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Now if she does it like this will you do it like that now if she touches like this will you touch her right back now if she moves like this will you move like that come on

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mood board for when you're normal

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DAMN okay.... can I try for Gabe/Clark/Drilla 15 then?

Gabe/Clark/Drilla, passionately. Set post-Dynasty

The three of them stumble backstage after the Kenny match, Drilla and Clark's around his shoulders and the high of the crowd's yelling in his ears. He lost, but who gives a shit?

They're supposed to head straight to comments, but he pulls them to a stop anyway. They can fucking wait for two seconds, he's not ready to go sit alone and be gawked at yet.

"Something wrong, dawg?" Clark asks, warm under Gabe's arm. They're close enough he can smell the stupid fancy shampoo the guy uses, the one Drilla claims he doesn't steal but that Gabe can also smell on his other side.

"Nah," he says, breathing it in deep. He can feel Drilla's hand on his back, and it's suddenly real fucking important that the two of them are here. That they hadn't used up their energy standing ringside for the boss. That it's just the three of them tucked behind a curtain and Clark had looked even happier about how the people'd cheered than Gabe felt. "Actually. There's something."

He's made a whole thing out of following his impulses, even when they're so fucking stupid his brain's screaming at him to stop before he starts moving, so this is as simple as breathing. Inhale. Lean in. Kiss Clark Connors straight on the mouth. Clark makes a surprised noise, his hand on Gabe's shoulder-blade's stiffening for a second. Then his other hand's coming up, too, hand on Gabe's jaw as he drinks him in like whiskey. It's a good kiss, the kind a guy could get used to, so Gabe does.

"You two want some, uh, privacy?" Drilla asks in a way that sounds disappointed, already pulling back.

"No, dickhead," Gabe says fondly, and reels him in for his turn. Drilla's kiss is a lot more pushy, a lot like going another round in a fight, which Gabe could get used to just as easy.

"What was that for, man?" Clark asks, voice breathy.

"Dunno," Gabe says. "Just… really fucking glad you two were here."

"Of course, man, you're- "

Gabe cuts off the catchphrase with another kiss.

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out of context transphobic ganon

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ah wait Danny and Zay, 8, for the kiss meme

Dannyzay, in secrecy

uh minor warning for the fact that they are both drunk in this fic. drunk and stupid. they do not fuck and are probably less drunk than zay thinks they are, but they're most DEFINITELY as stupid as /i/ think they are.

They'd struck out at the club again, three hours and several drinks into the night and with nothing to show for it except for Zay feeling like he's on a boat and Danny sprawling half in his lap with pink cheeks and pinker lips. He's the kind of cute that gets Zay fluttery, sometimes (right now), which isn't fair.

"Don't think we're getting lucky," Danny breathes in his ear, close enough Zay can feel the curve of his smile. Not. Fair. There's not supposed to be strings attached to this, that's what keeps it normal. Keeps it just a fallback plan.

"Think you're too messy for a girl to mess with, man," Zay jokes, and Danny leans back to pout at him.

"You're a bad wingman, Zay," he says. Then he gets that silly mischievous look. "Apologize."

"I'm too drunk for you to be using doublespeak, Danny. You mean apologize for real or?"

"I mean suck my dick," Danny says sweetly. Not fucking fair.

"Not while you're this sloppy, man," Zay says. "Let's get out of here."

Danny takes the fact he's too drunk to responsibly brojob with really personally, pouting the whole stumble out the back door of the bar. It's pathetic enough Zay even starts to feel bad for him. Not enough to do take-backsies on the rejection - part of the agreement to keep it casual is that they're not gonna do it if there's a question of regret in the morning - but enough to turn and pat Danny on the shoulder.

"If you sober up on the walk home, then I'll suck your dick," he says, which tells him he's probably also too fucked to be sucking dick. Danny brightens, then trips into Zay's chest.

"Promise?" He asks, smile wide and goofy in a way Zay's got trouble saying no to.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," he says.

"Seal it with a kiss, then," Danny teases. That sends a thrill through Zay, one that tastes half like worry and half like desire. That's not… a thing they do. Part of no strings attached. A little getting off between bros? That's pure biological function, baby. The itch's gotta be scratched. But make outs? That's the shit you fantasize about doing with someone that's… well, distinctly not a bro. That is removing the bro out of brojob and shifting it into second gear, into something that matters.

But Danny's smile is cute, and the shitty alley light over their heads makes his eyes look nice. There's nobody nearby to make him second guess it, either. So before he can take a breath and talk himself out of it, he steps in and presses their mouths together.

It's not coordinated at all. Their teeth knock against each other on the approach, like Danny wasn't really thinking this would happen and half of Zay hasn't come to terms with it either. But then things kick into gear and even if it's objectively kind of a bad kiss it feels good. Danny makes a noise Zay's never heard out of him and presses closer, hands on Zay's waist in a way that has him kind of reconsidering the whole 'not doing sex acts' thing. Zay pulls back just a bit, taking a deep breath.

"Holy shit," he says.

"Promise accepted," Danny slurs, and grabs Zay's hand to drag him home.

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José pushed me on the swing

I explained what it was that a B.J. meant

His stories were dark and deep, like his eyes

Your eyes so full of secrets; I guess I loved you

Right when my mom said your mom's a lesbian

It's been so long, I probably wouldn't know you

If I saw you again

I followed Eric, second through fifth grade

His raspy voice, down the long hallway

He liked the dirty drawings I made

Girls with impossible breasts

I tried to sell him one for fifty cents

Now they're in the back of Mrs. Waltz's desk

And I hope I never see that boy again.

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tibetan pop stars by hop along

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GO ON ROMEO , BARK YOUR HEAD OFF

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Somewhere a Judge, Hop Along

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It's the hand on the heart for me🥺

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This website is too mobile focused these days. Reblog and tell me what your desktop/laptop background is.

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their third match will be no dq i have conceptions of a plan

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what did he mean by this 🤔

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my 3 girlfriends. and yes. they smoke weed .

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i cant stop thinking about thus video

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#lovewins