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whyse7vn · 7 months

Text

BREAKING POINT -

[ ot7 x reader ]

this is like super short pls forgive me tan twitter tl for context

tan on twitter!!!

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

tae: yoongi pls unblock me on twitter

yoongi: kill yourself

tae: i tried guys why doesn’t he love me 💔

y/n: that was a pathetic try

tae: guess what

y/n: what?

tae: ligma man..

y/n: ligma??

jimin: no way 😭

jk: baby…

namjoon: really

y/n: WHAT???

jin: i’m with her

wtf you guys on about??

hobi: this is a sad day

tae: LIGMA FUCKING BALLS BITCH

y/n: drown

jimin: ur fault tbh

hobi: real

y/n: leave me alone

jin: look you made her upset idiots

y/n: IM NOT UPSET

hobi: cheer up baby ❤️

namjoon: it’s okay tae upsets me all the time

y/n: im fine

hobi: bts song

jk: i know bts

tae: me 2

y/n: i want to stab you with a pencil

tae: watch out namjoon

namjoon: she is definitely talking to you

tae: proof?

hobi: bts?

jimin: i’m gonna bts outta you shut the fuck up

hobi: aw man :/

jk: bts?

jin: beat the shit

tae: beat MY shit

jk: woah

yoongi: he actually needs to kill himself wow

tae: @y/n u 2

y/n: LEAVE ME ALONE

jimin: she’s mad

y/n: I’M NOT MAD

jin: y/n are you still with that scoups guy?

namjoon: didn’t we just find out they we’re together like a week ago?

jk: WE DID????

jin: she moves on fast tho so idk

y/n: NO I DONT????

jimin: yoongi mingyu jk scoups mark wonho minho san all of us

there’s more hold on i’m thinking

hobi: all of us?

jk: say sike…

y/n: ARE YOU FUCKING SICK???????

jin: woah major slut alertttttt

namjoon: shut up

y/n: ONLY LIKE 4 OF THOSE NAMES ARE RIGHT

jk: what

y/n: AND IVE ONLY FUCKED 2 OF THEM SO KILL YOURSELF LEAVE ME ALONE

yoongi: she’s a grown woman

y/n: RIGHT

sorry i’m hot as fuck and pull bitches it’s not my fault

jin: u mid

y/n: ur 30

jin: ok please leave me alone i’m sorry

tae: my body count is also 2

jimin: -2

tae: ummmm?

jk: i’ve killed no one

i could of but don’t worry

namjoon: ??

hobi: fyi she did not deny being with scoups

jimin: TRUE

jk: NO

y/n: i deny it

jimin: too late we know

jin: SLUT

sorry

pls i’m sorry i didn’t mean it pls don’t be mean to me

please oh my god i’m sorry it slipped out

love u

please

y/n: THIS IS NOT FEMINISM

namjoon: it’s okay if ur with him

jk: NO ITS NOT STOP SAYING THAT WHATS UR FUCKING ISSUE STUPID STUPID STUPID

y/n: IM NOT

tae: who have you fucked

yoongi: are you stupid?

tae: no i’m curious

hobi: OH IM CURIOUS YEAH

wow i love shinee

y/n can you please start talking to minho again and then get married to him so i can be at his wedding and we can be forever connected

jk: SHUT UR MOUTH

y/n: you guys know so much about my relationship life it actually makes me want to throw up

jimin: ur easy to stalk

hobi: she’s fucked jk and yoongi

tae: and me

jin: in dreams doesn’t count

yoongi: lol

tae: LOL AWAY FROM ME YOU NASTY BITCH

U THINK UR WINNING BUT UR FUCKING NOT

WHEN ME AND Y/N GET MARRIED IT WILL BE ME KIM TAEHYUNG WHO LOLS IN UR FUCKING FACE

YOU RAT

yoongi: L

tae: no

yoongi: O

tae: YOU FUCKING STOP RIGJT NOW MIN YOONGI

yoongi: L

tae: 6pm seoul south korea apartment block C floor 7 door number 279 a ak47 a man a mask and a fucking dream

namjoon: wow ok that’s great!!

nice vogue shoot btw jungkook!

jk: I WILL NOT FUCK U GO AWAY

namjoon: oh my fucking god

hobi: scottish pride!!

jimin: ???

hobi: was he not wearing a kilt?

jimin: a what?

hobi: killing myself

jin: why they put you in that dirty ass bathroom omg?

tae: dirty shoot for a dirty man

jin: ?

tae: what?

jin: just a bit crazy coming from u

y/n: tae you need to shower

tae: you in love

fucking bitch

jin: do you fuck her or fight her damn?

jimin: right he’s pissing me off

tae: can you leave me alone i’m going through a lot rn

jk: dick

tae: ??

jk: a lot of dick

yoongi: lmao

namjoon: he likes men?

hobi: ewwwwwwwwwwww

jimin: homophobia?????????

jk: yes so he’s going through them

cuz he does not like y/n

yoongi: you say this like every 2 weeks

jk: because it is true

y/n: thank god

jk: no thank men

hobi: thx men

jin: so it’s not jimin?

jimin: what??

tae: i’ve never touched another man let alone sleep with one

hobi: amen

y/n: now that is just not true

namjoon: who cares

tae: I DO

hobi: no one will ever say those words to you

jin: i will

tae: fr 🥲?

jin: LOL

tae: ok kys

and fuck that bitch y/n

yoongi: have

tae left “tan on twitter”

hobi: cuteness overload ^_^

y/n: what crawled up his ass today tf

jk: hi do you need me do you want me do you love me

namjoon: can we just talk about life or like

jin: let me guess trees?

jimin: weed?

jk: OH MY GOD NAMJOON WANTS TO TALK ABOUT WEED

hobi: life is a downward spiral noting matters we are all slowly dying the government hates us money is worthless drugs are all around our water is running out

jk: where is it running out of

let’s catch it

y/n: tae was being super weird right?

hobi: super shy

namjoom: what’s new

hobi: new hair

namjoon: stop

hobi: forgive me master

namjoon: i’m at my breaking point

jimin: breaking bad

jin: drugs?

jimin: it all links back to namjoon…

jk: omgggggg namjoon is this true……..

namjoon: LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE

—-

pls lmk if you like the twitter concept idk if i’m feeling her yet but if you guys are i will do more idk trying to be different 🙈

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stupid-sloot-headcanons · 24 days

Text

Amai Mask/F!Darling: Lucky (1/)

If you were anyone else, you'd be wondering how you were fortunate enough to spend most of your life in Amai Mask's penthouse. I mean, he's at the top of every "Top 10" list for Heroes, pop stars, models, and singers. Bad lighting doesn't exist for him. And his body looks like it was carved from marble. He had so many fans that would kill to live with him.

And yet, the "lucky" one was you, and all because you had the gall to criticize him. To refuse him.

You were dragged to a dumb concert by a friend who'd won two tickets, and you had the nerve to open your fat mouth while waiting in the backstage line. That was the crime that warranted you being kidnapped, imprisoned, and hurt in ways you never imagined.

"Look, I have celebrities I crush on that you don't think are attractive, and this guy is yours," you'd said diplomatically. "I just don't get the appeal of a guy who's so dedicated to a facade that he named himself after it."

"Oh, come on," your friend groaned. "His name is about his appearance! Like, he looks so sweet, but it's a mask to hide how badass he is and how violent he gets with monsters."

"Yeah, I'm sure he can punch monsters real good," you replied sarcastically. "Plenty of Heroes punch monsters without turning their job as a civil servant into an entertainment career. Doesn't that make you feel...weird? It's like if a K-Pop idol was also in the milit--"

"Compulsory service is a thing in South Korea," your friend quipped.

You crossed your arms. "Okay, bad example. Imagine if a K-Pop idol was a firefighter, or a cop, or a fed. Which he is, technically."

"Gawd, I'd kill to see him in a uniform," she sighed. "Can you imagine? Holding those cuffs..."

"I'm sure the guy who beats criminal Monsters to death would show restraint and use nonlethal force like handcuffs. Well, if you're a human, he probably would. Though if you're not hot by typical standards I could see him being rough, just because you're not quite as human as the Pretty People."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. Getting roughed up by him after he cuffs me? The crime rate would go wayyy up just for people dying to get that chance~"

You rolled your eyes. "Can anyone in this line explain to me how this guy is hot in a way that's totally distinct from every other idol? Apart from the fact that he has a different serial number from the others that came from the same entertainment industry factory?"

"Okay, Daria," your friend said with a smirk. "Just because you're too good to be into idols doesn't mean we aren't."

"I'm fine with idols, just not ones like...him," you retorted. "Either be an entertainer or be an enforcer of the government. I'm not a conspiracy theorist but with his influence, he could get away with all sorts of dirty shit. And he's probably done way worse than the typical police brutality against Monsters." You crinkled your nose at the countless posters, CDs, t-shirts, figures, all bearing his aesthetically perfect and boringly pretty face. "He just seems so hollow, you know? I almost feel bad for him."

Your friend snorted. "You sure sound like it."

"Look, let's say for the sake of argument that he is using a persona all the time. He's an agent of the federal government AND an idol, both being industries that exploit the shit out of everyone inside. And he's so stuck inside that he can never express any genuine emotion that doesn't look good. Imagine not being able to feel or express shit that everyone else on the planet gets to: you can't feel anything without immediately wondering what you look like and adjusting so you don't look ugly while you feel it."

"So you're saying he self-monitors as much as your average woman?"

"In a Naomi Wolf sort of way, yes," you replied with a smirk. "Even if the guy is annoying, I also feel bad for him if that's how he lives. Imagine having such a complex that you think being ugly is the worst thing in the world. I'm not a prize, but your average ugly person probably hates themselves way less than he does when he's alone." You felt a smile creep up on your face. "Wouldn't it be the dumbest and most delicious bit of irony if he hated Monsters so much because they don't hide their ugliness as well as he does? Like a Japanese Gaston."

Your friend pouted. "Aww...you're just making me love him even more. Maybe he just needs someone to see the real him and help him love the real him. Someone who's an armchair psychologist like you!

"And now, the Armchair Psychologist is noting that we've moved to the classic I Can Fix Him route. My non-professional advice is to just ogle him with detachment and not think too much, lest you get too depressed and ruin the relationship between fan and idol-cop on a pedestal. No guy is worth it, especially him." You suddenly hear a chorus of screaming around you that makes you wince. "Goddammit! He isn't worth this tinnitus either!"

Your friend giddily jumped up and down to get a better look at Amai Mask waving as the line started to move again. "I beg to differ," she sang. "Ooh, he put his hair up in a little man-bun!"

Amai Mask took the mint-infused water bottle that an assistant had given him with a smile; once they'd turned around to scurry to the next task, he dropped it immediately and sipped it. Just two more hours and he could go home and rest for a bit before meeting with his management crew to plan everything for next month: tours, photoshoots, a briefing with the other Top-Ranked Heroes at the Association...

He sighed and dabbed at the bit of sweat forming on his brow with his neck towel. He loved pleasing his fans with an appearance, but even he needed to rest sometimes.

"Five minutes," his manager warned. "You need anything before you head back out there? I can push it back if you want hair and makeup to pop in."

Amai shook his head and set down the water bottle to put his hair up into a loose bun, carefully letting a few pieces fall to frame his cheekbones. "No, just this," he replied, frowning at his manager. "You should know by now that I don't like that level of prep for autograph signings. They want something intimate and personal, something casual." He applied a bit of tinted lip balm to complete the look. "This should be perfect."

"When are you not?" His manager smirked and checked his watch. "See you out there."

Amai heard him walk off and leaned against the barrier separating the queue from the behind-the-scenes area, closing his eyes. For a man as busy as him, these brief little moments during the day were the closest he got to relax when he had a tight schedule. Plus, the chatter of people made for a nice background noise.

"I've streamed his new album, like, a zillion times--"

"Did you see the pics of him from that charity gala? His suit was so--"

"Is it too much if I ask him to sign my dakimakura?"

He covered his mouth to hide how his face crinkled as he snorted. That wasn't even the weirdest thing he'd signed this month from a fan.

"I just don't get the appeal of a guy who's so dedicated to a facade that he named himself after it."

He raised an eyebrow. Someone like that was at one of his events? Normally he heard these things from random drama videos or read them online. The more vitriolic, the funnier it was to see how much they seethed over his success and talent. Hearing it in person wasn't that rare, but it was a small surprise; normally they didn't pay for his concert tickets.

He heard a woman next to them speak up in his defense, obviously a fan. Ah, he understood it now--the first voice was someone dragged here by a friend. He tried to imagine what the two of them looked like: the fan dressed in a concert t-shirt, maybe some merch as accessories, and the cynic in drab shapeless clothing, maybe a shirt depicting a musician they thought was sooo much deeper than his music. A wardrobe that came out of thrift stores and secondhand shops, complete with an imaginary pat on the back for being oh-so ethical in their nonexistent fashion.

The more they talked though, the more he was dragged out of his little 5-minute meditation. The background noise of the others melted away as he found himself focusing on what these two were saying. It was annoying, but nothing he hadn't heard before from his critics.

"He just seems so hollow, you know? I almost feel bad for him."

His eyes shot open. Suddenly he found himself staring at the mirror he'd just used to put his hair up. Every other jab stung, but just barely. Why was he even listening to this nobody? They were pretending to feel bad for him, just as hypocritical as they said he was. He took another sip of water and massaged his temples when he noticed he was narrowing his eyes into near-slits in the mirror. Shit, he didn't want to look wrinkled and stressed during the signing. He had some eye cream in his bag; he just needs to ignore them, dab this on, and relax for the rest of his--

"He's so stuck inside that he can never express any genuine emotion that doesn't look good."

The hand that was reaching for his bag's zipper froze. He bit his tongue and felt a pulsing in his temples. Shit. SHIT. If he felt that, then that meant--

He willed himself to look into the mirror and fought the urge to vomit as he saw a small vein starting to rise next to his left eyebrow. This stupid, ignorant bitch was actually getting to him. Why? Why? He can just ignore them.

"I also feel bad for him if that's how he lives. Imagine having such a complex that you think being ugly is the worst thing in the world. I'm not a prize, but your average ugly person probably hates themselves way less than he does when he's alone."

He had to clench his fists to keep from punching through the barrier and crushing their skull to shut them up. Someone like this had NO right to feel pity for HIM. No shit, they weren't a prize. Being ugly on the outside and inside, and that smugness, that audacity to pretend they feel bad for him--HIM, their better in every possible way?

"Wouldn't it be the dumbest and most delicious bit of irony if he hated Monsters so much because they don't hide their ugliness as well as he does?"

His hands tightened to the point that he felt like his bones were about to pop through his skin. The pulsing in his temples was unbearable, but he couldn't bear to look in the mirror to see how bad the vein had gotten. He had to get away from them. He had to shut them out, to be better and ignore them. He took another swig of his drink and headed back to where he'd left the signing table, massaging his temples with a bit of medicated cold-pressed cream. Soon he felt the pulsing subside, and after a few minutes of breathing, he was back to normal.

He came out again and felt a wave of comfort as he heard his fans screaming for him. This was his comfort zone, exactly where he was supposed to be. He was in his element. That little worm was in his world, and while he had to fight the urge to scan the crowd for them, he suppressed a chuckle at the thought of them feeling so out of place and uncomfortable among the throngs of screeching fans surrounding them.

"Thank you for waiting," he said with a warm smile. "Sorry for the long break, but I can't wait to meet the rest of you all!"

Another round of screams rang out as he settled into his chair and chatted mindless pleasantries and feigned intimacy with the fans at the front of the line, signing things so quickly and expertly as if his hand had a mind of its own. As the line progressed, he tried to listen for the voices of that particular duo to see if his image of that nobody were accurate.

When he spied a woman in a t-shirt from last year's concert standing next to a more subdued one in a flavorless top and jacket, he knew he'd found them. Once they finally reached the front of the line, he made sure to give the fan a sweet smile and take their hand as they handed him a film poster with shaking fingers. "Thank you so much for coming," he said kindly. "Ooh, this poster takes me back. I had a lot of fun filming this one. What's your name?"

"You touched my wrist," the fan whispered. She shook her head. "I mean, uh, that's not my name. Not Wrist. It's, um...oh God, uh--"

"Shizuka," the Cynic interjected. "Her name is Shizuka."

The fan nodded eagerly. "Yep! That's it."

Amai Mask smiled and signed the poster. "So, did you enjoy the concert, Shizuka?"

"Ohmygod-you-said-my-name--I, um, yes! I went to one last year but this set had all my favorite songs, and it was just so...Wow! You're a natural onstage, like...a real showman, you know?"

"People say that a lot," he replied with a hint of feigned humility. "I'm just grateful that what I'm good at coincides with my job. I love performing for everyone, especially fans like you that tell me how you enjoyed it."

The Cynic struggled to roll her eyes as her friend fawned over him. He turned his gaze to them and smiled, holding his pen up. "Did you have something for me too, Miss...?"

"____. And no thanks," she replied awkwardly. "I just came with her since she won an extra ticket. But like she said, you're a uh...real showman." She tried to sound somewhat enthused, but she wasn't as good an actor as he was. "You must have down a couple litres of water in between songs with everything you do up there. I was exhausted just watching you do your thing up there!"

More false concern and acting like she's so cool and detached. He let out a small chuckle. "I like to think I get energy from my fans, but the water and electrolyte drinks in between sets help too." His golden eyes shone strangely for a moment. "I do feel bad that you came all this way and waited in line just to walk away with nothing special, though."

He stood up and to the delighted and surprised screams of the crowd (and Shizuka), he took out his phone and handed it to his assistant before putting an arm over each of the duo while he posed in the middle with a dazzling smile. The assistant snapped several pictures and immediately chose the best looking ones to post to Amai Mask's promotional account for his concert tour. "Once you see this online, could you comment on the post and let me know you saw it? That way I'll know your usernames!"

Shizuka nodded furiously, trying not to cry too hard from joy as she felt Amai Mask's hand on her shoulder and imagined how perfect they would look in a picture together side-by-side. ____ felt Amai Mask tilt his head and whisper something into her ear that made her blood run cold.

"Thanks for coming, Armchair Psychologist."

#.opm #yandere opm #.amai mask #yandere amai mask #fem darling #.myshit

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intheholler · 2 months

Note

Little note about being queer in the south (and how sometimes you mess up, but life sorts if self out anyways)

I remember her hands. Clammy and soft, like sourdough left out too long, she took mine in hers, and I think drinking sour milk woulda’ turned my stomach less. God, I loved her. I loved her the way all 13 year olds with hearts too torn up for their age love somebody. That tender, living thing that aches and gapes. That jagged, bloody wound. My shakin’ hands made still, y’all when I say she took my hands, I mean I don’t think she ever gave them back. I went to my therapists office, beaming. And god, did my Bible-beating therapist beat that beaming outta me. You know, at thirteen I didn’t know what I know now, but hear me on this if nothin’ else: Love ain’t a sin. Ever. It is not dirty, or wrong, or ugly- by its very nature it can’t be. It is guiltless and joyous, true and sacred. Holy, even, if you believe in such things. But I was thirteen and scared, so I broke it off shortly after. I regret it, sure. And I’m angry about the injustice of it all. And I look back at that moment more often than I care to admit. And, god, how I envy Orpheus. He looked back too, but at least Eurydice knew she was loved before the end. I guess she knows it even after the end, too. So, because I never got to say it, Lauren, honey, you were loved by me. Even if it was a clumsy, stumbling love. I loved you with all my heart, and it wasn’t the best, but it was mine. It was ours. The fact that I got to love you at all has spoiled me beyond what I deserve. And If I love any better now, it’s because I loved you then. So, Lauren, honey, thank you. Thank you for taking my hand.

- Bird

(i want to publish this without comment as not to distract from this poignant and heart-wrenching telling, because holy shit. but i can't help myself but to at least tell you i sat here with my mouth open and real life tears in my eyes for a long minute after reading this, stunned and deeply, deeply moved. i bet she knew. i bet she did. thank you so so much for sharing this, bird)

#asks #holy shit my heart #fav #queer in the south

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florwal · 4 months

Note

girl could you pls give us a for rent pack review cause im getting so many conflicting reviews😭 we need a real one to help us out!

i haven’t had much free time to play around with it but i can definitely give my opinion on what i’ve experienced so far!

world:

disappointing tbh. for a world that’s finally not super american, they could’ve done a lot more. it feels lazy.

some of the debug buildings are cool, and the world IS pretty but it just gets meh after a while. it doesn’t matter how good something looks, if there’s nothing to do what’s the point? BORINGGG. this is the case with pretty much any new world atp. lots of set dressing but not much to actually do.

i’m so sick of the new worlds having debug plants mostly from older packs like just give me more damn plants PLEASE.

hardly any npcs walk around so it feels very dead. the night market had like 1 sim show up. half of the stalls are decorative.

too many rabbit holes but the beaches are nice.

waaaaay too fucking small. the fact that there’s only 2 neighborhoods and the biggest lot is a 40x30??? bitch what???? for an ep that’s meant to have a lot of apartments… u can’t really build big places in the new world at all. yeah, the new lot type works in any world BUT it’s still an odd choice to me.

build/buy:

LOVE that there’s so many gross/dirty things. i really like the nasty wall decals and the fact that most objects have swatches that look old and used.

super happy about the functional water heaters, radiators, and electrical things.

build/buy doesn’t feel super cohesive to me.

cas:

haven’t gone through all the items much. don’t have much to say about it yet.

wish there was an aspiration to be a slumlord

gameplay:

i’m obsessed with the chance of infestations 🪳🩷 and i really like the mold lot trait. there’s a lot of references to tlou and the mold spreads very quick and gets super chaotic, but i enjoy it.

the nosy trait is fun and the cringe trait is goofy.

bugs/glitches:

a fucking NIGHTMARE for me. i’ve wanted to cry and rip my hair out several times.

there are ways around this, but residential rentals can make everything u placed off lot with tool mod get deleted. i had to go back to an older version of my save to get them back. i’m in the middle of updating my save for christmas and want to get it out asap and this set me back a lot so i’m PISSED!!!!

lot and unit names don’t stick. they revert back to a generic name generated by the game. same thing with editing the rent $ amount and lease days. they all get set back to a game generated one. one of my units also changed to 4 million simoleons and another one became a -negative number and trying to change it back fixed nothing.

the new lot type lags so fucking much it’s basically unplayable and u have to switch back to the regular residential, build and decorate whatever, and then switch to residential rental to set which rooms u want to be units as a last step. some people said repairing the game fixes the lag, but it didn’t fix anything for me. only the new lot type is lagging and freezing for me.

the new landlord sim i made didn’t make any money at all? he owns multiple properties.

overall:

i’m glad there’s south east asian representation but ea could’ve done a lot more.

i would never pay $40 for an expansion pack that feels like a game pack and has a lot of issues. please 🏴‍☠️ that shit if u get it.

if ur mostly just a builder or really want apartments and a new world, get it now. if u don’t, ur not missing that much imo. u can always wait for a sale or for bug fixes (if we ever get any lmfao look at mws and dine out)

#haven’t gone through cas much #i’ll definitely talk more about it as i play around #asks

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viaoverthemoon · 9 months

Note

First of all, hi! <3 just want to say keep up the great work with your writing I enjoy it sm!!

so I saw this edit and I absolutely CANNOT get it out of my mind if Leon. It’s a mod of him as a cowboy AND ITS MAKING ME FERAL. I haven’t seen anyone really write about of his mods (that he looks so fine in 😖)… if I could, could I request a little smut with this mod of Leon 😇😇

(ALSO HERE IS THE EDIT LINK XOXO)

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8JwXJ5V/

(And another to bless your eyes)

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8JwPCfp/

To be honest, this is just the request I needed.

Sorry this took so long! Hope you like it! <3

Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's your birthday and Leon gives you a lil surprise <3

Tw: SMUT, p in v sex, protected sex, hair pulling, choking, taunting, dirty talk, this shit kinda kinky, odd ending

18+!! NSFW!! MDNI!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!!

Enjoy! <3

❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁

"Shit-... I told him we should've gotten that new lock-"

After a bit of fighting with the lock of the door, the key finally turns.

You groan in relief, unlocking the front door and stumbling into your home. You can't wait to change into relaxing clothes, curl up on your couch with your laptop, and just enjoy the rest of your night.

Of course, your boss called and demanded you come in on your birthday, of all days.

You worked from morning to late evening, leaving you tired and sluggish when you got home.

Your boyfriend Leon shouldn't be home for a few more hours, but you must not be completely up to date with his schedule because when you look around your shared home, you see the lights are on.

Slipping off your shoes, you call out for him. "Baby? Are you home?"

You shrug off your jacket and are met with silence until the sound of a door opening catches your attention.

Just down the hallway, the door to your bedroom opens, and out comes Leon.

Your jaw drops.

Rather than his usual home attire of just sweatpants, or his after-work attire of a tight shirt and thick work pants, he steps out of the room in some kind of cowboy cosplay.

He wears a long-sleeved black dress shirt, wrangler jeans held up on his hips by a thick brown belt that bobs left and right from each step he takes. A black cowboy hat with a gold rim rests on his head as he walks towards you with his hands on his hips.

You blink once. Twice. Before busting out in a laugh.

Leon's cheeks turn a tomato shade of red, the tips of his ears doing the same. "Don't laugh! I wasn't expecting you to be home so soon..."

You smile at him, putting your jacket on a nearby chair and walking the rest of the distance to him. "I'm not laughing at you! It's just-... the situation?"

You giggle, eyes wandering over his clothing. "Don't tell me this is all for me?"

Leon sniffs, getting back into character, and crosses his arms over his chest. "Of course it is, sweetheart." He towers over you. "Wouldn't want the birthday girl to go without a gift, right?"

You try not fold under his domineering stance and teasing smirk. His southern accent is terrible and overdone, yet somehow alluring and deep.

His little outfit isn't perfect, but it's convincing enough. You would know, seeing as half of your family came from deep in the south. Which is why, you suppose, he would dress up like this for your birthday.

You step forward, your chest touching his, and run a finger along his jaw. "Ah, how thoughtful, my love. So what? You're trying to seduce me with a cowboy imitation?"

His grin widens. "Oh, I'm more than an imitation sweetheart," His hands come back down to rest on his hips. "I'm the real deal, darlin'."

"Mhm," Your finger trails down his chest. "Then I'm sure you know what this means, sweetheart."

Before he can say anything else, your hand snatches his hat off of his head. He watches, wide eyed, as you place the hat on your own head.

You flick the tip of the hat to look at him, eyes filled with lust and mischief.

"Say, cowboy. Per the birthday girl's request, you fancy taking her for a ride?"

There's a pause of silence between the two of you, the only sound being Leon's heavy breaths.

"I reckon I do."

❁

The air is steamy and thick, causing a sheen of sweat to spread over your body.

Leon's hands have a bruising grip on your hips as he watches you bounce on his cock.

You pause your ministrations, setting a slow grind to catch your breath.

The hat tilts and you reach a hand up to steady it again, placing the other hand on Leon's chest. He seems to be getting impatient, rolling his hips up to meet yours.

You moan at the feeling, hips stuttering for a moment as you look down at him.

He smirks. "What is it, sweetheart?" He pushes impossibly deeper inside of you, your jaw dropping open. "Getting tired?"

You ignore his taunting, smiling sweetly at him as you rise all the way up to his tip, then slam back down. He gasps and throws his head back. "Oh... Sorry baby. Was that too much?"

The tension is high, you rocking up and down on Leon's red angry cock, and him thrusting his hips up to meet yours every time.

The feeling has your release drawing near. You keep a hand on the hat, throwing your head back as you pant and groan in effort.

Your thighs burn and your legs shake, but you're determined to put him in his place. You grin tiredly when you feel his thrusts getting sloppy and desperate.

You continue your pace and give him a taunting smile. "Don't- Don't tell me this is all you can t-take, darlin'?"

You notice something in his gaze snap a second too late before his hand snaps up, deliciously wrapping around your throat.

Your hips falter for just a second, but Leon makes up for the lack of speed.

His pace turns brutal, the hand around your throat tightening so much it nearly cuts off all of your oxygen. You heave a silent scream, nails scratching Leon's chest.

"I'm sorry hun, you were saying?" He knows what he's doing, smirking at you in a way that makes your pussy clench. His hand tightens again, completely taking away your air and giving you that euphoric feeling.

You arch your back, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You can almost taste your orgasm, it being so close you're seconds away from exploding.

His hand loosens, gifting you air and making you whine, hips rutting desperately against his. He takes the hat from your head and puts it on his own before yanking your head back by your hair. He runs his lips along the column of your throat.

"I think the birthday girl needs a reminder of who she belongs to... I want my name to be the only word on your tongue when you cum. Understand?"

You whimper and nod your head, too desperate to be bratty right now.

Leon smirks, patting your cheek. He then reaches a hand between the two of you and rubs circles on your clit.

You cry out, nails embedding into his shoulders. You place your head in the crook of his neck, rolling your hips to deepen the feeling of his cock.

It does just that, reaching somewhere so deep that it triggers your release.

You cry out his name so many times that your throat goes raw.

There's a pause of silence once your high dies down, the only sound being yours and his panting. After a moment he lifts you, against your wishes it would seem if your whine was anything to go by, and pulls out.

He lays you on the bed before taking off the filled condom. He tosses it, cleans you, brings water for the both of you, and turns down the lights.

Later, you both lay in bed, cuddling in silence...

"So, I totally won that right-?"

"Leon, oh my gosh, we were just having sex-"

"Don't change the subject. Just admit you're a loser-"

"Go the fuck to sleep."

.....

"Happy Birthday... Darlin'-"

"Goodnight, Leon."

.....

"Thank you."

❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁

I thought the ending would be funny & cute but idk ;-;

Y'all pls, its 12:20am and my ass hurts bc I just got my hair done wtf. I've been sitting in this chair since 10am.

Anywaysss, lemme know what you think!! <3

Hope you enjoyed!!

Requests are open! <3

#viaoverthemoon #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #re4 leon #leon s kennedy smut #re4 #smut #resident evil leon #reader insert #leon smut #leon s kennedy #resident evil x reader #leon re4

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ragingbookdragon · 3 months

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And I'll Be An Old Troubadour, When I'm Gone

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: 1K Warnings: None

Author's Note: Dis my favorite GS song <3 fits my OC perfectly <3 -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Ghost doesn’t typically get out of the country if he can help it when he’s on leave. Rarely does he even get to Scotland to see Soap’s family. That’s about it, but somehow, Troubadour convinces him to fly out to the States and down south to see him for the month they’ve been given. It does take quite a bit of convincing, and even a great home cooked dinner and somehow wining and dining Ghost’s pants off, but he does.

Troubadour has a fun time showing him around the town he grew up in, and even takes him to the high school he played football in. He grins widely as he sees his trophy in the case and a cheering team photo behind it. He tells him stories about getting drunk by a bonfire and almost burning all the little hair he had on his chest when he decided to jump over it and almost fell face first instead. Tells him about how he managed to whoop a rival school’s tail in a street fight in a parking lot when he was a senior. Talks on and on about how he used to spend every summer on a tube floating down the river with a fishing pole in one hand, a beer in the other, and a can of bait between his knees. Ghost’s eyes don’t give it away, but his smile is evident beneath the black face mask he wears around the town.

He drives Ghost around town, takes him to the local diner and shows him what a real country fried steak tastes like, and by the time they’re done with apple pie and coffee, Ghost is literally bursting at the seams and ready to fall over in the booth while Troubadour laughs at him. He looks good when he laughs. Like he isn’t trying to look out for everyone like Price always is. Troubadour’s good like that; the big brother they never had, the one they can go to for anything, no matter how foolish or big. He sometimes thinks Troubadour should retire and do something better with his life. Something less risky. But he knows that Troubadour is a good man, wants to do the right thing, even if he gets his hands dirty. He wants to make a difference. Wants to be the man he deserved to look up to as a young man instead of the shit father he did have. Sometimes Ghost wishes he could be a good man like Troubadour.

Troubadour tells him the cabin he’s rented is about two and a half hours out of the town and Ghost settles into the passenger seat of the 2021 Dodge RAM 1500, comfortable and content to close his eyes for a couple hours. He watches the end of the sun fall behind the mountains and watches the stars come out above the truck. So deep in his own mind that he doesn’t realize Troubadour’s hand is on his thigh until he feels his lover’s fingers gently pressing and thumbing against the roughness of his jeans. Troubadour likes to touch. He’s always holding Ghost’s hand, his thigh, his chin on the soldier’s shoulder, toes brushing his calf under the covers.

He looks over inconspicuously, taking in the side profile of the man he’s come to love so deeply, of something that came from such an admiration and respect. Ghost often wonders if Simon Riley would be the man Troubadour was if he hadn’t let his past warp him so greatly. The man’s hands are strong, firm, steady, the wheel gripped in one as he silently and masterfully turns the wheel around a winding curve when the radio plays the next song and he sees the corner of Troubadour’s mouth turn up and he starts to hum the cords of the beginning, and Ghost is almost shocked at the smooth voice that comes out of the man, like bourbon running in his veins as he sings.

Sometimes I feel like Jesse James, still tryin’ to make a name. Knowing nothing’s gonna change what I am. I was a young troubadour, when I rode in on a song. I’ll be an old troubadour, when I’m gone.

It makes something in Simon’s chest tighten painfully. Their lives are lived in an hourglass that’s running out of sand fast. Every moment is never guaranteed, no tomorrow ever promised, but the longer he spends with Troubadour, the more he hears the life he wants to be living instead. He wants to wake up at five AM for god knows whatever reason, and sit on the porch in matching rocking chairs drinking their coffee. He wants to sit on the back porch in the swing and drink bourbon as they watch the fireflies in the summer and talk about the change in football and wonder if the season will be better than last year’s. He wants to spend every Sunday going to a café where they complain about the same breakfast they always get but still eat it and can’t wait for the next time. He wants to sit on the steps of their home in the early winter months, and watch Troubadour chop wood and bitch that he could chip in instead of ogling him like a pervert but still take his sweaty shirt off anyway.

Simon begins to admit the one thing he’s always been afraid of, and that’s the fact that he actually wants to live long enough to die an old man next to the old man he’s come to love.

He doesn’t even realize his eyes have begun to sting until he blinks rapidly and takes a deep breath, looking over at Troubadour as the man simply sings away without a care in the world other than the fact one of his biggest bragging rights is, “George Strait wrote a song about me. I mean, it’s obviously about me.”

Simon feels the world collide with everything he’s ever felt and known when Troubadour looks over as if called out to him and gives him a pearly white smile.

I was a young troubadour, when I rode in on a song, and I’ll be an old troubadour when I’m gone.

Troubadour picks up his hand, kisses the back of Simon’s, an ever-present and firm promise to love him for all he’s worth for as long as he has and even into the next life and all eternity.

I’ll be an old troubadour, when I’m gone.

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rowniebow · 11 months

Text

we were here | steve harrington x male!reader

summary: you and steve are good friends and someone feels it's about time to take it to the next level.

pairings: steve harrington x male!reader

cw: bickering, fluff

word count: 2.6k+

an: steve harrington is bisexual and it's definitely cannon! (/s, i wish) if you read/watched all the bright places...you get it

masterlist

⭒

"dude, we're slinging it right now!" robin called out.

"we're totally slinging it." you echoed.

"we're slinging so hard."

"we're so slingin' good at slinging."

"will you two please shut up?" steve interjected.

silence came between you and robin for only a moment as you shared a glance with two sets of pursed lips.

"but we're slinging so hard right now, steve!"

"we couldn't be slinging any harder!"

steve groaned from the back room. "you guys make taking my break like hell!"

"that's the goal, dingus."

steve stomped up to the door to look out at us from the back room. "no one is even here! you're not slinging shit!"

your scooper seemed to gather ice cream in itself on it's own. you placed your scoop into a cone and took a bite that stuck needles into your teeth and all the way up your skull.

"i slung that."

"oh, you slung it so well!" robin cheered for you while steve groaned again.

⭒⭒

"you're really slacking with the ladies, man." you taunted with a smile as you watched claire robbins walk away with a grimace on her face.

"yeah, well i don't see you pulling any." steve groaned.

"oh, i could if i wanted!" your eyes danced as you found an opportunity to play your favorite game: teasing steve harrington.

"prove it."

"i will!"

⭒⭒⭒

"i love that necklace, angela! where'd you get it?" you spoke over the counter to the blonde you had no real interest in.

"it's sick how he can just ... look at her like that." steve's narrowed eyes watched your laughing back. how you could conjure a sparkle in your eye like that was baffling.

"what, are you jealous, harrington?" roving smiled at the glaring man next to her.

"jealous of what?" the venom in his voice told robin all that she needed to know.

"jealous that he can charm any girl in a mile radius and you can't even get one? or that he's not looking at you like that?"

"shut up." steve pouted his way into the back room of the ice cream shop.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

robin kept a count on her whiteboard.

steve: 0

you: 9

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"what's up, lover boy?" you cheesed at steve as you climbed in his car through the window. when you would use the door like a sane person - he'd never know.

"w-watch the seats!" he groaned watching your dirty shoes leave marks on the leather. "i just cleaned this car."

"sorry!" you mindlessly apologized as you pulled a map out of your bag and unfolded it. several bright sticky notes that you had plastered on to it fell on to the floor of the car.

"where are we going?"

"you'll see when we get there!"

"it better not be like the gas station from last time. shit was creepier than the monster dogs."

"it'll be fun for me, at least."

"yeah, you said that about the gas station..." steve mumbled to himself seeing you were too entranced by your map of excitement.

he noticed that your collection of road trips around indiana (that you were keeping for you two to travel to had grown from not just a green (the scary gas station), yellow (a river in south indiana that you wanted to show him), and blue (wherever you two were to be headed today) route. now, various shades of reds, purples, pinks and browns littered the page.

"what are those new ones?" he asked, his eyes trailing from the road to you.

"you'll see when we go! don't get ahead of yourself." you folded the map onto your lap and pulled out one of the many cassette tapes from you bag and popped it into the car radio.

'oh! darling' began humming from the speakers. steve rolled his eyes. you had abbey road on repeat for far too long. he didn't need to know every single word in the album.

though, he didn't hesitate to start screaming along with you and your air guitar by the time the third section of the song came along, of course.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

steve's car couldn't seem to fight off the summer heat. sweat dripped down both of your foreheads. the windows rolled down allowed the blue sky and fluffy clouds to leak in and fill your noses with hot humidity. your shirt clung to you and constricted your breathing.

"there it is!" you shouted, nearly falling out of the window after steve slammed on his breaks.

a green sign with white print read 'hoosier hill - indiana's highest point - elev. 1257'.'

"pull over, pull over!"

"oh, you gotta be shitting me," steve grumbled under his breath. you heard it very loud, of course. you always heard him loudly. you were also always very aware that his complaining meant next to nothing when it came to you, though.

you climbed out of the car before steve could turn the car off, "c'mon, steve!" you practically whined for him.

"is this really it?" he questioned as if he were going to leave you there if you said yes.

"no, there's stuff up there!" you pointed up a hill amidst the trees and green bushes to a faded trail that looked as if it were going to blow away in the summer breeze.

steve huffed, preparing himself for the short walk that would feel like miles in the heat. you didn't take a second to wait for him, though. you ran up the hill even with the heat filling your lungs and making them as small as could be.

steve watched your frame stop. "this is it!" you called to him.

he shrugged after arriving next to you and catching his breath. "it's a little underwhelming but at least it's not that gas station."

you both stared at a wooden sign that restated what the green sign said. steve plopped down onto a bench that sat on the same small plot as the wooden sign.

you looked at it for a moment more.

then ran down the hill and back to steve's car. he stuttered out a call for you, but found his attempts fruitless.

you returned a moment later, out of breath and more sweaty, but with your bag. you fished out a push pin with white fabric on it and a black marker.

you tossed the bag to steve, scribbling your name down on the fabric.

"the hell are you doin'?"

you scooted the pen over to him with the fabric, "write your name."

"what? no, what is this for-?"

"steve," you watched him with a look he knew all too well: 'just do it for me'.

he rolled his eyes and participated, "i swear to god, if this is going to put my name into a cult or something i'm never forgiving you."

you snatched the fabric and pen back and finished what you wanted to write, then went to pin the fabric to the wooden stick.

steve and y/n were here.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"you have to bring extra shoes," you scolded in through the window of his car. your backpack begged you to set it back down in his car but you needed to go home for the night.

"what the hell do i need extra shoes for?"

"you should bring some you don't care about,"

"i'm not bringing extra shoes, alright?"

"if you say so. you're going to regret it, though." you turned and began taking your steps toward the door.

"why would i regret it?" he called to your retreating figure.

"eight a.m, harrington! we need to go before work!"

steve watched your door shut.

"god-dammit!" he muttered to himself as he began driving home into the newly born night.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"we're going to milltown, you should probably get gas," you choked out while you climbed into the car. dirty feet all over the seats (once again).

"milltown? dude-,"

"no complaining! i'll pay for your gas if your going to have a hissy fit about it."

"maybe you should try driving for once."

"no thanks," you plugged a cassette in to the car radio, 'come on eileen" started playing from the middle of the song.

steve mindlessly nodded his head along to the songs, listening to your mindless humming.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"you know what? this one is actually kinda cool." steve admitted.

"right!"

you two stood admiring what looked to be several trees that had been covered in shoes with their laces tied so they hung off the branches.

you plopped down on to the grass. the cold morning dew seeped through your clothes and pinched your legs. you tugged your dirty reeboks that were too small off of your feet. "you brought extra shoes, right?"

steve let out an extended breath as he watched you tug a pair of converse out of your bag and pulled them onto your feet.

"i told you to bring some!"

"yeah, i know!" he rolled his eyes but sat next to you and pulled his own pair of reeboks off.

you both tied the laces of your pairs together, tugging to make sure they'd stay on with the rest of the hanging shoes.

and off they flew as you both tossed your pairs in the air together. the summer breeze carried the two pairs of reeboks onto the branches, shaking the tree and it's leaves and shoes.

"dude, you didn't get yours anywhere near mine. how will the people know that we came together?"

"'the people' wont give two shits about where our shoes are on the tree. they're all in that pile."

"i will care!"

"alright, well you can get a ladder and go move the shoes." steve said as he sat on the ground and leaned back onto the soft grass. "i will be right here whenever you're done with that."

you glanced from the lounging man with his eyes closed to still swinging shoes in the sky.

you decided it wouldn't matter in the long run, and at least he had done it with you despite having no extra shoes to wear (maybe it'd be nice if you offered yours to him but, also, maybe he should have just listened to you!).

you laid down next you him with your hands behind your head and stared up at fluffy white clouds that swam in the sea of blue above. the breeze moved the blades of grass to dance along your cheeks and neck. your hair danced with them.

you watched the clouds mold into their own shapes and pointed out different things you saw to steve:

"that one looks like a turtle!"

"that's a fucked up turtle."

"that one looks like a shark!"

"it looks like it's swimming after the turtle to eat it."

you both continued on like that for seemingly forever. the midday heat began to creep in and making it to work began to clog your mind but steve was in no rush, so you pushed the thoughts away.

"i gotta ask you for advice about something." steve began out of nowhere. he dressed his words in formal attire. "i've gotten really close to someone recently, like a lot closer than we've ever been before."

steve doesn't get serious with you (or anyone) often. so, of course, you listened with every fiber in you. you treated his concerns with upmost importance.

"and i've - i don't know. i've started to-to like this person. a lot. but, well, i don't even know if they'd feel the same way about me."

"that's never stopped you before," you smiled, glancing to the side to read his features.

"yeah, but this person is just... different."

"what do you mean?"

"well, for one, i can't even imagine what other people would think. my dad for sure. he'd kill me. but, i also just actually like this person. and like... care about them and our relationship, and what would happen if they didn't end up liking me, too."

"does it really matter what your dad thinks?"

"i mean, i don't really care. i just always imagined he'd be at my wedding and it would be pretty shitty if he wasn't there."

"you're already thinking about marriage with this person and you haven't even asked them out yet?"

"yeah, is that bad?"

"i think that just proves that it shouldn't matter what your dad thinks if you really are already thinking about marriage with them. since when does steve harrington think about marriage with a girl?"

"i-i mean, yeah! that the dream, you know?"

"really?"

"i'd love to have a bunch of little harrington's runnin' around."

"so what advice do you need from me? it sounds like you already know what you want, you just gotta get the balls to go get her."

"sure, sure. you're right. thank you."

"'course man," a nervous silence overwhelmed you. you could never tell if you said the right thing, especially with steve. he was so difficult to read.

"that one looks like a squirrel that can't get open an acorn," steve pointed to a cloud above with a smirk over his features as if he knew he just said the stupidest thing in the world.

"no it does not, you idiot,"

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

your name echoed from the street outside of your house that night. your eyebrows shuffled together in confusion as you scurried to your window to see what - or who - could be causing all that noise.

you peaked your head out to see steve harrington holding roses, 'i just called to say i love you' blasting through his car stereo from one of the cassette's you had given him.

you couldn't help but let a smile creep onto your face at how absolutely sweet he looked with his nervous feet and fingers tapping. his eyebrows were sewn together and his lips looked licked raw. he motioned for you to come down stairs and that's exactly what you did.

"what the hell are you doing?" you laughed as you ran out in your pajamas, sandals, and a sad excuse for a jacket.

"listen to me,"

"you are so lucky my parents aren't here right now, harrington, they'd kill you for being so loud!" you reached in his car and turned the volume down to a reasonable volume. the smile never left your face, though.

steve spoke your name again, and grabbed your arm to turn you around. "listen, i-" his eyes searched your face for the words he wanted to say. he couldn't find them, though.

"i'm listening," you smiled, leaning against his car as stevie wonders continued to play.

he rolled his eyes (at himself) and found his answers away from your face. "i-i-i-i've just- i've been talking to robin a lot more lately and she's helped me understand that i-i, you know, i like you and i think you're really cool but i've never liked a guy before you, ya know? i don't know how to do any of this shit," he mumbled to himself. "here," he shoved the flowers into your hand.

the smile never left your face, "steve,"

he looked up at you. he hadn't realized how close he had come, practically trapping you against his car.

"is it okay if i kiss you?" you whispered into his ear.

his cheeks went as red as could be. you'd never seen him so flustered (or flustered at all, for that matter).

his mouth opened but no words came out. just an eager nod.

the hand that wasn't holding the roses found its way to his cheek and pulled him in to meet your lips. it was short and sweet, the smallest bite of chocolate. it drew steve in and let him know what he was in for in the coming future with you.

and steve was absolutely in love.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x male reader #male reader #gender neutral mc #gender neutral reader #bisexual steve harrington #steve #male mc #steve harrington x gender neutral reader #gn reader #x reader

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twst-drabbles · 3 months

Note

Bit nsfw but which yan twst boys would let me grope them? Just degrade them even more by treating them like an object I can touch any time I want.

Honestly, one could convince any number of them to let the you grope them if you're persistent and manipulative enough. Though, obviously some are more enthusiastic than others.

Such as Malleus and Rook, with Rook being that over-enthusiastic type while Malleus is more... coy? Pretending that he's doing you a favor while you grope him all over? You get the vibe. Adding to the coy vibes is Ruggie as well. He's a little shit that pretends you're the pervert when in reality, it's him. Nobody is stopping him from spitting out his shirt.

Anyways Rook. He's... yeah he's so enthusiastic about being groped that he does not care for who hears him. You can manhandle him all you want and he'll take it with gusto. You could ruin him and he would just pop back up no problem.

You can add Jade and Floyd in the enthusiastic category as well, though you should probably expect them to put up a fight. Not because they don't want to be groped but because they want that added bit of fun. You know, made to feel small and all that. Floyd does start talking dirty, though it's pretty much slurred by this point. And most of the dirty talking is aimed at himself. And Jade completely loses all of his composure. Gets a little fanatic and if you show any signs of pulling away, his mood full on swings a different direction and goes quiet in what seems like anger. And then he'll pop right back to his usual eerily polite self.

Selfish selfish eels.

Epel is also in there, though he's more demanding about it. Like, he will grab your hands to have you grope him if he's impatient enough. It's funny because he sees this as a manly move. It's not.

Sebek is... he's a little more resistant at first. In his infatuation, he wants to follow what should be the proper way of wooing someone, like the old fashioned fellow he is. Even if he goes about it in a real creepy way. And when that's pointed out, he'll be slammed with guilt. This guilt makes for a fine tool to use against him and grope him. It's inappropriate! He should not be letting this happen! But isn't this what he wanted all along?

You know the kind.

Azul is part of the same boat as Sebek. He wants to follow a set of rules, a formula that he can easily control in case things go south. Basically trying to tackle the matters of the heart in his usual business man way, with a little added spoilage because if doesn't give just a bit more, then he can't expect things to go his way. Groping him without warning will lead to him hissing for you to stop, but he doesn't take your hands off. He flushing, he's blushing, and he continues to take your hands.

Riddle would be fun as well, if only with how easy it is to get him to shut up. Gets caught up in his own bodily reactions way too easily. He will struggle though, because it's heavily overstimulating, but with enough insistence, he will turn away and just let it be. He's scared, angry, and enjoying this all at the same time. His teary eyes and frowning mouth will be so fun to see.

#admin #yandere

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ivyjupiterwrites · 23 days

Text

To add to my Roach bugging the ever loving hell outta Gaz chaos--

I don't really like South Park but Ive heard this audio on TikTok and since there's the usage of Kyle I just had to.

Roach steering away every starry eyed private who would try and ask him about Gaz. Remorsefully he would explain to them that unfortunately for them, he and Kyle were in a relationship.

To step the fuck off his terf.

That was his fucking man.

Resulting in Gaz being utterly confused that these ladies are so curt with him lately. Polite all the same, but they hurried away from him like they had some place to be. Like they meant business. It didn't feel right.

Cue Roach eventually cracking after who knows maybe weeks or possibly months? of convincing Gaz he's just maybe giving off an 'off vibe'. --whatever the hell that means, Gaz would sigh while rolling his eyes. The smartass bug was entirely no help sometimes.

"You told them we're together?" Absolutely gobsmacked and jaw on the floor, Gaz was nearly falling forward off his seat. He wanted to strangle the smugly smirking boy across from him. "Actual women were interested in me....and you..."

"I think you broke him." Price chortled as he stumbled across the scene, simply trying to grab something however upon seeing Gaz in such a state decided to investigate with a probing Dad remark.

"I'm sure if you told them I was just being a shithead they-"

"Be so fucking for real right now," Gaz silenced the all too many game playing sergeant. "You honestly think any of them are still going to be interested after your stunt!?" it was almost like Roach wanted him to die alone. Irritated and annoyed and alone.

"I mean if they're cool they will." Roach kicked Gaz's boot with his own, grimacing at his heavily frowning friend. "Homophobia isn't sexy. Bi boys are." When he was met with more silence, he turned to the all too quiet Captain. "right Sir."

"Love don't hate--appreciate." Raising a fist to shake slightly at Roach, he'd take it with how meaningfully Price was doing it.

"Why would you do this to me?" Continuing his lamenting and bitching, the incessant laughter which followed it from Roach answered the question wordlessly.

Roach was always up to some sort of heinous shit for the hell of it. Sometimes meaning he didn't think about the post repercussions and what that might mean. All in all he was attempting it all out of just the pure hell of it.

The shenanigans. The stories. The gags. The goofs.

Whether the rest of the team was about it or not.

He truly embodied younger brother energy. Roach would walk into a room, mess with each of them ever so slightly yet infuriatingly before boogeying on out. He would shadow box at their limbs, steal bits of their foods and plop himself on their laps. A true menace to all. Especially if they were a macho hypermasculine little baby.

Roach had zero problems treating men the exact same way they treated women, primarily one of the main reasons he was written up so often. 'bein fucking weird' was usually how it was phrased, however they wanted to call it, it made him smile wide each and every time. The other times being his practical gags.

"Listen, I didn't say it to all of'em."

"Word spreads, they all talk ya know."

"And do you think the smart ones worth sleeping with listen to the Barrack Bunnies I was loping stories to or?"

"I think the Lad might've just done you a favour?" Price, albeit confused a hell, was impressed. He just thought his sgt was about the tom foolery, he hadn't considered there may be a underlying positive.

"Yeah you can call it whatever you want to," Gaz wasn't buying the excuses, glaring over his shoulder as he left the room he narrowed his eyes on the bouncing bug of a boy. Roach was always just a little too pleased with himself. "I know when someone does me a dirty." and with that he departed from the room, mind swimming with ways to inconvenience him.

#gary roach sanderson #roach mw2 #roach cod #roach call of duty #gary sanderson #kyle gaz garrick #gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz cod #call of duty

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iluvtreyparker · 3 months

Text

Backstage

~you make a point to meet Trey after the DVDA concert~

*smut (awww)

For whatever reason, he was always on your mind. Trey fucking Parker. You hadn’t the slightest really why it was him, but he just had something special. Was it the way he flawlessly crafted comedy? How he made it so smooth it almost seemed easy, like it was something feasible for even you to produce. And you found yourself yearning to be like him, admittedly making failed attempts at his strengths, revealing to you just how special his mind really was. As if he wasn’t already causally and humbly genius, there was just something about his voice. It reeled you in. The tone, the cadence with which it flowed seamlessly from his lips, gracing the air with immaculate elocation. And when he sang, lord, to you it was like angels descending down from the heavens, donned in white with wings and halos, heavenly light raining down behind them as they came down on white fluffy clouds, caroling a continuous “Ahhh,” emanating sounds of holy glory. And the way in which he could weave humor between the lines of adept instrumentals of any style drove you mad. As a music student, you were impressed and intrigued by his diverse talent. But as a girl, you were turned on. You knew him and Matt had a silly little band together, as they wrote and recorded a song for their movie Orgazmo, as well as the song, What Would Brian Boitano Do, on the end credits from the South Park movie. That one drove you a little nuts to be honest. The fast pace, how hard it went, and especially the image in your mind when Trey sang “I’m gonna take off my pants, and I’m gonna make dirty love to you.” That one always elicited a giggle or a teehee.

Lo and behold, the holy grail was bestowed upon you this evening. DVDA in the lineup at a festival in your damn town. You had to go and oh god you wanted to get backstage. The thoughts started flooding in. What if I could get back there and get him alone with me. Is that possible? Is there anywhere to actually do that backstage? Maybe you could take him home. Or maybe he had a hotel room. There was no practical way you could get backstage, you thought. How did groupies ever even do that anyways? And then it dawned on you. While you went to school for music, on the side you worked for the school paper. Maybe there was some way you could act like you’re a real journalist to work your way back there. Something like that. Or maybe they’d see a little dweeb working for the school and think, “Oh how sweet, let’s let the poor thing do her little interview, yeah?” and they’d let you in out of pity because you’re such a dork. Highly likely. In the time leading up to the event you promised yourself you would devise a proper plan.

The day finally came about and you hadn’t given one serious thought as to what you might ask Trey in an interview, if an interview was even feasible. You know what you wanted to ask, “Are you free after this?” “What’s your favorite Cure song?” “How big is your dick?” “Favorite position?” “Grower?”

You almost completely doubted that you would even be able to make your way backstage, even with your so very official student journalist lanyard you had acquired from school. Student journalist, who really gives a shit? Like they’d let you backstage for that? “Yes, I am writing a piece for the school paper about the festival and I would love to be let backstage to interview, um, Trey, um, I mean DVDA, for it!” Yeah. That’s rich. As if.

You knew what you really wanted though, and maybe that was enough for you to will yourself backstage to meet Trey.

You wondered what he’d wear, how his stage presence would be. Something about a man getting into the music that he’s playing is just so attractive. Sigh, oh, Trey Parker.

The night rolled around and you donned what you considered to be the sexiest and edgiest bit of attire you could possibly muster from your closet, without looking like a total slut of course, you wanted to be just a little bit classy. You put in your earrings, and all your other accouterments like many bracelets and necklaces, you sighed and thought about Trey. You grabbed a quick snack from the kitchen and then downed a beer to ease the nerves. As much as you wanted to, you weren’t going to get totally blasted at this thing, just on the off chance your dreams came to fruition.

You arrived at the venue and you couldn’t wait, even if this didn’t work out you couldn’t believe he was real and right there and you would be seeing Trey Parker in action. You stood in the back with a drink waiting for whatever band was playing to reach the end of their set. They weren’t too bad though, you thought, maybe you’d enjoy them more if you weren’t so badly dying to see the next group. The band played their last song, the singer said thanks and goodbye and they were off the stage. You knew there would be time between the bands for getting everything set up. So, after standing around a bit, right about now had seemingly appeared to be the perfect time to quickly slip off to the bathroom, but unbeknownst to you however, it was the worst time to do so; just as you sat down you heard cheering and then speaking over the microphone. No fucking way. Your fucking timing, huh? You rushed with all the might physically possible and burst out the stall, tearing down everything in your path as you approached the crowd. You could just stand back here? No? You needed to be up front and in the action. But there he was. His lightish brown hair shining in the stage light, gripping the mic. Oh fuck. He wore a white baseball style jersey shirt and loose fitting adidas track pants, but good lord did he make it work. You came back to reality after getting lost in the trance of Trey Parker, and began pushing your way through the crowd with determination and no apology. Pushing through drunkenness and occasional clouds of weed smoke, you were getting so close to the front of the stage. Nothing felt real as you pushed on, but were immediately halted by the harsh reality of cold liquid landing on your chest.

“Shit!” You hear, “my fucking beer!”

Someone had spilled what felt like had to be their whole cup of beer all over your brand new tight, cute little crop top. Funnily enough, you weren’t wearing a bra and this altercation’s turnout only accentuated what you were packing on your chest. A bit embarrassing though, and annoying, and now you smelled like beer and were fully nipped up at the DVDA concert. Whatever, you ignored all this and continued the journey to the front. Maybe Trey likes girls with wet boobs?

You finally made it to the front and it was like the glory of the light of heaven shown down in a beam upon him. He had so much energy, bouncing around the stage, yelling and belting out silly little lines. And oh good god the way he grabbed the mic and sang into it. It was almost obscene the way he wrapped his hand around it. And his face when he sang. Sometimes he would close his eyes briefly, maybe coupled along with a scream. It’s like he knew what he was doing. Like he was doing all of it for you. The song ended and he paused a little bit, naturally though, about to go on announcing the next song and what it was about. But for a brief moment, time was stagnant and you stared up at him, wide eyed, awaiting his next move. And by the grace of god, for a fleeting second, you felt his eyes scan you, resting briefly on the sight of your wet chest, quickly followed by his eyes moving upward to meet yours. He smiled, and then went on talking about the upcoming song. Feeling his eyes on you nearly warmed up your entire body and you started feeling weak in the knees. You’re not keeling over though, you thought to yourself, not right now anyways. But then it struck you, “Holy shit?!?!” you said to yourself, “My wet ass tits?!?!?” Did Trey Parker just check you out? God bless the drunken fool who doused your tits in beer.

The rest of the concert nearly felt like a blur as you almost refused to believe what happened to have been a real interaction. Real or not, the show was coming to a close as they announced this would be their last song before Ween took the stage. Still in disbelief, you jumped and danced along and let go of everything. You wondered though if he had snuck any other glimpses of you throughout the night. You hadn’t noticed, but maybe he was sneaky?

The last song ended and your heart sank with the realization that, first of all, it was over, but also the moment you had been waiting for was quickly approaching and you had to put forth your shitty plan into action. First of all, you didn’t really know how to get backstage, though you did notice a back room door with a bouncer/security guard and thought maybe that was a safe bet. You made your way over and were met with intimidating authority and the feeling of your loss of words.

“Can’t go back there, sorry.”

“Oh, no, well it’s okay, see I’m writing a piece for the school paper about the fest and I wanted to interview some people. See,”

You flashed your shitty student badge, “I have this.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that really constitutes backstage access,” he said, “Sorry, you’re gonna have to move along.”

You protested, “Are you sure? I mean I really gotta write this thing, do I really look like that much of a hoodlum to you?”

“No, ma’am, just can’t let anyone back here if they’re not authorized.”

Just as you were planning your counter attack, the door swings open and none other than Trey Parker comes walking out. He notices the unfolding events and stops, looking at you and recognizing. He speaks:

“Oh hey! It’s wet shirt girl! What’re you doing over here?”

Oh my god??? Wet shirt girl?!!?!

“Haha… yeah… wet shirt girl…that’s me- oh, uh. I’m a… uh… journalist. Yeah.” You replied, trying not to seem like you are a crazy fan trying to break through the barricade. Even though that is exactly what was transpiring.

“Oh, okay I see. So is this guy giving you trouble?” He said jokingly.

You giggled and responded, trailing off at the end, “Well…”

“Well I was going to grab a drink, why don’t I get you one too? C’mon.” He motioned you the direction of the drink stand, proceeding to lead you in that direction by lightly placing his hand on the small of your back, and walking you that way. The two of you approached the stand.

“What do you like?” He asked.

“Oh just a plain old Miller Lite will do…”

“Beer girl, huh?”

“Yeah haha…” you giggled nervously.

He ordered your drinks and handed yours to you, “Here you go, beer girl.” He smiled.

He led you backstage where he brought you to a dressing room where the two of you chatted for a while and drank. At one point, things got quite flirty and he monitored for you to come sit in his lap. You sat down in his warm lap as he put a hand on your thigh, you felt his warmth and felt comfortable immediately. He lightly brushed the hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear. He then leaned in, putting his hand gently on your cheek, kissing you. You leaned in back, kissing him deeply, perching your hand on his chest. You felt him sigh into your mouth as he pulled away, still spinning slightly from the heat of the kiss. He looked at his watch, “Shit.” He said, “I actually have to go meet some people in a minute, fuck.” With this he kindly let you know he was getting up, and then proceeded to scramble for a pen and piece of paper. Upon finding them, he scribbled down an address and room number and handed the scrap of paper to you.

“This is where I’m staying tonight. If you wanna come by around like 1 that would be awesome. I’d really like to see you some more.”

You felt certain you must have been drooling as he said these words to you.

You didn’t want to sound too desperate, but god, you were desperate, you wanted him so badly.

“Sounds good! I’ll be there!” You smiled.

“Here, let me walk you to your car, they can wait a few minutes longer.” He said to you, putting his arm around you, leading you out. He walked you to your car and you said your goodbyes, promising to meet later.

You truly couldn't believe this had happened. With each moment, the closer it got to 1:00, the more your heart pounded. Should you change? Should you touch up your makeup? No… just stop thinking… get yourself together.

As the time approached, painstakingly, you had waited for each passing hour, yearning for his touch and to see him again.

You arrived at the hotel. It was a lot nicer than you expected. You didn’t really know what you expected though. You searched for the room number he had given you and finally arrived at the door. You took in a deep breath, held it, then knocked.

You waited a moment.

Nothing .

Your heart sank. Should you leave? Should you knock again?

You swallowed your pride, knowing how badly you wanted him, even if it embarrassed you, and you knocked one more time.

You waited.

Nothing.

You accepted the reality that this was all crazy and he wasn’t coming to the door, you began slowly sulking away down the hall when, holy shit, you heard a door open. You stopped in your tracks and turned around to see Trey popping his head out the door, “Hey!!” He said, you rushed back over to the door.

“Sorry,” he said, “I just got out of the shower..”

You looked at him, he was shirtless with just a towel wrapped around his waist, and hair still wet. You were already horny witnessing his slightly dampened bare chest.

“I can tell, haha…” you said.

“C’mon in!” He motioned you in, shutting the door behind you.

“Lemme get some clothes on real quick, here have a drink, there’s some stuff in the fridge.” He said as he grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom.

You grabbed a drink and sipped it anxiously as you briefly paced around the room before sitting on the edge of the bed.

Finally, after a few sips, he came out.

He wore an old battered and lived in Broncos t-shirt and a pair of track pants, similar to the ones you had seen him in tonight, but you could tell these were a different pair. His hair still slightly dampened, he scratched his head and spoke, “So…” he paused for a moment and then sat next to you on the edge of the bed. He was so close you could feel his body heat and smell the freshness of his recent shower.

“The show tonight was really great by the way…” You said, somewhat awkwardly, trying to fill up the space with anything to say.

“Yeah? Thanks. Y’knowI liked the show I saw too.” He said with a light laugh, nodding towards your boobs.

You blushed.

In that instance he pulled you in, his hand on your face, pressing his lips against yours. You kiss back, slipping in your tongue and working it around against his. As you kiss you feel his hand on your head, lightly grabbing your hair as he let out a grunty sigh. His other hand worked its way up your thigh and onto your waist, squeezing it a little, then pulling you in closer to him. Within this motion he led the two of you down, still kissing, to laying on the bed; smoothly and swiftly he moved you on top of him. As you mounted him, you felt the hardened length pushing against his pants. He let out a moan into your mouth as he began bucking his hips against you as you moved yourself along his hardening bulge. He pulled away for a moment and pulled off his shirt. You put your hands on his chest, feeling a light veil of sweat beginning to form, you ran your hands down until your fingers reached his waist band and you tugged at it lightly.

“You’re eager, aren’t you?” He said with a heavy breath.

“I just know what I want is all.” You told him with a smirk.

You dug your fingers deeper, pulling down his pants slowly, very quickly he took over and ripped them off with haste, throwing them off to the side. You sat up and off to the side as he did this, but within moments he had his hands on your shoulders, quickly moving your body back to the bed, pinning you down beneath him. With your wrists under his hands, he stared at your face for a moment before leaning in to kiss you, then moving his hands all about your body. He ran his hands up your torso and then pulled off your t-shirt swiftly and with the most ease you had ever seen. He leaned in and grabbed one of your tits and then put it in his mouth, sucking and licking lightly at it as his eyes wandered up to meet yours briefly. From there, he made his way down, kissing along your torso until he met with your skirt. He hovered above you and gave your pussy a rub under your skirt briefly as he breathed heavily, looking at you with lust in his eyes before unbuttoning and sliding them off along with your underwear. He eagerly tossed them to the side, letting them land wherever the hell they landed. He immediately spread your legs and dove in, gripping your thighs as he moved his tongue around you, licking everywhere in all the right places. Lord, he knew how to move his tongue. He went in circles along your clit, occasionally poking thru to the entrance, he continued this as he eventually brought his fingers up to you, teasing you lighting but then slowly entering as he maintained licking at your clit. This alone was enough to send you into shock it seemed. He began pumping in and out and curling his fingers up while inside you. He looked up at you and asked, “How’s that, baby? Do you like that?” He said this with a focused and furrowed brow, he was intent on making you feel good.

You could barely word a response and all you said was a jumble of moans and maybe something like an “uh huh”

“Yeah, you know it’s good,” he said with a smirk.

You reached out and began rubbing and stroking his cock through his boxers, feeling it get even harder with every second, marveling at the length. All you could do was keep stroking it through his boxers and imagine how it would spring out and how it would look when he took his boxers off… and how good it was going to feel inside of you…

Unable to take it any longer you blurted out with a pleading moan, “Fuck me please, Trey, I need you inside of me.”

“Oh you’re such a little slut, aren’t you, huh?” He said as he in that moment forced his fingers deeper, really hitting THAT spot, before he pulled out swiftly and you yearned immediately for the return of his touch. He pulled away and sat back, touching himself lightly as he asked, “You want this?”

“So badly,” you pouted.

He slid down his boxers, you watched wide eyed as his surprisingly above average cock slung out. He spit in his hand and gave his cock a few strokes before coming back down closer to you, beginning to line up his length with your entrance.

“I can see how badly you want it, baby.” He said breathily with a smirk, holding back from pushing in just yet, and it was driving you insane.

“I know you’re so ready for me right now…” he boasted, “But I like seeing you squirm waiting for me.” He said almost laughing at you, knowing he was killing you.

He leaned in a little, kissing you, as he began rubbing his tip on your clit and entrance, teasing you and feeling you shiver underneath him dying for him to go inside. Within an instance though, he himself couldn’t hold back any longer and he slid himself in slowly and carefully. You took in every inch, rolling back your eyes. He let out an “ahh” as he entered, pausing briefly once he was fully inside, and slowly he began thrusting. He started slow but began picking up the pace, however he made sure not to jackhammer you seeing as he was a master at the craft and knew what you would want. As he picked up, he leaned down, pressing his chest against yours, and burying his face in your neck, kissing you.

You moaned, loving it, but said, “Please… don’t leave a hickey…”

He broke the kisses for a fleeting moment, “I won’t” he responded, going immediately back to sucking at your sensitive neck.

You knew he was going to leave a hickey or two, and as much as you thought didn’t want him to, it still made you feel a little proud and turned on to know you’d be marked by him for the next few days to come.

He put his hands on each side of your waist, pulling you into him as he continued thrusting, moaning and grunting in pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so good…” he said with a concentrated visage, really laying into you.

“Oh fuck, Daddy.” You blurted out in the heat of the moment, immediately putting your hand over your mouth with embarrassment as it slipped out.

“Daddy, huh?” He grinned, “It’s okay, I think I like that, baby.”

“Do you want Daddy to fuck your brains out, hm?” He sneered.

“Mhmm,” you nodded. It’s all you could get out.

Immediately he lifted your legs onto his shoulders and began pounding deep inside you, deeper than earlier. He reached out, feeling one of your tits and he concentrated aggressively on pounding away at you. He continued this for a moment more before pulling out and then laying down, commanding you, “Get on top.”

You did as he said. You climbed on top of him, lifting up slightly and then lowering down slowly on top of him, letting him fill you up fully. You began riding,

“Fuck…” he moaned as you began picking up the pace, bouncing on top of him as he put his hands on your hips.

You could see and feel him getting closer and closer, as you were too. Before long he panted, “Shit… I’m getting close…”

“Yeah, babe?” You said, almost protesting, “I need you to make me cum.”

He pulled you down, locking lips with a fist full of your hair as he began bucking his hips to the perfect rhythm. He slid his hand down to your pussy and began rubbing your clit, sending you over the edge as he continued pounding. You were losing control with this new addition and you felt yourself getting closer as the room started blurring out in the moment.

“Trey, I think I’m gonna cum.” You moaned.

“Yeah?” He said as he kept working you, “Cum for daddy, baby.”

This sent you over the edge, which in turn got him even closer as well. You felt that feeling and gave in, you did as he had told you, you were cumming for Trey Parker, feeling everything crumble around you as you rode out the high on top of him.

“I wanna cum on your tits.” He said with need in his voice

“Fuck, do it.” You replied.

You lifted off of him as he moved you down on your back on the quickly. Urgently, he entered you for a few last pumped before he groaned and pulled out, grabbing his cock and pumping it as he hovered above you, letting loose all over your chest.

“Ahhh.. fuck…” he whined as he finished up cumming all over you.

“Shit...” He said as he flopped over next to you.

“Oh shit…” he said momentarily after he came back down to earth, realizing the mess he has made on you.

“Let me grab a towel.” He said, rolling off the bed and heading towards the bathroom.

He returned back and gently wiped you clean.

“Thanks,” you giggled.

“No problem, thanks for… Y'know…” he laughed a little, “Y’know…”

“Yeah…” you giggled as well, “Yeah I mean it was alright I suppose.”

“Alright??? Shiiiiiiiit, it was pretty awesome.”

You blushed.

“C’mere,” he said, grabbing you sweetly by the shoulder and pulling you down to the bed to spoon with him. Soon the two of you drifted off into sleep.

#trey parker #trey parker x reader #south park

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sn4pozu · 11 months

Text

my headcanons of Eddie Gluskin if he had a twitter :

he'd repost those RETVRN incel trad memes where its like a woman doing house chores & man doing job stuff

would get into arguments with a woman and subscribe to her onlyfans at the same time (gets mad when blocked)

tries to be professional and a know-it-all but also his entire likes tab is porn (he doesnt know it shows publicly)

calls someone a whore & drops a bible verse in the same thread arguing with them

idk if he'd be delighted with minion memes or viscerally hate them

USES DISNEY REACTION GIFS WITH NO SHAME , USES A CRYING STITCH GIF AT A DODO VIDEO OF A DOG DYING

If twitter bans his account mid argument he'd flip the fuck out and make 3 gmails & alts at the same hour

100% posts creepy comments under peoples post and gets upset if it gets hidden

flirts so much you'd think hes a bot but no he's just sending random women his number (does he care if they're married or not is completely dependant on his mood)

uses the nice guy card whenever shit starts going south

he gets doxxed he goes like "that's not me" (lies, is scared)

either that or he lashes out and start sending them death threats who knows

menace with the twitter Voice Note feature

not even a mutual KYS no hes going to write out his whole murder fantasy in a person's DMs and blocks them before they could respond

gets IP banned on twitter like, weekly, he just figures out VPN apps and finds a way to harrass people constantly

media tab is his breakfast and someones mutilated genitals, bi-weekly photo updates maybe

im not saying he would complain about hairloss but he would complain about hairloss

"i got declined by the pharmacist for asthma medication, fucking bitch *insert something mysogonistic*"

thinks bitcoin is stupid and not a real "manly job" so he dogs on them pretty horribly

thinks tech jobs are for NERDS and says it outloud whenever them NFT bros are commenting under his shit attacking him for calling them nerds

Cracked phone screen with blood in the cracks (he tried to clean it with soapy water on a towel but it just ruined the lcd now its forever stained yellow) ((free bluescreen eye protector mode ?)) (((also has to violently tap the home button because its already broken & that part of the screen died))) ((((has an odd smell))))

he wishes he'd have glasses for the phone screen but all he does is squint

would post dress updates though <3 maybe retweets sewing patterns and videos of old women knitting and go "my grandmother used to do that pattern, ❤️ Wow."

goes back to shitting on women

*posts black coffee with 2 fruitflies in it* "A Good Way To Start A Morning ☕"

posts half eaten food and the dirty plate and would be like "Delicious food today 😋 i almost forgot to pots." -- deletes & reposts because of the typo. PEOPLE CANNOT THINK HE'S WEAK.

His vest would 100% be posted on those gimmick accounts and gets picked on for it being crusty & grody 😔

DMs like multiple women at the same time and either gets immediately blocked or ghosted after a face reveal

he Has cried because of twitter comments before, never again......

has twitter warning threads made of him and has tried to draw a stupid fucking wojack on paper with pencil & pen because he doesnt know how to edit photos but he still wants to own the haters

posts gore to own the haters as well and then got mass reported to death when people found 0 similar images of the gore he posted

'A Thread On @/Eddie287367927 TW: Gore, Mutilation, Harassment, Transphobia, Misogyny'

probably had a youtube documentary made about his twitter acc and all the drama he got himself into (either by accident or for fun)

ok this idea kinda came up to me after i saw a trad meme come up on my tl and i just HAD to dump this all out somewhere

#eddie gluskin #outlast whistleblower #outlast #i love doing everything except study for exams #outlast fandom #i actually got an exam going on rn & idgaf

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elen-benfelen · 2 months

Text

welsh remus guide pt.4

Fourth Part

Welcome back, lads. It’s time for slang, swearing, exclamations and terms of endearment. Buckle up, this is a long one.

Just to get it out of the way, I will begin by stating that, whilst a very romantic and poetic language, Welsh is not what I would personally rely on for dirty talk.

I’m sure there’s folks out there using Welsh for such purposes, most of us however will cringe because it just doesn’t land in the same way as English dirty talk.

This might genuinely in part be because a huge part of the language’s preservation came from people learning Welsh at their local chapels and churches because you weren’t allowed to speak it in most schools at that point in time. But this is just me guessing.

On the flip side of this, if the goal is romance or a beautiful proclamation of love, Welsh is absolutely your best friend. It’s a very loving language, and not just platonically.

It is very common for older people to call you “bach” or “cariad”. Anyone can use these for anyone. Especially when comforting someone or being polite.

Bach - Small

Cariad - Love

This is done in both Welsh and English.

“Ti’n iawn, bach?” (Are you alright, bach?)

“Dere ‘mlaen*, cariad.” (C’mon, cariad)

*slang for ymlaen meaning “forward” and in a Carmarthenshire accent sounds like “mlân”

Many folks will also use “cariad” to refer to their partner.

“Fy nghariad.” (My love/My partner/etc)

South Walians (especially south west) might say:

Wajen/Wejen - Girlfriend

Sboner - Boyfriend

Your married partner can be more specifically called:

Priod - Marriage partner

With a wedding being a “priodas”.

Gwraig - Wife

Gŵr - Husband

Conclusion here is: Everyone is “cariad” and your romantic partner is “my cariad”.

The word “calon” meaning “heart” can be used in the same way.

“Shwd i ti, calon?” (How are you, calon?)

Personally, with “fy nghalon” (my heart) I would use that directly with my partner but not when talking about them with others.

So again, everyone is “calon”.

Now we get to the real funky bit of exclamations/swearing.

We don’t have a word for “fuck” we literally just say the English one and then spell it phonetically so that it’s “ffyc”.

It’s my favourite thing ever.

Cachu - Shit

Buwch - Cow

Ceri i grafu - Fuck off / Go to scratch

(Apologies for those who aren’t comfortable with what is considered blasphemy in some communities but these are common exclamations here)

Iesu Grist - Jesus Christ

Iesu Mawredd - Christ Almighty

Both “Iesu”and “Mawredd” can be said by themselves as well and are generally what I personally say when I’m tired, facing a problem or have hit my foor against something.

Alternatively, a little less Jesus focused is:

Bois bach

Mam fach

I uh….don’t know how to explain these ones. I really don’t, lads. Because the literal translations just don’t make sense.

“Little boys” and “Little mother”

We just, say them.

I say them a Lot. Again, same concept of being fed up, tired enough or in enough pain to just exclaim. It’s like saying “gosh” or “dear me” and such. Very common.

Now to return again to the more blasphemous ones. We reach one of my Mamgu’s favourites:

Jiw jiw nefi blw

Again….I don’t know where nefi blw comes from or if this is even the right spelling. My Mamgu (grandma) says it so often but she also doesn’t know what it means.

The “jiw jiw” can be said alone without the second part and sounds a bit like “jew jew” but is just a evolution of the phrase “duw duw” which means “god god”.

The first time I said this in front of a very English friend they were very confused and concerned that it was some kind of antisemitic phrase - fortunately it is not!

Duwedd annwyl - Dear God

On the more positive side of exclamations is the word “lush” which is more popular in the South and is used a lot in the English language within Wales. I believe it’s short for “luscious”.

“That coat’s lush!”

“Ti’n edrych yn lush!” (You look lush!)

This is common amongst non-Welsh speakers as well as Welsh speakers.

Some very common Northern / Gog slang is “champiwn” and “eidial”.

Which are basically “champion” and “ideal” with heavy North Walian accents.

It’s like, a confirmation in a way. For anyone who’s familiar with the word “slay” and how that’s used, it’s similar to that.

Like instead of saying “okay” sometimes someone will just say “champiwn” or “eidial”. With the “ch” being the English “ch” in “change”.

Which brings us to the greatest criminal of the language but also one of my favourite words:

Cwtch

The only official word in the Welsh language that has that “change” ch sound spelt as a “ch”.

Would I go back in time and stop them from spelling it that way if I could? Absolutely.

Cwtsh is how it should phonetically be spelt. Alas. There is no reversing the insane amount of merch across Wales with Cwtch spread across them.

It’s particularly warm hug or cuddle but it can also be like a nook.

In my area we refer to the cupboard under the stairs as the:

“cwtch dan star” - (cwtch under the stairs)

but also:

“Put that in the dog’s cwtch.” Is a perfectly acceptable phrase.

or:

“This is my cwtch, go get your own.”

Like “lush”, this word is used by many non-Welsh speakers in their English and is a very common term (at least it is in the South)

So a cosy reading nook would be Remus’ cwtch and Sirius would be his cariad.

I think that about covers swearing and endearment? Of course there’s probably ones I’ve missed or aren’t familiar with but these are what came to mind for me.

For the next part I’ll go into terms for family members before moving on to culture/history with a focus on events that would influence the marauders era. Which, oh boy, things were a bit rocky in Wales then. Lots of protests for the working class and for the language.

Note: I am not the collective consciousness of every Welsh person. My experience is not universal - especially when it comes to North Walian things. This is just meant to serve as a general guide. Hope this helps and good luck with your writing!

#welsh remus lupin #welsh remus #marauders era #cymraeg #lily evans #james potter #sirius black #the marauders #wales #welsh #welsh language #wolfstar

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