#there's no way to make that long story short

[boopjuice]

I did an assignment about this once. The fighting feels a lot like other parts of the queer community, specifically anti-kink, turning on others within the same community. The aces that distance themselves from those of us who distinctly Do Not Want Sex are essentially pushing us under the bus for the sake of trying to appeal to aphobes so the leopards eat our faces first.

But what really gets me is that, for as much as those kinds of people try to assert that they're "not like the other aces" no aphobe is going to see them as valid either way. If you're sex repulsed you're sick and need help or you're just scared. If you're sex indifferent or sex favorable, are you really ace then? It seems like you're just lying to yourself to feel special.

Or maybe you have a hormone imbalance. Maybe you're sick. Maybe you're just scared to have sex and can't admit it.

Long story short, if you have to make yourself palatable to someone to earn their favor then it's not worth it. "But I'm one of the good ones," will only work until you're the only one left.

the asexual double edged sword is that a lot of people, particularly queer discoursers(tm) online, are really really rancid about ace people who have sex, I mean like stunningly awful, so naturally sex favorable/indifferent asexuals will be very keen on making sure that they aren't erased within their own community and that people at large know they exist. at the same time, people are also Very Bad about ace people who don't have sex, and sex averse/repulsed asexuals face a lot of pressure both on societal and interpersonal scales to submit to sex that they don't want, and so naturally it'll really rub them the wrong way to constantly have "but don't worry, ace people can still conform to the societal expectation!" appended to their PSAs about their experiences of asexuality. and so everyone's just kinda upset and annoyed all the time when instead it should be peace and love on planet ace.

[flowerandblood]

Hi, for the ask game you’re making

Glass cuts deepest

🖼️ Museum

🍁 Autumn

💐 Care

🎃 Jealousy

😬 Semi-public sex

🍓 Sexual tension

Congratulations on the milestone 😊!

The Art of Body

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ prompts: museum, autumn, jealousy, care, sexual tension, semi-public sex ]

[ warnings: unprotected sex, smut, mention of sexual trauma ]

A short written as a celebration of my 4000 followers milestone as part of this ask game, which is part of Glass Cuts Deepest story.

Rino Stefano Tagliafierro is the animation artist of François Boucher's "Leda and the Swan" 1740 [post by eucanthos]

______

"Are you sure? I don't want to force you to do anything. It's the middle of the school year, I'm sure there'll be a lot of people there." Wright muttered, looking at him with uncertainty.

He felt frustration, knowing what she meant by people.

Women.

The truth was that since they had been engaged, he had gradually but successfully managed to simply pretend that he didn't see them. When they were in a restaurant or on a walk he would focus only on her and on talking to her, often holding her hand – it made him feel safer, like when you are looking down a great precipice while holding on to the railing.

He was very proud of himself when one day they went to the cinema together to see an animation they both really wanted to watch – it turned out that there were women sitting on either side of their seats. Wright wanted to back out and just leave, recognising that they didn't need to see the film at all, but he was tired of running away all the time.

When they sat down, he shifted in his seat as close to Wright as possible, not wanting the person sitting next to him to touch him – his fiancée had been leaning over his ear throughout the screening, asking if everything was okay, and he only nodded.

He couldn't remember much of what he saw – he was unable to focus as he felt only the rapid pounding of his heart and the cold sweat on his back.

When they left the cinema, he felt relieved, but also proud, because he had done it – even though he felt sick a few times and wanted to vomit, he had endured and nothing had happened.

He felt that he was slowly ready to just go out to people and not wonder who he was passing on the way.

"I want to go there. It's the biggest museum in our country. We've been talking about it for a long time." He said, putting his black turtleneck over his head and sighed, seeing that he had ruined his elaborately styled hairdo by doing so.

Wright noticed this and involuntarily reached into his hair, trying to comb it properly again with her fingers.

He swallowed hard, simultaneously frightened and pleased that she had touched him so suddenly – he repeated to himself at times like this that he trusted her, her familiar scent and the warmth of her skin affecting him in a calming way.

"If you say so. Maybe you're right. I've wanted to see this place for a long time too." She admitted finally, and he smiled with satisfaction, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Give me a moment. I need to change." She said, opening his wardrobe, looking in it probably for one of her dresses.

Some part of him wanted her to change in front of him – she never did. On the other hand, he dreaded it – he had never seen her naked – not completely.

He had never seen her bare breasts or buttocks, only felt them beneath his hands when he put his hand under her shirt.

He swallowed hard as she threw him a warm smile and locked herself in the bathroom, feeling both relieved and disappointed.

He waited patiently for her, and when he heard her come out, he froze – her floral dress was fastened from the front with large white buttons, a fluffy, light-coloured jumper over her shoulders. She had said something to him, probably that she was ready, but all he could think about was that she hadn't put her bra on.

He could easily see the shape of her nipples under the material and something about the sight frustrated him.

Why should others look at something that even he couldn't see?

He wanted to say it, but before he opened his mouth he thought it was unfair – he himself wouldn't want her to dictate what he could and couldn't wear, and he thought his remark might be rude.

"Let's go." He said finally.

It took them a couple of hours to get there – during this time Wright had bought them tickets for all the exhibitions online, so they wouldn't have to wait in long queues at the box office. He liked how organised she was – the fact that she always helped him and didn't leave everything on his head.

He felt he could rely on her.

When they got out of the car, they ran ahead, holding hands – an intense autumn rain had broken up all around them, which meant that by the time they reached the main entrance, they were all wet.

The security guard scanned their tickets and pointed the way they should follow – after a while, their eyes were met by spacious, bright, richly lit halls with walls filled with paintings by great artists, with sculptures of wood, bronze and marble all around them.

His fiancée approached one of the medieval statues depicting the Beautiful Madonna and Child, the one they both knew well from their art history textbooks.

"Look! It's even more beautiful than in the pictures." She said cheerfully, quickly grabbing her phone, taking pictures of the sculpture.

He, however, stared at her dully, seeing the wet material of her dress clinging to her skin, her nipples clearly outlined, popping from the cold.

He felt both irritation and desire at the sight, his manhood pulsed softly in his trousers, expressing his desire to touch her.

He grunted and turned his head away, walking over to one of the baroque paintings hanging on the wall, trying not to think about it.

I'm sexualising her too much, he rebuked himself in his mind, feeling a kind of shame by doing what he himself would never want to experience again in his life.

He regained his good humour and walked with her through the long corridors filled with art, stopping constantly at some artefact – they talked about everything, delighting in the workmanship and details together, while criticising what they didn't like.

He felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach again when, standing at one of the sculptures, he saw that the man standing opposite them was looking straight at Wright's breasts – he would have thought he was being oversensitive again if it hadn't been for the slight smile of satisfaction on the man's lips, which told him that he was pleased with how much was visible through the thin material of her dress.

He didn't know why, but he grabbed her wrist and tugged at it, pulling her the other way, frustrated and enraged.

"What happened? Did someone touch you?" She mumbled, following him obediently, thinking it was all about him, as usual.

He stopped and looked at her, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"Did you have to dress like that? Everyone's looking at you." He hissed, but immediately regretted his words – Wright blinked and shook her head, horror and discomfort in her eyes, as if what he had said had caused her pain.

"What do you mean? I don't understand. After all, my dress doesn't even reveal my cleavage." She said resentfully, looking down, only after a moment noticing what he and everyone else had seen.

She looked at him again and pressed her lips together, covering her breasts with her jumper and her hands, as if the sight of them was something disgusting, worthy of condemnation.

He felt a sting in his heart at the sight – at the thought that she felt it was her fault that other men were looking where they shouldn't.

He swallowed hard and grabbed her hands, lowering them down, making her involuntarily reveal again what she had tried to cover up only moments before.

"– forgive me – I shouldn't have said that – it's just – fuck – I just I have a hard time with the idea that someone else might be... looking at something that even I couldn't see –"

"After all, you can look at it." She whispered, speaking so that no one could hear her. "Even now, if you want to."

"Now?" He muttered, surprised by her words.

What did she mean?

"We can go to the toilet and lock ourselves in the cabin. Our first time was like that too. You did it because the area around you didn't remind you of the place where you faced something bad. About the bed." She reminded him, and he swallowed loudly, realising it was true.

He looked down once more, at the thing he wanted so badly, and nodded slowly.

"Okay."

He felt like a little boy, unable to look at her in shame when the toilet door closed behind them. Once they made sure they were alone, they hid in one of the cabins and just looked at each other for a while.

He felt his heart thump harder in his chest as her hands slowly rose to the buttons of her dress – he watched in disbelief as she began to undo it one by one, his erection twitching and swelling in his trousers, aching with desire at the sight of her bare skin.

When she reached the height of her belly, she stopped and her hands dropped – her dress was unbuttoned, but revealed only a small line of her naked skin – he could see that she was breathing heavily as was he, panting with excitement.

Involuntarily, he took one slow step towards her, then another – his large hand rose uncertainly to the height of her chest and pushed the material of her dress aside in a gentle, lazy motion. He sighed deeply, immediately covering what he saw with his fingers, feeling himself breathe through his mouth out of lust – he looked into her eyes as her hand closed over his, encouraging him to sink deeper into the structure of her plump, soft bosom.

He leaned in and kissed her, unable to withstand the tension he felt inside – his lower abdomen was filled with a wonderfully familiar, warm, tickling sensation that made his length completely hard. He pressed his hips against her abdomen, rolling them back and forth, trying to somehow soothe the need for closeness and tenderness that only she could give him.

"– feels good? –" She breathed out into his mouth, letting their lips caress again and again with the sticky clicks of their saliva, the skin of her breasts wonderfully warm and swollen, melting beneath his fingers.

"– pull down your panties –" He instructed, and she moaned softly into his mouth, immediately obeying his command.

He let her go for a moment, dealing with his trousers, only to release his heavy, painfully swollen erection – as soon as her underwear landed on the ground, he grabbed her in his arms and lifted her, so that her breasts were at the level of his face.

They both cried out as at the same time his lips closed over her hard nipple and the head of his cock opened her wide – he gasped in pleasure, feeling how warm and moist she was, but not seeing anything that was happening from her waist down, covered by the material of her dress.

"– ah –" She mewled as his arms embraced her in a confident hug and pressed her body against the cold tiles, trying to keep her balance as he sank all the way into her body with one, sure thrust of his hips.

"– be quiet or I'll stop –" He threatened and they both froze when they heard someone enter – his cock pulsed inside her greedily as he simply continued with her in that position.

He felt her hands tighten in his hair, her hot pussy squeezed his manhood hard as his tongue swirled around her little nipple, teasing and sucking on it alternately.

He grunted quietly as he felt her begin to roll her hips – some part of him wanted to stop her, hearing that someone was still inside, however the other, more animalistic part of him just wanted to pound into her – and that's what he did.

He heard her squeal softly and she immediately pressed her face against his hair, trying to deafen the sound, as their naked bodies began to slam against each other with loud, sticky smacks of her moisture. He was no longer interested in whether or not the person inside knew what had just taken place – all he could focus on was their heavy, ragged breaths, the wonderful, growing tension in his loins, the squeeze in his testicles testifying that he was close.

He couldn't contain the low growl of delight that passed in vibration across her breast, couldn't contain how desperate he was, couldn't contain what euphoria possessed him at the thought of looking, smelling, touching her naked body, experiencing nothing but bliss.

"– Aemond –" She mumbled softly into his ear, so that only he was able to hear it – her small fingers clenched on his body allowing her to keep her balance and take what he was giving her, as shocked by what they were doing as he was.

All he could think about was how warm and wet she was, how easily she welcomed him deep inside her, how much she wanted him even though they had been together for so long.

The level of trust he held in her made him able to focus only on pleasure, and after a few messy, loud slaps he came inside her with a gasp of relief.

Her nails digging into his shoulders and hair made it almost painful when he felt her body shake with an aggressive, intense orgasm, causing her to stifle a moan with difficulty, making a quiet, whimpering sound.

"– shhh – shhh, little one –" He whispered, still deep inside her, feeling his manhood and her fleshy walls pulsing in one united rhythm, snuggled into her soft, warm chest.

The touch of her bare skin, her heart beating beneath his cheek was so wonderfully intimate, personal, sweet.

Why hadn't he done this before?

They were both relieved when they heard the sound of the water being drained in the other cabin, then the door opening and someone's footsteps indicating that they were alone.

"– Aemond – my legs are aching –" She mumbled, still crossing her calves on his back, supported only by his hands that held her buttocks.

"– just a little longer –" He muttered, pressing his face harder into the silky structure of her plump breasts.

Just a little longer.

[backtothefanfiction]

Reading this just made me feel more proud of my writing abilities and reminded me of some of my favourite sex scenes I have ever written and it has really made me want to highlight them for you and why I love them so much.

Each one of these scenes is so completely different from one another, showing the true depths of the characters within them as they use these acts of intimacy to really help develop and flesh out who the characters are both as individuals and as partners. Each scene has a different need to be fulfilled and emotions to be shared and I am so incredibly proud of each one of them.

Angel In The Garden of Evil Chapter 19: Wash It Away

A mob!au Peter Parker Story

The intimacy of this scene coming as a conclusion for all the characters have been through not just during the story as you the reader reads it but also all the history they have together. It’s oddly sweet and tender as he takes the time to carry her into the house, to wash her in the shower and show her how much she really means to him. To literally wash away the old before they make love and bring in the new. It’s almost a whole cycle of life, death and rebirth moment. It’s the deep longing connection of husband and wife and how some loves just endure despite their tribulations.

Make Me Forget

Amazing Spider-Man Peter Parker x Harry Osborn Imagine (part two of crushed)

Running to the one person you shouldn’t to make the hurt go away. Asking your now ex boyfriends best friend to take you as his own after he rescued you from your abuser and asking them to claim you as their own and show you how to be treated right. To kiss away every hurt. To rewrite every touch on your body. It’s both painful and yet beautiful and hopeful and healing.

Nothing Ever Good Happens After 2am

A Joel Miller Story (Part 3 of the Insecure Series)

This is hate fucking at its finest. There’s so much tension and history and anger for both the past and present. Although so familiar with one another’s bodies they instinctively reach for each other due to that familiarity, but there is no resemblance of the way they once fucked to how they do now. The way they know each others bodies so well they can weaponise them against each other to do even more damage, leaving neither of them fully satisfied in the end and the act in fact only works to make their situation worse just feels heartbreaking on everyone, characters and readers alike. It’s short and to the point and makes me so proud.

What Benny Doesn’t Know Chapter 5

Frankie’s story

This is all about toxic love. It’s all the things well accepted when we are blinded by love. Overlooking the glaring problems just so you can be with them. Accepting their lies and bad behaviour. It’s doing drugs in the middle of the act. It’s cheating on partners. It is love and pain and longing and finally getting what you want but it’s at the wrong moment in the timelines and destined to fail from the second it started. Although a fun read and a wild time, the emotional weight and lessons for the reader also really shine through and I will always be proud of how I chose to handle this one, both for the characters and the over all story and it’s development.

the secret to writing good smut that doesn't feel like you're just repeating the same words for junk and fucking over and over is to spend your effort writing about everything happening around the sex and everything happening inside the heads of the people having sex and before you know it you have four paragraphs of introspection and two paragraphs describing the space and it's okay to use the word cock again

[prettieinpink]

HOW TO GET OUT OF A READING SLUMP

Inspired by how I'm currently trying to read again. 

START SHORTER. Try to read something manageable for you, and it doesn’t have to even be a full novel. It could be an essay on something that interests you or any short stories you find. Get into the habit of reading at your own pace, till you feel ready to take on something bigger. 

SET REALISTIC GOALS. Instead of wanting a goal like completing a book within a week, I would say 20 minutes of reading per day or at least 2 hours per week. You don’t have to track the time when you’re reading, but make mental notes of when you start reading and how long you read. 

EXPLORE. You may even be tired of reading certain genres, and not notice it. While in a slump, I would explore different books and see what interests me the most. For example, if you love reading romance books, try some action ones instead(or vice versa.)

REREAD FAVES. The familiarity of some books can help us get back into the swing of reading. Every time I reread a book, I always pick up on new details that I didn’t notice before. Reread one of your favourite books and try to spot details that you didn’t spot before. 

MAKE A LIST. Create a list of all the books that you want to read or reread. I feel like the process of seeing all the books you could, really encourages you to pick up that book. 

TRY A DIFFERENT FORMAT. For a lot of us, reading paperback or hard copy is the way to go. However, when I’m in a slump, I feel like opting for a different format helps me to get back into reading. For example, a digital book, or an e-book. (or vice versa)

READ IN A DIFFERENT ENVIRONMENT. I love LOVE, reading in an actual library. It is not for everyone, but a change of scenery can help. Some ideas can be at a park, a cafe, beaches and or a nature trail. 

PAIR READING WITH ANOTHER ACTIVITY. Some examples are exercising, cooking, travelling/commuting or doing mindfulness activities. This is more for getting back into the habit, once you’ve got it again, I would say to focus only on reading. 

[power-handmaiden]

Day 315: Bisexually Satisfied By My Healthy Work/Life Balance

After I had a lot of complicated thoughts after reading my tingler yesterday, it was relaxing to go to one that is extremely straightforward about its message. It even did some of my work for me when it went and compared itself to "Not Pounded By My Soul-Crushing Job Because I Quit". Well, compared and contrasted.

The way I see it, this one could be much more directly compared to "The Long Tetromino Piece Falls Into My Butt Just In Time". Both are stories about hobbies becoming a source of stress rather than an outlet for it. Even beyond the surface-level details, there are still major differences though- in this tingler, the stress of work being something that causes the need for an outlet is a very major part of the message rather than just being subtext. Another is that, in this one, the protagonist is actually successful in making a living off of doing what brings him joy. Probably in part because in this tingler, he didn't have to be pressured into it, it was a decision he came to on his own.

I like thinking of these two tinglers together, especially because less than two months passed between their publication. It's like there were some things left unexplored in "The Long Tetromino Piece Falls Into My Butt Just In Time", that this tingler came back to revisit. Different ways this kind of story could go, if the protagonist were of a different temperament. Sometimes it's best to just let hobbies and pastimes be that, but what about people who could enjoy bringing their interests into their work? What about people who naturally stumble upon something they'd like to make a living doing, in their spare time? As this tingler states itself, the right balance depends on the person and their relation to "work" and "life". It makes sense to see this side of it as well, coming from an author who now has traditionally published novels after starting his career putting out these short stories he just wrote for fun.

[shellshocklove]

ok WOW!!!!! i just finished reading this for the first time and i'm speechless! i started reading this way too late, thinking i'd read one chapter before bed just to check it out. fast forward five chapters it was, and i'm not kidding 06.30am, and i was in a concerning "only one more chapter and i'll go to bed"-situation. anyways i fell asleep, woke up way too few hours later still thinking about these two, and thinking of them i did until i finally could read the rest before bed.

your writing is so beautiful! lots and lots of beautiful sentences and smart description. it's so clear you have a love for reading, and know your stuff when it comes to literature and mythology. in one of the warnings you said this story was self-indulgent and there is nothing better than a self-indulgent story. you so clearly put your heart and soul into this, and it's so lovely to read. it makes me so happy bc that joy shines through, hiding between the lines.

reading this felt like when i read "the secret history" for the first time. i couldn't put that book down either. i saw you reference it in this series, and i knew i was right in my feeling of this story. in a way it felt catered to my interests. like in the last part where you included joni. and as someone with a joni mitchell url (and someone who's had a joel story inspired by "for the roses" on the wip backburner for a while now), she's a big inspiration to me and i love her music. when you directly mentioned my favorite song on blue "the last time i saw richard" and the line "all romantics meet the same fate someday" i knew i was gonna be in my feelings later 😭

the story arc you've put them through has been delicious to read. the perfect balance between hot and filthy smut, and feelings that made my heart ache in the best way (and i mean. i've stopped and read a paragraph again bc i needed to really feel it in my chest). you've written the impending doom and tragedy of their relationship so well. it's hidden in every part, blowing air into a balloon ready to pop at any minute. the push and pull of the early chapters, of the "we shouldn't be doing this" to the "i can't quit you" (<- also a brokeback mountain reference or am i trippin'?).

the chapters in new york i think are my favorite. the freedom they had there to explore their blooming relationship, but again also the tragedy of how they could only be free there with no hiding :(( i knew it was coming in the last chapter. when rachel's advances got turned down by joel in new york i knew it was gonna be her that caught them. that last line broke me </3 idk i'm hoping rachel and joel's pre-existing relationship can help this in any way. rachel is hurt, but could she do that to joel? could she do that to the man she loves, even if he loves another? maybe the tragedy is that her love for him is what dooms his and reader's relationship </3

anyway, long story short, i loved this very very much! you have a gift for writing, and i'm so happy you wrote this! thank you!! <3

a lover’s pinch | masterlist

professor!joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni series summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves? series warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], alcohol consumption, ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, explicit smut, angst, secret relationship, joel has both his daughters, joel's profession is very ooc but the core of his personality [grumpy], lore [dilf], mannerisms [being a secret softy] etc etc are all as true to character as my two humble hands can manage. explicit warnings included in each part. main masterlist ziggy's moodboard | ziggy’s moodboard II sil's moodboard ALP playlist

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten |

╰┈➤ night breeze [an ALP interlude set between seven & eight]

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part8. a complete silence rule

MINORS DNI!

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: you and Vi came to library for studying, but she can`t resist touching you

・❥・ genre: smut + kinda friends to lovers

・❥・ word count: 1.9k

✎ warnings: 18+, smut, dom!vi, oral sex, fingering, sex in public place

WHEN I NEEDED YOU masterlist

a week after Vi was discharged from the hospital, she returned to college. she wasn’t allowed to play yet, but she didn’t miss a single practice, even if it just meant warming up with the others and then sitting on the bench to watch. she recovered quickly, but if you hadn’t insisted, she would’ve tried to play on the first day back. the doctor had strictly forbidden it, and you made sure to keep an eye on her. though Vi was eager to return to her normal pace, full recovery required time, as the risks were still too high.

another bit of good news - Troy was no longer on the team or even at college. you saw him clearing out his locker as his parents and security escorted him away. when you asked your dad if he knew anything about it, he simply kissed your forehead and told you not to worry. either way, you didn’t mind; whatever your father had done, it had worked. truth be told, it even scared you a little, but Troy got what he deserved. naturally, all accusations were dropped, and your mom mentioned in confidence that your father had threatened Troy’s family, saying you’d press charges for assault and all the vile things their son had done. it was a relief to finally exhale; for a moment, it even felt like the air without your ex was lighter.

without Troy’s bullying, Josh finally left the team, free from the person who’d tormented him for years. he seemed to have started playing guitar in his garage. but the biggest surprise was that he’d found a partner. according to Trish, they met at the last match and hit it off, though homophobic Troy had always intimidated Josh, and for good reason. long story short, many people in his social circle felt better without him, and you were glad it was over.

after classes, you met Vi in the parking lot. she kissed you on the lips and wrapped her arms around your waist, letting her hands slide lower. smiling mid-kiss, she murmured, “maybe I should transfer to another school”

“and why’s that?” you teased, slipping your hands under her shirt, pushing her jacket aside, and pulling her closer, which made Vi bite your lip.

“I can’t focus on school or anything serious when you walk around looking so gorgeous and tempting,” she said, squeezing your hips and leaning you against the hood of her car.

“I can’t stand my loneliness, especially when you two are kissing so sweetly out here for all to see,” interrupted a voice. it was Trish, standing behind you with her arms crossed. “just a reminder, Vi, that I was the one who first told your new girlfriend how beautiful you are, so both of you owe me”

finally, you and Vi let go of each other and laughed. Vi took your hand and said, “and I’ll be forever grateful to you for it”

“ready to go?” you asked Trish, who was still grinning as she watched the two of you.

“I came to say I won’t be able to make it today. mom’s not feeling well, and I want to stay with her. do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” Trish said, looking a little apologetic.

“of course, no problem at all. send her my best and wish her a speedy recovery. if she’d like, I can bring over some of my mom’s special soup; it’s really delicious,” you replied understandingly.

“that would be wonderful. thank you, I’ll text you about tomorrow” Trish gave you a quick hug goodbye before hurrying home.

“where were you two going, and what’s been rescheduled for tomorrow?” Vi asked, curious.

“the library. we have a history test coming up, and Trish and I often go there to focus. there’s a total silence rule, so we can’t gossip or listen to music. it sounds odd, but we get distracted so easily that the library’s our only hope,” you explained.

“want me to go with you?” she looked into your eyes. “unless this is some kind of special friend ritual?”

“no, no, nothing like that, but are you sure you want to sit quietly for an hour with a history book?” you raised an eyebrow at her.

“yes, especially since I have the test too. I’m not playing right now, so the coach won’t be able to get me extra credit for athletic involvement,” Vi said a little sadly, clearly missing her usual active lifestyle. but you weren’t giving in - the doctor’s orders were law, especially for Vi, and she deserved the best care.

“alright, then, let’s go,” you decided to steer the topic away from sports to take her mind off it.

“why an hour, though?” Vi asked, referring to what you had mentioned earlier.

“well, it’s not strict or anything, just a rule Trish and I came up with: an hour of uninterrupted studying, then any break or distraction we want. it’s like a little motivation,” you shrugged with a smile.

“if it’s the rule, then let’s follow it,” Vi said as she opened the passenger door for you and got behind the wheel.

ten minutes later, you arrived. there weren’t many people there, so you took your and Trish’s usual seats near the bookshelves. as you’d told Vi, there was complete silence, only occasionally broken by the sound of turning pages. Vi sat next to you, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair. when she turned back, she caught you staring at her hands, biting your lip, which made her smile and raise an eyebrow. you felt a bit embarrassed, but it wasn’t surprising - you never focused on Trish this way, yet with Vi nearby, you realized it might be a little harder to concentrate.

you quickly looked away, pulling out a sheet with the test questions. each question had a list of recommended books to review. pointing out a few titles to Vi, you both set off to find them. the history section had plenty of books, so it took a little time to gather what you needed.

Vi leaned over to you and very quietly asked where she should find a particular book, you pointed to the bottom shelf, and she nodded. running your eyes over the stand with books, you saw that a little higher is hidden a book, the author of which is your teacher, usually it is occupied by someone, but today was a good day. when you reached for her, Vi looked up and was very pleased with what she saw. the length of your skirt gave a good view of your underwear, which made Vi feel incredible desire and attraction. she carefully stood up and slowly ran her hand down your leg from your ankle to your thigh until her fingers were under your skirt. you almost didn't let go of the book from your surprise, your eyes became round and goosebumps ran through your body, you wanted to say something, but Vi only put her index finger to her lips. she took the book and placed it on the shelf, leaving her other hand on your butt, glancing over at you, she smiled at you, desire burning in her eyes, you felt incredibly attracted to her, so you moved a little closer. her lips covered yours, you tasted her as her warm tongue slipped between yours, Vi pulled you closer to you, squeezing your butt tighter, her other hand ending up under your shirt, her thumb gently caressing your skin as her lips kissed you.

she pulled away from you and leaned into your ear, saying “the rule of complete silence, remember?”. her fingers ran up the fabric of your panties under your skirt and she ran her hand down touching you. she smirked when she felt how wet you were, running a finger over your clit you rested your head on her shoulder holding back a moan. every movement seems very slow and you wanted more, you could feel the vibrations going through your body when her finger started stimulating your clit more actively, you held on to her with your hands so you wouldn't fall. she covered you with her lips again and you felt her finger enter you, a wave of pleasure covered your body, you immediately started to move on it, kissing her more passionately, your hips moving and your body getting heavier. she wasn't about to stop, her finger digging into you harder and harder as you struggled to hold back a scream. only the rustle of the books reminded you where you were now, you almost didn't care, you could feel your wetness running on her finger, you were so wet and excited that you didn't care if they could hear you now, you wanted her touch, you wanted to cum from her fingers, you wanted to show her what pleasure she brings you. when her second finger was inside you tightened your grip on her, and Vi sped up as much as possible, your legs were just shaking at this point. Vi's other hand pulled your bra down and squeezed your breasts, you threw your head back and surrendered to the feeling, you came so hard it made your head spin. holding you, she pulled her hand out of your panties and pressed you against the bookshelf, kissing you again. her lips moved to your neck and trailed down.

“what are you doing?” you said almost inaudibly in surprise.

Vi just looked up at you and answered “you said we had an hour”

goosebumps ran down your spine and she returned to your neck again, kneeling, Vi placed your leg over her shoulder and lifted your skirt, putting her index finger to her lips again to keep you quiet.

her fingers gently pulled your panties to the side, and she ran her tongue over your pussy, collecting a mess you had done earlier. your body was so heavy that you grabbed the shelf with one hand to keep from falling. her lips pressed against your wetness, she didn't tease like before, her tongue was immediately inside you, you opened your mouth again in a silent moan and ran a hand into her hair. Vi's hands wrapped around your ass, and she ate you out greedily as you held back a moan. she was sucking your clit and running her tongue which was giving you incredible pleasure, you were moving your hips to ride her face as she explored your most intimate place. the second orgasm didn't take long, you came from her tongue even faster than from her fingers. you didn't have any strength left, but how nice it was. she put your panties back in place and climbed on top of you.

“I see you liked it,” she said teasingly. you just bit your lip and nodded, straightening your skirt.

“maybe next time I can sit on your face properly” you winked at Vi and ran your finger over her lips which were still wet from you.

“no reason to wait, you can still stand so…” Vi smiled and took your things and led you by the hand out of the library to the questioning looks of the others.

[welcometohellfilm]

Congrats to everyone who has been working on W2H2! 🎉 If it's alright, I'd like to ask to ask 2 questions:

Is there by chance an official ref of colors for Debbie, or is it still up to interpretation at the moment?

Would you say that your personal, real life experiences within the 10 years moving from W2H to W2H2 shifted the tone/story of the series in some way? Something that I've always been fascinated with when I started looking more into W2H was the shift in Sock's character from the original comic -> first film -> second film, and Jonathan's character from the first film -> second film.

Thank you! ✨

I actually just made some 'official'-ish colors for Debbie! Her voice actor Kaitlyn wanted something to use on a banner for conventions haha... so here you go!

2. I'm not really sure how to answer this one, haha. I mean I've definitely changed as a person over the course of making each iteration of W2H. I started the comic while I was at community college, before I went to art school. I adapted it into an animation for my graduation project. And I started W2H2 a couple years after I graduated college. So there's a good 2-3 years between each attempt at W2H I've done, haha. I think a lot of my original ideas from the comic had to change because it needed to be condensed into a short film. I didn't even GET to Jonathan yet in the comic! Some things just didn't make sense to me anymore, like the idea of Sock already having a human body count. It'd just be absurd for him to be able to hide it for so long! Plus, if I made it so that Sock has only ever entertained the idea of murder, it makes his new job that much more appealing-- it's a chance for him to really lean in to this thing he's always had to hide. Between the first and second films though, I mean... I think there's been some tonal shift, for sure (I don't know about a character shift? We'll get to that haha) But basically, when I was first thinking about W2H2, my idea was "Sock and Jonathan hang out and attempt to figure out touch physics, also there's some drama about a journal Jonathan keeps." All of the hell stuff is something that came from bouncing ideas around with my friends, Michael and Neil. I was worried that sending Jonathan to hell would be too bonkers for a "2nd episode", but we all kinda agreed that enough time had passed that the fans would probably enjoy something higher stakes, so it would be fine. (I'll give everyone a moment to realize this conversation would've been happening in 2015-16... ha.)

We also kind of thought, y'know... I have no idea how many more of these there's even gonna' be, so why not go a little bigger with this one? W2H2 is a higher stakes story than what I set out to make in the beginning, that's for sure. It is interesting to compare all of them.. the employee handbook was actually from the comic and I cut that because it wasn't helpful for W2H... but then it became helpful for W2H2, so it came back! Haha. I'm curious to know in what ways people think the characters have changed though. (And is that a good thing or a bad thing?) Especially a character like Jonathan, no one's really even seen that much of him yet, I think most of the characterization comes from fandom, or like... art I've drawn, I guess? Haha... I'm not sure! I guess Sock's a little more confident and antagonistic in this one (though he'll have his moments of hesitation... we're only at Part 1 right now!), and Jonathan has had to become a more vocal/active character, just by nature of the kind of story it is, I suppose. But yeah, I'm not sure! Happy to hear your guys' thoughts though!

[caxycreations]

I feel like you guys are missing the point.

He's a 900+ year old Time Lord. He's living as much as he possibly can, and he feels like it's nowhere near enough, and far too much, all at the same time.

This SAME MAN, same face and all, is the person who said "Sometimes I think a Time Lord lives too long"

He's the man who, literally in his NEXT regeneration, spends a third of his series depressed because he can't find an ounce of joy in the universe himself and NEEDS humans to show around so he can catch a hint of it through them.

The Doctor even states that humans "look like giants" to him, specifically BECAUSE of the fact that they live so much in such a short time.

This isn't a show about an awesome, nigh-immortal time-traveling alien.

It's a show about the pains and soul-crushing responsibilities that come with time travel and immortality.

And, of course, you're all forgetting the glaring fact of this episode, entirely separate from the quotes you're so eagerly judging:

THE MAN THE DOCTOR IS TALKING TO HAS TO EAT PEOPLE TO STAY YOUNG.

He literally KILLS PEOPLE to survive. The Doctor, talking him out of eternal life, is not just doing so because "long life bad", he's doing so because "eating people to live forever is an awful way to be" as well.

You're also disregarding his point entirely in favor of giving bad-faith analysis of the show.

His point is that whether you have 10 years or 20, how you spend that time is what matters, not the amount of time you have to spend.

He has eternity, and it's not worth it. He knows it isn't, and he's trying to stop anyone else from making that mistake. He's living for so long, and has lived so much, but it just isn't worth it anymore.

Lucy Lacemaker, from Satellite City (or, more officially, The August Few: Amygdala, though she never says this in there) puts it very well:

"Billions of years we've been about. And life's not worth much once the rest is gone. You get bored of the wind and the birds and the sound of laughter and the smell of pine. Life is like a piece of paper. And the writing is our lives. Our stories. When you only have 90 years, the ink turns to gold. So valuable are the words, the days you live. Cause soon, the story will end. But what if you have a never-ending page? A bottomless inkwell? The more you write, the less it all means. That's our curse. We live so long that it's not even life anymore. We're not living forever, we're dying forever."

@another-normal-anomaly said that if they kicked ass for 80 years, got saved, and kicked ass another 80, that's twice as much as they would have done. But that's still only 160 years, and it reinforces the Doctor's point; it's not the time that matters, it's the person, because others may spend that 160 years doing nothing, and some may spend that 160 years doing everything.

But they would still only have 160 years. Not forever. What the Doctor is warning against is eternity. Eternity is pointless.

@dagny-hashtaggart said the show is hypocritical in it's transhumanist stance for featuring an "awesome, nigh-immortal, time-traveling alien", but that just tells me they've either never watched the show or they have and 100% missed the point of the character of the Doctor.

Because the Doctor is not happy with his long life. He's not content or pleased about it. He's miserable. The only worth he finds in it is giving other, shorter-lived life forms the pleasure of seeing things they never could otherwise, and protecting the lives of those more fragile than him because he, at his core, has two values above all others:

If it kills me, I can put an end to this opera of my life, and I can finally rest

If it doesn't kill me, it means I've stopped it and other, more meaningful lives will be spared.

The Doctor is not some happy, positive character. He's a victim of a tragedy, and that tragedy is, quite painfully obviously, the fact he lives so long. His lifespan, his regeneration, is a curse to him, not a blessing. The fact you can call the show hypocritical for that tells me you've never seen it, or you've never understood it.

@argumate made a crude joke about a man with a big dick, named after having a big dick, saying that life wasn't about having a big dick.

Well, fun fact. If your dick were, say, 14 inches, as a human (which is a real condition that has happened), you would have heart problems every time you got erect, be entirely unable to enjoy penetrative sex (aside from the heart problems, you'd be unable to get more than a small fraction of your length in without hurting them), and if you ever tried to get a little more out of it, you'd seriously injure your partner.

Not only that, but you'd have social problems as well. Try hiding the outline when your flaccid length still reaches down past your knee. You'd be a laughing stock early on, and if you had frequent erections (say during puberty, post-growth spurt, pre-calming of the hormones), you'd be unable to hide it no matter how hard you tried.

It would cause more issues than that, too, believe me. And yet you're saying if a man who suffered from all of these problems told you "it's not all fun and games, having a big dick", you'd mock him for not loving the "gift" he's been "blessed" with?

All of you missed the point of the show, the character, and even the point of the scene you're remarking on.

I expected better comprehension on this site.

[rafescorazon]

hii! to start, i love your writing soo much, and i really like how you incorporate all of these certain traits for different readers or ocs. I was just wondering if you could write a small thing of rafe’s kook diva girlfriend meeting sarah after they get back from morroco at the end of s4.

diva kook reader meeting sarah for the first time

warnings ，none!

✦‎ ˚ author's note ，this is so short bc i was rushing, but i hope that you enjoy it! also, i’m seriously hoping for the writers to mend their relationship for the next season!

“so, how long have you two been together?” she asked softly, her nails tapping against her glass as she moved her drink to sit in her lap as the two of you settle back against the outdoor couch on the patio.

turning to look at her, a small smile making it’s way to your face, “awhile now, we met during a party around a year ago.” sarah nodded with a small smile of her own.

“and things have been good?” she added lifting the rim of her glass to her lips, tilting it back to take a sip of her lemonade while you nodded, “yeah, things have been great.” you said as your hands come to rest in your lap.

since returning home from morocco, rafe had spent the last few weeks trying to mend his relationship with his younger sister and things were going good. they were awkward and tense in the beginning but slowly, things started to get better.

they obviously weren’t perfect and probably wouldn’t be for a long time, but they were trying and that’s all that really mattered. turning back to look at her, you open your mouth to speak but are quickly cut off by the sound of rafe’s voice coming from the house.

“baby!” he called out again, sarah snickered while you nod as a way to telling him you heard him. he pushed the patio door open wider before stepping outside, jogging down toward you.

resting your hands on his sides as he got closer, he looked to sarah for a moment before his eyes find yours, “gotta go run some errands, will you two be good here?” he asked, looking between you both.

nodding your head, you lean up to press a sweet kiss to his lips, “we’ll be fine,” you murmured against his mouth. at your soft kiss, his body relaxed and he reached his hand up, cupping your cheek while humming lowly.

as he pulled back, his eyes drift to his sister who just nodded with a soft smile, “yeah, we’ll be fine.” she added as she crossed her arms over her chest, a look of amusement in her eyes as she watched the interaction between you and him.

“good, i’ll be back soon.” he says, kissing your temple before gently pulling away from you, his touch lingering a bit longer than usual as he smiled softly to his sister before turning around and making his way back up toward the house.

with a soft sigh, you spin around to face sarah who had a smile on her face, “you’ve changed him.” she says as she steps forward, looping her arm with yours as she begins to lead you two down toward the dock. her comment made your heart flutter and your eyes softened as you look to her, “i did?” you asked and she nodded, “mhm.”

“now that he’s gone, c’mon, i’ve got some stories about him from when we were kids that you have to know,” she said with a soft smirk as the two of you continue walking, meanwhile you just laughed and followed after her.

[moomstersnuffer]

GUYS. LISTEN UP.

I fell down a rabbit hole on the internet today and I found something. Freaking Taron Egerton(Moomin's voice actor) and Edvin Endre(Snufkin's voice actor) acted in the same freaking movie

The parallels are crazy; I've been bouncing off every wall in my room I'm so happy

Basically, for the ones who don't want to watch the movie, Taron plays a guy named Eddie who's only dream...is to be a star. An Olympic star. He discovers the sport of ski jumping when he watches...wait for it...Edvin(aka Matti), the greatest ski jumper of his time.

So now Eddie is hooked and he's got a new idol who he absolutely admires. Long story short, he goes to Germany to learn and casually starts being coached by Hugh Jackman(not his name in the movie) which I was not prepared for.

Now he learns all this stuff and gets really good so he gets into the Olympics and he's about to make his mark in the world by attempting his biggest jump and who walks into the elevator on his way up? Matti, Eddie's ski jumper idol.

OMG it's literally so wholesome though because Matti gives Eddie like a pep talk because Eddie is nervous but all I was hearing was Moomin and Snufkin and I was practically screaming my head off because what the actual—

Anyways, today has been a good day. Unless you count the fact that the guy I am hopelessly in love with let me borrow his ID before ID checks because I forgot mine. Then it becomes an absolutely perfect day. Yes, yes, I am very delulu. What else is new?

Back to the movie, I understand what life is like. It's busy, it's stressful, it's lowkey depressing, etc. I, myself, had more urgentthings to do with my time todaybut as you can see, i did the opposite(i regret nothing). So, for you guys, Imma share just the Eddie/Taron/Moomin & Matti/Edvin/Snufkin convo below.

Thank me later. Here you go

[titleknown]

Well, long story short, Bob's kinda got all indications of being on the spectrum but heavily in denial of it, especially given a thing I found out he wrote in his book about how his parents didn't put him on meds to keep the pretention of normalcy (Depressingly common amongst people on the spectrum), and I think the "in denial" part shapes his politics.

Because like... there's a fucked up sort of mindset that thinking of yourself as "normal" and yet still observing you are oppressed breeds. A sort of "I'm not crazy, you're crazy!" view that leads to...

...Well, I recall @prokopetz also talked about it wrt people on old forums who were clearly on the spectrum talking about "nerd supremacy" in pseudo-eugenic terms, which in hindsight Bob was also clearly a part of.

It definitely shapes how he's got this warped version of producerism, this view that the world can be divided into "Makers and takers," just with a frozen-in-the-Bush-era "left" spin.

It's a space where think of yourself as a temporarily-embarassed genius rather than someone who the game's rigged against, so you don't really get that true, deep solidarity with other folks who've been hosed, which leads to Chipman's whole Nietzche-type "last man" of Clinton/Bush-era neoliberalism schtick, only tinkering with the rules of the elegant machine rather than wanting a fundamental rewrite.

And those of us on the spectrum can be vulnerable to that further with our general love of systems, seeing its elegance while ignoring or justifying its cruelty.

Which Bob shows, even in the works of his I actually liked.

So yeah, TL/DR trying to cling to Being Normal makes you crazy no matter what way you do it.

It's a devil's bargain despite the assimilationist propaganda that was shoved on us wrt Temple Grandin or gifted classes or the way they used to use a literal fucking Nazi's name to separate the "salvageable" autistic kids, don't do that.

im gonna be honest i think some of you just want to make fun of autistic people

[michaela-o]

Hey guys !! Here's a little writing post for tonight since i once again suffer from art block and i couldn't really get my thoughts on canvas so at least i'll write them down for you🥹🫶🏻

I had a little poetic moment about Cybertronians and how each bot from the Lost Light might view humans in their own way. Here’s how i think a few of them might feel, translated into their own brand of poetic musing:

Rodimus

"They’re like embers scattered on a night’s breeze. Small, insistent, daring to claim a spark of the vast unknown. Fragile? Yes, but isn’t fragility the very flame that burns the brightest in the dark?"

I think Rodimus sees in humans a little bit of reflection of himself—bold and driven, yet so often skimming along the edges of destruction. I think he would admire their recklessness despite their short lives and finds in them a kinship, like stars burning out as they fall.

Drift

"With hands of flesh, they reach for the stars, tiny pilgrims, undeterred by dark. They are warriors bound in tender shells, yet their spirits are sharper than any blade."

I think Drift sees humanity’s journey as sacred, an unlikely pilgrimage. Despite their fragility, they pursue wonders that many would fear, displaying a purity of heart that resonates with his own search for purpose and redemption.

Brainstorm

"They are puzzles, equations, broken in ways no theorem can solve. I could build them stronger, make them last longer, stretch their days to years—yet it’s the ticking clock that drives them which we cannot touch, the glitch of life within the code. They’re impossible, improbable—beautifully, infuriatingly unsolvable."

For Brainstorm, i think humans are the ultimate enigma. So imperfect, so baffling, so limited by their biology—and yet, somehow, they thrive. Their existence nags at him, like a problem he can’t quite crack, but one that has woven its way into his circuits.

Ultra Magnus

"They obey no Prime, no order, no code, yet they find honor in dust and devotion in ruin. There is chaos within them, yet in their eyes—clarity. For all their flaws, perhaps they see the law of the universe far better than we."

Ultra Magnus finds himself both exasperated and quietly moved by humans’ defiance of logic. I think he might struggle with their disorder but recognizes the strange beauty in their conviction. They possess a kind of honor that is beyond his ability to define—a law unto themselves.

Chromedome

"Stories woven in short threads of skin and sinew, their lives stitched in seconds, minutes, hours—a blink of a shutter. Yet they carry tales, so rich and raw, that I cannot forget. They are memory incarnate, fragile as newborn spark, but so full of color."

I think Chromedome would treasure humans for their stories, for the vibrant, bittersweet memories they create within the boundaries of their lives. Every moment for them is fleeting, and so they seem to capture life with a vibrancy he longs to archive.

Swerve

"They bumble and fumble, awkward yet bold, finding joy in the smallest things. They laugh in the face of a world so vast—their clumsy courage, a song I want to know by my spark."

We all know Swerve loves humans and human things. I think he sees humans as charmingly imperfect, stumbling yet fearless in a universe that dwarfs them. Their humor and resilience bring a joy that he can’t resist, as if they were a song that lingers in his circuits, warming him in ways he would never expected.

Megatron

"They are the dreamers, the fools, the ones who hope, rebels in skin who believe in the impossible. I have seen it. They build kingdoms on bones and dreams, believing they can change the world."

Megatron is an amazing character in my opinion in the Lost Light universe. I think he looks upon humanity with a blend of scorn and admiration. They are so weak, yet so defiant—champions of hope despite their powerlessness. Their resilience reminds him of what he once fought for, and though he might deny it, he can’t help but see in them a reflection of his own self.

Ratchet

"Flawed and failing, breaking with each breath, they stitch themselves back with their tender hands. They fall, they fail, yet rise again reminding me why I mend the wounded steel."

I really like Ratchet. I like to think he regards humans with a mix of exasperation and reluctant respect even when he wouldn't directly word it. He sees them as frail and imperfect, breaking down as quickly as they heal. Yet, their resilience, their refusal to give up despite everything, is what keeps him caring deep in his spark. In their struggles, he finds purpose, and in their imperfection, he rediscovers his own reason to heal.

I hope you liked this silly little post for tonight. I hope the art block goes away soon so i can draw more silly robots and their silly lil human friends together :3🧡🧡🧡

[n0vazsq]

Way of the heart | OP81 x Reader

pairing . . . oscar piastri x racing!engineer!reader

summary . . . After a tough race, Oscar has nothing to look forward to more than spending time with (Y/n)

request . . . kind of?

word count . . . 1.1k

warnings . . . none!

alexavia yaps . . . i really hate this one for some reason like its not the best i could do but i wanted to write something so yeah!! the person who wanted this (im sorry i forgot your user), if you want another story i will totally write it!! tysm for asking <3

Oscar slumped into the chair in the back of the team garage, still in his racing suit, the helmet beside him on the floor. Today’s race had been brutal, everything going wrong until he finally crossed the finish line in a place he didn’t even want to remember. No matter how much he tried to forget it, the disappointment still clung to him.

As the crew packed up around him, you walked over, carrying a bottle of water and a quiet look of understanding. You’d worked with Oscar long enough to know when he needed a moment to think and when he needed someone to remind him he wasn’t alone. Today, he needed the latter.

“Rough day,” you said softly, offering him the bottle. He accepted it with a quick nod, cracking it open but not taking a sip.

“Understatement of the year,” he muttered, letting out a short, frustrated sigh. “Everything went wrong, didn’t it? Every call, every turn… feels like I let everyone down out there.”

You didn’t rush to disagree or to tell him it was all fine because you knew Oscar didn't want you to. Instead, you waited a bit, giving him the space to breathe.

“You know, racing’s a lot like life. Sometimes it’s out of our control, even when we do everything right. We all saw you fight today,” you said gently. “One tough race doesn’t define who you are as a driver.”

He glanced up, the frustration in his eyes softening as he met your steady gaze. “Thanks,” he said, managing a faint smile. “Not sure what I’d do without you, honestly.”

You laughed lightly, leaning against the wall beside him. “Lucky for you, I’m sticking around, win or lose.”

His smile widened a little, and after a few moments of quiet, he stood up, finally letting go of some of the weight he’d carried off the track. “Hey,” he said, glancing at his watch, “I know it’s late, but do you want to grab some food? Just… need to be somewhere that’s not here.”

The restaurant he picked was cozy, tucked away from the noise and chaos that followed you on racing weekends. He knew you’d love it, remembering how you mentioned your love for Italian food

When you walked in, his heart skipped a beat. You wore a smile that was both warm and teasing, the one that always seemed to make everything feel a little less overwhelming.

He stood, smiling sheepishly. “Hey, you look… great,” he said, his voice a little unsteady. The nerves of the race had melted away, replaced by a different kind of nervousness that he couldn’t ignore.

You grinned, taking a seat across from him. “Thanks, Piastri. It’s nice to see you in a non-race setting for once. And I have to say, you look pretty good.”

He laughed, glancing down at his simple outfit. “I tried, y’know, for you.”

The waiter took your orders, and as the evening went on, you two spoke about anything and everything but racing. The conversation drifted easily from favorite movies to random childhood memories. You two talked about wild stories and embarassing moments, laughing at every single thing.

But Oscar’s mind kept wandering back to you. How you’d been there every step of his career, how you’d seen him at his worst and still chose to believe in him. At one point, as you were laughing at a joke he’d told, he couldn’t help but stare a little, his heart pounding in a way that felt completely different from the adrenaline of racing.

The laughter quietened down, and a comfortable silence fell between you both. Oscar looked down at his hands, trying to think of what he wanted to say. “You know,” he began, a little quieter now, “you mean a lot to me. More than just… my engineer or friend.”

You looked up, your expression softening, and he felt his courage swell just a bit. “I think I realized that today, after everything went bad on the track. Just seeing you there, not judging me, not telling me what I should’ve done differently, just… being there. It made all the difference.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’d be there no matter what, Oscar. You’re a brilliant driver and a good person. Bad race or not, that doesn’t change.”

His cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading through him. He turned his hand to hold yours, letting the silence speak for itself. And for a moment, all the disappointment and frustration faded, replaced by a quiet joy that he hadn’t expected to feel tonight.

Later, you walked together under the night sky, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the warm evening inside. He found himself wishing the walk could last forever, just the two of you, away from the chaos of everything.

Eventually, you both settled on a bench with a view of a beautiful fountain. The sound of the water filled the quiet spaces between you, and he reached over, slipping his hand into yours again, holding it with a confidence he hadn’t felt earlier.

“This feels perfect,” you murmured, leaning against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I wish every night could be like this.”

You let out a soft laugh, resting against him. “It’d be easier if we weren’t always at a race or in different cities every other week.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, looking out at the fountain. “But I think… I think it’s worth it.”

You turned to him, your gaze meeting his with a warmth that made his heart race. He took a deep breath, the words he’d been holding back finally finding their way out.

“Do you… maybe want to meet my family? Make it official?” he asked, his voice a little uncertain but hopeful.

You raised your eyebrows, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Oscar, I think we’re already there. You didn’t have to ask. And of course, I'd love to meet your family.”

He chuckled, feeling a weight lift as his heart swelled with happiness. “Then consider this official.” He leaned in, taking your lips in a kiss.

The kiss made butterflies fill your stomach, it was soft, but also made you crave more. It was something magical, like straight out of a movie. Oscar had his hands on your waist, and yours tangled in his hair. It somehow made it more intimate, more personal. You didn't want it to end.

When you finally pulled back, the smile on your face was everything Oscar ever wanted to see.

Hand in hand, you walked back to the car, and for the first time that night, Oscar felt a sense of peace, knowing that no matter what happened on the track, he’d always have you there, his biggest supporter, his steady presence.

And with you by his side, he knew he could face anything that came his way.

[annebd]

prompt: scotty and max fucking dirt nasty about daniel

My first ask prompt! Thank you for turning my own horny tags against me! I don’t know if I managed to get all the way to dirt nasty, but I feel like we can at least call this “potting soil rude.” ;)

Below the cut and also here at AO3.

Max and Scotty have a tenuous agreement. A custody arrangement, Scotty calls it. When Daniel had first introduced them all those years ago, he’d clearly assumed that since he loved them both, naturally they’d like each other, too. They did not. Instead, they spent the first few months of their acquaintance doing their damnedest to avoid each other’s presence while fighting over who got to spend more time with Daniel. Neither of them wanted to share their time with him with the other, and each felt that they had a more compelling reason to lay claim to Daniel’s attention. Max declared teammate dibs, while Scotty argued for compatriot rights. The arguments escalated- furious text messages interspersed with angry glares and whispered squabbling away from Daniel’s ears until, eventually, they decided that the only viable option was to share custody.

Max gets Daniel on race weekends, from Thursday all the way through to Sunday night (and if they’re celebrating a good race result, well into the wee hours of Monday morning). Scotty has free rein over the rest of the week and any non-race weekends, except for times when Daniel and Max are both in Monaco at the same time, in which case Max gets first dibs on invites to dinners, clubs, or padel dates. Scotty had tried to argue that this rule unfairly favors Max, given that Max and Daniel both live in Monaco, which immediately gives him way more Daniel-time. Max wasted no time in pointing out that Scotty also lives in Monaco, so that’s a dumb argument, and with the amount of travel they all do, there’s very little overlap in their schedules anyway, which was the whole point in the first place.

The most important rule in their agreement, though, is that Daniel remains absolutely unaware that any of this is going on. If he knew the lengths Scotty and Max were going to in order to rearrange their schedules and his, he would make that face at them. The one where his eyes go wide and soft and red rimmed. He would shake his head at them, and he would use words like “childish” and “manipulative” and “disappointed.” No. It’s better that Daniel doesn’t know.

He’s somehow never managed to catch on that Scotty doesn’t ever hang out with him on race weekends, even if he’s at the grand prix and chilling with Chloe in the Aston Martin hospitality. He’ll give Daniel a wave, a pat on the bum if they pass each other in the paddock, but he's never asked for a pass to Daniel’s garage, even though he could easily get one as a Red Bull athlete himself. And Daniel’s also never noticed that Max pretty much disappears after race weekends, only to pop up in the background of one of Martijn’s Instagram stories or on stream with the other Twitch boys, even if Daniel mentions he'd be happy to hang out if Max finds himself in LA whenever he’s there.

Over the years, they’ve reached a tentative truce over their shared time with Daniel, but neither of them has ever gotten what they truly want: Daniel himself. He’ll flirt with them all day long,  but they know he’d just as easily flirt with a brick wall if given the chance. Flirting sometimes leads to more: Daniel will get up close behind Max on the crowded dance floor at a club, brush the tease of a half chub against Max’s ass as he scoots past him, a drink in each hand and a grin on his face. He’ll wrap one arm around Max’s waist from behind, a gesture with a flourish to present him with the G&T he’d ordered for Max, and whisper “just for you, Maxy,” as he hands him the drink and presses his cock against the seam of Max’s ass. And then he’ll flounce off again, shimmying to the pulse of the music and unaware of, or simply uncaring about, the state of Max’s shorts.

Max has seen him with Scotty, knows that he acts just the same way with him. Always standing too close, legs intertwined, sharing jokes murmured under his breath or whispered too loudly in his ear. He’ll tuck himself under Scotty’s chin, fingertips of one hand tugging teasingly at the collar of Scotty's shirt, while the other hand reaches out to take a selfie that he’ll send to Max and caption “wish you were here!”

But Daniel never lets them get any closer than that. He’ll tease, flirt, hint that he wants more, but he never takes the next step- or lets Scotty or Max take it, either. Somewhere along the line, they realized that if they can’t have Daniel himself, they’ll have to settle for the next best option.

That option is this: Scotty has Max face down, ass up on his driver room floor. There’s no space in here for this, but neither of them had cared about the logistics of anything beyond getting the door shut and tearing off enough clothing to get started. Max is still wearing his Red Bull polo- the hem rucked up to his armpits. His jeans are hanging off one foot, caught on the shoe he didn’t bother to take off before he started peeling out of his clothes. Scotty is no better off- his jeans are unzipped far enough for him to have pulled his cock out, but he’s otherwise still fully clothed.

Max watches over his shoulder as Scotty coats his fingers in lube. It’s the shitty kind in a packet that Max swiped from the complimentary amenity kit in the hotel this morning and tossed at Scotty’s head as they stumbled into his driver room and started pulling off their clothes. It’s sticky and a little goopy, but it’ll do in a pinch.

Scotty opens Max up brusquely, stretching him with two and then three fingers in quick succession. Max bristles at the burn, the way he can feel a flame lick up and down his spine, unsure of whether the sensation is pleasure or pain. He breathes through the too quick stretch and the way Scotty intentionally avoids so much as brushing past his prostate. Max knows they don’t have time for gentle. The first free practice session starts in barely more than half an hour, and Max still needs to go through his warm up routine and check in with GP about the set up plan for the run. But even with all the time in the world, Scotty still wouldn’t give him the courtesy. His focus here isn’t on Max’s pleasure.

“Come on already,” Max complains. He’s reaching back with a free hand to pull Scotty in closer, trying to grab at his cock. At least when Scotty is buried in him, Max can fuck himself back onto him, guide the angle exactly where he wants it.

“Shut up,” Scotty hisses, pushing Max’s polo further up and stuffing the hem into Max’s mouth. Max is loud. Always. But here, they don’t have the luxury of being able to hide behind the anonymity of a private hotel room, where the sound of Max’s drawn out groans or high pitched squeals can be passed off as coming from one of the other rooms down the hall; nor can they rely on the ironclad NDAs of the staff on Max’s private plane, who may have overheard him more than once begging for Scotty to stop fucking around and fuck him harder. Checo’s driver room is just next door. He’ll hear if Max starts shouting the way he wants to.

Assured that the makeshift gag will do for now, Scotty grabs a handful of Max’s left ass cheek, pulling him wide, fingers of his other hand moving unceremoniously in and out of his hole. Max can feel the cool metal of Scotty’s wedding ring against him, a twin sensation to the cold slick of the lube dripping down his rim. He wonders if Chloe knows. She’s probably lounging in the Aston Martin hospitality right now, sipping casually on a glass of wine as she chats with Fernando or jokes around with Lance. Does she know that her husband is only a few dozen yards away, wiping the excess lube off his hand and onto his cock and lining it up with Max’s hole? He wonders what she’d say if she knew. He wonders what Daniel would.

He groans as the thought hits him. Imagines Daniel’s face if he walked into Max’s driver room right now, saw him splayed out like this, moaning like a whore as Scotty takes that moment between breaths to push in, his first thrust already a zero to sixty full send that has Max sliding further to the floor. His knees slip wider and his hip flexors stretch beyond the point of a pleasant ache. Rupert is going to kill him if he shows up to his pre-race warm up with a limp. Maybe Daniel would help soothe the ache. He could slide to the floor beneath them, tuck himself under Max’s juddering hips, suck the tip of his cock into his mouth as Scotty keeps pounding into him.

Max gasps and clenches down as he imagines it. Fuck, what he wouldn’t give for Daniel to burst through the door. Through the drool soaked fabric held between his teeth, he moans out a barely coherent “Daniel!”

The room is immediately quiet as Scotty stills inside him and Max inhales sharply at his own outburst. For a long moment, neither of them moves. They breathe in the shared silence for a beat, and then Scotty pulls back to sit on his haunches and grabs Max by the back of his polo shirt to haul him back with him. The change in angle has him sliding, somehow, even further down onto Scotty’s length. Max groans. From his new position on Scotty’s lap, he can feel the bite of zipper teeth against the back of his thigh. That’s going to leave a mark- another thing he’ll have to explain away to Rupert when he hops into the ice bath tomorrow.

Scotty wraps one hand firmly around Max’s chest, brushes the sharp edge of a thumbnail over Max’s nipple, drawing out a hushed squeal. He pulls Max tight against his body, cock buried balls deep inside him. As he starts moving again, stabbing staccato thrusts aimed directly at Max’s prostate, intended to tease but not satisfy, he leans in to whisper directly into Max’s ear. “Come on, Maxy. You’re not trying to get us caught, are you? Not trying to get Daniel in here to see what you look like getting fucked like this.”

Max huffs out an annoyed moan. “Like you don’t want it, too. You would be putting on a show for him. Trying to show him how good you can fuck. Which, of course, isn’t even very good at all.” 

Max knows he’s hit a nerve. It always comes down to this for them. Sometimes they’ll spend the entire time just egging each other on. It usually doesn’t take much more than the mere mention of Daniel from either of them to get things ramped up. Like clockwork, he can feel Scotty’s rhythm start to falter behind him, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic. Before he even has time to reach down for his own cock, he feels Scotty stiffen and then grind hard into him. 

Everything immediately feels wetter, the slick combo of lube and come mixing inside him as Scotty starts to pull out. Max whines, tries to clench down and keep Scotty’s dick inside him. “Don’t fucking stop, you fuck!” he whisper-shouts, trying to bounce on the flagging cock already slipping free from his hole. It’s too late. Scotty pulls out completely and shoves Max off of him to flop back to the driver room floor. He’s still fully dressed, just his bare wet cock out, lying limp on the precarious biting edge of his unzipped jeans. 

Furious and still achingly hard, Max clambers on top of him, knees spread on either side of Scotty’s hips. He grabs at Scotty’s hand and forces two fingers together before lifting up and shoving them between his legs. He refuses to look down at Scotty’s face. He knows that if he does, he’ll see that fucking smirk. He closes his eyes and throws his head back instead, so that in his mind’s eye, he can imagine that it’s Daniel beneath him, whose hand he’s riding quickly to climax. Scotty’s doing nothing to help him along, but his fingers are serviceable enough as a makeshift dildo for Max to ride, and quickly enough, he’s approaching orgasm. He comes and chokes back the cry that threatens to spill over. 

He catches his come in one hand to save it from landing directly on Scotty’s shirt. He’d deserve it, the asshole; but Max knows those aren’t risks they’re able to take. Can’t explain away the random stain or have to come up with an excuse as to why Scotty’s wearing a borrowed Red Bull t-shirt and walking away from the Red Bull end of the paddock on a weekend he’s supposed to be hanging out in the Aston Martin garage. So Max catches his come in his hand. But he can’t resist the opportunity to fuck with Scotty at least a little, so he pushes up his shirt- some obnoxious NFT branded thing- and smears his cupped hand across Scotty’s abs, painting his stomach with it before Scotty even realizes it’s happening.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Scotty complains and pushes Max off him for the second time. He grabs randomly for the first thing he can put his hands on to serve as a rag- the balaclava that Max is supposed to be wearing for free practice today- and uses it to wipe himself off. He tosses the balaclava at Max to finish cleaning up and then stands to tuck himself back into his jeans and zip up. 

Once they’re both mostly presentable, Max pokes his head out of the room, checks that there’s no one around to see Scotty exiting. Satisfied that they’re clear, he steps out of the way and jerks his chin at Scotty, a nod towards the door for him to get out.

“Yeah, I’m gone. See ya never, mate,” Scotty throws over his shoulder as he saunters out of Max’s driver room.

“Fuck you, too,” Max throws back at him. He glances at the clock. He’s almost late for his warm up with Rupert. Fuck.

***

The rest of the weekend is mostly business as usual. He has to sit through a lecture from Rupert about having to rush through his warm up (“Where’ve you been? And why are you so stiff in your hips today?” he asks as he takes Max through the exercises. “Do we need to add more stretching to your routine?”), and then another from GP about having to rush the prep for the practice session, but neither is out of the ordinary. He puts it on pole the next day and wins the race the day after. He takes a moment to celebrate with the team and then makes sure to seek Daniel out for the biggest hug, an arm looped around Daniel’s waist and a hand clasped at the back of his neck, holding him close. He’s only got a few more hours of custody time before he’ll have to hand him over to Scotty, and he intends to make the most of them.

After the champagne, the ceremony, the interviews, he follows Daniel to his driver room, chattering all the way about the race and how the car is finally feeling like they’ve got a handle on it this season. Daniel nods at the appropriate moments, points out things he’d noticed on track, too. Max beams. He loves talking about racing with anyone, but most especially with Daniel.

In Daniel’s driver room, Max makes himself as comfortable as he can on the small padded bench and watches as Daniel strips off his race suit and fireproofs and tosses them in a heap on the ground. He wanders around the tiny room in just his boxer briefs, which are molded to his thighs, still sweat-slick from the race. Max’s own briefs start feeling a little tight as he takes in all of the skin on display in front of him.

“What are we doing to celebrate tonight?” he asks. “Carlos told me about this new club that he and Charles have visited. We can go there together, if you want. Few G&Ts to end the weekend?”

Daniel nods while he throws on his regular clothes, and Max sighs as all that golden skin disappears from view. “Sounds good, mate. I’m all in!”

Max smiles back at him. Perfect. He’s riding the high of the win, and as the blood rushes from his brain to locations further south, he decides to press his luck. “And then tomorrow, do you want to fly with me in my plane? You can come with me to Greece for a bit, if you want.”

“Sorry, no can do, Maxy. Got plans for this week already. Besides,” he pauses halfway out the door, gives Max a sharp look over his shoulder, “it’s not your custody week, is it? Scotty wouldn’t approve.”

Max stares after Daniel as he skips down the stairs out of his driver room. Fuck.

[phantom-rats]

Ok, so- (said with intent to infodump)

Teruteru is such a performance of a person. I think a pretty integral part of his character is his tendency to self-aggrandize, if not outright lie about his upbringing and accomplishments. I often wonder if he’s actually ashamed of his background at all, or if he just knows that a certain subsection of people would think less of him for it. Because, at the moment, it seems they only want him around when he’s providing something for them… Food, primarily. And I think he would tell himself that he’s content with that, with embodying this persona and proving himself through his talent, but his desperate bids for attention through his weird and creepy behavior would say otherwise. He’s fun to dissect, because how much of what we’re seeing is really him? What would you find if you managed to get past that?

His arc in the simulation, short as it is, is very fascinating to me. Primarily because I don’t think Teruteru is stupid. He’s in such deep denial, from the very beginning, and the paranoia he’s doing a piss poor job of pushing down eventually bubbles over until he can’t take it anymore. But maybe if he didn’t feel the need to hide so much of himself, including his completely understandable levels of terror and concern for his mother, he wouldn’t have needed to do what he did… I wonder if he could’ve been talked down, if only he wasn’t so deathly afraid of emotional vulnerability… But then again, I do think he was genuinely looking for a way to get back home to his mom, no matter the cost. 

His mom seems to be the only person he truly allows himself to be genuine with… And, in some ways, the only person he seems to really deeply care for. His dad left him and he openly dislikes his siblings. I don’t think he has any friends and his classmates don’t seem to care for him too much (in canon, at the start, at least). It adds a whole layer of tragedy to his story both in the simulation and during his time as a Remnant, given that he… Well, he very likely killed her himself, if not cooked and ate her too. I really adore this part in his FTEs where he’s asked what his dream is, he gets so confused and just throws out some random answer that he thinks aligns with his persona (“My real dream is-! Having a cute, sommelier wife… maybe…?”). I think the culmination of his FTEs and arc in general is that, in the end, he wanted to make his Mom smile, and I think this desire extends to others too. But he wraps it up in so many layers of grandiosity and bullshit that it can easily come off as arrogant and attention-seeking. 

He wanted to make people happy, and he still does, but he’s not doing such a good job of it anymore. He hopes his cooking makes up for everything everyone hates about him, and it does, but he can’t possibly be satisfied with that. He acts like he is, because he knows it’s better than nothing. And they don’t have a choice but to keep him around. But he has to want more than that, doesn’t he? 

Sorry for the extremely long reply! As a massive Teruteru fan of several several years, I’m probably overanalyzing him a little bit- 

inauthentic