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September 10 - September 28, 2025
Just think, little brother—your title of loser is about to be official.
“No. Christ. Now give me that dragon dick, Blackbird.”
No boys allowed unless they have scales and a breeding kink.” “Of all the times to forget my dinosaur onesie at home.”
or that Sloane is on a maybe-date with some wanker from buttfuck nowhere.
What if she calls for help and I’m pissed drunk at the tavern singing “Country Roads”?
“Touch that fucking table and I will rip your goddamn hands off and use them to wipe my ass until the day I die,” Rowan snarls.
CPR?” “If you want to, but I call dibs on not doing mouth-to-mouth.”
“Maybe I’m Fionn’s Girl-chick, Mr. Man-guy Flick-a-shit.”
“I’d teach you a lesson about wanting. About wanting to come so badly you have to beg for it.”
“I would kill for you, and I have. I would do it again, every damn day. I’d turn myself inside out for you. I would die for you. I don’t just like you, Sloane, and you fucking know it.”
“Don’t worry, Blackbird. He’ll be just fine. Dr. Blueballs is just a little jealous.”
Rowan’s grin is nothing short of diabolical. “We weren’t playing sports. We were having sex.” Rose cackles at the table and stuffs another bite of waffle into her mouth. “Amazing. I love these two. Can they stay?”
Inform Rowan immediately of any reservations under this name or any guests fitting this description. And then, in red text as though it was added at a later date: IMMEDIATELY. I AM NOT FUCKING AROUND.
“Our cat. I can’t wait to be kitty litter influencers together; what a great side hustle. We’re gonna be rich.”
“Log out of my video feed. I don’t want you to watch in case I change my mind and kill him myself.” “Do me a favor and give him a big sloppy kiss instead,” Lachlan says.
