Fuck You, Clifford : Michael Blurb

Inspired by these two requests: 1 | 2 

I’m sorry for not following them exactly but your requests did inspire this and I love you and appreciate you and hope this makes up for my lack of obeying instructions x

Word Count: 1401

You might have toned down the amount of effort you were putting in to kiss her if you knew a tall ass blonde boy was about to barge in. You didn’t care what he saw, he’s walked in on worse things before, but you were going through a bit of a dry spell and weren’t too happy to get all worked up just for the party to end before it could even get started.  

“You know you have a room,” Michael points out as he kicks the front door closed behind him. “There’s a bed, it’s private… pretty ideal for those kinds of activities.”

You lean back disappointedly, the mercury in your adrenaline thermometer sinking down to a cold zero. The girl lying on the couch beneath you begins to sit up, the red in her cheeks now due more to being embarrassed than being aroused. You help her up from the couch as you remorsefully climb off, whispering an apology on your best friend’s behalf.

“Well I wasn’t told you’d be coming over,” you growl toward Michael, your eyebrow twitching. “Excuse us for wanting to frolic on the couch.”

That remark earns a snort from Michael and a shy giggle from the girl on your arm. It’s endearing to see her so bashful again after hearing all sorts of dirty things come out of her mouth a few minutes ago. 

You both know that mood isn’t going to pick back up with a third person, let alone a man, in the apartment. While you’re pretty equally as attracted to boys as you are to girls, your lady friend is really only keen on the latter, which is completely fine by you. With her fingers hooked around some of yours, you walk her to the front door and declare this date “to be continued”, parting with the longest goodbye kiss you’ve ever shared with someone you’re not officially dating.

It’s not until she’s out of sight that you finally close the metal door and turn around to face Michael. 

“Thanks, dick,” you mutter, walking back to the couch and plopping lazily onto the cushions.

Michael smirks, taking a seat on a nearby chair. “Hang a sock on the knob next time.”

“Why are you even here?”

“Relax. Gabriela told me to meet her here.”

“Are you guys fucking?”

“No,” Michael chuckles. He and your roommate have been hanging out a lot lately, and although they both claim it’s to “study” you have a feeling something fishy’s going on. “That’s awkward, why would I fuck your roommate?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, zoning out on a stupid decorative coaster that Gabriela left on the coffee table. “I’d fuck my roommate.”

Michael blinks. “You have a problem.”

“I have many.”

You both take a moment to appreciate the accuracy. 

“So you and what’s her name,” Michael stirs the conversation again. 

“Harley,” you fill in the blank.

“You serious about her?”

“I don’t know,” you repeat. You’ve gotten into an annoying habit of saying that phrase even when your mind is made up, just to sound more lackadaisical. “She’s cool.”

“She doesn’t really seem like your type.” When you cock a questioning eyebrow at Michael, he demonstrates by covering his mouth with his fingertips and copying Harley’s sheepish laugh. 

You smile, thinking about the real thing. “I like that about her.”

“That she’s quiet?”

“Just because she’s quiet around you doesn’t mean she’s like that around me.”

“Yeah, but she’s no Cheyenne.”

You pick up a couch pillow and chuck it at Michael’s head. He knows that girl is like Voldemort around here: she who must not be named.  

“I’m just saying,” Michael catches the pillow and keeps it in his lap. “You’re gonna get bored.”

“Cheyenne was a bitch,” you snap. “I don’t miss her.”

“I mean I think she was all wrong for you,” Michael agrees, “but you enjoyed the excitement of it.”

“Harley excites me.”

Michael stares at you blankly. “How.”

“Well we haven’t had sex yet so I’m… excited to…” You cross your arms, drawing a blank for any more examples. You blame it on being put fresh on the spot. “Fuck you, Clifford.”

“Right now?” he jokes. “Are you still all hot and bothered?”

You roll your eyes. 

“I’ll help you out this time, Y/n, because I’m a good friend, but-”

“Shut up,” you laugh, taking another pillow and reaching to hit him with it.
He catches this one too, and tries to pull it out of your hand but you forget to let go of it. The momentum catches you off guard, forcing your body forward so you’re leaning on the armrest of the chair Michael’s sitting in. From here you can smell the familiar scent of the same cologne he’s routinely worn for as long as you’ve known him. 

The pillow slowly slides out from under your palm, and your hand falls to Michael’s black-skinny-jean-covered thigh. You’ve obviously touched Michael before, in friendly embraces and playful wrestling matches, and it was always without thinking anything of it. But for some reason your eyes are glued to your hand resting on his thigh, on a part of his body that’s a bit more personal, somewhere your hands have never felt before. 

Out of your peripherals you notice Michael’s chest heave, like he’s just taken his first breath in a while. It comes to your realization then that you’ve been holding yours as well. 

Are you still all hot and bothered?

Maybe he wasn’t too far off. 

“Michael,” you say. 

“Yeah?” he replies calmly. 

You might have shut up then and there if you were thinking straight, but nothing could have prepared you to practically be on your knees in front of this tall ass blonde boy who’s only ever been a friend. 

No more words are needed right now. When you look up at Michael’s face you can tell by the droop of his eyelids that he’ll be glad to let you do anything you want. 

You plant one foot on the ground, pushing yourself up and grabbing both sides of Michael’s jaw. He reactively moves with you, his hands finding your hips and yanking you eagerly onto his lap. Your lips form to his for the first time ever, plenty of give and take being exchanged between the puckering motions, and your heart flutters upon discovering that your best friend Michael is a damn good kisser. 

His fingers tangle messily into the roots of your hair, and without meaning to your hips jerk forward, eliciting a deep moan from Michael. It’s not a sound you ever imagined gaining pleasure from hearing, but now all you want to do is make him let it out again. 

“Michael,” you sigh, pulling away to catch a quick breath. 

He hums, encouraging you to keep speaking while he busies his lips down your neck. Your next thought is briefly interrupted by the sensation.

“Do you want me?” you ask against his ear. 

There’s a shift in the spark connecting the two of you. He uses the roots of your hair to tilt your head back, willing your eyes to meet his. He takes his other hand off of your waist and places it on your cheek, gently running his thumb across the soft skin. 

“I have wanted you for so long.” Each word is enunciated perfectly to make the message clear. Michael has been waiting for this moment. He’s been waiting for you. 

You kiss him again, thanking him and showing him that you’ll finally let him have you. 

With your legs straddled around his thighs, he somehow manages to stand from the chair, cupping and squeezing your ass now that he’s been given permission. 

“Couch?” he asks, only partly joking. 

You laugh breathlessly, shaking your head. “Bedroom. Don’t wanna risk anyone walking in and killing this.” Your hand slides down between his clothed crotch and yours, your palm brushing over his hardening length. 

“Glad to have been a part of that lesson,” Michael teases. 

You can’t remember the last time you smiled in the middle of hooking up with someone because you thought what they said was genuinely funny.

“Fuck you, Clifford.”

He confidently bites his bottom lip. “Okay.”


Nordics on Halloween

Don’t read this if you’re allergic to bad puns


Originally posted by thecynicalcrayon

This little puppy is always ready for Halloween. It’s like Christmas for him. He’ll come barging into Sweden’s bedroom screaming ‘wAKE UP IT’S HALLOWEEN’. He doesn’t go trick-or-treating, but is always happy to dish out handfuls of candy to anyone who knocks on his door.


Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

Halloween more like Hell-oween sorry. He doesn’t enjoy the stress of finding a costume and decorating the whole house with over-priced cotton balls and vinyl strips. He’s basically the unenthusiastic Mum on Halloween


Originally posted by itsthegreenstuff

He isn’t as nearly as excited as Denmark, but he will go all-out with scaring the trick-or-treaters who make the mistake of wandering up his driveway. Norway will pop out in possibly the most terrifying costume to ever exist and cause a lot of screams and tinkling.


Originally posted by marcys-mareep

He was not prepared for the hoards of people with fake blood thrown all over them, so he stopped participating. In his biased opinion, Christmas will forever be better.


Originally posted by litiraltrash

He was waiting for the whole year for this moment. Skeletons are everywhere, pumpkin-flavoured everything. He can’t go five minutes without playing Spooky Scary Skeletons. And, of course, binge watching The Nightmare Before Christmas.

For @thebisexualmandalorian. Happy birthday, nerd. (B

Wolffe barged into the barracks the 501st were occupying while on Coruscant, and a small part of him felt bad that they were so startled by it. He stormed through the ranks of his brothers, until he stopped in front of the one he had been looking for. Rex looked up at him, and Wolffe’s hard look softened as he took in the blank look on Rex’s face.

“I’m fine.” Rex said softly, just as Wolffe fell to his knees in front of him. The older clone looked up at the blond, a small frown on his face.

“You don’t look it.” He murmured. Rex smiled weakly at that.

“Was a hard mission.”

“Was a bullshit mission, you mean.” Wolffe growled, “I knew something was wrong with Krell.” Rex shook his head.

“You couldn’t have-”

“General Plo didn’t trust him.” Wolffe snapped, “I know he didn’t, because he withdrew us from the mission roster. That’s why General Tiin and his battalion went for air support, and not us, when he found out Krell was taking over for General Skywalker. It’s why I sent you that comm, Rex. I was trying to warn you.” Wolffe hated that Rex flinched, but he didn’t regret telling Rex. He needed to know why Wolffe wasn’t in the air, ready to back him up. He needed to know that he had been damn worried about him.

When he found out about their brothers, about Waxer, Wolffe had been damn afraid that Rex had been among them.

Rex put his hand against Wolffe’s cheek, his thumb rubbing it gently.

“Wolf'ika, I’m fine.” Rex promised, “Exhausted, but fine.” Wolffe reached up and grabbed Rex’s hand in his, before leaning up and pressing a kiss to the blond’s lips.

He knew Rex wasn’t fine, but he was damn well going to make sure Rex got there.

manju-butt  asked:

How would Masamune react to being walked in on while making love to his S/O? Would he get embarrassed? Would he attempt to hide his S/O’s body? Would he not care and keep going?

Masamune froze as he heard the tell-tale foot steps.

His eyes wide, he threw his kimono on his beloved. He didn’t even have the chance to extract himself from their physical embrace before Shigezane threw the door open. Kojuro was right behind him and Masamune could feel the heat as they barged in on this intimate moment.


Kojuro’s eyes widened, but his body was already in the midst of putting his hands over Shigezane’s eyes.

“I am so sorr-”


Masamune shouted with that deep and angry voice he reserved for battle. Both men went right back out the way they had come. Masamune panted as he removed the kimono from her. Her face was still flushed from their interrupted activity, but now she looked like she might cry a bit from shame. Masamune was also struggling with the embarasement, but more for her sake.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded but remained silent. He frowned as he felt her pain and shame. He leaned into her and kissed her cheeks. Soon the passion from earlier was back. Masamune grabbed hold of himself and tore himself away.

“Hold that thought.”

He pulled one of the armoire’s infront of the door. He looked back at her and she was staring at him. He blushed.


She bit her lower lip and looked away, coquettish. “You look good, milord.”

Masamune came back to bed with her so that they could finish what they had started.

8bittheatrics replied to your post “You mentioned in tags on that Junkrat/Roadhog post that Overwatch has…”

Does this mean we get the cowboy and the samurai having Opinions™ regarding the Magnificent Seven remake?

Both of them would agree that the new one is better than the old because it’s TRUE

The racial makeup is more correct to what the old west looked like

The new one has much more nuanced versions of characters and ideas

(This one is biased) Westerns represent our ideals and fears as a uniquely american genre: The old one was about the necessity of americans to barge in protect foreigners from themselves, which is not a value I connect to, not being raised in the 50s-60s (I’m not hating–we’re shaped by our time whether we want to admit it or not). But the idea that big business has the law in their pocket and does not like by the rules of morality..oh that’s an idea I understand very well. 

Billy and Goodnight deserve their own buddy western


manju-butt  asked:

Hideyoshi’s S/O goes to take an open air bath when suddenly she screams. Does he hesitate to enter the bath or would he barge in no questions asked? What if he found a wild monkey in the bath with her?

He’d probs barge in, no questions asked.

“S/O, are you alright?!?

Is that… a monkey…? *shocked face*

Sorry monkey, you’re cute and all, but I’m the only monkey she needs.” *smirks*

Tagged by @craniumdemon to say five things you like about yourself publicly.

1. My eyes (which my daughter shares)

2. I’m kinda sorta okay-ish at writing, and it’s something I’ve enjoyed since I wrote and illustrated a book about a haunted barge (featuring Lara Croft???) as a child

3. I’m stubborn, which can be a bad thing sometimes but mostly means that I will be a rabid dog about protecting people I love

4. I’m pretty awesome at baking, to the point that I can improvise on trusted recipes to make them even better or put my own little spin on them.

5. I’m good at video games. I think this one speaks for itself, but… I mean, I love playing them and even if I were terrible at it I’d still love it, but being actually good at something that I find relaxing and rewarding is a great feeling.

Tagging @baph0maidn, @chupacabrasmustdie, @venatohru, @deichqueen, and anybody else who wants to :D Feel free to tag me in yours if you do it!

This piece inspired by my shriveled shipper heart. I will only accept the reveal if it’s in the rain. All aboard the garbage barge!

Dancing Away with my Heart by Lady Antebellum plays unironically in the background

So here's a story.

A couple years ago, one night, i was about to propose to my girlfriend when my roommate Joseph barged into the room out of nowhere, tripped, and fell over, breaking a glass table with his face. Totally ruined the mood. Now I didn’t know Joseph THAT well, don’t even remember where he was from, but let’s say I put my plans on hold to help him through his injuries.

Joseph had gotten big glass shard in his eye, making him completely blind in that eye. He was walking around with one of those cotton pads on his eye for a couple months. Then suddenly, he disappeared, along with my girlfriend.

Apparently they’d bonded during the time after his injuries, and eloped together, leaving me behind without as much as a note. I tried to track them down, but never could.

In conclusion, if it hadn’t been for cotton eye Joe, I’d have been married a long time ago. Where did you come from, where did you go? Where did you come from, cotton eye Joe?