#stars behaving badly

[estellamiraiauthor]

Possibly related: Japanese singer Ano was a pissing me the FUCK OFF, talking about how she was in this idol group that had “handshake events” and she’d jerk her hand away and say “bye-bye” like a fucking baby.

Now look. If you don’t want to touch people and that’s a neurodivergent thing (no idea if it is with her), FINE, but you give them something fucking else in place of the handshake. I don’t have a problem with not wanting to shake hands specifically (I’d rather not either, although I can suffer through it… hugs are the worst for me), but if someone has paid a ton of money and taken the day off work and possibly traveled to your event, you give them SOMETHING that makes it worth their time. You thank them. You talk to them. You appreciate them. You don’t jerk your hand away and act like a baby FFS.

[nucksaid]

I don’t like who I’ve become since round 2

[dateinthelife]

February 8, 1971

[Liverpool Echo, February 8, 1971]

On this date in 1971, Paul was kicked out of 21 twice for wearing sneakers and refusing to wear a tie, a fact he attempted to hide on his second go by wearing an overcoat and claiming he was too cold to take it off.

[irn-bru]

me when canon tries to tell me that piett and vader aren't besties who bitch about everyone else in the navy and hate the emperor but instead have a regular dysfunctional work relationship like everyone who works with vader

[cosmicswritings]

you know i feel people think tfp starscream would be a bad carrier or wouldn't be able to carry due to his size (at least, that is what i see in opposition to it). and i feel he's the one to shock everyone by just...pumping out multiple sparklings. mostly small ones but also one huge one.

i barely see tfp carrier starscream and i just wanna make it happen. one of these days.

[literallyjustanerd]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody, Ahsoka Tano Additional Tags: Crack, Comedy, please god give cody and rex a break, jedi behaving badly, One Shot, Ahsoka Tano is a Sibling to the Clones Summary:

An uncomfortably long time had passed since they’d been (rather rudely) hung up on, and still the stalemate drags on. Several more long moments pass until both simultaneously reach their breaking point. “It’s your faul-” “This is your fault!” - With how often Obi-Wan and Anakin find themselves in need of new lightsabers, it was really only a matter of time before this happened. Good thing they can count on their clone captain and commander to rescue them. ...Right?

[alpha-mag-media]

Inside celeb nightclub Tramp, where royals, rockers & film stars behaved so badly they should ‘be in prison’ | In Trend Today

Inside celeb nightclub Tramp, where royals, rockers & film stars behaved so badly they should ‘be in prison’ Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

How is anyone okay with Tomura dying when it was stated that the trauma made him age super rapidly and that's why his body ended up like that.

There are sooooooo many panels of Tomura going through the worst shit imaginable and taking all the damage like it was nothing, 'cause he wanted so badly to survive.

He was solely born as a suggestion of AFO 'cause he needed a new body and a tool for his plans.

His age went white by age five 'cause AFO turned him into a weapon and tested him by massacring his whole family.

He was presented in the story as a young man with deep psychological and physical issues. We saw him destroying his neck with his nails the moment he failed at the USJ.

Tomura was sleep deprived and exhausted to the point of hallucinating while he fought on MVA. That was after he admitted that he couldn't remember most of what happened when he was a kid.

The amount of times he threw up because his trauma was overwhelming????

Tomura got that surgery because he wanted the power to destroy what made it so hard to live for his and his friends and ended up possessed by the man who had ruined his entire life.

That panel of Tomura agonizing in pain on the ground after the Star and Stripe fight, while AFO looked so fresh and patted him like a well-behaved cat makes me so sick.

AFO wanted to use as sacrificial pawns all of Tomura's friends, after Tomura had stated time and time again how much he cared for them and how far he'd go to protect them.

Somehow Tomura got rid of AFO and his body freaking evolved to protect him. His body was taking the form of his dead family and it was moving like a shield and a sword in his favor.

He lived in a freaking time loop where he'd live endlessly the day he killed his family.

Finally AFO got killed and he got "rescued" from his traumas by Deku, only for AFO to come back, reveal that Tomura was never free to start with.

AFO almost erased a screaming Tomura from existence. The only reason Tomura didn't die is because Deku had passed OFA to him and Nana shielded Tomura to protect him.

All that for Tomura to come back just to help Deku defeat AFO is the most unexciting panel ever, say his last words and die decayed.

All his family? Dead. His dog? Dead. His childhood friends? Probably turned into nomus. His found family? Either dead, hurt or missing. The person responsible for raising him, the one who actually fulfilled the parent role? A child soldier 16 years old boy turned into a zombie butler that died by trying to protect him.

The cherry on top is that the heroes would justify trying to help him by focusing on his 5 years old version, instead of acknowledging that the man Tomura Shigaraki became was worth fighting for and worth loving and rescuing. Tomura refused to stop being the leader of the League of Villains for a reason, yet Deku would still call him Tenko and All Migh would dare say that Deku "saved his soul" as if that was worth something.

The hero society is far from being fixed, the story is far from being over, the villains made progress but they are still fighting because there is still so much corruption and ignorance surrounding the most important points of what makes a villain, you know, a villain.

And the one character who deserved the most to have a second chance at life all is dead :(

Tell me how is anyone satisfied with this...

[cator99]

im not online like that any more but sometimes when I go to check in on friends via instagram a reel is thrown in front of my face and while I typically have the dignity to turn away ive grown enamored by 2 accounts that i now regularly look forward to seeing. One is a relatively normal-looking but seemingly-autistic 30-something woman from rural Russia who moved to Hollywood because it's always been her dream to be an american pop star (such delusions hit very close to home, what can I say)... she goes places alone dressed in what is almost a normal outfit but just looks... somehow very off..... behaves oddly... posts videos of herself that enrage people and make them beg her to take it down... favorites are ones where she seems genuinely excited to see people of other ethnicities... with captions such as "my face when I see cheese [sic] people!" and then her phone camera pans between her like "😊😁👍" and a group of chinese people literally just hanging out outside........ followed immediately by a video of her doing the same thing at some sort of small music venue with the caption "my face when I see black singer! 😍😁😄🙌"...... all of her other posts are her confidently singing badly, emulating the stunts american social media stars pull off but not having the swag to successfully do so herself so she's just kind of rolling around on the crosswalk in a wig getting in people's way lip synching to her beloved ariana grande, or green-screening in a background of like a public park and just standing there weirdly flipping her hair fake laughing and biting her lip with the caption "me when I hear ice cream sound" she's so dope some people have called her satire but I can tell she's a sincerely weird russian woman who thinks what she's doing is totally fire... the first video I saw was My Face When I See Black Singer and was so shocked but well now I understand. I think that sometimes we take for granted the beauty of black singers, or perhaps chinese people, and also ice cream sounds... and ariana grande– who is all 3

[rius-cave]

You've said from your lick.comic that Lucifer becomes attracted to Adam not long after and Adam is basically dealing with gay panic.

How long after that do they sleep together and how does it happen??

Ooohhh nonny

It wouldn't take too long after it. Hmmm, in fact, I have a comic planned down the line that fits very nicely as a continuation, I might tweak the script a bit to fit it better, so we'll see.

However that comic is gonna be kinda dub-cony and with some coercion so I'll propose an alternative if that's not your thing lol

After the events of that comic, Adam is effectively UNEASY around Lucifer. He can't even look him in the eye, he's actively avoiding him. He's apologized (begrudgingly) to Charlie and he's actually behaving well with the hotel gang.... Except when Lucifer is around. He gets pissy, short-fused, snappy, etc.

Lucifer meanwhile has the spark of attraction ignited inside of him, he looks at Adam with... Not uninterested eyes, but he has a much better hold of himself, he doesn't really act differently or is trying to seduce him further, it's just kind of in the back of his mind for now.

However he IS getting pissed off at Adam's attitude and how he's CLEARLY avoiding him. He briefly wonders if it's because he's just being a fucking brat.

This goes on for AT LEAST two weeks until Adam says something stupid and tries to flee from Lucifer's presence again and Lucifer is like "okay that's it".

Lucifer pulls Adam to a room with just the two of them alone and they have this discussion:

"okay, this is getting ridiculous. Fucking spill it."

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about! Let me go already!"

"Not until you tell me what's got your panties in a twist. Come on it's been weeks."

"NOTHING! Goddammit-! This is fucking stupid!"

"Adam I'm not an idiot, please just-"

Lucifer tries to grab his arm but Adam flinches away from it.

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME! YOU-!" he yells, loudly, and there's a very obvious blush on his face.

Lucifer looks at him, really looks at him, and then it all clicks for him.

"Holy shit, are you telling me-"

"IM NOT SAYING SHIT. LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE."

"No fucking way," Lucifer's face starts breaking into a smile. "For real? That little teasing got to you this bad?"

"I DON'T-! NO! SHUT UP!"

"Ohoho, this is so rich! Who would've thought!" Lucifer smirks, getting closer to Adam and adopting a much more flirty demeanor. "That the so called Dickmaster would want a piece of lil ol me?"

"SHUT UP FREAK, OF COURSE I DO NOT!"

"Hey, no judgement here, you should've just told me you needed to get laid that badly instead of piss and moan for days. Really buddy, it would've made things so much easier."

"LIKE HELL IT WOULD! I don't want you near me! Get away from me!"

Lucifer cocks an eyebrow but doesn't flinch, he starts circling Adam, as if he was prey. Adam just follows his shadow, still trying to hold on to his little secret. When Lucifer speaks again, it seems to come from everywhere at once.

"If you insist, I'll leave you alone for now. But really Adam, you just say the word and I'll make you reach Heaven again. I'll make you see more stars than you ever knew existed. See more colors than there are in the rainbow."

Adam gulps, and he panics internally when he realizes that he's starting to get hard. However, Lucifer doesn't seem to notice because then he feels Lucifer squeezing his ass, eliciting a yelp from him, and then next thing he knows Lucifer is back at the door frame, all the tension in the room dissipating.

"My door's always open! Well then, pal! Hope ya get your shit together! Don't make daddy mad~" he adds that last part with a velvety tone, and then disappears.

"Fuck..."

Not a full 24 hrs pass before Adam is knocking quietly in Lucifer's door (his new temporary room in the hotel) and Lucifer greets him with a smirk. They close and lock the door behind them. The end.

[ineffabildaddy]

so we all find it hilarious how crowley knows jane austen for something badass and scandalous, as opposed to the satirical romance novels she was famous for. and we’ve joked before that it’d be hilarious if crowley knew more of aziraphale’s favourite famous figures for weird reasons… but what if it was the other way round?

what if bowie was a regular at the bookshop because he was always on the hunt for dickens first editions? what if freddie mercury frequented aziraphale’s favourite tea room? what if lou reed went to classical concerts whenever he was in london?

i think crowley would probably have an aneurysm if he found out that aziraphale had been pursuing his ‘stuffy old’ interests with some of the most legendary, badly-behaved rock stars to ever live

[bratz-kitten]

🪴 the signs as mitski lyrics 🍃🌱

aries: ‘i am a forest fire, and i am the fire and i am the forest and i am a witness watching it’ / ‘and i’ll go to work and i’ll go to sleep, and i’ll love the littler things’ – a burning hill

taurus: ‘at night on the rooftop i untie my hair, and watch from my plastic chair as my dark hair unleashes the night / the scent of flowers still in bloom from morning shower, and i say your name in hopes you’ll hear it in the stars’ – carry me out

gemini: ‘i will go jogging routinely, calmly and rhythmically run, and when i find that a knife’s sticking out of my side, i’ll pull it out without questioning why’ – fireworks

cancer: ‘i don’t know what to do without you, i don’t know where to put my hands / i’ve been trying to lay my head down, but i’m writing this at 3 a.m. / ‘i look up at the gaps of sunlight, i miss you more than anything’ – francis forever

leo: ‘i will wash your hair at night, and dry it off with care, i will see your body bare, and still i will live here’ / and while you sleep, i’ll be scared, so by the time you awake, i’ll be brave’ – i will

virgo: ‘your room was square, i once noticed from there, in your bed, as you slept, and i held my breath / everything had it’s own place, and i wondered what space would i take in the order you kept’ – square

libra: ‘if you need to be mean, be mean to me, i can take it and put it inside of me / if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room, you can lean on my arm as you break my heart’ – i don’t smoke

scorpio: ‘i broke our belongings, they’re all on the floor, the room is now empty, nothing left to throw’ / ‘i broke what you gave me, but you kept giving more, and i’m sorry for taking, but i keep wanting more, more, more’ – humpty

sagittarius: ‘and i was so young when i behaved 25, yet now, i find i’ve grown into a tall child’ / ‘and i don’t wanna go home, let me walk to the top of the big night sky / please hurry, leave me, i can’t breathe, please don’t say you love me’ – first love/late spring

capricorn: ‘i’m all used up, pretty boy, over and over again, my nail colors are wearing off / see my hands, pretty boy, what do they tell you? ‘cause i’ve looked down on them not knowing why’ / ‘i can take a little bit more, let’s shake this poet out of the beast’ – bag of bones

aquarius: ‘oh hunter, if you didn’t want the beautiful so badly, perhaps you would have found it in your spirit singing softly / but hunter you were human, don’t forget it’ – pearl diver

pisces: ‘i cry at the start of every movie, i guess ‘cause i wish i was making things too’ / ‘i always knew the world moved on, i just didn’t know it would go without me’ – working for the knife

[chaifootsteps]

If no one is going to say it, I will....Im thankful that viv didn't keep Michael as AD.

No, i'm not a stan, I don't hate Michael, and I know it kinda sucked for him to lose that spot but you know what?

It was for the best tbh.

When the old VA cast from the pilot did that bittersweet "thank You and goodnight" video, neither of the VAs that was still working for SH was able to participate, it was incredibly shady at the moment and given how V*v treated people that stepped slightly away from her projects in the past, then I guess that not only Michael wouldn't had being able to sing but wouldn't had starred the wonderful rolles he currently has and there is a high chance that anyone loves some of the characters he voices, being either Designator N, Rocky, Jax, and so much more than what we could have had if he was still trapped in SH.

Not to mention the people that he would have attracted...remember that creepy Valentino cosplayer that thought it was okay to attack him just because he voiced angel? How many times you can guess that it would keep happening if he keep the role? Without generalizing, Hazbin and Helluva attract a good bunch of ...ejem..."cases", that believe that harming, insulting and belitting others over a cartoon is fine because they are "passionate" and V*v never call out those who do or say cuestionable stuff in her fandom.

I'm glad, i'm wholeheartedly glad Michael dodged that bullet, because he is to nice to stick in a badly writted character for GOD knows how long and be harassed by weirdos that can't behave properly, influenced by the most chaotic fandom i've seen.

Anyways, goodnight sir, always happy to see you around, don't let the "cases" ruin your cool vibe.

-Midnight anon if that's not taken

As much as it hurts to say, as loved and missed as Michal's Angel was, agreed. He's in a better place with better people now, creating things alongside people who wouldn't dream of treating him the way he and Ashley were treated.

Some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright.

[seat-safety-switch]

When celebrities behave badly, it's our chance as normal people to get a little bit of revenge in. Despite the fact that we exist in a society that is primarily – if not exclusively – motivated by the urge to become famous, or famous for being rich, we sneer at those of us who actually make it. Celebrity gossip magazines fly off the shelves, as they contain the analogue-value-of-truth about our social and economic betters being shitheads. For a little while, I was one of them. A celebrity, that is, not a magazine.

You might want to know why I was famous, but it doesn't really matter why. In the times before the bad part of the internet started getting wild, you could quickly become very popular just by having a weird website. My website? My collection of hubcaps. It was water-cooler conversation, I'll tell you that much. What's that? Oh. Hubcaps are the things that cover up steel wheels on base-model cars, before everyone went all crazy with the alloy-wheel madness of the 00s as society collapsed under the weight of servicing the delusions of the pretend-rich medicating themselves into believing that they hadn't just had their futures ripped away by financial-industry chicanery. No, I'm not cranky about it. No, you're "just hungry."

I'm back. It turns out I was hungry. Anyway, I was very famous for awhile, and then, as these things go, I wasn't. I never got the chance to be hunted down and ruined by the tabloids; I just faded away quietly as society at large decided that "the hubcap guy" was no longer fascinating. I did get to go on Ricki Lake once, though. No, she's a person, not an actual lake. Yes, I know many lakes are named after people. I don't think they named one after her. She kept trying to make me back into an admission that I had stolen those hubcaps, which shows you just how high the threshold for bad celebrity behaviour has risen in recent years.

If you decide that you want to become a celebrity, you probably won't make it. When civilization decides that you must become famous, however, it's not a bad idea to go into hiding and start collecting old, shitty cars. No hubcaps, though. Bunch of Hollywood movie stars broke into my garage while I was giving the interview, for the exposure.

[rreskk]

MELLOW NIGHT

Summary: Arguments are usually unresolved. In this case, you went to bed and avoided any more of his antiques. Unfortunately he followed you to bed and disturbed the slumber, getting what he deserves in the end.

TW: smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/Trevor Philips

Word count: 1849

You were on your side, back facing Trevor who remained wide-awake as you attempted to sleep. Your body curled up and solidified at the consistent shuffling of his restless limbs. Wanting to say something, you couldn’t. You weren’t apparent to the idea of giving Trevor the satisfaction of talking, not after his stunt from earlier that day. By all means, the shuffling and twitching was on purpose. His grunting had revealed the stubbornness nature where he wanted attention despite the fault belonging to his destruction a few hours prior. He acted upon his insanity and broke some promises, arguments after arguments; not a sound of apologies. So you went to bed, and to your misfortune, he followed.

The flashing lights of his phone illuminated on the wall beside you. His thumbs tapped amongst the screen and faint, muffled noises of videos started to play from his end. It made you sleepy – all the background noises – until you heard clicking and, of course, the volume was increased. The faint racket became recognisable through loudness, and you heard the intro to some pornography videos he had downloaded. You recognised this one. The woman’s voice; it was his favourite porn clip, showing you many times before. He was always open about his preferences so you had the insights of his most regular watches, categories, most visited sights. However, it didn’t make you feel good this time.

This video, loud and booming, started with that familiar voice of a lady, softly spoken, ushering dirty words towards the man. You could hear the man muffle out sensual grunts as action began participating. Throughout the videoed foreplay, Trevor’s soughs of glee distracted you from the pornography that was happening from behind your back. Trevor responded to the lady who, as you recalled through memory, took the upper hand, her voice becoming the most dominant feature in this video. You heard this lady repeat phrases where she praised the man for being well-behaved, acting upon this maternal figure through a kinky and rose-tilted glasses. Trevor responded via sighs and small exhales. Like Hell, this video was so loud but you just managed to hear him.

It continued for a few painful minutes then your curiosity took the best. Pretending to still be asleep, you turned over, feeling his body freeze at your sudden movement. You faced him – in an uncomfortable position – but you couldn’t risk alarming him of your consciousness. It became silent. You felt his eyes peer over your “sleeping” figure before the video started again. He assumed you were asleep enough to pursue this moments of desire.

Since you were closer, the flashing lights of his phone would startle your closed eye-lids. So badly you refrained the urge to flinch at the sudden change of lightness. It went from dark to bright, depending on the angles of this video.

Trevor’s frantic limbs rested since you were within proximity but that didn’t stop him from experimenting with the pornography. He groaned softly and, with the mattress shifting, he adjusted his arm, the dirty hands edging towards his grey sweatpants where you vaguely heard the fabrics of his drawstrings loosening around the hips. Your left eye stirred open, the other one remaining closed in case he happened to look this way. With the new visions presenting itself, you saw him through the blurs of your lashes. He had himself in a muddle where a hand was settled within his sweatpants, the other holding the phone, the video – still loud and booming – showing the full penetration of these stars enjoying the fake intimacy.

You stared as Trevor’s sweatpants slacked down his hips, the stains creasing and the folds multiplying before he diminished the white briefs, proposing the size of his hardness. You had unconsciously inhaled through amusement. Your undercover frame was at worship of this blossoming erection that grew denser by minute. Trevor rubbed his tip and worked his way down, his voice-box trembling and breaking.

The pornography was approaching his favourite scene and you could tell he was getting excited. His cock twitched in his palm and his eyes, so merrily focused, never left the phone screen. He watched the lady with intensity. He watched as she held the back of the mans head, praising him for feasting at her breasts, treating him like a nothing but helpless boy who was frail and small. The background noise of his lips constantly attacking her nipple, her sighs, his whines, the occasional moans, the skin-to-skin contact; sexiness overtaking Trevor’s composure and possessing his cock into becoming unmanageable, taunting his tensed figure that struct to stone from beside you. Seeing someone of his own sex submit had made him lose authority over himself.

Then his head turned and gazed down at you. His glassy eyes made eye-contact with your opened ones. You refused to become covert now.

Trevor didn’t react to your awakening. He continued holding his cock and stroking it from the tip downwards, the pornography video turning off as he threw his phone aside. The ladies moaning had finally stopped, to your favour. And now his attention was fully placed onto you.

“Mm…” His lips quivered and he shuffled closer to you. Trevor usually acts like this total washaway when he feels small and figureless.

You were hesitant to act. You were supposed to be mad still, but seeing him brittle and delicate, it was something that turned you on like a switch. It was the consequences of hating how reckless and psychotic he could get that – an unconscious chemical reaction that alters your arousals – you favour the opposite, enduring all sides of Trevor; emotional through the physical blesses of passionate sex. So you slowly sat up and moved closer to him. “Hey, baby…”  

He sunk into your words and closed them glassy eyes, taking a deep breath, his stomach shrieking inwards and evidencing his ribs through the untidiness of his white T-shirt. You took this time to gently crawl over his static body and sitting just below his crotch. Your backside warmed up his thighs and you caressed his stomach with your ticklish nails.

“Everything hurts… So good… Jesus – “ He croaked out, looking down so his chin started pressing against his collarbone, admiring the way you sat there and massaging his rough skin. You had gently unveiled his chest by lifting up his shirt. You didn’t have to say anything, but the mannerism of your stern face, Trevor immediately bit into the hem, holding it back for you.

“That’s right.” You praised as your hands trailed closer to his intimacy. His back arched in effect of your touch. Trevor’s face scrunched up with pain or pleasure – you hadn’t of known – he was hard to read since he’s usually too animated.

You held him by hand. The rigidness was cruel compared to your skin. Despite it, you proceeded to praise it by precious strokes of your palm. His cock had excessively shivered when you decided to take matters into your own hands, literally.

“Ohhh… Oh.” You heard him murmur with a pleasurable groan.

“You feel good, lovely?”

“Fucking…” The shirt dropped from his mouth as he spoke, “I knew you couldn’t stay mad.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” You said while rubbing his extreme erection.

He smirked and whistled at your, what he’d call, feistiness. It was charming, juxtaposing the true annoyance you felt.

“What do you think, sunshine?” He slurred.

You leaned down and breathed against his cock while maintaining this strong eye-contact. The way he instantly shuts up, it was memorable. You didn’t plan to help by mouth. That would praise him too much, and he was being very naughty before the circumstance.

“I don’t know…” Your hot breath attacked him, “Maybe you feel too good.”

Trevor whimpered and covered his face with frustration. He wanted to be beaten in order to release the arousal as your magic hands shot witch-craft into his veins.

Your hands tightened and you warmed him more, and more. You increased the pace as well, enjoying the muffled whines from behind his covered mouth. Giving him a mean hand job while huffing your hot, luscious breath upon his skin, it frightfully caused a series of spasms throughout his spine.

“Ohh, fuck…” Moaned Trevor.

It was a lullaby to your ears, so you mercilessly scrape your fingers across his cock and waited for any further signals to surprise an orgasm. He was easy to please and cum. It took minutes, sometimes seconds. However, he was already sensitive before you touched him – thanks to the pornography – that his cock hardened, coming close.

“You’re hurting me, ma.” He whined with a grin, “It’s hurting.”

You knew of his attempts and rolled your eyes. “Why’s it hurting, baby?”

When you failed to respond to his standard, he frowned at you. Annoyed and displeased. The hard work to try and lure you into sweet talking him went refused, it aroused him, sadly.

“I wanna cum. I wanna fuckin’ cum…” He spoke in whispers.

It was obvious he wanted to cum. You leaned close and pressed a soft kiss against his quivering lips. You kissed until his cock shrivelled up, white cum oozing from the tip and painting your hand.

“Please, please, please!” The sensation was too overbearing, “I love you, God! God, fuck! I love… Yes!”

“I love you too, baby.” You murmured as he moaned against your mouth.

The orgasm was a long one. If a man could whine anymore, it would be classified as impossible. You wondered how his voice hadn’t of ran out from the ongoing cries. Once he stopped, his face was exhausted.

“You’re alright…” Your hands caressed his stomach and, enjoying the musk of his utter sex, your lips kissed down his neck.

“Jesus, sugar. Fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Easy.”

Trevor glanced down at you, pouting but in a subtle way. “Mhm?”

You returned his eye-contact and smiled. “Take it easy, my love. Don’t you feel good?”

“Yes, ma.”

“Then what’s the complaining.” You mutter.

He stayed silent and watched you applaud kisses down his collarbone. It felt more than good. It was dreamy. Like meth penetrating his skin.

You hummed and stopped kissing his body any further than his chest. Trevor was about to whinge but you immediately grabbed his jaw and his mouth fell open. His eyes were barely present to the current reality. He presents his tongue and knew what you were going to do next. His most favourite thing you could do.

A long trail of spit drooled from your mouth and into his. He inhaled your spit with heart-eyes and closed his mouth, swallowing the slaver like it was his own.  

“Good boy.” Finally, you said what he’s been wanting to hear all night.

Trevor’s head fell back against the pillow and he dropped his limbs as you crawled to the side, lips never leaving his neck. The affection had instantly drowned him in the blues, solitude turning into slumber.

You waited until he had fell asleep before turning your back, once again, and leaving him to soak up the post-clarity of his orgasm.

[hannahssimblr]

At the tail end of the day as the crowds thin out and the shops begin to close their shutters I suggest that it’s time to get back on the road. The girls grumble about it. There is still heat in the sun and while we were all having a nice conversation on the grass, I think it'd be best to get home before I’m worn out and too tired to drive. It’s been a long day already, as fun as it's been.

“Well, fine,” Jen struggles to her feet, “but I need to find a toilet before I go anywhere.”

“You should have a posh wee then,” I say, “We should all go.”

Years ago I learned the power of strolling into an establishment with the confidence of someone who deserves to be there, and because the toilets in five star hotels are better than the ones you have to pay fifty cent to use in the shopping centre across the road, those are the ones we prefer to use.

The strategy is so simple. With enough blind confidence once can stride right into the Shelbourne Hotel, past the doorman with his little top hat on him, use their toilets and their thick paper hand towels and then leave like a bandit. It turns the act of doing a piss into something with all the dangerous excitement of a bank heist. 

Evie doesn’t know what a posh wee is yet, so we decide it's best to show her. So with her hand clasped in Jen’s we hurry down the road, and slow to a casual stroll as we ascend the steps of the hotel.

I know the Shelbourne, I’ve been here enough times especially for the toilets, and other times to have awkward lunch with my maternal grandmother who would always make sure to tell me I was scruffy and make comments about how my sister was badly behaved for asking for crayons at the table. There was a family wedding here once too, of some cousin or something, at which I stuck my arm into the chocolate fountain and got it all over my sleeve. My dad had to strip me off in the men's bathroom so we could wash my shirt in the sink in front of the old guys using the urinals. 

Evie evidently has no history with this place. For a few stunned seconds she stands in the centre of the foyer, her body reflected in the gleaming marble floor and stares, and stares and stares at the chandeliers, the gilded mirrors, the extravagant bouquets of flowers with her mouth open in a little o, frozen with the shock of the luxury. 

“Evie,” Jen says gently, “The toilets are this way.”

“Oh, okay,” she lands back on earth, “I’m coming.”

“Wait until you feel their paper towels,” Jen holds the door open for Evie as they slip inside the ladies room, “I've a feeling they’ll change your life.”

They’re a while in there, so while I wait I wander around the hotel a bit. I peek into the dining room where what seems like hundreds of the country's most elderly are seated for dinner, then the lounge, where a jazz band is setting up, and finally I wander up the stairs and start opening and closing various doors just to see what’s behind them. It’s mainly empty conference rooms containing nothing remotely exciting whatsoever.

Until, on the opposite side of the landing, I spot a woman in a red dress coming through a set of double doors. Behind her the ballroom is alive with lights, music, clinking glassware and then it's all gone again behind the sweep of a door.

The girls are finishing up their posh wee as I'm coming back down the stairs, then, pausing at the bottom I blurt out “I found something.”

Jen scrunches up her face, “Oh God.” She follows me anyway, Evie in tow and trailing behind me as I dash back to the landing, following that muffled sound of music all the way to the ballroom doors. 

I ease one door open with my shoulder and let a shaft of light leak out onto the carpet. 

Evie’s eyes widen, “Wha-”

I shush her sharply, “Don’t ask, just come in,” I step aside and usher them in ahead of me, then we are standing inside witnessing the full spectrum of the extravagance, disco lights thrown over their faces, Evie's, stunned, Jen's miffed. She grabs my arm and hisses at me, “Jude! This is someone’s wedding party.” As if I somehow didn't know it already.

“Don’t worry about it,” I stroll over to a table of champagne and snatch two glasses for them, contemplating, only as a man in a crisp tailored suit eyes me disdainfully, that I might be pushing the whole ‘you can get away with anything if you’re confident enough’ thing a step too far. Oh well, I’ll just see how long it takes to get kicked out. 

I pass the glasses to the girls, and when a smartly dressed, penguin of a waiter with a plate of vol au vents comes close enough for me to take one in each hand. I might as well enjoy something free. I stuff them into my mouth one after the other like a starving dog, not sure if I even really taste them.  

“Are you supposed to be here?” Some middle aged woman says to me, getting way too close. 

“Yeah,” I reply, and stare back at her until she goes away. 

After wiping pastry crumbs off my face, I approach Evie, who has both hands on the stem of her champagne flute, gazing around the room with big inquisitive eyes. 

“What do you think?”

“A bit fancy, the whole thing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

A smile, “The champagne is really nice though.”

“Is it?” I catch myself hoping that she offers me a sip from her glass, even after the long, intensive and graphic discussion I had with my dad about what would happen to me and my car if I ever got behind the wheel after drinking. Still, the bubbles in the glass rise so enticingly to the surface.

“Do you feel weird being here?” I ask her.

“Like, in the wrong outfit?”

“I suppose.”

She raises one shoulder in a shrug, “Maybe, it’s mostly funny though, isn’t it?”

“I would agree.”

“I'm surprised we've not been chucked out.”

“We will be, soon.”

The band kicks off into a cover of an Elvis song that aunt Maureen used to blast in the kitchen when she was doing a deep clean. With all of the fancy people in their finest outfits swaying unrhythmically on the dance floor, I decide that what would make the situation much funnier is if we were there among them, shorts and t-shirts and dirty white runners. 

“Where’s Jen? Jen!” I pull her away from a conversation she’s having with an old woman who seems confused about her appearance, “You’re dancing with me now.”

“Are you drunk? You’re hardly drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. Hey! You too,” and with a hand on Evie’s shoulder I march her onto the dancefloor. She’s giggling the whole way. 

“Wait, wait,” she leaves her glass onto a table and I pick it up for one sip, that’s all. She was right, it’s really nice champagne.

“Are you making me dance?”

“Shh, yes, wouldn’t you like to say that you danced in the ballroom of the Shelbourne?”

“Yeah I’ll call my mother straight away and tell her the good news. She'll be so proud of me.”

“Do you like Elvis?” holding both of her hands in mine I spin her in a wild circle, accidentally bumping her into someone else, and she gasps, “sorry! Sorry! That was an accident!” Then to me, “I don’t know, I haven’t decided.”

“If you like Elvis?” I didn’t really intend to dance with her, but here we are. I don't let go.

“I don’t think about him in terms of like or dislike, or whatever. He’s just… himself, like.”

“Suppose he is, yeah.”

We are dancing with so little grace that it ought to be humiliating, yet she’s smiling with delight at the silliness of this moment, and the coloured lights bounce over her face in a way that would be so nice to paint. I crash her into someone else, then immediately leap backwards onto some man’s foot.

“Sorry, man.”

“Excuse me, are you even supposed to be here?”

“I'm a cousin.”

The chorus kicks in and I sing it at Evie with tone deaf enthusiasm in my best Elvis voice, “Your kisses lift me higher, like the sweet song of a choir, uh huh! You light my morning sky burnin’ luh-uh-uve.”

I catch her eye the moment that her laugh fades and her face takes on a different look, one I've recognised in other people, and for one fraction of a second as I look back my brain tries to formulate a thought, or at least the beginning of one.

If I wanted to, I could-

Nope. Not interested.

I release her immediately and whirl around to dance with Jen instead.

“What's wrong with you?” She says the moment she sees my face.

“Me? Nothing. What's wrong with you?”

“I'm fine. Why do you look liked you've stopped having fun all of a sudden?”

“I haven't at all.”

“Then why are you looking all intense?”

“Hm? Who's intense?”

“You!”

“Dunno, Jen, too many questions,” I attempt to dip her but she resists with a squeal, and thankfully, it's just about enough to distract her.

From nothing, that is. Because nothing is happening. Nobody is intense except the guy on stage, singing Elvis like his life depends on it, and I am being completely normal.

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