singularityderp | HORRIBLE MEMES ALL DAY ERRYDAY

Red Snout/Red

He brought her a dead turtle.

Emile was...to say he was excited was an understatement. He was positively bursting with anticipation to be selected for Noble Team. Sure, he'd never heard of it before, but it was Block Ops. Who had? There were other Spartans on the team - Carter, even.

He remembered Carter well from training, as the only other Alpha Company recruit over the age of six. Carter was a born leader; they'd known it even then. And the chance to serve under him, to be on a real team with real Spartans who were trained for this, who didn't fuck up at every possible opportunity--

Yeah. He was looking forward to it, all right.

Now if only he could complete the initiation ceremony.

"Call on meeee~ Call on me!"

Sinuously, his rock-hard abs fluctuated in time to the music. His shorts (ridiculously tight on him, as it was so difficult to find clothes that would fit Spartans) were nearly ready to burst at the seams, but he wouldn't let up, not until the song was done. And it was cold outside, cold enough that he was nearly steaming with the sweat of his exertion.

"Call on meeee!'

That's right. They could call on him any time.

what is this fasklfamkfmwefomwefaewfi

I came buckets

PS you can serve under me any time, emile 8)

I aim to please, Commander.

/badtouches

Save it for the other prompts--wait.

/runs off to make other prompts

Virgil/Veetor

Tech boner.

He has a girlfriend.
Really pretty, too. Back home, somewhere. Well. If there was still a back home, anyway. Who the hell knows, at this point?
That didn’t exactly change the fact that he bunked on starships with other guys and… certain activities… were pretty much unavoidable. Men have needs; that’s what he’d always heard. He’d desensitized to it before he’d gotten into the Helljumpers, at least, and didn’t find sharing a bit of time like that with men distasteful.
He got the feeling that the Private did. Heh. His very own rookie, even if he used the title himself without considering it an insult.
Under different circumstances, he probably would have used it as a perfect way to haze the guy. After the freakout about Two – and the discussion about Tucker trying to sell him – though, J.D. had decided that it was probably better used in other ways. Someone had to calm that poor bastard down, and he secretly pitied the guy.
What ODST had that many problems getting laid?!

So he’d ambushed O’Brien on the way out of the Spartans’ base to give him some old-fashioned ‘assistance’. All that he got for the trouble he was going to was “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! LET ME GO!”

“You talk too much,” he groused, dragging the Private under the stairs to his usual napping spot, and very swiftly started to undo O’Brien’s armor. Having had to ditch his to save his own life on one occasion, The Rookie was quite skilled with speed-unarmoring. He was also quite good at ignoring O’Brien’s protests, adding a calculated, “Noble Team will hear you,” to quiet him down. Thankfully, being embarrassed further was apparently not on the list.
He would have been happy to explain if any of them did show up.

“I’m pretty sure this is in violation of something, now cut it out!” Rookie snorted, giving O’Brien’s crotch a solid grope once the underarmor was the only thing between him and his goal.

“Calm down,” he repeated, soothingly. “Teacher’s here.” And he would instruct his pupil on the finer arts of calming down until they were both fully satisfied.
The Private reached for J.D.’s armor, to which he brushed the other man’s hands away. “Armor stays on.” He tilted his still-helmeted head playfully. “Now. Make me moan, Private.”

Rookie didn't seem to mind being watched--hell, O'Brien was starting to think he liked it. Not that O'Brien was staring at him or anything, he was a red-blooded heterosexual male thank you very much, but it was kind of hard to not occasionally accidentally glance over when it was just the two of them, in a cramped space, with nothing else to look at. You couldn't really blame him for making awkward eye contact every so often.

...He assumed it was eye contact. The Rookie hadn't so much as taken off his helmet or gloves before he'd unzipped and got to work. He only knew the Rookie was watching him, well, watch because every time his gaze slid over to the other ODST the Rookie would let out a positively lewd noise inside his helmet and arch forward into his own palm, putting on a goddamn show.

Which wasn't hot at all. Not even the least bit. And it certainly didn't make O'Brien squirm against the wall, glad that the stairwell they were occupying was mostly disused and therefore lessened the chance of anyone walking by and seeing the burning in his cheeks.

Or the fact that he was frantically jerking off a foot away from another guy.

Which was a totally normal and heterosexual thing for two men to do on a space station where there was a definite lack of sane single human females. It wasn't like they were fucking each other or anything, they both just happened to be taking advantage of the same cozy nook under the stairs. And it certainly wasn't like watching Rookie sigh and grind into his glove made O'Brien bite the inside of his cheek to stifle a groan.

It might have been a little weird when Rookie reached over and started giving him a (literal) hand, particularly when O'Brien nearly came on the spot from the sudden worn-smooth texture of the glove sliding over too-hot skin. And it maybe kind of was a bit sketch that he leaned in just a bit to hesitantly return the gesture, the heat of an unfamiliar erection somehow both terrifying and exhilarating.

But it wasn't goddamn gay. Shit, it wasn't like they were kissing or something.

Red hadn't been sure at first if they were compatible. He looked enough like a raptor- walked and spoke like one too- but his coloring was off and his smell was borderline unfamiliar. He wasn't fond of humans either and (for some reason that she had yet to think too hard about) she was.

None of this changed the fact that when he finished doing his dance (a complicated but delightfully exotic sequence) and offered her the putrid flesh of a dead turtle, her predatory heart skipped a beat.

On this shit like nobodies business.

VIRGIL/JORGE

antagonistic fuckiiing

I demand a Spartan/Rookie/Spartan sandwich

blame chat for this one

oh my goiusdl;fjalsfdjsdl;fjsadf

/UNZIPS

/FAPS

/COMES BUCKETS

lmfao oh my god

/watches

If Rookie gets a Spartan sandwich, O'Brien should get one too.

Delicious ODST filling.

...Bonus points if it's two female Spartans/involves pegging.

When you're an ODST with a stick up his ass about Spartans, you're going to take out on whatever poor son of a bitch happens to look like one. That someone was Tucker, and by all accounts, O'Brien hated Tucker. So what do you when dealing with the asshole that tried whoring you and called you a homogay? You play Bros Icing Bros with the cockbite, that's what you fucking do.

Three ice blocks and six ices shared between them later, and not nice words start flying.

"Asshole, I bet you don't even know what a vagina looks like," said Tucker as she found a comfortable spot on the floor to fall on.

O'Brien protested by flipping a table and exclaiming very loudly that he knew an assload about vaginas and could totally demolish better than any Spartan could. Tucker found that to be very specific.

About four ices later, and O’Brien realized he had been drinking himself steadily into liver failure with a girl for that last two hours. O’Brien stole Tucker’s spot on the floor to fall out, he was just that flabbergasted. Tucker was also still in that spot.

“Hey, my floor, dumbass. Go find your own to cry your little bitch tears on.”

O’Brien was totally not crying, his eyes were just sweating.

Oh, yeah, the actual part where they fuck.

SO THEN O’Brien, completely iced, offered to give Tucker a ride home on his bologna pony. Because they don’t call it liquid courage for nothing, or whatever. Tucker, being without her rock and too drunk to demand credits, was all up on that.

O’Brien went monkey shit and tore that discount armor off like nobody’s business. He was so damn excited he tried j-j-jamming It in without getting hard first. Tucker laughed. O’Brien suppressed a sob and wanked off for a bit until his dick was stiff.

They finally got to the actual fucking and Tucker was at the very least, drunk enough to enjoy herself. O’Brien felt like the shit. And then he just felt like shit. All this rutting was getting him car sick. Or motion sick. I forget which one.

His face got all kawaii blushy and Tucker though he was about to come. Well, he did, but not before puking a case of Smirnoff on her chest.

“FUCK, IF I WANTED A ROMAN SHOWER I WOULD’VE GOOGLED IT YOU SICK BITCH”

O’Brien had to spend the night so he could clean the carpet.

It’s a cold day in Hell when Rookie doesn’t feel naked without his helmet. That whole thing with the virus and the song had been absolute torture. If it wasn’t for everyone suddenly needing him, he wouldn’t have left that tiny room in the barracks.

He feels comfortable enough about voluntarily removing it around Emile, at least, if only because the man reminded him of Dutch in some bizarre way. It was probably that helmet. Two of his favorite people that he knew, and both had Death’s Heads on their helmets. What did that say about him, he wondered?
Or would wonder, if he had the time, because he was pulling off his helmet currently.
In Jun’s quarters.
Mostly because Jun had asked. Somewhere, in this long, drawn-out conversation that had taken a turn for something decidedly not innocent, Jun had asked. And he was complying, because… well. He wasn’t entirely certain. But he felt decidedly disarmed and completely naked when he finally did it.

Jun was leading the conversation, as usual, but Rook was listening with more rapt attention than usual. It seemed extremely fucking important that he listen this time, if only because Jun had a gift for description when he tried, and Rookie had an extremely vivid imagination. Particularly when Jun was saying things like that. Where the hell did a Spartan learn to talk like that? And when did Jun learn to prey on his one weakness like that?

He vaguely realized that he was following the sniper’s instructions like an eager puppy, and realized a moment later that he currently did not give a shit. Sliding down to sit against the wall and whimpering was more important, hips jolting into the empty air because he’d been told to keep his hands off, and listening, always listening.

Jun kept him on the edge for what felt like an eternity, before finally letting him get the release he been quietly moaning for for heavens know how long. He slumped in his armor before looking to Jun, who was sitting on the bed across the room with a smug look on his face.

“Hey, Rookie. Wanna do it again?”

Two and Jorge lose their v-cards to each other like the sad sack of forty-something shits they are.

I AM NEVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO THINK OF VOMIT WITHOUT LAUGHING MY ASS OFF NOW

Showers all around. AS IN TE KIND THAT INVOLVE AMAZING CLEANSING WATER AND NOT VOMIT IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM.

Edited 2010-12-08 06:25 (UTC)

Rookie/Emile

"Have a thing for the bad boys."
leave the helmets on

Virgil hissed and twisted wildly in an attempt to escape the armored hand fisted in his hair. His knees were scraped, his eyes were watering, and his humerus felt like it was on the verge of divorcing his shoulder girdle. Ironically, all of these things were his own doing. Jorge had done little more than grab him, and, when he had started calling names, hold him down.

"You fucking faggot," Virgil yelled, squirming back. This only ground his face into the dirt more. "You think this is funny?" The insults continued pouring out of him until Jorge gave his face a little shove. He braced for the end but instead listened to Jorge's heavy, retreating footsteps.

"You're not so tough," Virgil informed him as he dusted himself off. He patted the dirt off of his suit and paused when his hand came away wet. "YOU CAME ON MY ASS? YOU FUCKING FAGGOT."

HORRIBLE MEMES ALL DAY ERRYDAY

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first fill bitches

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Re: first fill bitches

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I'm sure there's a Dante's Inferno joke in here somewhere...

did someone say second fill

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Re: did someone say second fill

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The sound track.

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so i herd jun likes talkin :D

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