#But tbh he was a jerk
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jesuistrestriste · 2 months ago
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How do we feel about exhibitionist art donaldson being shown off by patrick and/ or reader in the locker room? respectable world tennis star art donaldson might have the rest of the world fooled, but any tennis pro who’s step foot in the locker room at a professional tournament knows the truth.
ohh yea patrick’s leant back against the lockers, art’s back pressed against his chest while he jerks him off and watches all of their fellow athletes walk by and flush red when they see the way the blonde is squirming
“he’s cute, right?” patrick says with a smug smirk when a pair of two other tennis players stop to watch the brunette’s hand stroke and squelch against his friend’s wet cock
and art’s whining like a bitch; shuddering and curling in over his own abdomen like he’s trying not to lose it. but when he suddenly makes direct eye contact with one of the guys in front of them, it sends him so fast into an orgasm that he has to lean back against pat to prevent himself from toppling forward :/ he’s moaning and grinding into the hand still stroking him as he squirts ropes over the tile flooring. he’s got like five pairs of eyes on him now.
patrick knows how much his doubles partner likes being watched ! maybe next time he’ll bend him over the bench and really give everyone something to stare at <3
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4thwallbreakerdraws2 · 1 month ago
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SHOWSTARS
Working on the asks again, but have this colored piece of SMG16 and RTV!Puzzles for now. Their duo name is SHOWSTARS (or BLUESCREEN if we take the angst path).
Please note that SMG16 belongs to @birdy-four and that these two are meant to be seen as STRICTLY PLATONICAL!
Anyway enough yapping!
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msnihilist · 5 months ago
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I still don't think Ben did anything wrong during "Duped." He deserves to do normal teenage boy stuff like see a movie on opening day, and he was trying to give himself that while also saving the world AND supporting his girlfriend's tennis match. He didn't spend enough time with his duplicates to realize that they had opposing personalities to their assignments — it's not like he sent his asshole-self to Julie's match on purpose.
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beloved-child-of-the-house · 9 months ago
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Standing in the town square ringing my bell and yelling like Harry is the special one!!! Draco is the one who is just some guy!!!! Harry literally saved the world twice and had a prophecy made about him!!!! Draco is simply mean, blond, and rich!!!! Harry is the bold, adventurous, and self directed one!!! Draco is the one who does exactly what is expected of him!!!! Draco is a bad person, but he is not a bad boy his behavior sucks but it’s not subversive in the context of their culture!!! Harry literally overthrew the government!!! He robbed a bank and stole a dragon!!!! Hello?? Hello???
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strawberriemarswrites · 10 months ago
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CHAPTER SEVEN
Chapter Summary: You're having some interesting dreams lately, and one day after work you catch some unwanted attention. Good thing someone's started following you home. Pairing: Bartolomeo x F!Reader Rating: Explicit, NSFW Chapter (18+ only; PiV sex) TW: public harassment, Barto's full-on stalking now, first dream is nice and steamy but the second dream at the end involves a bit of gore Ao3 Link: Chapter Seven (2,877 words)
Spring melted into Summer, and you quickly learned the AC rattled for just a bit too long whenever it turned on. It hadn’t yet been pushed to its limit, but it left you worried that it would kick the bucket when the first truly scorching day rolled around. It worked for now, at least, which was a godsend given the more pressing matter at hand.
Namely, someone pressing into you while you were bent over the kitchen counter. You weren’t entirely sure how you got there, or how Bartolomeo got into the apartment, but things had apparently escalated quickly.
His hands gripped your hips, your toes grazing the floor with each languid push. He nuzzled the shell of your ear, and you were surprised his septum ring was still cold against your skin, sending shocks down your spine.
“Sweetheart,” he purred, his voice impossibly low.
“Barto,” you whined, his name echoing despite the small space. “More.”
He obeyed, pulling out almost completely only to slam back in, his pace increasing. He was long, that much you knew, even though you hadn’t seen it. No matter how deep he pushed, he always seemed to be able to go even deeper, his cock dragging against your tight walls as his pace grew more erratic.  
“My girl. Mine.” He punctuated his statement with a hard thrust, the rough handling contrasting sharply with the soft kisses and playful bites on your neck and shoulders. Sparks flew through your veins as the head of his cock pressed against your sweet spot. You hardly recognized yourself through the animalistic cry that wrenched free, your cunt being pushed to its limit.
Right on the cusp of release, a familiar rattling sound cut through the air.
Blearily, you opened your eyes. You were flopped over on your couch, dried drool on your cheek. The AC was wheezing to life, pulling you from your delicious reverie.
You groaned, covering your face. “Fuck.”
It was a beautiful evening as you got out of work for the day. The sky was a gradient of pinks and oranges as the sun began its slow descent below the skyline. Its reflection glinted off of buildings and cars, filling your vision with little sparks of gold.
The darkening sky made it easier for Bartolomeo to keep an eye on you as he followed you home, keeping three buildings between you and him.
For all intents and purposes, he could have casually walked up and passed off his presence as a coincidence, as if he was just out running errands. He imagined you’d ask if he wanted to walk home with you, something he’d do with all the enthusiasm of a puppy playing with his favorite toy. Maybe you could stop at the diner, and he’d actually get a chance to show that he loved the little brushes of contact with your legs against his. Maybe he’d even get to feel those legs around his hips—
Bartolomeo shook his head, expelling the thought. This was why he was following from a distance. He didn’t trust himself not to overwhelm you with advances, or let slip one of his more lewd thoughts.
You were blissfully unaware, a slight spring in your step as you walked down the steps to the subway platform. He watched you swipe a train pass and waited for you to turn the corner, before jumping the turnstiles and resuming the pursuit.
He’d never admit that, despite the risk of being caught, he was starting to get a bit of a thrill out of the whole situation. You hadn’t said anything about noticing break-ins in a while, which meant he was getting better about hiding his tracks. On occasion he hid on the fire escape when he knew you were awake, or sat by your door and listened to you play with Luffy or sing to yourself. Part of him felt guilty still, but that part was slowly getting quieter as he continued to get away with his antics.
Following you was another step down into the obsession pit. Bartolomeo could justify it to himself all he wanted to, despite the obvious truth. He boarded the subway car behind yours, watching your back through the windows.
The car you chose was less crowded than usual for this time of day, devoid of the locals you’d grown accustomed to seeing. It wasn’t completely empty, as there was a group of people near the front of the car who were too loud for the tiny space, horsing around and engaging in general foolishness. Not long after you sat down and started to look at your phone, however, the volume died down somewhat, replaced with some muttering and hushed snickering. Maybe they were being more considerate now that someone else was in the car with them.
If only they were that kind.
A few minutes passed before a shadow loomed over you. Startled, you looked up.
A blond man with sunglasses was staring down at you with a wide grin. He had two long scars across either side of his face, giving him an almost ruggedly handsome appearance, if it weren’t for the fact he was leaning over you with imposing intent.
“Hey there, dollface,” he said. “Traveling alone?”
You bristled, tucking your phone away. “I’m meeting someone.”
He laughed, “Sure you are. Who’re you meeting? A boyfriend?”
You shook your head, pulling your shoulders in, instinctively making yourself smaller.
The man laughed, “Aw, no need to be shy. I’m just making conversation.” He suddenly leaned over you, putting one hand over the back of the seat. “Tell you what — why don’t you ditch whoever it is and come join us?” He tipped his sunglasses down. “I’m sure my friends and I could show you a fun time.”
You tried to inch away, pressing yourself closer to the cool window. “I’m just meeting a friend. I’m sure we can have a fun time by ourselves.”
“Maybe they can join us. The more the merrier, right?” He cocked his head, looking you up and down. “If they’re half as pretty as you, you’ll both look good on either arm.”
You suppressed the urge to gag, instead shaking your head again. “I’m really not interested in a night out, thank you.”
“So a night in, then? I don’t mind going back to your place.”
You ground your teeth, a dial in your head moving a few notches from flight toward fight. Why couldn’t this guy take a hint? Abruptly, you stood, throwing him off guard enough that you were able to push past him and stand by the doors. “No. Thank you. Maybe some other time.”
One of his friends piped up from the front of the car, “Come on, Bellamy. She said she’s not interested.”
He shot the group a glare before smiling at you again, his tongue peeking out between his teeth as he regained his composure. 
“Your loss,” he said with a shrug and leaned against a support pole as the train slowly pulled to a stop. “See you around.”
You couldn’t get off the train fast enough, not caring that you were still several stops away from the apartment. You took off at a brisk jog, rushing back up to the open air and hugging yourself as you tried to come down from the adrenaline rush. You knew your way to the next station, you could get back on once the train came back around — surely they’d all be gone by then. The sky began to darken further as you slowed back down to a walk, pushing your hair back with a shaking hand. Granted, it was a brief encounter, but you were confident you’d had enough excitement for one night.
With that thought, you again tempted fate.
As you came up to the next subway entrance, you grew increasingly aware of a chill down your spine. Initially, you chalked it up to the slight drop in temperature of the crisp summer evening, but it started to feel more like there were eyes on you. You rounded the signpost for the subway entrance, trying to casually catch sight of whoever may have been behind you—
On the entrance stairs was the scarred man — Bellamy, was it? — surrounded by his entourage.
“Hey there, dollface.” He grinned, his tongue darting out between his teeth. “Where’s that friend you were meeting?”
After assessing each one of his friends in turn, the dial in your brain switched back to flight so quickly the knob broke. 
Voices shouted behind you as you ran faster than you believed you ever could, your steps thundering against the concrete. You couldn’t tell if the streets were strangely empty, or if you were running past people so fast that you stopped seeing them, only registering them as obstacles to dodge as you fled. You probably should have cried for help, but by the time you thought about it, your voice was lost in your lungs, smothered by the chilled night air that filled them. The only thing on your mind now was run.
Just as you made a sharp turn into an alley, a hand shot out and grabbed your arm, finally wrenching free the shriek caught in your chest. You clawed at the hand grabbing you, glaring daggers at Bellamy as he took off his sunglasses to stare down at you.
“Aw, you’re even prettier when you’re pissed off,” he laughed, lifting your arm over your head. With a sickening lurch in your stomach you felt your feet leave the ground, and your shoulder strained as he effortlessly held you up like you weighed nothing. He stopped when he had you dangling a good few feet above the sidewalk, his eyes wide and manic. “I’ll give you another chance: lemme show you a nice time, huh?”
It probably wasn’t the wisest decision, given the position you found yourself in, but it was the only thing you could think to do. You felt your palm sting and your feet hit the concrete before you fully realized you slapped him, hard enough to make him drop you. Staggering, you took off again in the direction you came, weaving around Bellamy’s friends only to run straight into someone’s chest. Panicked, you balled your hands into fists before you looked up and saw whose chest it was.
Bartolomeo put an arm around your shoulders and held you close, staring straight ahead at his target. In spite of the red creeping into his periphery, his expression was calm, only showing the bare minimum of the rage he felt firing through his nerves. “There a problem here?”
Bellamy’s troupe gave him a wide berth as he approached, a fading red handprint on the left side of his face. “What’s it to you?”
“Nothin’,” Bartolomeo started gently coaxing you behind him. “Just a friend passin’ through.”
The cocky grin from before slowly crept back up as Bellamy made eye contact with you. “Guess you weren’t lying after all about that friend.” His gaze then met Bartolomeo’s. “Not all that pretty though.”
“Funny,” Bartolomeo smirked, “that’s not what your mother was sayin’.”
Bellamy seethed, cracking his knuckles. “Looks like you and your little bitch need to learn some manners.”
Bartolomeo’s brow ticked and he took a step forward, before he felt you lightly pull on the back of his leather jacket. He looked down to you, putting an arm around your shoulders.
You tugged on his jacket again. He was outnumbered, and you really didn’t want to see him get hurt. “Come on, he’s not worth it,” you said. “Let’s just go home.”
His expression softened slightly, his fury abating. “You sure?”
You nodded, and he relented, turning his back slightly—
Before ducking out of range of a right hook. He backed up to keep out of Bellamy’s reach, nudging you further behind him. Bellamy threw another punch, and Bartolomeo brought both fists up to protect his face. 
You quickly backed away from the fight, surprised to see the rest of the group do the same, as Bartolomeo swung from the left. As Bellamy went to block, he was struck from the right and nailed in the solar plexus, knocking the wind from him. Fueled further by the anger flooding his veins, Bartolomeo started wailing on his face, the sound of flesh hitting flesh and crunching bone echoing against the buildings.
You flinched with each hit, unable to look away as Bellamy’s face turned bloodier and more bruised. One of his friends tried to step forward before another one stopped him, muttering things between them before giving Bartolomeo a wide-eyed stare and backing up further.
Finally, the sounds stopped, and Bartolomeo shoved Bellamy backward toward his friends. He looked dazed, for as much as one who could barely see through the swelling on his face could, blood staining down the front of his shirt. Cuts on his cheeks and nose stood out sharply against the bruises, and he struggled to stand upright, before staggering back and being caught by two of his bigger comrades.
Bartolomeo turned back to you, barely having broken a sweat, knuckles bruised and his shirt spattered with blood.
You gaped, your heart racing, and a faint flush crept to your cheeks.
That is. Disturbingly hot.
He pulled you to his side with an arm around your shoulder, holding you close as he led you from the bloodbath. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get home.”
When you returned back to the apartment, you spent way too long in your living room helicoptering around Bartolomeo and dressing his knuckles, trying to insist that you treat his shirt with peroxide, and fangirling about how he handled that fight. He happily let you do so, even allowing you to shove an icepack into his less bruised hand to take with him, despite him having plenty of first aid material already. He was just relieved he’d gotten off the subway in time to follow you, and that you hadn’t noticed him when you were trying to get to the next station.
And he was relieved to show that prick what happens when someone messes with his girl.
Later that night as you slept, you felt a weight on your chest. You tried to move it, assuming it was Luffy, but your arms wouldn’t listen. You tried to roll over, but your body wouldn’t budge. You felt hot, heavy breathing across your face, and with immense effort you managed to open your eyes.
Bartolomeo was straddling your waist, his arms on either side of your head to keep his body from completely pinning yours down. His lips were pulled back into a snarl, his eyes glowing. His teeth looked even larger, especially up so close. Puffs of steam came from his mouth as he breathed, and in the darkness you weren’t sure if what was dripping from his lips was drool or blood.
You couldn’t stop the snarky part of you from saying, “What large teeth you have.”
Bartolomeo’s snarl turned into a grin. It was definitely blood coming down from between his teeth. His voice came out low, layered over itself as he growled, “Better to eat you with.”
The weight on your chest moved, and you looked down. There was a pile of gore, gently beating.
“A gift?” you asked, your voice detached and distant.
He leaned down to your ear, “Our heart.”
An interesting word choice. Not “my”, not “your”. Our heart.
His tongue slid over your cheek as he pulled away, leaving behind a dark, wet trail over your face. Your arms finally responded to your demands as you reached up to try and keep him in place. But your hand slipped right through him, instead landing right on top of the messy heart on your chest.
It felt strangely furry, and made a very confused “mrrreep”.
You opened your eyes with a gasp. No Bartolomeo, no heart, just Luffy wondering why you awoke him from his sleep. You pushed yourself upright, surveying the room.
Nothing. No one. Just you and the kitty.
And it was uncomfortably hot in your bedroom.
You groaned and gently nudged Luffy off of you, stretching as you rolled out of bed to find a box fan. There was no way in hell you were going to try messing with the AC this late at night. You retrieved the fan from the hall closet, flicking on the light in your room as you dragged it over to the window to the fire escape. Before you could push it open, something on the floor caught your eye.
Flecks of rust, dirt, and chipped paint were scattered around near the window. You groaned, crouching down to look at them a bit closer. You knew you vacuumed just the day before, so where the hell did the stuff come from?
You got your answer when you opened the window and bits of rust shook loose, littering the carpet.
It occurred to you that you’d never opened this window before now.
Everything you had been trying to ignore, everything you thought had been resolved, all of it came flooding back, pouring in from the window and sending debris to your floor.
Someone had been in your bedroom. And the fire escape was how they got in.
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mislamicpearl · 2 months ago
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For a long time I've wanted to do a continuation of this post showing how Cole and Kai interact with Sora as Lloyd's daughter, but I literally couldn't find any Kai and Sora one-on-one interactions. So now I just have these screenshots of Cole and Sora saved and I thought they were too cute not to share.
Sooo yeah I guess this is a "Cole being an uncle to Sora" post.
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youngdutchishot · 6 months ago
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young Hosea with avoidant attachment. He pulls away. He leaves camp for long periods.
He feels this discomfort when Dutch hugs him tightly. That he even thinks, for a split second, that Dutch too feels the fears he does.
Yet. He pulls away, again.
He runs off.
He unintentionally hurts Dutch because he believes — it'll be easier this way.
Until he comes back and finds Dutch a mess.
And until he hugs Hosea so tight that he finally realizes they've been fearing the same idea. The mere thought of losing him was suffocating — and yet he somehow failed to see that it too suffocated Dutch.
He sees his cowardice.
So, he sucks it up. Braces Dutch and vows to protect him. Reforms their promise he broke, and mends Dutch's soul with his. They keep their bond strong, together. As one.
He learns from Dutch, that love can be safe. Love can be forever because their bond was tied from the moment they met.
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lesbianforlottie · 3 months ago
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and then go on to say hes NOT autistic hes just a jerk
hes autistic and a jerk !!!! crazy idea guys ikr
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hellenhighwater · 2 years ago
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Because I have been at this work training all week, and hanging out with my professional peers basically every waking hour, my work brain is no longer turning off at night.
And I am now having work dreams.
So instead of the gleeful riot of violence that is my normal sleeping hours, I am now committing sleep murder and then going "oh man my boss is gonna be so mad when he finds out about this"
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yourtwistedlies · 10 months ago
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i feel like
diving deeper into kotlc means getting past your hatred for fitz vacker to some point
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a-three-part-mini-opera · 3 months ago
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i fr learn abt Columbus every single year in history class, only this year, every time i see his name i think of In Trousers
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virgothozul · 2 years ago
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I’ve never stopped lurking on ao3. Currently in the middle of Macho Man by GothNessMonster & Swampbunny (🔒rated explicit !)
and I’m pretty damn soft for catholic dumbass Shiza and silly fruity JoJo  
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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 2 years ago
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I've been too nice to Dazai recently with my metas. I feel the urgent need to roast him to restore balance to the universe.
Anyways what do you mean your mentee scared you so you stopped your literal heart to momentarily terrify him into thinking you'd died from shock. What the hell do you mean "the only way I knew how to reward you was showing you my secret technique which is cardiac arrest" - shut up dude. You are a petty little control freak with a just barely hidden competitive streak a mile wide who had to win the scaring contest
Dazai, after Atsushi scares him once: "Oh no! My aura of unflappable mystery! To regain my honour, I must immediately and momentarily die about it!"
jerk.
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gispurple · 4 months ago
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Had a dream last night that I was late for my first day of school and the teacher was being real bitchy about it for some reason I was the only one in class (also if was a theater for done reason??????) so I started pretending to be Natsya Rasputina and this man got so confused and I started pulling out magically apearring evidence like a chatroom with Aurora and a website in which I could control the ship remotely. He was so angry when I told him was dating the ship do I accused him of being homophobic and he was like “NO????? LEGALLY A SHIP IS NOT A PERSON????” so then I called him racist
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cherry-bomb-ships · 4 months ago
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Oh btw no one guessed who my OTHER ppg crush is so.... sigh
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This fuckerrrrrrrrrr <_<
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local-maenad · 5 months ago
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My lord Mavrus is just a hilarious character. He’s so useless yet can deal so much damage. My dude what do you mean you’re actively pretending to help out??? When your friends are DYING and not too long ago you were dealing so much damage like it was NOTHING 😭
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