not :D It's not Valentines anymore for me, but it might still be for you guys so ye! Forgive me for the weird pacing :")

Tag list is in this post, please interact accordingly if you wish to be added!

#wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega x reader

[nashusglasses]

1. sweet, sticky, thick and pretty

(note: I can't stop listening to Bruno Mars!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! technically the title is from silk sonic but anywho :3) note 2: Not to be too anecdotal, but I was a loser all my 4 years of university. Don't know why I always have the urge to write about messy college experiences when all I did was make one singular friend. I also only ever went to *one* official frat party! Absolute Loser behaviour!! What I'm saying is I'm projecting hard and LOVE writing about hot asshole men!!!!!!!!! Oh boy!!

PAIRING. gojo/reader SETTING. college au WARNINGS. alcohol and drug consumption, player!satoru but in the sexiest way possible. suggestive content SUMMARY. It's too late for this.

Satoru’s got his white shirt dirty with grass stains. You don’t know what kind of roughhousing Suguru put him through before you got here, but all you know is there’s a keg outside in the backyard and Satoru’s hair is mysteriously wet. You get your answer when he tries to stick his tongue down your throat and he smells too much like beer.

“Absolutely not.” You block his mouth with a hard hand. “Can you please move? I just saw Natsume here.”

“I don’t fucking care. Kiss me.”

“Or what?”

Something coy flashes in Satoru’s face. He probably thinks he’s got you trapped. Hopeless in the dark corner of this hallway, and if you strain your ears hard enough you think you hear weird squelching noises from the room behind you. But all you feel is the annoyed urge to push him back till he stumbles off, embarrassed. There’s nothing more insistent than a drunk Satoru. There’s also nothing you want to punch more than a drunk Satoru.

“I called you. Thirty six times.”

“It was twice, and I was napping after my exam.”

He rolls his eyes. “Pish posh. Listen. Come over tonight.”

“No.” You shove at his shoulder. Except it’s a little rougher than you anticipated, but it’s still nice to see him lose balance. He won’t get angry. Not when he’s horny out of his mind. “I’m finding Natsume now.”

“What if I said pretty please?”

“Then I’ll shove you harder till you eat shit,” you snort. But you don’t get very far when you try to walk on ahead. Satoru’s strong when he wants to be. He’s got a hot hand wrapped around your wrist, a cement block for weight when you try to pull back.

“Stop ignoring me,” he says. “I told you I wanted you.”

“And then I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

“Sometimes I hear things and then I choose not to understand them,” he explains. He closes the distance again. You wonder how many girls have fallen prey to this tactic. Using his height for advantage, the way the corner of his mouth lifts when he wants to look needy. You know he’s grasping at straws, though. His contact list is heavy with the chance to get his lap wet whenever he wants, and even though you’re not sorry for being the additional number, you’re angry that he ever thought you’d be the easier lay.

“Okay. I’ll say it one more time. Just for you.” You tiptoe up to his ear, make sure your every breath lands hot where it’ll make him shiver. “I don’t want you to call me. I don’t want you to look at me. And I want you to leave me alone.”

Satoru’s placid. No expression to dissect when you stand back down, and his grip is lax now. Natsume’s probably halfway done with that first pre-roll she told you she had. You’re almost greedy for the heat in your chest that blunt promises. Sitting on that scratchy couch while your head gets light enough to reconsider Satoru’s proposition. 

You won’t. Even if you do miss the way he feels under you. A part of you wants to say that it’s only out of self-respect, but it’s funny seeing him so desperate. You’ll gloat about it later when Natsume asks you where you’ve been.

Something in Satoru clicks, and he’s grabbing your wrist again. “There’s just–something about you.” 

“Satoru, you’re drunk. We’ve been over this. I know I’ve got godly legs and a tight pussy but you’re just–”

“A man whore,” he finishes for you.

You nod sympathetically. “I’m glad you get it. Do you want me to find Suguru for you?”

“I want you to kiss me,” he complains. “Holy fuck. I’m–I’m fucking drunk. And I told you I wanted you, and I told Akane that she has great tits but not as great as yours, and she slapped the shit out of me, and I told you I wanted you but you don’t want me back.”

“Why the hell would you say that?” You’ve seen her before. Linguistics 202. She’s smart, has killer fashion sense, and Natsume hates her because her eyelashes are long and curled and not fake at all. “You’re so goddamned stupid. I’m going now.”

“I know. I know I’m stupid. Just–before you go.” You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t block my number. Please. That’s all I’m asking.” 

You’ll give him points for begging. The door to the room with mysterious noises opens, and two girls with messy hair filter out noiselessly. No witness to Satoru’s groveling. But you’re kind, so you leave him with a wet kiss to his cheek just to see his eyes go wide. 

“Tell Akane you’re sorry. Then come find me when you’re sober,” you say. 

When you turn around, you text Natsume to find where she is. 

You don’t notice Satoru squeezing his eyes shut, cheeks burning hot, half-hard from the feeling of your mouth on his skin.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo scenario #gojo scenarios #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk scenarios

[ceilidhtransing]

This isn't the kind of stuff I usually post about, and I have zero interest in Drama, but I want to talk about a tangential element that the whole James Somerton Debacle has rather highlighted. I saw someone say something along the lines of “who would expect a business grad to have the skill of reading from a variety of sources and synthesising their ideas into good original media analysis content” and like... yeah.

It's such a common refrain to shit on arts and humanities degrees by going “what's that actually teaching you? What skills do you even get from that? It's all useless, it's not relevant to anything, you come out of that sort of degree with nothing but pointless facts on obscure literature or some pish like that”. But no, the distinct skill of learning from a variety of sources and developing the information and perspectives into new unique work of your own is the bread and butter of such degrees, and it is not a skill everyone has.

I feel like those of us who have been trained to do this (or who have developed the skill through their own independent learning outside of an academic institution) have a tendency to devalue it, to forget that it's an actual skill, to assume everyone just does this on the reg. And the idea of simply copying and pasting excerpts from other people's work, without credit, into your work and calling it a day wouldn't even cross our minds as a thing to do, because it's so obvious that the end result would be absolutely terrible, full of points that don't connect, ideas that don't go anywhere, sections that seem to lightly contradict, writing styles that don't cohere. I'm still stunned that anyone would have the audacity to do that, not just on an ethical level, but also on a quality level - is it not obvious that what you would produce by that method won't be very good?

I don't know this person, and I don't want to speculate too much - I don't know whether he genuinely lacks this skill, or if he has the skill and is too lazy to utilise it (though given the standard of his videos, I would hazard a guess at the first, because surely if this was a thing you were good at, your every instinct would be screaming at you to spend a short amount of time just tidying everything up, making it cohere, linking ideas together, doing something to make it better than a load of quotes haphazardly chucked together). What I do know is that this whole incident shows up perhaps better than anything before the very skill that a humanities background gives you, precisely by demonstrating what humanities-style content done without that skill looks like.

Hbomberguy does make the point in his video that creatives often don't value their skills because to them, they're just second-nature; they don't register as skills anymore. And a very similar thing goes on with people with humanities backgrounds. Artistic, creative, literary, intellectual skills get devalued by society all the time. But this stuff is valuable, something that evidently not everyone has or bothers with, and ideally I'd like to see a whole lot less of “but what does a degree like that even teach you”.

#hbomberguy #youtube #humanities #my posts

[my-soupy-brain]

Ted’s shy about going shirtless around y/n. She assures him he has nothing to worry about

This man. And listen, Jason wears hoodies but we know what's under there and it's that perfect damn torso that we all wanna see. GOD WHY HAVE YOU TAKEN THIS FROM US? OK, let's fix this. Let's goooo!

---

Relationship: Ted Lasso x reader

Warnings: Light smut, body concern/shame

---

You and Ted decided to spend the weekend off replanting the garden in the back of your house.

It was a hot summer day in London. The sun was out, and the heatwave was in full effect. As sweat dripped down your back, you decided enough was enough, and took your shirt off, left only in a spandex bra-like top.

Ted watched you, his brain a little jealous that you're so comfortable to make yourself cooler.

He looks down at his stomach, a little puffy under his t-shirt. His sweat ring around the collar.

"Babe?"

He shakes himself out of his racing mind and looks at you with a tight-lipped grin.

"You OK?"

Ted nods and wipes the sweat down.

"We're in our backyard, sweetheart. Privacy fence. If you wanna take your shirt off..." you wiggle your eyebrows, eager to see what your boyfriend looks under those layers.

Even when you're cuddling in bed, fooling around, he keeps his shirt on. You've never ventured your fingers underneath, even though you want to, because you can tell he's not comfortable.

Ted smiles again and looks down, his eyes darting around.

Without warning you stand up and hold out your hand, Ted accepting it with a concerned bunch of his eyebrows.

"Where we goin'?" he asks, as you open the door and lead him up the stairs to your bedroom.

You stand him in front of a full-length mirror, your eyes peeking over his broad shoulders.

He looks away. He doesn't like looking at himself in a mirror. Ever since Michelle left him for the younger, fitter Dr. Jacob, he's felt even worse.

Even though he's with you, and you dote on him.

He just doesn't believe it himself.

Sensing his unease, you sit him on the bed.

"Oh darlin', I'm all sweaty..." he says, trying to get up but you lightly push him back down.

"Pish posh," you answer. "Besides, getting sweaty is part of the fun."

He tries to match your enthusiasm but his mind is cluttered with self-doubt. His stomach isn't as trim as it used to be. His arms either. He was never cut like a Greek god -- not like the young men he coaches -- but he used to be in better shape. Now that he's with you, he feels like he should be...maybe he should start going to the gym next week? Maybe Roy could train...

"Teddy."

You snap him back from his thoughts, his eyes still concerned. You can read every emotion in those dark eyes of his.

You kneel between his legs on the floor, looking up at him with big eyes. His breath hitches a little.

Your hands start at his feet, strong and arched. His ankles, his carved calf muscles and muscular thighs.

"I love the way your legs carry you," you start, your eyes roaming his legs, your fingertips rubbing against them.

"What are you..."

Your fingers press up into his thighs, and you lay your head on one of them.

"I love how these thighs hold me, or let me sit on them when we're cuddling..."

His hand goes into your hair as he smiles.

Your hands work up a little further north, to his waist, which makes him a little uncomfortable. Your fingers skate under his t-shirt to his belly.

"And my God, the warmth you give me. The joy. Sharing meals with you. Cuddling with you. Wrapping my arms around you," you murmur, looking at him with starry eyes. "I absolutely love this body. How strong it is, how hard it laughs."

He smiles more at this, your fingers skating up higher, under his t-shirt to his chest. Your fingernails skate through his chest hair, then over his collarbones and shoulders.

"Such a man, a perfectly created man," you murmur, kneeling up higher, his arms coming around your middle. "I love this is where your heart is, these arms that hold me tight when we dance or when we sleep in on a Saturday morning. I love how those big hands touch my body..."

His hands start to roam your waist, inviting you to straddle him on the bed. You accept.

Your fingertips play with the hem of his shirt and you breathe against his ear: "May I?"

He nods as you take it over his head, and you moan at the sensation of his bare torso, pressing yourself against him harder, discarding your workout top and leaving your chests bare together.

As you look down to see your bodies pressed against one another, you sigh.

"Now that's a sight," you say, looking into his eyes, his hands holding your waist and roaming up your back into your hair.

When you look into his eyes, your finger traces his cheeks, forehead, nose, and chin with a feather-light touch.

"And this face," you whisper. "Expressive eyes, a smile that lights up every shadow in my heart. A laugh that I want to hear every second of the day. Those lips that I can taste when I'm miles away from you..."

He blushes at this, his hair flopped over his head, your hands now trailing down his shoulders and chest again. He's hard between your legs and you lean in to kiss him ever so gently. He lays back on the bed and you shimmy down his chest...

"Where..."

You smile, unbuckling his pants, your hand sneaking inside to stroke him gently, his hands fisting the sheets.

Your other hand reaches up and caresses his chest, his belly, and you moan when your lips make contact.

...

The next day you're in the garden, sweating through the replanting, and you smile wide when you look at Ted who takes off his baseball cap and tugs his shirt off over his head.

You wink at him from your garden bed.

"You tryin' to get me all hot and bothered again?" you ask. He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Maybe."

"Oh it's on, baby..."

---

I love the idea of body worshipping Ted, and making him comfortable that he knows you love it and then uses it to his advantage. I think we all carry body shame in some fashion, and it's hard to accept those parts of ourselves. But when you love someone, you want to show them how much you love them -- and Ted deserves this more than anyone. Thanks for the prompt, my friend!

#ted lasso x reader #ted lasso x you #ted lasso smut #ted lasso comfort #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #body worshipping ted lasso is a dream

[feartheoldblog]

what better way to spend new years than to get absolutely pished and sing auld lang syne whilst swinging your relatives around a crowded room full of glasses

#it’s nearly time #not even time and there’s already been two breakages #next year get plastic cups fr

[ayeforscotland]

Hiii, so I have a question that is also a story kind of.

So today I met six absolutely pished Scots and an English on a train, which is unusual for me since I live in Germany.

We talked a bit about Brexit and such, and when I mentioned that as a half-educated outsider it seems to me that the best thing Scotland can do would be to exit the UK and rejoin the EU, the English bloke tried to explain to me how both bc of patriotism and the deep history between Scotland and England, he and most of the guys think it's better to leave it as it is. Brexit may have fucked them over big time but he voted Leave as well because of the wage gap.

I don't know if it was bc he was pished but I didn't really get his point. Then again, I also never lived there so I suppose I can't. Nevertheless, can you explain what he meant?

(Also they were super nice about the whole thing, when I told them I haven't decided on a name yet bc I only just started T one of them asked for options. And yea I just let seven strangers decide my name. It's Jamie now, according to them)

((Lots of love from across the pond!❤️ I really love your blog))

Hello, glad you like my blog!💙

Patriotism and deep history don’t mean shit to the vast majority of people struggling to pay for electricity and feed their families. Brexit has contributed to a huge wave of shit that’s hitting food prices and the hospitality sector at the moment. Not to mention NHS staffing issues and a huge host of other problems.

No idea what they’re on about regarding the ‘wage gap’ - that sounds like made up shite they’ve heard second hand.