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 Posting a reply to post #57694

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57694 No.57694
Dead Threads: >>55006 >>49265 >>47743 >>46639 >>45916 >>45069 >>44414 >>43727 >>42807 >>41900 >>41426 >>40879 >>40156

Tessa's DA:
Character Q&A:
LJ Comm:
Kink Meme:
Current PChat (if it's working):

How to IRC like a Hannafag:
1. go to
2. namefag
3. ???

Bee tee dubs, Sometimes the server likes to shit the bed. Just so you know.

New rule: No FUCKING wank. Just porn. Every one knows the spoiler now. Nobody cares, shut up, and post more porn.

5 posts omitted. Last shown. Expand all images
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Hey guys! I was gunna futz around with this some more but I'm tired and just...

Yeah. Gunna leave this here. Young!ConWorth, and I maintain that teenage conrad wears the big round glasses because...goddamnit are they fun to draw D:

*goes to hell*

Shit needs to get finished SO MUCH

Repost because I just read it again and it's so damn good hnghh--

Contains That Spoiler About Ples, but who doesn't know by this point?

They were in the biggest stall of a bathroom in some bar, a classy one that suited Ples. Not that what they were doing was anywhere near classy.

“Unh, Ples, please-” Veser shivered, curled his fingers into the wall as he pushed back into the older man.

“Silly boy,” Ples said, silent for a moment as he sucked a kiss onto the back of Veser’s neck, wrapped his hands around his hips to pull him further onto his dick. “I’m not Ples.”

Not Ples- and Veser knew, knew that sometimes Ples was someone else, but he didn’t know what to call the other man, this guy with Ples’ face and Ples’ body and Ples’ hands-

“Stop thinking,” Ples- Not Ples- whispered in his ear, grinding into his ass- he could feel the thick hair against the sensitive skin around his hole and it made him arch and shiver, made him bite his lip as Not Ples pulled out and pushed in, agonizingly slow, nothing how Veser liked it.

“Focus.” Not Ples said, biting his ear lightly as he pushed in hard.

There was hardly any lube, the little being from a small packet the older man had gotten from somewhere. It was just enough, hardly enough, Veser could hardly decide but there was that edge of pain as Not Ples pushed in that made him arch and gasp embarrassingly, whimper at every thrust. This man had flipped a switch, something that- just something, making him a moaning mess against the bathroom wall.

The bathroom door opened and closed and there were sounds, a man breathing heavy, the sound of him unzipping. This didn’t deter Not Ples, made him thrust so sharply that a choked little gasp fell out of Veser’s mouth.

All sounds stopped, the sound evident and loud since there was really no loud music, no screaming, no anything from the bar outside. Ples- whatever his name is- thrust in sharply again with the same result, the same little gasp.

“Who’z there?” The man sounded gruff, drunk as all hell- maybe the bartender or someone, and Veser hoped to god that wasn’t true because in the next second Ples pulled all the way out and slid back in slowly- this time he bit his lip to keep anything from coming out, and of course- of course it ended up with blood on his lip, but at least he didn’t make any noise.

He could practically feel the smugness of the man behind him, who licked his neck and finally, aloud and in Ples’ polite voice, said. “Are you talking to me, sir?”

There was silence on the other side, in which time Not Ples bit at his ear and lavished it with little licks and sucks, his hips moving in slow circles to torture him with not enough.

“What are ya doin’ in there than, huh?”

“Just making a phone call, sir.” Not Ples grinned against the side of his head, one hand slowly sliding up Veser’s shirt, over the taut skin of his stomach, soft touches that made him shiver.

“Awright than.” The man said, and without speaking anymore left, the bathroom door swinging closed.

“Veser.” Ples- damn it, Not Ples- whispered into his ear, and the hand under his shirt finally rubbed hard over his nipple, made him make a `hng` sound because fuck, that felt good. `Did you like it when someone could hear you?”

Here Not Ples gave a sharp twist of his nipple and bit his neck, making him hiss and try to pull away- or, really, his body couldn’t make up his mind, tugging this way and that, because at the same time he felt himself pressing closer, pushing back onto Ples’ dick.

“N-no, fuck no.” Veser said between clenched teeth as Not Ples licked the wound, hummed against his shoulder at was probably blood. “That was- was disgusting, shit, fuck- Don’t-”

Another sharp bite pressed into the same spot; Veser could only imagine the brilliant red mark tomorrow, a reminder of tonight, the ring of teeth that would tell him what he did and who he did it with.

“What if I told you-” Not Ples straightened up, both hands going to his hips. And Veser could tell the movement coming, the way Not Ples pulled out so slowly and gripped him hard, bruising, another fucking reminder.

“What if I told you-” Not Ples repeated again, and Veser could picture the sharp grin- so unlike- “That Ples could hear you?”

That- that surprised a gasp out of him, made a shiver go down his spine and at that exact same moment Not Ples pushed forward, hard, pressed in just the right way and the thought that Ples could hear this- see this, maybe, oh fuck- made him rock up onto his toes, made them curl inside his shoes as he let out a guttural moan, arching his back at the thought- oh god-

“Oh?” Not Ples said, sounding amused. “It’s erotic for you, isn’t it now? Ples listening?”

“Shut up!” Veser said; he pressed his forehead against the wall, revelled in the coolness of the tile against his sweaty skin. “Don’t- don’t let him-”

“Don’t let him listen?” Not Ples gave little, sharp shoves into him, right in that sweet spot and it made him shiver again, push back and bite his lip. “Oh, but Veser- he can see you too, you know.”

“Ngh-” And Veser couldn’t help himself, the way he shuddered and the way he could feel his dick grow a little harder but oh God, no, this was sick, Ples- this was against Ples’ will than, and even though Veser- Veser had wanted it for so long, wanted Ples for so long, this was so so wrong-

“Oh yes.” Not Ples murmured, and Veser couldn’t tell if that was just words or if Not Ples was turned on by his reactions but he snarled, went to turn around but a hand, lightning fast, came out and pushed his head back sharply into the tile. The force of it stung a little, made him curl his lip in anger before Not Ples shoved forward again, sudden and just right, melting the anger into a little whimper.

“He can see you, Veser-” Not Ples whispered against his ear- out of the corner of his eye he could see the fringe of the man’s hair, the white streak hardly visible. How the other man didn’t wear Ples’ glass but instead had them in his pocket, or somewhere, and this- he could almost feel himself believing it was Ples. Until the older man spoke again, voice soft and honey sweet but so, so different. “And hear you, every little moan-”

And he thrust inside again and just the thought of Ples- hearing all this, seeing all it.

“Hear the way you whimper-”

Veser clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, tried not to imagine Ples looking at him, all messed up and being fucked, sweaty and slutty-

“See the way you push back onto my cock-”

“Uuuun-” Veser said, and he couldn’t help but doing what the man said- pushing back onto Not Ples at the same time he pushed in and that was sosogood, fuck, Ples-

“And he can feel it too, you know. He’s getting off on this-”

This made him jerk sharply, made a little thrill of arousal run down his back, straight to his cock and Veser couldn’t help but bring one of his hands to his cock and fist it, hard, a loud moan making its way out of his mouth and fuck, Ples- all he could think about was Ples, maybe fucking him like this, so delicious and so good-

He was brought back to reality when Not Ples growled in his ear, grabbing his hair and pulling back to bounce his head off the tile wall. It made him dizzy, a gasp of pain sounding as the pain passed over him like fire.

“No.” And Not Ples sounded furious, angry- for one second Veser feared for his life, but then the man hissed into his ear. “You don’t get to touch yourself. You only get to come from my dick.”

Not Ples punctuated his sentences by thrusting into Veser, each word making his knees buckle from the force of his dick hitting his prostate every single time. The pleasure mixed with the dizziness still there but Veser nodded, let his mouth hang open on the very last word to let a groan escape.

Veser couldn’t see it, but Not Ples smiled, a soft, loving one that would have reminded him of Ples.

“Such a good boy.” Not Ples murmured, the thumb helping hold his hair captive in the older man’s grip stroking just right above his ear. “Should I tell you more? What Ples wants?”

This made him open his eyes, look as far back as he could to see the man. He desperately wanted to know, to finally now what Ples felt- and hadn’t the other man said that Ples was being turned on by this? That he was watching and enjoying it? But- maybe-

Veser couldn’t, though. That would just be cruel to Ples.

“No.” Veser choked out, closing his eyes again. “Just- No-”

He could feel Not Ples’ smile, the curl of lips too cruel for his Ples, the one that might have cared for him.

“Too bad.” Not Ples murmured, fingers drumming a little on his hip. “I think I might tell you, anyway.”

“He wants-” And slowly, the other man starting pumping his hips except this time he wasn’t stopping every few thrusts, he wasn’t teasing Veser anymore- he was fucking him in earnest now, every thrust aimed towards the spot that made his toes curl and the edges of his vision white. “He wants to hold you, Veser. He wants to make love to you.”

This- this, surprisingly, made his breath hitch and his hands clench tight against the wall.

“He feels so, so terrible up in his little room-” Not Ples was actually panting now, breaths timed with his thrusts and for a second each word sounded exactly like it would be with Ples and he moaned at that, too, but felt so sick at the same time because of Ples. “Doing what he is- what I am doing to you. He feels so, so terrible, Veser- because he can’t do this to you himself. That would be bad.”

Veser wanted to ask why- he wanted to, he wanted to have sex with Ples, make love, whatever, but he couldn’t seem to find the words, too focused on Not Ples’ voice and the way his cock was hanging, unattended, between his legs and how he was about to come, anyway.

And then- because Not Ples was a terrible man, because he seemed to know everything about Veser even though Veser never told him a single goddamned thing-

Not Ples whispered. “He loves you, Veser, but he wants to make you happy.”

A little choked off moan escaped him because fuck, fuck- fuck, that is all he wanted to hear and it made him so happy but-

“Call out Ples, little Veser.” Not Ples said, smirking. “You can make him happy.”

And fuck-

Veser did, saying Ples, Ples, Ples as he came.


HNNNN I read this the first time and it's still TOO DAMN SEXY AGH.

Oh hey! Speaking of Ples spoilers, how about some stuff I wrote for the IRC?

It's EvilPles/Ples.

When he woke up, the door was ajar. Almost—possibly—probably deliberately. So that when he padded into the kitchen to make some breakfast for himself, it was the first thing he saw. That, and the blood. And before he had time to panic—
“Good morning, love.”
Ples stopped in his tracks. And breakfast had seemed like such a good idea. Oh well. Must be going.
“Wh-what are you doing here? I th-thought you were—”
“—Back in your head? But it’s so boring in there. Dreadfully dreary.” The man seated at the table shrugged, making even the smallest action look sinister. “Besides, you know the rules.”
“I—I’m afraid I don’t.” Ples backed away from the table. If his other half was already out, what could he possibly do? Better to just get out of the kitchen, and, in doing so, make his way to work. Maybe nothing would happen.
Of course, he did know the rules. They always changed, but he knew them and it was never, never okay to go outside one’s head, as it were. Don’t talk to anyone aside from those you absolutely need to. Don’t go and try to get rid of me, you that won’t work (silly, presumptuous thing, you— for heaven’s sake, put those cogs away, stop drinking). Don’t go befriending teens with wide, green eyes and rows of too-sharp teeth, don’t go talking to detectives. That would be very foolish, Ples.
The other him—almost, possibly, not especially—just laughed.
“I, for one, like it when you don’t learn. You think going out and disposing of people is a chore for me?” He beckoned with what Ples saw to be a blood-spattered finger. “Sit down. You and I need to have a little talk.”
“But I only talked to them a little—and I drove away!”
The man at the table smiled condescendingly.
“Don’t worry, dear. Once you’ve been properly reprimanded you can go about your little workday as if nothing had happened. Now,” not-Ples-not-really patted the seat next to him, “sit.”
Ples knew better than to argue at this point, and tried to walk towards the table without looking terrified. He had already pushed the man to go out and murder some innocent fool simply by speaking to another. He decided that maybe, maybe if he apologized, promised never to do it again, took some initiative…
As if the man sitting at the table read his mind (perhaps he could), he smirked.
“I’m afraid you can’t get out of this one by a simple apology and some hand-wringing. What you have done is a serious offense, and, goodness, you know I want to help you, but you make it so hard.”
Ples nodded. He knew how this usually worked, what came next. Variations on a theme.
“What do I need to do?”
“Oh, Ples.” The other him shook his head, as if reasoning with a small child. “It’s not enough to just do something, you need to understand. I need to make you understand, since it seems you are incapable of doing so yourself.”
Ples sat down, as far as he could from the other man.
“None of that, now. How can you so easily talk to strangers, but be so shy around me? I know the rules, they do not. We’re going to have to do something drastic to keep you in line, don’t you agree?”


Ples’ heart dropped, and he mumbled a noncommittal agreement.
“What was that? I’m afraid my hearing isn’t quite what it used to be.” Not-him crooked his hand behind his ear. “Do speak up.”
“Er—ehm—d-do whatever you th-think is appropriate.” Perhaps by conceding to him…
“You always were woefully uncreative with punishments. Never were one for an imagination. Perhaps that education you got as a chi—oh. Oh my. Now.” The other him paused. “Now there’s an idea.”
Ples looked over, more confused than frightened. His childhood had been uneventful, happy even. “Pardon, but wh-what are you talking about?”
“Ples, fetch me that wooden stirring spoon from the cupboard, would you? The one with the nice, long handle.” The other man annunciated clearly, looking as if he were performing an onerous duty—oh dear, look at what my poor, stupid host has done now.
“Do I have to repeat myself?” The-man-who-was-not-Ples cocked an eyebrow in a way that seemed to say that it would be a very bad idea to make him repeat himself.
Obediently, Ples got up (again, willing his legs not to shake) to get the stirring spoon.
“Now, grab the edges of the counter. Lean down on it.” The voice came from behind him, right next to him, breathing hot in his ear in a voice that was-was not his own.
Ples jumped, and the other laughed, dark and deep.
“You’re right to be scared, you know.” He pushed grabbed Ples by the shoulders, half-dragging him towards the table. “But only because you’re so very, very guilty. The innocent have nothing to fear.”
Ples stifled his urge to run for the umpteenth time, and put all of his terror into his grip of the table, a lifeline. Something to ground him as he bent forward.
“Remember when you were young? When you spoke too loudly in class that once, and the professor called you to the front of the classroom?”
Ples nodded, almost imperceptibly. He could feel the man behind him, running a long (bloody) hand through his hair, mussing it up.
“Do you remember what happened?”
“Er— he t-took out his cane, and—”
“And you got punished. Right.” The hand in his hair tightened. “You will understand why, then, this is fitting.”
And the man who wasn’t him crushed Ples’ head hard onto the table, skewing his glasses sideways.
“Stay,” he sneered.
And then he stepped away, plucking the spoon from the counter.
When the side of the spoon came down, Ples knew—almost knew—it was coming. Still, he breathed in sharply, biting his lip. The pain bloomed like ink in water, tendrils spreading and curling up his backside lazily. The spoon came down again and again, and Ples could hear heavy breathing behind him.
“You—you don’t make this easy for me—I try—so hard—to get you to behave.” He heard the voice in between the blows. “And yet—I still have to—hurt you.”
The blows stopped, and he felt the hand—his own hand, with more purpose—of the man behind him resting on his ass, stroking over the injured area.
“Ples,” he breathed, almost remorsefully, “why do you make me hurt you?”
“S-sorry.” Ples gasped through gritted teeth. It wasn’t so bad, the pain, more the idea that he had to be disciplined like a child, bent over his own table.
“No you’re not. You’re not sorry at all.” Ples could hear the malice creeping back into the man’s voice, and, as suddenly as they’d stopped, the blows started up again. “You’re—only upset—because you got caught.”
The spoon came down again and again, alternating places. Ples was glad he’d gotten dressed before coming in for breakfast. It hurt enough with his pants on.
“You insolent fool.”
Ples felt his glasses slipping from his face, the table warming under him.
“Ungrateful, spineless idiot.”
Ples whimpered. “I—I’ll n-never do it again. I promise.”
“No, you won’t, will you?”
Not-him reached all the way back, bringing the spoon down as hard as he could. Ples dug his fingers into the table, crying out. But, mercifully, the blows stopped.
“There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” The voice from behind him cooed, and he heard the spoon being put back into the cupboard.
Ples started to get up.
“Keep down there. I’m not done with you yet.” He felt the hand again, this time the thin fingers circling idly about his neck. Ples felt the subtle threat in those fingers, and stayed down. “You see, I deserve some sort of compensation for taking the time to correct your behavior, yes?”
Ples said nothing, still recovering. After a few seconds of his silence, the fingers around his neck clamped down, cutting off a bit of his air supply. The man who was not him was not patient. Ples made a strangled little noise, and nodded as much as he could with his movement restricted.
The fingers released slightly.
“Yes, that’s right. Remember, all of this could have been avoided if you had just been good.” He could hear the other’s pants unzipping, falling down to the floor with a disarmingly soft thud.
Ples shuddered automatically as he felt the other behind him, pressing close, over him.
“Dear, dear Ples. Whatever am I going to do with you?”
The man started moving, rubbing himself slowly up against Ples’ now-hurting backside, one hand still on his neck.
“I would kill you right now,” the hand tightened accordingly, and Ples struggled not to breathe, “but I am a tolerant man, and you have your uses.” Ples waited for the hand to loosen, but it did not happen. He tried to breathe through his nose, but to no avail.
“P-please…” He choked, hands scrabbling at the edge of the table. He was so focused on breathing, getting out of this alive, that he had not noticed that his glasses had bent completely out of shape.
Not-him paid Ples no mind, closing his fingers even farther around his neck, pushing down.
“I love you like this, you know.” The rubbing continued. “You know exactly who you need to depend on. I can keep an eye on you.”
Ples’ eyes watered and his vision swam. “I—I’d v-very much l-like to breathe, please.”
“I know, I know,” the other whispered, voice the very picture of caring concern, soothing. “But we can’t always get exactly what we’d like. I suppose I’ll have to teach you to be patient, too.”
The man’s movements became more erratic, and Ples could feel the other man’s arousal pressing close to him, the still-cold (he was always so cold) fingers about his neck, pinching the air from his lungs.
“I am the only person you will ever, ever need.” Fingers closing tighter, tighter. Ples breathed in harsh, erratic gasps, saying nothing. “Nobody understands your vile, uncooperative mind quite so much as I.”
“I—honestly don’t understand—how you’ve lived all these years without me.”
And then he came, crushing down on Ples’ neck. Almost knocking him unconscious. The other man fell over Ples, trapping him underneath.¬¬¬

Slowly, slowly, he relaxed his fingers. Ples took a heavy swallow of air, coughing and sputtering into the table.
“You’ll be late for work,” the man who wasn’t him said matter-of-factly. “Clean yourself up. Tell them you got into an accident, that it was your fault. Do that excellent stuttering thing you do so well,” not-him remarked with an almost indifferent cruelty before shifting off Ples.
“And do put some other pants on. The blood-and-come-covered look is certainly nice on you, but a tinge unprofessional.” He leered, waving at Ples before walking out of the ajar door.
“Wait, I—” Ples tried to call out, to apologize, to ask if the other man would be back (if only so he could avoid him).
“And make sure to leave the door open.”


>>“And do put some other pants on. The blood-and-come-covered look is certainly nice on you, but a tinge unprofessional.”

Blood and come are like shorts and a t-shirt for EvilPles.


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HNNNNG hot damn VesMont. Why have you made me like this?

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I think Worth will become Vincent van Gogh in the future:


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Because it's mad awesome.




I like how it's become some sort of assumed truth that asphyxiation is amongst his very favourite things ever. Turns up in so, so many bits of fic with him in, proportionally. I am as guilty of this as anyone.


Yes. EvilPles is a man of refined tastes. You know, nice pocketwatches, tailored clothing, the screams of the delightfully innocent as he strangles them slowly to death, a good book, it goes on.

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I love my friends.
So much.
8I <3

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Was promised more gelled haired Conrad.

Whar is it.


Well, I guess I'll have to doodle some ungelled Conrad? Lemme see if I can get this netbook to support a tablet driver and I'll get on that!

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Alright, here you go! Did a little Tegaki fer ya, hope it pleases!


If I could eat this I would. Om nom nom.

Hurhur thanks 8D

Also totally realized halfway through drawing this that he looked strikingly like David Tennant, and while it was not an intentional move, it is, nevertheless, satisfying.

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I was expecting something shitty like my doodle but nope! You're awright.

Ohhh and I guess I meant ungelled and not gelled in my post; whoopsie.
I ain't smart.

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It looks like Connie is about ready to just snap and I love it




The comments are nearly as good as the new page.
Also, fuck yes Geggidy!
I am excite.
It better be Ples.
Or I shall be disappoint.


Oohhh, I hope that laughter is Ples.
It would be like ice-cream ON TOP of a delicious cake of PMSing Conrad.


I'm assuming it is, since *spoiler* and all.

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For the sake of content, have a Conrad face.

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I haven't posted this ConVes either, have I?


Well, it looks like there's one more strip until people can stop spoiler-ing their text here.

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Dat layout. Dat evil laugh. I thought I was losing interest but my heart gave a little jolt when I saw there was a new page. eeee



why do i hear the terminator theme when i look at this fuuuuuuuuuuuuu

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I made this picture for your eyes only /coq/!!

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i don't even

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Conrad you ass.

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He's reading... Marmaduke? THAT SICK, EVIL BASTARD!

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Uh. So. Yeah. I was told to go to bed, but I was so close to finishing this, I couldn't. Also is it appropriate my sense of time is fucked right now?

Please excuse my sorry excuse for coloring and typography. The font used is Got Heroin? from The shoddily drawn tik toks are done by me. Original sketch is in pencil, and I can post that if people want it without all the doo-dads.

Also spoilered because Pleeeeeeeees D8<



It's TIME to fap!

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So is it Ples Day or what?



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