#it came to me in a fevered dream

[antimonyandthyme]

guanyu/fernando; undercover cop au

Fernando’s out in the phonebooth by the bar, foot tapping a doomed tattoo into the ground. The phone rings, and rings and rings.

Shit’s going to hit the fan.

He tries a second and a third time, and Ron never fucking answers, and Fernando has face up to the fact that his handler might have just upped and left the burner Blackberry and went back to be happy with his wife and kids. While Fernando’s out here, as stranded as a desert island can ever get.

He tries one last time, just for luck.

“Hello?”

It’s not Ron. It’s some—voice Fernando doesn’t even recognize. Young and almost dangerously curious. Some kid stayed too late in the office, trying to impress someone, and hearing the phone on Ron’s desk go off like a fire alarm, one, two, three, four times. Some kid winding up with a mess six feet deep. Shit.  

“Yeah, delivery,” Fernando says sharply, hopes to god whoever is listening follows. “Junkyard Bar by the Highway, you know that one, piece of shit by the side of the road. Baddest place there is.”

A beat, then the kid says, “Understood.”

Either the brightest in the class, or the absolute dumbest.

“I need delivery,” Fernando says again, as two drunk idiots, strapped to the nines, stumble out and pass the phonebooth. “Get me two large fries, a cheeseburger, and a coke.” It’s 24 hours at some fast food joint somewhere. The kid’s going to have to figure it out.

“Need backup?”

“No,” Fernando grits out. He needs a believable way out of this, not for the whole squad to show up and blow his cover. “Just get me my food, and get it fast.”

“I got you,” the voice says and the line goes dead.

Fernando takes a second, breathes. Thinks of every possible way this will end with a bullet in someone’s neck. Down by his boot the dust settles.

He saunters back in. Raises a hand for another drink.

“What d’you order?”

“Cheeseburger and fries,” Fernando shrugs. “Make my life a lot easier if your kitchen still worked.”

“It’s past midnight, asshole,” the bartender says. They thrive on a relationship of annoyance, nothing too friendly, nothing bordering on disdain to make him memorable. Exactly where Fernando needs to be. He sloshes beer down his chin, and the bartender takes that as his cue to find someone else to talk weather with.

Fernando counts the minutes, barely tastes the hops swirling on his tongue. Behind the bar, in the den hiding in plain sight, something’s happening. He clocked it the moment he saw the owner and the man he’d been tailing for a whole nine months slide in fifteen minutes ago. Cash is being exchanged. Hands are being shaken. Throats are being slit.

He squints at the sudden lights flooding through the window. Fernando swallows his pulse.

“That’ll be my fucking dinner,” he announces to no one in particular. He heaves himself off the barstool, pats around fake drunkenly for his wallet in his back pocket. No one pays him a second glance.

The kid’s in a McDonald’s uniform. A uniform. And he’s got a takeout bag in one half-outstretched arm.

Even through the rush of adrenaline now spiking through him, Fernando finds it in him to be wildly, stunningly, impressed. The kid had gotten a fucking uniform.

“Sir, I’m really sorry, but I just realized they sent me out without your fries.”

He was saying it softly enough not to cause a commotion, but loudly enough that there’d be several witnesses.

“Motherfucker,” Fernando says, waiting for his lead.

“I can go back. Or maybe, you could—”

“I’ll come with you,” Fernando interjects, getting the plan immediately, “or I’ll just be sitting here waiting for your sorry ass until I starve.” Slams his beer bottle down with just enough irritation to make it utterly convincing. He’s ornery even on his best days here. The bartender rolls his eyes and goes back to his drinks.

Fucking perfect.

He gets into the kid’s car, a nondescript, unnoteworthy Subaru. As the kid tears off, Fernando says, breathless, “I can’t believe you got a uniform.”

The kid shows his teeth through the rearview mirror. One hand on the wheel, one hand peeling the McDonald’s delivery cap off his head. “Paid for college.”

--

At first impression, Fernando wouldn’t have pegged Guanyu as someone vindictive. But Guanyu, who showed up in a uniform with a crumpled takeout bag, Guanyu, who bailed him out of that bar when Fernando had thought he was fucked all ways to Sunday, is full of surprises.

Guanyu reports Ron for negligence, and takes it up with Homicide, then the Chief, and follows it up and up and up and up, like he’s pulling determinedly at the multi-coloured handkerchiefs coming out of the magician’s bag until he’s convinced he’s got the last one. The information Fernando provides is grade A fuel. The case is now big enough that they’ve got two whole divisions working on it. To save face, the bosses move Ron out of state. Fernando can’t find it in him to care less.

They sit outside in the precinct parking lot, sharing fries.

“I can’t see you having worked here.”

Guanyu laughs. “I lied. I went into the McDonald’s flashing my badge.”

“Guns a-blazing.” My hero.

“I said I needed a uniform. I changed into it, right in front of the cashiers. They looked at me as if I was from another planet.”

Fernando grins into his cheeseburger. If the Chief looked out right now, he’d see his most promising recruit fraternizing with a wounded dog who barely even reads his own name right these days. Not the best look for Guanyu, who knows it, surely. Fernando can’t figure it out. Can’t figure him out.

“So,” Guanyu clears his throat. “It seems like you’re out a handler.”

Fernando shrugs. “I’ll be on loan to whoever wants to keep me.”

“Sounds like a shit deal for you.”

“When is it not?”

Nobody of the right mind works undercover. Fernando’s learned to play cards with the hands he’s dealt.

“It won’t be that way with me,” Guanyu says.

Fernando stares. Way he says it, sounds almost like a proposal.

“It is,” Guanyu says wryly.

“Why,” Fernando says.

“Smart as all hell, and I’ve heard you do it all.”

“Oh,” Fernando says soft, dangerous, “you’ve heard, huh?”

Guanyu has the decency to look slightly ashamed. “Ron didn’t know what to do with you.”

“And you do?”

“I know how to pick up when you call,” Guanyu says. “I know how to heel.”

Fernando wants to shake some sense into the kid. “It’s usually the other way around.”

Guanyu smiles. Something small, something secret. A flash of something curious, like that first Hello? when he’d answered Fernando’s distress signal. How deep into Fernando’s files did Guanyu read? “Not for you.”

“And you’re fine with that,” Fernando says, just short of incredulous. After all, he’s learning Guanyu’s full of surprises. “You’re fine with me going, heel.”

Guanyu goes tight for a quick second. His ears are a little too red for the late summer weather.

Interesting, Fernando thinks.

Fernando holds out his hand. Greasy from the fries they’ve just shared. It takes a moment before Guanyu looks him in the eye.

When he does, that same composure that carried him into the bar that day is back.

They shake.

[violent138]

League members discussing meeting Robin at work:

"Compared to Bats, Robin was a total sweetheart. Ball of sunshine."

"Man, must've been a good day then, the kid I met was a real anklebiter. He pulled out a sword and everything."

"Anklebiter is harsh, the sweet boy I met barely said a word, he just kept asking about Themyscira and the lasso."

"He? I met a blonde girl."

"No, no, black haired boy with blue eyes. We're talking about Robin."

"Yeah same here, blue eyed and tanned."

"Pretty sure he had green eyes. And talked fancy. And kind of scolded me for time travelling."

"The child I met was paler than the moon."

"I'm telling you I met a girl, and she was Robin."

"Well... either we're all wrong or we're all right."

So they arrive at the conclusion that Bats has a shape-shifter for a kid.

[independent-fics]

Now, you can take that as a gift, or you can take it as a curse. And that's up to you.

Eliot Spencer and Parker Doing the Things Others Won’t

Leverage (2008-2012)

04x01 The Long Way Down Job

05x09 The Rundown Job

[ratttgay]

The Phream

[lotus-pear]

lore accurate chuuya canonically drives a 2006 sparkly barbie motorcycle

[glitchedcosmos]

New onesie just dropped !

[0scinine]

I present the Mighty Nein in cropped sleeveless tank tops because I had nothing better to do with my time

[keferon]

Okay I uh

Another Mistakes on mistakes until.. fanart because I'm very normal about this fic yep

Funny story. When I drew this sketch and decided to color it, I also decided that I wanted to add some sort of color symbolism to it. You know, when colors have an extra layer of meaning that you can't grasp if you don't think about it. That kind of thing.

The whole vision sank with funny bubbles because I realized that I don't know shit about momu!Jazz except.... a whole lot of shit I know about him….that is so unreliable that a paper plane looks impressively solid in comparison.

So, yeah. I gathered all the colors my finger could reach and threw them in the blender and then put the blender in the washing machine. What color is anything? I don't fucking know. If you poke this picture with a color picker, your device will take -5 damage.

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Actor Au!

Where Batman and Co. are the most popular TV series and they’re currently filming Jason’s death.

Only Bruce goes so deep into acting he breaks down for real upon the part where he arrives at the warehouse and digs through the rubble for his child.

[emchant3d]

Soulmates au with hopeless romantic Steve who is so overjoyed to have finally found his other half, his perfect match, the person he's meant to be with, and Eddie who doesn't believe Steve could ever really change from his old ways and rejects him.

[princessmadelines]

DEAN WINCHESTER : HOW TO BECOME THE 21ST CENTURY MARLBORO MAN

Do you want to be become The Man? Do you dream of being the perfect Action Hero? That's easy enough, kid! All you need is your Father's leather jacket, his vintage muscle car, and his cassette collection. And if that isn't enough, look no further than 80s action movies. Save the day, get the girl... yes, it's that easy! Just follow the script, and you'll be the perfect Red-blooded American Man.

or a study of dean's performance of masculinity

[unitato722]

Thinking about the first few times with the turtles in a more realistic light.

The first time you decide to let him inside of you, you don't expect too much. This is his first time having sex, so it's only fair that it's more of a learning experience than anything else.

You start with lots of prep. He doesn't want to hurt you, even when you assure him that you might feel a bit sore. He's so nervous that by the time he finally puts his dick in you he's full on trembling. You talk him through it as much as you can, but let's be honest- there's no way you can be completely there when he's stretching you so wide on his fat cock.

He pushes in slowly, and with every inch your breath hitches. He only gets half way inside of you before he's moaning and cumming buckets. He's barely conscious enough to pull out after the first three seconds, and even then he's still letting out the most sultry "hahhh~" and "oh fuuuuuh~".

That's how it's going to be the first few times. Their bodies slowly becoming used to the sensation of entering your velvety cunt. Nine times out of ten you won't end up getting off, but it's not because they didn't try, it's mostly because they're so braindead from how hard they came that you have to take care of and love on your man until they remember how to speak.

The first time they are able to finally start focusing on making you feel good you better be ready.

Chances are that he's been doing his research on how to make you cum. He probably feels bad that you haven't been enjoying it as much as he has, no matter how many times you insist that you don't mind.

He's between your legs, eating you like a man starved. He makes you cum at least twice before he's shucking his pants and boxers. He crawls up your body slowly as he trails kisses from your hips up across your chest and neck, nipping at your pulse point in the way that makes you gasp. He lets his cock rest against your pussy and slowly slides it up and down, collecting your arousal on his shaft while he shoves his tongue in your mouth.

The kiss is so dirty that you completely lose yourself in it, nearly missing when his head catches at your entrance. He pulls away from you and slowly starts to push in, watching as your mouth falls open in a breathless moan. Once he's half way he stops and tilts your head to look at him. "Beg for me baby." It's like a plea against your lips, and who are you to deny the one who stole your heart?

"Please," you moan out. "Need you so fucking bad~ babyy~" and then he's bottoming out leaving your brain in pieces on the floor. All you can think about is how good he feels, how good you feel.

It starts out slowly, him pulling all the way out before slowly feeding it back into your gushing folds. Once he knows you're ready he starts speeding up, hips snapping against yours as his hands hold yours next to your head. All the while he never looks away from you, too obsessed with the way your face portrays your arousal.

He's able to hold himself back from cumming until he feels you clamping down on him, and then he's losing himself as he spews out praise and sweet words as he jackhammers his release into you.

After that he takes care of you, holding your face and telling you how well you did as he cleans up the mess between your thighs. He's kissing all the bites he left on your neck as he lays with you on his chest, fingers running through your hair comfortingly.

It takes you quite some time to come back to reality, but he's patient and he never rushes you. The second you regain your sense of mind you look up at him, mouth agape in shock. "When the hell did you get good at sex?" You demand, and he laughs.

"You'd be surprised what I've learned the last few weeks baby," he replied with a kiss to your forehead. "Maybe I can show you after you get some rest."

"Deal."

You've never fallen asleep so quickly.

[ivymarquis]

Okay y’all know those reddit posts where the husband forces the wife into opening the marriage because he wants a free pass to cheat and she’s forced to say yes because the option is that or divorce? And then the husband legitimately expects the wife to just stay home and not do anything while he’s having fun because she loves him. And then eventually she decides if the relationship is open then she should probably find someone too, and then the husband is all shocked pikachu face about it and wants to close the relationship back up because “it’s different because Im sleeping with different women I don’t care about, and you’ve got an entire boyfriend so it’s cheating D<“

Meanwhile the boyfriend is a cinnamon roll who is totally trying to finesse the wife out from underneath the husband because she deserves better??? That he’d happily be committed to her and only her if she leaves him?

1) that shit butters my biscuit on so many levels

2) that concept, with Graves x Reader as the married couple with König as the boyfriend lmfao

[stellewriites]

pre/poly141 summer thoughts mdni

simon who’s skin is sensitive to the sun, burns after just 15 minutes unless he’s got a factor 50 on, but usually he just layers up to avoid having to reapply. that is until johnny manages to drag him ‘round to his for a bbq with all the lads one sunny day.

after drinking a couple of luke-warm beers. simon’s easily cajoled into taking his shirt off instead of suffering and sweating through it.

“what kind’a numpty wears black, an’ long sleeved at tha’, on a day like this, si? jesus wept, tek it off a’ready.”

the others are all shirtless too, it’s fine simon tells himself as he drapes it over the back of his chair, ignoring the hungry glance price sends him from beneath the rim of his hat.

simon soon feels himself nodding off in one of the lawn chairs next to kyle after filling himself to the brim with john’s cooking - burgers, steaks, ribs, sides; the lot. john price doesn’t fuck around when it comes to showing off behind the grill.

johnny nudges simon slightly as he steals the other empty seat next to him, asks softly if he wants a bit of sunblock on and si can only nod sleepily, knowing he’ll be red raw and sore as fuck in less than ten if he doesn’t. already feels the tingle across his nose warning him to reapply.

he relaxes further at the feel of johnny’s capable hands on his chest, diligent and focused on their task though the odd finger strays to brush his nipples when in reach. he doesn’t mind, sighs in fact when he feels kyle’s hands join johnny’s, petting at his thigh through his too-thick jeans.

“dressed like it’s not 32C, simon. expecting sleet or summat, mate? you do know it’s july, right?”

he slowly blinks his eyes open, lids heavy as he stares at the pair of handsy sergeants; too tired to sharply ask what they were playing at, too tired to pretend to want them to stop. just smiles back across at his captain as he watches, satisfied, from the chair opposite.

simon gets used to the repetitive, firm massaging motions and closes his eyes again when no one speaks. despite his best efforts to soak up the feeling of skin on skin, he nods off feeling comfortable and safe and low-level horny.

wakes up 20 minutes later with sunburn just creeping in on his shoulders and tummy, and when he looks down the crude shape of a sports bra has been blocked out on his chest using the cream leaving the rest of him to burn and tan around it.

johnny and kyle are run ragged for the next month during training, even when they do their very best to make it up to him in their spare time (he hisses without fail every time they drift from licking at his cock to kissing at the irritated red line across his tummy from where his jeans stopped the burn in its tracks).

price only gets off lucky because he has aloe on hand immediately and rubs it in without getting distracted. though as soon as simon’s skin isn’t so raw he’s brushing bristly kisses across his shoulders and down his chest every chance he gets.

simon considers starting to wear his heavy, buckle-laden gear outside of missions over his shirts unless he wants john to continue dragging him into his office to yank up his loose layers to lave at his skin for ten minutes at a time and giving him beard burn in a suspiciously similar pattern to what the sergeants left.

“can’t help m’self when i know what your hidin’ under here, lieutenant. be a shame not to show my appreciation, ‘specially with such easy access.”

photo insp: ‘heat stroke’ by wintam for gqchina

[meowpupp]

we need more puppy girl reader pls!!!

say less 🙏

1.4K- owner!price x chubby!puppygirl

TW- puppy play, degradation, cum play, exhibitionism(?), humiliation, sorry if you have a stuffed toy called 'fluffy,' general rough sex, HYBRID FIC, price is jealous over a stuffed bear, 

owner!price who decides you’ve been so good recently, so good in fact that you deserve a treat.

he sees it when he’s in cue for petrol- a cute stuffed bear. soft brown fur, fuzzy ears and big eyes. just like his favourite pup.

when he first gives you the plush it’s innocent. you give it a dumb name, fluffy or something. he doesn’t pay much mind. all he cares about is how happy his pup is, tail wagging and excited yaps.

after days of being sidelined by some stupid ball of fluff, price starts to get jealous. he knows it’s irrational. the bear is just something you entertain yourself with when he can't, but jealousy still stirs in his gut.

it’s like fluffy glares triumphantly at him when you give him attention. price watches in envy as you lazily chew on its ears, nuzzle and lick its fur. all things you used to do to him.  

one day, it gets too much for him. after a painful workday, all price wants is his sweet puppy girl. Instead, he walks into the house to see you cuddled up with the fucking bear. its beady eyes stared back into his as if saying, ‘ha-ha, she likes me more.’

he’s on you in an instant, ignoring your yelp as he pulls you up. price makes you kneel, pushing you back down when you try to get up.

“what, want your bear?” he scoffs at you, your brain still sleepy, trying to play catch up, “c'mon then, since you want it so much, ride it.”

it takes you a moment to process what he’s saying. ride it? Ride Fluffy? but he’s your bear- soft, warm and plush. he’s a toy, but not that kind of toy.

before you can even reply, price grips your jaw with one of his big hands. his skin is rough and calloused, almost scratchy as he manhandles you.

“are you deaf pup? or perhaps you think you only take orders from the fucking bear now?” price shakes your face side to side to catch your attention, “disobedient fucking mutt, don’t even know who your owner is.”

he kicks apart your knees, creating space for him to shove the bear between them. “go on. ride it. hump it like the desperate thing you are.” he takes a step back, arms crossed as he glares down at you.

Price scoffs when you start rolling your hips. His eyes analyse you, how your back arches, how your eyes screw shut, how your lips part as you whine. all while you grind down on your beloved plush.

“yeah… bet it feels good, huh? making your dumb puppy-cunt feel tingly?” the man sits back on one of the couches, lighting a cigar as he watches. “tell me pup, does it feel better than me? do you like riding the bear more than my cock?”

you whine, hips bucking at his growly voice. as you speed up, price laughs. he relaxes on the couch, cigar smoke filling the air, making you dizzy. tells you when to speed up or to slow down. when to grind harder or softer. directs you as if you’re making him a personal porno.

“ah, now look at that.” he stands, setting his cigar down on an ashtray. walking to you, he crouches down, “now pup, look at what you’ve done.”

he pulls the bear plush from between your legs, holding it up. it’s drenched in your slick, fur glistening. “poor Fluffy, you’ve made him a mess.” he sighs, throwing it on the ground, “dirty pup. can’t control yourself can you?” you shake your head, shaky hands reaching for him while you babble. 

his eyes scan over your body as you cling to him. ears low as your thighs tremble. you yap and whine at him- something about how it wasn’t enough, you didn’t cum, to please let you cum. 

Price sighs as if you’re an inconvenience. his eyes linger on your cunt. its dripping with slick, puffy and flushed from all the friction. he meets your gaze. melting at your teary, desperate expression. he doesn’t show it, instead reaching out, repositioning you. your back meets the hardwood, legs forced apart as he slots between them.

price doesn’t even look at you, his eyes trained on your cunt. his fingers poke and prod, parting your lips to watch your clit twitch when exposed. your hips buck as you squirm, causing a hand to grip your thigh and still you.

“such a desperate bitch,” his eyes finally meet yours as he slaps the inside of your thigh, “maybe i should get you a stud, hm? give you to some mutt, let him fuck you? then you’ll know how good i am to you pup.” his fingers start rubbing slow circles on your clit, “simon tells me his mutt is always full of energy. if you get this wet grinding, you’ll be yowling around that pups knot.”

prices eyes dart away from yours, ignoring your babbles as he continues to inspect your cunt. he slides a finger in, eyebrows furrowing. his other hand leaves your thigh, slapping your clit. he lets out shuddering breath as your warm, wet walls clench around hisi finger, his dick twitching.

“getting this fucking wet and loose over that thing?” he glances to the soaked bear, “need to teach you a fucking lesson. who your cunt is supposed to get wet for”

he pulls out, using the hand on your thigh to flip you over. he pulls your ass flush against his hips, a hand in your hair to force your upper body down. the bear lays just in front of you.

he audibly scoffs when you reach out for it, bringing it close for comfort. price pulls your tail, making you instinctively arch your back. he grinds your hips back on him, groaning. “shh, keep fucking still.” he grunts, rutting his clothed dick into you

it takes only seconds for your dripping holes to wet his jeans. even less time for him to unbutton his pants and shove his boxes down. with his cock now free, he thrusts between your thighs.

your slick acts as lube as he fucks the fat flesh of your thighs. “bloody fucking hell.” he growls. his dick just barely pokes out the other side, your thick flesh completely consuming him.

price angels himself, now nudging your clit with every thrust. you whine and squirm pathetically beneath him, back arching as he spanks your ass. he uses the hand in your hair to shove your face into the toy bear, forcing you to inhale the scent of your own slick.

you beg and whine into the plush, your voice now muffled. he continues, not giving in and fucking your cunt, grinning as you start to sob. he presses your face harder against the bear, fucking your thighs the same he would your cunt. his hips slam against your ass, stinging the flesh and making it flush.

within minutes, price cums all over your thighs. thick globs spill down the front of them onto the floor. as he pulls away, he pulls you with him- the hand in your hair forcing you onto your knees.

“look at the mess you’ve made,” he scolds, free hand circling your clit. the bear lays discarded on the floor, stuffing now soaked with drool and slick. there’s a puddle of his cum on the ground, mixing with your fluids. he ignores your babbles as you cry about not cumming, instead he pushing your face to the ground.

“i’ve taught you better than this, love. you know better than to make a mess without cleaning it.” price shoves your cheek into the puddle of his cum, the now cold liquid smearing across your face, “once you’ve cleaned up your mess, ill clean you.”

he lets you up. his hand trailing along your body to your cunt, slipping two fingers in, finally giving you what you’ve been begging for. “might even make you cum, hm?” he slowly thrusts his fingers, “ that floor better be fucking sparkling by the time i come back.” as he pulls out, he slaps your ass agiain. a sadistic smirk spreads over his face as he gets up, taking his cigar with him as he leaves.

tonight you’ll definitely be clinging to him, and not that fucking bear plush. 

[whats-amata-you]

have a meme