whines why do i miss all the fun stuff
here he is, the biggest douche, etc.
whines why do i miss all the fun stuff
i’ve never needed a cigarette so badly in my entire life
yeah but rhys and jack could totally be mike and harvey from suits???
okay im gonna call out a pet peeve of mine and although it may get me yelled at and make people hate me, and im not good at articulating my thoughts but i just gotta inform some of you of some things.
i’m going to try not to go into anything too personal here but please please pleeease do not pretend to know what it’s like for a certain group of people if you are not in that group of people. not everyone in that group has the same experiences, not all of them are looking to have a spotlight shone on them, or to be defined solely for that trait alone. in fact sometimes it can trigger someone and cause great emotional and physical harm.
i am not my gender or sexual identity. my experiences don’t fit into the parameters you see most often on this site. and when i see people do things like that, i feel threatened as a person. there are those who feel the attention is important, but there are also those who feel the attention de-normalizes them.
so basically what im trying to say is, listen to the people before you try to wave their flag with them.
when you have to block someone you don’t even follow because their ship hate is spreading to your dashboard
here he is, the biggest douche, etc.
y’know those slow-ass work days where you just watch cat videos on the echonet and eat potato chips and pretend you’re actually working when your frikkin’ vp pokes his head in gives you more work that you’re so totally going to ignore and or pass off to secretary number one hundred and three?
oooof course you don’t. you’re not the president of a multi-billion dollar company, like me. :)
ehhh you know fuckhead you don’t exactly have to be the “”“fuckhead president of a multi-billion dollar company”“” to have a slow ass work day like that, don’t be so fucking ignorant
i’m sorry i can’t hear you over how disgustingly poor you bandits are
i’m sorry i can’t hear you over the sound of me rolling around in my stacks and stacks and stacks and stacks of money, eridium, guns, power, respect… you know, rich people things. stop being a little shit before i find you and break your nose
it’s cute you think that you’re anywhere close to my 1%. imagine what you have, and then, like, a hundred times that. but hey, keep the dream alive, kiddo. aaand– pass. i do what i want sweetheart, but gosh, i’d just– really love to see ya try. c’mon, i’ll get a good laugh out of it.
i’m pretty fucking pleased with what i have, thank you. and sure, cute little thing. let’s fucking fight, but i mean a fistfight. no weapons, no nothing. just you and me. how’s that sound, you annoying pendejo?
mm, i can always count on you for a good old fashion fight, huh. you’re even worse than nisha. maybe later tiger– i’m in a mood, and i really hate to kill something before i’m done having my fun with it.
would it be weird if i started rping with my own blogs??
yeah probably
am i gonna do it anyway??
you bet your sweet chicken fried ass i am
i will never understand jack/rhys shippers who make them both woobie as hell like… . did you even play the other games… .
i need 35$ to buy this really cool art program so i’m opening up my simple commissions again!! drop me an ask if you’re interested!!
update: they’ll be like the last ones, just simple (full color) characters pics for $15 !!
“Have I ever told you how much I looove that shade of lipstick on you?” He leans his head back, half in her lap and half on the floor with her legs bracing his sides. It’d be rather late on Helios, if the space station actually had a night cycle, (Jack believes that having the sunlight on all the time increases productivity), and Nisha had long since pulled him away from slaving over the paperwork on his desk for days on end. He has a pleasant buzz thanks to some Pandoran moonshine Nisha brought with her; that mixed with the gunslinger’s intoxicating company, makes for a very happy night for Handsome Jack.
Nisha runs her fingers through his hair, mussing it up and petting it back. It’s surprisingly soft, given how much product the soon to be CEO uses on a daily basis, but she’s not complaining. Jack’s mood has boomeranged from maniacally gleeful to ragingly homicidal ever since the– incident– inside Elpis’ vault, and she’s finally gotten him to hold still and be quiet for a few moments. Not that she doesn’t love all that rage, all that excitement; but even she needs a break every once in a while. She figures they both do.
“Yeah? Don’t reckon you have.” She leans in, breath ghosting over his new face. The whole mask thing is kind of weird, but she’s into it. “Why don’t you tell me now, hmm?”
Jack’s back arches, itching to be closer to the warm body behind and above him. He’s had enough booze to the point he’s drowsy and uncharacteristically affectionate, and he finds himself wanting nothing more than to curl around his cowgirl lover. He reaches for her, bold hand tangling in her hair and pulling them closer together. He purses his lips, a hair’s breadth away from hers before he snorts a laugh and falls back into her lap.
“Purple is nice. Color of roooyalty.” He curls a lock of raven hair around a finger, having enough presence of mind to not tug too hard and ruin the moment. “Y’know what’s a better color though? Yello– no, gold, even.”
She doesn’t hold back her laugh at how drunk off his ass Jack is. Nisha isn’t so considerate, and gives his brown locks a sharp tug. She knows how much he enjoys it, if his low moan isn’t hint enough. The gunslinger decides to indulge him a little. This is supposed to be a break, after all.
“Tell ya’ what. You buy me some gold lipstick and I’ll wear it. Maybe.” She trails her fingers down the sides of his head and down to his exposed neck, petting the skin under his jaw. She smirks, sweet as poison, when he leans in harder, brows furrowed. Jack’s weakness is in the palms of her hands, quite literally, and there’s nothing that gives her a greater thrill.
“Uhh, really? Cause I might–” He unconsciously moves his hips, soft and rhythmic, matching the time of her stroking fingers. “I might have some around–” He gasps hard when her fingers tighten. He’s fuzzy headed, moonshine bogging down his mind and the blood-flow to his nether-regions. But goddamned if it wasn’t trying. He covers her hands with his own, fingers sliding warm together as he sighs something that sounds suspiciously like the cowgirl’s name.
“Ni–shaaa…” He draws his knees up and spreads his legs a little wider, but it doesn’t occur to him to touch himself just yet. He feels like he needs her permission. He can feel the edges of his vision blur and his heart pound where she’s clenching his throat. His panting only makes her grip rougher. She could probably kill him if she was so inclined, just keep squeezing until he can no longer breathe, and he slips into sweet death at her hands. He won’t lie about the fact it’s one hell of a turn on for him. He’s sobering up and now painfully hard in his trousers, and he fumbles one-handed with the loop of his belt before he can finally slide a hand down the front of his pants.
Jack makes a choked noise, overwhelmed by the stimulus and his blood alcohol content levels. His vision goes more white by the second and he strokes his cock in duet with her rhythmic clenching fingers. He’s not going to last much longer, and it’s reflected in the volume and pitch of his gasping moans. The CEO occasionally drags a kicking heel across the carpet, twitchy and on the edge and waiting for Nisha to push him over it.
He comes and it feels like a hammer to his chest, air rushing back into his lungs as the blood rushes back into his head and it feels like a crashing wave against the cliffside. Intense and violent until it’s washed away with the tide, and he’s left trying to catch his breath and with a wetness in his pants. His throat burns and he’s drained and limp, barely able to make an appreciative sound, even at the petting of his hair. When his heart rate finally comes down and his breathing evens out, he tilts his head back, peering at the cowgirl with sleepy eyes.
Jack stretches his limbs before settling back down, grimacing at the mess in his boxer-briefs, and coughs to clear his hoarsened throat.
“Yeah– ahem– I’d say that uh, did the trick.” He strokes her leg absentmindedly, fully prepared to fall asleep in his position on the floor between them. He could worry about clean up later, he’s too damn tired now. They haven’t been seeing each other for very long, but Nisha is already a professional at blowing his mind; in bed and out of it.He tries to look down at the offending item, but the collar keeps him from scrunching up his neck, so he settles for squinting blearily at the gunslinger instead. It’s dark enough that the shadows don’t stretch far, but not dark enough that he can’t see the warped scar tissue decorating her neck where the collar usually is. He’s seen it before, of course, but they don’t ever talk about each other’s scars. (He already knows how it got there; she knows he knows, but that doesn’t stop them from not talking about it.) It’s just a thing they never do. The putting it on him thing is new though, and he wonders what brought it on. The inside of it is soft around his abused throat, warmed by her body heat, and he swallows behind it.
“Are you givin’ me fash’n advice, now?”
“I don’t ev’n own any friggin’ turtlenecks–” The kiss cuts off his breathy retort. He sighs into it, and resigns to not do anything else for the rest of the night but surrender to Nisha and the depths of sleep. With the click of her lips leaving his, he musters up enough energy to crawl his way up the comforter and actually onto the bed, sinking down onto the sheets and tugging Nisha down with him. He’s still in most of his clothes, but like everything else, he can put them off till morning. He curls up and effectively wraps all his limbs around the gunslinger.
“Mm, Jus’ promise me it’ll b’ a pretty one.”
art by : Indfries (☉‿☉✿)