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#help i’m a gay fish
arrokett · 4 months
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chips and fish or something….
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betelgo0ze · 1 month
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Any movie recs with Al Pacino? And if a single person says “Goncharov” I fear I may not make it through the winter and any actions I partake in may or may not affect the outcome of this years fishing season
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help-im-a-gay-fish · 1 year
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Hellooo!!!
Here is GayFish's fanart :>
So, first of all, I just wanted to let you know that I had the fanart ready by the second day after I messaged you asking what your OC looked like.
Well, the following images are several versions of the first drawing with some variations so you can "choose" (so to speak) the one you like best.
(So, if that's the case, you have more options for profile picture.)
I love the design of your OC, it is very cute! 💖
So I decided to draw it like this:
I hope you like it :3
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***************
YO-
WHAT? MY DUDEEEE
Loooook!!!! Aweeee!!!!
GAYFISHHHH I LOHW ITTT
The lil blep 😛!
Your styleeee, dam it love how you drew there eyes! And those hands??? Hello?????
I love it! Thank you so much!
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melpomene-writes · 7 months
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my celebrity crush
minatozaki sana x fem!reader // fluff, smut
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you are so gay.
as if there has ever been any doubt about that.
the photo on the screen of your phone is just further unnecessary proof of that fact. you try telling yourself that you’re just appreciative of an expensive matching lingerie set but the truth is that you’re halfway in love with the gorgeous model and the voluptuous curves that the lace frames.
besides, you might as well appreciate the latest photograph that underwear model minatozaki sana has posted to her instagram account — it’s been shared to be looked at, though perhaps not with the kind of meticulous attention that you use to admire every pixel of the frame.
there’s no question about it, minatozaki sana is gorgeous. anybody with a working pair of eyes can see that. that she was placed upon this earth specifically to model underwear, you have no doubt. but sometimes you wonder whether sana’s existence has a secondary purpose — to torture you with those pretty brown eyes and her smiling lips and each flash of delicious skin.
“you’re so gay.”
tzuyu’s comment, while undeniably true, is the unwelcome gravity that sends your thoughts plummeting back to reality.
“she’s so pretty,” you whine, staring mournfully at the picture for a few seconds, before you continue scrolling down your instagram feed.
“yeah, because you were definitely admiring her face,” tzuyu comments drily, giving you a knowing stare. she nudges you with her elbow, then gestures at the drinking game that you’ve been ignoring in favor of drooling over an unattainable model. “come on, it’s your turn.”
you reach into the center of the circle and flip over a playing card, before pointing across at dahyun and gesturing for her to take a drink.
“trust you to fall for a girl who’s famous,” tzuyu says, when the game has moved onto your other side.
“i haven’t fallen for her,” you pout. “i’m just appreciative of her work.”
“you get a notification whenever she posts a new photo,” tzuyu reminds you. “i don’t even do that for the people that i’m dating. you’ve got it bad.”
you scroll back up to look at sana’s picture once more, and your heart twists painfully in your chest at the smoldering gaze that sana gives the camera. finally deciding to stop torturing yourself with daydreams about what will never be, you lock your phone and slide it into your pocket, then gesture to the half-empty bottle of vodka on the floor between yourself and tzuyu.
“i need a stronger drink.”
///
you’ve got a nice o’clock class in the morning, yet you still allow tzuyu to ply you with a generous amount of vodka, still allow yourself to be drawn in by the increasingly raucous drinking games, still allow yourself to be dragged out into town to continue your night at a club when you promised yourself earlier that you would only have two drinks and then be in bed by eleven.
it’s a dangerous game to play, but once you become aware that you’re way drunker than you planned to be, you decide to embrace it and order the next round of shots — tequila this time —much to the delight of your friends.
your mind’s fuzzy as you stumble away from the dance floor and down a dark hallway with unpleasantly sticky floors towards the women’s bathroom. there’s a queue lining up outside, a string of drunk girls complimenting each other’s dresses and catching loudly over the thump of music as they wait for one of the stalls to free up and you join the back of it, fishing your phone out of the pocket of your pants to pass the time.
when you unlock your screen, it’s still open on the instagram post from earlier, and your eyes pop out of your head once more as they’re greeted by the sight of minatozaki sana’s lace-clad body. the sight knocks the air out of your lungs, and you feel giddy. (it might be the alcohol, but you’re pretty sure that this photo really isn't helping the matter.) you feel as though you could stare at this photo all week, that sana’s sultry brown eyes and the expanse of creamy skin on display could keep you sustained better than the food and oxygen that science says your body needs to survive.
tzuyu’s words from earlier ring in your mind. trust you to fall for a girl who’s famous. end despite your earlier denial, you know now that it’s true. you’ve never been this addicted to a girl in real life, never felt like your life would be incomplete without somebody. and its fucking ridiculous because minatozaki sana’s a famous model, and you’re just an insignificant speck in sana’s extensive follower list. you might dream of an alternate universe in which a chance encounter with the model leads to a fulfilling relationship and a fairytale happy ending, but the reality means that this will never actually happen.
which is why what you do next is so easy.
it’s almost certainly the alcohol that pushes you to start typing out a comment on sana’s photo, fueling the resentful part of your mind that’s reminding you that sana’s not the only incontestably gorgeous, but that as a famous model she would never even glance twice at somebody like you, pushing your thumbs to tap away at the keyboard on the screen of your phone before your brain has the chance to catch up.
“nice underwear, bet it would look better on my bedroom floor...”
the line moves forward just as you tap send, and you slip your phone back into your pocket and forget about the comment entirely.
///
when you’re finished in the bathroom, you return to the dancefloor with a clear conscience and a renewed enthusiasm for having a good time. you dance with tzuyu, shimmying your hips and waving your arms around above your head in ways that would bring you great shame if you weren’t impaired by the buzz of too many units of alcohol. as it is, you dance like you don’t give a fuck — and you don't.
that is, until your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you take it out while continuing a half-dance kind of thing, startling yourself with the bright glare of the screen as you unlock it in the darkened nightclub. you turn down the brightness, then look for the cause of the vibration — an instagram notification telling you that somebody has sent you a private message — and read the words on the screen.
“nice face, bet it would look better between my legs...”
you read the sender’s name once, twice, three times before it registers that it reads minatozaki sana — your celebrity crush minatozaki sana — and it is only after that the contents of message itself hits you.
and you nearly drop your phone.
no way.
no fucking way.
you read it all again, read your own shame-inducing comment that you barely remember typing earlier in the night and then read sana's private response. and it just doesn't make any sense. sana’s making fun of you, she has to be. you’ve made an unwanted and inappropriate sexual comment on a stranger's photo and sana’s calling you out for it.
you have to believe that’s true because the alternative is that sana’s message is genuine, and that is far too much for your alcohol-fogged brain to handle.
there is no way that sana would be interested in somebody like you.
you’re a firm believer that the multiverse theory is entirely plausible, but you cannot comprehend that there could be a single universe in which you get hit on by somebody as completely out of your league as minatozaki sana.
especially not in this universe.
especially not after the awful comment that you sent.
you wish that you could rewind time. it's stupid, to be completely honest, because you've spent months dreaming up impossible scenarios in which sana notices you amongst the thousands of fans, but now that the day has finally arrived, you don't think you've ever been this mortified in your life.
you need to be sober. you also need to rectify this situation as soon as possible, and because sobriety seems to be several hours and a few pints of cold water away, you settle for working on the latter.
"i'm so sorry! i've been drinking and i don't know what i was thinking when i wrote that! i promise i'm not a creep!"
it's word vomit in written form, but you aren't capable of typing out anything more articulate in your current state and you're at least grateful that the message contains no spelling errors. you hit send and push the phone back into your pocket, as if putting the whole thing out of sight will wipe it from your mind.
if only the world worked in that way.
“what’s wrong?” tzuyu bellows into your ear from just a few inches away, and despite the proximity, her words are still almost drowned out by the thump of the bass.
you try to act normal, realizing quickly that ‘normal’ behavior is a lot harder to pull off when you’re thinking about it, and just shrug, before answering, “just not feeling it anymore. i’ve drunk too much.”
“we can go if you like,” tzuyu replies. “i’m pretty much done for the night too.”
your phone goes off again in your pocket, and you try not to be too eager in taking it out, just in case tzuyu notices your strange behavior and probes further.
“why don’t you enjoy the rest of your night, and we’ll see if you’re still interested when you’re sober tomorrow?”
you frown down at the screen, because the words don't entirely make sense and you don't know if that's your fault or sana's fault or the alcohol's or some fiendish combination of all three.
“interested in what?”
you press send and sana’s next message comes back almost immediately, and you can’t help but picture sana somewhere with her phone in her hand, waiting for your message so that she can reply straight away. (sana’s scantily clad in this scenario, and draped across a bed, because apparently your mind enjoys straying to inappropriate places after too many shots, and oh boy, if your mouth wasn’t dry before then it certainly is now.)
“in seeing my underwear on your bedroom floor.”
you lock the screen of your phone in panic, lest anybody around you happen to see the conversation with sana and put it away as you lean towards tzuyu and say, “yeah, let’s get of here.”
///
when you wake up, the only thing to hit you before the hangover is the shame.
you remember everything. well, there are clear gaps in your memory — you don’t remember the journey to the nightclub, nor getting food on the way back home even though there’s an open pizza box with two and a half uneaten slices lying in plain sight on your bedroom floor, nor the exact set of circumstances that led you going out on a night that you’d promise yourself you would stay in. but you remember everything about minatozaki sana, about the obscene comment you posted on sana’s photo, about the inexplicably propositional message that you received in response.
and you’re mortified.
you unlock your phone with the greatest reluctance, because you're hoping that there’s a tiny chance you drank so much last night that the entire thing was merely a dreamed-up product of your own alcohol-addled mind but nope, the messages from sana are most definitely glaring up at you, which means that you did the unspeakable and pretty much sexually-assaulted a stranger via an instragram comment.
the third thing that hits you, once you’ve confirmed that last night’s events really did happen, is the realization that you should’ve been in class twenty minutes ago.
you drag yourself out of bed, grateful that you at least had enough sense to change into pajamas when you got home in the early hours of the morning, rather than passing out fully nude, as you’ve done before, and take your phone with you out of your bedroom and into the kitchen where tzuyu sits at the table, chewing on a slice of toast.
“tzuyu, we have a big problem,” you announce.
tzuyu glances up from her plate, an expression of mild surprise on her face before she swallows her mouthful of food and replies, “for the last time, y/n, skipping class because you’re hungover is not the end of the world.”
you feel a bang of sadness for the loss of your unblemished attendance record this year, but then shake yourself out if it when you remember that there are far worse things that you’ve done in the last twenty-four hours than forgetting to set an alarm.
“no, something happened last night,” you explain. when panic flashes across tzuyu’s face, you hold out your phone, which is open on the comment you made on sana's photo last night, and quickly say, “no, nothing like that. look at this.”
tzuyu squints at the screen, mouthing the words of your comment silently as she reads it, before her mouth drops open and she stares up at you with shock in her eyes.
“jesus christ, y/n. that’s not like you at all.”
“i know!” you whine, taking back your phone so that you can open up the message conversation that follows on from your comment. “i’m mortified.”
“i mean,” tzuyu says, taking another bite from her toast and continuing in a muffled voice, “that photo has hundreds of comments. i’m sure she hasn’t seen it.”
“hold on,” you tell her. “i’m not finished.”
you show tzuyu your phone once more, this time open on the surreal conversation with sana, the one that you wouldn’t believe actually happened if you didn’t have the hard physical evidence of it in front of you.
tzuyu’s reaction is predictably astounded.
“what the actual fuck?”
“so, you see it too?” you ask, just to confirm, as tzuyu takes the phone from you to look at the conversation in more detail. “i haven’t just fantasized the entire thing?”
tzuyu frowns down at the screen with an expression of disbelief that matches how you feel, and then answers, “it would appear not.”
the phone in tzuyu’s hands vibrates with a new message, and you lunge forward to snatch it from your best friend, only for tzuyu to use her height advantage against you to keep you the phone to yourself.
“it’s from her!” tzuyu announces gleefully, before she reads out, “‘morning cutie!’ — oh my god, i’m going to be sick already — ‘hope you aren’t too hungover. the offer still stands. i’m in dc for a shoot next week if you’d like to go for a drink?’ holy shit, y/n. she’s serious.”
you finally triumph in taking your phone back, reading over sana’s newest message to find that tzuyu didn't make a word of it up. minatozaki sana, a famous model so gorgeous that you’re certain she could date anybody she wanted, has actually asked you out.
“it’s a joke,” you say aloud, for your own benefit more than for tzuyu. “it has to be. retaliation for the gross comment that i left her. she has to be making fun of me, trying to see if she can trick me into saying yes, before she jumps out and tells me that of course somebody like her would never be interested in somebody like me.”
“okay y/n, this may be news to you — and don’t you dare repeat this conversation to anybody because you know i hate it when people think i can be sincere — but you’re actually kind of hot." when you open your mouth to protest, tzuyu shuts you up with a dismissive wave of your hand and continue, “and i know that girls could be flinging their panties at you and you’d still come up with a completely illogical explanation for why they might still not be interested in you, but it’s not completely unreasonable that minatozaki sana has checked out your instagram account, decided that you’re a hot piece of ass and wants to screw you.”
you chew on your lower lip, because that’s an unlikely story, even though the messages that stare up at you from the screen of your phone seem to support a similar idea.
“look,” tzuyu says, reaching out to rest one hand on your arm, “if you don’t want to then you don’t have to. but just remember that most people would give anything to be asked out by their celebrity crush.”
it hits you then. this is your celebrity crush, the woman that only ever appears in your fantasies. an opportunity like this would never present itself again.
“okay,” you finally concede. “but if i turn up to meet her and find that she’s there with a half dozen police officers waiting to arrest me for sexually harassing her online, then you are paying for my legal fees.”
///
you’re terrified. you’ve been a jittery ball of nerves all afternoon, and now that the minutes until you meet sana are down to the single digits, the pounding of your heart is deafening.
“y/n?”
you’re so nervous that you startle when you hear a voice saying your name, and you jump to your feet when you see sana standing in front of you.
sana is… she’s shorter than you imagined her to be. she’s only fractionally shorter than you, but it still surprises you that this figure you’ve built up in your head to be such a monumental idol in your life doesn’t actually tower over you in reality.
sana seems completely normal too, as if she’s just a regular person, rather than a famous model with hundreds of thousands of online followers. and yeah, of course you knew sana wasn’t going to show up in just a fancy set of lingerie, or wearing a glamorous ball gown, or anything like that, but there’s something about seeing sana wearing a pair of turned up jeans with rips in both knees, a leather jacket, a plaid scarf bundled around her neck, that just grounds the entire situation.
she’s still gorgeous though. you think that sana could have turned up in a pair of sweatpants and with unwashed hair and you would still momentarily forget how to breathe in her presence.
sana’s eyes are browner in real life, and her smile even prettier, and if you weren’t at least fifty percent in love with the model before this moment, then you definitely are now.
“sana?” you choke past the dryness in your throat to finally stop gaping like an idiot and say something. “hi! um, can i get you a drink?”
“sure!” sana answers, unraveling her scarf from around your neck and taking off your jacket, folding both over one arm as you lean on the bar and flag down a bartender. “i’ll have a white wine, please.”
“a white wine and a vodka lime soda, please,” you tell the server behind the bar, reaching into your purse for some change to pay for the drinks.
“you look great, by the way,” sana says, nudging herself into your side as she leans on the bar beside you.
“so, do you,” you say. “i mean, wow.”
you turn to look at sana with the intention of physically acknowledging how good sana looks but find brown eyes much closer than you expect. you falter, intimidated by sana's proximity, and have to look away for your own sanity.
“don’t be ridiculous,” sana dismisses your comment with a wave of the hand, as if she hasn’t just dazzled you with a simple gaze. “i came straight from a shoot so i didn’t even have time to properly get ready.”
the bartender places your drinks on the bar, and you take the opportunity to distract yourself from the heat rising to your cheeks in sana’s presence by reaching out for your purse and counting out the correct change to pay for your drinks. passing the glass of wine over to sana, you pick up your own drink and lead the way over to a small table for two not far from the bar.
“i want to apologize for the comment that i left on your picture,” you say, almost as soon as you both have each taken a seat, desperate to get your apology in early so that you have a chance to redeem yourself and prove to sana that you can be so much more than just a creep from the internet. “i was drunk, and i know that doesn’t excuse anything...”
“don’t worry about it,” sana says, taking a sip from her wine and then placing the glass on the table. “it’s not the first time i’ve seen a comment like that. admittedly, they’re usually from gross teenage boys or pervy old men...”
“i’m incredibly sorry,” you repeat, mortified at being placed in such a category.
“look, i can tell that it’s out of character for you,” sana reassures you. a sly smile quirks her lips, and she adds in a lower voice, “besides, i like a girl who isn’t afraid to say that she wants.”
your mouth goes incredibly dry from the combination of sana’s words and the look that sana gives you in that moment, like she wants to launch herself across the table and do unspeakable things to you regardless of the bar’s other patrons, and you have to reach for your drink to cool yourself down.
“do you do this often?” you dare to ask, almost scared to hear of all the other people sana must’ve invited out for drinks, just like this.
“do what?” sana frowns.
“go out for drinks with fans.”
sana shakes her heads and answers, “actually, this is the first time.”
you almost choke on your drink. you had been expecting sana to say that she does this all the time — she must do this all the time if she's doing it with you — but the reality is a complete surprise.
"then... why me?"
it doesn’t make sense. sana has over ten million followers on instagram, and out of them all, she has chosen you.
“i don’t know,” sana shrugs. “something about you intrigued me. when i saw your comment, i was curious because it came from a woman. and then i looked at your photos and i liked what i saw.”
you feel your cheeks flush when sana confessed to browsing your own instagram account. you use it to post pictures of sunsets and hand-picked flowers and the cat that followed you home from the library last week. nothing that would make a lingerie model swoon.
and yet sana’s still there, sitting in front of you with a drink in her hand that you bought for her.
“what about now?” you dare to ask. “do you still like what you see?”
sana’s gaze slowly lowers, staring at your eyes and then dropping to your lips, where she lingers before her stare slides down the rest of your body, as if she’s checking you out through the table that sits between you both. when sana’s eyes flicker upwards once more to meet yours, she doesn’t answer your question verbally. instead, the way she raises her eyebrows at you, along with the renewed hunger in her eyes, is more than enough of an indication of her thoughts.
“so,” sana eventually drawls, “it took you a great deal of alcohol for you to post that comment, right?” when you nod an affirmative, sana continues, “and how many drinks before you’ll let me take you back to my hotel?”
you glance across at your drink, already half empty from the way that you’ve been sipping at it regularly as a distraction from the mounting arousal that has you clenching your thighs together. your decision is instant, and you reach for the glass, knocking back your head to pour the remainder down your throat.
wincing at the taste of the vodka, slightly stronger at the bottom of the glass than it had been at the top, you put the glass down with a thud and reply, “one’s more than enough.”
sana’s eyes light up in delight and she finishes her own drink in one gulp, before collecting her purse and jacket as she pushes back her chair.
“then let’s get out of here.”
///
if somebody were to ask you at a later date to recount the journey back to sana’s hotel, you would only be able to do it in the vaguest terms. it’s a blur of sana’s hand in yours, and sana’s hand on your waist, and sana’s hands drifting lower so that it's not quite grazing the curve of your denim-clad butt when you both have the privacy of the elevator up to sana’s room.
the two of you talk about... about something. the two of you must do, because the journey isn’t an awkward one, not entirely anyway. you think that you both talk about sana’s current shoot, and your college classes, and other such idle chitchat that happens entirely on autopilot. none of it really registers in your brain, because you’re still completely overwhelmed by the fact that you’ve met your celebrity crush, let alone the fact that said celebrity crush has invited you back to her hotel room for what promises to be the most mind-blowing evening of your entire life to date.
you’re still half-convinced that this whole thing is just a hoax, that sana’s hand seeking out whichever part of your body it can find to hold as you both make your way up to sana’s room is only there to stop you from running, that you both’ll step inside sana’s room to find a television crew armed with cameras and a half dozen confetti cannons ready to jump out and tell you that you’ve been pranked.
because there’s no way that sana actually wants to have sex with you.
but the two of you make it up to the hotel room, and when sana unlocks the door with her key card and ushers you inside, there’s nothing waiting for the two of you except a king size bed that’s equal parts inviting and intimidating.
“can i get you another drink?” sana asks, dropping her purse and jacket onto the floor beside the dresser and opening the door to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room to inspect its contents.
“no,” you answer, deciding that although a little liquid courage would be more than welcome right now, you want to be sound of mind to experience this for whatever it turns out to be. “i...”
“oh,” sana says, shutting the fridge door again and crossing the room to you, her hands seeking out your waist and slowly guiding you back against the wall next to the door. “is there something else you'd rather be doing?”
“i...” you stammer, your throat almost painfully dry, “i have a couple of ideas.”
“yeah?”
you hesitate before you act, searching sana’s face for any possible sign that she doesn’t want you to kiss her, but when you find none, and when sana’s hands tighten on your waist in encouragement, you lift one of your hands to cup sana’s cheek and pull her in for a hot kiss.
despite waiting for you to initiate the kiss, sana takes control as soon as your mouth meets hers. she keep you anchored against the wall with her hands, while her mouth opens and her tongue swipes against the crease of your lips, requesting access that you’re only too happy to give. and you’re grateful that sana’s taking the lead. the entire situation still drips with surrealism, and your brain can’t keep up with the fast pace of the evening's developments.
you’re kissing minatozaki sana. you’re in sana’s hotel room, with sana’s hands low on your hips, and sana’s tongue sweeping into your mouth, and there’s no fucking way that this isn’t just a hyper-realistic dream. except that you’re too aware of each tiny detail for this to be a dream, too aware of the thudding in your ears with each pump of the blood through your veins, too aware of the way that sana’s hands burn through the material of your top, too aware of the ache between your legs as you subconsciously push your hips forward into sana’s as if seeking contact where you so desperately need it.
it has to be real.
almost as if she senses that you need a respite to let your brain catch up with your body, sana pulls back from the kiss, far enough for you to see that sana’s brown irises have almost shrunk entirely behind the black of her blown pupils, before sana’s parted lips descend on your neck, tracing dangerous paths over tendons and fluttering pulses.
it’s still very distracting, the way that sana’s teeth and tongue work at the skin of your neck with no real predictability in their movements, but without the intoxication of sana’s lips on your own, you do manage to remember that there are things you planned to say to sana before things could get to this stage and with your mouth free to speak, you choose now to attempt to vocalize them, if only to give you something else to try and focus on instead of succumbing entirely to your desire.
“i just want to say,” you manage to husk out, impressed with your own ability to string words together in the face of sana’s valiant efforts at making you lose your mind entirely, “i think you’re… you’re a great rolemodel to young girls, a real icon. the campaigning you do for body positivity… and, uh...” you let out a little grunt as sana’s teeth close around a sensitive spot on your neck, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut to regain the composure needed to finish your sentence, “and the lgbt community. you know, bisexual represen—”
“y/n,” sana says, lifting her mouth from your neck and cutting your words off with a disarming arch of her eyebrow, “i would love to hear all this later, but right now i can think of much better things that your mouth could be doing.”
you let out a noise somewhere between a whimper and a groan at the implication of sana’s words, but you get a sudden surge of confidence, sliding your hands under the hem of sana’s top and bunching the fabric upwards.
“can i take this off?”
sana smiles as she detaches her own hands from your hips, allowing just enough space between your bodies for you to lift sana’s top up and over her head.
you don’t know how to cope now that sana isn’t wearing a shirt. it seems silly, because you've seen this sight before — sana’s breasts covered in satin or lace — but before it’s always been part of a carefully constructed photoshoot intended to be shared with millions of other people. this is completely different because it’s a private showing. nobody else but you get to see this view, and knowing that sana wants it to be you and only you seeing her body tonight, is more of a turn on than anything that you’ve ever encountered in your life before.
“shit,” you groan, closing your eyes as arousal throb in your veins.
“your turn,” sana husks. “i want to see you too.”
sana’s hands tug at the hem of your top and you raise your arms above your head, allowing sana to pull the garment up and off, before she drops it on the floor beside her own.
you almost want to fold your arms across your chest, feeling incredibly self-conscious about standing there in your bra in front of a woman who gets paid to be photographed wearing the same amount of clothing on her upper half. you decided earlier today to put on your nicest bra, just in case things escalated this far, but you’re still just a poor college student, and your nicest bra cost about thirty-five dollars, compared to be obviously far more expensive that sana wears.
“fuck, you’re beautiful,” sana exhales appreciatively, stroking the fingers of one hand across your cheek, then down the column of your neck and over your collarbone before her palm comes to rest over your lace-covered breast. “i can’t wait to get you naked.”
you surge forward, pressing your lips against sana’s, and the force of the movement causes sana to stumble backwards, one hand anchoring itself on your waist while the other palms your breast generously.
“bed,” you mumble, between hot kisses full of tongue that swipe messily at each other and teeth that nip at swollen lips, as you attempt to steer sana backwards towards the bed in the middle of the room, something that only becomes more difficult as sana’s thumb and forefinger pinch at an already puckered nipple through the fabric of your bra.
the two of you make it to the bed, somehow, by which time your jeans are caught around your knees and your fumbling hands have propped open the button on the front of sana’s. you kick your jeans off, tossing them on the floor somewhere behind you as you climb on top of sana, disconnecting your lips long enough to help sana tug denim down her own legs.
“come here, gorgeous,” sana says, smirking at you as she lies back on the bed, propped up on her elbows.
you follow sana’s request, crawling up sana’s body with your legs on either side of sana’s hips, your aching center hovering just inches above sana’s lacy panties as you lean down for another kiss. your long hair tumbles over your face, and you have to take a moment to flick it all over one shoulder, before you connect your lips once more and let your hand slide up the smooth skin of sana’s side until it’s resting on the other curve of sana’s lace-clad breast.
“can i?” you mumble against sana’s lips.
“take it off,” sana says, arching her back off the bed so that you can reach your hand underneath sana and unsnap the clasp. “i want your mouth on my breasts.”
you’re only too happy to oblige, undoing the bra with a shaky hand before throwing it to the floor. you don't allow yourself time to think — or time to realize that sana’s now lying topless before you, because that would almost certainly be too much for you to handle — before you descend on sana’s breast, wrapping your lips around a rosy nipple while you send one of your hands up to give sana’s other breast a generous squeeze. you swipe your tongue over the nipple as it puckers and sana’s hand finds the back of your head, tangling into brunette curls to keep your mouth against her breast.
you’re not satisfied with just this though. now that you have a taste of sana’s skin, you want more, you want to put your mouth on every tantalizing inch of sana’s body. you replace your mouth with your other hand, giving attention to the hardened bud with your fingers, while your tongue traces a path down the valley between sana’s breasts and down sana’s stomach.
sana’s body is even more perfect in person than in her pictures, and you get more and more proof of that with each second that you spend worshipping it. sana’s belly has a slight curve to it, unlike the stereotypical stick-thin model, and you make sure to lavish the soft skin with attention. you trace mindless patterns over sana’s stomach with your lips, stopping every so often to place kisses or draw pictures with your tongue. you seek out sensitive spots, reveling each time sana lets out a gasp or arches away when your lips brush over a ticklish area, making sure to return to these places until sana’s a writhing mess beneath you.
the hand on the back of your head grips tighter, then try to push your mouth down further. you smirk against the warm skin of sana’s stomach, knowing exactly where she wants your next destination to be.
but you won’t give in that easily. you lift your mouth from sana’s stomach and settle on your knees between sana’s legs. sana lets out a groan of frustration, but it’s one that dies in her throat when she realizes that your hands have gone to her hips, seeking out the elastic of her underwear to pull the lace down her legs and discard it on the floor.
you’ve been in this situation with girls before, but you don't think you’ve ever wanted it this much. and it’s not just because sana’s famous, or somebody that you’ve been harboring an unrequited crush on for way longer than the other girl has even known of your existence. there’s just something about sana, about the way that her kisses taste like perfection, about the way that you seem to know exactly what to do to elicit each gasp of pleasure from sana despite being a thrumming ball of nerves, that gives you the inexplicable sensation that your life was always supposed to end up in the moment, whether you like it or not.
you definitely like it. there isn’t a question about that. and, judging by the smear of sana’s arousal that coats your stomach when you settle back between sana’s legs, sana likes it too.
minatozaki sana is into you. which is just way too strange for you get your mind around. sana’s so beautiful, both in looks and personality, that she might as well be from another universe, while you’re just... well, you’re just you. you’re nothing special. completely ordinary.
“i need your mouth,” sana begs.
you’re only too happy to oblige. you trail another path down sana’s body, similar to before but with more purpose now. without the scrap of lace covering sana’s center, your destination is in sight, and you waste very little time getting there, only stopping briefly over sana’s breasts and her navel and that sensitive spot just above sana’s left hipbone that you discovered during your earlier exploration, in attempts to drive sana wild.
everything about this situation is incredibly surreal, but you decide the moment that trumps it all is the one when you slide your tongue through sana’s wetness for the first time. you can’t believe you’re here in sana’s hotel room, let alone going down on the woman you admire, but the heady taste of sana’s arousal on your tongue is eerily familiar, yet also different to anything you’ve ever tasted before.
instinct kicks in. no longer is this you and your celebrity crush, this is you and a girl who wants you, a girl who needs you, if the way that sana’s hips cant up into your mouth is anything to go by. sana sends a hand down and tangles it into the hair on the back of your head, keeping your mouth against her while she bucks her hips and gyrates against your mouth.
it’s really fucking hot, is the first thing that crosses your mind. and there’s no second thing, because you lose yourself in it all. sana’s enthusiasm is smearing her arousal all over your chin but you fucking love it, love the way that sana just can’t seem to get enough of your mouth.
“yes, baby,” sana mounts out encouragements between whimpers. “yes!”
you’ve never been called baby before, but you decide that you like it coming from sana’s lips. you double your efforts in response, wrapping your lips around sana’s aching slit and lashing your tongue against it. sana bucks her hips again when you do that, lets out a few more murmured encouragements and a gasped ‘fuck’, and you hum against sana’s center in approval.
you realize that sana’s going to come really fucking soon if you keep this up, and while the thought is an encouraging one, you aren’t quite ready to be done yet. you slow down the ministrations of your tongue, moving away from sana’s sensitive clit to drag lazy paths up and down sana’s folds, while bringing up a hand to spread sana open for you.
“do you want...?” you ask, lifting your mouth from sana’s center as you dip the tip of an exploratory finger into sana’s opening.
“god, yes,” sana groans, lifting her hips off the bed in an attempt to get your mouth back on her. “do what you want, y/n. fuck me. i need... yeah, just like that.”
you go straight in with two fingers, knowing that sana's more than ready for both, and you let out another hum of delight at the sensation of sana clenching deliciously around your digits. you curl your fingers against sana’s front wall, seeking out the erogenous area that you know will drive sana crazy, and you know you're successful when sana’s back arches off the bed and a husky groan erupts from her throat.
“fuck. y/n, just like that.”
you speed up your motions, thrusting two fingers in and out, and lean down against to put your mouth against sana’s center. there’s no pretense anymore, no need for further delay. you need to see sana come for you and you need to see it soon. you swipe your tongue against sana’s folds once, twice, then dive right in, giving sana’s clit the unwavering attention of your lips and tongue while your fingers slowly work sana higher and higher.
“shit, baby. i’m gonna…”
no amount of warning could prepare you for sana’s orgasm. you know it’s been building but it still takes you by surprise, from the way sana’s hips lift off the bed, to the shout of pleasure that escapes her lips. you use your free hand and splay it over sana’s hips, keeping them anchored to the bed, while you use your fingers of the other, still buried in velvety warmth, to coax yet more sounds from sana’s mouth.
sana’s body stutters through the climax, trembling beneath you with unpredictable jerks, and even when you think you’ve drawn the last of sana’s pleasure from her, sana’s body still twitches once more, before she collapses onto the bed with a contended sigh.
you withdraw your fingers and wipe them on your thigh, not minding the sticky mess they leave behind, then crawl up sana’s body.
“did i do okay?” you ask, because even though sana obviously just came for you, you need to know if it was good enough, need to know if you’ve done enough for sana to stick around long enough to return the favor.
sana’s hands pull your head down for a kiss. there’s almost too much tongue, but when you realize that sana is merely tasting herself on your lips, you decide that there can be no such thing as too much tongue, and you let sana’s filthy kiss take control.
“you’re so cute,” sana mumbles against your lips, her mouth turning up into a smile. “way more than okay.”
in a sudden move that takes you by surprise, sana flips you both over and hovers above your body with a predatory smile on her face. she lowers her mouth to your neck, closing her teeth over your pulse point and sucking what is going to turn into a dark mark into the pale skin there, before moving even lower.
“what was it you were saying earlier?” she asks, between kisses that draw a path over the swell of your breasts and down towards your navel. “i believe you used the words ‘feminist icon’. why don’t you tell me a bit more about that while i eat you out?” 
your head falls back against the pillow and your hand finds the back of sana’s head. the moan that spills from your throat when sana’s lips close around your clit can probably be heard from the hotel lobby many floors below.
///
six months later
you hum a jaunty tune under your breath as you slot your key into the front door of your apartment. you smell like an airplane, and you haven’t eaten all day but none of that matters when you’re still riding the high of a weekend spent in your girlfriend’s bed. 
you’ve been dating sana for six months now, and it still feels a little bit like a dream that you’re praying you’ll never wake up from. that night in sana’s hotel room was one of the best of your life, and once the two of you were done exploring each other’s bodies over and over again, the two of you both stayed up talking into the early hours of the morning until you both were too tired to stay awake any longer.
as you push open the front door and drag your small suitcase inside the apartment. you smile to yourself at the memory of that night and the morning that followed. if sana asking you out for a drink was surreal, if sana taking you back to her hotel room and fucking you until you couldn’t remember your own name was surreal, then nothing could have prepared you for sana inviting you along to the second day of her photoshoot the following day, nor the way that sana took you twice in her dressing room during her lunch break, nor the relationship that blossomed from there.
it’s been a really great six months.
“tzuyu?” you call out into the apartment, leaving your suitcase by the door and walking toward your roommate’s bedroom. “you in?”
“yeah!” comes tzuyu’s reply.
you push open the door to tzuyu’s room and find your friend sitting up against the headboard of her bed, her laptop on her thighs, which she moves to the side when she sees you standing in the doorway.
“so, how was your weekend away?” tzuyu asks.
“it was good,” you grin.
‘good’ doesn’t even begin to cover your weekend spent with her, but then none of the other words in the dictionary do either. you don’t think you’re going to be able to stop grinning for days.
“have you been on instagram lately?” tzuyu asks.
“no, why?” you frown, fumbling for your phone in your jacket pocket and opening up the app.
“take a look at your girlfriend’s latest post,” tzuyu tells you, her voice full of glee and eyes lit up with delight.
you scroll down your feed until you find the photo in question and read the caption.
there’s nothing quite like letting your girl take it off you at the end of a long shoot…
your eyes flit up to the picture, a photo of a pair of lacy underwear lying discarded on the floor, and heat rises to your cheeks as you realize that sana must’ve taken the photo while you weren’t paying attention.
the thing is you recognize the underwear. in fact, you remember picking the set out at the mall specifically to wear on this trip to visit sana, and you remember the nerves you felt while putting them on and wondering whether sana would like what she sees, and you remember the satisfaction of sana popping open the clasp of the bra and drawing the lacy panties down your legs with only her teeth.
“shit,” you groan, letting your head fall against tzuyu’s doorframe with a soft thud.
“what?” 
“that’s not even a picture of sana’s underwear.”
tzuyu’s shriek of glee is a sound that isn’t going to leave you in a long while.
probably the most requested one...
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johannestevans · 8 months
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Yentl: A Trans Man Studying Talmud is Distracted by Gay Thoughts
Yentl (1983, dir. Barbra Streisand) and Yentl the Yeshiva Boy by Isaac Bashevis Singer.
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Any of us would be distracted from study by Mandy Patinkin. Via IMDb.
It’s a sad thing, hearing cisgender people talk about Yentl — especially the short story — and think they understand it, that they’re getting everything from it, while at the same time, they can’t conceive that transgender people even exist.
It’s a strangely joyful short story to read as a trans man, as sad and complex as it is, and the film has a similar bittersweet warmth to it.
“Yentl — you have the soul of a man.” “So why was I born a woman?” “Even Heaven makes mistakes.”
From Yentl the Yeshiva Boy, by Isaac Bashevis Singer
At the beginning of Yentl (1983), we see Barbra Streisand as the titular Yentl walking around in Yanev, ostensibly to buy groceries — including a fish — for dinner. She’s bored and distracted as the other women discuss how to study a fresh fish or how to distinguish between the different types — the bookseller is coming through town, calling out that he has novels and picture books for women and sacred books for men.
Yentl approaches the bookseller and surreptitiously takes one book from the men’s shelf, a book exploring the mysticism of creation and the similar mysticism of language that was being discussed by some yeshiva students a moment ago, and the bookseller interrupts her — “You’re in the wrong place, Miss. Books for women are over there.”
He tells her it’s the Law that women can’t study such books; she retorts, “Where is it written?”; he says, “Never mind where: it’s a Law.”
She says the book is for her father, Reb Mendel, and the bookseller finally relents, whereupon she goes home and reads the book herself.
Mendel is a widower, and although he scolds Yentl gently for not being an adept cook and tells her that studying is for men and not for women, he studies with her anyway and teaches her — it makes Yentl the subject of gossip in town, with one of Reb Mendel’s students remarking that his father says a woman who studies Talmud is a demon — it doesn’t help that Yentl is unmarried.
From the short story:
But Yentl didn’t want to get married. Inside her, a voice repeated over and over: “No!” What becomes of a girl when the wedding’s over? Right away she starts bearing and rearing. And her mother-in-law lords it over her. Yentl knew she wasn’t cut out for a woman’s life. She couldn’t sew, she couldn’t knit. She let the food burn and the milk boil over; her Sabbath pudding never turned out right, and her challah dough didn’t rise. Yentl much preferred men’s activities to women’s.
From Yentl the Yeshiva Boy, by Isaac Bashevis Singer
As a trans man, I’m always keenly aware of the things many of us cite in childhood of the first things we knew weren’t right for us and the things that were — Yentl has no skills that should be right for a woman, mentions that she cannot sew or knit or cook, and she prefers to study.
Many of us played with “boy’s toys” or took interest in “boy’s activities” instead of girl’s ones, wore “boy’s clothes” and did “boy things” — the label as to the boyishness or girlishness to most of these being arbitrary.
But Yentl’s first thought here is the rebellion in it — not only will she be forced to begin bearing children and raising them by the circumstances of her marriage, but she’ll be forced to submit to her mother-in-law’s will and orders.
In my experience as a trans man, cis men are rarely the biggest enforcers of the gender binary, nor the ones who most policed my incorrect or flawed gender expression as a child.
When cishet men do complain and correct gendered behaviour, it’s often to do with what they perceive as a desirable woman or girl being kept from them — their complaints are far more to do with dress or physical appearance because, to a cishet man, the first thing that matters in a woman is her sexual availability and her aesthetic value, particularly in regards to her sexual appeal.
Cishet women’s aggressive and virulent desire to correct what they feel are gender transgressions are more subtle than that and are far more about the deeper social value a woman holds — about her ability to cook and clean, to raise children, to exist in a space with other women, to manage the men in her life and to willingly submit to parenting adult men as if they’re also her children.
What would Yentl experience from her mother-in-law? Picks not just at her appearance but at her behaviour, her priority, and her thoughts. It’s not enough to perform gender correctly — they want you to internalise it and to be entirely beaten down with it.
All your thoughts as a cishet woman, especially in a traditional M/F marriage, should be about the men around you and their needs — sacrificing your own needs and desires should come naturally to you. A lot of cishet mothers will completely confidently say that sacrifice of the self, of personal identity, of privacy, of rest, is an integral part of motherhood, and they will become very angry at the idea that it isn’t, or that it shouldn’t be — pointing out that the same expectations are not made of fatherhood will if anything make them angrier, and they’ll say blandly that men and women are different, and refuse any further word about it.
Why are men and women different?
They just are.
Why do they have to be?
They just are.
There was no doubt about it, Yentl was unlike any of the girls in Yanev — tall, thin, bony, with small breasts and narrow hips. On Sabbath afternoons, when her father slept, she would dress up in his trousers, his fringed garment, his silk coat, his skullcap, his velvet hat, and study her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a dark, handsome young man. There was even a slight down on her upper lip.
From Yentl the Yeshiva Boy, by Isaac Bashevis Singer
Obviously, trans men and mascs’ gender shouldn’t be judged by the extent of their ability to pass, but a thing that I really like about this aspect of Singer’s short story is that it puts aside the argument of sex essentialism.
“Men and women are different, and you can tell they are different because they look different — if they were meant to be the same, why wouldn’t they look the same?”
And here, Yentl has the soul of a man, and his body is not wholly that of a woman’s and can easily be “disguised” as a man’s because it already has some men’s characteristics — tall, thin, bony, not much to the chest, without the wide, child-bearing hips people often want or expect of a cisgender woman. Once Yentl is dressed in the right clothes, she looks like a dark, handsome young man.
If men and women are truly so irrevocably different, if they are truly two sides of a wide binary with a great chasm between them, everyone would always be able to tell trans people and crossdressers and intersex people and anyone else outside or in-between from a line-up, and you can’t.
Read on Patreon / Read on Medium
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floweroflaurelin · 8 months
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~Chill Minecraft Tunes to Write Your Archaeology Thesis To~
Thanks so much for your help in populating Pix’s office! This is one of the more involved shots from the animatic I’ve been working on and I wanted to pack it with as many details as possible. Any suggestions that didn’t make it into this shot will probably end up in the one set in the Museum!
I painted most of this in the airport on my way to meet up in person with the other mods of @mcytblrsexymen — spent a weekend touring museums and hanging out with @/theminecraftbee, @/magicalmanhattanproject, and like a dozen more tumblr friends and mutuals 😆 It was my first time in the USA! I got my purse stolen and lost all my IDs and money and my epipen! (My first mistake was being too gay in the Smashburger, it’s a long story. It’s okay though, I’m getting things replaced now that I’m back in Canada ✨🇨🇦)
But yeah, I had a ton of fun on the trip and on this painting! Peek under the cut for a full list of the all the Pixlriffs-related Easter eggs I crammed in :P
Easter eggs:
- His classic striped jumper
- Singing fish that’s a cod
- Neptune the ghost cat
- Candle from the Vigil
- Mezalean urn
- Skulk sample that’s escaped containment
- Winchester figurine
- Toy Sheriff
- Lizzie’s Ocean Orb
- Four blue books in his stripes’ pattern
- Survival Guides vol. 1 through 3 on the shelf
- Currently hidden behind him is a framed selfie of ZloyXP
- History and Law degrees on the wall
- Diamond pickaxe
- The guitar from his stream background
- My Saint Pearl painting ^_^
- Copper lamp
- Mug of tea
- Celery growing on the desk (reference to his partner)
Also one more bonus for you, I made my own sexyman merch to wear on the trip because, as the designer, I have that power ;)
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Photo taken by @/antimony-medusa 📸
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jay-spear-stories-2 · 26 days
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Getting It From Mr. G
A teaser from my new story…
“Damn, Tommy. Your dad is hot. Do you think he’d fuck me?”
“He’d fuck anything that moves. That’s why Mom threatens a divorce every month or so.”
“Yeah, but I’m serious. Like would he fuck ME?”
“Oh my god, dude. Ever since you came out you’ve gotten really weird. Last week you were even hot for Mr. Stephens.” Mr. Stephens was the school janitor. He was a big, hairy guy in his early-50s—not the kind of guy girls at school would crush on (they saved that for the bright-eyed new history teacher, Mr. Prewitt). But those girls weren’t watching all the gay porn that I was, which could get a guy into a whole bunch of stuff: bears, bikers, daddies.
But even the girls would dig Tommy’s dad. He was classically handsome, tall and fit and wholesome. He was the kind of guy you’d see in a Father’s Day commercial for
tools or clothes. Mr. G’s entry to his 40s had whittled away the hair at his temples, but it was full everywhere else and he kept his ex-military body fit as fuck. Even though my classmates all focused on the latest TikTok teen sensation, I’m sure their panties would be wet from ten minutes alone with the guy.
I hadn’t been alone with him but I saw him plenty at Tommy’s house. I’d been going over there a couple times a week ever since we were little. Now that we were older and powered by primarily by teenage hormones, I couldn’t see Mr. G. without wanting lay back and raise my legs up for the guy. His low gravely voice made me melt.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand about Mr. Stephens, but you gotta admit your dad is a stud.”
“Yeah, of course he is. That’s why he and Mom fight all the time. Every goddam MILF at school is always flashing her tits at him.”
“Right. But does he only go for MILFs or would he try something a little younger?”
“I don’t know, dude. He’s my dad. I don’t think about it. Besides, I don’t think he’s into guys despite getting a few blowjobs back in his college days.”
“Did he?”
“Who knows? Probably. He said it happened a few times. ‘A mouth is a mouth, Tom. Be open to opportunity.’”
“Shit, that’s awesome.”
“So, does that mean you’re gonna suck me?”
“No way, man! You’re like a brother to me. Besides, I’m into older dudes right now.”
Tommy sighed. “What’s the point of having a gay best friend if I’m not gonna get the benefits?”
“Sorry, dude. It’s DILFs only for me.”
“OK fine, asshole. Maybe you can help me Katie to start putting out. I have an idea….”
And then we were on to talking about his girlfriend. But my mind was still on his dad.
***
Mr. G—Bill—was Tommy’s dad. I kept my eye out for him whenever I was over there. But he was real Type-A, always at work or the gym, so my opportunities to see him were few and far between.
But I indulged my fantasies however I could. I roamed Tommy’s house looking at all the family photos. Mr. G., young and smiling on his wedding day. Platoon photos from his military service. Shots of him and the family at their lake house that showed off Mr. G.’s barrel chest and meaty legs. I dreamed about those legs wrapping around and squeezing me tight while he pushed his dick deep inside me.
His dick. I wished I could see it. It was substantial; I knew it from the bulge in his dress pants. I could see it even better when he wore sweatpants to rake leaves or clean out the garage. I imagined my mouth on him. I’d use my hands to play with his balls while the monster grew and pushed its way down my throat.
One afternoon Tommy was upstairs changing for baseball practice and I killed time snooping around the laundry room. I found a pair of Mr. G’s briefs. They were still stretched out, showing the outline of his cock and balls.
Gingerly, I fished his drawers out of the pile and held them up for closer inspection. I saw some stray pubic hairs clinging to the fabric. I brought the whole mess up to my face and breathed it in. Sweat. Musk. Man.
The door flew open. Bill barreled in with a laundry basket full of clothes to be washed.
I froze. He did too. He saw his underwear covering my face and he laughed. I dropped them immediately.
“I…I was just—“
He bent down and picked them up. He looked at the briefs and then back at me.
“Here,” he said with a toss. “Keep them.”
I flushed bright red. He shot me a wink. Then he dumped his basket into the pile of dirty clothes and left the room.
I was embarrassed but also thrilled at the opportunity. I stuffed the briefs into my pocket.
“You ready?” Tommy called out from the living room.
“Coming!”
That night I came so hard. All it took was the smell of Mr. G draped across my face.
Read the rest of this story on my Patreon:
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bengiyo · 2 months
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Perfect Propose Ep 3 Stray Thoughts
Last week, we started with Hiro, an overworked office grunt who probably works for a black company passing out on the street in exhaustion. His childhood friend Kai appeared, saying he wanted to make good on their promise to marry. Kai is dealing with his own difficulties and needed a place to stay, and has begun taking care of Hiro, going so far as to jerk him off to help him sleep once. We learned that Kai has not had an easy go of it. We left on Hiro failing to make it to the festival on time to get food with Kai.
This is such a great opening. Hiro is disappointed, and is more upset that Kai isn’t mad about this. We know that Kai was looking forward to this because he bought the fish tank, but he’s downplaying any disappointment for Hiro’s benefit. He went to the festival and got the food Hiro said he liked, but Hiro really wanted to share in an activity with Kai. I love that he’s berating himself for all the things he could have done to keep his promise instead.
Never getting over the office chairs being the same color as Hiro’s couch. It makes his home look uncomfortable.
I thought that was Tominago Kayoko’s actress for a second.
Hate that they always eat their lunches at their desks.
Not sure what the chef’s son’s beef is with Kai, but it feels personal.
I do love that Hiro is processing what’s happening with his and Kai’s reactions to all of this.
“Be conscious of it.” I will be thinking about this for the rest of the weekend. I love Kai so much. “You’re straight so I won’t cross that boundary, but you make things difficult when you show me this level of regard,” is a place I find myself in a lot.
I love when broody boys are suddenly happy. “In the end you’re going to be mine.” I love him so much.
Oh, looks like my little anxious man is going to be a drunk mess next week.
I absolutely love this show. I like that we have two adult characters that are already jaded by their circumstances and are desperately reaching out to each other as a lifeline. I love that the coworkers all immediately worried when Watari regressed back to his original self. I’m so looking forward to him confronting the idea that he “works too slowly” as he tries to face Kai. I was talking with @lurkingshan about how much she likes that BL characters are now asking for time to think instead of just rejecting someone, because for me I love that Kai accepts that “thinking about it” just means “getting used to it.” Kai asked Hiro to be conscious about his feelings. He does want to do activities with Hiro, but he’s also not going to pretend he isn’t a gay man living with the man he loves. If Hiro wants to be closer to him, Kai is going to want to be physically close to Hiro as well, even if that’s just sharing the bed and sleeping with his back to Hiro.
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not-alien-girl-v · 8 months
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Disconnected (Matty Healy)
warning: not smut but it might as well be. mentions of doing the dirty but. it doesn’t happen. you know. also george gets roasted sorry georgenation
note: meow
⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚:*⋆.*:・゚ .: ⋆*・゚: .⋆
he collapses on top of you, sweat coating his bare skin. a long exhale releases from his lungs as he sinks into your body. you keep your hands on his back, rubbing up and down comfortingly, soothing the angry red marks left by your nails just a few minutes ago.
he hums in contentment and places featherlight kisses to the right side of your neck. you giggle and push him off you.
“what? done with me already?” you don’t say anything, expecting him to just fall asleep like he usually does at the end of your ‘after he gets back from the studio quickie.’ it’s not always like this, your sex life with him, this is just one, predictable aspect of it.
it’s almost like you both know how good he fucks you when you ask for it, that it makes up for all the simple, mundane sex you have most of the time.
suddenly, he turns to his side, propping his head up on his hand, and his silent stare is harrowing. “yes?” you ask him, wishing you could read his mind. sometimes you swear he can read yours.
“can i ask you something?” he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says this, and you can only assume the worst.
1. would you still love me if i was gay?
2. will you help me bury the body?
3. when i die of terminal cancer, will you promise not to remarry?
you’ve just been staring at him staring at the crisp white bedsheets and when he looks into your eyes, you are reminded that he can’t actually read your mind, and your attempts at telepathic communication are feeble.
“sure, baby.”
“ok. i’m gonna ask you, and no matter what your answer is, i promise i won’t get mad. you hear me?”
“yes?”
he reaches out to grab your arm, “i mean it, i won’t get mad, i’m just genuinely curious, i’m not fishing for a compliment or anything, i just really want to know.”
what on earth is he on about?
“just ask your question.”
he sighs again. “who’s the best man you’ve ever hooked up with?”
you close your eyes in a mix of both confusion and a bit of disappointment. “like… character-wise or sex-wise?”
“sex-wise.”
you nod, about to say something.
he doesn’t let you.
“i bet it was george, wasn’t it. i’m sure of it. god, when you two hooked up, he was in his prime. i mean, not that he isn’t fit now, i’m sure he still fucks, but back then… i bet he knew what he was doing. how was it with him? be honest, i won’t be upset.”
you just smile silently as he can never shut his big mouth. “that’s pretty gay.”
he chuckles at your response, still egging you on for a real response. “come on, he’s a drummer, so obviously, he’s got rhythm, and he’s a very big boy, so you know he’s got the size.”
you reach forward to brush a stray curl behind his ear, enjoying his beautiful tranquility for as long as you can, because you know he will inevitably get riled up the more this conversation continues.
“i’m starting to think you just want to hear about what it’d be like to fuck your friends,” you brush your fingers through his hair continuously, and he closes his eyes, nearly forgetting about your conversation.
“you’re changing the subject darling,” he leans into your touch.
“so you’re saying you don’t want to know? what it would be like?”
he opens his eyes, “of course i want to know! we’re all straight men in committed relationships to beautiful women, i may never get the experience.”
you rest your hand on the edge of his face, rubbing his temple in circles with your thumb. “you know, if you ever wanted to fuck any of them, i think i’d let you. it’s only fair, since me and george, you know.”
“it wouldn’t be the same, though, because when you and him fucked, we weren’t together yet, i hadn’t told you i liked you. it would mean too much if i shagged my mates now since you and i are you know… whatever.”
you gasp in amusement, “did you really just refer to our relationship as whatever?”
he pouts, but you know he’s laughing on the inside. “i’m sorry.”
“it’s fine, i guess.”
“wait, you never answered my question!”
“alright. i’ll get into it. you ready?” he nods, looking more prepared than you are for what’s to come. “george was… i mean… it was good. to somebody else, maybe it was great. but to me? i don’t know, we just didn’t mix well together.”
“what d’you mean, baby?”
“like, okay, you look at a guy like that, you assume a certain thing from him while fucking. like you go into doing it with a level of expectations, somewhat high, and he just didn’t meet them.”
“can you be a little more vague? i think i’m almost understanding you, god forbid that happen.”
“fine, fine. truth is, he was too gentle. like you said, he’s a drummer, he’s super muscular, and he’s huge, you expect him to give a rough fucking or even something adjacent to it, and like, i mean, i’m a big girl, i can take it, but every 5 minutes was like ‘are you okay?’ ‘is this too much’ ‘do you need me to stop?’ you’d have thought he was a virgin the way he was so awkward and nervous and gentle. it was weird.”
“that is weird. i never thought that’s how it would be with him.”
“did i ruin the magic for you? now that you know fucking your best friend would be underwhelming?”
“it wasn’t magic, more morbid curiosity,” he speaks.
“morbid? it’s not like we’re talking about fucking a dead body, it’s just george.”
“agree to disagree, my love.” he gets up, butt ass naked, and pulls on some clean boxers from his closet. then, he stops in his tracks, and turns around to face you again. “wait, answer the question, for real this time. i won’t be mad.”
“it’s you.” you speak it plain, simple, and true. you wonder why he even debated the question.
“really?”
“really. it’s always been you.”
“aw, that’s so sweet. just don’t go getting feelings for me, i’m a lone wolf, don’t do relationships,” he warns as he walks out of his room, heading to his kitchen.
the irony hits you as heavy as the new engagement ring on your finger he presented to you a week ago. you laugh to yourself, feeling smitten.
he returns in a moment with a glass of water and sets it down on the nightstand next to where you lay. “drink, darling”
you obey, giving him a look over the rim of the cold glass as it rests against your kiss-swollen lips. you swallow, “you’re being pretty sweet to me, for a ‘lone wolf.’”
he smiles, enjoying the near endless banter between the two of you. “every alpha needs their omega.”
“ew, that’s gross, get out of here, you freak!” you gently nudge him off of the side of the bed where he sits.
he gives you his classic dumb smile as he leaves the room with the now empty glass of water, likely returning it to the dishwasher.
when he gets back, you can’t help but continue his dumb conversation. “i think i’m the alpha in this relationship, anyway. you’re my bitch.”
he nods in agreement, “i’m your bitch.”
⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚:*⋆.*:・゚ .: ⋆*・゚: .⋆
taglist: @indierockgirrl @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @milkluvr8 @americanangel
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christinesficrecs · 1 year
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Anon asked:
Christine! Have you been reading any new Sterek fanfic lately? Do you have recs for fics posted or updated in the last year or so?
Here are the fics I’ve read recently. Some of them are new’ish. Also, check the fic rec friday tag for other great random fics. ❤️
The Lure of Gold by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 25.7K | WIP
Derek’s breath caught when he saw the gold flare in Stiles’ eyes.
There was something deeper in Stiles’ eyes than Derek had seen before—like the golden flicker of a lure, tempting a fish. And it nearly unnerved him.
Like the tale of the siren beckoning the sailor to the rocks, a fool hearted man who agreed too quickly to follow the sweet melody at the price of embracing death. Derek believed that to be a curse, once.
But would death greet such a foolish man if the siren truly wanted him?
and you are the only one, my everything by EvanesDust | 10.9K
Stiles is gay and in love with his best friend, Derek.
Derek is straight. He thought Stiles was, too, but then he walks in on Stiles with a guy and—holy shit!—maybe he's not so straight after all.
Stiles Stilinski's Epic Garage Band Experiment by DiscontentedWinter | 1.1K
“No,” says Dad when Stiles brings home the drum kit from the garage sale down the street. “No, no, no, no, no.”
I Wonder (Whatever Could It Be?) by MadcapRomantic | 10.5K | Explicit
Derek Hale works for the FBI. Intern Stiles Stilinski has moved departments twice, neither at his own request, and Derek is dreading dealing with him.
That is, until he gets a whiff of the kid...
Blindsided by AClosedFicIsNeverRead | 39.6K | Explicit
Derek exhaled tremulously and tried to stay calm. He called several more times, growing steadily more frantic each time, before allowing the truth to settle in: Stiles’ phone was off. “No. No, no, no, please, no,” Derek whispered to himself, barely able to see the screen through his tearful eyes. What had he done? Had he been so blinded by rage that he dismissed Stiles' call for help?
The Stilinski Method by Gia279 | 6.3K
In which Derek thinks he's in a meet cute, and Stiles thinks he's in a paranormal mystery. They're both smitten.
To Have Outlived the Night by stillane | 23.4K | Mature
Derek steps away from the window. “You helped me. They took that as a declaration.”
A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 25.1K | Mature
He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend. In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better.
Cookies, coffee and shut the fucupcakes by DropsOfAddiction | 26.2K | Explicit
“Ok. I’ve got a few shirts with me because I came here straight from work, but I think it’s going to be a tight fit. I know I’m not as skinny as I used to be but I’m not exactly the same hunky physique as you, oh grand macho werewolf,” Stiles shrugs.
Derek runs his eyes blatantly over Stiles’ chest.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Derek mutters, and he slams his mouth shut, teeth audibly clacking together, as if he really hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
Stiles flushes but he heads upstairs to grab Derek a spare dark shirt. When he gets back to the kitchen, Derek’s already shed his dirty shirt and he’s helping himself to Stiles’ half empty mug of coffee, neck thrown back as he drinks.
Stiles literally looks to the heavens because he must have done something really good in a past life to be awarded with the sight of Derek Hale’s naked, very firm, slightly hairy torso parading around his dad’s kitchen before eleven in the morning.
Drinking his coffee. Stiles’ mouth had just been on that mug. Right where Derek’s mouth is.
By elementary school rules of dating (ie sharing a bottle, your mouth touching where someone else’s mouth was just touching, sharing cooties) they’re now married.
Fault Line by MadcapRomantic | 11.8K | Explicit
When Derek comes to, his head hurts.
No, hurts is the wrong word. It's not strong enough. His head feels like it's being split in two, down the middle. His ears are ringing, and his vision is blurred.
But despite it all, strong and crisp and clear, is the underlying scent of home, pack, and mate.
What It Takes To Not Be Broken by Whispering_Sumire | 17.4K | Mature
He's pretty sure Death is nipping at his heels at this point.
But he has to stay awake, has to keep Gerard away from Erica and Boyd, the two Betas still tied up with mountain ash and electricity on the other side of the room, and it looks like they're trying to scream through their duct-tape, still, but he can't hear it, not anymore.
The terrible, all-consuming, staticky silence had over taken him after about the third time Gerard's lackey- Ben, he thinks his name was- had stuck a military grade taser to his ear, a low enough voltage not to cause brain damage, he'd said, because the point of this was for him to talk.
it's obvious, you're oblivious by EvanesDust | 14.8K | Explicit
Derek’s new roommate is alpha bait but seems disinterested in everyone—especially Derek.
Stiles is suddenly popular, but can't seem to catch the interest of the only alpha he actually likes.
...or the one where Stiles and Derek get paired together in room assignments and are secretly in love with the other.
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sanjisblackasswife · 1 year
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Breaking Up with Zoro(ANGST)
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Word Count: 1.7k
Black Fem Reader
CW: Lots of cussing, Arguing, Law is involved, Bad ending, All in All Angst
You guys actually are known for arguing in your relationship
You both argue at least once a day over something petty and everybody on the Sunny has come accustomed to it
“YOU CAN’T BRING A SWORD TO A GUN FIGHT ARE YOU INSANE?!”
“DOESNT MATTER I CAN KICK YOU AND ANY OTHER GUNSLINGERS ASS IF I NEEDED TO!”
“SHOCHU IS NOT BETTER THAN SAKE ARE YOU INSANE?!”
“UHHHH YES IT IS?!”
“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS FEEL THE NEED TO RAGE THE HELL OUT WHEN I SPEAK TO SANJI!”
“BECAUSE TWO PERVERTS SHOULDN’T BE IN A ROOM ALONE TOGETHER.”
“KISS MY ASS”
However one day you believe your argument may have turned for the worse.
You and Zoro have been actually having less interactions since you all met back up .
Zoro taken his role as the swordsman of the crew way more seriously and though you respect it and even admire it, it’s just you barely even communicate anymore. Not even petty arguments.
When you do start to try it he just breathes out his nose and finishes what he was doing as if he didn’t care to retort back
It just wasn’t the same between you and Zoro
And you even questioned If you and him were still together
Granted you both didn’t have much time to settle where your relationship was before separating, but you still wanted to at least talk about it, but you both never had time to do so
Intimacy has been long gone. When you seen him again he didn’t even hug you back he just patted your head
He doesn’t sleep in your room anymore. If he does it’s when you’re not in there and busy on watch
It started to get to you.
You wanted to wait and give it time but it’s been weeks now and it’s almost as if he subconsciously just broke up with you over the two years
You tried getting your mind off of it seeing as now there are bigger fish to fry and stronger enemies to defeat
Eventually you and the crew meet Law again and surprisingly you two hit it off better than him and anyone else on the crew.
He didn’t find you annoying—you were level headed and relatively nice to talk to so you managed to keep him company sometimes when he wanted to separate from all of the Strawhats
The attention he gave you was platonic but it was nice none the less—-you even managed to crack a smile out of him a few times
“Y/N-ya. Come help me with this, yeah?”
You both have amazing combat skills together too and it bought you some brownie points with him
Zoro However began to notice this friendship develop immediately
But he didn’t have time to ask you about it he needed to train more
Today though, he had some time
Zoro being Zoro was lost in the forest again but managed to somehow find you and Law sitting across from each other talking. You were laughing with him not even noticing the green haired swordsman approach you from the side.
“Lost again?” Law shot at Zoro still giving you eye contact.
Zoro Just grumbled, “NO! I just happened to find you both…we’re leaving this place soon so you both should wrap up your little date.” You frowned a bit at his tone. Date?
“Date?” You got up to follow him with Law a nice distance behind you both. “We were talking.”
“Yeah you two love doing that—“
“The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t mean shit. Keep walking.”
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a tiny bit happy seeing that Zoro at least noticed and felt jealous about you and Law’s closeness. In reality though you actually didn’t do that to get back at Zoro you enjoyed Law’s company and was refreshing to be around.
You and Zoro bickered a bit walking around the forest not even realizing you three were walking in circles because ZORO was guiding y’all.
“So if you see me talking to another woman what you’re ganna think I’m gay now?!”
“Go ahead and be gay for all I give a fuck—“
“THAT’S NOT THE POINT IM TRYING TO MAKE—“
“Room.”
You both appeared in front of the Sunny not even realizing it still arguing.
“HEY!” Law yelled getting both of your attention walking in between you both, “We’re back. Come find me when you’re done, Y/N-ya.”
“We’re done Talking actually.” Zoro Shot back heading to the training room.
“Says who?! I ain’t finish asshole the hell is all this passive aggressiveness towards me?!”
“Oh, Shut the fuck up!”
“NO YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO ALL FUCKING MONTH I BEEN TRYING TO TALK TO YOU BUT YOU BEING THE DICK THAT YOU ARE JUST BEEN IGNORING ME AND THE FIRST TIME WE DO YOU WANNA FUCKING ARGUE SO FUCK YOU!”
It got awkwardly quiet on the ship. Sanji, and Nami gasped, Robin covered Chopper’s ears, Luffy and Usopp stopped playing, and Franky & Brook just paused.
Zoro looked like the vein in his head was about to explode. He was irritated beyond belief and the patience he barely had was already ran out.
“Go the fuck up the ladder now.”
You squinted your eyes at him. His teeth was gritted at yours and he began to breath a little harder. If he were to hit you you honestly wouldn’t be surprised at this point. You felt the rage coming from his body, he never got this angry with you and you never got this angry with him.
“If we aren’t ganna resolve our issues then I’m not going no where with you.”
“Resolve what exactly? The fact that you can’t be alone? Or the fact that you got bigger tits and you wanna flaunt them around to every guy you see because you crave male attention —-“
“Ain’t this a bitch— THAT’S what you think I’m doing?! You think I’m being some kind of slut or something?! I don’t need nobody’s mothafuckin’ attention if anything I’d like yours but it seems like your swords have all of it!—“
“Y/N..” Nami whispered, and walked over behind you to grab your arm since you started to approach Zoro as if your were ganna hit him.
She and Robin seen the hurt in your face for a while now when Zoro ignores you, they haven’t said anything about it but they had a feeling a fight like this was bound to happen.
“At least my swords don’t go around cheating.”
“Ch—-YOU THINK IM CHEATING ON YOU?”
“IM NOT FUCKING STUPID Y/N IVE SEEN HOW CLOSE YOUVE GOTTEN WITH THAT TRA-GUY—“
“IM ONLY CLOSE WITH HIM BECAUSE WE HAVE GOOD CONVERSATION. WE. COMMUNICATE. UNLIKE. YOU. AND I.” You pointed your finger back and fourth looking as if you were ready to shoot Zoro right then and there so Nami ran over out of worry and held you back by your arm and Usopp and Brook ran over to hold Zoro back because he had the same angry look in his eyes.
“IF YOU KNEW HOW TO SPEAK I WOULDN’T HAVE TO GO TO TALK TO OTHER MEN. Ever thought about that? Roronoa Zoro?”
Zoro stopped moving and just sighed pulling away from the two and walked the opposite way.
“Then keep communicating with him because we’re through. He can have you.”
It was almost as if none of your points were being heard. Your stomach dropped to your ass hearing him wanting to be done with you.
You scoffed.
Sanji was about to go and beat Zoro possibly to death for how he was speaking to you but you stopped him. It didn’t matter it wasn’t going to change anything.
“NO, ITS NOT OKAY YOU PIECE OF SHIT YOU DON’T TALK TO A WOMAN LIKE THAT—!”
“Sanji!” You Held him back fighting any slick of tear to fall down the rim of your waterline. “It’s fine….leave him.”
-
Weeks have past since the argument, the entire energy of the crew has changed. You and Zoro stayed Your distances and never even spoke a syllable to each other once. You don’t eat with the crew anymore no matter how many times Sanji tries to kick Zoro out, but you just try to avoid the trouble.
The girls tried making you feel better, even Luffy tried by doing stupid faces but you haven’t cracked a smile in you don’t know how long. Your face is deadpanned now but your eyes constantly look sad.
You don’t talk much at all either and it hurts, a literal pain in your chest. You’ve been having headaches and a bit of sickness as well. Usually when you feel bad Zoro pokes fun at you for not having his immune system and holds you all day making Sanji bring you soups and teas. But that’s in the long past and now you’re alone in your room. Eyes were puffy, hair was wrapped in a tight scarf, and you had on nothing but a loose shirt and shorts as everybody except you, Franky, and Chopper were out on some new land. Nothing but the sounds of the crashing water and your subtle sniffles fill the room. You wasn’t sure if it was sniffs from being sick or sad but you didn’t care to figure out which
You sat up and decided to just read a book until you fell asleep again. You rummage through your stuff and found a picture. From two years ago. It was the first time you kissed Zoro and Luffy managed to sneak a lot of pictures, from when you both were caught, to Sanji looking pissed, to Zoro chasing Luffy and Sanji chasing Zoro. It was the first night Zoro confessed, how much you meant to him, how much he loved you, but didn’t “like” you, how much you drove him crazy—
And how much he wanted to be with you even after you both achieved your goals.
All the wonderful memories of you and Zoro pulled out some tears blurring your vision, you laughed at yourself with your cheeks now being stained, how stupid could you be to fall for him so hard?
Your chest hurts again. More than it did before it nearly felt like you couldn’t breathe, you hit the back of the wall and slid down crying in ache and pain in silence. Even moreso because now when you see Zoro from the times you mindlessly glanced at him, he looks happier to be without you than with you.
Is this what a heart break felt like?
815 notes · View notes
rainiishowers · 4 months
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Obey Me Incorrect Quotes
A/N: Haha sleep deprivation go brrrrr
———
MC: So I can either do something dumb that could very well get me injured or I can listen to Simeon and not do the thing,
MC: Well there’s a clear right answer here.
MC: *proceeds to throw five packs of mentos into a barrel full of diet coke*
——
Barbatos’, at Solomon’s “funeral”: I need a moment with them.
Everyone else at the funeral: Of course. *leaves*
Barbatos, leaning over Solomon’s coffin: Okay, listen here you little shit. I know you’re not dead.
Solomon, sitting up in the coffin: Yeah, no shit.
——
Asmodeus: If I'm extra sarcastic with you it probably means I'm flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can't handle your crap... have fun figuring out which one.
——
Satan: ARE YOU-
MC: Fucking.
Satan: KIDDING ME?! YOU-
MC: Fucking.
Satan: IDIOT!
Beelzebub: …What was that?
MC: Lucifer banned Satan from swearing, so I’m helping him out.
——
Simeon: The odds of this happening by coincidence are vanishingly small.
Satan: I would say infinitesimally.
Mammon: And I'd say teenily-weenily. We all know words
——
Leviathan: I lost my fish.. :(
Beelzebub, cooking the fish: …Uhm…
——
Solomon: Protip is you do not feel good about yourself after eating tomato sauce on iceberg lettuce.
Luke: Are you okay???
Solomon: I literally JUST said I ate tomato sauce on iceberg lettuce. Pay attention.
Simeon: No, they mean other than that.
Solomon: Ohhhhhh.
Solomon: I haven't slept in 4 days.
——
Belphegor: Why were you up yesterday until 3am?
Mammon: How did you know I was up until 3am?
Lucifer: We could hear you clapping to the FRIENDS intro every 25 minutes.
——
Mammon: If we don’t get out of this alive… If we’re both about to die… I love you, MC!
*Neither of them die*
MC: …
Mammon: …
MC: So do you wanna talk about somethi-
Mammon: No thank you.
——
MC: How long do you reckon it’ll be until Simeon finally snaps and commits murder?
Solomon: I’ve been going through life assuming it’s already happened at some point and it’s just that no one was ever able to trace it back to them.
——
MC: We’re going to defeat you with the power of friendship!
Mephisto: We’re not friends.
MC, holding an axe: We’re going to defeat you with the power of incredible violence.
——
Asmodeus: Don't break someone's heart, they only have one.
Satan: Break one of their bones instead, they have 206 of them
——
Beelzebub: I’m so jetlagged I can’t even regrender my chorf.
*Everyone stares at Beel*
Beelzebub: …I don’t even know what I was trying to say.
——
Asmodeus: What's worse than a heartbreak?
Satan: Stepping on a cat's tail and not being able to explain that you're sorry.
——
Luke: You know guys, sometimes I feel like Lucifer doesn't take me seriously enough.
Mammon: "Sometimes"?
Solomon: "Enough"?
Luke: …
——
Lucifer: Lord Diavolo? What are you doing here?
Diavolo, wearing a hawaiian shirt, sunglasses and holding a gatorade: My best.
——
Mammn: *is throwing stones at MC’s window*
MC: You have a phone for a reason, Mammon!
*THUD*
MC: DID YOU JUST THROW YOUR PHONE AT MY WINDOW?!
——
Solomon: Guess who just found out the difference between wax paper and parchment paper the hard way?
Asmodeus: Wait, what’s the difference?
Solomon: One you can use in the oven safely, and the other you can also use in the oven... if the thing you are trying to make happens to be fire.
——
Solomon: Wow, they really hate us.
Asmodeus: Yea, perhaps they’re homophobic.
Solomon: But we’re not gay, Asmo.
Asmodeus: We’re not?
132 notes · View notes
magicalrocketships · 9 months
Note
ok im ready to be converted. what f1 fics do u recommend to start my full brain rot?
EXCELLENT, my plan is working (make people like what I like). Here is a very small and somewhat random selection, mostly Daniel/Max except where stated. Extremely loosely grouped. I've said if they're focused on them racing (grid), even if it's an AU. I have not associated anyone's ao3 handle with their tumblr name, so apologies for that. Do come back and tell me your thoughts and feelings. (!!)
F1 TASTING MENU (Maxiel Flavour)
Amuse Bouche: an opening vid
maxiel x 2022 season - “i would just draw it at like, i wouldn’t say love” by @daniel-enchante
Starters (shorter (ish) fics)
Cool Things to Say to Your Soulmate - words by powerfulowl, art by loveleah (grid, E): Only dumbasses get goosed. If a Soulmate Goose of Enforcement comes to intervene in your love life, it is a clear sign you have fucked up. You’re so bad at navigating human relationships that the universe thinks a violent waterfowl impervious to damage and capable of walking through walls will actually improve the situation. 
i carry your heart with me by capsize (grid, M): “What’s up little guy?” Daniel asks – because like his car, Max’s heart is a boy too – and moves the heart from the desk into his lap. “Is Max not paying attention to you? He can be a bit of a cunt, yeah? No, I know.” Or, five times someone found Max’s heart, and one time they kept it.
Just kissed you hello by charlotte_stant (grid, M): Everything freezes for a long moment—and then Daniel’s heart is back to beating and it’s fine, he can see how funny the situation is. “Maximus, my brother, my comrade,” he says, “what the fuck, mate. I’m not gay, ok?"
Amuse Bouche: another vid
max and daniel at redbull by @love-leah
Main Course (longer fics)
Good To You by TheNorthRemembers (grid, E): Max walks and talks like he has a big dick. He always has, and it’s not like Daniel ever really thought about Max’s dick, but he just- He assumed, maybe. That the equipment would match the attitude. That at the very least what Max is packing, would be completely average. The fact, that apparently it’s not- Well. Daniel doesn’t know what to do with that information, in more ways than one. Or: Max a small dick, Daniel is into it; lots of sex and a bit of angst ensue
my kind's your kind by hardlythewiser (grid, series, E, Max/Kelly/Daniel, resolving with Max/Daniel): Max can talk about it now, out of bed, casual. Kelly helped him practice, talking about it like it was just another activity, like her tennis lessons or nights out with friends, ever since that first time. But she doesn't say anything now.
To the Victor Belong the Spoils by powerfulowl (hunger games AU, E): Daniel didn’t kill anyone in the arena. He’s the one untarnished Hunger Games victor. The beautiful boy who stole the hearts of Panem with a fishing net and a smile. He can kiss babies and sell sun cream and fuck who they tell him to fuck and suck on the fingers that feed him– he’s not gonna bite. But then Max wins the Hunger Games. Max bites.
Amuse Bouche: vid time
"what's going on between you and max verstappen?" by @love-leah
Dessert (where the focus is on sex)
Sweeter than I ever knew by purples_all_the_way_down (grid, girls, E): Daniel has never had an orgasm. Somehow (Charles, it's always Charles), Max gets involved. Things get complicated.
I just want to know you like nobody ever has by 33Max (grid, E): They are in the bathroom, Daniel had insisted that he needed a shower if they were going to do this. He’s still damp, Max hadn’t even waited for him to dry himself off before he was pushing Daniel against the counter and dropping to his knees behind him.
Coffee (something different)
both hands tied on the wheel by kayshea (George Russell/Toto Wolff, grid, E): George feels, stupidly, like a cat that’s been stroked. Like his skin is electric. It’s what everyone has been saying to him all day, but it feels different, somehow, coming from Toto.
if i should come upon your house lonely by withfeathers (Lewis Hamilton/Hanna Prater/Sebastian Vettel, grid, E): The summer after Sebastian's retirement, Lewis visits Switzerland for a week. Nothing about it goes as he expected.
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aj1dordinary · 5 months
Text
chat is this real???
platonic!Johnny Cage x platonic!gen-z!reader
lowkey crack???
im crossed asf and while viewing a MK1 tiktok w/ Johnny and ‘International Love’, couldn’t help but think of how cool it would be to be Johnny Cage’s assistant… like he has the same energy as a Gen Z-er. We’d be besties fr.
just so u know, im black and fem so !reader is gonna be interpreted as black and fem xox
“johnny baby~” you trilled as you step out of the Uber to meet him at his house. as his social media manager, it was your job to record all the content across all social media platforms. with his new movie coming out paying homage to the ‘Indiana Jones’ franchice, you thought it would be good for promo if you recorded you both doing a trendy Tiktok dance.
fans of Johnny Cage knew you nearly as a duo. when people conduct interviews on a set or on the red carpet, people could always count on you ready to capture that night’s funniest quote or moment that would circulate like crazy. you’d also frequently appear in them, physically forcing johnny to keep up with the latests trends as a nearing 40 year old man. The comments would always be filled with remarks like “i fear for your well-being if you EVER get rid of y/n” or “y/n’s mind neverrr misses”. safe to say, your career is secured.
you nearly skip to his door when you notice the door was wide open, obvious signs of a break-in occurring. “oh my god,” you inhaled deeply, the tone coming from a mix of your head and your belly. “mr. cage!” you then screech, you hide in the nearest shrubs while fishing through your purse to find your phone then your taser. when the two items occupy your grasp, you look up to sky, take a deep breath, then let out a war screech. simultaneously, you start the instagram live while holding down the button of your taser, the electric crackles breaking up the audio of you screaming. 
you run in through his foyer before stumbling upon a scene between some japanese guy strapped to a chair, a man with glowing fucking eyes, and two hot guys. ok, maybe one hot guy, the other guy had literal frost coming from his hand… still hot tho.
“Oh damn y’all.. i just caught the behind-the scenes of johnny’s gay porn. my fault og’s.” you said before abruptly ending the livestream.
you barging in phone-first with the need to catch johnny cage’s demise on camera being the first thing you think of before your wellbeing (the taser) had johnny chuckling a bit. if anything, had it actually been his demise, at least you would’ve got his good side. he liked that you were committed to the job as he was committed to cinema. suddenly, a lightbulb idea hit him. 
“oh~” he chuckled. “i hope you don’t mind if i bring my assistant.” he patted the shoulder of the glowing-eye man, before tipping his sunglasses at you . “I’m afraid i won’t be at my 100% otherwise.”
“nuh-uh” you raise your eyebrows, appalled that he was gonna offer your service on behalf.
“uhhh yuh-huh.” johnny mocked you now turning toward you. the party that you’ve yet to address just look between the two of you riff off one another. johnny (supposedly one of Earthrealm’s defenders) and a young women (maybe the source of his strength/energy)? the two hot ones look at each other through a side eye before shrugging.
“nuh-uh johnny, that wasn’t in the contract. i told you that if you had any body other than me as your assistant right now, you would’ve been got your ass lit up in fucking court. i cant stand your ass sometimes, y’know?” johnny speed walked (sped walk?) over to you as you kept going off on his ass, before grabbing your elbow and dragging you to some corner.
“y/n~” he whined almost on the verge of throwing a tantrum. Meanwhile, you stand firm, tapping your feet as though you were impatient. “you’re embarrassing me in front of a literal god right now. and i mean LITERALLY god.” you scrunched your face up and roll your eyes. “no, believe me I thought the same thing at first, but he literally shoots fireballs out his hand and summons dragons. other two remind me of that show you watch, y’know the intro that goes ‘then everything changed when the fire nation attacked’” he nearly pouted, trying to think of a way to get you to believe him.
You raise an eyebrow, rolling your eyes at the near puppy-dog eyes johnny gives you through the dark lens of his shades, his lips nearly quivering. 
“oklahoma?” you state, both of you binging had been binging ‘Ted Lasso” and thought it’d be funny (for yourselves and his audience) to start implementing it.
“oklahoma.” he returns with bated breath.
You try to see if you can gauge any other emotion before sighing and withdrawing your tense stance.
“i need you to record everything we encounter in this “Outerrealm”. for when i’m busy improvisin’ and kickin’ ass. all of it.” He paced both hands on your shoulder.
“24/7?” you question.
“yes.”
“sounds like an unpaid business trip. what’s in it for me?” You respond almost before he could finish the word. 
“$1 million pension and I’ll let you have 50% of the rights on the new movie i make about this shit.” He responded just as fast.
“done. nice doing business with you old man.” you shake his hand.
almost as quickly as he pulled you away, you fix your appearance before heading back out to the living room to address the crowd of supernatural men.
“alright boys. you heard him, the name’s y/n and i need to be with johnny 24/7. if i can’t go, he can’t go. We have a very tight schedule to run and demands must be met before we let you squeeze in your alleged plans to save the world.” you cross your arms in front of you and look up at the three sweaty and built (damn. damn. damn. d-) men.
“my name is lui kang, champion and protector of Earthrealm. as much as i'd hate to have a civilian on the front line, i anticipate that your liveliness is secure. regardless, if that would make johnny more than comfortable, then i gladly accept your presence.” the  supposed god said. 
“glad we could make this work” you stuck out your hand to shake all three. the god returned the gesture - his hands warm and rough. you offer the gesture to the rest of the entourage, the man permeating the frost didn’t dare look at your outstretched hand, refusing to return the gesture. but he spoke a rough “bi han” that you took as his name. the other grasped your hand and shook it, more amused at your obvious lack of knowledge of who you were dealing with. he was broken out of his thoughts when you look at your hand in near amazement. “kuai liang” he spoke.
“sir, i think you’ve just cured my anemia” your eyes widen in admiration. johnny just rolled his eyes as he cut what you assumed to be the intruder out of the chair. you address him next.
“and sorry for johnny’s affinity for ropes, he’s got a thing for BDSM.” 
“do not..” he mumbles, you throw him a knowing glance.
“kenshi” he merely grunted, wiping broken glass off his suit.
“well,” you start. “looks like shit in here, but i’m sure we can write it off somewhere. what’s next on the schedule kangaroo?”
lui kang looks a bit taken aback at the nickname you chose for him, but he clears his throat to recalibrate.
“we must travel to wu shi academy to prepare for a tournament where Earthrealm’s fate lies in the hands of warriors i have hand picked.”
“and this guy is one of them?” you interrupt. the guy deemed kenshi chuckled.
lui kang smiled and nodded his head.
“well,” you check your watch. “let’s get on with it. we have a tiktok due at 7 PM and a set to be on within a week.” 
lui kang turns and begins swirling his hands before a literal portal appears in johnny’s living room.
“holy-“ you start already pulling your phone out to record like johnny requested. he nudged your side as to say ‘i told you so’.
so thus, your journey begins as johnny’s personal cheerleader and assistant as he sets off to kick some serious ass and not care about the names.
-end-
!please!let!me!know!what1you!think! i feel like a suck at writing, but i do maladaptive daydream a lot so i have plenty more ideas i’d like to write about. otherwise, xoxo go piss girl
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captainzigo · 26 days
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since I have been making my little pony comics for the past few months, I have basically forgotten what every single one of my duckverse comic prompts means. I had a big list full of one sentence prompts for duckverse comics that I was going to make, and I was reading through it yesterday, because I thought about making one. I was surprised to find out that I have no idea what any of them mean. instead of just deleting the list, I have decided to share with you. For what good it will do you. Think of this as a little shout out to the people who followed me for duckverse content. i havent forgotten about you. it’s also a little peek in my twisted mind. my horrible creation process. a behind the scenes look from hell. the list of prompts is below the break
max college fund
launchpad rescue hero
costco 22¢ per bite
house of mouse
door to darkness
because i’m hispanic?
donald cousins catch and release
fish wife
the greatest skateboard trick in the seven seas
backyardagins movie
evil versions boy band
gladstone gay moms
the poor part of town
private army of freaks vs my boys
you own the town. you are politics - what do you think taxes are for - not gladstone bail - id be doing everyone a favor
kids table is great actually
donald cry gold swim
beautiful gold moon
villains table
these lovebirds
gladstone can’t read
gladstone hyper specific thrift store shirt
louie seeing anyone right now?
managed my uncle’s finances
june dolls episode
may louie webs spy episode
house of mouse christmas hdl want to come
propeller cap start to turn. big wind. its a helicopter landing. thanks babe
double gay batteries
daisy likes donald snoring
if you can understand anything he says then yeah!
sora. quack pack. bald monkey
i respect your pronouns. i dont not respect YOU scrooge
why are you friends with my rival’s girlfriend
we’re sisters now too???
The dancing hacker - do you know how hard it is to lucid dream
are you guys playing dancing hacker?
how did you do that? Those dice were rigged i mean.
you guys were supposed to prepare a musical number every session
Lady in pink but with a knife
girl boss? No girl lady. But not a girl.
sephirof at the door. never seen Donald that serious in my life.
I have a superhero alter ego - like super Grover?
louie x robin the frog
daffy: i’m getting you a job in Hollywood, kid! You gonna make big times. Why? uh… i’m friends with your mom.
Duckburg community college is the only community college that does dance scholarship
duckberg community ducks, and the Duckburg University geese
in helicopter: you ever going to get tired of having our dates like this? no never.
donald take responsibility for our son! panchito what
babe your costume is terrible. why are you still in a sailor hat
tasha austin gay lesbian solidarity
hey webby! *glittery hands*
webby diary
shake for trust? glitter on hand. body slam
why did t you tell me your girlfriend is a pilot? tasha said i shouldn’t tell you because of what happened to you pilot ex. he’s still alive!
pablo: sleeper agents be like time for my next mission
CHRISTMAS GIFTS
WHATS UP T-BOYS?
donald’s boyfriends what does gladstone have against gay people
donald you should wingman for me. i thought you were gay
dugan duck is your secret kid isn’t he
huey ponytail
donald has three boyfriends why can’t i have two
woops i mexed up their super powers - let’s go, t boys! i didn’t make them trans! they were like that before, right?
your brother donald has like five partners. yeah and i’m not my brother donald. you’re right. i should date your brother donald
dewey damn girl your ass phat what are your pronouns. katy nun/ya
tying normie trans girl to a chair turbo pablo
don’t worry. the promise ring is just a tracking device
punch buggy gets steadily more and more violent
dewey’s many licenses
duck twins cobwebs
beaks: help! #911
katy can not entertain in her tiny trailer
uno gaydar donald i finally give you a job and you’re being gay on the clock??
when mom comes in and you have to hide your DS under your pillow
HDL Tulin
HDL chart
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kirislovelygf · 11 months
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told you so (tsireya x omaticayan fem! reader)
contents: angstttt, y/n’s a lil delulu, gay girl x straight girl, neteyam being best brother, sapphic pain, wlw heartbreak
part two here !!
☁︎ ̩͙✧
it seems so obvious, right? why would you purposefully go after someone who you know will never ever be interested in you romantically?
it didn’t weigh on her how much it would hurt until she saw he happy she was with him.
her own brother, talking to tsireya like he was already getting all the girls.
y/n watched from a distance as tears of jealousy burned her eyelids.
the worst part was tsireya looked so much happier talking to him than she ever was with her.
everyone told her “don’t do it” and “look for someone else.”
“pick someone in your league.”
“or someone who actually likes girls.”
especially her brother, neteyam. but no matter how much advice she was given, she didn’t care. she knew who she wanted and there was no changing that.
she huffs and wipes her tears from her cheeks as she turns to face away from the two.
neteyam noticed her expression and looks down at his sister.
“i won’t say i told you so, but..”
“i get it, man. you don’t gotta say it, i know.” she responded quickly.
he sighs and looks down at his fishing net. he looks at his sister, who’s muttering stressfully to herself.
“go take a rest or something. i got this.” he said to her.
she looks up at him. “what? no, it’s fine.”
“i’m not asking. i’m telling. go.” he snatches the fish ner from her hands and she stares at him for a moment before laughing softly.
“alright, fine.”
he smiled as she walks away, onto the beach, and back into their marui. he glanced back at his brother before huffing.
y/n sat in her marui, alone with her thoughts.
she was sure they had a connection before. all those nights she spent together with tsireya felt like a dream.
they’d spend nights wandering the island, talking about their lives and everything surrounding them. they’d laugh, hold hands, lay in the sand together.
she was so absolutely sure they’d end up together.
until one night when they were lying on the sand on one of the beaches once again, and tsireya confessed she had a secret to tell.
“promise you won’t say anything?” she asked her.
y/n turns her head to look at her as they lied on the sand, facing up at the sky.
“i promise.” she interlocks her hand with tsireya’s.
“okay.” tsireya sighs and looks back up at the sky.
“i have a crush on someone.” she squealed quietly. y/n’s heart skipped a beat as they looked at each other again.
“woww, who?” she asked her.
tsireya sighs and looks back up at the stars.
“uh.. okay. i have a crush on lo’ak.” she smiled.
it took everything in y/n not to break down crying. her smile faded slightly but she quickly fixed it when tsireya looked her way.
“no way.” she gasped.
“yes! he’s very sweet and funny. and kind, and very handsome.”
“i mean… yeah, sure. if you think he is, then yes.” y/n chuckled.
tsireya laughed and pushed her shoulder slightly.
their laughter dies down and they stay silent.
“is it weird? i know he is your brother and you two are very close. i don’t want anything to change between us.” tsireya says to her.
it already has.
“of course. no, it’s okay. i want you to be happy. and if lo’ak makes you happy, then you have my support.” y/n responds, choking back tears.
“really?” tsireya smiled.
no.
“yes. you’ll always be my best friend.” she told her.
tsireay sighs contently and they look at the stars again.
y/n had to tune every thing tsireya said about her brother for the next agonizing hour.
y/n pushed the memory aside when her brothers came back to get her. he needed help carrying the fish in.
the siblings came back later that night, one with more attitude than the other.
and the whole family took notice.
jake and neytiri were sitting by a fire, laughing and talking to each other.
kiri was with tuk in another part of the marui, tuk putting charms in kiri’s hair.
when y/n stomped in, she spotted lo’ak sitting in her corner, taking a nap on one of her pillows.
she stomped over and snatched the pillow from under his head, making him sit the wooden beam he landed on.
“ow! what the hell!?” he barked.
“use your own pillow.” she grumbled.
she walked away and lo’ak slapped her leg as she did. she turned and hit him as hard as she could with her pillow.
“y/n!” jake yelled out.
“what? he’s using my stuff without asking!” she said.
“so? you weren’t using that pillow. leave your brother alone.” he scolded.
she looks down at lo’ak’s smug face before groaning and walking away to her room, a sectioned off part of the marui.
when she walked in, she pulled the tarp off it’s hook and draped it across the doorway, on the other hook to create a door.
she threw her pillow on the floor before plopping down on her sleeping mat.
she cried softly into her hands. she hated her brother. and herself.
how can her brother betray her like this? he has to have known about her crush that she’s kept secret from literally everyone.
he should have been able to tell and should have backed off.
but at the end of the day, it’s not anyones fault. tsireya is who she is and there’s no changing that.
nothing y/n can do but stand to the side and support her for who she loves.
y/n’s breath hitched as someone made their presence known at her doorway.
she sniffed and wiped tears from her cheeks.
“please go away.” she whimpered.
“it’s just me.” neteyam spoke.
y/n rolls her yes and sighs before getting up go pull the tarp aside.
she lets him in and they sit down in the corner next to each other.
“i heard your crying.” he said after a couple moments of silence.
she looks at him. “what about everyone else?”
“no, it’s okay. just me.” he responded.
she sighed and covered her face. he stays looking at her sad little sister.
“what can i do to make you feel better?” he asked.
“nothing, neteyam. you can’t make tsireya like me.” she said, the soreness from her crying affecting the sound of her voice.
he sighs.
“i should have taken your advice earlier. than i wouldn’t be hurting now.” she raised her legs up to her chest before folding her arms on top of them to lay her head on them.
“i’m not trying to say anything like that. I’m not trying to say i told you so. i only care about when you’re feeling like this and what i can do to help.”
she stared at the woven floor of the marui.
“you can beat up lo’ak for me. make him so ugly, tsireya won’t like him anymore.” she said.
neteyam’s laughs make her smile slightly.
they stay quiet for another moment.
“just let me be alone.”
“are you sure?”
“yes. i’ll be okay. thank you.” she told him,
neteyam smiled and rubs her arm affectionately before getting up and leaving her be like she asked.
a couple hours pass after everyone’s gone to bed and y/n left the marui to sit on the beach by herself.
she sits on the sand with her hands at her side, her nails digging in the sand as the gentle waves brush over them.
she sighed while looking up at the moonlight. before plopping on her back, and groaning.
how could i be so stupid? she thought.
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