#dennis wanting to keep it private and not real | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

incognit0slut · 4 months

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Since hearing Streets by Doja cat (silhouette remix) I always thought if I ever had the chance to striptease for someone, that would definitely need to be the song playing in the background, the rhythm is so sensual. So can I request a smut with Spencer centered around this song?

Love your blog and tiktok edits, and congrats for reaching 3k! You deserve it!

tysm lovely hope you enjoy this🫶 (wc) 3.1k!

warnings: (MINORS DNI!) Reader is a stripper, lap dance, pantyjob, a lot of grinding lol

Play our fantasies

The FBI agent visiting your workplace wants more from you than answers to his questions.

…we play our fantasies out in real life ways…

"THE FBI IS WAITING FOR YOU," your boss said the moment you stepped down from the stage, his voice a low murmur amidst the pulsating beats of the club. Your clients varied from politicians to well-known celebrities, but you never had the chance to entertain an authority before.

Your boss rolled his eyes as he gripped your arm, navigating you to the VIP lounge. "He's not here for that."

"Oh?"

"He's here to ask some questions," Teddy explained as he released his hold, motioning you to follow him. "Said he wanted to know about one of your regulars."

"My regulars? Who?"

He gave you a sideway glance as you both strode to the back area of the club. "Dennis."

You raised an eyebrow. "Dennis Meade?" You asked. "That lawyer? He hasn't even been here for over a month."

Your boss shrugged. "Maybe that's why the FBI is looking for him, only god knows where he is."

"It's always those quiet ones, huh?" You jested, your heels clacking on the marble floor. You stopped for a moment when you passed a wall that was covered with mirrors, fixing your hair through the reflection. When your boss noticed he was walking alone, he turned around and gave you a disapproved look.

"He's only here to ask you questions."

"I know." You smiled, delicately smearing off the subtle lipstick mark that had smudged over your lip line from the dance routine you performed on the pole earlier. Satisfied with how you looked, you made your way back to Teddy.

"Is he cute?" You asked playfully.

"Y/n."

"I thought we weren't supposed to use our real names on the clock."

He sighed, the ambient lighting casting a soft glow on his exasperated expression as you both continued to walk down the hallway, the distant thump of music reverberating through the walls.

"Angel," he pressed sarcastically, emphasizing your stage name. "Doctor Spencer Reid is keeping his identity discreet, so don't attract any attention to him."

"Doctor?" You mused. "Thought he was a cop."

"FBI agent," he corrected.

"Tomato, Tomahto." You finally stopped at the entrance of the VIP area, a line of doors covered in drapes separating each private space. "Which one is he in?"

"Corner left at the end." He gave you a pointed look. "It's better to stay with him according to your usual private session, lessen any suspicion."

You smirked. Spending half an hour in a room with an authority sounded intriguing. Teddy rolled his eyes as he saw the look you gave him. "No funny business, Angel."

"Of course not, Teddy," you assured him, giving him the most innocent smile you could muster.

He shook his head and took a step back. "You're trouble."

With a playful wink, you pushed open the door to the VIP area and stepped into the dimly lit space. The ambiance shifted from the bustling energy of the club to a more intimate setting. The smell of burning wax filled your nose in the form of vanilla-scented candles as you made your way to the corner suite.

A man stood in the middle of the room, his scrutinizing eyes scanning the small platform in the corner with a pole planted on top of it, but as he heard your footsteps, he turned around and met your gaze.

Your eyes slowly assessed him. His features were sharp, his gaze piercing, and an air of confidence surrounded him. There was something magnetic about his presence, an unexpected allure that contradicted the stereotypical image of an FBI agent. You were never this close to an FBI agent before, but were they supposed to be this attractive?

As the door closed behind you, the muffled sounds of the club outside were replaced by a peculiar intimacy. Especially when his eyes roamed your body, taking in the lingerie top barely covering your breasts and the thin silk panties you chose to wear today.

"You must be Angel," he greeted, watching you intently. The dim light accentuated the subtle nuances of his expression.

"And you must be Doctor Spencer Reid," you replied, injecting a subtle hint of playfulness into your tone. "What brings the FBI to our humble abode?"

"Spencer, please." His lips then curved into a faint smile. "I'm here on official business. There's a matter I'd like to discuss with you."

"About Dennis Meade, I presume?"

His eyebrows raised slightly, acknowledging your astuteness. "You're well-informed."

"It's part of the job," you responded with a casual shrug. You took a moment to assess the situation before nodding towards the plush seating. "You should take a seat, Dr. Reid."

He did as he was told, but his eyes went wide when he noticed you stepping onto the platform instead of following him. "What are you doing?"

"I was told you didn't want your identity to be known," you said as you gripped the pole. "There are cameras everywhere; I'd say it would seem suspicious for the security to see I'm only talking when I should be working."

He watched as you started to move around the pole, your movements deliberate and gracefully controlled. The ambient lighting cast a subtle glow, creating a surreal atmosphere within the room. The pulsating music from the club outside, its tune slow and seductive, provided an unexpected rhythm in the closed space.

"This way, it seems like just another part of the show," you continued as you swayed your hips seductively. "Now, what did you want to discuss about Dennis?"

Spencer's gaze followed your every move and you watched as his tongue flickered along his bottom lips. "We believe he might be involved in something that requires our attention."

You leaned back, arching your back in a sultry pose. "Dennis hasn't been around here for a while. Why the sudden interest?"

"It's not the first time he's come under our radar," Spencer explained, his tone measured. "We're trying to locate him to gather more information."

"I can't say I know much about him," you replied. "There wasn't anything particularly noteworthy about him, at least not that I'm aware of."

Spencer absorbed the information, his expression thoughtful. But it was hard to keep his mind on the case he was supposed to be investigating when your moves became more daring as you leaned down, actuating your luscious hips that were barely covered with that thin string of fabric covering your sex. Then his mouth dried up as you turned around in front of him and fully bent over, exposing the delicious curve of your ass.

He tried to steady his breathing. "Any peculiar behavior… conversations, or associations you might recall might help."

You twirled around the pole again, a moment of contemplation before you spoke. "He kept to himself mostly. No unusual conversations that stood out. As for associations, he didn't seem to have any close ties with the regulars here. Just a quiet guy who enjoyed the performances."

"Especially yours?"

"Well, who wouldn't?" you teased, your gaze locking with his. "I do put on quite a show."

You threw your head back as you moved again and god, it was criminally sensual, the way you danced, unlike anything Spencer had ever seen before. He couldn't put into words the allure you possessed. When you ran a hand over your skin, dipping into every curve, he was unable to hold back any longer, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

"It seems that way," he murmured, his voice dangerously low as he leaned back in his seat.

His jaw then slacked open, heavy breaths being ragged out as he got a better look at you when you started to approach him. Your hair shone under the lights, red-painted lips ghosting upon your lips as you straddled his lap. You leaned into him, placing a knee on each side of his thigh to press into the thick, leather chair.

"Is this also part of the show?" he softly asked.

You chuckled, the sound low and sultry, matching the tempo of the music. "Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't." The palm of your hands slid over his arms, sending warmth along his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. "Depends on what you want it to be, Dr. Reid."

You swore you could see his muscles tense when your fingers glided over his shoulder, and with a sharp inhale, his head fell against the seating. He was even more handsome up close. He had soft skin, a sharp jaw covered with a soft stubble, and brown-colored eyes that shone underneath the fluorescent lights.

His breath caught as you moved in closer, the distance between you diminishing rapidly. The proximity between you two grew more intense, and his initial purpose of discussing the case became a distant memory.

Your lips hovered close to his ear as you whispered, "Do you want me to continue?"

Spencer's mind raced as he struggled to maintain composure. The unexpected turn of events left him breathless, his professional facade gradually giving way to your seduction. It was as if his fantasies were playing out right before his eyes. Having you perched on his lap, the intimate proximity, the charged atmosphere—all of it seemed to align with his imagination.

Then a low, almost invisible, "Yes," escaped his lips.

The single word carried a weight that hung in the air as if the room itself was holding its breath. It was enough of an answer as you slowly lowered your hips. Your thighs parted for him, and you pressed your center against him, letting out a low gasp when you felt how hard he already was.

It shouldn't have surprised you, after all, it was the usual reaction to every man you had to entertain. Maybe it was the unfamiliar setting that had you growing hot; to be on someone's lap who was a high authority, someone who was here for work, someone who wasn't even paying for your time. Yet you couldn't help it, especially when his hands found your hips, urging you to move.

You obeyed, beginning to press your aching cunt against his bulge, rocking your hips softly back and forth. As you do, your silk panties slid over his pants, earning a hiss from his parted lips. You couldn't help but smirk as your palms pressed to his shoulders, offering stability as your hips rolled against his body.

You felt the warmth flooding between your thighs as you grind your folds against him, earning a few twitches of his hips in return. You would normally call in security if any of your clients touched you inappropriately. The club patrons could touch, but there was a policy of grabbing, holding, or leaving marks.

And what Spencer was doing surpassed all the rules. One, he wasn't even a client, and two, you would be in trouble if you were caught enjoying this. Your job was to entertain people, not be entertained. Yet you were far too gone to think of the consequences. The fear of getting caught still weighed on your mind, but with your throbbing clit pressing to him as you rode him, the worries diminished faster than they could build.

You couldn’t deny the bliss that filled your body. Grinding against him had you lost in the moment, legs beginning to quiver as his fingers pressed into your hips harder, head falling back, curses pouring from his lips. His nails began to press to your flesh and it should have inflicted you pain, but instead, you were even more drawn to him that you reached for his belt.

"May I?" You whispered, eyes locking with his. He wasn't sure it was the wisest idea to submit to whatever plan you had in mind, but he found himself nodding, and a few moments later you were already busy undoing his pants.

Your fingers hook into the band of his briefs next, urging the fabric down with assistance from him as his hardened cock spring free. He bit down on his bottom lip, anticipating your every move a second before your fingers wrapped around his girth. Slipping your grip to his swollen, reddened tip, a hiss spilled from his parted lips, and then your palm slid back down his length as his hips pushed forward into your grasp.

"That—" He struggled to say, too focused on the way you dragged your palm up and down his length. "That feels good."

This earned you a smile. He felt thick and warm in your grip and your eyes instantly took in the sight; of his hard cock pulsing in your hand, of his brow creasing as you continued your movements. You watched as his tongue swiped over his lips again when your other hand reached for your panties, slipping the silk to the side, enough to ease his cock between your folds before adjusting the fabric back in its place.

You both let out a gasp at the feeling of him pressed to your flesh, trapped by the tight fabric holding him in place. You nearly lost your mind just as he did the moment you began to rock your hips once again. Juices dripping from your center made it effortless to slip back and forth over his cock, and with your arousal coating his flesh on the underside, and your silk panties caressing him on the other, he couldn't hold back any longer.

He held you in place as his hips met yours frantically. God, you were such a dream; Spencer couldn't believe this was happening. You were such a fantasy. Every moan escaping your lips seemed to cast a spell that held him captive. It was wrong of him to fully enjoy this, yet he couldn't help but be mesmerized by you.

The way you moved along his throbbing cock was such a sight to see. Or the way your head fell back as you satisfied yourself, your jaw slacking as you looked at him through hooded eyes. Your soft whimpers begin to flood his ears, and it urged him to give you more as he told you how fucking good you felt, how fucking wet you were, and how fucking beautiful you looked, even with your hair sticking onto your face from all the sweat.

Fingers brushed loose strands of hair from your eyes and it took so much of your self-control not to kiss him. Kissing your clients was another one of the policies, and it was something you shouldn't even consider of breaking, so instead you focused on the growing heat that stretched along your core.

Your hips increased their pace, rolling against him to offer the both of you relief, your clit swelling with a need for release as you felt his cock pulsing between your wet folds.

Your thighs began to shake around him, giving him the courage to pump his hips a few times, catching you off guard. Gasping, you arched your back, continuing to move your hips over his, using him to find release as his cock rested between your folds and the fabric of your silk panties. You felt yourself growing hot, needy, aroused, dripping along his length, making the sensation all the more electrifying.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, your entire body trembling. “I-I’m gonna come.”

“Come,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “Come on my cock, Angel. Let me feel you.”

His words sent a rush of electricity through your body, out to every tingling limb and curled toe, and there was nothing you could do but lose the last shred of control you were holding onto. Your moans poured from your lips louder than before, but you had a hard time caring as the bliss swelled within you.

You called out his name, again and again between desperate whimpers and gasps, thighs tightening around him as you rode out your orgasm, not slowing your pace until the wave washed over you.

When you relaxed against him, he took hold of your body, wrapping his arms around you as he began to thrust from below, fucking himself between your soaked folds and silk panties. After a few moments, you grew completely weak, allowing him to take control, allowing him to hold onto you, allowing him to use you to get off until the moment a sharp inhale filled your ears.

Thick ropes of white spilled from the hem of your panties, soaking through the fabric and coating your flesh. His breath stalled for a moment before he released another exhale, head falling back as his hips attempted to keep thrusting, yet he lost all momentum as the pleasure took hold of him.

You sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, surprised by the way his hands brush delicately over your hips, skimming across your lower back in a soothing motion. "What time do you get off tonight?"

You met his gaze. "Late, as usual," you replied, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "Why do you ask?"

Spencer hesitated for a moment before answering, his hands still tracing soothing patterns on your back.

"I was thinking... maybe we could continue this later," he admitted, his voice a low murmur. "In a more private setting."

You raised your eyebrows. "Is that part of the investigation, Dr. Reid?"

"It could be," A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Or maybe I'm far from done with you."

“Oh?” Thoroughly amused, you hummed. "Is that so?"

He nodded and looked at you through half-lidded eyes. "Tell me what time you get off."

It wasn't a question anymore; it was a demand, and a shiver ran down your spine.

God, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to taste him, no, you needed to taste him. You had never craved someone as much as you did now. Maybe it was the unmistakable glint in his eye or the way he spoke to you then that had you caving in, or maybe it was the thought of his cock buried deep inside your cunt that your answer slipped off your tongue without much thought.

It was too easy for you to tell him what time your shift ended when all you wanted was for him to fuck you senselessly.

"I finish at two," you quickly responded.

Spencer's half-lidded eyes seemed to darken, his features betraying a hunger that mirrored your own desires. "Meet me at the back exit at two, then."

A coy smile played on your lips as you met his intense gaze. Honestly, you would let him fuck you right there and then, but you had to be patient. Time couldn't move faster than you wished.

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landhoehoehoe · 2 years

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monaco blues - Marcus Armstrong

At first I think I have to apologize to whoever asked for the Dennis fic because I have decided to put it on ice for a while until I actually like what I'm writing again, sorry for that :(

Here's a lil Marcus fic, including smut, unprotected sex (pls don't do that in real life!) and fluff :)

Marcus Armstrong x reader; As Marcus returns to Monaco for the F2 race he keeps an eye out for a certain someone who had made his previous visit an unforgettable experience

You had had sex multiple times that night: The night you should have regretted immediately afterwards.

But how could you possibly regret a night in which you had had multiple orgasms without having to fake it once, though?

Why should you have regretted it anyways?

Maybe because the guy you had hooked up with was none other than Marcus Armstrong, as you had only found out the next morning.

Your social media had already been overflowing: someone had spotted Marcus leaving the club in Monte Carlo with you in his arm.

The caption had made you stop in your tracks:

“Spotted: Marcus Armstrong leaving the Royal Club in Monte Carlo with mystery girl #5 on his arm… seems like the Kiwi is really enjoying his holidays ;)”

Seeing that post on Instagram had given you enough reason to regret the whole night, sneaking out of his hotel room as quiet and fast as possible.

After that shocking revelation it came as no surprise that you were enraged.

First: He had lied to you about who he was.

Second: You hated being another number on his list.

Another girl he had successfully seduced into pleasuring him. So obviously all that rage quickly focused on him, keeping him in your mind for weeks to come even though all you wanted to do was forget about him. Him. Marcus Armstrong.

Kiwi F2 driver, not an ordinary engineer like he had told you.

The man who had you a moaning mess beneath him the whole night.

Often times you’d dream of him… of his hands on your body, his lips in all the right places and his damn raspy voice.

It had made you furious that your were somehow still constantly reminded of his existence when you were so determined to delete him from your memory forever.

As time passed though, you found yourself thinking about that night less frequently, finally managing to banish Marcus into the darkest depths of your mind.

Weeks and months flew by, you were buried deep in your studies and barely had any time or piece of mind to spare for him.

Your primary rage had finally died down, being able to cope with all the Formula 2 pages on Instagram still tagging you in Marcus-related photos.

Thankfully your account had been set to private from the beginning so no one could actually see your photos and you had had the great joy of declining Marcus’ follow request the morning after.

So things were looking up for you again, especially since you had just taken your last exam before summer break in May.

You were on your way back home on your bike, riding through the streets of Monaco with your bag over your shoulder and the biggest smile on your face when suddenly you had to stop.

The road was closed.

You frowned, before asking the man standing behind the barrier what was going on.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but you cannot go through here. Tomorrow’s the first day of the Monaco Grand Prix. Important people will be coming and going constantly.”, he shrugged with an apologetic smile.

You sighed.

It was just your luck: Having to take an alternative route around the paddock area which would take you an additional ten minutes.

And that was when you saw it: A huge truck with the Formula 2 logo on it passing the barrier.

No. It couldn’t be.

“Excuse me, sir. Is Formula 2 racing here this weekend as well?”

Your heart dropped when the man nodded.

If Formula 2 was here, he was here too.

Suddenly there was a weird sour taste on your tongue, the huge smile from earlier wiped off your face just like that.

Today was supposed to be such a good day but instead you were slapped in the face by something Marcus-related yet again.

Great.

You thanked the man behind the barrier and took the alternative route, not able to stop your mind from already making up the wildest scenarios of possible ways of meeting Marcus again.

Under no circumstances did you want to see him again, no matter how good the sex had been. You could feel the anger building up inside you again just reliving the morning after.

Finding out he had been lying to you, exposing you to the media without you knowing.

So the decision was clear: This next weekend would be spent at home, only occasionally leaving your apartment to go get food. Because you knew just how easy it was running into someone in the small streets of Monte Carlo, so you would not take the risk of encountering him.

However, your best friend had other plans.

That same evening she would not stop talking you into going out with her.

Of course, all of your friends had taken their last exam today, too, so there was a good reason to celebrate.

You had also wanted nothing more but to go out again after having spent many many evenings studying at home. But that was before you had found out Marcus was in the same town as you again.

Somehow your best friend still managed to drag you to the club, though. The night was spent always keeping a watchful eye out for a certain Kiwi, but you were in luck.

Everything went smoothly and you actually allowed yourself to have fun again.

Only then did you realize how stupid your fear of meeting Marcus had been. You shouldn’t have to be afraid of meeting him, in fact it should be the other way around.

Because if you ever saw him again so help you god would you give him a piece of your mind. And it would not be pretty.

So thanks to your new mindset and confidence you found yourself in the club once again on Sunday night after the Monaco Grand Prix.

You were already a few drinks deep, dancing with your girl friends in the middle of the club, the alcohol taking away any shame you might have felt when grinding your hips against your best friend’s.

She let her hands wander over your body seductively, from your short top over the white skirt you had thrown on.

It looked hot, no question in that, but what you didn’t know at that point was that he was watching.

Marcus had been watching you the whole time, from when you’d first stepped into the club to now. Of course he had hoped to see you again, after waking up to an empty bed a few months ago.

At first he had been confused as to why you had left without saying anything, then it had dawned on him what had happened and he immediately cursed himself for being so stupid to think lying to you would be a good idea.

Sadly, one look at his phone had confirmed his worries.

Although it was helpful that the internet had so quickly found your Instagram account, it had been a slap in the face when you had declined his follow request.

There had been some horrible headlines out there and he had wanted nothing more than to explain everything to you.

Yes, he had been hooking up with different girls almost every night during that trip but that had immediately stopped after your night together.

Because the moment he had laid eyes on you he knew he was done for.

Everything about you was perfect, leaving him with the want for more.

He wanted all of you, not just the amazing sex.

But it had been too late and so Marcus had been left with his own memories of that night, replaying it over and over in his mind.

So naturally you were all he could focus on when he realized you were in the same club as him, dancing only a few meters away from him, having the time of your life.

You looked hotter than ever, unholy thoughts racing in his mind immediately.

His weekend had been one of his best ones in Formula 2 so far so his mood had been good already, but seeing you really was the icing on the cake.

He just had to wait for the right moment to finally talk to you… and maybe have another drink to boost his confidence. Because he had no idea how to approach you.

You were so unpredictable, Marcus couldn’t for the life of him read you.

“Mate, check out Clem, he’s wasted!”, Felipe exclaimed, throwing his arm around Marcus, pulling Marcus’ attention away from you momentarily.

An amused smile found its way onto Marcus’ face as he watched Felipe run over to Clem to hand him another drink.

Felipe really was a nightmare friend to party with, Marcus had understood that fairly quickly.

With a grin still on his face, Marcus turned his head back to you, searching for a white skirt in the crowd…. And his face dropped.

Your white skirt was no longer pushed up against the girl you had been dancing with but another guy’s hand was snaked around your waist, your back turned towards Marcus.

He could feel the jealousy bubbling up almost immediately until he noticed that your arms were indeed not around the guy’s neck.

Instead, you were awkwardly trying to wriggle yourself out of his grip. Relief flushed through Marcus, but the stranger did not get your message, bringing you closer to him again.

That was it.

Marcus downed his own drink, making his way across the dance floor to where you were standing.

His hands found their way around your waist, the movement feeling so natural to him.

“Having fun, babe?”

Both you and the other guy looked at him with equal confusion, both your eyes widening at the same time as the two of you recognized him.

“You’re…”, the guy muttered, immediately letting go of you. Marcus squeezed your waist, hoping to relax you.

“Marcus Armstrong, yes. If you’d please stop harassing my girlfriend that would be very kind of you.”, Marcus gave the stranger a friendly but deadly smile, making him turn around to quickly disappear after a quick apology.

As soon as the guy was gone you pulled Marcus’ arms off your hips, turning around with a displeased look on your face. Yes, you were thankful the other guy was gone but you did not like the guy standing in front of you now either.

“Since when am I your girlfriend, huh?”, you scoffed, crossing your arms.

“Since other guys are touching you.”, Marcus responded taken aback.

“Well goodbye then, babe.”, you gave him a fake smile before turning around to disappear into the crowd.

However he reacted quickly, grabbing your arm to spin you around once again.

“Wait! Can we at least talk?”

You let out a sarcastic laugh.

“About what? The fact that you lied to me or the fact that the whole world knows I slept with you?”

Marcus knew you were right.

“I’m sorry. I truly am. I just panicked when I first saw you because you looked so fucking gorgeous and I didn’t want to fuck it up…”, he stammered, talking fast because he didn’t know how much longer you’d still talk to him.

“But you did. You fucked up everything, Marcus.”, you sounded hurt and Marcus hated that he was the reason for it.

“I know…I never meant for any of it to happen, I swear, but…this is me asking you for a second chance. Please.”, he looked down at his hand on your arm, then back at you.

You didn’t know what to say, your brain not functioning properly anymore from the alcohol.

All you knew was that you definitely didn’t hate him even though every part of you wanted you to hate him.

And you should… but you didn’t.

“You lied to me.”, you took a step towards him, looking into his eyes.

“Thanks to you I still get messages from random people on the internet on a daily basis.”, another step towards him.

You were now close enough to feel his hot breath as he looked down at you, not daring to break the eye contact. “Thanks to you my standards are so fucking high when it comes to sex.”, your drunken mind took over as your hand came up to his chest, feeling his heart beating almost as fast as your own did.

Neither of you knew what was going to happen next, yet you both knew exactly where you’d end up this night.

“I fucking hate you.”, both your hands now rested against his chest, still keeping the eye contact. Marcus gulped audibly.

“And I hate that I still want you.”

Then you stood on your tiptoes, your hands finding his neck to pull him down to finally connect your lips. Marcus didn’t need much time to adjust, his hands naturally finding your waist again, pulling you into him tightly.

When his tongue slipped into your mouth you unfortunately had to admit how much you had missed this feeling of absolute electricity and excitement flowing through your body.

A feeling only Marcus’ touch could evoke.

Your hands started playing with his hair while his hands found your ass, occasionally slipping under the skirt, making you moan into his mouth.

Marcus could feel himself getting hard within seconds, which wasn’t a surprise to him seeing as he’d pleasured himself many times thinking of you in the past couple of months.

“You wanna go somewhere else?”, you whispered into the kiss, Marcus nodding immediately.

You pulled apart and he looked at you again with…adoration in his eyes?

Then he took your hand in his, leading you out of the club, where a lot of people where currently waiting for taxis to arrive.

As you waited for your taxi in the cold, away from any curious eyes, you let go of his hand to hug yourself, spending you some warmth. Monaco at night could be freezing, especially when you were only in a short top and skirt.

Marcus noticed your shivering, but didn’t have a jacket to offer you since he’d only come in his shirt.

“Come here, you’re freezing.”, he pulled you close to him, encasing you in his arms delicately. Your hands rested against his chest as you looked up at him.

Only then did you realize that it was going to hurt like hell, leaving him tomorrow, knowing he would forget about you soon enough.

“What are you thinking about?”, he smirked, giving you a peck to the lips.

Quickly you shook off your sadness and intrusive thoughts because you didn’t want to show your vulnerability, shaking your head.

“Nothing..it’s just cold.”, you forced a smile on your face before burying your head in his chest to avoid his gaze. Marcus knew something was off by the tone of your voice and the half smile you had put on, he just couldn’t pinpoint it, which is why he decided to let it go.

If you wanted to tell him, eventually you would.

Then Marcus got a text.

“Our taxi isn’t going to be here for another thirty minutes, they’ve blocked some roads.”, he groaned, letting his head fall back. You chewed on your lip, looking back up at him.

“We could go to my place..”, you suggested shyly, catching his attention.

Obviously he hadn’t considered that option yet.

“It’s only a five minute walk from here.”, you added, watching as he contemplated the option.

Then he nodded, letting you take the lead while he intertwined your fingers again.

On your way to the apartment the tension and anticipation almost became unbearable so it came as no surprise that Marcus had you pushed up against the nearest wall, kissing you deeply as soon as you had closed the door behind him.

You moaned as he pressed himself against you, feeling his erection against your core.

Your hands toyed with his hair, pulling slightly at his roots as he moved from your lips to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses everywhere.

He sucked and bit at your neck, making you writhe under his touch while his hands roamed your body, coming to a hold at your ass.

He had so desperately been craving to touch you for the past months, he felt like an addict.

First he lifted one of your legs around his waist, gripping your thigh as if you were his own personal drug: not able to get enough of you, of your body. “Jump.”, he whispered into your ear, his free hand already on its way to your other thigh. When you wrapped both your legs around him, he pushed you into the wall even further to hoist you up properly.

His face was now at the perfect height to attack your cleavage, kissing and sucking his way to your nipples.

“Marcus..”, you moaned, your mind already hazy.

He responded by finally reaching his hand under your skirt, pushing your underwear aside quickly.

Your hips bucked into him at his touch, making him smirk against your skin because he knew he had full control over you.

“Already so wet for me?”, he asked, cockily leaning his head back to look at you. You rolled your eyes.

“Just shut up and touch me.”, you pulled his head towards you again, connecting your lips to a fiery kiss. However, he decided to tease you a little while longer, letting his digits ghost over your clit.

“What’s the magic word, darling?”, he smirked once again, enjoying your frustrated expression. You weren’t going to give in to his dominance play though. At least not yet.

“If you won’t touch me I can gladly touch myself.”, you replied, trying to free yourself from his grip.

Marcus was quick to tighten his grip though, giving you a challenging look as he pressed you against the wall harder.

“We both know it wouldn’t be the same though.”, he started peppering your neck with kisses, your body reacting to his touch automatically, arching your back towards him even though you didn’t want to.

You could feel him smile against the crook of your neck, so you pulled his hair back rather harshly, forcing him to lean his head back with a groan.

As you kept him from kissing you it was now your turn to smirk at him.

“Fine. No touching means no kissing then.”

Marcus scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“You know you can be a fucking brat sometimes.”

To this you only smiled, knowing you had him right where you wanted because you noticed his gaze wandering in-between your tits and eyes again, hungry for your skin.

“Are you gonna touch me then?”, you asked impatiently, batting your eyelashes at him innocently all while stilling having a grip on his hair, keeping him at a safe distance.

You thought he was about to give in, lose this battle, but you had been wrong.

Instead of finally pushing his fingers inside you, he placed you back down, letting go of your hips. Confused, you went to say something but were quickly cut off by him grabbing your hips, turning you around to push your front to the wall, his cock now pressing against your ass.

However, you couldn’t help but smile.

You liked it when Marcus gave you the control but you loved his dominant side even more.

Of course Marcus didn’t miss your smile either, letting out a small laugh.

“That’s what I thought.”

As you weren’t really in a position to touch him yourself, your only option was grinding against his cock as best as you could.

Marcus let out a heavy breath which didn’t go unnoticed by you.

His hand wrapped around your hair, holding you in place as his other hand wandered up your ass under your skirt.

He flipped the skirt up, exposing your ass to him so that he could lay a sharp slap to your ass, making you gasp.

“That’s for not following orders, darling.”, he tsked, soothing the spot with his hand.

“Look so good for me tonight.”, he groaned, taking in the view of your half naked ass.

“Only for you..”, you hoped to get him to touch you again.

Unimpressed, Marcus let out a raspy laugh.

“No shit, this pussy is mine.”, suddenly his hand came around your waist to cup your pussy, making your hips buck into his hand. “Please, Marcus..”, you moaned, throwing all of your previous intentions out of the window to finally beg for him.

“Please what? Use your words, love.”, Marcus had a cocky smirk plastered on his face again, knowing he’d won this round.

You rolled your eyes but decided to surrender, being too desperate for his touch.

“Please touch me, Marcus. Need your fingers inside me.”

That was all it took to have Marcus’ fingers pull your slip aside, this time wasting no time in entering you.

You pressed your ass even further against his cock at the sensation, making him grow even harder.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”, he asked with a smug look on his face, moving his fingers faster inside you while his hand that was in your hair came around to cup your chin.

He turned your face to look back at him, giving you a sloppy kiss of appreciation.

Then his hand went to massage your clit, pulling another loud moan from you.

“Not sure how much longer I can last…”, you gasped, feeling the familiar knot tighten in your stomach. Marcus sped up his fingers just until your head fell back onto his shoulder: The sign that you were about to cum.

So he pulled his fingers out of you quickly, leaving you frustrated and empty.

“Marcus..”, you cried out immediately, a tear falling from your eye over the ruined orgasm.

But Marcus only rolled his eyes.

“Will you stop whining?”, he retorted in a rather annoyed voice, pulling down your skirt and panties as well as his own pants.

You waited in anticipation as Marcus stroked his rock hard cock before he let it glide through your folds.

He pushed you back against the wall, his free hand around your neck. Your legs wanted to give out from the sensation of the ruined orgasm still looming over you, but Marcus held you in place firmly.

Even now he couldn’t stop the teasing though: not entering you yet, even though he saw your pleading face, his own dick twitching in his hand.

He let his cock swipe through your folds again, gathering all your wetness before finally pushing into you.

The moan you let out as he entered you was a sound Marcus would replay often times when he’d pleasure himself in the future.

For a moment he stilled his movements, giving you enough time to adjust. “Ready?”, as he kissed the spot beneath your ear you shivered, nodding eagerly.

“Want you to fuck-”, you replied, the rest of your sentence being lost in a moan because he started thrusting into you at a steady fast pace.

Your mouth hang wide open, feeling him grab your ass tightly, guiding your hips towards his cock while he pounded into you.

“Oh fuck.”, he hissed when you clenched around him, his hand coming up to your neck to pull your back against him.

The new angle had him hitting all the right spots inside you, making your legs shake.

“You like that?”, he smirked, applying light pressure to your neck.

However your brain wasn’t exactly able to form sentences right now so you didn’t answer, giving him a moan instead. But that didn’t satisfy Marcus.

He squeezed your neck harder, his other hand finding your clit while he kept his relentless pace.

“Answer me.”, he growled into your ear, a squeal escaping your lips as he pressed his fingers against your clit.

“Yes. Fuck yes!”, you exclaimed as he filled you up completely, pushing you further against the wall again as he stilled his movements inside you.

“That’s my girl.”, he smiled contently, continuing thrusting into you again.

He had you right where he wanted and you both knew it.

“Now be a good girl and cum all over my cock, yeah?”, his fingers played with your clit, feeling your walls tighten around his cock once again in response.

You couldn’t see it but he was truly struggling not to cum before you because the feeling of you around his cock was a feeling like no other.

So he sped his fingers up, rubbing circles on your clit whilst your legs almost gave out under you.

He noticed you struggling to stand on your own quickly, his hand that had grabbed your neck now finding its way back to your hip, holding you in place.

“Wish you could see yourself right now: Taking my cock so well, such a slut for me.”, he grunted, knowing his words were all you needed to send you over the edge.

And he was right: A string of curse words fell from your mouth before he felt you clenching around him, riding out your high.

It took everything in him not to cum inside you right then when you were milking his cock so good, but tonight he wanted your mouth.

Wanted to see you on your knees for him.

When he felt you coming down from your high, he pulled out of you, turning you around to him. You already knew what he wanted, giving him a lazy kiss before getting on your knees.

His cock was painfully hard and dripping from your own wetness. Quickly you sucked him clean, tasting your own juices.

Then you started to take him into your mouth fully, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. Marcus’ hands gripped your hair, holding it back into a makeshift ponytail as he threw his head back at the feeling of your lips around his cock.

It was the most incredible feeling and a feeling Marcus didn’t ever want to miss again.

He looked back down at you, giving him the best head of his life all while looking so fucking beautiful.

“That’s it, darling.”, he praised, his dick twitching in your mouth as you moaned around him.

“Gonna fuck your face, yeah?”, he waited until you nodded before he started moving his hips to hit the very back of your throat with his tip.

Even though tears were falling from your eyes and your were already gagging you held on to his thighs, knowing this was all he needed to cum.

And just as you had predicted, he came only moments later, you swallowing his cum without hesitation.

“Fuck, baby…”, he cursed, running a hand through his hair.

When he came down from his high, he pulled you back up on your feet, holding your waist tightly because he knew your legs were still shaking.

He sent you a beaming, fucked out smile before kissing you in the softest way possible.

No dominance play, no lip biting, only his soft lips on yours and his hands around your waist. It made you melt right into his touch, leaning against him as your hands held on to his neck.

You squealed when he suddenly picked you up, wrapping your legs around his torso automatically.

With your help, he managed to navigate around your apartment and eventually find your bedroom to lay you down on your bed.

Just seeing the hungry look he gave you as he towered over you was enough to make you horny again, knowing exactly this wouldn’t be the last time you’d be screaming his name tonight.

The sun shone through your half-closed blinds, making you blink.

In your half asleep state you replayed yesterday’s events, mentally preparing yourself to wake up to an empty bed.

It would hurt like a bitch, that was for sure.

But you couldn’t really blame Marcus for leaving, because you had done the exact same thing to him.

And besides, you guys weren’t even together so he really had no reason to spend more time with you than necessary.

It wasn’t until you heard a deep grumbling sound behind you that you noticed the arm draped around your waist, pulling you close towards Marcus’ chest.

He had stayed?

Confused, you turned around in his arms to look at him.

He had been sleeping before, but thanks to your sudden movement he started blinking, too, until he could open his eyes fully.

“Good morning.”, he smiled when he saw you looking at him.

You worked your brain overtime but still didn’t understand the reasoning behind Marcus still laying here with you.

“Why are you still here?”

That was about all you could say at the moment.

Yesterday you had been so sure that this was going to be another one night stand with ties being cut between the two of you again the next morning.

Marcus’ smile dropped, an insecure look on his face now.

“Should I leave?”, he asked, a trace of disappointment in his voice, which confused you even more.

“No, don’t!”, quickly your hand came up to cup his face.

“I mean…er…you can leave.. if you want to.”, you added, just as insecure as Marcus, beginning to take your hand off his face again.

But Marcus held your hand in place, kissing the inside of your hand.

“No, no. I don’t want to..If that’s ok with you..”

You couldn’t help but laugh, making Marcus frown in confusion.

“My god, we really are stupid, aren’t we?”, your laughter made Marcus’ frown turn into a wide smile again.

He pulled you even closer into him, connecting your lips to a kiss.

And it just felt so right that you knew you couldn’t let him go. Not today, not ever again.

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badnew2005 · 11 months

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i feel like all i’m talking ab this season is dennis and running away and how he’s finally emotionally returned from north dakota he’s trying so hard to stop running and be stationary BUT !!! it keeps shining through like dennis struggles to improve his mental health a season long arc IS REAL !!!!!! there are a thousand billion ways to read dennis as johnny but i can’t stop thinking about dennis using the johnny caricature the mask to explore and experiment with that part of himself that kept him running.

ireland dennis obsessed with authenticity bringing it to such a fake degree. obsessed with authenticity of the specific situation he is in rather than his general every day life. he’s still running away. wins the big game message when you embrace who you are then you win then life is good and enjoyable BUT HE MISSED IT !!!!! he was in north dakota !!!!!!!!! he was running and hiding. ireland when you love someone you never ever leave them behind realisation and acceptance he doesn’t need to keep running. reaching that conclusion a couple of years later than the gang, later than mac, as he always is one to do.

we’re like half way through the season and he’s been TRYING. trying so hard to be good and happy and not get riled up over small things. he’s trying to be stationary and be happy with who he is BUT ITS HARD !!!! it’s itching and raw! another season theme i’ve predicted is the cat poking his head out of the wall. it’s all happening as johnny. exploring who he is and who he can be, rather than the person he’s spent years thinking he Should be (seen with maureen and mandy). everything about him he’s kept private hidden down deep he’s using johnny to be public with. and macs just a boy in love !!!!! fuck !!!!! mac being in love with johnny confirmation that he is likeable, LOVEABLE even. that part of dennis he hates so so much he’s so terrified of letting loose. it won’t be the end of the world. restructuring his view of himself. he’s old and tried and can’t keep running, he doesn’t Want to keep running, BUT ITS HARD !!!! it’s so much harder than he ever thought it could be (and he Knew it would be difficult and painful that’s what kept him running! because running away was easier and comfier than facing reality ……. clip show i’m ALWAYS thinking about you!)

he’s ran away from mac before because he could see through him but now ??? mac can’t see it’s him. even against screaming proof mac won’t accept that he’s johnny. from macs pov there’s anger, anger that he can’t feel because he can’t confront dennis so he stays in denial. and dennis is angry with himself too, there’s plenty of self hatred behind using the mask of johnny. he’s spent years pushing mac away screaming at him to move on…. but dennis won’t let go he won’t physically let mac move on. everything i’ve ever loved has claw marks on. he’s clinging onto everything so desperately (clip show & chokes IM THINKIHG OF YOUUUUU) but can’t communicate what he actually wants. he can’t admit it to himself first and foremost there’s no way he’s saying out loud point blank to mac. who could go and Tell Everyone. he hates himself for loving mac for not being able to let go. he hates himself for running away and pushing and biting and then crawling back begging on his knees to go back in time.

he hates that mac came out and it changed everything and he hates that he can’t do the same. mac can’t confront dennis about his anger out of fear he’s going to run again, but ALL DENNIS WANTS is that confrontation. he Wants to be forced to be dragged screaming and kicking out of the closet like mac was. he doesn’t want to be brave and have to take that massive leap by himself. it’s too big too far !!!! he’s spent years making sure nobody suspects him or dares says anything. he was ready to suffocate in that wall. why should he have to follow that second cat out of the darkness why can’t the bird pull him out anymore (because he mauled and killed the bird. severed any chance of anyone else helping him out of the closet.)

why does he have to do it all himself now. everyone else begged mac to come out, they all knew for mac, why can’t they do the same for him. obviously they’re Not going to ! once upon a time he made sure they never ever will !!!!!!! it’s again dennis and communication, wanting everything “to go back to normal” to go back to how it was for everyone to forget what he said and did but they can’t. and they won’t. crawling back home takes time and effort and a lot more than opening the front door. you have to rebuild the foundations and structure too. the cat has made the wall his home, destroying dees apartment to keep himself safe, hidden and enclosed in the wall. he can’t change his mind one day and want to get pulled out without explicitly saying something, making amends.

#he’s johnny !!!!!!! he’s always BEEN johnny !!!!!!!!!#mac refusing to see dennis as johnny THERES A THOUSAND LAYERS TO THIS HES NOT STUPID !!!!!! ITS A DIFFICULT PAINFUL SITUATION !#anyways fall out boy played ginasfs for the first time LIVE yesterday as this episode came out something shifted #i KNOW they coordinated it for me #frank vs russia #north dakota #idk my own tagging care logos for dennis running away i need to find something #s16 #iasip spoilers #dennis reynolds #macs denial is ALSO reminding me of north dakota again like he’s not really gone etc

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denniisa · 8 months

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#DENNIIS an independent, selective, and mutuals only roleplay blog for dennis reynolds from fx's it's always sunny in philadelphia. written by landis ( it/it's & he/him/his, 27, cst ). you must read my full carrd before interacting.

❝ D as in "deliver me from this". E as in "engage with human". N as in "nightmare". N as in "nightmare". I as in "is this real !?". S as in "somebody help me". ❞

this blog will cover heavy topics ( e.g. alcoholism, depression, anxiety, childhood trauma, manipulative behavior, eating disorders ). this blog will also contain explicit content. for these reasons, this blog is 18+.

❝ just you and me fighting the good fight against a broken system engineered to drive us both so crazy that we have to take days off for our mental health !! ❞

inbox, 81. drafts, 3. starters owed, 12.

mobile friendly rules under the cut.

this blog is selective & private. in order for me to be comfortable writing here on tumblr i realized i need to curate my space. i will only interact with blogs that i am *mutually* following. please do not take it personally if i do not follow you back. usually i do not follow back because i cannot see our muses interacting. if i find that you are not following my guidelines i will either softblock or hardblock you as i see fit. i will not follow your blog back if you do not have some sort of a rules/guidelines page, or at least mun info.

i work a full time job and i have a life outside of rping. this is a hobby for me. *sometimes replies to ic and ooc content will be slow.* please do not rush me for replies. if you do have a concern that i have misplaced a thread, please message me. just do not guilt trip me. reply time will be sporadic as well, given that my inspiration and motivation comes in random bursts.

there will be very mature themes on this blog. this is a trigger warning for mentions of child abuse, sexual assault, substance abuse, alcoholism, parental death, anxiety, depression, and eating disorders. please keep this in mind if you decide to follow this blog, and when you read through dennis' biography. all triggers will be tagged as trigger //. if there is something i am not tagging that you need tagged, please message me! i am happy to adjust as needed.

transphobia, homophobia, racism, bigotry, proshippers (underage smut, incest ships, dubcon/noncon) or any other asshole behavior will not be tolerated. if you ship dennis & dee get the fuck off my blog. anonymous hate will also not be tolerated. if i catch you doing any of these things, you will be hard blocked. if i am writing with someone you have an issue with, or someone that is harmful to the rpc, please let me know privately and not in an anonymous ask. i would like to be able to ask the proper questions i need to privately without posting it on the dash.

dennis is not a good person. i do not want to make excuses for him and excuse his shitty behavior. i will pay attention to dennis' manipulation of others, anger, lying, ect. i will not write any of dennis' *creepy* behavior towards people. this is just a reminder that mun =/= muse. i also write dennis as canon divergent & headcanon based. i add my own little tweaks to his character.

hello everyone, my name is landis! thank you for taking the time to read through all of this. i truly am just a silly little guy trying my best. the best way to start interactions with me is by sending me inbox prompts! so feel free, go off. no such thing as sending me too many.

#pinned post.#updated 10.26.23

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hopeintheashes · 2 years

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@badthingshappenbingo Ambulance Ride square.

800+ words. Angst and Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Hen/Karen and Hen & Chim (and a little bit of Karen & Chim). Post-6x06 "Tomorrow." Read it below or on AO3.

She'd expected it to happen right away.

That the first patient she touched, hands to sternum, the first ribs she broke, would be the ones that broke her.

But then the first call they get, afterward— the first one that might have brought it all flooding back— was an older, larger gentleman whose son-in-law was grimly doing CPR when they arrived, and when Hen took over it just felt like, well, work. And they got him back, and handed him off at the ambulance bay doors, and when Chim put a hand on her shoulder and asked if she was okay, she meant it when she said she was.

And then there were two dozen other types of calls, and weeks of shifts, and Karen was healing at home, coming back to herself, and it was fine. It is fine. She's stopped thinking about it all the time, falling back into the rhythm of the work. If anything, she sometimes thinks about what she'd be doing if she'd stayed on the med school track. And then looks at Karen, or Denny, or any of the team at work, or the patient they're helping, and thinks, nope, this was definitely the way to go.

She's joking with Chim and their patient, a woman their age, about how terrible her luck must be that her first-ever car crash happened on the way to her first post-divorce date. The woman, Rhiannon, is in the middle of saying that her ex-spouse must have cursed her when she breaks off mid-word and looks at Hen with utter confusion and fear.

And then she's down and Hen's shouting for Chim, hands to sternum, and Rhiannon's ribs break with her first compression and her hair is like Karen's and the resistance under her palms is like Karen's and it's both of them at once, a hyperventilating sob, and then Chim says, "Hen!" forceful and sharp and she's back.

And it's work.

And it's not.

She keeps going.

They hand her off at the ambulance bay doors, hospital staff continuing the chest compressions the whole way, and she stares after them and Chim catches her and holds her tight.

She needs to know, and she can't stand to know. Chim goes out of his way to find out, and asks her what she wants, back at the station, in a private corner away from everyone else.

"Tell me," she says, voice shaking, and Chim takes her hand and breaks the news and Hen breaks down in his arms.

"I'm sorry," Chim says, and Hen nods against him and tries to get herself together, and fails. "You should call Karen," he says gently after a while, and Hen sniffles and wipes her eyes and her nose and nods.

She washes her face and drinks a glass of water and takes a deep breath, and makes herself smile when Karen picks up the video call. "Hey, baby."

"Hi." The cuts on her face aren't quite healed. Her voice is gentle, like she already knows. "Howie filled me in."

"Oh," Hen says, and it wavers, and she tries to hold back the tears and fails.

"I'm so sorry, love."

Hen nods, and presses her lips together, and tries to breathe.

"Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want to hear about good things?"

"Good things," Hen manages, swiping at her eyes with the back of her wrist.

"The birds are loving the feeder you put up," Karen says, her eyes flicking to the window next to the couch. "I feel like a cat, watching them all day." She smiles and Hen does as well, through her tears, and Karen gestures off screen. "Mr. Garcia next door has been raking leaves, but every time he gets them into a pile, his dog comes and jumps into it and scatters them all around." Hen laughs; a quick, choked sound, but it's real. "So Mr. Garcia just rakes them up again. I think he likes the game just as much as the dog does." Hen's heartbeat is starting to even out, her shoulders coming down. "And the school just posted pictures from that Reading Buddies thing they do. There's one of Denny with his first-grade buddy. The little kid is reading to him, it's so freaking cute." She pauses, and waits for Hen to meet her eyes through the screen. "We'll call you later. When he gets home. Okay?"

She nods, and swipes her nose with her wrist one last time. "That sounds perfect."

Chim reappears like he'd been waiting just around the corner, which, yeah, he probably had. "There's an inventory checklist with your name on it whenever you're ready."

Hen looks back at Karen through the screen.

"Go organize things. Denny and I will talk to you later." She presses a kiss to her fingers, then her fingers to the camera. "Love you."

"I love you, too." She ends the call and takes a breath, and turns to Chim. "Alright. Let's do it. Inventory, here we come."

#911fic #911 fox #9-1-1 #hurt/comfort #henren #by:hopeintheashes #my bthb fics #fandom: 9-1-1 #trope: ambulance ride #only a few squares left!

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bigsiskiru · 10 months

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Big sister tips #2

I've seen internet grown, from when we didn't had it to smartphone with infinite access to it. I've seen the better add the worst grow. Each my pinch of salt in the ocean.

(sorry for tagging myself into unrelated topic)

Advice to young one :

Especially for minor :

🏵️Do NOT trust people on the internet. Never. Each person is a special case you need to investigate to be a hundred pour cent sure to know them (but you'll never be a 100%, because you'll never know them daily IRL)

🏵️Use a pseudonyme. Never gave personals infos. Don't post picture, especially if you're a minor. I can't stress this enough. And let yourself a limit of 21 years old before doing anything.

🏵️You are someone easily manipulated. There a lot you don't know yet about life, even if you dennied it.

🏵️Don't date online at all, or if you want to do, let someone you trust, someone IRL, know your situation.

🏵️Never meet someone online -> IRL ALONE. Please, it's more common than ever that ped* get minor like that. Way more usual than you think.

🏵️🏵️🏵️It's NOT COOL to date ADULT GUY OR GIRL.

I repeat for the one in the back : it's NOT COOL to date an ADULT if you are a minor.

🏵️If a worst case scenario happen online or IRL, talk to someone you trust, but TALK, trust me you'll regret it if you don't.

It'll be painful, but you'll be out of this situation.

🏵️ Last & important one :

S*xe on the internet is NOT COOL.

Being aroused is normal. S*xe isn't dirty. But until you are 21, keep it private to IRL life with IRL people from YOUR age. Learn from yourself. Put boundaries. Learn to say no. Learn to stop thing you don't like.

Stopping late is better than never stopping.

Doing it with adult isn't cool.

Doing it with large age gaps isn't cool.

Learn yourself first.

Grooming is real.

Please. A lot of people use dating&s*xe because, as adult, they are loosers from which it's the only thing they can have pleasure from. They love control and/or money. They know how to manipulate, and young one are easy pray.

Never think you have the advantage and always be precautious.

#young adult #advice #internet #mental health #fan fiction #fandom #friends #Love #dating #supernatural #video games #facebook #tiktok

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bllsbailey · 1 month

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Whistleblower Claims Michael Avenatti Said Michael Cohen Had Affair With Stormy Daniels Since 2006, Planned Trump Extortion Deal Before 2016 Election

Tony Seruga is a highly regarded X (Twitter) political pundit. Seruga, who has over 78,000 followers, also claims to be an “Intel Ops CIA/NSA Contractor and Whistleblower” in his profile.

Understand, Michael Avenatti is a serial liar, but he did speak about his client (that he would later steal from) and Michael Cohen’s affair touching on their scheme to bilk the Trump Organization out of money. He spoke about it on more than one occasion. He was very passionate…— Tony Seruga (@TonySeruga) March 27, 2024

Seruga has released a report that, if confirmed, would shatter the story surrounding Stormy Daniels and Donald Trump that Biden and the mainstream media have been hanging onto for years.

Tony Seruga alleges that he once shared building space with Michael Avenatti, a convicted felon and former lawyer. Avenatti represented adult star Stormy Daniels in her lawsuit, in which she claimed that then-candidate Donald J. Trump had given her hush money to keep their alleged “affair” private.

“I spoke with Michael Avenatti, who at one time had an office in the same building as one of my businesses in Newport Beach, CA (in November 2018, a few days after his arrest on suspicion of domestic violence, Avenatti’s law firm was evicted from those same offices in Newport Beach after skipping $213,000 worth of rent payments).”

He also described how he and Michael Avenatti, the unscrupulous attorney, first spoke.

“Avenatti was working a long con against Tully’s Coffee and actor Patrick Dempsey. Avenatti Global Baristas, the parent company of the Tully’s coffee chain that was founded by Michael Avenatti, had agreed to never again use the Tully’s name, but Avenatti was lying… He wanted to use my trademark attorney Rod Underhill to take control of the Tully’s Coffee name and trademarks. I learned later it was yet another attempt to extort money from Keurig Green Mountain.”

“In any case, Avenatti shared details of his client Stormy Daniels, whose real name is Stephanie Clifford, case and the fact that her and Michael Cohen were actually having an affair since 2006.”

“The whole hush money scheme was cooked up by Michael Cohen to extort the Trump Organization before the 2016 election. Avenatti seemed pleased at how deviant Michael Cohen was.”

In a follow-up to his initial tweet, Seruga detailed how attorney Michael Avenatti repeatedly boasted about the plot, including sharing it with retired NBA player Dennis Rodman on a Corona Del Mar, California, patio. Dennis Rodman is renowned for his friendship with North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un and his relationship with Madonna, in addition to being a former NBA star.

I spoke with Michael Avenatti who at one time had an office in the same building as one of my businesses in Newport Beach, CA (in November 2018, a few days after his arrest on suspicion of domestic violence, Avenatti's law firm was evicted from those same offices in Newport Beach… pic.twitter.com/MFnmH4NsER— Tony Seruga (@TonySeruga) March 27, 2024

“I would have no problem testifying,” Trump said regarding the Stormy Daniels trial. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

In addition, Trump hinted that he intends to challenge the trial’s April 15th date and expressed doubt about whether a trial will take place after his appeals.

Online users also chimed in with their own thoughts.

“Why would Trump, a germaphobe, dip his stick into such a used up dirty hole? It NEVER made sense, just like the Russian Hooker pee pee story that the DNC created.”

Outlet Gateway Pundit contributed to this article.

This is a developing story. Check back for updates.

Stay informed! Receive breaking news blasts directly to your inbox for free. Subscribe here. https://www.oann.com/alerts

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nurmalaevi · 5 months

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Denny Ja: Explores inspirational stories about struggle and courage

Denny Ja is a figure that inspires many people with his struggle and courage in various fields. From politics to the world of literature, Denny JA has made an unforgettable trail. Let's explore inspirational stories about his life journey full of challenges and courage. Denny JA was born on September 9, 1956 in Jombang, East Java. Since a young age, he has had a great spirit to contribute to advancing the nation and society of Indonesia. Denny JA is a graduate of the Faculty of Medicine, Airlangga University, but his great interest in politics led him to go into a wider world. Denny Ja's political journey began in 1999 when he was elected as a member of the Indonesian House of Representatives (DPR) from the Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle (PDIP) faction. As a member of the Parliament, Denny Ja fought for important issues related to the welfare of the community, education, and the environment. He has an active role in guarding policy making at the national level. In addition to a career in the political world, Denny Ja is also known as a productive writer. He has written a lot of essay and essay poems that raise relevant social and political issues. His work is a source of inspiration for many people who want to explore deeper about the dynamics of Indonesian socialpolitics. However, Denny Ja's journey does not always run smoothly. He must face many obstacles and criticisms that come from various parties. However, his courage and determination made him keep fighting for what he believed. Denny Ja understands that in the struggle will never be easy, but he remains persistent in maintaining his establishment and principle. One inspirational story of Denny Ja was when he founded a research institute called the Indonesian Survey Institute (LSI). LSI became a famous research institution in Indonesia and made many significant contributions in analyzing public opinion and political trends. The establishment of LSI is a brave and innovative step from Denny Ja to bring positive changes in the world of Indonesian politics. In addition, Denny Ja is also involved in an effort to fight for freedom of opinion and encourage active participation of society in the democratic process. He often gives lectures, seminars, and public discussions to provide a better understanding of the importance of the rights of democracy and freedom of expression. Not only in the realm of politics and literature, Denny Ja also contributes to the world of education. He is one of the founders of Paramadina University, a private tertiary institution that has given birth to many quality graduates and is committed to advancing Indonesia. Denny Ja is a real example that the struggle and courage are the key to achieving goals and bringing positive changes in society. He has inspired many people with his work and his determination in dealing with various obstacles. The inspirational story about Denny Ja must continue to be immortalized and told as a motivation for the young generation of Indonesia. His courage and enthusiasm in fighting for truth and justice are something that should be appreciated and followed. Denny Ja is an inspirational figure who has made a big contribution to Indonesia in various fields. Through his struggle and courage, he has changed and left an unforgettable trail in history.

Check more: Denny Ja: Explore inspirational kisakisa about the struggle and courage

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atlanticcanada · 1 year

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P.E.I. housing pinch major issue as parties campaign ahead of April 3 vote

A lack of affordable housing on Prince Edward Island has some questioning whether the province is running out of room for those who want to call it home, making dwindling real estate one of the major issues in the upcoming election.

Party leaders campaigning ahead of the April 3 vote have promised to tackle the lack of housing if they form the next government.

A December news release from Statistics Canada said P.E.I.'s rate of retaining immigrants five years after they arrive had jumped to 28 per cent in 2015 from 15.6 per cent in 2010, but it was still the worst among the provinces.

The population began to ramp up in 2015 but there was a dip in housing construction just before that, said Jim Sentance, an economics professor at the University of Prince Edward Island.

"New housing starts just dwindled down to a few hundred a year," he said.

A doctor coming into the province might not find it hard to find a house but someone in the lower- or middle-income group would, he said, with the lack of affordable housing a "fairly major issue" in the election.

"I think where the squeeze is on, I would suggest is more at the lower end," he said. "So more affordable housing."

Lack of housing brings with it other problems, such as difficulty in attracting and retaining people and students, said Cory Pater from the group P.E.I. Fight for Affordable Housing.

"A lot of people who come here move away almost immediately," Pater said.

A one-bedroom apartment in Charlottetown costs about $1,200 a month, he said. Rents increased about eight per cent from 2021 to 2022.

Green party Leader Peter Bevan-Baker said the lack of sufficient housing has made it difficult to attract workers in health care, construction and other fields.

He blames a lack of government planning. The reliance on the private sector to build more housing on P.E.I. is "misplaced," he said.

"We should have anticipated this and done something about it," he said in an interview. "We could have done much better when it comes to investing public dollars in building housing."

Sentance suggested the government should ease up a bit on bringing more people into the province until more units can be built.

An August news release from the P.E.I. government said the province's population is expected to grow about 13 per cent at a slow rate or about 41 per cent in a high-growth scenario over the next 20 years. Canada's population is projected to grow between 12 and 37 per cent over the same period.

Sentance said the government could afford to slow down the rate of population growth.

"At some point you have to wonder what's more important, growing the population or fixing the housing problem?"

Pater said he does not think a temporary easing up on immigration into the province would relieve much stress from the housing market because it's a problem that grew slowly and will take time to resolve.

In the short-term, he said the government could buy up housing units, hotels or other buildings to alleviate some of the pressure. His group is advocating for more public and co-operative housing that would keep rents low.

Progressive Conservative Party Leader Dennis King was not available for an interview.

A news release Wednesday from his campaign promised to launch a rent-to-own program that would help people buy a house with government financial options after renting for about two years.

Sharon Cameron, leader of the Liberal party, was also not available for an interview.

Bevan-Baker said a Green government would create a rent registry that would show what the previous tenant was paying and how much is being charged by the landlord when the property is leased out again.

He said rent caps are one way of controlling and regulating the marketplace, but they have to be done in tandem with a registry.

"Housing is both a basic human right and an investment opportunity," he said. "Government has the responsibility to ensure that the rights and needs of the more vulnerable community are properly protected."

This report by The Canadian Press was first published March 17, 2023.

By Hina Alam in Fredericton

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/9Thck82

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

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criticalbennifer · 1 year

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Building a New Ben

Sick of Affleck? Our Five-Point Plan to Revive The World's Most Over-Exposed Actor

By: GQ.com

April 11, 2013 2003

Dear Ben Affleck,

So it's been a rough year. Girl problems. Work problems. Goatee problems.

Buck up, ya big poufy-haired lug! It may look hopeless now, but your career hasn't yet plunged into Jared Leto-ville. You're not waiting for a callback for Beethoven's 5th. Hardly anyone calls you "Casey Affleck's big brother." Paycheck? Don't worry—nobody saw it! Gigli? In theaters an hour and a half. And you're not the first fiancé to eat a $1.2 million pink-diamond engagement ring and a $350,000 Bentley. Tell it to David Gest, brother!

But the truth hurts: People are starting to not like you, Ben. You're polling lower than Dennis Kucinich. You're too chatty, too tan, too everywhere. The other night, we found you on Access Hollywood, Entertainment Tonight, E!, MTV, Animal Planet and the Jakarta Cricket Channel. You're so overexposed, you could walk into the White House with Iraqi WMD's under one arm and Osama bin Laden under the other and the public reaction would be: Not another friggin' Ben Affleck story. By the way, the Mars rover says they're sick of you up there, too (and they hated Daredevil).

We're frustrated because we know you have more to offer, Ben. You've done some good films—Chasing Amy, Shakespeare in Love, Changing Lanes... Pearl Harbor (just seeing if you're still paying attention, bro!). You've got that Oscar for Good Will Hunting. You can be shrewd and funny; you made the unwatchable _Project Greenlight _semiwatchable, and your quotes practically stole Peter Biskind's best-selling book, Down and Dirty Pictures: Miramax, Sundance and the Rise of the Independent Film. (At least you didn't kiss Harvey's big ass. And comparing yourself and Matt Damon to Saturday Night Live's Ambiguously Gay Duo—v. rich!) You _can _be likeable and real; you're not one of those capital-A actor types like Russell Crowe, who is probably still droning on somewhere about how he learned the violin for Master and Commander.

So it's time to get the Affleck act together. Before Byron Allen starts calling—and you answer. Before you're phoning Alec Baldwin for advice ("Kid, dump the Tom Clancy movies—they're never gonna make any money!"). Take our instructions, cut them out, stick them to the Sub-Zero in the Ben-chelor pad and read them every day before your private step aerobics-karate-Tai Chi class.

1. Go Away

Get out of Hollywood. Go someplace quiet and uninteresting. No, not the new John Sayles movie. Stay out of cinema, period. Go someplace the paparazzi won't dream of going. No, not Chris O'Donnell's house. Find someplace where you can think. And then, when you think of a reason you made Reindeer Games, keep thinking. Hard.

2. Shut the Hell Up

Kind of goes hand in hand with no. 1, but we want to make sure. Ben, you like to talk more than a bathroom full of I-bankers on a Friday night. So no more jibber-jabbering on Jay Leno, Conan O'Brien, Pat O'Brien, _Celebrity Poker Showdown _or Dinner for Twelve, or whatever it's called. In fact, stop talking to Jon Favreau for, like, ever. Most important: STOP TALKING TO DIANE SAWYER.

3. Do A Movie No one Expects

This one is tough. The big-ticket actor making the smart indie film is a cliché these days. We kind of cringe when we think of you playing a developmentally disabled person to get some James Lipton brownie points. At the very least, you should make a movie with—how's this?—a script! No more blockbusters, superheroes or sci-fi for eighteen months.

4. Fix the Look

No more baseball caps, and lose the goatee—we told you that four issues ago. And enough with the synthetic tans. You showed up at the Gigli premiere, looking like an overcooked Oompa-Loompa.

5. Find A Nice Girl

We can't fault you for Jennifer Lopez. Not even Carson Kressley would have said no. But you need to find yourself a woman who won't make you run out to the corner store for a Lamborghini. We have a couple of very nice editorial assistants here who'd be more than happy with a few cranberry vodkas and a ticket to the Shins.

We have some other suggestions, Ben. You might want to get fat. Not too fat—but maybe a little roly-poly, enough to punch and impress the Sunday-afternoon football crowd. You might want to speak with an accent. You might want to wear a cape. Finally, we have seven words for you if all else fails: Good Will Hunting II: Gooder and Huntinger.

Ben, we didn't vote you Actor of Our Generation, and Lord knows you didn't ask for this. But we're stuck with each other for a couple of decades, and we may as well make it work. You seem like a good enough guy, and besides, we don't see anyone else on the horizon. Unless Chris O'Donnell's making a John Sayles movie.

Go get 'em, kid!

Love,

Your friends at The Verge

#press/article #2003

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clusterbuck · 3 years

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i want you by my side (so that i never feel alone)

(3.2k, rated T, complete) read it on ao3

Eddie sits in his pew and tries to remind himself that he is in the lord’s house, and that he should really at least make an effort to keep his thoughts respectful.

It’s hard, though, when Buck is at the altar standing up as Maddie’s best man, wearing a suit that should honestly be illegal.

It’s only now, sitting in church trying not to blaspheme, that Eddie realises he’s become desensitised to Buck’s whole… everything. Buck in his firefighter uniform is a lot to take in, but Eddie’s trained himself to look past it. Mostly because he doesn’t ever want to have to explain to Bobby that he missed something on a call because he was distracted by the sight of Buck harnessed up for a rope rescue.

Buck at home—in his apartment or at the Diaz house, they’re practically synonymous anyway—is a whole other matter. Buck in old, faded t-shirts and comfortable sweats, in the LAFD hoodie they’ve been stealing back and forth for so long Eddie isn’t sure whose it was originally. It’s a different kind of intensity, a quiet one that stems from the knowledge that Buck doesn’t let many people see him like that, soft and a little dishevelled on a Saturday morning.

These are incarnations of Buck that Eddie has learned to live with, in the interest of remaining a functional human being capable of doing his job and caring for his son—the only two things on his list of priorities that manage to claw past his highly inconvenient unrequited feelings for his best friend.

But Buck in a suit? This is new, and Eddie’s defences are down. Eddie doesn’t have defences for this. He’s never seen Buck in a suit before.

Maybe he should have made Buck try the suit on at home first, so he could have gotten used to it in private.

Can you get sent to hell for thinking impure thoughts in church? Not that his thoughts are impure, exactly. He’s just thinking about the way the lines of the suit cling to Buck’s figure and highlight his broad shoulders, about the way Buck’s arms strain against the sleeves when he adjusts his cuffs, about the way the starched cotton would feel between his fingers as he unbuttoned Buck’s shirt… Okay, so he might be going to hell.

Eddie shakes his head. This is ridiculous. He’s a grown man, he can pull it together for the duration of a wedding ceremony.

Next to him, Christopher pokes his arm and looks at him curiously. “Dad? Are you okay?” he whispers.

Eddie swallows around the dryness in his throat. “I’m fine, buddy.”

“Why were you shaking your head?”

“I just—uh, forgot something I was supposed to do yesterday,” he whispers back. Forgot to mentally prepare himself for the sight of Buck in formalwear. “Don’t worry about it, just watch the ceremony. Look, I bet Chimney’s about to cry.”

The ceremony is just reaching the vows, and sure enough, as soon as Maddie starts reciting hers Chimney starts tearing up enough that it’s clearly visible to their seats near the back of the church.

This is good. If he focuses on Chimney’s quest to win the title of sappiest man alive, it’ll distract him from the public health hazard that is Buck in that suit.

“Is Chimney okay?” Christopher asks, and Eddie laughs under his breath and wraps an arm around his son.

“Yeah, he’s okay,” Eddie says and ducks down to kiss Christopher’s forehead. “He’s just really happy.”

One of Maddie’s first proclamations about the wedding was that she wanted to do away with any tradition that didn’t make sense to her, and the first thing to go was the separate table for the wedding party.

“Why would we invite all these people just to sit at a separate table all night?” she’d said, and nobody had been able to come up with a counterargument.

Then she’d gone one step further and decided to forego seating arrangements altogether. “Assigned seating is for middle schoolers and people who don’t like each other,” she’d said at Eddie’s kitchen table one night as Buck supposedly helped her plan the wedding. His helping mostly consisted of eating wedding cake samples, but Eddie was pretty sure Maddie wasn’t there for the manpower anyway. “And we’re neither of those things, so people can just sit with whoever they want.”

“I’m gonna be a middle schooler in the fall,” Christopher had pointed out, just serious enough that no one had quite known how to react. Then he’d grinned, and the kitchen had exploded into laughter.

“Good thing the wedding is in the summer, then,” Maddie said with a conspiratorial smile. “No assigned seats for you just yet.”

So when they get to the reception venue, instead of being exiled to the high table Buck is by their side almost immediately. Eddie doesn’t know how he does it, but Buck always seems to be able to find them in any crowd, effortless like gravity.

“I vote we find a table and set up camp,” Buck says.

Eddie nods, because Buck and his suit are in very close proximity and he isn’t entirely sure he’s capable of forming words right now.

He really needs to get a grip, or this is about to be a very long night.

“What do you think?” Buck asks Christopher, pointing at a table along one wall. “That one?”

Christopher agrees and they set off, carefully weaving through all of the dearly beloved who have gathered to witness and rejoice in Maddie and Chimney’s marriage.

“I figured you’d want to be by the wall,” Buck says, hanging back so Christopher doesn’t overhear. “You usually are.”

“I—yeah,” Eddie says, a little bewildered. He doesn’t remember ever actually talking to Buck about this. About the way that ever since the shooting, he can’t seem to make himself turn his back on crowds. He sits with his back to the wall whenever he can, and when he can’t—like in a church watching his friends get married—he sits as far back as he can, and glances over his shoulder every three seconds like his head is mounted on a swivel.

He’s never talked to Buck about it, but apparently Buck noticed anyway.

Their table, Eddie discovers, is also close to the open bar. He debates taking generous advantage of this fact in order to deal with the continued proximity of Buck and his suit, but—getting drunk would probably make it worse, actually. Drunk Eddie isn’t very good at filtering his thoughts.

Buck, however, doesn’t seem to have similar qualms, and by the time they’ve gotten through dinner, he’s bright-eyed and a little flushed.

Eddie loves Buck like this, tipsy and giggly and affectionate. He gets the feeling that Buck tries a little too hard to be taken seriously sometimes, but when he’s had a drink or three he lets his defences down.

“You should dance with me,” Buck says now, leaning so far into Eddie that his head is resting on his shoulder.

“It’s not dancing time yet,” Eddie says, fighting to ignore the thrill that runs through him at the idea of dancing with Buck. “There’s still speeches and cake first.” Buck, thankfully, had given his best man speech before any food or drinks were served, so Eddie doesn’t need to worry about Buck getting too drunk for it.

“Later, then,” Buck says, and makes no move to pick himself up off Eddie’s shoulder. “When it’s dancing time.”

“Sure,” Eddie agrees. “Later.” Then he wonders whether he can get out of it somehow, because there are a lot of people around and his self-control is already worn thin by Buck practically draping himself over him.

Buck puts a hand out, fumbling around like he’s looking for something until he finally lands on his wine glass. When Eddie looks down, Buck’s eyes are closed.

“Hey,” Eddie says, poking at Buck until he sits up straight again. “Have you been drinking enough water?”

Buck opens his eyes and squints at him. “I’m not that drunk, you know,” he informs Eddie.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, and touches his nose with alternating forefingers like a field sobriety test. “See? I’m just lazy.” Then he puts his head back on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Okay,” Eddie says, a warm rush of affection running through him. “You wanna do me a favour and drink this water anyway?”

“If you insist,” Buck says with a put-upon sigh, but he grins at Eddie so widely that water almost spills out around the edges of the glass.

It takes almost another hour for it to get to dancing time, and as soon as dancing starts, Buck is whisked away by partner after partner. It’s Maddie first, for the slightly altered tradition of the sister-brother dance, then it’s Hen, and then Chimney wants a turn, too. And Eddie can see why: Buck on the dance floor is joyous and carefree. He looks like he’s having fun, genuinely from the bottom of his heart, and like he’ll spread that joy to anyone who dances with him. It’s no wonder everyone wants a whirl.

Eddie desperately wants one, too, but something stops him every time he tries to get up and walk over to Buck. He’s worried that five seconds of dancing with Buck will give everything away, that everyone around them will be able to see exactly what he feels. That Buck will be able to see. He’s worried that if he dances with Buck he’ll read something into it that isn’t there, and then when Buck turns to the next partner with a grin and a little bow he’ll crush Eddie’s heart under his heel as he goes.

It’s a lot to put on just one dance, but Eddie’s always been good at overthinking.

So he stays at his table. The first time someone tries to get him to join the dancing he makes a vague gesture at Christopher, like the reason he isn’t dancing is that he has to stay and watch his kid. But then Hen and Denny come over to get Christopher to join the kids' dance circle they’ve got going on and Chris goes without a look back, taking Eddie’s only real excuse with him.

He manages to dodge the dancing for almost half an hour until Karen materialises at the end of their table and holds out her hand. It’s not a question so much as it is a declaration of what’s going to happen next. “Come on,” she says. “Can’t have you sitting here looking so gloomy at a wedding, people will start thinking you’re secretly in love with the bride.”

“I’m not—” Eddie starts, and Karen gives him a look that feels like it goes right through him.

“I know,” she says. “Wrong Buckley. Now come on.”

Eddie goes, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

He doesn’t know the song that’s playing, but it’s the kind of easy-listening music that always gets played at weddings, inoffensive and easy to dance to. It’s easy to take Karen’s hand and rest his other hand loosely on her waist, to sway around vaguely in time and in tune with the music.

It’s less easy to look at her after what she’d said, because looking at her means acknowledging it. But he looks anyway, and finds nothing but understanding in her eyes.

“Why don’t you just dance with him?” Karen asks. She doesn’t ask if she’d gotten it right, which Eddie takes to mean that he’s probably not as subtle as he’d hoped.

Eddie doesn’t say anything because he can’t quite put it into words, this certainty that dancing with Buck will be the beginning of the end, somehow. He doesn’t know how to explain that he wants to, more than anything, but the idea terrifies him because it feels too close to a confession for comfort.

“Okay,” Karen says. “What level of crisis are we talking about here? Is this a gay crisis? Or—bi crisis?”

“Bi crisis,” Eddie confirms. “I mean—it’s not that, but if it was. It would be a bi crisis.”

“Copy that. Okay, so what’s the crisis?”

“The crisis is that I’m in love with my best friend, and he’s—not,” Eddie mutters. It strikes him then that he’s never said it out loud before.

“What makes you think that?”

“Wouldn’t he have said something by now?” Eddie asks, and Karen looks at him like he’s a little slow.

“Have you said anything?” she asks.

“I—” Eddie starts, and finds he doesn’t know how to finish his sentence.

Karen smiles. “Just dance with him, Eddie.”

Eddie doesn’t end up dancing with Buck. He keeps trying to talk himself into it, but before he can get all the way there suddenly the banquet hall is emptying out. It’s just him and Buck, now—and Christopher, sleeping in a corner on a pile of spare tablecloths, because he’d insisted he was old enough to stay until the end and proved himself spectacularly wrong.

Buck is going from table to table, making sure none of the guests left anything behind. There’s still music playing—the DJ had gone home an hour ago, but she’d left a playlist on.

Just dance with him, Eddie.

Eddie takes a deep breath. It’s now or never.

Buck looks up when Eddie walks over to him, smiling the soft smile Eddie has only ever seen directed at himself or Christopher.

“Never got that dance,” Eddie says, hoping his voice doesn’t give away the fact that he has spent the past several hours thinking about it.

To his surprise, a blush spreads along Buck’s cheekbones. “No, I guess we didn’t.”

Wouldn’t he have said something by now?

Have you said anything?

There’s a moment where neither of them speaks. Like they’re weighing the options, like they know this isn’t the kind of dancing Buck meant—he’d been talking about a dance floor full of people, safety in numbers, jumping around to something more upbeat.

Then Buck raises an eyebrow and holds out his hand. “You did promise,” he says.

Technically, Eddie thinks, he hadn’t promised. All he’d said was sure. But as he takes Buck’s hand and steps closer, arguing the semantics couldn’t be further from his mind.

Buck is in his shirtsleeves, his jacket long since sacrificed to be Christopher’s blanket. Eddie spreads his fingers along the small of Buck’s back, and his shirt feels exactly like Eddie had imagined back in the church.

The music shifts just as they settle together, going from a soft pop ballad to something closer to a waltz. Buck takes a few halting steps, but it’s clear he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Eddie huffs a soft laugh under his breath. “Here, just follow my lead,” he says. He steers Buck, gentle pressure on his back, and counts steps out loud until Buck gets the hang of it.

Then they’re waltzing around the empty room, and once Eddie stops murmuring one-two-three one-two-three there’s nothing left between them but a couple of inches of air. It feels like nothing, and it feels like the Grand Canyon.

Buck looks up from where he’d been watching Eddie’s feet. “How come you know how to waltz?” he asks, whisper-quiet even though there’s no one else in the room to disturb.

“There are still things you don’t know about me,” Eddie says, equally quiet.

Buck narrows his eyes like he’s going to challenge that, but they’re interrupted by a door clanging open. It’s a teenager in a catering uniform, one Eddie vaguely recognises from throughout the night.

“Uh, sorry,” she says as Buck and Eddie spring apart, looking anywhere but at each other. “Just, we’re about to close up?”

“Sorry,” Buck says. “We’ll get out of your hair.” The girl disappears back through the door, and Buck turns to Eddie. “You get the kid, I’ll get our stuff?”

“Meet you at the car?”

“Race you,” Buck says, and Eddie grins.

Christopher is sleeping soundly enough that he barely stirs when Eddie picks him up, careful to keep him wrapped up in Buck’s jacket. He makes it to the car just as Buck approaches from the other direction, and they work together to get Christopher settled and buckled in without waking him up.

Eddie doesn’t have to ask if Buck is coming home with them. They don’t talk on the drive, mindful of the sleeping child in the back seat, but there’s a tension humming in the air, the feeling of something unfinished and unresolved.

Christopher doesn’t react when Eddie extracts him from the car and carries him to his room. Briefly, Eddie debates whether he should wake Christopher to brush his teeth, but—the kid’s already asleep, and pretty deep, from the sounds of it. Chances are waking him up now would do more harm than missing one night of brushing teeth.

Besides, he doesn’t want to risk Christopher waking up wired and refusing to go back to sleep. He doesn’t know exactly what’s going to happen when he goes back into the living room, back to Buck, but based on the way Buck had been looking at him in the banquet hall before they were interrupted, and the way Buck kept stealing glances at him on the drive home, he’s pretty sure something is.

And he’d thought he’d be nervous, if this day ever came, but all he feels is excitement starting to build somewhere in his stomach.

Buck is waiting for him in the living room, something like determination blazing in his eyes. “Hey,” he says. “Is this one of those things you think I don’t know about you?” He cups Eddie’s face and pulls him in, closer, pressing his entire body along Eddie’s before finally fitting their lips together.

Eddie kisses back instinctively, wrapping his arms around Buck to pull him closer. He feels simultaneously like he’s drowning in Buck and like Buck is his only supply of oxygen; he wants to keep getting closer and closer until he’s crawling inside Buck’s ribcage.

The need for real oxygen pries them apart eventually but they don’t go far, foreheads pressed together and their heavy, panting breaths mingling.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Eddie asks. “If you knew?”

“I didn’t for sure,” Buck says. “Not until today.”

“What about today?”

“I saw the way you looked at me in the suit,” Buck smirks.

Eddie groans.

“Hey, all’s well that ends well,” Buck says, and leans in to kiss him again. Eddie loses track of how long they stand there in the middle of the room, getting to know each other in this new way, exploring with hands and tongues, marking time in hitched breaths and soft sighs.

When Buck eventually starts steering them towards the sofa, Eddie goes willingly. They collapse in a tangle of limbs, and Buck lands mostly on top of Eddie. Buck’s weight presses him down in a delicious way, and Buck’s every movement sends sparks skidding down Eddie’s spine. Buck wastes no time in taking advantage of his new position, shifting his hips against Eddie’s and grinning when Eddie lets out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

“Buck,” he hisses. “I’m—it’s been a while, I’m not gonna last long if—”

But Buck just grins above him. “Who said I’m trying to make it last long right now?” he says, grinding his hips in a slow, deliberate move. “We have the rest of our lives for that.”

#buddie fic #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #this is the buddie at a madney wedding fluff that i have been dreaming of for a month now #no this isn't what i said i'd write in september but the idea materialised in my head fully formed #what was i gonna do #not write it??#shush emma #emma writes

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morizoras-cave · 4 years

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Persistent (Request)

Marvel cast x f!teen!co-star!reader

Genre: angst-ish, fluff

Request Description: Hellooo! Could you write a all the marvel cast men x teen! reader? Like they all go out to eat and hangout at a mall or something and when she goes in the women’s part of a store while they are all on the men’s side, some creepy dude keeps on hitting on her and like after she tries to politely decline his attempts and stuff rdj and the rest are like nuh uh this ain’t happening lol

Warnings: language, hints at smexual stuff, harassment, persistent asshole

(A/N): this story includes anthony mackie, winston duke, sebastian stan, chris evans, robert downey jr and mark ruffalo. im sorry i didnt include alllll of the marvel dudes, but i just find it hard to cram them all into one fic :((( ALSO sorry if the ending is shitty hgssghsgsh

“You don’t have to bring me with you.”

“It’s too late, we’re bringing you.”

“But-”

“Y/n, you are not spending your birthday alone!”

You and Anthony were bickering like always. There was a short break in filming the next marvel movie, and while many people, including you, were planning on going home for the week, Sebastian, Anthony, Winston, Chris and Tom and arranged a ‘guys night out’, if you will.

You were going to enjoy your birthday that day with your family, but a couple of days before your family had cancelled, because of exams and overloading work. They promised you’d celebrate some other day, but you were still bummed out.

Anyway, Anthony had somehow reluctantly made you admit that you were celebrating alone, and had decided to instead drag you with him and the guys to their ‘night out’.

“I don’t wanna come and just be a bother to everyone,” you mumbled. Anthony sighed and looked at you. He then diverted his eyes back to the road.

“You’re not bothering anyone, N/n.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to cancel your plans to the strip club or whatever you were gonna do!” You stressed. Anthony gasped like a TV mean girl.

“Did you really think we were gonna go to a strip club? Y/n, that’s private business, you don’t do that with your guys.”

“Well, what then?”

The mall, apparently.

You and Anthony both stood with your necks craned to look at the proud and boasting sign, ‘mall of America’. He’d shut up after your question and just parked the car, leading you to stand exactly there, in front of that famous mall.

“You’re gonna go shopping?” you looked at him.

“Yeah, and what about it?”

Before you could start another argument with Anthony, you heard a familiar ‘hey!’ and snapped your head in the direction of the caller. Winston, Sebastian, Chris, Robert and Mark were all gathered together, seemingly waiting for you two.

“Hey, there you are! We were waiting for you,” Chris said with his usual big, dorky smile on his lips. Him and Anthony hugged and then he pulled back to look at you.

“Y/n, you okay with spending your birthday with us?”

“Whatever, man,” was all you could say, making the group burst into laughter.

You would never admit it to Anthony, or any of the others for that matter, but it was actually a lot of fun. You went into many stores for no apparent reason. The guys bought and helped you make a Build-A-Bear, which you named Svenbjorn, and he had a little detective suit and a little bag.

You ate at a Denny’s, where Mark unfortunately, but rather predictably, spilled maple syrup on himself. Then you looked around stores for fancy suits and clothes and gifts for their loved ones. Your mood was brightened, and the guys sure didn’t seem to be displeased that you were there.

“Let’s go in here real quick,” Sebastian had said, and everyone walked with him into the clothing store. You hadn’t actually bought anything that day, so you decided that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to look around a bit.

“I’m gonna go to the women’s section,” you said, pointing to the area at the other end of the store.

“Sure,” Robert waved you off, as him and the others crowded around a blue suit. You rolled your eyes and bounded off to the women’s area.

Your eyes found a pretty yellow shirt hanging on a rack near the back. You quickly made your way to it, standing and admiring it, checking the fabric and the price.

“Hey, babygirl,” a cocky voice sounded beside you. You turned your head to see a boy around your age, an ugly smirk on his lips. His words almost made you vomit the Denny’s pancakes you’d just eaten, but you shook off the feeling.

“Uh, hey,” you mumbled, turning back to the shirt. Now you fiddled with it nervously.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here alone, huh?” his voice was strangely predatory, something about it just didn’t sit right with you. It made you feel alerted and uncomfortable.

“Looking at shirts..”

“I bet you’d look good in this one,” he said. You didn’t have to look to know he’d found some sheer-ass, see through, titty exposer. You did however peep, and, yes.. You were right.

“Look, I’m not interested,” you sighed.

“That’s too bad, girlie, I could make you feel real good.”

You scrunched up your nose in disgust. Your fingers gave up their grasp on the shirt, deciding that it would be best to just get out of there. The sound of your boots hitting the shiny floor sounded, as you began padding away.

“Hey, wait, where are you going?” you heard him walking behind you, the action of persistence making your heartbeat speed up. You were now panicking.

“Hey! Why are you following her?” you breathed out in relief. Winston was standing not too far away, Sebastian and Anthony behind him. He had lowered his voice to sound more threatening, which you normally would laugh at, but considering the situation, you were pretty relieved he did it.

All the three men looked pretty damn angry. You didn’t know how much of the conversation they’d heard, but obviously enough. Hearing another set of boots, you snapped your head to see Chris, Mark and Robert jogging towards the scene. You made eye contact with Chris, who furrowed his brows in confusion.

The boy was now looking at the six angry and buff men, swallowing fearfully. He was shaking and surely starting to sweat. You smirked. Asshole. You walked over to stand between Sebastian and Chris.

“Are you okay?” they both murmured, searching your eyes worriedly. The fact that they were so protective of you made you smile a bit. Although, the thought that you needed several men with you to the mall to protect you kind of sucked.

“I’m alright,” you said. Meanwhile, Winston, Anthony and Robert were approaching the kid with disapproving looks.

“Didn’t your mom ever tell you to respect women? Huh?”

“What’s your issue, kid? You had such a big mouth just a moment ago?”

“Don’t ever talk to any woman like that ever again, you hear me?”

They didn’t even touch him, just the anger and seriousness in their voices and on their faces was enough to get the message into the kids head. He nodded, breath shaking. Then, he dashed off between Winston and Anthony, running out of the store, like a dog with its tail between its hind legs.

When the other three turned back to you, they were still angry.

“I can’t believe him! I can’t believe that asshole!” Anthony muttered, disbelief ridden in his voice. Winston had grown softer, looking down at you in concern.

“Are you okay, N/n? He didn’t touch you, did he?” You could tell he was actually worried.

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s okay, guys, it really wasn’t that serious,” you explained, wanting them to calm down. You couldn’t be the reason why their ‘guys night’ was ruined.

“Not that serious? Y/n, he wasn’t backing off when you told him to!” Robert seemed even angrier that you were denying the severity of the issue. You just shrugged.

“This kind of stuff happens all the time, this time I just had you guys with me,” you explained. By the looks on their faces, that wasn’t the most reassuring answer. In fact, even Chris and Sebastian and Mark (the sweetest human being ever, theoretically incapable of feeling anger) were angry now, scoffing.

“That’s not- That’s-” Chris put his hands on his hips like an angry mom. Sebastian squeezed your shoulder, making you look at him, to see his jaw clenched.

“Y/n, if that ever happens to you, no matter how big or small, just call us, please,” Anthony said, eyes catching yours to express how serious he was. You nodded. “I mean that shit.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call you.”

There was a moment of silence where everyone just basked in their anger, before Mark spoke up.

“Hey, how about we just continue as planned and go watch a movie at the cinema?”

Reluctantly, everyone started walking to the cinema. You noticed how your walking formation had changed, almost caging you in, protecting you. Although you, Mark and Winston kept a pretty solid conversation, you couldn’t help but overhear the other’s talking about how angry they still were. Of course, they had every right to.

The night turned out alright again, as they slowly shook off their anger. The movie was great, and it created something new to talk about other than the ‘disrespectful little shit from earlier’.

When Anthony drove you both back to the hotel you were both staying at, he had another serious conversation with you. He talked about staying safe and keeping a backup weapon and such.

He wasn’t usually serious, so you listened carefully. You were thankful that they had been there that day. So were they. And from that day on they all were a little bit more protective with you - whether it was in interviews or just in daily life - they kept you close and was always slightly suspicious of anyone talking to you.

It meant a lot to you, and you thanked them, both for their protection, for an awesome birthday, and for one bitchin’ build-a-bear :)

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @eviemarvel @lozzypoz321 @allthecreativeonesaretaken @missamericana713 @rororo06 @shady80smusicsingercolor @ireadfanficforfun

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Damsels, Chapter Four: First Day

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read Previous chapters here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

Angel leads Scully out of Ricky’s office and back down the hall, pointing to various doors.

“Here are the customer bathrooms, we don’t use these. That’s the exit to the lobby, but we have our own door in the back. Through here is the floor.”

Angel makes no mention of the other, unmarked doors in the hall. She pushes the “Enter Here to be Dominated” door open and they walk into a large room with the floors and ceiling painted black. To the left, there's a long bar that covers nearly the entire wall with at least twenty stools butting up to it. Directly across from the bar on the right wall, there’s a small round stage with a gold pole erected in the center. A shallow counter, just wide enough to set a cup, runs along the entire perimeter of the stage with chairs neatly pushed in against it. A mental image of herself on the stage while men look on flashes in her mind and she shakes her head gently, forcing it away. Along the back wall are several small partitions; little rooms constructed out of dark red curtains that are currently pinned open to reveal a loveseat and table in each one. The rest of the room is filled with small black tables and chairs, and can probably seat upwards of 100 people. Angel leads Scully to the left, approaching the bar.

“Back here is the bar, obviously, and this is Queenie, our lead bartender. Queenie, this is Diane, Ricky just hired her,” Angel continues.

A tall Asian woman stands from behind the counter holding a case of Jack Daniels. She has wide, round eyes and a diamond-cut chin, her full lips painted dark red and her black hair tied into a high bun.

“Hey,” she replies, “is Diane your stage name? You’re getting soft, Angel,” she teases, casting Angel a flirtatious smile.

“Oh, no, we actually haven’t gotten that far yet,” Angel replies before turning to Scully, resting one elbow on the bar top. “So while you’re waitressing, you’ll talk to Queenie a lot. She can make any drink under the sun. Tip her out twenty percent of whatever you make.”

Scully nods and wishes she had something to write all this down. Between the new terminology and rules, she's already getting confused and is bound to make a mistake. Angel leads her to the other side of the room and climbs gingerly up onto the stage.

“This is the stage, duh, and this is the pole. We call him Paul, the pin to make it spin or stationary is down here,” she leans and points to a small pin at the base of the pole.

“Oh!” Scully exclaims, “I guess never realized the pole spins.”

“Common misconception,” Angel goes on, wrapping her knee and elbow around the pole and spinning a couple slow rotations as she speaks. “But that’s why you don’t want to put oil or anything slippery on your legs or arms. You need to be able to get a good grip, especially while the pole is spinning. We’ll talk more about that later, come up here.”

Scully baulks and looks around, but climbs onto a chair, then the drink rail before finally getting to the stage itself. The room looks even bigger from up here.

“So, just from a Bird's Eye view up here,” Angel continues, “those seats against the wall back there at the end of the bar we call the rock section. Dudes just grab a seat and order a soda and then nurse it all night. Never pay for dances, never come to the tip rail, nothin’. Just sit there like a damn rock. It can be a fun challenge when you’re waitressing to try to get them to buy more drinks, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

“Tip rail?” Scully asks, sensing that this will be something she has to do a lot.

“Right, these seats right here,” Angel points to the seats that are lined up along the perimeter of the stage, “are the tip rail. You have to sit here or be close to it in order to tip stage dances, hence the name. Something else you’ll hear is doing a mini-lap, which is just when you let a guy at the tip rail motorboat you or put his face in your ass or whatever. Usually you’d do that when they give you a really fat tip.”

“I thought Ricky said the men aren’t allowed to touch you?” Scully clarifies, subconsciously rounding her shoulders and crossing her arms protectively.

“Ah, important distinction. WE can touch THEM, but they can’t touch us. So like, I can rub my tits on a guy's face, but if he grabs them, he’s toast. There are some limits to that I’ll tell you about later, but you can’t give a good lap dance without touching so we definitely touch, it’s just always us who does it, not them.”

Scully is impressed by the degree to which Ricky seems to embrace the “women in control” model, but she’s curious to see whether it’s all talk.

“So that middle part with lots of small tables,” Angel is now pointing to the middle of the room, in front of the rock section, “that’s usually where the whales sit, like Mr. Keane. They’re too classy to sit at the rail but you can still see pretty good from there. And lastly, over there,” she now points to her right to the small curtained rooms, “those are the VIP rooms. We’ll talk more about those later too when we talk about the rules, but they’re basically where customers can take a girl for a private dance.”

Scully feels a pit in her stomach. No matter what rules they have in place, there is no way she can be safe behind a curtain with a man who is paying to access her body. Her distress is interrupted by music suddenly pouring from the speakers at an obscene volume, making them both jump. It cuts off as quickly as it started, and Angel turns to look at a small raised booth behind and to the right of the stage.

“What the fuck, Ben?!” she shouts, raising her arms in an angry gesture.

“Sorry, Angel, my bad!” A thin Asian man with a narrow face and a goatee waves down to them apologetically.

“That’s Ben, the DJ. He’s not usually so obnoxious,” Angel says to Scully, then turns and shouts up to Ben. “This is the new girl, Diane!”

“What the fuck kind of stage name is Diane?” He calls back down. “Also, hi, I’m Ben,” he adds, waving again. Scully smiles warmly and waves back.

“We haven’t picked her name yet!” Angel shouts back. “We really need to pick your name, girl, this is getting old fast,” she says to Scully.

“Um, this may be a strange question,” Scully starts, “but, is everyone who works here Asian?”

Angel looks off into space for a moment, lost in thought. “No, but everyone here right now is, huh?! That’s a weird coincidence. Anyway, Asian is a big group. Denny out front is Samoan, which is actually Pacific Islander. Queenie is Vietnamese, and Ben is Japanese. And Ricky is white as fuck,” she bursts into a fit of giggles at her own joke.

“And what about you?” Scully asks her.

Angel turns and starts to walk away from her, casting a coy glance over her shoulder. “I’m whoever you want me to be, Baby,” she says with a flirty lilt in her voice, before adding “come on, I’ll show you the back.”

“The back,” accessible by a door just behind the stage, is a long hallway with restrooms, a staff locker room, a break room with a kitchen, and a dressing room for the dancers.

“So, I’m gonna show you the dancer’s room now, just so you have an idea what you’re working towards, but just FYI that they really don’t let the waitresses come back here. After this I’d keep your ass out if you don’t want to get torn a new one,” Angel advises her.

The dancer’s room is modest in size with mirrored stations set up along two walls and a small bank of four more in the middle of the room. Each station is slightly different, but most have a makeup kit, hair products, and a box that locks with a code to store cash tips. Three of the stations sit empty. Along the back wall are four doors, and along the left wall is a double-height clothes rack full of straps, sequins, lace, and mesh of all colors. While the floor had smelled like cleaner on top of stale beer and sweat, the dancer’s room is sweet and perfumed with hints of vanilla and cinnamon.

“What’s through those doors?” Scully asks casually.

“The second one on the left will take you outside, that’s the one we can use to come and go without having to go by the customers,” Angel answers. “There’s another one of those at the end of the hall out there you can use while you’re waitressing. The door on the far right is a single stall bathroom. The other ones are storage or something, I don’t know. They’re locked.”

Scully gives no reaction to this information but makes a mental note of it for later. After they look at the general staff locker room and the kitchen, Angel plops down at a table near the fridge and Scully follows suit, taking the seat across from her.

“So, before we go grab lunch, let’s figure out your stage name so we can introduce you to people properly,” Angel begins. “There’s kind of a tradition here that your stage name starts with the same first letter as your real name. I don’t know why, and people will say it’s not a ‘rule’ per se, but if you don’t do it it will probably seem weird.”

“What’s your real name, if that’s okay to ask?” Scully inquires nervously. Not having real names will make this whole investigation a lot harder.

“Oh no, it’s fine. They aren’t a secret or anything, we just don’t like the customers to know our real names. My name is Ann. So Ann/Angel, both A’s. Queenie’s real name is Quyen. You can ask any of the girls and they’ll tell you their real name if you want. Except maybe Lexie, she’s a stuck up bitch. So I’ll just tell you now, her real name is Leanne.”

Scully laughs good-naturedly, though she has the passing thought that a lot of people may describe her as a stuck up bitch too.

“So, something that starts with a D, what suits your fancy?” Angel asks. Seeing the worried look on Scully’s face, she makes some suggestions. “You could go with a classic, like Diamond. Something a little more stereotypical like Destiny. Oh, what about Desiree, that’s really pretty, and it suits you.”

Scully considers it for a moment. Who she’d really like to be is Dana, on her way home from this insanity. Given that isn’t an available option, Desiree isn’t so bad.

“Yeah, I think I like that,” she says with a shy smile.

“Great, can I call you Desi?” Angel asks excitedly.

“Sure,” Scully responds, and then follows a very spirited Angel out into the afternoon sunlight in search of something to eat.

They end up at a little Mexican restaurant a short walk from the club. It’s the kind of hole in the wall place that only locals know exists, with tacky pink paint on the booths and dusty Cinco De Mayo flags criss-crossing the ceiling.

“So, Angel, how’d you end up working at Damsels?” Scully asks as she drags a tortilla chip through the watery salsa. She’s highly motivated to solve this case and get the hell out of here, so there’s no sense in wasting time.

“Oh, I just met Ricky through mutual friends and he told me about his club. I was a dancer at a total shithole before, so coming here was such a huge relief.” She stabs at the ice in her drink with a straw, breaking it up into smaller pieces.

“Are you working towards something else, or is there something else you’re hoping to do?” Scully asks next.

“I might ask you the same, Desi,” Angel returns with a slight cock of her head, and Scully realizes that was a rude question.

“Sorry, I guess I still have a lot to learn about the social nuances of this job.”

Angel shakes her head dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a question you get asked a lot as a dancer, as you’ll find out. Everyone thinks you’re just stopping here on the way to something better, something more legit. God forbid your life plan is to show your ass for cash, right? I mean, that is true for some of the girls; Tibet is getting her masters and Magenta has a day job as a therapist, but I honestly just like it.”

Scully is more careful with the wording on her next question. “What do you like about it?”

“Well,” Angel takes a bite of a chip and chews thoughtfully, “I grew up with really judgmental, uptight parents who basically made me feel like I was dirty and disgusting for existing, and for being female. I was always really ashamed of my body and when men looked at me, I thought I was doing something wrong to bring it on myself. After I moved out, my friend took me to a strip club and I was totally blown away by the confidence the women had with their bodies. Men were looking at them, but not like they were gross and sinful, just like they were…beautiful. And they looked so powerful up there commanding all that attention. And I just wanted to be up there like that, celebrating my body and deciding what happened with and to it. And here I am.”

Scully sits quietly, absorbing an answer that she wasn’t expecting to hear. She thinks about her own upbringing and the “good girls don’t” mentality that tainted her early sexual exploration. Even as a fully grown adult in consensual, committed relationships, she couldn’t shake the underlying guilt that she was worldly and sinful for desiring and having sex outside of marriage. It bleeds over into her relationship with Mulder, she knows. She can accept any physical attention he bestows upon her, and in fact wants it desperately, but for her to initiate it would mean…something. Something she isn’t ready to admit, even to herself.

Angel speaks again, interrupting her thought. “What about you, Desi, what brings you here? I showed you mine, you show me yours…or whatever.”

“Oh,” Scully says, scrambling to bring her cover story forward. “Um, I, uh, I got divorced recently, or I’m legally separated, anyway. I just got my own place after living with my husband for seven years and I haven’t really worked that whole time, I just supported his work. So, I don’t really have any marketable skills.”

Angel smiles. “Shoot, that ass is a marketable skill, girl! Those titties are hella marketable.”

Scully blushes, unused to anyone talking about her that way, and is surprised by how flattered she feels by such a crass compliment. Their server arrives and sets their plates down, and Angel’s demeanor shifts a bit as they dig into their meal.

“Okay, so down to the nitty gritty. Like I said, there are rules for us as dancers, and for waitresses too. Ricky mentioned his feelings about heroin and meth, right?”

“Yep, that will not be an issue,” Scully says confidently, spearing a bell pepper with her fork.

“Good, so also don’t get, like, super drunk or super high while on shift. A little to take the edge off is okay, but a drunk stripper is just pathetic. Like I said, the men can’t touch us, but it’s okay for us to touch them, EXCEPT we do NOT do extras at Damsels. No hand jobs, no blow jobs, and definitely no fucking, not even in VIP. Not in their car outside, not behind the dumpster, it’s a very hard and fast rule, no pun intended. Ricky will fire even his best girl in a heartbeat if he finds out she’s doing extras. Oh, and no kissing.”

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#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #case fic #case file

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ladyyatexel · 2 years

Text

Here is the YuGiOh State of Things, I guess? If you want to know what I have consumed and what I like.

Duel Monsters: In my heart, this is the only one that's actually Yu-Gi-Oh, haha. The others are just like, shows named whatever their subtitle is. I saw some of the dubbed anime in highschool, but mostly read the manga. When I decided to come back to this franchise this year, the manga is where I went. I also watched a decent amount of the anime before deciding it wasn't worth it to keep going because they fucked over Ryou Bakura, haha. I watched enough to know I love Bakura's voice as Rica Matsumoto and the 'Passionate Duelist' music cue. Also love Bakura voice in "Season 0", which I have also not seen all of, but I read the maaaanga, so it's enough, pretty much. My feelings and things I like and how I see them in this are all based on subtitled Japanese episodes and reading the translated manga.

My favorites are Ryou Bakura and Malik Ishtar, can you fucking believe it? I know this must be a shock. I think this has... probably been elaborated on or demonstrated enough that I don't need to go into detail about this. I also really like Ryuji Otogi. Mai is also very good. Yugi is sweet and good, actually.

And then this collection of spinoff nonsense. I did not ever want to watch any of these. I decided to watch one a few months ago because it was just fun to talk to the group of people I was hanging out with and they were talking about good boys dealing with trauma, and uh, that's a thing I like, so I said, fine, I'll watch one (1) spinoff. I chose ...

Arc V: Baby's first spinoff. (This sentence has foreshadowing in it. See if you can guess what it was.) I fucking love the first theme song. I listen to that daily. A thing I also love is this protagonist. I love tomato clown boy Yuya Sakaki. I feel more fond of him as a character than I almost ever feel for protagonists of a show? I'm a 'not fully developed side character' kinda bitch usually. The ending to this one was a hot mess, and I had a lot of Concerns and Questions about the ultimate fate and okayness of the counterpart Yu kids and bracelet girls, but I loved Yuya's tour of significant dueling. I found the duels so much more entertaining in this than any other anime versions of duels I'd had to sit through because Yuya spends all of his running around and bouncing off walls rather than standing yelling at the guy across the way. Also liked his top hat bow tie wearing circus animal monsters.

But speaking of monsters, holy fuck I love Sora Shiunin. The cute stuff that turns out to be just nightmares? Toys and violence? Unhinged desperate motivations that turn into real character development?? Sincere friendship with main male and female characters?? Fucking hell, I love Sora. Sora Sora Sora SORA.

I purchased keychains of Sora and Yuya. Did not expect to care about spinoff media at all, let alone enough to make A Purchase. So that's something.

ALSO GIRLS! They were real characters! For a while, Yuzu was doing more protagonist plot duty than Yuya, and she has her own duels and motivations that aren't jokes. I really liked her, actually, and I was shocked to find myself able to enjoy multiple girls in a franchise that is Bad At Them.

ALSO DENNIS. I FUCKING LOVE DENNIS. I can't believe his name is fucking Dennis, but I LOVE HIM.

I really enjoyed watching this and found myself missing the characters when I was done watching - which I liveblogged on a Discord server. I was real funny, thanks.

Then I got asked when I was gonna liveblog another one, with people pitching the ones they wanted to see me watch and comment on. Some shit happened on the public server I did all this on and I didn't want to liveblog there again, so I moved it to a private one. Where I have been going through...

GX: I'm early in the final season. I suffer from this show suffering from straddling the line between 'these are fucking cards' and 'this is magic that can kill you.' It feels more absurd than the original because it's still trying to operate in both real and fantasy world and it's kinda mostly not working for me because of it. i admittedly had a friend steer me over the episodes that weren't plot and were just 6000 year long duels. Me yelling about how much it is struggling between 'real life cards' and 'incomprehensible magic' aside, I had a really good time with the third season. Felt sad they thought they needed to bring in an entire new cast, though. Even as I loved some of those characters.

I liked a lot of the Yubel stuff? But I felt like a lot of it was needlessly drawn out and then it concluded too quickly? I don't know how I feel about it all, but I loved the effect of the voice drifting between styles/genders.

Did you know there are two plot-important and extremely capable awesome black guys with great looking natural hair shapes in Yu-Gi-Oh? Yeah, I didn't either. (Can't imagine why...) But they are both fantastic, so fucking shout outs to Kenzan and O'Brien, I love them.

I think my favorite is Manjoume. Which only happened after they sent him to the north pole and rolled him in garbage. Once he became proper trash, I loved him. Wish they'd let him keep the entirely trash monster deck from that one episode. Fucking dragons are so boring, blaaaaah

Shocking how much more I liked Judai once Johan showed up. Seems like he really needed what Johan had to offer. I like them as a pair very much. I like Johan's monsters as much as I really don't like Judai's, haha.

Anyway, I haven't finished that. I was not having fun in Season 2 (my friends were assuring me it would be worth it), but I really enjoyed Season 3. Dunno how we're feeling about Season 4. But I'm not nearly so motivated to watch it? That might mean nothing.

While I was doing THIS, the other spinoff people had been begging me to liveblog was...

ZeXal: I kinda... don't like this one. We have watched most of the first half. I've been watching it with my friends on Discord, and so it's kinda fun to watch with running commentary, but the only characters I really like are not showing up often or being really developed. I'm bored, I don't like the protagonist or his monsters, I'm not finding characters I care about. Tron's family is the most interesting thing going on. I'm missing something that is making the rest of my group go nuts with love about this one. I don't think I'd still be watching if it wasn't the group watch project.

I like III and IV and Tron and like, most of Shark. Actively can't stand the female characters, who just yell in distress and/or hit people out of nowhere in an overblown display of jealousy. I'm so tired of that shit. Kinda why I stopped watching a lot of this sort of thing ages ago.

Anyway, much like GX, I'm told the second half of this show is just OMG SO MUCH BETTER, so perhaps my feelings will change.

I don't want to watch 5Ds. I hated the motorcycle parts of Arc V, I don't want to see any more of that.

Sevens is full of characters too young, designs and a style I don't like. So Vrains is the only left that is a possibility. It's actually the one I wanted to watch based on the first pitches from the Discord server after my Arc V liveblogging, and I really love Arc V, so I'm curious if the ones that sounded appealing to me alone will continue to be the ones I enjoy the most. WE WILL PROBABLY SEE. LE SIGH.

But there you go, that's what I have seen and what I have enjoyed.

#lady has consumed some yugioh

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