very sorry yes

5

Sub-Zero making tea for Scorpion is my favorite thing from the entire story mode of Mortal Kombat X to be completely honest.

  • *a crime scene*
  • Greg: *shaking his head* This is wrong.
  • John: *shrugs* I know but what can we do?
  • Baby Holmes: *trots past, waving Sherlock's magnifying glass; giggling madly*
  • Sherlock: *following; rambling about soil samples*
  • Greg: *rubs the back of his neck* Molly's going to kill him.
  • John: *nods* She's knows what she got into, though.
  • Baby Holmes: *points at the corpse* Deaded!
  • Sherlock: *beaming with pride, scoops her up and gives her a big kiss* That's my clever girl!
  • Greg: *sighs* He's not even sorry, is he?
  • John: Nope.
  • Sherlock: *approaching, his daughter now strapped to his chest; proud af* She found the blood, the weapon and the missing wallet. My little detective. Brilliant, isn't she?
  • Greg & John: *exchange glances*

anonymous asked:

What do you think hearth told Blitz about inge? Like blitz has to have questions right?

(spoilers) i’m not sure what hearth will tell him, the truth i’m assuming, that she was someone he grew up with. and we all know that blitz heard the ‘confession’, and i’m sure he’s thinking three things:

1. we’ve seen how fucking terrible hearthstone’s childhood was, blitz will be so glad that there was someone there who genuinely cared abt him and signed with him and treated him like a human being during the worst years of his life

2. girl has good taste, recognizing that hearth is a goddamn amazing person, and yeah, blitz loves him too

3. without her, they never could have saved blitz

The Cheez Whiz Fic

Ryan was kneeling in the bathtub, a towel under his knees and another under his hands, his head turned as he craned his neck to watch Brendon working. The younger boy shook a few cans before tapping them against his knees and placing them on the counter. “You know it’ll cool down a little as they rest but is that good?” Brendon bent over next to the tub so Ryan could slowly press two fingers against a can, nodding once.

“It’s fine.”

Brendon nodded again, reaching out to stroke Ryan’s hair before standing back up and returning to the sink, where all of the equipment was spread out. The lids of the cans were already off, so all he had to do was pick it up. “Go ahead and take the plug out, baby.” His voice was soft, gentle. “And start with your fingers.”

It was the gentlest of their “darker” interludes. No name-calling or hair pulling or punishments for noises of pain. It hurt enough on it’s own, was degrading enough on it’s own, Brendon didn’t need to add anything to that.

Brendon felt a small tremor run through his body as he heard the soft moan coming from the bathtub, knew the other boy had just extracted the plug. He glanced up at the mirror, watching the boy set the glass plug on the edge of the tub next to the bottle of lubricant. Ryan picked up the bottle, desperate to fill himself as he opened it, dripping some of the lubricant onto his fingers and rubbing them. It was cold to the initial touch, but warmed up as his fingers moved.

“You’re so fucking hot like that, baby,” Brendon purred, from the sink where the cans were sitting. “Now, go ahead.”

Ryan flushed warm from the compliment, his wrist sliding down along his waist, hipbone, the curve of his ass. And then his fingers were poised, resting against his entrance before pressing in. He was already loose from the plug so it was an easy intrusion. He didn’t even bother with more lubricant before pressing a third finger in, moaning outright at the stretch. He started as he heard the click of metal being tapped against ceramic. “Already?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” the boy chided softly. “You can keep your fingers in for a second.” He almost added a soft 'slut’, but stopped himself. Brendon leaned down, reaching for the bottle of lubricant, letting himself hover over Ryan for a moment, his breath tickling the back of the boy’s neck. “Just think about everything I’ll do after,” he whispered before straightening back up and slicking the valve of the can. “Okay.”

Ryan whined, but slowly pulled his fingers out anyway. He wasn’t empty for longer than a few seconds, Brendon’s fingers immediately sliding over his opening before pressing in, then pulling out to press in the tip of the valve. “Breathe,” he murmured, fingers running down the boy’s spine. “I’m going to now, okay?”

“Wait,” Ryan choked out.

“I’m going to now,” Brendon repeated, voice a little harder this time. “You’re fine.” He kept his fingers running along the boy’s spine as he pressed against the valve.

Ryan bit his bottom lip, moaning as he felt the first rush of the warm cheese sliding into his body. The beginning of the enema was always like Brendon’s fingers were now, smooth and soft almost. The cramps would come soon enough, but Brendon’s fingers would still be the same.

When they started, one of Ryan’s hands flew up to his stomach and Brendon released the valve without a word, letting the other boy massage his abdomen to ease the pain. “Just tell me.”

“Okay,” Ryan whispered, his hand still on his stomach. Brendon pressed against the valve again and Ryan felt the warmth continuing to enter his body. He continued to try to massage away the dull ache of the cramps as he felt his stomach slowly begin to expand from the amount of cheese he’d taken. “Stop,” he choked out again. He wasn’t supposed to ask how much, but he was desperate to know. He’d felt like he’d taken half already, but he knew it was probably more like a quarter of the cans. “Bren?” he asked, voice close to cracking. “I-I … Brenny.” His voice was weak.

“You’re doing great, baby.” The boy leaned down, letting soft kisses feather along Ryan’s lower back. “So good.”

The tears were starting to build up. Ryan could feel them in his chest, waiting there, another ache in his body. “I don’t … I …” He let his head fall forward, trying to slow his breathing, trying to focus on Brendon’s fingers instead of the cheese inside him. “Okay,” he whispered,voice cracking as the first tears slid down his cheeks.

The flow continued and Brendon slowed the flow without a say so after five minutes or so. “You’re taking it so well, Ry,” he cooed. “You’ve got half.” He usually didn’t tell Ryan how much he’d taken, but it had been awhile since they’d done this and he didn’t want the boy to break before he managed to get all of the cans in.

“Half?” Ryan asked, voice timid, as if he wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or disconcerted.

“Mhmmm.” Brendon leaned forward, letting his lips kiss the back of Ryan’s neck, then between the boy’s shoulder blades. “Are you ready for more?” When Ryan hesitated, Brendon squeezed his hip. “You can take it, baby. You’ve done this before.”

Ryan’s head nodded a fraction of an inch, his breathing already labored. He gave a small squeak as the cheese started slipping into his body again. “Please, please, I can’t.” He shook his head, the tears coming out for real now. Brendon removed his finger from the valve again. “I can’t, Bren, please. I … I need to … please.”

The younger boy reached his hand down to Ryan’s stomach, the curve of a belly that wasn’t there usually. “I know you can take this,” he said, voice low but not angry or disappointed. “I know you can, Ry.” He let their fingertips brush. “But I won’t make you,” he added. “It’s up to you.”

Ryan hated that. It would have been so much easier to go along with it if Brendon hadn’t give him the choice. Now it was up to him to decide if he wanted to be selfish and disappoint his boyfriend and not get rewarded or just go along with it and deal with the pain. “I’ll try,” he mumbled weakly, squeezing his eyes shit and biting his bottom lip between his teeth as he felt the flow again.

Brendon slipped his hand down Ryan’s stomach to wrap around his cock, gently stroking, trying to turn the whimpers that the older boy was now making into moans. “So good, baby,” he kept whispering over and over. “You’re taking it so good.”

“H-Hurts,” Ryan choked out. “Break?”

Brendon took the pressure off the valve again, letting Ryan rub at his stomach and try to catch his breath. “It’s almost all in,” he said gently, still stroking the other boy’s erection. “Just a little bit more. I know you can take it, Ry.”

“How much?”

The question hung heavy in the air for a moment. Ryan wasn’t supposed to ask and he knew it, but he also knew Brendon never spanked him or punished him during an enema, so the worst possibility was simply that the other boy wouldn’t tell him.

“Probably two cans,” Brendon answered finally. “I’m going to start it again, okay? You can take this all in one go.”

Ryan nodded, gritting his teeth and counting silently in his head, hoping it wouldn’t take longer than a minute to finish. He was only a few seconds over when the flow stopped and Brendon planted a kiss to the small of Ryan’s back. “I’m going to switch it out for the plug, okay? Keep it in.”

Ryan tightened his muscles, his toes curling as he did so. It hurt, tensing up along with the dull ache in his abdomen. Even with all his tightening, a little bit of the cheese escaped, sliding down the inside of his thigh. Then the plug was in and he could relax his muscles, but only somewhat. Brendon picked up a washcloth and wiped at the cheese that had slid down Ryan’s skin.

It wouldn’t be too long, Ryan knew, but it always seemed an eternity. Five minutes or ten minutes could feel like hours. Brendon’s fingers slid up Ryan’s back until they were twisted, gently, in his hair. “I can’t wait to get you on the bed,” he said thickly, voice low and gravely. “Gonna shove my tongue in you so deep, baby.”

Ryan moaned outright, despite the dull pain in his muscles and stomach. It was a low moan, soft, but a moan nonetheless, and Brendon smiled at the sound. “Is that what you want?” the younger boy continued in the same tone. “You want my tongue in you, want me fucking your ass with my mouth? You’re going to taste so fucking good, baby.” His fingers tightened slightly in Ryan’s hair. Not enough to cause any pain, just enough to make the boy gasp, then moan again. “Then I’ll fuck you. So hard, baby, so God damn hard. So deep inside you. And then you’ll take my come in your pretty mouth.”

Ryan was whimpering, his hips moving ever so slightly, squirming. “P-Please?” he choked out. “Please?” He was begging for release. He knew it hadn’t been long enough, but if Brendon kept it up, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it in.

“I think you can hold it for another couple of minutes.” But Brendon let go of Ryan’s hair and sat back slightly, just letting his hands run slowly up the boy’s sides. The older boy was quiet, just a few whimpers leaving his mouth, but still squirming. Brendon let his hands slip lower until he was firmly squeezing Ryan’s ass in both hands. “Almost, baby. Almost.”

There was another minute or so, Brendon’s fingers skimming over the curve of Ryan’s cheeks and the older boy trying not to lose anything, trying to keep his muscles tensedjust enough. “Okay.” Brendon stood up, slowly, kissing Ryan on the back of the neck before stepping out of the tub. “Slowly,” he warned the boy. “Don’t lose anything, okay?” He held his hands out, letting Ryan take them as he stood and gingerly climbed out of the tub.

Brendon lifted up the lid of the toilet seat and helped Ryan to sit. This was always when Ryan started to cry again. He hated it, hated how Brendon was there for the release. So humiliating, worse than threats of letting Spencer watch or having Pete fuck him that one time while Brendon took Polaroids. “Please, just … I can,” Ryan said. “I’m fine. I can.”

Brendon looked stern, frowning, shaking his head slightly. “Stop.”

Ryan cried harder, bringing his hands up to push at Brendon when the boy moved closer, but too submissive to actually to do it as the boy reached between his legs, fingers closing around the end of the plug. “Please,” Ryan whispered again. “Please, Bren.”

The boy ignored him. “Don’t let it go until I tell you to.” He let Ryan’s face fall into his shoulder. The boy was shaking from his choked sobs as Brendon slowly pulled the plug out. He set it on the counter next to the empty cheez whiz cans. One arm came up around Ryan. Despite his tears, the boy was still clenching, tighter than probably necessary. “Okay, go ahead.”

Ryan shook his head. “No.” He cried harder when Brendon pressed his lips against the boy’s temple. “Please.”

“Ryan. Now.”

The boy was still crying, clinging desperately to Brendon as the first drops of the cheese began to slip out. And then, like always, he realized he really had no choice and just let go, sobbing harder as he heard it falling into the toilet. For Brendon’s part, he just held the boy, fingers running down his back, cooing soft sentiments to him. “Good boy, good job, Ry.”

Finally the noises slowed and Brendon took a step back, letting Ryan wipe and flush the toilet. They both washed their hands in the sink and Ryan blew his nose. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, refusing to look at Brendon. “I … I didn’t mean to … I know you won’t hurt me.”

Brendon’s cool fingers, still slightly wet from the water, slid under Ryan’s chin, tilting the boy’s face up to meet his eyes. “Thank you,” he returned, leaning in and kissing him, soft at first, then harder, tongue slipping in. “Bed now,” he added, unable to contain his smile as he felt Ryan’s lips curve upward against his.

They walked out to the hotel bedroom area and Brendon nodded silently, indicating Ryan should assume the position on the bed. “Back or … or knees?" 

"Knees if they’re not too sore.”

Ryan would take a lot more than sore knees for a rimjob, as he’d clearly demonstrated, so Brendon nodded his approval as the boy got on all fours on the bed. Ryan kept his head facing forward, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder and watch Brendon. The younger boy loved that, how he didn’t have to order the boy do it. Ryan obeyed the unspoken command of his own accord.

The bed sunk down as Brendon knelt behind Ryan, hands squeezing the boy’s hips. Brendon leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Ryan’s entrance, smiling when he heard the moan. His mouth opened, tongue slipping out, licking in broad, even strokes, knowing it would do nothing but tease Ryan, torturing him. And, truthfully, it was all Ryan could do to keep from pressing his ass back on Brendon’s face while begging 'more more more’.

Brendon sat up and leaned forward, pressing two fingers to Ryan’s lips. The boy sucked them into his mouth without a word, his tongue sliding around the digits, trying not to get overeager, trying not to just beg Brendon to fuck him and start grinding his hips into the bed. When Brendon pulled his fingers from the boy’s mouth, he leaned in for the kiss, smiling as he swallowed the moan from the intrusion of his fingers entering Ryan’s hole while they were still kissing.

Then his mouth was gone and Ryan’s fingers twisted in the bed sheets knowing what was coming, the muscles in his body tensing in anticipation. Brendon’s fingers pulled slowly, evenly, opening Ryan up just enough to slip his tongue in, licking around the edge of Ryan’s entrance. He licked over his own fingers as he slowly added another digit from each hand, pulling Ryan more open, exposing him more. His tongue slipped in deeper and Ryan tried so hard not to push his ass back on Brendon’s face.

The younger boy’s tongue started dipping in and out, slow and first, then quicker. Ryan was moaning, head thrown back, hips barely rocking. Brendon pulled his tongue out and his fingers, letting his lips press against the hole that was still open to the air. He began to suck and Ryan let out a stream of expletives that Brendon had never heard before. He let up on the pressure, his tongue slipping back inside once more, teasing, pulling out to trace around the inside.

“Fuck me?” Ryan asked, voice high-pitched and uncertain.

Brendon pulled off almost immediately, but didn’t straighten up yet, pressing two fingers into Ryan abruptly, smirking at the boy’s gasp. He slowly twisted them. “You want me to fuck you?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard, voice casual.

“Please, Brenny,” the older boy returned desperately, pressing back against the fingers, his head falling into the pillows as he collapsed on his arms, support following to his elbows.

The fingers slipped out and Brendon helped turned Ryan to his back, kissing him softly on the mouth, enjoying Ryan’s tongue probing his mouth curiously, searching for the taste. He pulled away after a moment and the older boy gave an airy sort of sigh. Then he was between Ryan’s legs, bending them at the knee and separating them, settling between the thighs before he pushed in, no lubricant and no warning.

Ryan made a low noise in the back of his throat at the burn, the stretch. He’d been waiting for this. Brendon hadn’t fucked him for a week, not properly. Toys and fingers and a fist, but not this. So simple, just them. Nothing artificial. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, leaning up to kiss his neck. They looked like any other couple just then, he mused. No one would have been able to look at this scene and guess that Ryan had just been given a two quart enema or that the other day he’d been made to stand in the corner for an hour after Brendon had spanked him fifty times with a hairbrush.

Brendon could tell Ryan was thinking and he angled his hips, shoving in roughly. When Ryan’s eyes popped open even wider and he let out the tiny squeak, he knew he’d found the spot. All semblance of thought seemed to evaporate from Ryan’s features as he just gave in and starting rocking against Brendon’s hips, moaning. He reached for his boyfriend’s hand, pressing the palm against his throat. “Please,” he whispered.

Brendon didn’t need to be told twice, squeezing down on Ryan’s neck, releasing after a moment to let him gasp for breath. Then his hand tightened again and they repeated the pattern until his boyfriend started shaking his head, not wanting to use the safe word, but wanting Brendon to know he’d had enough. His hand fisted in Ryan’s hair then, squeezing tight enough to hurt, but not hard enough to pull the hair out. “Touch yourself,” Brendon breathed.

Ryan obeyed immediately, one of his hands falling from Brendon’s neck to slip between them, wrapping around the base of his cock, stroking in a slow rhythm that contrasted with the thrusts. He didn’t want to come yet, but he knew he didn’t have a choice anyway. He’d come when Brendon told him. That was the rule.

“Faster,” Brendon growled, shifting his weight so he could press in deeper. “I want you close, Ry. Tell me when you’re close.”

The boy nodded, quickening the speed of wrist obediently, letting his eyes shut for a moment before he opened them back up. Brendon liked to watch him, said he could see Ryan melt through his eyes when they were in bed. He felt the hand tighten in his hair slightly and he stopped moving. “Close,” he choked out.

Brendon smiled, letting Ryan wonder if he was going to have to hold it, have to wait, have to worry if he could. But it was late and they had to be up in six hours. “When you feel me come, you can,” he said, nipping Ryan’s bottom lip between his teeth. The thrusts got impossibly harder after that, but only for a moment.

Brendon bit the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling as he felt himself explode and then Ryan’s wrist was flying as he moaned, low and whorish. Brendon could feel Ryan’s come hit his stomach as the older boy started swearing, his ass clenching down on Brendon’s cock as his orgasm tore through him, leaving him breathless and gasping for air. 

Ryan collapsed prematurely, still feeling his orgasm rocking through him, but unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to think. And then he felt Brendon pull out, leaving him empty and loose. He whimpered at the loss, turning and pressing his face into the boy’s chest as he laid down beside Ryan in the bed.

Brendon’s arms came up, feeling Ryan’s body trembling. “Baby, baby,” he murmured. “Shhh. It’s all right.” He kissed the boy’s temple, fingertips gently massaging feeling back into Ryan’s muscles. “We’re going to sleep now, okay? Early morning.”

Ryan whimpered, nodding, wondering if he’d be able to walk properly the next day. “Brenny?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Ry.” Brendon waited until he’d stopped shaking before he got up to turn out the lights and set the alarm on his phone. Then he crawled back into bed and held Ryan until he fall asleep before he got up to clean the bathroom and put the equipment back in their suitcase. He was only going to be running on two hours of sleep the next day, but it had been worth it.

@thingsareshapinguptobepretty-odd @jiaction

Castiel is an odd angel.

Here is the evidence.

The list that follows is what angels need to survive: strict orders from a higher source, powerful and burning grace, and an unrelenting faith in their God and His plan. Anything more is superfluous.

The list that follows is what Castiel needs to survive: a cup of coffee gently placed into his hand in the early mornings, whispered kisses pressed into the furrow of his brow, a distracted hand running calloused fingers through his hair as he bends his neck over a book, a low voice singing to him through the dark night as they drive in the Impala, warm breezes tickling his cheeks, “accidentally” wearing another’s jacket that is a little too broad in the shoulders just so Cas can smell like him for the day, and a splatter of freckles in his direct line of vision that offset a rosy blush as Cas leans forward to kiss soft lips. Anything less is devestating.

Castiel is an odd angel because he needs his heart to survive, an organ that most angels do without.

His heart just happens to be Dean Winchester.

anonymous asked:

I would 10/10 date you... that is if your into girls.

i guess my 1000 posts about my gayness for peridot, lesbianism, cute girls, doing cute things with cute girls, and LGBT+ pride in general would have given off the impression that i, mushroom-cookie-bears, am in fact, a lesbian, i.e. a girl of the gay variety, or a girl that is into girls, but apparently no, i must directly state that i am gay and am, in fact, into girls

9

Endless List Of Favourite Characters: Noah (Total Drama series)

‘Life, why do you hate me so?’

SUBWAY SLEEPER, pt. 8

pt. 1  |  pt. 2  |  pt. 3  |  pt. 4  |  pt. 5  |  pt. 6  |  pt. 7


Stiles pulls his ragged fingernail from between his teeth and bursts out impatiently, “Well?”  Lydia’s been holding onto the thing for seventeen whole seconds (yes, he’s been counting) and she still hasn’t said anything.

She idly flips the card over and looks up at him, eyebrows raised.  “‘Well,’ what?”

Lydia,” he flings out his hand towards the wrinkled, now-soft paper she’s holding.  Spit that had been clinging to his thumbnail hits Lydia in the thigh with the action and she glares at him.  Stiles bravely soldiers on, hoping him ignoring it will lead to her ignoring it, “do you know what this is?”

He folds his arms over his chest, hands hidden under his biceps so Lydia will stop trying to detach his thumb from his body through nothing more than sheer willpower.  If anyone was going to accomplish it, it was going to be her.

It semi-works.  At least she eases back to scrutinizing the address printed on the card that Derek’s girlfriend had flicked at Stiles’ head and sniffs.  “It’s a business card that was very clearly trash at some point.  And probably should be trash again.”  She holds it out to him like an antiques expert who’s just told him his retirement is nothing more than a spoon from the 1990s that she could find at Kohl’s for a, rather reasonable, seventy-five cents.  She checks back in with his expression and it makes her outstretched arm falter.  “Yet looking at the crazy-eyes you’re currently sporting,” she says, rolling her eyes, “I’m finding myself preparing for sinister plots and fanciful delusions.”

Stiles holds up a deductive finger, nodding, and says cleverly, “It only looks like a business card.  What that is, is a trap.  A Carrie-covered-in-pig’s-blood-humiliated-at-the-prom trap.  Your future husband’s current girlfriend doesn’t just give you a little starred, ‘he is here, you are x miles away,’ map, okay?  That would be way more helpful than they are known for being.”

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