#they should just know that they would get mad

[bunnys-kisses]

(ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ mad(ly in love) max｡ ⊹˚.⋆

partially inspired by this by @angldelight before it got away from me! <3

max knew you looked better in blue than red. and if you did look good in red, it was the red of the his team rather than the garish red of ferrari. he believed the statement that everyone is a ferrari fan even if they don't know it, because if they saw a photo of you, they'd have brand loyalty to the stallion for the rest of their days.

there was a reason why your face and name were everywhere in your home country. you were a pride and joy to the nation you called home. but, max was more than happy to stake a claim on you.

max liked you because you challenged him. far too many women would bend over backwards for the three time champion, but you simply glared him down with your hands on your hips. you stood toe to toe with him even if there was a height difference. but you kept your gaze steady on him.

"don't fuck me over again." you said, "or you'll regret it."

"i would never do it on purpose, princess. maybe you should watch where you are going from now on." he bite back in response. he noticed a twitch in your hand, like you wanted to grab him by the front of his driver's suit and pull him close. either for a punch or a kiss.

it would eventually lead in kisses. max liked when you were mad because then that meant he could flip the script and get ferrari's little princess on her knees with a mouthful of verstappen cock. it was honestly cute, while he wanted to dive into your sweet cunt and make your insides sticky with his cum. he'd have to make you acquainted with his size.

max verstappen was fuckin' crazy though, being involved with him was like being a deer and getting your leg caught in a trap. the type of obsession that clamped around you, dug its teeth into your fragile skin. you were so cute though, something some delicate and soft. formula one was for the toughest, the mental and physical strain of it all (that could be why he was so... off). and while max believed in you, he worried.

where you were going, who you were with. you hadn't only been in monaco for a few years and while you had the likes of charles to help you around. when he heard about men you had met, max felt something curl inside of him.

it started inauspicious. he slipped an air tag into the back pocket of your jeans while you were in your driver's room getting ready for dinner with some guy that max couldn't even remember the name of. he was all smiles as he wished you a great time.

too bad there was an issue with your car. how could you have a flat tire already, you just got the car? and when you asked your date to come pick you up, he totally ghosted you. little did you know that while you were struggling with you car, max went to meet your date and give him a few firm words. that was when the real mad max came out.

"listen mate. you're never going to give her what she needs. hell, not even what she wants. there are plenty of fish in the sea." he got a little closer to the other man, "but you can't have her."

"why?" your date swallowed.

max nodded and flashed that winning smile, "because she's mine. and i know she may have talked so nice to you. she's like that. charming. but sadly she's taken. so i think it's in everyone's best interest that you delete her number and go back to finding your perfect match." he patted the man on the shoulder like they were buddies.

"and if i don't."

max's smile only grew, "i don't like people fucking what's mine. she's taken, mate. move on." he couldn't verbalize exactly how he'd rough up the other man. he didn't want to make headlines. but there was something in his gaze that made your date high tail it out of there. your number blocked and deleted.

max then used the air tag to find you at a bar close to your flat where you were drinking away your sorrows. but, don't worry about that! max was now here to make sure that you had the best night ever. while that meant ending up drunk and curled up in his bed, but he didn't mind. he was even a gentleman and created a barrier of pillows between the two of you. no funny business. even if he wanted to. when he eventually fucked you, he wanted you conscious.

that air tag would come in handy, turns out that you wore the same pair of black levi's jeans. max was wondering if he had to get more air tags to place along other items. but, he lucked out with that one. you thought it was a strange coincidence that he seemed to be where you were.

and he'd laugh and tell you, "small city, right?"

it took months of hard work but, eventually he got to sink his pretty cock into your prettier hole. the happiest day of his life. he had invited you on his boat for the afternoon, and while he didn't expect much. he wasn't expecting your pretty tits on such display. a pretty red checkered print bikini and sandals as you stayed close to max.

and then alone, out in the waters. you ended up straddling max's waist while he sat on one of the seats up on the deck. it was couch-like and allowed you two some room as you rubbed your sweet pussy up against the front of his shorts. his hands dug into the plushness of your ass as he moved against you. you were painfully pretty, and it drove max insane. you'd try to run him off the track, but he'd always get an apology by having your pretty tits in his face and your pussy around his cock.

"you feel so good." he said, "you're so soft."

you whimpered, "i'm not that soft. you keep feeding me all this good food since i came to visit! my team is going to be pissed." you squirmed a little.

he kissed at your breasts in front of your face and laughed, "well, then. i guess i'll have to keep feeding you better food." his teeth then nipped your left breast and it made you whine. his hands continued to grope you ass and you squirmed a little more.

you didn't realize that you're movements only made him harder and he had to force himself to let go of you to take his cock out of his shorts. this was a dream come true, after months of being your little shadow.

"you know how to do this?" he asked.

you held onto his shoulders and chuckled, "yes, i've had sex before." which made something cold run through max's body, but it was quickly heated up once more when you sank down on him.

other men might had had you, but he was going to make sure you were his forever. no need to get stuffed with another man's cock, when you have max who, as he might add, can get into you quite easily. it was like you were made for him as you started to ride him. he pulled you into a kiss with one hand while he groped your behind with the other. he felt your core shiver around him as you continued to move up and down on his cock.

this only lit his need for you more. if you were so good on top, how good were you on the bottom, or at your side, or stuffed full of fingers and toys as max pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you. he wanted you, he was mad for you. while he'd sometimes pull dirty tricks on the track, he had a whole other set of skills for you. because he could never hurt you on the track, too much of a risk for your safety. but he'd bruise your little pussy and cover your pretty soft breasts in large bites. he'd hope that cameras would get a good look at the pretty marks.

a lot easier to scare off men than to see a woman decorated with hickies. if he had it his way, you'd be wearing a little chain with his initials on it. or better yet, chubby little verstappen baby at your hip. the thought made something hot run through him. oh, that unlocked something in his brain as he was balls deep inside of you. he continued to leave a mess of bites on your chest as you continued to rut against him. your back arched a little when he bit one of your nipples.

"i need you to burn that bikini when we get to shore." he said between heavy pants as he grabbed your ass roughly and pushed himself up as much as he could go. his voice was a little strained from the intensity of it all.

"why?" you asked as you looked down at you.

"because, someone might get the wrong idea. and i don't want you getting hurt." he replied. it showed off far too much, too much of what belonged to him.

he rubbed up against you further. his cock poking some of your deepest parts, he wondered if he was the biggest you ever had. or if there was some other guy in another part of the world who took you apart better than him. unlikely. the way he watched you wiped drool from the corner of your mouth as you rode him made him excited.

during his time racing alongside you, he had seen you at euphoric highs of victory and deep anger when losing. but, this was a whole other look, you were far from focused. only really thinking about the cock, his cock, stuffing you full. guess there was no need to get you into his clothes and keep an air tag in your bad anymore, not when you had such a sweet look across your face.

he ran his blunt nails down the side of your thighs and felt you clench harder around his cock. which made sparks appear in the back of max's mind.

"pretty thing." he said. there was a softness to you that he wanted to sink his teeth into. especially the slight chub at your hips, next time he wanted to bite down on the skin and leave pretty bruises across it. you were just so beautiful. he thought formula one was for ugly men because they wore a helmet all the time, not pretty women who made max go insane.

you whined a little bit and started to feel yourself really get hot all over. his cock fit in you perfectly. while lust clouded your head, you honestly did think about throwing out the bikini you were wearing on board the boat. he kissed at your pulse point and you moaned, your pussy fluttered around him.

"i need that bikini gone before we get back to shore." he said.

"why, what will i wear?" you asked a little shy. you couldn't get back onto land with nothing on!

he grabbed at your ass once more and pushed you down on his cock, then held you for a moment. his lips were squared with yours as he said, "i got some extra clothes in the bedroom below deck." he knew that it was either red bull or verstappen merchandise. something that he had a lot of and could get wet.

while it wouldn't show off your pretty figure. the idea of you getting a bit chilled while heading 'home' and having your nipples poke through a shirt with his logo on it made him hotter. maybe he'll turn the ac up in the car on the drive home.

"i don't want anyone to see the bikini ever again. i'll buy you something nicer." he said as he thrusted up into you, "i don't want hungry eyes on you and neither do you. you're not a piece of meat." even though max wished to devour you, you were not meat. he'd say you were more like fruit. something refreshing and bright. something to crave on a warm day like today.

"i should have something in my bag." you said as you continued to ride him.

he held your soft hips and looked up at you, "no, no." he said then licked his top lip, "wear my clothes, they'll be more comfortable." and it'll hide your figure better.

you were the first to climax, and he managed to get you across the seat of the couch and fuck you from behind doggy style. perfect angle to make sure every last drop. you clawed at the faux leather and arched your back, your sweet noises against the sounds of the sea. your pussy clenched around him as he bullied the tip up against your cervix.

it was important for the two to get acquainted.

he finally finished inside of you and let out a sweet groan. he clenched onto your hips tightly and watched you go fully limp against the couch as you tried to catch your breath. he pulled out and gooey cum dripped out of your poor pussy. ah, it's okay. he simply pushed it all back inside of you.

with the amount he finished inside of you, you were at least 3% dutch now!

when max was finished with you, he knew that he was going to keep the little princess of ferrari. maybe eventually you'll wear the red bull logo across your pretty tits when you entered the paddock. or maybe better yet, the verstappen last name. but for now he'd simply have to stake his claim by shoving all his cum into your sweet cunt. after all it was a safer place to keep it compared to his own fist.

-

even with the start of the new season. his fixation of your cunt didn't end. so what you're on a different team, that didn't mean he couldn't easily go to the ferrari area and just get you to himself. when you win the first race of the season and sing along to your national anthem, max smiles in second. not because he is happy that you are winning.

but because he knew that his cum was dampening the front of your sweet cotton panties. you may have the trophy over your head, but he knew after this, he'd get another chance to sink another load in you. <3

a/n: is this anything? does anyone want more of this????

[felassan]

David Gaider on Fenris, under a cut for length:

"Fenris. Now, DA2 is a story all on its own but I'm not going to go there other than to sum it up as "we had just over a year and a half to make this". It's why I only wrote one follower, Fenris, and although it'll make his fans mad: I probably shouldn't have. Let me explain. The way we'd approach making the followers is brainstorming a list of concepts covering first the array of gameplay classes (and sub-classes) and then making sure they each have some skin in the game when it came to the story's conflicts - ideally having characters on both sides of the major ones. Why? You can't make a player care about the world, but you can make them care about characters who care about the world. It's the easiest way to provide hooks into a conflict, outside of it knocking on the player's door. Heck, it's probably better than that. Players will burn the world for approval. After that, we'd decide things like romances/sexuality. Then the writers would pick who they'd write. I always let my writers pick first. I figured they do their best work when it's something they're inspired to write... and they got so few chances at ownership, I wanted to give it whenever I could It's why I (reluctantly) let Patrick wrest Cole from my grasp in DAI, a character I'd created in Asunder. It's also why I let Jennifer take Anders in DA2, who I'd started in Awakening. In this instance, it meant I was left with the angry elven warrior character who nobody else appeared to want."

"It should have been my first clue that something was up. The second was how the artists had zero clue what to do with him. The art concepts were all over the place - from mages to crows to... well, even weirder. No matter how hard I tried to explain the idea, the artists simply didn't seem to get it Does this mean he was a bad character? Not exactly. Just an idea that probably deserved some re-examining. You can tell when an idea has a certain spark, and part of that is being easy to communicate. Sadly, there wasn't time for any re-examining even if it'd occurred to me. And it didn't, not yet. If it had, if I had time, maybe I'd have re-booted him as a templar. Someone pro-templar rather than anti-mage, who could give a personal hook into Meredith and give the templars some badly-needed humanity. But this falls into the shoulda-woulda-coulda category. I had a follower to write. Quickly. I struggled, at first. It was hard to get away from "Fenris hates everything, all the time". It felt very one-note, and I didn't know where to take him. My third clue, I guess. I also wasn't sure if I was the right person to write a former slave. I did know that couldn't be the center of his story. I did know trauma, however. How it can eat you up. How the hate and resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person dies. How it can infect your relationships. Fenris's trauma isn't my trauma, obviously, but here I dipped into a more personal part of myself than I'd ever done before."

"It gave me the center of his story I was missing, but wow was it uncomfortable. In a good way, maybe. I likely wouldn't have, if I hadn't been so desperate. In a way, I think DA2 had some of our best writing *because* of the timeline. It was raw, with little time to sand down the interesting parts. I wouldn't have done the "Fenris doesn't talk to you for three years" thing if I'd known we were going to cut all the reactivity initially planned for the time jumps. When that call was made, I campaigned to cut the jumps to a year, but there was no time for the revisions it'd need. So, um. Awkward. I used to get asked where the name came from, and I... don't remember? Obviously it's derived from Fenrir, but I don't recall why we picked that. Someone pointed at Fenris the Feared from Joe Abercrombie's books... and I did read them, so maybe the name lodged in my head? Wouldn't be the first time. Casting Fenris turned out to be easy. He was the first time I requested a specific VA and got him. (The other times were Merrill and then Solas, my two "I want these specific Welsh actors, please".) Why? OK, if you must know, I'd played a bit of Final Fantasy XII. I heard Balthier. "Yes, that." 😅 And Gideon Emery was a delight, as it turned out. Consummate professional, and that lovely gravel in his voice... good god. Bite the knuckles. There was a struggle to find the voice at the outset where I did my best not to say "just pls do Balthier" but he found Fenris on his own and it was amazing. Overall, Fenris turned out better than he had any right to, considering the rocky start. He had a lot of soul, a vulnerability forged by pain that struck a chord with a lot of players, and I'm glad. Do I regret anything? Probably having him live in a corpse-filled mansion that would never update. That's a hindsight thing, though, as again the cut to reactivity over the time jumps came late. Outside of that, maybe letting the player give him back to Danarius? Poor shock value and a waste of resources because almost nobody took the option. Good evil options are ones that are tempting to take. And the lyrium tattoos. Interesting concept, but they're probably why you'll never see Fenris in a future DA. He requires a custom body, and the tattoos make that expensive. It's why I put Fenris in my 4th DA novel - the cancelled one. Don't fret, though. He died in it, so this way he lives on. 😉"

[source thread]

User: "Wait wait how does he die in [the cancelled novel]??" David Gaider: "Gloriously, after taking up a cause he didn't believe in at first but then made his own, one that allowed him to rediscover what it meant to be elven." [source] David Gaider: "I’m not sorry about the novel cancellation. I’m the one who cancelled it. I am kinda sad we couldn’t make it work, though. Considering it was after I left the DA team, it would have been my final DA hurrah." [source] David Gaider: "From my perspective, it was kind of "well if you're never going to use him again, let me at least give him a proper send off" and the story required a glorious death... but I get that's not the story his biggest fans would want (which is Hawke + Fenris 4ever), so it's just as well." [source]

User: "You all did some incredible work with such a tight deadline" David Gaider: "I'm of the opinion that even if we'd had only another six months to bake, DA2 would be remembered as a classic and not either a flawed gem or underbaked sequel, depending on who you ask." [source]

[catis15]

I'm in gen Z and I've got friends who think like this

I wasn't too sheltered as a kid or a teen so like I don't agree with some but I can see the reasoning. Though the asking to masturbate one is wild, like wtf dude that's just like... A weird thing to ask. Also thought it was like a canon event for some ppl to masturbate to like the idea of ppl they found attractive. I've never done that cuz yeah it feels really fucking weird like dawg I know that person, but ASKING is so fucking wild man 😭

And actors younger than 18 what's that about? If it ain't got sexual content I don't see the problem as long as like workplace abuse isn't happening because it's pretty common to my knowledge in the industry.

Like how am I on the other side of my own generations BS 😂😭 I think I should be grateful??

Don't think not smoking and drinking is a bad thing though lmao. But I know a lot of my friends and I were shamed for sex related stuff by our parents. I mean when I was i think 16 or 17 my mother went through *private* ifykyk messages and continued to shame me for things that were said for a month or so after, even getting my MUCH younger sisters involved by telling them "Leaf is doing nasty things' or "Leaf is doing things she knows she shouldn't" and then she'd directly quote things I said to my partner as a way to embarrass me. Kinda weird looking back on it but my mom's kinda fucked up lol

But I had a lot of friends with similar experiences. It doesn't really create a safe place for what are pretty normal feelings :/

But then on the complete opposite side we have shows like Big Mouth and sites like AO3 where it's a very normal thing to be horny and have kinks and it's not shamed, sometimes even encouraged. We grew up wack y'all lol

So lines had to be drawn SOMEWHERE and for a lot of ppl my age it gets to be a little much

Like I have a friend who hates like any sort of sexual reference to underage characters. Which is totally fair they're underage it's whatever. But it's to the point he gets like defensive about it. And he's the dude who's pretty steadfast in his beliefs, but it got to the point even i thought it was a little weird. Like sometimes he'd get mad about making out or slightly heavier relationships between minors, eich again I can see the thought process, but also ppl are having sex by 16 or 17, and it makes sense that characters those ages would be doing similar things. I grew up reading books where teenagers did teenager things, and I feel like there is a level of age appropriate stuff? Like no dawg don't make full ass bdsm shit for teens but I feel like referenced or even vanilla type shit is fine????

I don't have a license so I can't talk-

Working on it though ;v;

And yeah lmao masturbate it's good for you (no literally there are studies saying it's good to do lmfao, like drinking a single glass of red wine before bed once a night is good for you... Unless your a recovering alcoholic then maybe not)

Sorry went on like a whole tangent lol but I'm bored and wanted to throw my two cents as someone who's got friends who think like op mentioned but I... Don't lol.

weird anti ideology finally leaking out into the mainstream

[agirlwithglam]

How to get over negative experiences in your life.

Whether it’s heartbreak, failure, feeling unloved, left out, not achieving something,

Always learn the lesson, then get over it. Life is short, you should not be dwelling on something that has happened!! Don’t let a small part of your day ruin the entire experience of this wonderful life!

It’s like for example: if you had $86400 and someone took away $60, would you be mad? Of course, but would too just give away the remaining $86340 to them? No, that would be stupid. The same way- you have 86400 seconds in a day and something happens, do you just let that consume you the rest of the day? Absolutely not.

That’s why here, we’re all about growing and evolving as people. We know that God gives us everything for a higher purpose, a reason that’s much bigger for you.

So any situation or event he gives you, LEARN FROM IT. Because why would you let something happen to you for nothing? Figure out the lesson, write about it, make a video about it, journal about it, or spread the message about it so more people can learn. But what’s important is that you understand the lesson God was trying to give you and so that experience doesn’t feel like a waste anymore. Instead, it feels like more of a blessing.

Like you also need to understand that all the advice I have and I right about on my blog, I have learned from personal experiences- and that’s how great those problems can be. Heartbreak and failure is your superpower if you know how to use it in a way to boost yourself.

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 5

Masterpost Ao3

“So hypothetically,” Superboy begins, glancing over at Robin. “Say I met another meta, and they, like, needed a civilian identity...” He trails off, listening intently. Trying to get anything from Robin's expression is pointless - between his skill at maintaining his composure, and the expression obscuring mask, there's not a lot to be read on his face. Instead Superboy focuses on his heartbeat, which speeds up the smallest amount as Robin turns away from the tablet he'd been working with, and settles his full attention directly onto Superboy.

“Hypothetically,” Robin repeats.

“Yeah. You know, in theory, if that ever happened.” Robin stares at Superboy for a moment, presumably reading everything that's missing from his own face in Superboy's.

“Well. In theory, the Justice League has the means to grant any meta hero a full identity. Is this about you? Because honestly it's insane that they haven't bothered yet, and I will straight up make you one right now if you-”

“No, it's not about me,” Superboy interrupts. “But like, you could do that? Without the Justice League’s support, I mean?. Like, say if this hypothetical person really didn't want the Justice League knowing about them?”

“You met a meta who doesn't like the Justice League.”

“I don't think it's really about the Justice League specifically. I mean, they definitely don't exist, but if they did, then I would say that the second I showed up they were bracing for a fight. Like before they even saw who I was.” Robin sets his tablet to the side without looking, and leans just a touch towards Superboy as he talks. It's honestly wild, he thinks, how the other boy can manage such intense eye contact through white lenses, but, well, that's the bats for you.

“Theoretically, I could absolutely make this person an identity, if they did exist. But I would want to meet them first.”

“Cool, cool,” Superboy says leaning back into the couch. “I offered to introduce you and they said they'd consider it. I think, maybe they don't trust adults very much, bc they asked if you were our age.”

“Theoretically?”

“Exactly.”

* * *

Though the specific details as to when the founding member first became acquainted, it was only after multiple incidents of near-worldwide devastation that they realized the necessity of an organized front.

The details of the forming of the Justice League should be fascinating, if only for the revelation that world-ending disasters are, apparently, relatively common in this universe. In a way, it’s a comforting thought. Memories of Dan sit as heavily as ever in Danny’s mind, especially now that he’s effectively lost his family, just like in Dan’s timeline. Of course, here there’s presumably no risk of him getting fused with Vlad, so probably that specific threat isn’t likely, but - well, if it comes to the worst and Danny does go mad, there’s at least a reasonably good chance that the heroes here will be able to stop him.

On the other hand, this also means that if the heroes turn out to actually be evil or whatever, he has less chance of getting away. Of course, Superboy hadn’t really seemed evil, but Danny really has no clue if he would even be able to tell. Sure he’d known Vlad was a nightmare from a mile away, but Vlad wasn’t exactly subtle about his obsession with Danny. Evil steeped in calculation would surely be harder to spot, wouldn’t it?

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” someone says from behind Danny. “But are you going to be using that computer for much longer?” Danny blinks, staring back at the teen who’s looking at him nervously. Danny glances over at the clock, but it’s now reading 2:30, which means that he’s been here for like three hours already,and he really hasn’t read much of anything in all that time.

“You can have it,” Danny says, pulling back to shove his notebook into his backpack.

“You sure, man? I don’t wanna chase you off, but I really could use it. Physics project, you know?” 

“Yeah, I get it. Wasn’t really making much progress anyway. Might as well take a break.” Danny says. He never got to take physics in school, but he remembers struggling with lit class enough to understand the sentiment. And he really isn’t making any progress, if he’s been staring at the same Justice League page for multiple hours.

“You working on a history project or something?”

“Yeah.” It’s close enough to the truth.

“What teacher d’you have? It’s pretty cool that they’re letting you do it on the Justice League.”

“Oh, uh,” Danny quails for a moment, focusing on closing the tab so he doesn’t tell the kid he’s not going to school. After all it’s probably reasonable to assume the laws about delinquency are the same here. “It’s more about the meta protection acts than like, the Justice League itself. And I’m not really local, so...”

“Ah, that explains why I don’t recognize you,” the other teen grins.

“Yeah,” Danny says, stepping back so the other teen can take over the computer. “Well, good luck with your physics project.”

“Thanks, man, and good luck with your meta-acts essay.” The other teen turns his attention to the computer as Danny steps away, heading for the library exit. Clearly research isn’t going well today, and Jazz would definitely yell at him for trying to force his brain to focus when it clearly doesn’t want to. He pauses outside for a moment, trying to remember what Jazz said to when your focus was shot. Obviously part one was to take a break, but he’s certain that she’d had more to say than that.

He thinks he remembers her going on a rant about monotony, and boredom, but he doesn’t really feel bored. Actually more than anything he feels wired and anxious. And anxious means he should...

“Turn slow tigers into fast tigers,” Danny mutters, gaining a deeply confused look from the couple other patrons standing outside the library. He ignores them, though, and starts heading for the nearby park, so he can do some stretches. Fast tigers means he has to exercise, which he would usually complain about but- well, his routine has definitely been a lot less active since he got here. Other than the train crash the other week, Danny’s been spending most of his time sitting and reading, and while it’s been insanely nice to have nobody hunting him, honestly the idea of exercise sounds almost horrifyingly nice.

He does his best to run through the kind of stretches he remembers doing in PE, warming himself up as best he can before starting to jog the little looping path. The jeans make it a little more annoying than he remembers in PE, but luckily they’re kind of loose, so they’re not too terrible to run in, and Danny has no intention of going very fast. There’s too many people around even if he wanted to, and he does his best to be polite and not in the way as he jogs. it doesn’t take long for his breathing to go heavy with exertion, and as he finishes his second circuit, Dannyt relaxes into it, and just lets himself run.

Thirty minutes later, Danny is feeling markedly more tired, and he lets himself slow to a walk. His heart is thudding rhythmically in his chest, the occasional stutter only more prominent in the heightened pounding, and his legs feel a little wobbly, but he keeps walking, The sweat he’d worked up feels gross against his clothes, so probably he could’ve gone about it better, but Danny figures a whole thirty minutes without worrying about his existential situation is more than worth feeling gross for a bit. His usual tactic of sneaking into the local gym while it’s closed isn’t gonna cut it during the day, so he’ll have to wait to shower, but in the meantime, he can walk off the remaining adrenaline, and decide what to do for dinner.

* * *

“Hey, did you really mean what you said about me having a civilian identity?” Robin looks up as Superboy sits in the air beside his work desk.

“I have four different identities, ready for you to choose from,” Robin says.

“Wait do you just keep possible identities around in case anybody needs them? Is that, like, a Bat thing?” Superboy leans over to examine the tool Robin had been working on. Like everything else he uses, it’s emblazoned with a bat insignia, not that the marking does anything to help identify what the little machine even does. It’s ridiculously small, definitely not any kind of weapon, unless Robin’s been tinkering with the idea of murderous nanobots, which honestly wouldn’t be that shocking. Of any hero Superboy’s ever met, Robin seems uniquely predisposed towards mad scientist-type stuff.

“I keep exactly two emergency identities on hold, but those are separate. I was talking specifically about identities for you.” Superboy freezes, turning his eyes back to Robin, who looks at him like this is a perfectly normal thing to say. Superboy is at least ninety percent sure it isn’t, but what the hell.

“What the hell,” Superboy echoes his own thoughts. “Why would I ever need four identities?”

“You don’t need four, you need options. There’s no point in giving you an identity you hate.”

“Okay, but people don’t get to choose their names? So why would I care.”

“Most people don’t choose their names because most people receive them when they’re babies, but everyone has the ability to change it later if they decide they don’t like it. You have the unique advantage of being cognitively developed enough to have a say from the beginning, and you should have the opportunity to use it.”

“Huh...” That’s actually kind of sweet. “Do you like your name? I mean, like, that’s not why you don’t want to tell us, right?”

“My name is adequate,” Robin answers slowly. “It’s mine and I am... accustomed to it. The reason I haven’t told you my name is because it... implicates the other bats, and Batman considers that to be a significant security risk.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess that’s fair. Could I see the names you were thinking of?”

“Certainly,” Robin says, pushing back from the desk. “Let me get my tablet.”

* * *

“Uh, Superboy?” Danny shouts, trying to ignore how fucking ridiculous this feels. “Are you, like, free to talk? I think I want to meet your friend.” He’s hovering in the sky about a mile out from his town, in as close to the middle of nowhere as he could manage. He’d done a bit of looking into Robin this morning, before making his decision, and what a wild discovery that Robin was a name that had been held by multiple individuals. It makes him think of Dani, and he almost hopes that wherever she ends up, she might use the name Phantom too. After all, if anyone else rights to it, it would be his genetic clone.

Danny has no clue if time is flowing the same here as back home, but with any luck his friends have managed to orchestrate Dani’s escape too. It was always going to be a little more dodgy than Danny himself- his death being inherently tied to the portal had meant it was a bit more responsive to him than it otherwise would be, and that detail had been pretty quintessential to the rewiring that had needed to be done in order to send him to an entirely different universe, but they’d been hoping that her nature as a post-portal clone would mean that she had a close enough tie to the portal to send her through as well. Not that Danny would likely ever get to know for sure.

The soft rush of air alerted Danny to someone’s arrival, and he just managed to keep himself from falling into a defensive posture as he turned to look at the newly arrived Superboy, and the other teen being carried in his arms. Danny recognized the other boys outfit as that of the current Robin, who was now staring at Danny through a pair of disconcerting white-lenses set into a domino mask.

“We were free so I figured we’d just come meet you?” Superboy says with a nervous grin.

“Yeah, that’s, um, kind of obvious. Should we land?” Danny’s pretty sure that none of the Bats have flight, and like, as much as flying is cool as hell, Robin doesn’t look particularly impressed by it.

“That would be preferable, please,” Robin says, confirming Danny’s thoughts. He nods, and heads for the ground. Superboy follows just as quickly, and a moment later they’re all gathered on a gravel road in farmland.

“So, uh,” Superboy begins, once he’s deposited Robin on his own two feet.

“You told him about me before,” Danny says. Superboy may have had plenty of time to fly over here, but there hadn’t been enough of a delay to have explained the situation to Robin just now.

“It was an entirely theoretical conversation,” Robin offers dryly, before Superboy can respond.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that he was asking if I could theoretically help a meta acquire an identity if they were uncomfortable with the Justice League. Nothing of it was mentioned to anyone else and he told me no details about who any theoretical metas might be.” Danny blinks, taking a moment to process Robin’s explanation. In a way it makes sense, and he can see why Superboy would want to make sure that what he was offering was even possible.  Besides, it’s pretty obvious already that they both really trust each other.

“Okay, sure. I guess I get it.”

“I would like to know why you’re concerned about the Justice League, though, if you’re willing to share. If there’s anything illicit happening-”

“Oh, no, it’s not like that,” Danny cuts in as soon as he realizes where Robin’s going. He’s suddenly glad he’d already decided to explain his situation in more detail. “It’s like, I’m not from here so my shit is entirely unrelated? It’s just, they’re -you’re?- associated with the government, you know?”

“And your government is a threat to you.”

“Honestly, everything was. But they can’t get to me here. It’s why my friends- that’s why I’m here.”

“Okay, but are you sure you’re safe? Because like, space travel is a thing, and if you need protection...” Superboy trails off, looking concerned.

“I mean, it should be fine? Even if the GIW did manage to figure out inter-dimensional travel, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to figure out where specifically I went, so yeah.” Danny really doesn’t want to think about a GIW that’s gone inter-dimensional.

“Well if they did manage to make it here, they would be breaching the meta protection acts if they tried anything, so I hope if that does happen you inform myself or Superboy.”

“Yeah,” Danny laughs. “It’s honestly been kind of crazy trying to wrap my head around the idea I have protections here?”

“That’s understandable. Plenty of meta-individuals have complicated feelings about them, even if they grew up here.”

“Oh?”

“Well, just because it’s illegal to exploit or discriminate against someone doesn’t necessarily mean it doesn’t happen. And metas who have been treated poorly often have trouble trusting in the protection acts.”

“Or sometimes you just didn’t get that info programmed into you and then you have to adjust to your understanding of history being manufactured,” Superboy mutters under his breath. Robin doesn’t react at all and Danny’s pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear it either. The implications are a bit concerning, but Danny’s not about to press him on it.

“Yeah, I mean that’s kind of where I am, I guess. I think I’d like it if you’d be willing to make me a legal identity? I’m basically homeless at the moment, so I’d like to be able to get a job or something. But I’d really rather not end up on the Justice League’s radar yet. You guys seem nice, but databases are- a lot.”

“Easy enough. I can actually do it all with my personal resources, so the info never goes anywhere near the Justice League’s databases. We just need to determine what name history you want to have.”

“I mean, I’d like to keep my name, if possible?”

“Sure, What’s your name?” Robin tilts his head.

“Danny Fenton.”

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 2 with Concept Art

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead and some One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language.

Part 1 | 2 | 3

Let's go back a touch to when old Sanji reunited with his Zoro after the arm incident.

Sanji

I'm back Marimo-kun~! Sorry I was gone for so long!

Zoro

What the–? How the fuck did you get into my house?!

Sanji

Turns out I got this genetically-modified body so my limbs are practically replaceable! This isn't normal, right?

Commander 1

My Liege, we still need to attach the rest of the flesh.

Sanji

Oh, shush it now. I know it's just for padding at this point.

Anyway! This means we can keep fighting! Isn't that wonderful? I know your dad doesn't fight with that red-head anymore because of it.

Zoro

Dad? What are you…? Forget it. You're a freak. Get out. Now.

Sanji

Is…is it the hair? I thought I'd try something new…. I spent so long fixing it up for you. Do you not like it?

Zoro

Wait, what is that?

Sanji

Oh! This thing on my hand? It's a get-well-soon gift from my dear Doffy! He said I should at least try and make the fight fair for us so you won't get bored of me. What do you think?

Zoro

Fair? What do you mean fair?! And who the fuck is Doffy–?

Sanji

So many questions! Marimo-kun, I'm actually just here to propose. Let's go and get married!

Zoro

This…this must be some kind of a sick joke.

Sanji

I'm plenty serious actually. Come now, it'll be fun! If you marry me I'll give you all the sake you want~!

Zoro

You're barking mad if you think I'd agree to that.

Sanji

Commander, please present the dowry.

Darling, do you accept sea cows or do you prefer gold?

Zoro

Get the hell out of my house!!

Sanji

Hmm…you're right. I'm not doing this properly. Hey, is your dad still at Kuragaina? And was that a yes to sea cows?

Zoro

OUT!!!

This is Sanji's first of many marriage proposals.

---

Later in the week, a certain captain is over at Zoro's.

Law

You don't have to marry the man. Just get on his good side enough to get the information. I don't care how you do it.

Zoro

You ask too much this time, surgeon.

Law

Oh, for fuck's sake–you owe me. And I'm cashing in.

Zoro

Fine. But I'm only doing this for Luffy. What do you need exactly?

Law

I need to know if someone's still alive…. It's only a rumour but it would kill me I'd I don't find out for sure. And only he might know it.

Zoro

A friend of yours?

Law

You can say that.

Zoro

What's the name?

Law

It's…the Marines call him Corazon.

----------

Notes: I'm still exploring how to do dialogue the way my brain lays it out in my head. I've written scripts for storyboarding purposes before but Tumblr layout won't let me do what I need so bullet points it is. Oh well! Depending on feedback I might change it up.

[chocoqtelle]

inner child pac reading

🦀 pile one,,

I know we're used to being super helpful, but it's good to help yourself too. you should always make sure you're okay first. It's important for us to be okay, even if other people don't think so. we should think so. things are gonna be okay for us. they always are. I want to do the things we like. I don't understand why you care about what people think now. I think we should try doing what we like more, even if it's embarrassing. it doesn't have to take a lot of time. it's just good to have fun sometimes. maybe you can get back into some of our old interests if you want?

it seems like this pile had to mature quickly and was overly generous in childhood. this likely led to some people pleaser habits. when the world said "be nice" and "care about others" you took it to heart, but it felt like you were the only one who did. you felt like you had to be the adult in your childhood and care for other people around you. for some of you, you may have had to care for a parental/older familiar figure or your siblings. you're used to changing your words and your personality to be more digestible and gentle because this strong fear of conflict. you were scared of people being mean to you, so you avoided making anyone mad. it was like you were always tiptoeing over eggshells. now, you don't have to, so there's no point in worrying about people who don't worry about you. you'd be doing yourself and your inner child a favor by doing what you want. it might feel wrong to be yourself, but at least try. I won't delve too much into this part, but I believe some people in this pile also dealt with being oversexualized or being hyper sexual at a young age. I think it's important to know you're more than what you can give others for this pile. please also take a break for the love of god.

🐸 pile two,,

It's hard to feel loved if nobody shows you. at the same time, i don't think I'd want to be loved. it seems weird and uncomfortable. I'm not used to it so it's scary. I still wish that someone would care at least. it feels like nobody else cares. I'm really tired of things being silent and boring all the time. I want to do something fun. I want friends but I want to be by myself. people think I'm weird, but I think they're the weird ones. they can avoid me but I wouldn't wanna be friends with them anyway. it doesn't matter if it's lonely, I don't feel less lonely around people anyway. some people think I'm mean. I don't think I'm mean. i heard I look mean or I act mean sometimes, but what if that's just who I am? I don't try to be mean to people. I just don't want people to hurt me.

holy neglect trauma... there's a lot to unpack here 😓 first off, I hope you're alright. it seems like this pile never really learned how to interact with people and is probably still a bit of a people hater. this pile has had to keep strong boundaries and walls on to protect themselves from unfamiliar experiences (being spoken to positively.) if you've never experienced something, it can be scary but you have to stop thinking every little thing is gonna go wrong in your life. it's fine. separate note but I think someone's ancestors are very present here, might want to connect with them if you don't already. you can try to shut down the feelings of loneliness and pretend connection won't help but it does. you're probably not connected with your inner child or you're ashamed of yourself for some reason. trying to be cold won't undo anything or save you from the feelings you're hiding. you'll have to acknowledge them at some point. escapism and forcing ignorance wont help forever. hopefully it'll be sooner than later, but that's your choice. it's okay to be soft, btw.

🐕 pile three,,

I know what I'm talking about. I'm serious. I wish people would take me more seriously. i get good grades, I study hard, I always prove how smart I am. for some reason, people still act like I'm too young and stupid to have opinions or that what I say is just silly, especially with emotions. they act like having emotions makes you a less rational person. some people look down on me for who I am, too. it's not something I can change. whether it's gender, age, or whatever, people always want an excuse to ignore how I feel or what I have to say. I know I'm right though. I don't want us to stop expressing ourselves. I wanna share how I feel to the world.

this pile is extremely opinionated and knows how to share their emotions. this pile is for the "bossy" kids who "should have been lawyers" or "a CEO" according to every adult around them. you were emotional as a child and it was always ignored or joked off as if your feelings were invalid. this pile is definitely natural-born leaders so if you aren't/never have been aspiration-driven or "extra" this pile probably isn't yours. the most healing thing you can do for yourself at this point is speak up. continue to speak about everything. share your opinion more, it's safe now and people will actually take you seriously. be emotional, be too much, be annoying, be talkative, be over-opinionated, be everything you feel like being and don't let anyone talk you out of it. lead your life how you want to. call everything out, even if it means being weird. I definitely feel like some people in this pile had the gifted kid experience or liked to read a lot when they were younger. there's also some unresolved anger that might need to be taken care of. I think speaking up more instead of bottling feelings up will definitely help that, though. you're not stupid or weak for being emotional. just be yourself unapologetically and that's the best thing you can do for your younger self.

[localcryptidsteg]

Remember your protest/"enthusiastic" protest etiquette, in no particular order:

-If you MUST have a phone or other smart device, stick it in a faraday bag. Do not remove it from the bag until you are WELL away from the protest area.

-Program your emergency contacts into your phone and write them on a note beforehand, along with any allergies or medical conditions you may have should it become necessary. Make sure it is kept in a safe place on your person at all times

-Bring clean, filtered water with you, or milk in a cooler. You will need it if pepperspray/mace is brought out. If they pull out the skunk, youre fucked. Best bet is to throw any cannisters back the way they came. If you DO get skunked find a chemist buddy. We actually dont have a solid formula to break it down because we dont know its exact chemical makeup, but that can be solved if we get enough mad scientist buddies on it.

-DO NOT damage small businesses. They are not your enemy, they are not your target.

-If you are recording events for posterity make sure you are using a camera that has no wifi capabilities. No phones, as Ive already stressed, but also nothing else that can record location data or connect to wifi. Avoid filming anyone whose face is uncovered. Do not post ANYTHING you film online, spread it analog.

-COVER YOUR DAMN FACE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. Wear bulky clothing and oversized shoes, keep tattoos and other identifying features covered, wear gloves (no leather, those carry a print. Thick suede is fine). If you were there, no the fuck you werent.

-Keep. Your mouth. Shut. If anyone you do not trust completely or was not with you at the protest asks about the protest, you were not there. If law enforcement asks about ANYTHING, tangentially related or otherwise, you are not speaking without legal counsel present. If you went with anyone, no you didn't, because you didnt go. If you saw someone there you knew, no you didn't, because you weren't there in the first place.

-If someone gets sprayed or injured, circle up around them to protect them while your designated medic takes care of it. Do not allow breaches of the protective circle. Moshpit rules apply fully to this but in reverse: if someone tries to get in, you shove them back for all you're worth. If that doesn't stop them, punch. Aim for the face, solar plexus, or sternum.

-If you MUST bring a self defense item: nothing lethal, nothing you cant hide easily on your person, and for fucks sake no mace. Mace/pepperspray is instant aoe friendly fire if you dont have the proper protective covering

-Maybe invest in some kevlar. Most protests shouldnt require it, but you never know. Military-grade plate carriers are also widely and easily available for the average schmuck, go find your local military surplus/consignment store and pay in cash. Failing any of that.... airsoft gear is better than nothing, phonebooks are better than airsoft gear. Im not kidding, btw. Stack two layers of phonebooks and strap them together into some kinda fucked up shield and theyll stop pretty much any caliber a cop is cleared to carry.

-Speaking of shields! You're gonna love this, riot shield are VERY easy to acquire, usually from the stores I just mentioned. Get one. You know you want one.

Stick together. Do not leave the crowd, no matter what. If cops start harrassing people, ignore them as much as possible. If cops start attacking people, get the fuck out of dodge CALMLY. Do not run, do not shove other protestors, and DO NOT break from the group until you're away from the fuzz.

IF A COP GRABS YOU: Do not resist, do not fight. Know your states laws about what is mandatory to answer for a cop and what is not. ONLY answer if silence would catch you another charge. Outside of that you shut the fuck up until your attorney is present. Police are not trained to protect your rights, they're trained to weasel around them in every way possible. The BEST way to combat this is to say nothing.

If, for some reason, you are arrested: Let your lawyer talk for you. Be VERY explicit in asking for a lawyer. "I am invoking my right to a lawyer. I will not answer further questions without my lawyer present." That is your script. If they keep pressing, just keep repeating that line. Detectives will try pretty much anything they can to get you to keep talking or go back on your request for a lawyer. DO NOT answer them.

If you are merely detained: Be compliant, but again, shut the fuck up. Only give the information you are required to give.

On a more lighthearted note: Make sure you're dressing appropriately for the weather (rain gear/snow gear/sun umbrellas) and wear comfy shoes! Protests involve a lot of walking and standing around. Bring at least one case of water with you on top of your emergency bottle to stay hydrated. Take a folding chair so you can sit if you get sick of standing. Bring a blanket and some snacks, have a picnic at the protest, wear a full costume to obscure your identity, go nuts and have fun with it!

Kindly take a break from scrolling to read this, it's important.

Take your time to grieve and come to terms with the election results, but once you've done that, it's time to get to work. We have two months. And a lot to do in that time. We have to prepare, to be ready.

Be careful about what you post or say online. Anything potentially incriminating should be avoided. Threatening language, even if clearly a joke, can be used against you.

Know someone who's trans? Someone who's had an abortion? Someone who's LGBTQIA+? Someone who's an immigrant? Someone who attends protests? Someone who's disabled? Someone who might in any way be at risk due to laws being put into place? No you don't.

Move away from social media platforms and browsers that require you to use your real identity or input a large amount of personal information. Now's a good time to find alternate means of communicating online. Tails, Element, Tor, Mastodon, Firefox, and Lemmy are all decent options.

Find a community. Someone you can talk to, either online or in real life, that you'll have reliable contact with. We need to try and create a network, but one that's as anonymous as possible.

Start scrubbing your trail as much as possible. Get rid of old accounts that can still be traced to you but are no longer used, delete personal data off the internet. There are websites out there that will freely remove your data from the internet, but be careful about which one you use, make sure it's safe and legitimate first.

Change any usernames that you can that contain any personal information. Names, birthdays, anything.

Plan B has a four year shelf life. Stock up, but don't take more than you you'll need. We don't want a COVID repeat where everyone buys an excessive amount of things and leaves none for everybody else.

There are doctors that will sterilize you, if that's the way you want to go.

Stop using online period trackers right now. Delete all data from it if possible first, then delete the app itself. If you must, write it down, but in a subtle manner and on something you keep at home. Don't label it, just put the dates. If you're really worried, discard older records and only keep the most recent few, and label the dates as other random events, like "go to mall" or "chicken salad for dinner this night"

Get your vaccines now.

Save money.

Archive. We have to start collecting records, media, data, books, and articles now. On racism, on fascism, on homophobia, on gender, on self-reliance, on survival, on safe travels routes, on equality, on justice, on anything that may be useful and/or censored soon. We can't let them erase it.

Collect those online resources. Bookmark them, copy files into your storage, Screenshot pages. Create a decentralized library where everyone is working to be part of a whole, storing what they can individually and sharing it between one another. Again, be careful about doing this.

Second-hand bookstores are your best friend. Books are usually very cheap in them, and they often have a decent stock. See what you can find.

When buying ANYTHING I have mentioned above, or anything else that maybe put you in danger, try to use cash to reduce your spending trail.

Check your car information online, many newer models can be remotely tracked.

Turn your phone completely off if you may be at risk due to your location and current activities. Turning off your GPS also helps.

Take note of where you are. Who are your friends? Who's a safe person? Where can you go besides your own home that you know you'll be safe? Establish these connections now.

Who around you is not safe? Who and where do you need to avoid? Do you need to move? If you cannot afford moving but need to, there are fundraisers that can help you. If even that is not an option, at least try to make sure your home is secure. Have someone who can help you. Have a fallback safe place.

And finally, I want anyone with resources to put them in the replies. Flood it with useful links, information, tips, anything. We're in this together. Do not panic. Organize.

EDIT: Please be civil in the replies.

[forthegothicheroine]

I don't know if you do requests for the Great Detectives, but I'd love to see how you think the Great Detectives would handle the murder of King Hamlet of Denmark.

This is a GREAT one! The big question is whether they all talk to the ghost of the dead king; I think I'm going to have to take that on a case-by-case basis, with whatever feels right for any specific detective.

So, in a series I do sometimes, how would various great detectives solve the murder of King Hamlet...

Sherlock Holmes: Well, obviously ghosts don't exist, so jot that down. But in Holmes's experience, living humans often pretend to be ghosts (or even make dogs pretend to be ghosts!) so who could this be? The young prince Hamlet, who everybody says has gone mad? Holmes deduces that he isn't mad at all, and is in fact conducting psychological warfare against his hated uncle; while Holmes disapproves, he concludes that the boy is completely right about Claudius due to his knowledge of the play The Murder of Gonzago, as seen when he's upset about changes in a production. The Murder of Gonzago is a play which premiered in a town in Denmark known for its manufacturing of poisons for pest control!

Hercule Poirot: Poirot is quite sad to hear that the monarch who invited him as a celebrity guest has died; why does this always have to happen when he goes on vacation? Polonius spies on the guy to see what he's up to, but Poirot is much better at snooping on people than he is, and nobody can keep anything hidden for very long. He gives a summation where he reveals Claudius killed his brother. Prince Hamlet immediately goes to attack his uncle and they struggle over a sword. King Claudius falls dead and Poirot bows out, because determining whether Hamlet should suffer consequences or just become king is not his department.

Sam and Peter: Hear me out- if we bump Hamlet down from ambiguously college-aged to ambiguously high school aged, we can replace Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. These two nerdy kids are shipped in to cheer their friend (more like acquaintance) Hamlet up, and to his surprise, they respond to his depressing monologues by taking notes and asking for further details on why the world is so corrupt. Hamlet isn't so happy about them doing an investigation into "What is up with Hamlet's super hot mom?" but when they suggest interviewing Claudius to see if he has the face of a liar, he enlists them to help out with putting on The Murder of Gonzago. The rest of the play mostly goes the same, but they find the letter Claudius planted on them and show it to Hamlet. One of the last lines of the play is when Fortinbras is looking at everyone lying dead, but then Osric points out "Sam and Peter are alive!"

Phryne Fisher: Phryne is a dubious (if genteel) woman Laertes has taken up with, whom Polonius is doing everything in his power to drive away. Phryne doesn't care, but it does bring her attention to the fact that the man is apparently constantly spying on everyone in the castle. On whose behalf is he doing this? King Claudius? Is he afraid someone may assassinate him because of his brother's suspicious death? What was the official story about that, anyway? She exchanges sexy insults with Prince Hamlet, refusing to be cowed, and ultimately agrees to play the queen in his production of The Murder of Gonzago (where she gets a little too into the love scene.) When she turns and looks directly in Claudius's eye in the audience during a crucial line, she can see the answer to everything. Claudius tries to convince Laertes to kill her, saying she corrupted Ophelia into being a whore for a mad prince, but Laertes can't go through with it and kills Claudius instead.

Dale Cooper: King Hamlet's ghost tells him who killed him in a dream, but Cooper doesn't remember. He befriends Horatio and tells him that in order to understand the death of the king, it is crucial for them to study an old Icelanic poem about a man who feigns madness, because the answer to the mystery lies somewhere within. Horatio doesn't totally get it, but he figures Cooper must know what he's doing and goes along with it. When everyone is gathered to watch a production of The Murder of Gonzago, Cooper first steps up onto the stage, guided by a spirit in the form of a snake wearing a crown, to announce that King Claudius killed his brother. Prince Hamlet immediately stabs his uncle. Determining whether Hamlet should suffer consequences or just become king is not Cooper's department.

Philip Marlowe: All I know is, most of this mystery involves him getting thrown off the palace grounds repeatedly and being told that a bum like him better keep away from King Claudius if he knows what's good for him. If he ever gets out of Denmark alive, Marlowe thinks to himself, he's never leaving LA during the winter ever again.

Sam Vimes: Vimes can actually interview the ghost, but that doesn't mean the case is closed. He's not worried about the ghost actually being a deceitful fiend, he just thinks there's a possibility he's wrong. After all, if Vimes was poisoned and his ghost found out some creepy relative immediately married his wife and took his job, he would also jump to conclusions! He spends a lot of time yelling at royal people and getting threatened with execution (Vimes doesn't know how his job ended up involving so many clashes with royalty, but so it goes), and is disrespectful of religion enough to spy on Claudius while he's having his remorseful confession. He can't arrest him, but he spreads the word around, and as the royal court dissolves into backstabbing and finger-pointing, Vetinari walks in with a full retinue (and more importantly, a list of all the debts Denmark owes to Ankh-Morpork) to evaluate the situation and congratulate Claudius on his "excellent decision" to abdicate. Claudius later dies of a totally natural snake bite in his ear.

Columbo:

Your Majesty, King Claudius, forgive My clumsy common nature. I am not A noble gentleman, nor do I live With such great honor as yourself- a thought, However, troubles me this night. For how Should some strange serpent come to bite a king? And why within his ear? It puzzles! Now, I beg that I may ask just one more thing…

[adioringhamzah]

dress to impress hamzah

your boyfriend is not giving you enough attention, so you come up with an idea (sfw)

inspired by this ask (tysm<33)

your boyfriend hamzah was in his office, or what he would propably call his "man cave". you were getting a little tired of hearing him laugh at his laptop. he was probably playing one of his silly games with martin but it was already 6pm and you were insanely bored.

thankfully at that same moment, someone rang your door, you opened it and were pleasantly surprised when you saw your house of cb order. you would've never bought from them because of their insane prices, but your sweet boyfriend had decided to let you use his card, you loved when he payed for your orders.

you quickly opened the huge box and saw all your beautiful dresses wrapped in little plastic bags. you loudly called hamzah to ask him if he wanted a haul, but he didn't say anything, so you assumed he didn't hear because of his headphones.

you first tried a short pink shapewear dress which made your body look even better than it already did. it looked way too good not to show anyone, so you barged into the man cave.

hamzah looked surprised at first, headphones still on his ears, but as soon as he saw your short dress, he put them down, giving you the attention you craved. "you look so pretty," you blushed, knowing he was right but loving the compliment, and you asked him if he wanted to see the rest, but surprisingly enough, he declined, saying he wanted to finish his game. you frowned, overly annoyed by his reaction. you're obviously more important than whatever silly game he was playing, but you let him get back to it, still standing next to him.

you were about to leave when you told yourself you should probably get some kind of revenge. so you did.

you started removing your skin thight dress, struggling a little. but you took it off soon enough and were left there, with only your lacey panties to keep you warm. hamzah was still playing his game, totally oblivious to the fact that you were standing topless next to him.

you boldly pulled all the wires coming from his computer, hoping at least one would make it shut down. "y/n what the fuck do you think you're doing?" he basically screamed, before his eyes landed on your half naked body.

his madness quickly turned into lust, and he took off his headphones as fast as he could, before putting his hands on your hips. he hadn't seen you naked in a while now because you had both been so busy, and you could just see how horny he was. he was looking up to your tits from his gamer chair, his eyes filled with so much desire.

your whole body was cold, and you could feel your chest getting harder. when you looked down to hamzah, you saw something else getting hard in his grey sweatpants and you chuckled a little.

he looked almost a little embarrassed and tapped on his tights to invite you to sit. you did so very fast, and he hugged you from behind, caressing all the upper part of your body that was getting hot from his body heat. you turned your head around just to see his flushed face.

hope u liked it<3

[puck-luck]

this was born out of a text exchange between me and cappy where i rewatched the "coming home" youtube video and quinn had the audacity to bend over the edge of the table like a SLUT. my message about that moment was "I HATE him for putting his leg up on the edge like this (and you know what? Bea would fuck him on the pool table fs)". Cappy replied: "also - circling back to the fucking on the pool table. yes i do think that should be included in bea’s book. love that both girls fuck their men on the pool table". then I discussed how Bea is going to ask how it was for Honey because position-wise, she wasn't super comfy "And then honey’s going to be like “bruh” and then bea will be like “aw that’s so cute of us, we fucked our guys in the same place 😊 we’re basically semen sisters” and honey is going to be so affronted". So that's what inspired this. I started having visions when I was supposed to work on my grad school essay, so I needed to write it down to get it out of my mind.

HERE! is the beaquinn pool table sex. if you want to know what's happening with honeytrev at the same time as this, you can reread days 30-33 in Chapter 5 of stg. LOVE YOU! say it back. ENJOY!

[5.1K WORDS]

Bea almost doesn’t want to leave Quinn’s bed when she hears the front door creak open, signaling the brothers’s return from Las Vegas. It’s warm in here and the pillow smells like Quinn. Her t-shirt will have to do. It’s Quinn’s old yellow Michigan t-shirt, which falls big on her but not big enough to cover her behind. The hardwood floor is cold as she makes her way out of bed and throws the sheets back into place, tiptoeing down the hall and the stairs without making the floor creak too much. Bea undoes the messy braid on the back of her head, knowing how Quinn likes it when her hair is loose for him to play with. She shakes out her hair as she creeps down the stairs, the whispers of the brothers getting louder with each step.

“Jack, the door–” Luke hisses just before the front door bangs shut.

Bea stifles a giggle by pressing her fingers over her lips, still hiding in the shadows of the staircase. 

The boys stand in almost identical poses, shoulders tense and heads ducked. They’re waiting for one of their housemates to wake up and get mad at them for making so much noise. They’re lucky– Cole’s been dead to the world since about 10:30 and Trevor went to bed around 11 after he talked with Honey. Bea doesn’t know exactly what happened, since Honey is still so unsure about this Trevor thing, with good reason, but she knows that Honey had to remind him to think before he speaks. Bea is so glad she doesn’t have that problem– Quinn loves to think before he speaks. The other boys are less thoughtful, but she’s never had to chew them out for saying something stupid.

“Close one, eh?” Jack whispers, although he’s bad at whispering, so his voice just seems softer than normal.

Bea steps out of the shadows, staying close to the wall like it’ll camouflage her bright yellow shirt. 

“Bea,” Quinn breathes out, noticing her immediately. He sets his suitcase down next to him, a smile growing on his face when he recognizes her outfit.

“You’re late,” Bea whispers, matching his grin. “You said 1:30.”

“Sorry,” Quinn says, but he doesn’t seem all that sorry.

“There was a crash on 77,” Luke adds. “Pretty bad. Probably better that it happened in the middle of the night, since there weren’t as many cars on the road.”

Bea hums. “That’s sad.”

“Have you been up this whole time?” Jack asks. “It’s late.”

Bea shakes her head. “Slept a little bit.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jack grins. “Whose bed?”

Stupid. Bea snorts, taking a few more steps until she’s in front of him. She lifts her hand and squishes his cheeks between her fingers. “Not yours,” she says. “G’night, Jacky.”

He makes a kissing noise at her, then steps back and bumps into the table in the hall. “Oops,” he mumbles. “Night, Bea.”

Luke echoes a goodnight and pats Bea on the back, holding both his and Quinn’s suitcases in his hands. The brothers squeeze past her, leaving Quinn and Bea in the dark alone.

She grins at him, bouncing a little bit on her tiptoes out of excitement. She’s missed him. Quinn smiles back, his eyes glinting in the darkness. He’s the first to step forward, sweeping her up into his arms in a tight hug. He buries his face in her neck, letting his arms push her shirt up so that he can touch the smooth expanse of her back. Bea wraps her arms over his shoulders and plays with his hair, breathing him in. He smells a little bit like airport, but the scent of his sandalwood shampoo is stronger than ever. 

“You shower this morning?” Bea asks, pinching the close-cut strands on the back of his head between her fingers. 

“God, I knew you were going to comment on that,” Quinn groans, pulling away from her. His hands rest on Bea’s waist, pinkies brushing the band of her cheeky underwear. “I was on a plane for like five hours, babe.”

Bea’s stomach twists at the pet name, her cheeks turning a little red and her mouth widening somehow further. She admires Quinn for a moment, eyes cataloging how his face looks sharper with his stubble only just growing back. Her eyes pass over the scar on his cheek. Honey only just noticed it the other night. It’s one of Bea’s favorite things about his face– tied for first with, well, everything else. 

She realizes that she’s gone too long without replying, mostly because the edges of Quinn’s lips are tilting upward in an amused way.

“Hey, winner,” Bea greets, tilting her head to kiss him hello. “Missed you.”

Quinn breathes out a tiny laugh, kissing her again like a reply. “I missed you, too. Was thinking about you the whole time.”

Bea faux-gasps. “You were thinking about me, but you didn’t even thank me in your speech?”

Quinn chuckles, a little louder this time. His thumb runs along her hip, petting the skin there. It makes Bea’s sides feel warm, like the friction is sending shocks through her body. “Oh, come on. How would that have sounded?”

“‘And thank you to Bea McLean, the best person I’ve ever met’...?” Bea teases, blinking at Quinn. “Obviously. Sounds pretty good to me.”

Quinn shakes his head, still smiling fondly. He rolls his eyes a little bit, but he concedes. “I’ll work it in next time.”

“I’m expecting it. First back-to-back Norris winner since Nicklas Lindstrom, yeah?”

“Lidstrom, baby,” Quinn corrects. He pulls Bea close again, hugging her for the second time. His hands rub up and down her back again and Bea swears that she can feel his fingerprints as he moves. “You tired?”

“I slept a little. Are you tired?”

“Had a coffee at the airport ‘cause I’m stupid,” Quinn replies. His voice turns sarcastic, overly dramatic and trying to get her sympathy. “And the boys were draining me, they’re so annoying.”

Bea pats his chest. “You love them,” she reminds him.

Quinn’s easy to break. “Yeah,” he agrees. “They’re pretty great.” He pauses, eyes flickering over her face akin to how she surveyed him earlier. “Wanna go watch a movie?”

“Movie will put me to sleep. We can play a round of pool, if you want. Keep your winning streak going,” Bea teases. 

“You just want to bend over in front of me,” Quinn bites back, laughing. His hands go to her behind, covering Bea’s cheeks with his palms. “Distract me with your panties.”

“It would be more distracting if I wasn’t wearing them,” Bea points out, wiggling back into Quinn’s touch. 

“I think you’re already distracting enough in my Michigan shirt,” Quinn says. “C’mon. Let’s go downstairs. You can fill me in on the past couple days while you lose.”

He’s got that playful tone in his voice again, the one that Bea loves. It’s so domestic, the way that she and Quinn talk to each other. They’ve got a vibe about them, something that fits like a puzzle piece, but Bea is getting too far ahead of herself. It’s not even July. They’re just having fun, by her own design. So what if he calls her ‘baby’ and it makes her stomach flip-flop every time?

They’re still trying to be quiet as they head down to the basement, making sure to close the door behind them. Quinn racks the balls and Bea chooses her usual stick– she only knows which one it is because it’s got a chip about ⅓ of the way down the shaft– and starts to tell him what he missed. 

“Honey tried to ban Trevor from the store because he’s bad at being a person,” Bea starts. “I don’t know the drama, but apparently he doesn’t think.”

“Have they fucked yet?” Quinn asks, rounding the table and stationing himself to break the rack. Bea never breaks when they play. She’s not very good at hitting one ball, much less strategically breaking up a group of fifteen. “Or are they still stuck on him fingering her in the back room?”

“They’re still stuck. She likes him so much, though, she just won’t admit it,” Bea continues. She looks at the table. Quinn made one of the stripes in off of his break– 14 maybe– so he’s trying to pick his second ball now.

“She’ll get there. It’s kind of like a tree falling, isn’t it,” Quinn says. He lines up the 11-ball with the pocket and knocks it in, then purposefully bumps off the wall in a meaningless shot so that Bea has a chance. “Takes a while, but once she’s down, she’s down.”

Hmm. “I’ve never thought of it like that,” Bea tells him. “That’s smart, Q. You’re right.” She eyes the 5-ball, since it’s kind of in the way of all of the ones she wants to get to. Might as well move it. Bea crosses the table and shoots it off to the other side of the table. A problem for later.

“You can’t try to lose on purpose,” Quinn chides.

“I’m not trying to lose on purpose, I just wanted to get that one out of the way,” Bea argues back. 

Quinn rolls his eyes and sighs. “You should’ve shot at the 7.”

Bea side eyes him. “Don’t tell me what I should’ve done. Mansplainer.”

Quinn shrugs. “Just trying to help.” He focuses on his next shot. “What’d you do after we left?”

“Worked. I dragged Honey here to watch the Awards, we played Uno– I won, by the way, and I’ll school you next time we play–” Quinn interrupts her with a laugh, narrowly missing a pocket when the ball bounces off the corner edge. “I called you after you won, and then we broke out the hot tub earlier today.”

That catches Quinn’s interest. “Oh, yeah?” He asks. “You took a dip? Did Cole try anything stupid?”

Bea hears the insinuation immediately. “No, Cole and I didn’t hook up while you were gone,” she says with a tinge of fake exasperation in her voice. “I told you over the phone on Thursday, I only have sex with men who have won the James Norris trophy.”

Quinn laughs aloud, throwing his head back. “How long is that going to last?” He teases. “Just so I can know when I’m back to graciously sharing you with the other boys.”

Bea groans. When they’re alone, Quinn always flaunts how he was the first and how he’s her favorite. He gets a kick out of acting like he’s special and Bea pretends to hate it. He is special, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I can still go up to Jack’s bed now, you know.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Bea leans over to shoot at one of her solids. It bounces off a wall and changes directions. “That’s all that happened this weekend, really. Tell me about Vegas. Lose any money?”

“Tons,” Quinn confirms, but the cheeky grin on his face tells her that he’s stretching the truth. He starts to talk about how he and his brothers snuck Luke into the casino with a well-placed bribe to the doorman and autographs for his kids. The stories from the weekend pile up as Quinn and Bea mill around the table, taking shots and sinking them in Quinn’s case, missing them in Bea’s. He tells her about the people he saw, the things he did, the interviews he had, that he got an offer to be on the cover of NHL 25 but he’s going to hold out until they let him bring Jack and Luke with him, and that he’s happy he got to see his mom and dad. He officially tells Bea that they’re coming for Fourth of July, although that surprise had already been spoiled by Trevor on Thursday. 

Quinn wins– of course. Bea wasn’t going to win this game unless he intentionally threw it, like her first time playing him. They’re past the intentional throws now. Bea goes to update the board– honor code is highly valued in this house– and Quinn pockets the rest of the balls so that everything is nice and clean for tomorrow. There’s no sense in leaving them out. She can hear Quinn sneaking up behind her.

“You look good in my shirt, sweetheart,” Quinn murmurs, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and kissing Bea’s shoulder. “I gotta get you in Michigan gear more often.”

“You know, if they ever play Carolina again, you’ll have to pry my UNC gear from my cold, dead body,” Bea says, reaching a hand around and threading her fingers through Quinn’s hair again.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I pried the clothes off this body,” Quinn says, self-satisfied smirk evident in his voice. He turns Bea in his grip so that she’s facing him. He kisses her, more than a greeting peck this time. “You tired yet?”

Once again, Bea can see right through his question. “Not a chance. I’ve been waiting for my winner to get home.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Quinn praises, voice low. He captures Bea’s lips again, moving against her in the comfortable way that they’ve adopted in the weeks since they’ve been seeing each other. 

Bea lets Quinn lead this time, his hands guiding her closer. He’s got a palm under her shirt, resting on the small of her back, and the other cradles her face gently, like something precious. Bea knows that it’s a casual thing, but she likes to lose herself in moments like this. Quinn is just so… all-consuming. He’s like a really loud and unexpected clap of thunder, one that rumbles on for longer than you expect. His touch makes Bea jump, sometimes.

Her hands explore him a bit, like she doesn’t get to touch him all the time. The difference is that Bea finds something new every time and she never tires of getting her hands on Quinn. She knows that he tends to be insecure when it comes to his build, which comes from years of being an awkward teen with a nose that seemed too big for his face and acne that riddled his forehead, but Bea can’t imagine Quinn as anything other than perfect.

He’d be slightly more perfect if he had a bedroom to himself. 

“I feel bad kicking Luke out,” Bea whispers to Quinn when they break for air. “You guys got in so late. He’s probably asleep.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Quinn replies. He brings his hands to the backs of Bea’s thighs and lifts her up, guiding her legs around his waist. “We don’t need a bed.”

Bea makes a face. “We stay fuckin’ in the bed, Q.” Lord knows she’s not against having sex in an odd place– the back of Griffin’s patrol car, for one– but she and Quinn haven’t really branched out yet. “I didn’t know you were so adventurous.”

“What can I say,” Quinn teases. “You bring something out in me. Let’s try something new.” He nips at her bottom lip, then drags his tongue against the area he bit. “It’ll be fun.”

Bea giggles. He gets so flirty and touchy, sometimes. “What are you thinking, Crazy?” She teases him right back with the nickname, bringing her index finger to the curve of his nose. It really is the perfect size and shape– so appealing. 

She’s distracted by a memory, from the second time they hooked up. Quinn had told her that he didn’t get to do everything he wanted the first time, and when she asked what he meant, he’d licked his first two fingers and slid the wet digits against the fabric of her underwear. She’d gotten much more wet when he made his way between her legs with his mouth, kissing and licking over her folds and entrance as the fabric molded to her anatomy. It was only then that he’d removed the panties and gotten his mouth on her properly– the vision often comes to her when she’s trying to sleep at home, alone. His nose had been so nice then, bumping against her clit as he’d ravished her.

Bea’s stomach grows a little warmer at the reminder. 

“I want you right here,” Quinn says, breaking her from the spell. He sits Bea down on the edge of the pool table, the cool wood of the edges pressing against her thighs while the felt of the table scrapes against the hem of her shirt. He stands between her legs and places a hand behind her head, kissing her and leaning forward so that she’ll lay back. Once Bea is laying down, flat underneath Quinn, he pushes her shirt up and takes it off. 

The felt of the table feels weird under her bare skin, but it’s not bad. The bite of the ridge of the table is worse against her thighs, but Bea doesn’t speak up about it because Quinn’s removing his shirt.

The moonlight from outside makes him seem paler than he is, but it creates a beautiful series of shadows across his body that emphasize his muscles. His arms seem like they’re bulging more, his chest has more definition, and his jawline– oh, his jawline. Bea didn’t realize just how much his long hair hid that from her.

“I like your haircut,” Bea says, not realizing how silly and belated it sounds when she’s almost entirely naked on the pool table below him. 

Quinn chuckles, smiling at her. One side of his lips lifts higher than the other, which is how she knows that he’s blushing, even when the moonlight hides it. “Thanks, baby,” he says softly, leaning down again to find her lips. His cock, still trapped by his pants, fits perfectly against the place where she wants him most. 

She grinds up against him, drawing a low moan from the back of Quinn’s throat. He placates her with kiss after kiss down her neck and between her tits, as far down as he can go while he keeps his pelvis in line with her own. He’s fiddling with his zipper with one hand, kneading Bea’s right breast with his left hand. The skin of his fingertips is a little dry, but his thumb catches her nipple just right and Bea keens, her vision getting a little darker.

“Missed me that much, hm?” Quinn teases in his low voice. “Two days I’m gone, baby, and you’re this needy? What am I going to do with you when I’m gone for a week, or two?”

Bea reaches to his hair and brings his lips to hers, to silence him. She’s beyond talking and beyond teasing. She wants him inside, like, yesterday. 

“Relax, I’m coming,” Quinn assures Bea, mumbling his words against her lips. He finally takes his hand from her breast to shove his pants and underwear down, stepping out of them so he can move better. He drags his tip through her folds, her wetness gathering along his skin. “Did you mean it?” He asks. “What you said on the phone?”

Bea pauses, wracking her brain. She said a lot of things on the phone to Quinn. She meant them all. She’s about to say yes, just so he can get on with it, but then she spots the way he’s biting his lower lip and his eyes have turned hungry. They’re trained on the place where he’s nudging his tip against her clit, slit bubbling out precum and dripping on the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“What part?” Bea asks, captivated by the look on Quinn’s face. 

His eyes rise to hers and he looks positively intoxicated by whatever he’s thinking. Bea’s skin crawls a little, but not in a bad way. In an excited way– whatever Quinn’s referring to, he wants badly. Bea wants to see him give into that.

“That you’d reward me for winning,” he prompts, eyes darting from her gaze to her lips, which have parted in recognition. “By letting me fuck you bare.” His jaw clenches a bit once he says it, but Bea reads him. He’s not sure what she’ll say and he seems cautious to show his deeper thoughts on that, but his caution is betraying him anyway. Bea knows Quinn. She speaks his language, reads his tics, and understands him. He wants this.

“Norris winners get to come inside me,” Bea says, repeating the exact words that she whispered into the speaker while he stroked himself in the Las Vegas hotel bathroom. It was his tipping point, and now she understands why. “Since you won, you get to feel all of me.” Her throat seems drier than before when she swallows. Bea’s never had that before– she’s thought about it, hence why she brought it up to Quinn in the first place. It’s why she gets the shot every three months instead of relying on condoms– in case, one day, there was a man that she wanted in the most intimate way. That day is today. “Fuck me, Quinn.”

His mouth is insistent when it joins hers, tongue dragging over her own and filling the space between her lips. “Baby,” Quinn groans. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Preferably not right now,” Bea jokes, lifting her hips to remind him of the task at hand. 

Quinn laughs at the joke, smiling into his next kiss. “You’re so perfect,” he says. “Can’t believe I met you.”

Bea feels his words on her heart like a prick of a rose’s thorn. A little bit of herself seeps out, flooding her chest and making her eyebrows furrow with the sudden rush of emotion. “Quinn,” Bea says, feeling like she’s whining a little bit.

“Okay, okay, I won’t say it anymore,” he says, returning his focus to the space between her legs. He wastes another few seconds, entranced by his tip going through her folds, before he lines himself up and starts to shift forward. He moans quietly at the feeling, just expelling the breath from his lungs.

Bea’s surprised by the feeling too– at least, she thinks Quinn’s feeling some sort of surprise. He’s certainly relishing in the experience, trying to catalog how she feels around him with the way his eyes have drifted shut and his mouth has fallen open. She closes her eyes to do the same– and finds that it’s not that different, all in all. She just feels closer to him.

“Please, move,” Bea whispers, resting her hand on Quinn’s bicep, giving it a squeeze to prompt him. Well, that, and she wanted to feel the muscle beneath it. The moonlight had her wondering if it was really that much more defined. 

“Gimme a sec,” Quinn grits out, taking a breath. “You just feel so–” He exhales a sharp breath. “Fuck, you feel good.”

Another thorn to the chest– Bea has to breathe in deep to steel herself. This doesn’t feel like just fucking anymore.

She’s able to put that aside when Quinn starts to drag himself out of her heat, then push back in. His hair is tickling her nose with the way that his head has fallen forward in pleasure, so Bea pushes it out of the way with her palm. Quinn’s forehead has started to bead with sweat, but only barely. His eyes catch hers.

His eye contact has always made the hair on her arms stand up, increasing her pleasure tenfold. He’s so attentive to her needs, crowding into her space and touching her tits and sides in the way that makes her feel like a lighting rod gearing up for a strike. 

Quinn breaks first. “Bea,” he murmurs, dipping his head to mouth against her neck. He leaves a wet spot there, which dries in the cool, early morning air. His hand moves from her side to her thigh, spreading her legs further so that he can inch closer. He seems determined to be as close to her as he can, touching her in every way. 

“I know,” Bea replies. “Harder, Quinn. Take it. Make me come. Need you to feel my pussy when it comes on your bare cock.”

His moan is choked but loud when she says that. Quinn’s hips start to move the way she’s used to– harder, faster, determined. He’s louder like this, or maybe it’s the silence of the basement and the night that surrounds them playing tricks on Bea’s mind. It’s just– his breath is warmer and she feels like she can feel him moving in her bones. This is more.

Quinn brings his thumb to her mouth, which Bea takes greedily. She knows his moves– he wants her to get him all wet so that he can touch her somewhere she needs. She swirls her tongue around the digit, leaving as much saliva as she can on his thumb before he pulls it from her mouth with a pop. 

His hand drifts to her boobs again, finding one of her nipples and pinching it with his slick finger. He tugs a little, which prompts Bea’s spine to arch like her body is begging him to do it again. Quinn does, but he switches nipples, wiggling his hand between their bodies and taking hold of her. He kisses her again, distracting her from the mixture of pain and pleasure. All the while, he’s bucking into her desperately, displacing her on the pool table. 

Her thigh starts to spasm under his hand, twitching because she’s close. Bea wraps her arms around Quinn’s shoulders, a mirror image of the hug she gave him at the beginning of their night. He’s not the only one who wants to be close.

“Fuck, Quinn, keep going,” Bea pleads, shifting as best she can to remove the pressure of the edge of the pool table from her body. It’s a dull ache, distracting her from Quinn’s cock and the way it moves in her cunt. His tip meets the cartilage of her cervix relentlessly, turning her vision spotty with the sensation. It feels so wet with him unprotected inside of her, leaking and mixing with her own slick. 

He shifts so that he’s hovering just a few inches above her body, hands going from her thigh and her breast to both of her hips. He grips her skin, biting his lower lip to stifle his grunts. His eyes have grown focused, narrowing the way they do when he evaluates a shot on this very table or when he tries to dance between the boys on the hockey rink outside to score. He pulls her back into him, all while thrusting his hips forward, and Bea’s falling into an unfamiliar space where only Quinn has ever placed her. 

“Fuck,” Bea whines, reaching for Quinn and coming up with nothing, so she clutches at the pocket of the pool table instead. She holds the wood between her fingers, sure that she’ll either warp the table or break her fingers from the force of her grip. “‘M coming, Q.”

“Good girl,” Quinn says through his teeth, his voice gravelly. “Let me feel it.”

Bea lets out a short cry, legs still shaking beneath Quinn. The bruising pain of the edge of the table is nothing now, not when there’s a chill making its way from the depths of her stomach to the tight coil in her stomach. 

“So perfect,” Quinn says again, praising Bea as she starts to come undone on his cock.

“You,” Bea corrects, breathless and reaching for Quinn again. She finds his forearm this time, circling her fingers around his wrist. She squeezes, trying to get her point across. He can say it all he wants, but she’s going to make sure she says it back, because he is. 

Her touch sends Quinn over the edge, which only intensifies the aftershocks of her own orgasm. Bea keens lowly in the back of her throat as Quinn’s jaw drops once again, eyes falling shut as his seed flows from his cock and paints her walls. The sensation surprises Bea, much like her original reaction to his raw form, and she constricts against him by accident. That spurs Quinn on, making him choke and plaster himself against her body as his cock releases the last of his cum.

His hips twitch inside of her after he’s done and Quinn has to clear his throat and shake his head to come back to himself. Bea pets his hair through it, focused on the feeling of his freshly cut ends between her fingers. 

“You should know that I really liked that,” Quinn says first.

Bea giggles, tugging his hair. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

Quinn bites the side of Bea’s neck to chastise her for teasing him. “You think you’re so funny.”

“I think I’m about to leak all over the pool table in your rented house if you don’t get me to a bathroom soon,” Bea replies. “Chop chop, babydoll.”

Quinn groans with the effort, but he lifts Bea from the pool table and awkwardly walks toward the basement’s bathroom, settling her on the already-lifted toilet seat– perks of living with a bunch of fucking boys, Bea thinks– and then he starts to wash his hands.

“Tired yet?” Quinn asks for a third time, looking over at Bea and grinning as he continues to rub the suds all over his hands and wrists. “Wanna watch a movie?”

Bea makes a face. “Are you trying to wash me off or something? Damn, Q, it’s been twenty seconds,” she replies instead, pretending to be offended and hurt. She doesn’t actually want to start watching a movie at 3 a.m. and Quinn should feel similarly. She wants to go to bed with him.

Quinn looks down at her vagina, very obviously, and quirks an eyebrow. “I mean, I just came in you, so I feel like that’s hard to wash away.” He rinses his hands and towels them off. “So no movie?”

“Oh my God, get out of the bathroom so I can pee,” Bea exclaims, starting to laugh a bit. “You’re so weird. No movie.”

“Episode of Love Island?” Quinn asks. “Any drama I missed between Leah and Rob?”

Bea points an accusing finger at him. “I knew you enjoyed my trashy shows,” she says. “And all this time you’ve been grumbling about them.”

Quinn shrugs. “No one will believe you,” he whispers conspiratorially. 

Bea purses her lips at him. “Well, good, because that’s my thing with Cole.” Quinn acts like he’s wounded, so Bea sticks her tongue out at him. “Not everything can be about you, Q.”

“I’ll get over it,” Quinn says. “You still like me best.”

Bea matches his previous whisper. “And no one will ever believe you.”

Quinn leaves the bathroom laughing. Bea hopes he goes upstairs to get one of the good blankets for them to share when they inevitably fall asleep on the couch after Quinn turns on a movie that Bea does not see the point in watching.

The background noise does help her sleep, though, and she thinks Quinn knows that.

sigh i love beaquinn they're so dreamy best couple ever can't believe they break up at the end of the summer OOPS SORRY SPOILERS (y'all already know that, i haven't been keeping that under wraps)

[respectthepetty]

GMMTV 2025 - Hot Tops and One Bottom

GMMTV offered up ONE straight show, and even though I'm salty that I didn't get Midnight Museum 2 and despite the current state of the world, I have never been happier to be alive at this exact moment that I'm living in. GMMTV really cemented that it is Disney BL, and said FUCK THEM HETEROS!

As usual, I'm listing what shows I'm most excited to see from GMMTV's annual unveiling, but in order to be fair to the other shows, I will not consider one of the shows in the rankings because I am a Jaidee fan first, and a human second:

Dare You to Death

My boys are giving me ~Murder, Manipulate, Make-Out, and MAYHEM~ so I'm already seated, sat, and sitted. I've always thought Joong should play a character who was insincere and a bit crazy, and Dunk should lean into his haughtiness (emphasis on HOT), so even though all these other shows look great, they aren't JoongDunk trying to solve a murder while trying to not murder each other, and it would be unfair of me to hold that against everyone else. I was going to take whatever I was getting from them, but THIS?! Sorry, to everyone else, but y'all never stood a chance.

#1a - Memoir of Rati

Moment of honesty - Inn and Great are fine as fuck. They are already attractive to begin with, so to put them in a historical drama, of course, I'm going to eat it up. This is a serious piece about political and social tensions which I have no doubts they will carry into getting some awards for it. I was getting worried that these two weren't going to have another show together next year, but not only did GMMTV give them one of the meatier plots, the series also has Aou and Boom in it with an amazing story as well, so this was easily my top choice.

Or at least it was my top choice until . . .

#1b - Ticket to Heaven

Religious trauma aligned with Catholicism is my special brand of queer angst, so this series already has me all the way fucked up. Fourth is such a phenomenal actor and Gemini always acts his ass off, so I know they will have me in a fetal position every single episode clutching my rosary and praying for God's mercy since I'm already in my feelings about this. The heathens in the room better read up on some biblical references because if you thought I was doing too much over a cross necklace in Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo and the praying in The Warp Effect, I Saw You in My Dreams, and Marahuyo Project, block me now because that was only the tip of the religious iceberg.

#2 - Cat for Cash

Although I'm a vegetarian, I'm a Disney villain who strongly dislikes animals, yet even I was happy to see First getting advice from cats on how to make coffee and how to win over Khao. This is the FirstKhao romance we have been waiting for! It looks soft and sincere, and even though the plot involves hearing cats, First as the worst debt collector and Khao as a grieving sad boy are their most realistic characters they have ever played. The series also looks like it's going to make me cry, so thank goodness Satang showed up to make sure I would be emotional about every show GMMTV gives me next year.

#3 - That Summer

On the topic of Satang, I'm shocked that I clicked with this trailer. I was ready to write this off as a Hallmark series due to its plot about a prince with amnesia falling in love with a commoner until the trailer revealed that he doesn't have amnesia, and the commoner knows he is a prince. The trailer situated the problem will come from their class differences plus Mond is kissing a homie (in secret), and since I just asked for more series with sad wet boys on the beach, this show goes at the top for GMMTV delivering me something I didn't know I wanted but a show I definitely needed.

#4 - A Dog and a Plane

Tay and New got me by the throat in 2019 and 2024 with Dark Blue Kiss and Peaceful Property, and even when I wanted to be mad at Cherry Magic, I couldn't because these men always sell the hell out of a ship even when they shouldn't. I'm a Jaidee fan first, and a human second, but I'll throw on some polar bear and whale jammies any day to join the Polcas because Tay and New have not disappointed me once in their joint shows or individual shows. So here I am, super duper excited to see New play a GAY flight attendant (a stereotype I love to see) whose man is trying to screw Pun only for Tay to take the hush money yet still catch feelings AND FLIGHTS! Marc's there too, so it's time I was served openly gay men who are trying to join the mile-high club since it's been over a decade since I got Pedro Almodóvar's I'm So Excited.

#5 - My Romance Scammer

I support marriage equality, but I do not believe in the institution of marriage, so I'm thrilled that GMMTV decided to throw me some gay divorce the same year gay marriage was legalized! Next, I'm getting the odd ball couple of Ohm and Fluke with Fluke being a dummy who falls for the first man who is nice to him, only for Marc to think he has a great relationship with Junior, BUT IT'S ALL A SCAM! I will probably end up defending this show with my life because this is the romcom romcoN I deserve!

Side Quest - Tarot Card Series

The theme for this year's announcement was "Riding the Wave" but it should have been "Wheel of Fortune" because there were a lot of shows about destiny and changing the future, so I'm going to rank those in a quick sub-category:

1) My Magic Prophecy

This is the dynamic I want to see from Jimmy and Sea. Jimmy IS a doctor, so getting a clean-cut smarmy version of him will pair so well with muscular Sea being a jerk. I was going to make a quirky comment about how they can now see the future as a reference to Last Twilight, but I'm still salty about that show, so I'll just be happy for them and THIS show.

2) Head 2 Head

I'm excited for the Only Boo kids because I think they should've gotten the My Love Mix-Up remake since I think they do well with being complete opposites that make perfect sense being together. This is also how I found out that Surf from I Saw You in My Dream is now with GMMTV.

So although it was awkward to realize GMMTV had acquired another BL boy under my chismosa nose (am I slipping?), it's nice to see the company staying on brand as Disney BL in its attempt to capture all the Pokemon Avengers BL Boys.

3) Wu

Since I've been watching High School Frenemy through my dash, I know plenty of people will be ecstatic to see Nani and Sky play soulmates, again (because High School Fremeny is gay af!), but I'm showing up because I got the red bracelets of destiny tying the boys together!

The trailers this year were surprisingly lax on the colors, so I'm taking what I can get how I get it. Bring me the RED STRING OF FATE!

4) MU-TE-LUV

This is Club Sapan Fine with a different name so it's going to be campy and messy. But do I think GMMTV will handle fems well? No. Am I pressed about it? Also, no. Because I actually watch AND enjoy Club Sapan Fine, so if GMMTV wants to try its hand at wild wacky camp in an anthology-style series, I'm down to clown, at least for the queer episodes that is.

5) Melody of Secrets

This was originally going to be number three on my Tops List, but as the trailer continued, I got more confused. Then, Force's face blurred and it looked like he got snatched by a demon, so I got scared. Like real scared. I don't eff with los espookys, so I'll be watching this show with the lights on and my Care Bear squad to protect me.

Honorable Mentions

I watch ALL GMMTV queer shows (and even the ones that only I think are queer), so I'll still enjoy something about these shows, but they were just lacking that special razzle dazzle:

Burnout Syndrome

Director Nuchy. Gun in black lipstick. Gun being a sex worker. Off being an asshole. Thor. Poly(?). This should have been my Holy Grail, but I can't believe the show will give me a proper love conflict when OffGun are a branded pair. Also, Nuchy gave me ToddBlack, who I will NEVER be over, so even though I know she can and will give me *THE* toxic couple to root for above all other toxicitos, unless these two are about to drown each other in that bathtub and play Olympic-levels of mind games with each other, I'm reserving my excitement until it airs.

Me and Thee

A soap-opera loving mafioso. Pond in suits with slicked-back hair. Phuwin being beautiful. Santa looking delicious. Est back in his Naughty Babe assistant mode. Perth. COLORS! Just like Burnout Syndrome, on paper it looks like something I would devour, but a third of that trailer was Pond and Phuwin in a bathtub, and in my Michelle Visage voice, "stop relying on that body" even if that's the biggest reason I'll be showing up to watch.

Whale Store

Milk licked cat food off of Love's finger, and I fear this might be too lesbian for me. I don't kink shame, and I'm always down to eat a girl out go down, but cat food? Really, sis? On top of that, this felt like a JittiRain series with Love's character clearly hiding something that is going to hurt Milk's character, then the side couple was crying and making everything awkward. I support the lesbians. I support queer rights AND wrongs. I'll be repeating this even as I'm watching it.

Boys in Love

GMMTV was smart putting all the new kids in a show with Papang x Podd as the little older romance crumbs to keep us satisfied for the time being, but that's also why I'm being petty. If this is the stepping stone for Papang and Podd to be leads for GMMTV 2026, then I'll take what I can get, but I feel like Oliver Twist asking for more porridge, when I should already be getting a damn buffet!

Love You Teacher

This show almost had me in the first half. Sam's character was giving me everything. The premise was solid. Perth was an already gay man in a long-term relationship with his boyfriend. Things were going well even with the accident. Then, the show brought on the real plot --- seven-year-olds. Jesús Cristo. It was a lovely time up until then, and now, just like the cat food, I'm realizing new things about myself and my boundaries on a random Tuesday morning, and I don't like it.

Girl Rules

This is the female version of Only Friends saran wrapped in women's empowerment. No me gusta pero lo voy a ver because I support queer wrongs even when they are oh-so-very wrong.

The Love of Siam: The Musical

What. The. Fuck. But also, sign me up!

Dishonorable Mention - Only Friends 2: Dream On

I've reached new heights in my pettiness because this show is in Petty Prison before it even airs. My blog is a living record of how badly I wanted Minx Mix and Flirty Fluke in the first season of Only Friends. It was the only thing I could think about; then, I ended up hating the first season, so I counted my blessings that Minx Mix only showed up for two whole seconds and Flirty Fluke was nowhere in sight. And now this has happened. This is a lesson in "be careful what you wish for" because I have never been more upset that I finally got what I wanted. Unless the show gives Boston his cake and lets him eat it to, I'm not watching it. Not Minx Mix, Flirty Fluke, or Ohm's body could convince me to do this a second time.

[bucksboobs]

I wish BoB's could take a second and look at episodes objectively, like without the Tommy of it all. Because, watching Confessions as a fan of all the characters, was just bad. It sucked. Eddie didn't get any character growth, Maddie was doing some weird hidden pregnancy thing for some reason, they had a fucking Glee speech, Maddie made a homophobic "joke", I could go on. Like, take the shipping goggles off for a second and realize you (generally speaking), in fact, did not get what you wanted.

I’m so mad their pregnancy was unplanned again. It makes way more narrative sense for them to come to the conclusion they want more kids together without having the situation essentially forced on them.

And yeah the Eddie thing started out strong! He acknowledged his mistakes to Father Brian!!! He said what happened! And then Fr Brian is like “you should do something frivolous.” And that’s it? No follow up? Is he going to actually work on acknowledging to Chris what happened? Has he talked about The Incident with Chris at all the past three months? Is he really going to settle for going to El Paso and being a witness to his son’s life? Obviously I think the answer is supposed to be “wait and see” but there’s been so little movement on him actually acknowledging the root cause of his actions, which is the grief he has for Shannon. Do you know how easy it would be for them to have him talk to the Real Shannon (i.e. her grave)? They’ve already shown that location before! They were at the graveyard this season! Talking to Shannon’s grave about missing out on Chris’s childhood would be so much more impactful than Brad being the reason that makes Eddie decides to leave.

And the Glee speech wouldn’t be so bad if it was actually leading somewhere you know? They take pains to explain why Tommy had a comphet relationship with Abby using Glee as a metaphor for social progress and that would have been great if it lead to anything positive for Tommy like an “i love you” for instance but because it doesn’t actually let Tommy have something nice despite his past mistakes born of fear, it instead comes off as the hand of the writers reaching down to jerk off Ryan Murphy, which isn’t a good look when the show is a Ryan Murphy Production.

And everyone has said it but the fact “how many men did she turn gay?” Was the perfect set up for Buck to say he’s bisexual is just so indicative of this season’s inability to follow through on anything. You’re telling me Buck wouldn’t say “well I’m bi actually” instead of that round about “I kissed a boy” thing? Hell he could have said both things and it would have flowed better. “Well first of all I’m bi and she was gone long before I ever kissed a boy.” *cue Josh*

[loucifersbitch]

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard 💚 i've been working on this eddietommy fic oneshot the last couple days, so that's what you get today lmao

"Tommy, I can't - I can't talk to Buck about this because -," Tommy could see Eddie physically steel himself, "- because he's part of it."

"He's part of- oh," Tommy figured out what Eddie meant as he was starting to ask. "So you - you have feelings for him?" It's fine, Tommy tells himself. It feels like a punch to the kidneys, but it's fine. Good, even. Yeah, it's good.

"Well, um, no? Or maybe yes? I don't know, Tommy, I don't - why don't I - why can't I understand? What am I feeling? Why is this -"

"Whoa, take a breath," Tommy said, holding Eddie by his biceps as he started to panic. "Here, c'mon, sit down." He pulled Eddie over to the bench and forced Eddie to sit, shoving his water into his trembling hands.

"Thanks, and s-sorry. Again," Eddie apologized, taking a few small sips. "It shouldn't be this difficult, right? I should know if I have feelings for someone. Especially - especially a -"

"A man?" Tommy offered.

Eddie looked up at him through his lashes for a moment before glancing away again and nodding. He huffed a laugh that sounded self-deprecating. "I shouldn't be talking to you about this either."

"Why's that?" Tommy knew why. Some bro-code bullshit about not dating friend's exes, but it's different when you're queer. He just wanted to hear Eddie say it so he could tell him that and reassure him that it's fine.

Because it definitely is fine.

"Uh," Eddie laughed uncomfortably, rubbing his neck again, "it's hard to explain. I should've figured myself out a little more before I even brought it up."

"Eddie," Tommy sat next to him, knocked their knees together and leaned forward to catch his eye, "you can tell me. Whatever it is. I won't be - I don't know - mad or anything."

Eddie looked at him then. Really looked at him, as if he were searching for something. Tommy tried to keep his face relaxed and open, hoping Eddie would understand that he meant what he said. Then Eddie's eyes dipped down for a split second, and Tommy didn't realize what was happening until Eddie's mouth was on his.

tagging

@powersuitup @plotdevicetommy @talktonytome @swiftiefirefighters @half-oz-eddie

@reyesranch @mmso-notlikethat @rdng1230 @buckhastwohands @crashthatcopter

@carrythatwayt @firehose118 @ohithankyou @loufuckers @bucksbignaturals

@loulovingho @beefcakekinard @theweewooshow @bucktommyscones @sunglassesmish

@lavenderleahy @evansbuck-ley @louisferrignojr @theotherbuckley

[rosewaterandivy]

you’re a dream to me (steve’s version)

a continuation of this blurb

pairing: s.h x f!reader

themes: smut mdni, “they were roommates,” shame surrounding sex/orgasm, casual intimacy, heavy petting, fingering, light praise kink, squirting

Steve didn’t get a wink of sleep that night.

You, however, woke refreshed and in a brighter mood. Hopped off the couch without some much as a “good morning,” and padded over to the kitchen to start the coffee maker.

He’d tossed and turned in vain for another hour or so, until the din of “hushed” voices was too much to ignore.

The couch sags as someone takes a seat on the edge, boxing in his legs underneath the blanket. Turning from a perfectly comfortable position on his stomach, shirt tucked up to his chest, Steve wakes to the scent of cinnamon and coffee.

“Hey sleepyhead,” You greet with a smile, “Made a fresh batch just how you like it.” Only to place the cup in your grasp on the coffee table in front of him, just out of his reach.

“Rude,” He rasps sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “Have you seen my—”

You place the glasses in his lap before he can finish asking the question. He mumbles his thanks and puts them on, running a hand through his wild hair.

“The kids and girls are making their rounds in the old neighborhood. I’m hanging back to do some stuff around here.”

He takes a sip of coffee and nods along.

Steve’s supposed to do the typical holiday check-in with his parents, but really has no interest in it. Christmas isn’t far off, he could just put it off until then. Besides, it’s not like they’d do anything but a tension filled lunch at the club where his mother will ask when he’ll finally settle down and his father will remind him that it’s past time to get serious about his future.

He mulls it over while drinking his coffee. Half-watching you mosey around the house starting laundry, writing a grocery list, opening the windows to let in the brisk autumn breeze.

It’s Sunday. On Sundays you do chores, pick up the groceries for the week, spend approximately two hours in the bathroom doing god knows what only to come out nearly a new woman, and order take out from the good Thai place just off-campus.

Steve leaves you to your routine, making a pit-stop to find the cordless phone and leave a message for his parents.

“Hey, it’s me. Something came up and I can’t make it. I guess I’ll see you at the Christmas Eve party. Okay, bye.”

He places the phone back in the cradle to charge and walks back to his room. He didn’t exactly leave it pristine, but it’s essentially an unmitigated disaster now. Whatever hell Dustin and Mike had wrought, they would be paying for in spades.

Sheets don’t knot themselves up, he knows that much for sure. And yeah, Will and Lucas were in here too, but they had far too much sense for whatever this chaos is.

There’s a soft knock on the door. He turns to find you leaning against the jamb wearing a familiar Stop Making Sense tour shirt.

Steve can’t even bring himself to be mad. You flash him a smile and say, “I’m running out to the store. D’you need anything?”

“Nah, I’m good honey.”

“Okay,” You fiddle with the strap of your tote bag on your shoulder. “The washer should be free soon, I just have to move my stuff once I’m back.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He says stepping closer, “I can flip your stuff.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Thanks Steve. I’ll be back soon!” You say with a turn toward the door and toe on your sneakers. With a brief wave, the door shuts behind you and Steve, for the first time in a long time, is left to his own devices.

Not that he takes advantage of it, of course.

He showers, lets the phone ring and machine pick it up, eats something vaguely decent (though the expiration date is questionable), and flips your laundry only to begin his own.

Piling his laundry into the washer and eyeballing an appropriate amount of detergent, he hears you call out a greeting as the front door opens.

You’re weighted down with paper bags and trip twice from the entry way to the kitchen. Steve takes the bags from you without much fuss, sets them down on the counter how you like and sorts out the pantry versus refrigerator goods.

There’s a garbled sound from the answering machine as you press the play button in the living room. He continues to put the groceries away, not paying much mind to whomever had called.

You slide in on socked feet nearly careening into him.

“Shit, sorry!”

This you say directly to his sternum, face plastered to his chest. You can feel his laughter as he says, “S’fine sugar. No harm, no foul.”

Steve’s hands grip your forearms, warm and wide, as he sets you back to rights. He gets a good look at you— freshly washed hair, bare faced, and already in your comfies. He notes the distinct lack of voices in the house. Then, he gets an idea.

“Who was on the machine?”

“Oh, just the kids and the girls.” You say, filling a glass of water. “They’ll be at the ‘rents tonight. Something about giving us our space back.”

“Huh.”

“I mean, they’ll be back tomorrow night. You know they can never last long confined to their childhood bedrooms and loving parental advice.”

Steve considers this information.

“Do ya want me to wash your sheets?” You offer, “I think Dustin may have just passed out in his clothes last night, shoes and all.”

All it takes is a nod from him and then you’re trotting off down the hall. You come back with a smile, sheets miraculously free of knots, and disappear into the laundry room humming a tune from the radio.

The night passes unceremoniously, unfolding in its typical fashion of ordering way too much food and then watching the Twin Peaks episode from last week that you’d taped.

Steve finds himself in a familiar place— arm around your waist, snuggled on the sofa, a blanket draped over you both. He can smell that lotion or perfume you only wear on Sundays, clean and fresh like sheets drying on a clothesline.

“Hey, um,” He begins, trepidation rattling in his voice. “Don’t get mad, but are you okay?”

He can feel as you tense in his arms.

“M’fine Steve. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, you just said something last night and it got me worried is all.”

You heave a sigh, turning from the tv to face him. Your lips are drawn in a tight line, brow furrowed.

“Just forget I said anything.”

He worries his thumb along your jaw. Eyes tracing along your face— the fading freckles from the summer heat smattered across your nose, the high color of your cheeks.

“I don’t think I should,” He says carefully, “It doesn’t sound like something anyone who cared about you would dream of saying.”

He lets the words land. Watches as realization flashes across your features. Wonders why you’d let something so baselessly wrong bother you so much.

“I mean, they’re not exactly wrong.”

Steve cringes at the thought.

“I’m not like, the easiest person to deal with in that respect.”

“How d’you mean?”

He draws you closer, hand falling to the small of your back.

You bite your lip, eyes flitting to and fro.

“Sex, Steve, I mean sex.”

His mouth falls open in an oh of recognition.

“Apparently, it takes a lot of work for me to come and even when I do, it’s a mess.”

Steve tries to school his expression into one less shocking. Who the fuck would say something like that to you? What is wrong with people?!

“To add insult to injury,” You say with a snort, “I haven’t been able to come for weeks. It’s beginning to be quite the issue.”

Huh. So that explains why you flew off the handle at trivia night the other day. He knew it couldn’t have been over not knowing something as innocuous as which mountain range separates Europe and Asia?

You’re squirming in his grasp and he can tell you’d like nothing more than to turn around and pretend this conversation never even happened.

But the thing about Steve is, he’s like a dog with a bone. And unbeknownst to you, you are the bone in this scenario.

Before you can pull away, he grounds you with an arm to the waist. In response, you raise a delicate brow.

And ah, fuck here he goes.

“I could, uh,” He swallows audibly, “Help with that, if you want.”

Your immediate instinct is to roll your eyes and laugh, let slip a sardonic sure, Steve.

And you can’t help the huff of a laugh that escapes as you say, “Offer that service to all you gal pals?”

“N-no. I - don’t. Just—”

The you is left unspoken but it hooks at something in your chest and pulls. Leaves you jittery and… wanting.

“Okay,” you say with an inelegant shimmy onto your back. “Show me your moves, Harrington.”

Shocked still, Steve doesn’t know where to begin. You’ve maneuvered your back against his chest, head resting on his shoulder and hips slotted beneath his. Your legs splay open, the hem of his shirt falling just above your black briefs.

His heart rattles in his chest, and he’s sure you can feel its frantic pace. He scooches back a bit, separating his hips from the swell of your ass, and sits you up.

The vantage point is better, he rationalizes, he can see what he’s doing here. At his movement, you grab the hem of his shirt and peel it off your body, the image of David Byrne’s big suit landing in a heap at the foot of the couch.

“You can touch me, y’know.”

And yeah, he definitely wants to. Stripped down to your basics, black on black and nothing fancy, Steve’s mouth begins to water. It’s so surreal— he never thought you’d actually take him up on his insane offer. Much less so willingly.

“Y-yeah, okay.”

Your warm back settles against his chest once more. His hands trail the notches of your neck as you turn your head.

“Can you do me a favor though, and just like, talk to me?”

He swallows, desire carving a searing path through his chest.

“Course, sugar.”

And then there’s the hot press of his mouth against your jaw, and the scent of him rushes into your shared space and has your groaning softly. Fresh citrus from his body wash tanged with something that’s ineffably Steve.

His entire body shudders against yours. His hips lurch into the sliver of space between you as he breathes brokenly, “Holy shit.” And you can’t help but agree.

Steve’s fingers end up buried between your legs. Hand wedged into the impossible space between your clenching thighs. His opposite hand splayed against the soft curve of your abdomen, holding you in place and pressing you down into the cushions.

He’s talked you through it all, gentle murmurs and slurred words, the nip of his teeth at your throat. Told you how pretty you were, how good, his mouth smearing hot and wet against your skin.

And how he’d worked you up with his soft, lingering touch. Fingers trailing along sensitive skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. How he’d eased the straps down your shoulders, circled your nipples over the fabric and teased them to peaks before letting the black fabric pool at your waist.

There’s a slow drag of words from his throat when his hand brushes the band of your briefs.

“Y’ready, honey?”

All you can manage is a nod, chin clearly thumping against your chest as his fingers dip beneath the fabric to slowly drag through your soft curls. The point of his nose traces a line against the column of your throat, breath hot and seeping while you’re positively leaking through the fabric.

Shifting your hips in desperation, his fingers slip lower and barely brush against your clit. It draws a deep whine from your chest as you reach back in desperation to find his hair and pull.

“Fu-ck.”

Steve’s hips buck against the fat of your ass, his hand pressing down against your pelvis, the pad of his finger petting delicately at the seam of your sex.

“So good like this,” he says raggedly, thumb alighting on your clit with a smear of slick as you gasp. “I know, I know,” he soothes, as your mind drips into something syrupy and slow.

His clever finger slips inside, punching the breath from your lungs. Your head turns to the side, pleasure loosening your bones and burning like an inferno. But Steve never lets up, even as he’s breathing heavy, eyes half-lidded and staring back at you.

His cheeks are flushed pink as he murmurs and mutters, words long lost to you now as heat cracks through you like a live wire, coaxed gently along by Steve’s careful ministrations.

“— want you, please,” you babble incoherently. Already fucked stupid, buoyed by the senseless desire he draws from you like water.

A lewd squelching noise as two of his thick fingers sink into you, causing your voice to break, “Want your cock— inside, oh fuck.” Your eyes roll back in your head at the deep press of them, cunt clenching as they slide against your walls.

His thumb brushes your clit, a firm press as he buries his fingers deep and presses down with his opposite hand, hot and searing on your skin.

“Wanted you for so long,” he groans, urging your hips forward in his fingers buried to the hilt. “Jus’ like this.” He murmurs something else into the hollow of your throat, something lost to time and space.

You’re shivering and throbbing and rocking downwards onto his hand as his fingers continue to ignite your pleasure. His touch searing like a brand as he continues to press against you, until your voice breaks on a moan.

“Yeah,” you breathe, head lolling against his chest, fingers loosely gripping his damp hair. “Right there, oh fuck, Steve —”

You make a mess of him as he draws your desire up, up, up. As it peaks, your back bows and strangled shout falls from your lips, moisture rushing from you. Soaking his fingers and hand, your thighs, the couch cushions, fucking Christ.

“Imsorryimsorryimsorry,” you whimper, fingers clutching tight in his hair.

And all he makes is a deep sound of satisfaction, hips stuttering against your ass. A dark rumble from the confines of his chest, and you look up to see his eyes molten gold and heavy lidded, a smile breaking across his face.

The last of your release shudders through you, his fingers slipping slowly from your sex, petting in soothing strokes and easing you from your pleasure. But still, there’s a keen ache making you clench and flutter around nothing.

Forcing your fingers to loosen from his hair, you let them graze his temple, his cheek heated and damp beneath your skin.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, catching your breath as your eyes flutter closed. Pushing hair from your face, you find your brow slick with sweat. Steve, without a care, whispers a kiss to your brow and huffs a laugh.

“How did you get so good at that?”

Can’t even be bothered to turn back, you roll your head on his chest catching an inelegant shrug of his shoulder.

“Mmm,” you murmur, content to be splayed against him. “I owe you one, pal. Jus’ gimme a minute…”

Steve sighs softly, letting his fingers tangle in your hair as your breathing evens out in sleep. Eventually, he’ll rally and heft you back to your room and clean sheets.

And eventually, though who can say when, he’ll screw his courage to the sticking place and cash in that I.O.U.

[bunnysdollette]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁ start acting your age and not your shoe size love 👟✨

⟢ hey my wonderful angels! here are a few tips to start building maturity and stop doing little girl activities. this is your wake up call. the faster you realize this, the better

(also love this photo of brina)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ GET SERIOUS ABOUT YOUR GOALS

in this life I would say there’s about a 5% of people that actually become successful and fulfilled. which one do you want to be; the person who is happy and living comfortably years from now or the person that chose to follow what everyone else was doing like a sheep and ignored what they wanted to accomplish?

NO goal is too difficult. NO dream is too big. Muhammad Ali once said, ``If your dreams don't scare you, they aren't big enough.'' So get serious about what you want in life or be left behind in the dust.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ STRIVE TO BE AN INDIVIDUAL

It’s OKAY to be different. Our differences are what make us unique and capable of what the next person can’t. Your strengths and your weaknesses will both push you forward in life if you learn how to use them properly.

You have to strive to take pride in your differences and be confident when people challenge your identity. Because at the end of the day the only person that knows YOU best is YOU. When you develop that confidence and self-assured mindset that nobody can tell you who you are because you already do, NOBODY can take that away from you.

Stop following the rest of the flock. If there’s something you dream about or want to accomplish that’s outside of the norm, that’s where your purpose probably lies. If you are a person different from the collective, you are meant for bigger things.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LEARN WHEN AND HOW YOU SHOULD RESPOND

there’s a time and place for everything. I’m not saying you shouldn’t respond to disrespect, because that makes it like other people can do the same to you and you won’t do anything, but depending on the severity of the situation, sometimes it’s just better to ignore that shit.

if there are people you know who are partaking in these little kid activities like making up silly lies about you, trying to get you to fight them or argue with them, DO NOT feed into that.

They will call you scared, stupid, or whatever else, but that’s all because they’re mad they can’t get that reaction out of you. If someone is trying to take you off of your path, the last thing you should do is spend even an ounce of energy on them.

Your energy is sacred. Use it wisely.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ STAY FOCUSED ON WHAT MATTERS

one of my favorite quotes ever is “it is what it is”. Whoever came up with that quote was extremely wise because it’s the exact embodiment of staying focused and not worrying about little kid shit that nobody will remember in the next five years.

What is Important to you? Drama, trying to conform, chasing things that aren’t meant for you, or reaching your goals, achieving success, and achieving fulfillment?

YOUR values should dictate YOUR life. You can’t say you want to become “that girl” and “level up your life” then turn around and invest so much energy in unnecessary shit that serves you no purpose.

And don’t think I’m saying this with any level of elitism or like I’m better because I’m saying this, I’m not. We all have shit to work on. But some of you have a lot more work to do than others and a lot more work to do to stay on the right path. This is your sign. Stop that nonsense