#certified manwhore

[lunarw0rks]

Do you think soaps ran through?

he's a soldier. need i say more?

but

the short answer is yes. FUCKING LOOK AT HIM !! HE'S IN THERE

[blondwhxrewrites]

"Okay everyone, raise your hand if you think Mattheo is a manwhore." Pansy cackled, leaning back into the couch and raising her hand. It didn't take long for everyone in the room to raise their hand, and in that moment Mattheo realized that friendship was bullshit. Everyone had betrayed him, and they were all dead to him.

"You all suck," Mattheo grumbled, huffing out smoke from his cigarette.

"And princess, put your hand down."

Even his own girlfriend was against him—this was an absolute travesty. 

[shinigamigloss]

mission accomplished

✎ Leon's a certified manwhore, really. You know that, but you can be worse than him. So what's the most that can happen in a hotel room with a reputedly flirtatious womanizer like Leon after an onerous mission? ID LEON SUPREMACY.

cw: getting it in a hotel room, cunnilingus, d in p aka mating press yay, creampie, size kink size kink size kink, protection? forgotten. fem! reader, he's just silly therefore beware of the corny lines, biting, MDNI

“You wanna get dinner when this is all over?”

You couldn’t say if it was worth nipping in the bud at that juncture, but this whole little odyssey with Leon definitely started with that very query. It wasn’t a figure of speech – you really had him down on his knees in a random hotel room.

The lavender air of the hotel room, the gunpowder-like whiff, and the notes of Old Spice emanating from the tender curve of Leon’s neck still wreak havoc on your brain after your shared kisses. Your legs buckle, and you’re in sackcloth and ashes, all thanks to wearing those mean machines – your Jimmy Choos. But you feel sexy within his reach, and you adore the vamp of your stilettos – the panorama of him sinking between your legs as he nudges you down onto the edge of the mattress.

“Panties off, pretty.” His singsong cadence is cajoling, of course; you get the gist of it.

“Demanding, are we?” You rebut, pixilated and all mawkish. Lifting your hips only slightly, you hitch up your legs and pull down the panties that have been eclipsing your love-starved pussy for hours, and with a sloppy thud, the only piece separating Leon from your lovely cunt thumps onto the linoleum floor.

“Well, now you know why I said nay to dessert at dinner.”

Such corny, coquettish platitudes only serve to draw a slumberish smile to your lips. You have no idea how men with such beautiful faces can be saddled with a palate full of sophomoric slapstick. But a dick is a dick, and something tells you that Leon won’t leave you empty-handed.

“Fuck...” You tilt your head, tracing a moony arc, and your chin is high, all the while splaying your hands over the fluffy, freshly laundered sheets.

How you got here – and how he’s now lost in the slick heat of your pussy – is a great mystery. (Well, not really. It’s a story about two horny agents renting a hotel room on the condition that they make it safely back from their mission in China) Still, you love the tender lips pressed against the plush, juicy slit.

Leon wouldn’t leave without a taste, even though the foreplay feels superfluous. After all, skipping foreplay is a felony. It’s a rule – no exceptions: a manwhore has to know how to eat his partner out. This is precisely why Leon Kennedy is notorious in the D.S.O. and the dominatrix scene – a beloved whore through and through.

So he puts you in his mouth and eats you ‘til his teeth rot.

He loves it when you pull his hair (such a slut!); he even sometimes honors you with groans that sizzle your ears pleasantly. Right now, Leon’s priority is to gorge on you and perhaps make you cum more than once during the course of the night. But what about himself? His pleasure?

Of course, by the time he pulls down the indigo jeans he’s wearing, he will already be drenched in thick globs of precum.

He has a couple of minutes to reflect on that issue, but in those enchanted split seconds, all he does is lap at the dripping amrita from your hole, flowing for his benefit.

“Too fucking sweet.”

His mouth, which has been yapping non-stop since he was assigned to the assignment alongside you, is apparently very well trained at the eating-pussy phenomenon, and he can’t help himself, clawing at your thighs and pulling you into his mouth; you’re half too thunderstruck to even buck your hips closer.

His tongue is sugar-coated, even more delish as he drifts on and on over your pussy – maybe even romantic. No matter how many times he says he’s a typical man for your average overnight, the lies are unfolded, and he gets all the more addicted.

“Leon. I’m–’m fuck.”

You’re so out of it that you’re babbling whatever pops into your head and out of your mouth. Insidious blues lock on you when you push your eyes open, expecting to see that he’s got it – that you’ve grasped the notion of his generosity. Of course, he has to make it all about himself.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” comes between each of his licks, and you can’t muster the strength to even hold your own fucking head. His mouth heats up a beatific pulsation within you when he rises up to your face and puts his business on your lips. Kissing on a first date (if fucking can be excused as a reason for a first date?) is idiotically discouraged, but this man isn’t going to listen to such absurd dictates when he’s drunk on your essence.

And you’re more than up for it, so you sweetly reciprocate his kisses.

Thwip, thwip.

It grates on your ears, and you know what it is. Leon hastily tugs at his belt, wary of missing a second. Free yet? Ha – it’s not in the cards. His boxer briefs are still in the way for both of you.

“I wish men wore panties too,” you bitch up, purpling your pouting lip. Leon freezes mid-motion. Is he processing the absurdity of your words, or just too high on scotch and pussy to simply respond?

Or are you already the pot calling the kettle black?

The possibility of the former, however, is an assumption fraught with misconception when you pull down Leon’s boxers – because he’s already in the same boat, but with a hole in it. If the room had been bathed in those bludgeoning fluorescents instead of the hazy dim lights, you would have seen that his boxers were more profusely soaked than your panties. Viva the dim lights... or the fact that you don’t even care how wet he is.

“What?”

The anticipatory look he gives you can only signal that he would like you to soar onto the bed.

“Legs up, roll over.”

“Nope. Missionary is for sore losers,” you mumble it in a faux, patronizing tone. You’re a fucking liar.

As nice as it sounds to track his face in missionary and stab your fingernails on his back – despite the fact that you broke two of them in the line of duty – you want to ride him more than anything else.

“Losers, huh?”

Leon effortlessly grabs your wrists and stamps you onto the bed. “Sleep with losers, and you’re as good as a loser, gorgeous. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, yeah?”

Your head, sunken into the pillow, floats slowly on lint clouds. Watching him from below is like setting foot for the first time on an unearthed planet made of exploded blues. Fuck. You’re so high, he’s turned you into a slam poet.

He hoists each of your calves and hooks your legs over the frame of his shoulders, leaving your pussy bared – and the December cold seeping in makes your insides flutter. If it weren’t for his pelvis pressing against you at the corner of the bed, you could very well trip on your ass and break a pretty serious bone.

“Keep your legs like this.” He prelects you, very laconic.

You feel so giddy as the raw head of his cock, which he rubs in the palm of his hand, slithers and softens at your entrance as he works himself in with assiduous thrusts.

“Tight as hell,” you hear him croak, but you aren’t quite in the zone enough to pay it any mind. Your bleary eyelids are only half-lidded – if at all – not fully opaque, allowing you to catch a glimpse of him over the nebula-like blurs over his visage beneath your batting eyelashes.

“Shit, baby, you can’t even take the fucking tip.” Leon’s whispers are eulogies to the lovely cunt he first got drunk on the tang of and will now drool over for its tightness. He gives a roll of his hips but never what you so desperately need – he harrows you so blatantly.

You barely lift your hips, humble and tentative, to meet his impish prodding – but his splayed hand on your ribcage forbids you from venturing further, from fucking yourself on his cock any deeper. The loss of levity on your face, the line of your eyebrows knitted in frustration, is absolutely delicious to behold for a cheeky asshole like Leon.

“Stop trying to fuck yourself and use your words, would you?”

For no apparent reason, his voice haunts you.

“Come on, girl. Get it out.” Leon whispers again, layering all the clouds of discord in your head one by one. Those humiliating clouds of thought poof, pan, flake, and evaporate from your slightly ajar lips in a single cry.

“Leon. Please. Gulp. Please! Fuck me.”

Ouch. These words will always conjure visions of shooting yourself with your own gun once the alcohol drains from your veins in the morning – especially after these foul entreaties.

This chain of events – in which Leon has pulled a rabbit out of the hat on a night already in his favor – is capped off with your fuck-me-please beggary. (Propaganda even.)

“You got it, beautiful.” He nuzzles you – metaphorically speaking – with a cloying coo, albeit while ardently clenching your hips. The purple shadows that will mark your skin for weeks are right in his wheelhouse.

The normal you would go like, “Oh no, I can’t be such a slut overnight – and for a man? Humor me, bitch.” You’d be taking the mickey out of yourself.

Leon, however, is just divine. He’s inside you, and he’s hard – a diamond in the rough.

The kisses you share are sporadic, wet, and perhaps absurdly romantic for such a ’trivial’ night. In Leon’s mind, the blinking light bulb is a blaring alarm; the realization that something this good is manipulating a distorted reality hits him in the seconds when he’s already hammering away at your cervix – but without violence.

“Fuck.” The kiss breaks abruptly, like a tape rewinding inside both your heads.

“The condoms.” The thought hits Leon square in the head – but what’s the big deal? Your legs are up in the air (bless the yoga gods), just like that scene of the chick in heels getting knocked up by Patrick Bateman. But now, the guy twitching inside you is preaching condom.

“Leon.”

You’re on the last rung, and his lips are a saliva-laden mess, melded with the cherry tinge of your lipstick. You really should’ve dabbed it off or something, yet he looks stupidly delicious.

He blinks at you, owing it to you to correct his mistake immediately – filling you to the hilt with a lingering, deep-seated thrust.

“Leon!”

Your cry strikes him rapt, and he savors that familiar, sinful tightness around him. So needy – he relishes the feel of you squeezing his cock.

You sharply suck in a breath at the touch of his teeth as he bites a bruise into the delicate flesh beneath your throat, where you smell deliciously dulcet. He’s drunk on you – drunk on the saccharine moans and whimpers spilling from your lips – and, to be honest, he’s been dreaming about this the whole time.

Men grow wiser as they age, but as Leon got older, he indulged in one-night stands, devoting himself to pretty, pretty women making love to him.

It’s bitter that you’re one of those women, yet you still want him to use you – use you so badly, so carelessly.

You don’t know how much longer your fuck-drunk head can keep up, but he knows all too well that you’re close. He pulls back slightly, releasing your ankles and reaching between your legs with his gun-wielding hand to work his thumb over your clit. You’re so desperate for his affection, and tonight, he feels too lavish not to deprive you of that dazzling bliss.

Your moans echo through the hotel room – high-pitched, frantic – the overstimulation nearly unbearable.

“It’s okay, let yourself go. Cum for me, pretty.” Leon’s gruff sighs ebb and flow as he brings you back from the abyss. His pace slows – then, so randomly, he brushes a languid thrust against that spongy spot inside you.

And you listen dully, your eyes nearly rolling out of their sockets – but you give him what he wants.

Everything is hectic, wet, extravagant – and that’s exactly why he keeps going. Forehead to forehead, you both wind up panting, but Leon still gets an A+ for looking good while he fucks you. Your glazed eyes stay locked on the night-blue shades of his pupils in the darkness. You both know what that gaze signifies.

Before you can say a word, Leon pulls his cock out of your slick, dripping pussy with the most obscenely wet sound.

Something inside you frantically pleads for him to stay inside you – what a loss. But Leon takes your hand in his. He still needs you.

“You’ve got this. Go on. Make me cum.”  

Give his cock three – maybe five – sloppy strokes, and he cums on your stomach. Easy.

You slide your legs down – there’s no way you can hold them up any longer – and he groans when you let go of his softening cock from memory, as if discarding an object no longer of use to you. Your legs dangle over the edge of the bed, and Leon closes his eyes – if only fleetingly – to soak in the moment, his cheek buried in the crook of your neck.

Too long or too short – you don’t know how much time has stretched by. You’re so wired, your brain feels melted and fucked, chunks of it oozing out of your ears. It’s almost cozy. Disgustingly so.

But all good things come to an end.  

The night hums like a club beat still thrumming in your bones. You sprawl in the wreckage of silk sheets, watching Leon slip into his jeans like a man who knows he’ll be back.

When he’s done, he turns and flashes you the cheesiest wink in the world. It always shocks you how corny he can be. Just minutes ago, he was fucking you into this very mattress – spread-your-legs kinda shit, fucked-your-brains-out kinda shit.

“Man, this room stinks of sex.” Leon makes a wry face and cups the tip of his nose.  

“Get your ass up and take a bath, or I’ll never set foot in here again.”  

You can hardly lift a hand to shoo him away. Mentally, you can no longer shield yourself from his crank antics. He knows it all and lets out a long, amused sigh – frolicsome.

“You’re a total goner, beautiful. Well, you’re a big girl. You’ll be fine.”

Before closing the suite door, he steals a quick glance at the digits of your phone number, scrawled on the palm of his hand – just to make sure they haven’t faded.

“I’ll give you a weekend wake-up call,” Leon promises and closes the door behind him.  

Whump.  

Mercifully, the next date is a shoo-in, but it only means enduring another endless evening – seconds stretching into minutes, minutes into hours – drowned in his blathering and off-color in-jokes.

Is it really worth it?

The answer, considering you still can’t bring yourself to get up and clean the drying cum off your stomach, can only be one thing. You might as well call Hunnigan and let her know you won’t be making it to work tomorrow.

[joffyworld]

XD seeing it drawn out like this is perfect

Another round of incorrect quotes about the bishops

Once again, I am using my headcanons in this.

Shamura, showing the picture of another god they have to kill: and this is our next objective.

Kallamar: I could take them.

Shamura: I do not doubt your abilities in combat but I do not think you could beat them in a fight.

Kallamar: a fight...? Yeah, no, I could never beat them in a duel.

Shamura: then what were you talking about?

Kallamar:

Shamura: what were you talking about

-

Leshy: Anybody got any crayons so I can color in my Ph. D.?

-

Narinder, walking in the room with the biggest tome about necromancy you can imagine: You know what I’ve realized?

Heket: Some thoughts are better left unsaid?

Narinder: Nice try, anyways-

-

Basically their last discussion before Narinder got chained:

Shamura: What is wrong with you?

Narinder: Many, many things...

Narinder: And most of them are your fucking fault.

-

Shamura, newly crowned and on their way to kill their first god: Underestimate me. That'll be fun.

-

Narinder, four years old: I want to grow up to be like Shamura!

Kallamar, already done with everything: that's called developing a socipathic disorder.

-

Leshy: Heyyy Narinder, how’s your… drink??

Narinder: What do you mean drink? It’s coffee.

Leshy: You sure?? *Looks to coffee maker*

Narinder: *Looks to coffee maker*

*Cement sitting beside the coffee maker*

Narinder:...I’m on my third fucking drink right now, I should be dead.

-

Heket: I typed "whiny bitch" into my GPS and guess what? I'm in your driveway.

Kallamar:

Heket: Vroom vroom, come out already.

-

Leshy: Cronch.

Leshy: You hear that? That's the sound of me eating sticks.

Shamura: No, don’t—

Leshy: Too late.

-

Shamura: Sorry I can’t be emotionally vulnerable with you we're in a fucking war.

-

Leshy: Hey, wanna hear a funny joke?

Narinder: I only like dark humor.

Leshy, turning the lights off: What do you call a fake noodle?

Narinder:

Leshy: An IMPASTA!

-

Leshy, first time visiting a zoo: What are they in for?

Shamura: Leshy, this isn't prison.

Leshy: So they can leave?

Shamura: No, but-

Leshy, pointing at a bird: I bet that one murdered someone.

-

Shamura: We've got to find a way to cut down our expenses. What can we live without?

Kallamar: Narinder, probably.

-

Leshy: Hey, Heket, where are you going?

Heket: Well, it depends. When I die, probably hell.

Heket: But right now I’m going to McDonald’s. Do you want an happy meal?

[deviationmaniac]

Practicing anatomy with Spy wearing a workshop cosmetic I really like.

He's a certified manwhore cutie

[mv1simp]

I am in ur walls

I have come to raise the idea of, and hear me out, Max x PR officer reader. I’m just gonna yap now, hear me out

Like can you imagine Max going through his hoe phase and reader having to clean up his image, and she’s just fondly like UGH MAX. Part of her is like blehhhhh because more work, but the bigger part of her is like ✨jealous✨

And then at some point she makes an offhand comment like if you want to be a whore, can you at LEAST not make more work for me????

Cue Max and her starting to be a thing, and him trying to rile her up enough to get her to be their own PR issue just for shits and giggles and he gets quite risque and horny and her resistance to it just turns him on even more until he’s saying and doing the filthiest shit in the middle of the paddock just to get her to crack——

Also can you imagine how hilarious it would be if they get caught and GP is like NOT YOU TOO READER LIKE DOES HE HAVE A MAGIC DICK OR SMTH——

WELCOME TO MY WALLS!!! This idea HAS ME ahahahah see I was always a crackfic writer at age 12 on wattpad, its time to remerge into the light with this prompt

Like you know how max is so millennial coded. And she’s actually the same age as him but he thinks she’s older cause she’s always looking so stressed. And she like um that’s cause you’re a fuckin manwhore max?!? Have you thought about celibacy for a hot second? And as they become better friends she demands he hand over his card so she can invest in some good skincare

(max also suggests maybe she needs to get dicked down good, he’s happy to provide that if she wants or? 🤭🤭)

But anyways she’s pumping out Gen z memes left right and centre to distract the masses from his slut era and he’s always like wdym “i have zero rizz and am a bitchless cat dad”?? I know memes?? Remember hawk thua-

ALSO WHENEVER HE REALLY TRIES TO RILE HER UP ON THE PADDOCK AND SHE CANT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT SHE MAKES HIM DO THE MOST ANNOYING SOCIAL MEDIA CHALLENGES TO GET BACK AT HIM like imagine her making him do a kiss marry kill with the drivers and he’s like 😑😑 and everyone’s like babes come here we got max Verstappen saying he’d kiss Alonso, marry charles and kill George before GTA 2024

ALSO I’m jumping the gun but after he ✨seduces her ✨ there’s so much scope for the classic shenanigans. Accidentally wearing shirts inside out. Accidentally wearing each others Redbull shirt and she could get away with oversized style but everyone’s like “max why tf are u wearing a crop top”. (GP knows. He knows and he can’t look either of you in the eye. Everyone has started asking why he loudly announces himself and waits 10 seconds before walking around the corners of the Redbull garage and he’s like…no reason. But his face is one of a man who has seen many, many things)

Anyway you have ban any contact of sexual nature after that incident that you have dubbed CropTopGate. But obviosuly that just makes max even more feral cause we know how competitive he is 😼

ALSO he’s notorious for going through personal managers as well but once you two start getting tension but you’re still all like “nooo 6 foot driver millionaires aren’t my type okayyyy 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️”

So he demands that you be promoted to his personal events manager as well. To which you are adamantly like NO knowing what this means for your poor self control but Christian Horner is like yes maxie boo 🥰 so now you also accompany max to all his lil modelling gigs, looking anywhere but at him while he stands shirtless next to you with a cocky grin.

OR LIKE IMAGINE HE AND A MODEL ARE DOING AN ADVERTISEMENT TOGETHER LIKE ONE OF THOSE SEXY PERFUME ONES. AND DURING A BREAK THE PHOTOGRAPHER NOTICES YOU AND MAX TALKING TOGETHER

and he’s like i don’t care who you are get over here NOW this sexual chemistry is insane so you end up in a very compromising pose up against max verstappen, F1 driver, cat dad, and certified slut while he’s whispering dirty things in your ear

(He catches on quick that you really likes it when he speaks Dutch, good thing you can’t understand it cause he’s just reciting his grocery list and enjoying watching you blush and squeeze your legs together)

very cute idea hehe thank you for messaging!! I LIVE for some sexual tension, reader is a better woman than me for trying to resist the advances of max 😮‍💨😮‍💨

[sword-wielding-sapphic]

1: Magic is a Metaphor < 2: Morgana is a Lesbian < 3: Merlin is Gay > 4: Arthur is Bi

Again with the whole metaphor thing, Merlin's entire character is about having to hide his identity and wishing that he could be free to be himself so that he wouldn't have to lie about how much Arthur means to him. So that's all very gay, but he's also just very queer-coded generally. There are so many jokes about him being more effeminate or wearing women's clothing, most notably in this episode where he dresses in full drag and then takes the opportunity to shamelessly flirt with Arthur. Unhinged.

Basically every other character seems to just assume that he's gay, at least towards the end, because Gaius and Arthur are in utter disbelief that Merlin would be 'seeing a girl'. And of course he isn't, he's actually sneaking around with that druid guy, leading Arthur to question how courting a girl would leave him 'walking with a limp.'

I also think it's very interesting how often Merlin has to pretend to be attracted to women to avoid people discovering his secret, like with Gwen in Series 1 or Morgana in Series 2. Or this scene, where Gwen and Merlin are the only people not affected by the Lamia's seduction charm and they're trying to figure out why. And Merlin says, 'it doesn't affect you because you're a woman'. And firstly, Gwen is like, 'so what?' So, bisexual queen. And then Merlin says, "it only affects men," and Gwen says, "so then why haven't you fallen under her spell?" And Merlin is just like, 'oh shit, I don't know. I can't think of any reason why I wouldn't be seduced by a woman.'

Now, you might be saying, "but Merlin is attracted to women! what about that one female love interest he had for literally one episode who immediately died?" Oh, you mean:

I'm sorry to all of the Freylin shippers out there, but this was so clearly just the writers' last-ditch attempt to make Merlin straight. If you think about it, Freya also 'has magic' if you catch my drift, and that is the only thing that she and Merlin have in common, and the only thing that they talk about. And if you look at their dialogue out of context, it really doesn't seem like it's magic that they're talking about. It's just gay/lesbian solidarity. Also, never forget when Colin Morgan accidentally referred to Merlin's potential love interests as "him or her." So who else could he have been thinking of?

Merlin definitely had a crush on Lancelot. From the moment that they first meet, he just keeps going on about, 'omg, isn't Lancelot so strong and brave and chivalrous? God, I hope he becomes a knight, he would look so good in a suit of armour.' And then he says to Gwen, completely unprompted, "so just for the sake of argument– Arthur or Lancelot?" Why are you thinking about that Merlin? Then that scene ends with Merlin and Lancelot getting drunk and stumbling home together and waking up the next morning having shared Merlin's single bed. So take from that what you will. I don't necessarily think that anything happened between them, not because I think Lancelot is straight, don't get it twisted, just because I think he's a fucking virgin.

But certified pansexual manwhore Gwaine on the other hand, oh they definitely fucked. And it's a very similar situation to Lancelot, Merlin's only flirting technique is just to find some buff guy who's just saved his life and be like, 'oh my god what can I possibly do to repay you? Maybe you could come back to my place and I could tend to your wounds and then we could go down to the tavern, have a few drinks'.

And it works. Merlin literally used his job as apprentice physician to the Knights of the Round Table as his own personal Grindr, and i love that for him. But, of course, these are just side hoes to Merlin's main bitch, Arthur.

You can deny everything else that I've said, but you cannot deny that Merlin was in love with Arthur. And don't even try to say, 'but it's just because it was his destiny'. Because, yeah, like that's any less gay. They're two sides of the same coin, destined to be together, Merlin 'uses magic only for Arthur'. Come on.

Also, it's pretty clear that Merlin cares about Arthur more than he cares about his destiny, throughout the entire show. But it culminates in this scene in series five where, because of very contrived plot reasons, Arthur has to choose between legalizing magic and saving the life of Mordred. And Merlin convinces Arthur not to legalise magic so that he will let Mordred die. He literally enables the genocide of his own people and condemns himself to a lifetime of suffering just on the off chance that he can spend a bit more time with Arthur.

And if that isn't heartbreaking enough, of course, every action that Merlin makes only confirms Arthur's fate. And after he very platonically dies in Merlin's arms, as dudebros do, what does Merlin do? does he go back to Camelot and live a full happy heterosexual life? Of course not. No, he spends the next one and a half thousand years just waiting at Arthur's resting place, waiting for the day that Arthur will be resurrected and they can be together again. What the fuck kind of Greek tragedy, Achilles and Patroclus level shit is that? That is fucking gay.

[heybrownieboy]

PROFILES: BROCHACHOS😮‍💨

— JEONGIN: Was known as the university’s golden child when he first enrolled on a scholarship. But, about a year ago he changed into a completely different person. Now almost as much of a party boy as Beomgyu. Likes to go to the parties to get wasted with his friends or by himself. Though he may not be an official part of the dumbass trio he definitely gets involved with their antics— which has landed him in trouble on quite a few occasions. Has never really been interested in the supernatural until lately because of Beomgyu.

— BEOMGYU: The first member and leader of the dumbass trio. Throws parties almost every weekend that end up bringing in most of the student body. Is the nosiest person ever and treats everyone else’s business like it’s his own. Has recently gotten interested in the supernatural and has a slight obsession with “Eris”.

— HEESEUNG: The second member of the dumbass trio. A slut. Has a roster that so long it would probably put Pete Davidson’s to shame. Beomgyu throws the parties and he brings the booze. Has gotten just as much into the supernatural as Beomgyu as of late.

— JIMIN: Has known Jeongin since the 8th grade. For the most part he seems to be a great guy. He’s a sweet talker that gets along with half of the campus. In reality he’s a manwhore with a roster similar to Heeseung’s.

— HANBIN: Everyone’s friend. Literally. He gets along with the whole university. Recently started dancing at Limbo. The mediator of the group. Does his best to keep everyone in check but usually ends up failing.

— SUNGCHAN: Asks himself every day why he decided to become friends with these dumbasses (minus Hanbin). A certified bad boy. Infamously known to only be nice to his gf, Minjeong. Bullies his friends and has a vendetta against Beomgyu that the rest of them find hilarious. 

— WONJIN: If Heeseung is the one bringing the booze then he’s the one drinking it. Third member of the dumbass trio. If he’s not being stupid with the other two, he’s playing video games. Constantly complaining about being bitchless.

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[makethatelevenrings]

Somewhere Only We Know // J. Tartt x f!reader

Hello and welcome to a new series that has spawned into my head in the past three days and won’t leave me alone! I refuse to apologize :)

When Rebecca and Keeley hired you as Richmond’s social media manager, you never expected your life to change like this. You thought this role would be distant, quiet, and unassuming, but the charismatic coach, friendly players, and amazing admin team sucked you into the raucous circus that was AFC Richmond.

When Jamie Tartt, asshole extraordinaire and certifiable manwhore, is brought back onto the team, you struggle to see him past the veneer of media and rumors that has tainted your vision of him. Will he be able to prove to you that he isn’t as bad as everyone says? And what happens when he begins to chip away at your ironclad walls?

A series of vignettes and one-shots in chronological order starting in season two.

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

[melled42]

Hi Melle! Just Joffy here again!

I was wondering if you had any opinions or feelings towards other popular cotl ships such as leshycat? I know Ewen and Narinder are our cunt-serving king and queen duo but I don't recall ever seeing you mention any other popular ships (although I could be wrong I've not been on Tumblr or in the community that long compared to most)

Plus I have to imagine given the somewhat messed up dynamic of Ewen and Narinder early on you'd have a field day with the God of Chaos. Let alone a certified manwhore like Kallamar since the fandom seems to have decided he's the most "promiscuous" of the bishops. And the art would certainly be... Interesting, to say the least

Thanks again for all the cute (and the not so cute 🫣) art! Big fan as I'm sure you can guess

Cheers!

the bishops just got here, we'll be going more into them after the current arc

[orangecatsmissingbraincell]

I feel like we forgot too easily about how many condoms Coach Ben brought, because he handed Travis a whole fistful

Nationals wasn’t supposed to take that long

My man is a certified manwhore

[blazingspirit]

"gokuluck is literally just malewife, manslaughter, mansplain and manwhore" -- @eveekin, certified visionary

[deathnguts]

You can all have fun with certified-manwhore-Barty but I’m gonna stick with offputting-weirdkidTM-hasgenuinetroublemakingfriends-becausehesaggressiveandbadwithpeople-Barty, thanks

[forsaken-headcanons]

I headcanon that Chance is just Dating everyone and everybody.

Because I have seen SO MANY different ships with Chance that I have just gaven up clingging onto one.

Yeah. He's a certified manwhore. I love him.

[hawkzeyes]

Clinton is a certified dumbass™ for sure but many people forget how smart that manwhore is. he is incredibly competent in the weirdest things and would rather die than admit he needs help. portraying him as either bland (MCU -.-) or uwu (fanon) is such a disservice to a very fun and complex idiot

Genuinely like common sense wise? Dumb dumb idiot

But street smarts and brain wise? Actually intelligent and it’s such a delight to see

It’s kind of insulting considering Clint’s background that ppl act like he is just some stupid pathetic thing… like you’re going to… act like the guy who was a foster child who had to struggle to survive and didn’t have access to certain educational systems that the general public did is stupid 😐 mkay champ.

He isn’t some helpless little thing. Joking is fun, I love to joke about him, but some out there are not understanding that it’s a joke.

[suicide-core]

I think the worst doctor who device for me will be the psychic paper. I'll fumble that so hard and not in the way doctor and their companions do no thats not what im talking about

Like not only do i have like 10 tabs running in my mind at one specific moment, but also because i overshare as hell so it'll be a shit scenario for everyone involved.

The conversations i have will basically go like this:

Me: and this permit will now prove that I'm a certified midwife

*hands over psychic paper

Fyodor Dostoevsky: ....this just says 'be gay do crimes get punished'?

Me: im a medicine expert and these are my credentials

*hands over psychic paper*

Catkind-nurse: what do you mean by 'pspspsps'?

Me: no need to panic! Im an expert at sinking ships. This is my id.

*hands over psychic paper*

Passenger in Titanic: ....i don't know who Jack was but I'll surely save a space for him on the door, okay?

Me: im qualified enough for these situations, here is my certification.

*hands over psychic paper*

The master: youre damn right i have manwhore privileges

PLEASE TELL ME YOU ALL GET WHAT I MEAN