#but no 🤧

[lopsidedtreetrunks]

My dad's playing the quarry and i was thinking 'wow what a throwback' but then i looked it up to discover it came out only last year 😭😭

[madeofsushi]

the way concernedape dropped the new update on the first day of spring, which coincides with the first day of the game, was genius

[clarulitas]

FRED ASTAIRE performs "You're All the World to Me" — Royal Wedding (1951) dir. Stanley Donen

[eldrtchmn]

Messmer, The Impaler

[anna-scribbles]

emma dupain cheng on the brain😽🎀

more:

[shorelinnes]

changbin: I'm going to stare at you until you love me play playstation with me

[skullsandcorals]

"I'm dyslexic. I'm not stupid."

[touden-laios]

FALIN TOUDEN | Dungeon Meshi, 1.24

[moondirti]

MDNI. dubcon. objectification. degradation. humiliation. guys being gross. female reader. fingering. cunnilingus. pussy slapping. brief aftercare. an absurd amount of filth for something so short.

price helping you get over your fear of humiliation by inviting the guys over and prying your pussy open for them, half-slouched on his lap with your legs held up in the air :( they’re so mean about it, too. cooing condescending compliments, curling their nasty hands around your jaw to keep your head in place as they pet your most vulnerable places, like you’re the winning pup at a dog show and not a whole human—entitled to any boundary you set, regardless of how your husband feels.

they pay no heed to your protests, though. actually, the men avoid addressing you at all. rather, all their personal, invasive questions are directed to price, who answers them with his own self-satisfied grin.

‘keeps clenchin’ around nothing, desperate thing. hole this willing deserves to be gaped. how often d'you stuff her?’ depends on if she's been good.

‘fookin’ drooched, cap. does she taste as guid as she looks?’ mm, better. smells like nectar too. take a whiff, son. don’ wash my beard afterward on the occasion, jus to keep her under my nose.

‘think i can thaw a winter’s worth of ice with this cunt alone. heat’s practically radiating off ‘er. pathetic slut.’ y’should see how much worse it gets after a good beating, lieutenant. swells up, and damn well sears my palm.

and of course they take it upon themselves to test the validity of his answers. kyle works four fingers into you, then his thumb, stretching you open for his probing, angling your hips up to the light so that your insides are illuminated for his curious eye. if price didn’t have his rough hands anchored to the underside of your knees, you would have kicked his prized sergeant off.

embarrassment washes your neck in warmth, lashes droopy with fat tears. all your husband does to comfort you is place a scratchy kiss to your shoulder, soft hushes tickling your skin.

then, soap intercedes to shove his nose to your mons. he doesn’t just take a whiff — rather, he sucks in the sweet-sour tang your slick provides, testing it in both scent and taste. his hot tongue laves over where kyle’s fingers had been, incisors nibbling at the ripe bud of your clit. mortifying pleasure sinks low, sloshing in your belly’s bed. though you did not expect him to be, he isn’t modest about it. soap presses completely into your pussy, muzzle lacquered with wetness that rivals yours.

your whimpers devolve into moans. loud, a little unhinged. you’ve always played at dressing them up around price, worried that he’d turn away if your face screwed too tight, or your pleasure made itself known beyond what directly serves him. it’s exactly the habit that got you into this mess; and as you lose yourself to the scene, you can feel his delight blossoming against your back.

ghost scares you the most. he lets you have your orgasm, towering behind the man between your legs, but does not let him revel in it, yanking him back by his mohawk at the first twitch of your toes. in the fervour, you have hard time remembering what you should expect. especially when he doesn’t get to it immediately, wiping the gloss off your plush cunt. his callouses rash you, gritty, abrading the soft surface of your skin. it is only when you wince do his eyes crinkle in a manner cruel enough to evoke what’s to come.

but it’s too late to prime yourself. his hand flies back, coming back twice as fast to strike dead centre between your legs. it hurts. hurts so much more than it ever has before, your body unused to unrestrained strength. you scream, throat mangling around the rough cut of it, fighting wildly against price until you manage to escape his hold. immediately, instead of running away, you twist backwards, burying your face into his neck, calming yourself by taking deep breaths of his cologne. something heady — leather, tobacco, sandalwood — bridges the synapses in your brain, numbs the pain, if only a little.

“shhh, little one. you’re alright. it’s okay. doing so good for us.” he soothes, rubbing your sweaty back. the world narrows to just you and him, his men reduced to mere afterthoughts. to be dealt with later — though you doubt the conversation will be anywhere near reprimanding, more likely to end with a bottle of scotch split between four, approving slaps to the captain’s back, than it ever will in your defence.

“n-ne- never a-ga…”

“come, now. let’s not be brash, mm. i promised them a pump each. ‘n’ what kind of host would i be if i didn’t make good on that?”

[hoshigray]

DON'T FUCKINGT ALK TO ME, DAWG WHAT THE FUCKING FUUUUCK!?!¡¡?,¿¿,?!?

[awetfrog]

trotting around in the pig suit until kim says something nice about it

[mirabel-on-a-bicycle]

Charles died trying to protect a Pakistani boy from a hate crime. Charles, a half Indian person, died- like fuck I'm so emotional about this.

"I mean I'm half Indian, why am I so different?"

Listen. Given the history of the IndoPak conflict, we aren't talking about the subtle implications of this line enough. Not only did Charles look at this kid and see himself in him, he tackled the xenophobia at face value—no strings attached, no connotations, history be damned. And what undoes me even more is that he believed that boy was no different from him and therefore did not deserve to be treated that way. He never once showed any regret for doing what he did. And that is so so telling of Charles, in a much deeper sense than we might realise at first.

Charles was always a protector through and through. He died for it. And even after, no matter who it was, he never stopped being a protector. But in that moment specifically, that act of immigrant solidarity?? It was like... an entire lifetime of history classes and unending geopolitical strife and debates about who deserves to live and who doesn't just flashed before my eyes when Charles took one look at him and went "Oh fuck no. I'm no different. We're in this together and I'm not leaving you alone". I cannot stress enough how much that healed me :')))

[delhe-dalim]

Koh-to-yah, little 'Soka! :D

[gorejo]

he’s the prettiest dude alive in my world

[53v3nfrn5]

Yoshitaka Amano: Finding Happiness with Tarot Fortune-Telling (1991)

[friendzoned61]

Alternate ending to my ectoimplosion art.

Reminder to read the fic by @echoghost1 they just rattle around my head all day 😔