#this is not a hot take. this is bootlicking

[oldshittydog]

this is what you sound like

I wish it wasn’t a hot take that a story in which two characters of any gender prioritize their purely platonic relationship over any other romantic or sexual interests they might have is a textually queer story

[gatorbites-imagines]

Mark grayson x male reader with the powers of john Constantine? Maybe Mark on a mission involving demons and after some trouble Cecil reluctantly decides to call the reader for help

Mark Grayson x Constantine Male Reader

Headcanons

Guess who’s been ignoring his exam prep and watching YouTube instead? This guy. Reader is also a little older than the other characters, but how much older you can choose for yourself.

Demons weren’t something completely out of the norm for the heroes of this world. Way too many so called villains would summon low grade demons and imps to wreak havoc. Very few were actually able to summon sentient and powerful beings.

Invincible had been sent in since theyd just thought it would be like every other weak magician who thought they could take over the world. That was until the demon that appeared was actually one of the well-known demons from the bible.

Other heroes were called in, like the newer guardians of the globe. But even they didn’t stand a chance against this demon, who was getting a little too close to civilization for the GDAs comfort.

As much as Cecil hates it, he knows he has to call you. You’ve never had any respect for the GDA, for the government, and had always insulted heroes to their face, calling them government bootlickers and the likes.

Cecil would have locked you away a while ago, if you weren’t so damn good at what you did. There was also the fact that he, and the magicians he had on hand, were pretty damn sure you could unleash hell itself on earth if you wanted, so they were cautious.

You also just happen to be kind of a dick, though mainly to Cecil. For some reason you’ve always gotten along well with Donald for a reason the GDA doesn’t understand. You just know he’s a great guy though, which is why you’ll treat him a little better.

So with great reluctance, since he knows youre gonna be rubbing this in his face and ribbing him, Cecil contacts you. He would most likely have to use some kind of spell or sigil, since there’s no way you’d share your number with this guy, or pick up if he called.

The guardians of the globe and Mark aren’t really sure what to expect when they hear Cecil sigh over their earpieces. He sounds more exhausted and agitated than any of them have ever made him, which says a lot.

Cecil barely gets to explain who you are before you swagger out of a portal in your trench coat and a to-go coffee cup in your hand with your preferred drink.

Immortal and Robot are probably the only ones who know who you are. Immortal cuz hes worked with you in the past, and Robot cuz he’s a creep that knows too much, and there’s no way he wouldn’t know about someone as powerful as you.

The heroes would already be over your shit, since you paid way too much for this drink to let it go to waste. So, you are gonna stand here, and you are gonna finish your drink, and then you are gonna help.

Mark must acknowledge that you are pretty hot, with your exhausted features and the tired but knowing look in your eyes. Its like you know exactly what you are looking at, and like you know exactly what to do.

The heroes get thrown around a bit more, just for your own humor and cuz you know they can take it. them yelling at you in frustration just makes you pick at your nails and sass them, telling them you came here out of the goodness of your heart, and you feel so attacked right now?

Its only when Mark crashes into the ground right beside you, and this cute traffic light yellow guy with cracked goggles and a bloody nose politely asks you to help that you decide, sure, why not. It’s also definitely because of the cute pout on his lips and the puppy eyes he’s giving you form the crater he’s in.

You give him what’s left of your too expensive drink, telling him some flirty comment about “watch and learn, invincible”. You make air quotes with your fingers when you use his hero name, since nobody is invincible, even viltrumites. You know this since you’ve stumbled across quite a lot of them in hell over the years.

His small blush is very cute though, which makes you decide to wrap this up real quick.

To none of Cecil’s surprise. You know this demon, and it owes you a pretty big favor. You don’t use your favor obviously, why would you do that? Theres better things to use a demons favor for. Instead, you just use a good chunk of spells, sigils, and other magic arts to cast them back to hell.

Cue some complaining from multiple members of the guardians of the globe. If you could do that from the very beginning, why did you keep watching them get thrown around like that?

As they complain and argue around you, you just swagger back to where Mark was sitting cutely and sipping on your drink. It shouldn’t shock you a guy like him likes whatever sweet monstrosity you bought. Fits his cute smile at least.

Immortal doesn’t even argue with you, knowing its like talking to a damn wall. Except the wall claps back, and will be petty enough not to help you next time.

It also doesn’t shock Cecil when you ask Mark out for lunch, since you’re a known flirt. You also may be a flirt, but you are damn loyal, so he can’t even say to Mark you’re a bad partner.

Marks eyes widen comically, sputtering around the drink he had been nursing when you just dropped that on him. His face goes bright red, since no one has ever actually asked him out, especially so boldly.

He fumbles for a bit, but he does end up stuttering out a yes. He doesn’t know you too well yet, and neither do you know him, but what could lunch together hurt? So he ends up clutching your number, and sigil, on a piece of paper in his hand, as you portal away again.

The place is still a damn mess from the demon’s rampage, but Mark feels extra weightless as he helps clean up, not even really paying attention to some of the others complaining about how you left without helping clean up.

[funstyle]

for you page simulator

👽 that-one-crazy-disney-mama Follow

[screenshot of a tweet thats a screenshot of a tumblr post]

#196 #humor

🎼 character-playlist-polls Follow

Would [youtuber name] from [dense minecraft roleplay series] listen to Songs About Fucking (1987) by Big Black?

0 votes

🕊️sobelizardjuiceofficial Follow

i just hallucinated god telling me joan baez was "without a doubt smashing bob dylan prostate somethin delirious" back in the day

👹 specificthingyoureintofan Follow

[post abt niche thing you like] [u cant interact w this person bc u have decided they dont like u which is based fully in ur own insecurity]

#am i the only one who gives a fuck abt [thing you like] omg.

👼 mutual294 Following

Having weed marijana panicattack

[HUGE AD THAT STOPS PLAYING YOUR MUSIC FOR SOME REASON]

🤍 traumawaif2010 Follow

[picture of a wrist] pre-algabra test today im nervuss guyss >_< drinking sum tea out of a single raspberry to fuel my tiny innocent delacite porcelin girlbody ♡

#coquette #thincore #lana del rey #mentally ill child #white aesthetic #nymph3t #republican childbride aesthetic #female rage #4n0r3x14 #triggering post written by child #something really sad is happening dont think abt it too hard #girlhood

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Does anyone else wonder if the blues brothers explored each others bodies

#'theyre brothers' so.

👾 mutual572 Following

out of pills should i shoot myself. i will not be finishing fic im writing where dan and phil are jfk and jackie o tonite

🔥 pervertdepot Follow

Hey i know its the middle of the day but you ever think about like effeminate guys on their knees whimpering choking bound wrists sobbing hot wet doe eyed nerdsex mommykitten fucked stupid drooling writhing in pain desperate needy slut leaking hard cock helpless pornmoans slapped flushed pitiful pussyeating nose gfd joi s&m cvs submissive bootlick strapgagged spit on begging sucking big tits milfdomme goodboy sex torture

#wjere am i

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[clearly ai generated image]

Ancient clown bones excavated in South France.

👻 mutual946 Following

did anyone notice i got way hotter after i quit taking my lamictal..... its giving gods plan kinda

🦄 fandomsexual-in-the-tardis Follow

i caant stop crying no matter what i do i cant fuckig win. last time i got kicked off the discord server for talking about my israeli sans undertale headcanon (even though it literally helps me cope with my chronic morgellons). and now im getting kicked out of the southpark fandom? bc apparently a 42 year old sapiosexual cant send dms anymore? this is why were losing third spaces. ive had it up to here with the puriteens 🙄

#eric dont look #kyle dont look #captains log #queue me up scotty #sex negativity #proship

��� icecube-rp Follow

im meltinggg :( aaahhhhh

[hollogramhallucination]

they owe me reparations for slavery, indentured servitude, physical/sexual abuse of family members, torture of family members, murder of family members, and generational trauma.

this ignorant loser sits on a grotesque throne borne of bloodshed and unprecedented international cruelty.

run me my check you spineless inbred parasites.

Parasite in chief in his idiot hat

[heartfullofleeches]

BootLicker ♡

Sub Yan + G.N Reader

Summary: You come home to the mess your partner made, getting it all over your new shoes.

Warnings: Humiliation, slightly suggestive, mentions of blood and light gore.

"Name."

They avert their gaze. Your legs cage them to their spot on the floor; body positioned in the chair where their crimes were committed. The room is hot with the stench of death, chemicals and their silence. You snarl.

"Name."

"...Noah."

"Noah... Noah.." You bounce your leg as you think, the sole of your shoe squelching from the gore that surrounds it. "Ah- that sweet guy who upsized my order at the lunch for free last week? Couldn't recognize him when you dyed those pretty blond locks in his own fluids."

Your pet remains quiet; veins popping out their skin as they grip their jeans.

"Should've known... It wasn't the most flattering thing to receive a number in my cup, but that doesn't mean you had to do what you did, now does it?"

"He deserved it.."

You point their own blade at their face. "Did I say you could talk?" That shuts them up. Leaning back, you mock. "Deserved it. Just like that nice police officer that let me off the hook that one time, or the person who returned me lost key. You're such a restless, disobedient pet, but if there's one thing you can do well, its clean up."

You shift one leg over the other, beads of coagulated blood splattering on the floor. "I just bought these yesterday.. Would've looked amazing with the outfit I had planned for this weekend.... You know what to do, don't you?"

They nod. Scooting closer, your partner stares up at you as they take the first lick across the bottom of your shoe. The metallic taste is one they've grown accustomed to from previous punishment, but even this was a new horizon. They clean between each crevices with their tongue, going over the thinner lines twice over to get every drop of crimson that had not yet dried. You press down on their face as they work their way to the heel; bloody saliva staining their face with a spattered flush. You continue to push until their neck hangs back at an odd again, letting up once they finish and return to the tip of your boot.

You pedal the shoe against their tongue, flooring it to their lower jaw. They attempt still to clean and even begi to suckle the blood soaked laces. Your icy star tells them to continue, and further drives their descent into a euphoric downward spiral the devil saves only for the most depraved sinners. While unsatisfied with their earlier display of affection, this one benefit you both on a whole new level. You yank your shoe free as their hand moves in between their legs.

"Later. Continue."

They eagerly comply, diving to the floor and wrapping their hands around your ankle as they sweep up the layer of film on the service of your shoe. They use the skin to skin contact to display their love without words, caressing the back of your calf. You push them off with your other shoe, the filth coating that one dripping into their hair.

"I think its time you switch over. Unlike our guest, I still have both of my feet."

[silver-ink-iron-words]

i love your writing SO much <3 i've read EVERYTHING you've written, and every time i see another snippet by you come up on my dash it brightens my day instantly! if you're still open for requests, can i ask for one where the hero decides to keep the villain imprisoned to prrotect the public, but ends up developing feelings for them? tysm!!!

Oh wow this makes me so happy! Thank you for the prompt request :)

----

“Hey there, bootlicker,” the villain said, their eyes closed.

“How’s it going, criminal?” The hero settled onto the chair just outside the villain’s cell.

On the other side of the glass, the villain laid on their cot perpendicular to the hero. The hero tried not to focus on the sharp outline of their profile.

The villain’s dark hair had gotten long and scraggly, and their clothes were wrinkled. Yet they somehow didn’t come off as messy. Rather, they looked artistic. Misunderstood. Revolutionary.

The paintings the villain had done in captivity helped the image. Canvases awash in vibrant colors were littered all over the floor.

“Do you need more paint?” the hero asked.

“I wouldn’t mind some gouache,” the villain said. “I’ve been thinking I should experiment with a different style.”

The villain’s head rested on their pillow in such a way that their long neck was fully exposed. It looked scandalous. Like they were in an old film about vampires.

The hero was most certainly not thinking about what they’d do if their mouth was on that neck.

“I’ll see what I can do,” the hero said. “Sorry I can’t get you more supplies.”

It hadn’t always been like this. Back when the villain was out there taking hostages and destroying buildings, it had been easy to hate them. And when the hero had first started visiting the villain’s cell, it had mainly been just to check that the city’s greatest menace was still securely confined.

But then the villain had been friendly. They had no one else to talk to, after all. And when they were friendly, they were so very . . .

The villain cracked open an eye and smiled. “Ah, don’t worry about it. The more often I’m missing something, the more often you visit me.”

The hero fought the urge to fidget. Yeah, they were so very that.

“There’s some topside news, again,” the hero said, after clearing their throat. “[Supervillain] and [Vigilante] are dating.”

The villain’s grin widened, and they turned their head a bit to glance at the hero. “Well that’s nice. They deserve – ”

“What is that?”

The villain turned fully to the wall, but not before the hero saw their eyes widen.

The hero stood from their chair. “[Villain], what was that on your face?”

Up until that point, half the villain’s face had been hidden. But before the villain had turned, the hero had thought they’d caught a glimpse of . . .

“[Villain], show me right now.”

The villain chuckled a bit. “I always underestimate you, don’t I darling?”

“[Villain], now. Or I’m coming in there.”

With a beleaguered sigh, the villain rose from their cot and turned around. They stood before the hero with their arms crossed.

An angry cut. A split lip. A sickening purple bruise that snaked all the way from the villain’s jaw to their eyebrow.

“Who did this to you?”

“Consider for a moment that I may have had a reason for not wanting you to know – ”

“Who?”

A surprised expression dashed across the villain’s face, before being suppressed by a smirk. “What, do you love me or something?”

“That wasn’t an answer to my question.”

The villain’s smirk grew. “No, but the look on your face is certainly an answer to mine.”

The hero’s cheeks went hot. “I swear to god, if you – ”

“Don’t you want to know if I reciprocate?”

“What?”

The villain stalked closer. They grinned. “Don’t you want to know whether or not I stay awake at night thinking about you?”

The hero swallowed. The villain was teasing them. They had to be.

The villain’s grin widened. “Promise to drop this business about my face, and I’ll tell you everything.”

[ceasarslegion]

What about me attracts the most brain dead dumbass bad faith comment sections ever seen. My takes arent even that hot or radical. I'll say "i dont think everyone who has netflix is a neoliberal bootlicker" and people will imply that ive never worked a day in my life and come from generational wealth and i'll read that with my own two eyes in the middle of the subway commute to work that i cant afford the fare for in the city that i moved to because the dystopian level violent crime rate made the rent cheaper. What the hell

[garagepaperback]

mistake

Malfoy’s a giddy drunk, giggly, a lot of energy. A lot. He can’t get hard the fourth time and insists they try some healing instead. He actually calls it that.

Cross-legged in bed, the lists are drawn up (he’s not embarrassed at all about it. He kisses Harry sloppily anyway, bleary, sighing oh well into his mouth. He slides two fingers in there too despite there being very little vacancy left - Harry's mouth is already quite full with Malfoy’s tongue and all the incessant talking. It’s unreasonably hot and if Harry wasn't equally rat-arsed, he probably would’ve been desperately hard about it.) after Malfoy comes back from finding a biro and a half-wet quill somewhere, even though this is Harry’s flat. 

Malfoy makes himself laugh twice and finishes first which surprises Harry none at all. He's barely made it to third year when Malfoy shoves his scrap of notebook paper down, covering Harry's. The quill punched through the page in some areas; using the mattress as a desk probably hadn’t been the best idea, but then again, the same could be said for every inch of the whole thing. 

Harry looks down.

The bathroom

Stealing my wand

quidditch

dying

6th year (bathroom)

It looks like he’s spent the majority of his time drawing little diamonds for the bullet points. They are, by far, the most elaborate thing on the page. Harry says, holding it up to his face. “You wrote bathroom twice."

“You fucked up twice,” Malfoy replies haughtily, a little bit laughing. His face is so pink. Like frosting begging to be licked off. “You didn’t do something and then you did do something. That’s two,” he holds a fist up to his mouth, blinking. It takes him a moment, maybe, to remember, “wrongs.”

The word 'quidditch' is closer to a hippopotamus-shaped smudge than to language itself. Harry puts the paper to the side and goes to grab for his own but Malfoys beat him to it. 

He does a shit impression of reading - he actually moves his head back and forth as he goes (Harry’s written: ‘bullying Ron’, ‘making fun of me’, ‘being racist toward Hermione’, ‘being a classist fuck’, ‘being a blood supremacist fuck’, ‘bootlicking’ ‘actively upholding a power structure you know hurts people just because it was beneficial for you’. Or, with the last one, he’s made the attempt. After power it sort of just dissolves into a wiggly, vaguely disappointed line.).

There’s barely enough time for him to get through half of it and Malfoy says “Pfft,” before he tosses the page off to the side. It floats gently down and stays quite near them both.

“You can’t just pfft this stuff.” Harry says, alarmed that he is sort of finding it funny. "It happened."

“I know that.” Malfoy says, and pats Harry's unfinished list condescendingly. “We can just keep it over here. We both know already - we don’t have to.” He makes a circular gesture, loopy, elegant hand, like, around and around. He gestures at the crumpled page again. "Those are just things that happened a long time ago." He looks far too pointedly at Harry, staring, and lifts a finger in the air. It lands on Harry's nose. "This is an alive thing. Happening."

A little baffled, lost and still ambiently turned on, Harry insists, “What about healing or whatever."

But Malfoy's already crawling over and on top of him, the pages a crux crunching under his knees. He does a clumsy and frustratingly hot job of kissing him. An alive thing, all over.

for day 23 of @microficmay

[vally-vall-vall]

Hello, Forgive me for spamming your blog. I saw your pfp was tfp megatron and then realized your blog was as high quality as the pfp. 👌

My ask is whats your fave transformer and from what universe?

Ah, no worries! I'm glad to hear my blog is filled with scrumptious content! About who is my favourite tansformer. Well, it would be easier to answer who isn't my favourite ifbvkdjfv

I'm a TFP girlie through and through. Prime has been my comfort show since like 2011 and I continue to rewatch it year after year even now. I have indulged in other Transformers media, too, most notably the Bay movies, War for Cybertron, Robots in Disguise and the OG series, tho nothing would come even close to my love for TFP. I truly do think this is the best Transformers incarnation in franchise ever created.

About the fav character (aside from the obvious picks like Optimus and Megatron), this is mega hard for me because all of them are so good dfhvbihvfb. I think I could narrow it down to a few, neither is placed higher or lower than the other because I love them all for different reasons.

Ratchet. Absolutely love this grumpy old fart. He's what started my love for the "grumpy character who pretends they don't care but actually care A LOT" character archetype. He's everything I love and nothing I don't, plus I do think that Jeffrey Combs was made to be his VA in a similar way Robert Downey jr. was born to play Iron Man

Starscream. I will be honest, it actually took me some time before I started to like his character instead of just seeing him as an annoying bootlicker. I mean, he's still an annoying bootlicker, but I came to enjoy him! OG Starscream walked so TFP Starscream could run. He's all of his old traits but amplified and made better. His scheeming, cunning nature, inability to shut up to the point the show itself calls him out for it (Operation Bumblebee) but at the same time, he's a pathetic coward. A wet cat of a man, soggy af. I do think if the show came out in recent years that tumblr would have a field day with him. 10/10 I miss Starscreams like him

Smokescreen. This may or may not be a hot take because he's apparently pretty unpopular with the fandom?? At least he was in like 2012-2015 when I was most active in the fandom. I actually really do enjoy his recklessness and immaturity, it makes him feel more like a youngster that's yet to see the horrors of war. I love how quickly he grows throughout the episodes when he comes to realise their fight isn't about personal glory, it's about survival and about doing what is right. 9/10 because I hate the updated painjob he got in season 3

Miko. Also kind of a hot take, since she seems to be the least favourite among the kid trio. I gotta be honest, TFP is the only Transformers incarnation where I actually like the human companions, and Miko I love the most. She's reckless and bold and immature, like any "punk" teenager of her age would be, and I also absolutely adore the bond she has with Bulkhead.

KnockOut. My first ever experience with a character that was so violently queer-coded it rearanged by neural pathways. Loved him since his very first scene. The sass, the execution, his mad doctor persona, obsession with looks, surprisingly scheeming nature, he's just so full of personality. I also love how he's actually canonically married to BreakDown. My only gripe with the character is that I wished he was depicted to mourn BreakDown more instead of, like, just mentioning he's annoyed that he now has nobody to buff him. But also this was a pre-Steven Universe show back when queer characters weren't as prominent in kids media, so I get why it wasn't implimented. I'm still salty about it though

Arcee. Arcee I had to grow to love, and it didn't happen until several years after the show has ended. At the start, I found her to be a deeply unenjoyable character, grumpy and cold and dismissive towards everyone (and especially Jack) and not in the fun way Ratchet was. However, as I aged, I came to realise that she's not just being an asshole, she's grieving. This is one of the key reasons why I love TFP. It tackles serious topics like death and grief very well for an animated kids show that was mostly made to promote a toy brand, and Arcee's character really shines here. I deeply enjoy seeing her come out of her shell after Cliffjumper's death and slowly form a deep loving bond not only with Jack, but with everyone else too. Also how she helps Miko out with her own grief after Bulkhead gets seriously injured. You know what that is? Growth. Nothing but growth and healing for my sassy two-wheeler.

"Funny. At first I never thought I'd get used to Cliff's constant chatter. But now? Now there's nothing louder to me than the silence."

Bro, this sentence is burned into my memory. Forever. It altered my brain chemisty, I swear. Arcee and her grief over Cliff and Tailgate are so well portrayed and it makes one of the best written characters on the show and I will die on this hill!!

[hag-lad]

RANKED: MY TOP TEN FAVORITE NANDAMURI TARAKA RAMA RAO JR LOOKS

Us Jr NTR fans are blessed to have quite the chameleon oosaravelli as our fave, because there are so many glorious looks to keep us entertained over his illustrious 30-film career. It was SO GODDAM HARD to choose just ten, but here they are! Gun to my head! His ten finest looks!

10. Krishna's pink shirt in Brindavanam

I remember when these "fcuk" shirts were all the rage, but nobody ever wore it quite like Krishna! He looks sooooo good in pink! What a little hottie. With the earrings too?!!?! Goddam it. Just. Goddam this man.

9. Kusa's mullet for Doschestha

Styling wise, I feel nothing towards this, except maybe a spark of delight to see Tarak in pink yet again. But look, Kusa does not know how to dress, and I love that for him. This look is all about THE HAIR!!!! We never see Tarak with hair this long, but it's so fucking GOOD!!!!!! The little ponytail!!!!!!!! How could one not fall in love?!

8. Simhadri's fishnet vest for Chinnadamme Cheekulu

Oh go OFF, King!!!!!!!! Look at the sheer, unfiltered ATTITUDE he's serving! Absolutely no one on Earth looks good in light-dark wash jeans (the true blight of the 2000's) but this son of a bitch pulls it off!!!! How does he do it?!

7. Munna's saffron headband in Andhrawala

Okay, so conceptually, this is the same thing as Simhadri (headband, open shirt, slutty vest, jeans) but I prefer these colors! I also prefer Munna's facial hair; it's a little more grown out, and I love Tarak most when he is FURRY. And FAT! I think Munna's got a couple pounds on Simhadri? Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't care. I love them both so much.

6. Jai's Swing Zara ensemble in Jai Lava Kusa

God, Jai is such a fucking peacock, isn't he? A total queen, the last of the old school gays. I have so much respect for his drip. Jai would never, ever, in a million years, let mortal eyes witness him looking anything less than spectacular. His beard is groomed, his hair is moussed, every stitch of clothing on his body is tailored and professionally pressed, and you know what? I think that goes for his underwear too. Or idk, maybe he's freeballin' it. He can do whatever he wants, quite frankly.

5. Tarak's Academy Awards ensemble

Who on earth would dare deny how positively GORGEOUS Tarak looked on this night!? Head to toe, so exquisite, so dashing. The bejeweled tiger! The rich black velvet! The eye makeup! The natural hair! Everything to love.

4. Tony's baby face in Oosaravelli

I want to just grab his widdol cheeks and squish them!!! He looks like an angel! A cherub!!!! This is so obviously the cutest Tarak has ever looked, but he's still so fucking sexy and alluring??!?! HOW DOES HE DO IT???!!?!! I also love that liiiiiitle bit of edge he's giving with the earrings and the neck tattoo... even if it is just his own name, lmfao.

3. Ramakrishna's tank top in Rakhee

Look at this fucking BEAR!!!!!!!! I'm not gonna sugarcoat this, kids. Ramakrishna is fluffy and hot and sweaty and I bet he smells salty and I want to HUFF him so fucking bad. The lil beads of sweat take me out, god I love how raw and sexy and manly he is. Absolute HUNK, I fucking cannot say it any other way. This is a gay pornstar. I beat my meat.

2. Young Yama in Yamadonga

Oh COME ONNNN!!!! THIS is how His Majesty Nandamuri Taraka Rama Rao Jr. was meant to walk the earth: Clad in gold, dripping with jewels, eyeliner on fleek (or, as my mother would say, "on flique") just taking up ALL THE SPACE and commanding ALL THE ATTENTION. He wears regality so very well, so naturally, I become a bootlicking monarchist just looking at him!!! Drag me to hell, Young Yama!!!

1. Komuram Bheem's langoti in RRR.

Hey, you knew Bheema had to be number one!!!! I've never seen a human being look hotter than this, this is just PEAK. The body hair!!!! The nosering!!!!! The muscles!!!!!! He is fucking CUT, Tarak had to work so goddam hard for so long to look like this, I genuinely hope he never does anything like this again, but MY GOD the art is worth it. Shoutout to Rajamouli for not whitewashing him so we could behold the beauty and majesty of his real skin color!!!!! With his natural hair too!!?!?!? SEXIEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED, case closed, no argument, go home, we're done. Bheem is hot. Ram's a lucky man.

[machoestofmen]

technically i should be sleeping rn but AIGHT BET, touching prompt 34 with gerhilde von egilmar x hilde 👀

Fandom: Soul Calibur Pairing: Hilde/Gerhilde Touch prompt: 34 (Washing the other's body)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Though normal circumstances would have dictated that a team of castle servants were to ready a bath for Princess Hildegard, it was instead but one woman who was doing it today; captain of the royal guard, Gerhilde, had been working like a madwoman to get all of the water hot, to gather the proper number of sponges, and was grinding her teeth to the bottom of her chin while stressing over whether she brought Her Highness her favorite soaps, both the lavender-and-elderflower lye soap for washing her body and the bar of milder stuff to shave into another basin of hot water so Her Highness could wash her hair when she was done with the bath.

Why was she working so hard on something that would normally be considered beneath one of her station? Well, that would be her blaming herself for Princess Hildegard's current state; there had been another series of attacks by malfested, and while Gerhilde led one group of soldiers and Her Highness led the other to form a pincer maneuver around the malfested, there had been another troop of them that blindsided Gerhilde's unit. Casualties were minimal thanks to quick thinking on Gerhilde's part, but when she had been knocked to the ground by a malfested with a sword and shield and was about to be slain by one with a massive axe, it was the Princess who saved her life. Her Highness had made a whip-around that looked incredibly painful and hurled her spear so hard that it impaled both of the malfested, all in one motion, and Princess Hildegard certainly felt it once the adrenaline and the rush of battle faded. Between having sweated like a racehorse and leaving herself stiff and sore, Her Highness was in desperate need of a hot bath to clean and relax.

Thus, Gerhilde taking responsibility for every little thing that went wrong and taking it upon herself to right as many wrongs as she could, imagined or otherwise.

She had little time to continue fretting when she heard the footsteps of her princess enter her private royal chamber. Whatever she had done by then would have to be good enough. "Your Highness," Gerhilde announced, "I have readied your bath to the be–"

Right in front of Gerhilde and perhaps God, the one and only Princess Hildegard von Krone was casting her robes aside and had halfway gotten out of her undergarments before Gerhilde processed what she was seeing. The Princess was soon stark naked, and Gerhilde was just as soon red as a rose.

"Erm… Gerhilde, is something the matter?"

"O-of course not," Gerhilde sputtered out hurriedly, "I am simply surprised at your readiness to already get into the bathtub, which I assure you is at the perfect temperature to soothe aching muscles as much as it is to scrub the day away from your skin–"

"Gerhilde," Hilde got out, but was promptly ignored.

"–which is easily the finest in all of Wolfkrone, amazingly supple for one who so often engages in battle, not to mention–"

"Gerhilde!"

The captain had gotten quite lost in her... whether Hilde would call it fawning or bootlicking was a matter of debate, but at least it had apparently distracted Gerhilde enough for the royal to slip into the fine copper bathtub before getting Gerhilde to snap to attention. Once Gerhilde had stopped blathering, Hilde sighed as she allowed herself to relax in the warm water. It was almost too hot, being a tad uncomfortable, but Hilde recognized that it would be good for her in the long run. She held out a hand, asking for a sponge and bar of soap, and lathered them up before getting down to business. Though Hilde managed to wash her limbs well enough, her fatigue from battle was already rearing its ugly head again, and she got the sponge wet and soapy again before offering it to Gerhilde. "Would you be so kind as to wash me the rest of the way, Gerhilde? I am simply too sore to finish myself..." she pleaded.

Oh. Oh, oh, oh no, oh no no no, Gerhilde could never, that was far too intimate–

Gerhilde took the sponge in her hand, and Her Highness leaned forward in the tub, exposing her back. "Certainly, Your Highness, it is the least I could do for you after our latest battle against the malfested."

"I told you already, that was not your fault. You can make every correct decision and still lose the fight, you are not to blame for the malfested showing up as they did. Now, if you would?"

Gerhilde audibly swallowed a mouthful of nothing. "Y-yes."

The sponge was already warm, but Princess Hildegard's skin was even warmer, and Gerhilde could feel it. As she gently scrubbed at where she imagined Hilde was the dirtiest, Gerhilde had to begin talking again, lest she succumb to the acute awareness that she was this close to her princess, both a royal and a general, who held herself with an air of majesty surpassing even King George himself–

"Gerhilde, you speak your thoughts aloud, and while it is quite flattering how highly you think of me, I am too filthy to be concerned with your opinions about my grace."

For the second time that evening, Gerhilde was mortified, but Her Highness saved the day yet again with "Perhaps my neck and shoulders could be next?"

"Absolutely," Gerhilde said hurriedly, thankful for her train of thought being broken again. As she started to wash Her Highness again, Gerhilde could not help herself. "I must say that your musculature befits a warrior-princess, and deserves the utmost care, which I can only hope to offer. Such strength you have for your size, in your back–"

"Gerhilde."

"–and your shoulders, bearing the weight of two weapons at once–

"Gerhilde."

"–not to mention your pectorals, and all the power within them–"

"Gerhilde!" barked the Princess. "Stop for a moment, and pay attention to where you have your hands."

Gerhilde blinked, looking down, and saw that her fingers that weren't even wrapped around the sponge were buried in–

Th-they were buried in Her Highness'–

Buried in Her Highness' cleavage–

Gerhilde withdrew her hand so fast that she made a splash of hot water all over the floor, but she ignored it in favor of closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Your Highness," she said apologetically, "I formally request permission to hurl myself from the highest battlement of the castle instead of continuing to live with the shame of knowing that I unwittingly fondled you."

"The court hears your request, and has opted to deny it," Hilde returned, smiling a little. She turned around to look over her shoulder, her warm brown eyes meeting Gerhilde's steel gray ones. "Understand that I said to pay attention, I never said for you to stop," she said suggestively, and immediately regretted it when Gerhilde's eyes rolled into the back of her head and fainted.

Hilde sighed. Perhaps she would just have to wait for the bath to relax her enough to let her finish...

[vividdreamer]

i knew media literacy was in major decline but i also think being immune to psychic damage is in decline because i can't bear to see any more of these "hot takes." from now on if you are going to bootlick a corporation you need to leave a content warning.

[chimerarachnid]

In the morning when I leave my den I moisturize with the tears of men stir my tea with a crucifix I’m an ugly nasty commie bitch

In the evening, when I’m on the rag I rip up a couple of American flags Take a nice hot bath in the blood of the rich I’m an ugly nasty commie bitch

I try to think but it hurts my brain so I have an abortion & a fine champagne I’m a jezebel, I’m the wicked witch I’m an ugly nasty commie bitch

Weekends when I want some fun castrate a man, take away his guns Drive a classic car into a ditch I’m an ugly nasty commie bitch

I know I am but what are you? Some fascist bootlick nazi tool? a whiny boy with a tiny dick? or a dumbfuck redneck backward hick?

Did I get it right? Have I pegged you yet? maybe we don’t know who we ain’t met Maybe nobody wins but the already rich If you’re a dumb redneck & I’m a commie bitch

[kazhanko-art]

Hot take: the people who say you’re a terrible person for not empathizing with the billionaires who died in a tin can 4,000 ft below, and the people who call you a bootlicker for empathizing with the billionaires who died in a tin can 4,000 ft below, are both annoying

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Quitting Time

Warnings: sciatica and chronic pain, sexual harassment, and some possible unmentioned triggers.

Character: Tony Stark

Summary: You're stranded at the office with an unwanted companion.

Request for song Time Comes in Roses by Bess Atwell.

As always, I appreciate all kinds of feedback. A like and reblog means so much to me! <3

You check your watch. Subtly, as to not let on your impatience. You sit at a table among several other executives and your fearless, if not relentless leader, one Tony Stark. It’s after nine o’clock. You’re not impressed.

“Government contracts are bullshit,” Caswell leans back in his chair with a haughty snort, “private contractors all the way. If it works for hospitals–”

“Private contracts will use that shit to con old ladies into the hospital,” Tony retorts.

“You’re the only hold out, Stark, we all have a share.”

“I’m Tony Stark and I have the ultimate say,” Stark insists as he leans a hand on the table, fingers spread wide, “and I’m not the only one. If you stopped talking for one second you’d know our fifth member hasn’t given her vote.”

Caswell rolls his eyes, almost his whole head. You run a manicured nail along the edge of your leather folio.

“I agree with Stark.”

“Teh,” Caswell scoffs, “of course she does. Bootlicker.”

“Excuse you, I’m the only reason he didn’t send missiles to Canada.”

“I still might,” Tony kids.

You fight to suppress your agitation. You can’t stand this stiff chair much longer. As the years go by, these meetings grow more and more unbearable. Not just the politics but the endless inactivity.

“Three against two, we still have the majority.”

“Add your shares up, Cas,” Tony snaps, “you can do the math, can’t you?”

The three men groan and snort and spit in disappointment. None of you hold enough shares to override the CEO. The board is a farce, truly. A shell to give an illusion of equity and ethics. You don’t know why you ever wanted to sit at the boys’ table, it didn’t do much but give you sciatica.

“Now, I was due for a neat scotch about twenty minutes ago so if you would excuse yourselves, I got some catching up to do,” Tony dismisses with a clap.

You exhale, letting the tension ease from you. Home, your bed, maybe even a hot bath before you settle down with a wine to help you sleep. 

The other men rise, pushing their chairs against the table with unrestrained frustration. You push yourself up and close the leather folder around your tablet. The rest of the board wastes no time in fleeing, a few muttered words towards Stark as he fiddles with his phone.

You bend your legs and grab your purse, a groan escaping your lips as you straighten once more. That twinge in your hip makes your leg buckle. You put a hand against the table and right yourself.

“Everything good there, primrose?” Tony peeks up above his cell.

“Good,” you assure him, refusing to react to the name he often hurls at you. Better than tight-ass you suppose. 

You strut slowly to the door and another pang shoots up your back. You catch yourself against the transparent wall and curse. Couldn’t hold out just a few minutes longer? Just another layer peeling away with the erosion of age. As if you’re not acutely aware of the silver strands and the thin lines around your eyes.

“You sure about that?” Tony nears and touches your arm, “old tennis injury?”

“Mmm, something like that,” you push yourself away from the wall and try to take another step. You trip as your hip radiates with agonizing fire, “fuck me.”

Tony chuckles and catches you. He casually snakes his arm under yours and around your back, directing you to one of the chairs as he spins it around. He helps you sit as you drop onto the seat with a growl.

“Take a minute, prim,” he tucks away his phone, “I’m sure the old man can wait.”

Your eyes list away derisively. You reach down to knead your lower back. You tilt your head against the leather and cluck.

“I just need a minute. I can let myself out. Don’t want to impede on your scotch tasting.”

“Speaking of, I think a shot might do you well, huh, primrose.”

“No, thank you,” you stretch out your leg and whimper. Holy shit, you feel your hip click against your tailbone. 

“You sure? Come on, let down your hair for once.”

You give him a look, the one that withers most men. He only laughs. He pulls out another chair and sits. His eyes watch your left hand as you bring it up to rest in your lap.

“Thought you were hitched, prim.”

“Engaged. Not anymore.”

“Ah, too bad. Makes sense though, not a lot of guys go for the no-shit kinda gal like you.”

You puff out and grip the arms of the chair. You need to go. You can’t stand his arrogance. It’s just making you tense up even more.

“So, you’re not married, not promised, does that mean you’re single?”

“It means I’m not looking,” you rebuff.

He snickers again. He’s always amused by you, even as others squirm. You swipe your hand across your forehead and blow out another breath.

“You know, I give great massages,” he offers, “had a masseuse, she showed me a few things. Lots of things actually.”

“Ugh,” you curl your lip.

“I could loosen you up, prim, get you back to operating. Kind my specialty, you know? I bring things to life with these very hands,” he presents his fingers, admiring them himself.

“You’ll only make it worse,” you snip.

“Maybe? But uh, you’re not looking too good. So, I’m thinking there’s two options here. You let me rub you down a bit. You get a little bit of relief and I finally get to answer that eternal question that’s been floating around all these years.”

“What’s that?”

“If you’re really a cyborg under all that,” he tweaks a brow, “my money is on no but you know, Harvey is really convinced–”

“What’s the other option?” You bark.

“Well, the other option was my original offer, scotch. Double would do, it’s a vintage.”

You scowl. He’s right in that you don’t have much of a choice. You’re too scared to try standing again. Not yet. 

“Scotch,” you answer bluntly.

“Great,” he snaps his fingers and stands, “once we get some of that in ya, I’m sure option one will look a lot better.”

“You’re not touching me, Stark,” you growl as he sweeps around the chair.

“We’ll see about that,” he calls back as he struts out the door.

[acapelladitty]

The Sandman - Bootlicking 🥾

Summary: In a moment of foolishness, the Corinthian spits at Hob Gadling and Dream sets out a very appropriate punishment.

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

It was Hob who instigated the disagreement but the Corinthian who paid the price as, in a moment of pure irritation, he spat at the feet of the arrogant human who had succeeded in getting a rise from him.

The ice-cold voice of Dream rang out from his obsidian throne as both men stilled.

“You have disgraced yourself, Corinthian.”

Shame welling deep in his chest, the Corinthian did not dare to glance at his disappointed master. Instead, the Corinthian fixed Hob Gadling with a look which many had come to know in the final few moments prior to their arterial spray littering the chilled air before them. It was a look that promised a sweet violence, one carved into his very being.

The resounding crack which echoed through the vast chamber stirred memories of smashing marble – a thick, dense collision which left no doubt in those gathered that the Corinthian’s jaw was dislocated in place as he struck the ground hard.

Dazed, a low whine escaped the Corinthian’s busted lip as vivid crimson dripped to stain the floor below. His eyes rose to flick a very blurred gaze between Dream and Hob; the openly shocked face which decorated Hob’s expressive features at odds with the utter void of Dream’s stoniness.

“Come. Clean the mess you have made or lose your ability to do so again.” Dream warned, his power effortless rolling off his slim frame like the dark waves which crashed on the shores of Nightmare to wash over the Corinthian. It was a warning that promised consequence and fear trickled down the Corinthian’s spine as he were enveloped by it while Dream continued. “And be thankful that I am not taking it regardless.”

Hot shame flushed through his system as the Corinthian made good to stand and follow his lords demand but his knees had barely rose before he found his chest slammed down to the cold flooring once more as Dream carelessly flicked a finger in his direction. Barely a gesture and yet his lungs struggled to fill with air as the blow once again caught him off guard.

“Crawl.” Dream said. “If you act like a beast then you may crawl as one.”

The Corinthian nodded, the natural submission which clawed at his senses when the Dream Lord made a direct command of him taking precedence over what little pride still remained burning away in his chest.

And he crawled.

His knees were muffled against the stone flooring, the pale suit preventing any real noise from escaping as he moved on all fours slowly, directly making a path towards his maker to prostrate himself at his feet. To endure another shame which would eat away at his thoughts in those quiet moments where his thoughts were more dangerous than any beast of Nightmare.

Having reached both Dream and Hob as they towered over him, the Corinthian bowed his head until his aching cheek pressed against the rough floor – the cool stone providing a little relief to the broken bones there. He then turned to face the shiny patent leather dress shoes which adorned Hob’s feet as he existed within the Dreaming.

The Corinthian observed his spittle for a moment, the liquid glistening atop the leather like a jewel, mocking him as he went to open his jaw. Instantly, a sharp whine of discomfort leaked free of the mangled lips as the small movement sparked a dull, vicious ache across the displaced bones. It was a burning pain, one which was familiar in a terrible way as the bones scraped out of their intended place.

Swallowing down some of the blood which had accumulated within his mouth from the split lips, the Corinthian tried to ignore the pain. Ignore the shame. Ignore the way that his half-hard cock pressed uncomfortably against the seam of his slacks at the familiar submission.

His pink tongue dropped to lap at the spit which he had so foolishly fired at Hob’s feet, the soft leather thankfully clean as he swiped across the area with wide licks, determined to finish his task quickly. Clean leather, the scent of it stirring memories of centuries past where leather clung to his skin as he wove among the dreamers, imitating their style of dress without flaw.

His spit was cold in his mouth, the liquid having cooled against the leather and he swallowed it down with his own blood – the motion making his fists clench as he ignored the pain and tried to focus on the heat in his lower belly.

A creature of sensation, he would take whatever pleasure he could from such humiliation.