#and prior to that i hit on him at a party at our friend's house and all he did was stand there kinda speechless 💀 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honeyedmiller · 2 months

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The Hills | Joel Miller

pairing: actor!joel x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors do not interact.

warnings: no outbreak!joel, joel miller au, use of marijuana (reader gets high and joel takes a hit), alcohol consumption, enemies to not-so-much-enemies, joel is on his freak shit in this one, smut (fingering, ass play, cum eating, rimming, unprotected piv, spitting, m & f oral receiving, consensual choking and breath play), reader is lowkey a brat but joel is also an ass, joel’s twitchy palm™, two (2) ass slaps, reader is described to be wearing a dress and heels, mentions of usage of cocaine (non-descriptive and it’s neither reader or joel using—just had to add the warning), no use of y/n. if there’s anything that i missed, please lmk.

word count: 6.1k

synopsis: drugs. sex. fame. joel miller—the very man you despise. something about hollywood or other. it all seems to become a blurred line when you get invited to an oscars after party at a house in the hills.

a/n: shoutout to @joelsgreys for keeping eyes on this for me, for beta’ing, for letting me rant about this continuously in our texts, etc etc. ily

Hollywood: the definition of glitz and glamor, celebrities galore, and wild parties.

Right?

Sort of.

You’d been to these afterparties before—chaos, laughter, and drunk or high celebrities every which way. The afterparties that showed the real side of Hollywood’s favorite people. The afterparties where secretive sex ensues in a hidden room tucked in the back of the mansion. The afterparties where people let loose, had fun, and celebrated their wins, or the wins of their friends.

That’s exactly why you were here. This particular multi-million dollar home was chalk-full of familiar famous faces that would get absolutely trashed without the public knowing a single thing about their rendezvous, celebrating each other’s wins.

It was like an unspoken rule amongst all the attendees: what happens at the after party, stays at the after party.

Tess Servopoulos, a well-known actress, was your best friend. She always invited you to the award shows when she could, and made sure you were invited to the afterparties. In this case, it was the after party for The Oscars, where her other best friend was celebrating his wins tonight, taking home three Oscars just hours prior.

And it’s funny, because to you, the devil wasn’t down in Georgia. He was in fucking Los Angeles, California, and his name is Joel Miller.

Arrogant, conceited, and a complete asshole as far as you were concerned. You’d never had a good interaction with the man, always seeming to have targeted hatred toward you for no particular reason.

So you hated him right back.

Because, honestly, who the fuck did he think he was?

You didn’t give two shits if he was an A-lister. Good for him. His arrogance and asshole-ish nature was enough to make you roll your eyes at the mere sight of him. He was one of those people that everybody seemed to absolutely adore, thinking he was doing everyone a solid favor just by being in their presence.

And you think, the fuck does it matter anyway? Your opinion of one man in a room full of elites is about as relevant as a speck of fucking dirt on the bottom of some Louboutins.

You inwardly sighed and drank from the champagne flute that was placed in your hand once you maneuvered your way into the house. Tess dragged you along to say hello to people you’ve met before, and introduced you to those you hadn’t. Most of them were fairly nice, some remembering you from previous parties or recognizing you in god-awful candid shots that paparazzi took of you when you were with Tess.

Tabloids were always a funny thing. There were multiple times where you’d see a photo of yourself in public with Tess, plastered in some stupid celebrity magazine claiming you were her ‘mystery lover.’ Or, there were the times where they’d call you a gold digger; someone who wanted fifteen minutes of fame and all the “luxuries” that came with being acquainted with a celebrity.

You always had a good laugh with Tess about them, and she’d tell you that one day she’d share the story behind you: a college roommate who was her total opposite, but it worked. You were there from the beginning—she’d get casted in parts for commercials, then extras for TV shows, and then bigger roles like a supporting character, and eventually the lead character in many blockbuster hits.

You were her biggest supporter, there for her through her wins and losses. She was truly your platonic soulmate, and you, hers.

You always plastered a smile on your face when making your rounds at these things. Got a little star-struck here and there, but you kept your cool. Celebrities are human beings, after all.

The party was in full swing, people plastered and laughing loudly over the thumping music. Sometimes you thought these parties got a little ridiculous, but you knew this was a rare occasion where these people—faces of the public, under a watchful eye of millions of adoring fans and the scrutinizing media—got the chance to loosen up and be their real selves.

You swirled the champagne around your flute, babysitting the same glass from when you first walked into this party. You leaned against a crisp white wall adorned with what you were sure were very expensive paintings, observing the crowd before you.

The familiarity that drifted through the room was almost unsettling for you. Friends with arms slung over each other’s shoulders, casual and comfortable conversation—and then there was you, who didn’t really know anyone but Tess. She didn’t want to leave your side, but she’d gotten pulled every which way for a conversation and you didn’t want to ride her coattail all night, so you told her you’d get yourself another drink, maybe.

And you were going to, but then the room felt a little too warm. So, naturally, you ventured down another long hallway adorned with paintings and expensive side tables with vases that held fresh flowers that probably cost more than you’d ever see in your lifetime.

Your heels clicked rhythmically against the marble flooring as you made your way to two French double doors that led out to a balcony that was unoccupied.

Perfect.

You opened the doors and sucked in a huge breath of air, admiring the lights gleaming throughout the whole of Los Angeles as far as you could see.

And then you wondered, with every house and apartment and business that was illuminated with a soft yellow light, what each individual occupying these spaces stories were.

People that weren’t famous. People that had regular nine-to-five jobs. People who were desperately trying to make ends meet. People like you, you think.

You loved Tess to death. You’d do anything and everything for her, but Hollywood was secretly a massive headache.

You sighed as you tore your eyes away from the soft lights, opening your clutch to find the joint you brought. Just something to take the edge off and ease the fucking nerves that started coursing through you, unwanted and untimely.

You fished the pre-roll and lighter out of your bag, flicking the lighter on in multiple attempts, but no avail.

You groaned as you kept trying, but the realization that your lighter was done for had swept over you quickly.

“Son of a bitch.” You mutter with a heavy sigh.

“Need a light?” A deep voice asked from behind. A familiar voice. A voice with Southern twang that supposedly charmed every person that was blessed to hear it. A voice you couldn’t fucking stand.

You look over your shoulder to see Joel Miller in the flesh, clad in a crisp white button-down with the top two buttons unbuttoned, exposing his tan chest. The shirt was tucked into some black slacks, accompanied by shiny black shoes.

You hated to admit that he looked good. Real good. But you wouldn’t ever dare to admit that out loud, even with a gun to your head.

“No.” You said, turning back around. His footsteps become closer, and you roll your eyes before you have to restrain yourself from physically shuddering at the proximity between you two.

“Stop bein’ a brat and jus’ take the goddamn light.” Joel rolls his eyes, and you turn to face him. He’s next to you now, leaning against the balcony while holding up a lighter.

You eye him conspicuously, and he looks annoyed as he flicks the lighter on and off. You grit your teeth before slotting the joint between your fingers, bringing it up to your lips.

He easily flicks his lighter on once more, bringing the flame to the end of the joint. The small flame illuminates the space between your bodies, and he looks good with the soft orange glow against his tan skin, you think.

The end of the joint crackles and you inhale deeply, turning your body toward the lights of the city once more.

You blow out the smoke slowly, tilting your head to the side. “Thanks,” You mutter.

“Hm,” He hums, “Would ya look at that. Not that hard to use your manners now, ain’t it?”

“Shut up, Joel. Christ.” You rub your forehead with your thumb, eyebrows pinching together. You came out here for some peace, not to be annoyed and antagonized by the very man you couldn’t stand.

“Hey, I jus’ did ya a favor. No need for that fuckin’ attitude of yours.”

“Jesus fuck, Joel, do you not have anything better to do? Shouldn’t you be fucking one of your whores by now or snorting coke in the bathroom with another beloved A-lister?” You roll your eyes and take another hit.

Joel didn’t like that one bit. He took a step forward, broad body hard to ignore with the heat radiating off of him. Your eyes trail up his chest and to his face, which was contorted with pure anger.

“Who the fuck do you think you are talkin’ to me like that? You’re pissin’ off the wrong person, doll.” Joel’s voice is gruff, full of patience that was smaller than a piece of thread at this point.

“I don’t need to bow down to you just because you’re famous, asshole. You’re the one who’s had the problem with me from the beginning. I only reciprocate the energy I receive, so you can fuck all the way off with the superiority complex you think you have over me.”

“Why the fuck are you here anyway? Hollywood ain’t a place for naïve girls like you.” Joel quirks his harsh brow at you, like he’s challenging you.

Motherfucker.

“And who said I was naïve, cowboy? You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I know that you’re annoyin’ and don’t fuckin’ belong here. God knows what Tess sees in you as a friend n’ why she keeps invitin’ you to these things.”

Your blood ran hot as you stared at the man in front of you. His jaw was set in a hard line, clenching his teeth every so often in pure annoyance as he looked at you with utter hatred and disgust.

“I may not belong in Hollywood, Miller, but at least my fucking morals are right and I don’t pull bitch moves like abandoning my friends when they need me the most.”

You were infuriated and quite frankly so fucking sick of this man berating you when he should be the last person on this green fucking Earth to talk. It was a low blow, your last comment to him, but what kind of a friend was he to choose a woman he was so pussywhipped over instead of being there for Tess when she was going through a rough time?

It broke your heart to see her so upset that Joel chose another woman he barely knew over her, icing her out when she’d been nothing but a good friend to him. She forgave him, of course, after he’d apologized to her months later.

She had a kinder heart than you would’ve at the situation. You don’t think you could ever forgive somebody for that.

You already thought Joel was an arrogant asshole before that even happened, but that situation was the last nail in the coffin to confirm that he’s exactly the person you thought he was.

“I apologized to her. We’re good now.” Joel’s harsh stare never wavered, but the annoyance in his tone did. He almost sounded…sad.

“Yeah. Whatever.” You roll your eyes, flicking the ash off of the end of the joint before taking another hit. Your mind was already starting to become hazy, and the proximity between you and Joel was starting to make your head spin.

Your gaze flickered up to his face once more, brown eyes still locked on you. You furrow your brows, but before you can speak, Joel plucks the joint from your fingers. He puts the filter up to his lips and deeply inhales, and you frown.

“Get your own recreational drugs, asshole.” You mutter, arms crossing over your chest. Joel’s eyes trail down to your chest before moving back up to yours. A small smirk evades his lips, and he blows the smoke into your face.

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat.”

“Fuck you gonna do? Spank me for not thinking you’re all high and mighty and shit?” The frown is permanent on your face as you assess him, not realizing the impact that your words had on him.

His cock stirred in his slacks at the thought of that.

He stubs out the half-finished joint before handing it back to you. You tuck it away in your purse before looking at him again, carefully studying him.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He’s got a knowing look on his face, and you have to force yourself to feign disgust.

Because, goddammit, you probably would. You’d probably be all over him if he wasn’t such a fucking asshole. The rage you’ve targeted toward him has made you see past his rugged looks and charm, the broadness of him and the veins that protrude from his hands to his forearms and—

You’ve wondered briefly what it’d be like to succumb to it. To be like every single other person who melts for him like lava seeping into the deepest cracks of the Earth. Untouchable. Destructive. And yet, a beautiful aftermath.

“Think I’ll take that as a yes.” His laugh rumbles from deep within his sturdy chest. For a moment he looks so carefree, so light and happy while he laughs. It might’ve been at your own expense, but for the slightest second, you saw through the harsh stares and the hateful demeanor.

“Fuck you, Miller.”

His mouth snapped shut and his harsh gaze settled on you again. His nostrils flared as he glared at you, a heat behind his eyes you’ve never seen before. His palm twitches at his side and he opens his mouth to say something argumentative, but closes it after a second.

Before you know it, he wraps his hand around your forearm, dragging you behind him.

You nearly trip over your heels as you try to keep up with him, wriggling in his strong grasp. He wouldn’t let up.

“Let go of me you asshole!” You seethe, but he pushes you into a room—tucked at the back of the mansion—secluded from everyone else. Oh.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

You quickly realized you were in for it when he shut the door and locked it. Nerves buzzed in your veins and you inhaled a shaky breath.

He looked like he was some sort of predator stalking its prey with the way his eyes scanned your body as he moved around to the other side of the room.

“Real fuckin’ sick of your attitude.” He starts. You scoff at him and throw your arms up.

“Wouldn’t have to deal with it if you just left me the fuck alone in the first place.” You cross your arms over your chest once more, and Joel takes two large strides toward you before he’s standing so close that you can smell the whiskey and weed on his breath.

“N’ that’s the problem, darlin’, I can’t leave you alone. Been wanting to fuck that attitude right outta you since the first day we met.”

You swear your heart drops into your ass. “Wh-what?” Your eyes are wide as he walks forward, forcing you to move backwards until the backs of your knees hit the king-sized bed.

You didn’t even notice there was a bed in the room because the very man before you was insanely distracting.

“You heard me. You’re a brat, baby, n’ brats deserve to be punished.”

You swallow hard as a fire burns behind his eyes, mischievous and daring.

“Joel—”

“Turn around.”

You don’t even think twice before listening to his demand, turning around so you face the bed.

“Can’t hate me that much if you’re an obedient little thing for me, hm?” The amusement was oozing from his Southern drawl.

Your first instinct was to argue with him, but deep down you knew he was right. Maybe all the hatred you had for him had a little bit of desire sprinkled deep down in the depths of your core, unexplored and completely disregarded.

The thought of his hands on you excited you. You saw the way he touched women in the movies he was in. Regardless if it was just acting or not, you always ended up aroused after Tess would force you to watch any movie of his—especially the ones with erotica. She would tease you about not liking him, unknowing of the true abhorrence that stirred in your body. He was her best friend too, so you had to be cordial to him around her for her sake.

You tried to ignore him altogether, but where it got you now—pressed up against the bed as his large hands landed onto your body to tightly grip your hips—didn’t seem to pan out so well.

“Will you let me touch you?” His voice has a rough edge to it, the teasing long gone as he stares at your figure from behind.

“Yes.” You whisper.

He doesn’t say another word as his calloused hands slide around your thighs and to the front of your body. He presses himself against you, and the warmth he radiates off of his body alone makes you sigh.

He’s so sturdy and strong, just as you imagined him to be. You could feel his cock hardening against the plump of your ass, and you wiggle in the slightest to tease him.

He inhales sharply, one hand sliding underneath the hem of your dress while the other hand splayed out onto your stomach.

The skimpy panties you had on did a terrible job at keeping your arousal strictly within the confines of the lace fabric. The apex of your thighs was smeared with the neediness you refused to address, now completely on display for the man it was all for.

Joel’s hand skimmed your inner thighs, chuckling darkly as he traced the outline of your pussy with his thumb through the fabric.

You tried your hardest to hold back a moan, really. You fucking tried. As soon as the sound bubbled in your throat and glided past your lips, you could feel Joel’s smile in victory. He was always playing chess while you were playing checkers.

Well, check fucking mate for him.

“Didn’t know I got ya this excited, baby.” He grips the hem of your panties, sliding them down your legs. You step out of them and he immediately pockets them.

“You wouldn’t be the first.” You mumble, not wanting to feed into his already huge ego.

“Oh I’m sure I’m not,” He starts, breath hot on your neck. “Doesn’t mean I won’t ruin every other fuckin’ man for you. Bend over.”

You clench around nothing at his words, deciding that staying silent is better than digging yourself deeper into your own fucking grave.

You do as he says and bend over the bed, cheek resting against the soft silk sheets.

“‘M gonna fuckin’ make sure I’m all you think about after this. Fuck yourself with your fingers to flashbacks of tonight. Moanin’ my fuckin’ name all alone in your house, wishing I was there to take care of you instead. Fuckin’ brat.”

His words sound like a simultaneous threat and promise, but you just had to say something. You couldn’t let him completely have this without giving him some kind of shit.

“Oh please, I bet I’ll forget as soon as we walk out of this room. You’ve probably got a small dick anyway.”

And you know that isn’t true. He’s huge, and you know he’ll never let you forget about tonight.

A sharp sting blooms onto one of your asscheeks, the sound of him smacking your flesh reverberating off of the walls of the bedroom. You moan at the delicious pain.

“You n’ I both know that ain’t true, doll. Enough with that fuckin’ mouth of yours. Could put it to better use than talkin’ all that shit.”

His hands knead the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart to get a good look at all of you. You almost feel embarrassed, but decide not to get into your head too much about it because all you want him to do is fucking touch you where you need him the most.

Your core was aching. You were almost ready to put your pride aside and fucking beg him to touch you. Almost.

You were about to give in when you heard him shuffle behind you, and you craned your neck to see Joel drop onto his knees behind you.

His eyes locked with yours as he gave you a smirk before leaning forward to bite your ass. You let out a small yelp, and his hand was quick to soothe the pain.

“Gonna fuckin’ set you right once n’ for all.”

And he brings a hand up to your core, sliding his middle and ring finger through your dripping folds. You whimper softly at the sensation, a small flood of relief coursing through your veins. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

Your hips start to rock involuntarily, and Joel tsks at you.

“Greedy fuckin’ whore, aren’t ya? Patience is a virtue, baby.” He chides.

“Goddamnit Joel.” Your voice sounds breathy, even to your own surprise.

Suddenly, Joel slips his two fingers into you, and your hands fly out to grip the sheets beneath you. Your eyebrows furrow together and relish in the feeling of his thick fingers scissoring in and out of your aching cunt.

“So fuckin’ wet already. ‘F I woulda known I did this to ya…” He chuckles, working his fingers in and out of you expertly.

He leans forward and licks up your folds, swirling his tongue around your clit. You can’t help the strangled moan that leaves your mouth, and you can just feel Joel’s cocky ass smirk.

He continues lapping up your arousal, more dripping out around his fingers and down to his wrist. It'd been awhile since anyone touched you like this, so you presume you were extra turned on because of that reason.

You didn’t want to give all the credit to Joel.

His tongue slid up and he removed his fingers from you, replacing them with his tongue as he prodded it into your entrance and fucked you with it.

You were already a moaning mess, like you were on cloud nine with the way he was making you feel. He gripped both of your cheeks and spread them further for his own leisure, tongue dragging upward until it met your asshole.

“Holy fuck, Joel—” You choke out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he swirls his tongue around the tight ring. Your heart is thrumming in your chest and your pussy clenches around nothing.

Joel lowly moaned around you, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine.

You don’t know how long he’s doing this for—your mind is still hazy from the high you’ve been riding, pleasure wrapped around every single inch of your body. You lose track of time and immerse yourself in how he’s making you feel.

Joel pulls himself away from you, sliding both of his fingers back into you. This time, though, he teases your other hole with the tip of his pinky.

“You ever let anyone fuck this pretty ass of yours with their fingers?”

“Please.” Was all you could squeak out, because while you didn’t want to admit you never have, you were willing to give it a go. It was obvious he knew what he was doing, and if you didn’t like the way something felt, you’d just tell him.

He spits onto your asshole before grunting, “Relax.”

And you do. He slides his pinky into your puckered hole, and fuck you feel so full with him like this. He works his three fingers in and out of you slowly at first, each move calculated and precise.

He may’ve been an asshole, but he at least wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

He picks up the pace of his fingers after he’s sure you can handle it, and the feeling of pleasure seizes your body as you shake underneath him.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. You can feel your orgasm rapidly building building building, the coil wound so tight that your stomach constricts in plea of release.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Joel I’m gonna—oh fuck!”

And you’re literally gushing around his fingers. He prolongs your orgasm as long as he can. You think he’s saying things like there you go, that’s it, but you can hardly pay attention over the loud ringing in your ears as you try and come down from your Earth-shattering orgasm.

He slips his fingers out of you slowly, watching your body convulse sporadically from the aftermath of it all.

He grabs your body and flips you around so you’re laying at the edge of the bed. The fluorescent lights are blinding as you try and look at his face. You blink rapidly, chest heaving up and down as you try your damndest to find your bearings once more.

He’s unfastening the button on his slacks, and all you can hear is the rustle of the fabric and the thumping music outside of the locked door.

You wondered briefly if anyone—Tess, specifically—was looking for the two of you. You’d be mortified if she found you like this, but Joel was smart enough to lock the doors.

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t even noticed he was pulling down his underwear, so when you looked back at him you gasped when you saw his stiff, aching length. Your hunch was correct—he was huge. His tip was red, smeared with precome and just begging to be taken care of.

If there was any time in your life to impress Joel Miller, now was your chance. You sit up on your knees and lower your head, looking up at him through your lashes, your mouth inches away from his tip.

The muscle in his jaw ticked furiously, brown eyes watching you meticulously. You gave him a small, cocky smirk before you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around his tip, eyes fluttering shut at the salty taste. You use one hand to steady yourself onto the bed, and the other to wrap around his length as you start to pump him slowly.

He inhales sharply, holding back a groan as you undoubtedly start to please him.

You set a steady rhythm between your hand and mouth. The wet sounds are obscene and nearly pornographic. A part of you wishes this was being recorded so you’d have something to watch back when you needed to get yourself off.

Greed is a tragedy, and tragic you were in this moment.

Joel’s hand flies to the back of your head, cradling it as you remove your hand and slide your lips as far down his shaft as your mouth would allow. The head of his cock hit the back of your throat, and as much as you were salivating, you swallowed around him.

The tip of your nose barely made contact with the wiry hairs at the base of his cock, and Joel let out the most guttural groan you’d ever heard.

“Filthy fuckin’ mouth, baby. Goddamn. Knew it could be put to better use than you—ngh—spewin’ that fuckin’ attitude.”

You hum around him, bobbing your head up and down his length. His pants were getting more rapid and he was becoming more vocal, grunting fuck and filthy, filthy girl.

“Shit, yeah, just like that doll. Just. Like. That.” Joel’s voice is hoarse behind his clenched teeth. If you didn’t know any better, he’d probably shatter his teeth with how hard he was clenching them.

And you don’t let up. Not even after a string of curses spills past his lips, and definitely not after he groans so loudly that it vibrates through his whole body as ropes of his come spill down your throat.

You’re in overstimulation territory, and he’s falling apart at the seams.

He pulls your head off of his length as he tries to catch his breath, sweat beading at his temples.

“Fuckin’ christ.” He breathes, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at you again.

“Didn’t know I would be so good at that now, did you?” You tease, and the corner of his mouth twitches into a snarl.

“Shut the fuck up.” He says, and you laugh. He grabs your hips suddenly, flipping you around once more so you’re on all fours for him again.

“‘M’keepin’ my promise. Gonna fuck that attitude straight outta your goddamn brain.” His tone is serious, and you’re beginning to think he really isn’t fucking around.

You hear him pump himself a few times and you think about the dangerous threshold you’re about to cross with him. Would you regret it after? Would he?

It was like you were both taking a bite of forbidden fruit, specially picked from the Garden of Eden.

Fuck it. There’s worse things you can do.

“You on any birth control?” He asks, and you nod.

“IUD.”

“Good.” He says before sliding the head of his cock through your folds. Your body jerks when it catches your clit, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

Without another word, Joel pushes into you and you stretch around him deliciously. It’s like your body was begging for him to be inside you at this point.

“Fuuuck.” Joel groans, gripping your hips so tightly they’d probably be bruised by tomorrow.

You bite your lip to keep from screaming, because he’s the biggest you’ve ever had and the sting won’t go away.

“Move, Joel.” You plead, and he smacks your ass once again, making you flutter around his cock.

“Fuck did I say about patience? Christ, woman.”

You shut your eyes as you feel him become fully erect inside you, and you’re seriously going to cry if he doesn’t move soon.

Almost as if he’d read your mind, he started to thrust his hips slowly. It didn’t take long for him to set a pace, though, and he was brutally pistoning in and out of you.

“Fucking…. hate… you.” You spit pathetically, holding onto the sheets for dear life. He laughs dryly behind you, mumbling a sure before going even harder.

Your moans were getting louder and louder, and you truthfully couldn’t give two fucks who heard you at this point.

Fucking let them hear.

“Better hush up now, whole house could probably hear you with how loud you’re bein’.” He scolded, and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t give a fuck,” You squeaked out, “Let them.”

“Attagirl,” His laugh was mischievous, pounding into you even faster than before. “Little fuckin’ whore loves takin’ this cock, hm?”

One of his hands moved up your body, causing chills down your spine and goosebumps to raise onto your skin.

His hand wrapped around your throat, and you moaned at the idea of getting choked out while he fucked you from behind.

One of your hands flew up to his, and he was half expecting you to yank it away. He was pleasantly surprised when you clamped your fingers down around his, silently urging him to squeeze.

And he did. You felt like you were fucking floating.

Joel didn’t let up, even when you felt the burning hot coil wind up in your core once again.

“Feel so fucking good– s–o so fucking— fuck.” You’re a blubbering mess. He pulls your body up so your back is facing his front, never letting his pace waver.

“Fucking you dumb on my cock, aren’t I? Listen to you, baby. Pathetic.” He laughs at you once again, but you don’t have any willpower to fight back. You just let it happen, because each thrust of his cock into you has your body turning into complete fucking mush.

“Close.” Is what you whisper, and Joel can feel your walls tightening around him. He chokes on a moan at the sensation, fingers tightening around your throat even more.

You can barely breathe, but you fucking love it. You love seeing stars cloud your vision like this. The heightened sensation of your orgasm comes crashing down over you, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you silently scream out.

Your body convulses continuously as you try to ride out your orgasm, but Joel’s hand leaves your throat and moves down to your clit to rub at it furiously.

You cry out his name, your hands frantic to find purchase to anything as you try and brace yourself.

It’s no use, though. Your body is limp and your soul fucking escaped from you long ago.

“Where do you want me?” The urgency in his voice is evident, but you’re in such a daze that you barely clock it.

“Inside me.” You manage, and he groans loudly before he lets go, filling you up with everything he has. His body slumps over yours, both of you trying so hard to pull yourselves back to reality.

He slides out of you and you both groan at the loss of being one.

You turn over on your back, once again blinded by the lights. Your eyes flutter close as you assess everything that partook the last—thirty? fourty? you don’t fucking know—minutes of your life.

Your body slowly floats back down to reality, and you peel your eyes open when you hear shuffling. Joel is on his knees again, spreading your legs to look at his handiwork. He looks up at you with that same devilish smirk, licking up his spend from your cunt before hovering over you.

He uses his thumb to coax your jaw open, spitting his spend into your mouth.

“Swallow.” He demands, and you do as he says. You open your mouth to show him you did, and a satisfied look washes over his features.

“Hope you feel me leakin’ out of you all goddamn night, sweetheart.”

You look at him incredulously, reality crashing down with the unwavering truth: you and Joel really fucked.

He was inches away from your face, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered what it would be like if he kissed you. His lips looked so soft.

But that would make it too complicated. It would turn into a thing you didn’t need it to be, and you knew kissing him would make the probability of hating him into a fucking zero.

Get a grip.

But, you catch him. You catch his eyes flicker down to your lips, the same thing probably reeling in his mind, too.

Maybe one wouldn’t hurt.

No. You wouldn’t allow it for yourself. He can take his Southern charm and shove it up his ass.

You cleared your throat and moved to stand up. Your legs were shaky at first, but you found your grounding as you walked over to the mirror on the other side of the room.

You straightened out your appearance, making sure you didn’t have “I just got fucked” plastered across your forehead. Once you were satisfied, you turned around to see Joel sitting on the bed.

You nod at him once, “Joel,” and you’re unlocking the door to be rejoined by the thumping music and loud laughter, leaving him to stare at you as you walked away.

You made your way into the backyard, needing a breath of fresh air after everything that ensued.

“There you are! I was looking all over for you.” Tess pulls you into her side, giving your arm a playful squeeze as she holds you close.

“Yeah, I uh, went to smoke a J.” Which, yes, was of course partially true—but you’d probably never admit to her that you just got done getting your brains fucked out by Joel Miller.

She probably wouldn’t even believe you if you told her, anyway.

It didn’t need to become a thing, even if it was the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

Sex you’d probably be having flashbacks about years down the line, just as Joel promised.

You groan inwardly, eyes drifting upward to casually scan the backyard. You caught a familiar pair already staring at you from across the way, and your whole body bloomed with aching heat once more.

Those brown eyes were accompanied with a sickening smirk, and two seconds later, a wink.

You knew no matter how hard you tried, and as much as you fucking despised him, it wouldn’t be easy to get him out of your head.

You were so fucked, you think.

The idea of admitting that you maybe didn’t hate him was unwarranted, but you knew deep down it was your reality. You really didn’t hate him.

And maybe, just maybe, these parties weren’t so bad after all.

tags: @ilovepedro @nostalxgic @punkshort @endlessthxxghts

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagines #joel miller imagine #joel miller au #actor!joel #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x afab!reader #fic: the hills

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lnfours · 6 months

Text

inclinations (invisible string) | l.n

summary: a story told in two parts: summer and autumn. summer held the whirlwind romance that came crashing down too soon. autumn brought the repercussions of young love and learning how to fall in love all over again.

au: childhood friends to lovers, uni!au

warnings: language, some not so secret pining, moving fast but it’s for the plot, language, fluff, i kinda want what they have.

masterlist | next chapter | listen

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

THE HAMPTONS.

where every rich family spent their summer days by their fancy in ground pools or at the country club. the afternoons consisted of hitting the shops and cafes for some light shopping and brunch with friends.

but night time, that was your favorite time of day. that’s when everyone would hit the town for drinks or the few clubs that lingered, some would even host their own parties at their houses.

and one of those notorious parties would be the ones flo norris would throw. she was known for throwing the best parties in the hampton during the summer. and being her right hand woman, of course you’d always make an appearance.

which is where you were right now, sitting her room as she tried on bikinis. asking for your opinion on each.

“okay,” she said, walking out her closet in a black two piece, one that looked similar to the red one she had on prior, “how’s this one?”

you nodded, looking up from your phone, “i like it,”

“you said that about the others,” she pouted softly, “should i go with the red or this one?”

you twisted your lips in thought before pointing at the black two piece, “that one.”

her phone pinged on the bed and she sighed softly, “who is it?”

you glanced down at the phone. the name illuminating her lockscreen making your heart skip a beat.

“uh, your brother,” you said, picking the phone up.

“what’d he say?”

you clicked on the notification and typed in her passcode before reading the message out loud, “‘let mom and dad know max and i will be at the house in an hour please’.”

“just put the thumbs up on it,” she said and you double tapped the message before clicking on the thumbs up button. you locked her phone, setting it back on the bed as he hopped up next to you.

“you’re nervous,” she said, “why’re you nervous?”

you furrowed your eyebrows at her, “i’m not nervous?”

“you’re a bad liar,” she said, “c’mon! we’ve been friends for how long? i know when you’re lying and when you’re lying about being nervous?”

you swallowed and opened your mouth to speak before closing it. her eyes widened, “oh! is it because of him?”

him, meaning her brother. you knew that too well.

“you know, he’s not seeing anyone, it’s totally your chance,” she said and you laughed softly.

“no, flo-“

“oh come on!” she giggled, “you and i both know that if he wasn’t stupid, you two would practically be married by now.”

you laughed, “i doubt that.”

she sighed, getting up and offering her hands to you, “okay, fine then. no boys tonight. just us and our guests and officially kicking off summer. how about that?”

you sighed and looked up at her, laughing softly as you shook your head and grabbed her hands. you stood in front of her, “okay, deal.”

she smiled, pulling you into a hug, “good! now let’s do this, yeah?”

you nodded, following her down the stairs and through the house you had spent more summers at than your own. you made your way to the backyard, the speakers still playing music and the pool floats she insisted on blowing up earlier this afternoon floating around in the pool.

the night continued on and more and more people ended up showing up. you said hi to the other friends you had made during your summers in the hamptons, catching up with them.

flo raised her champagne glass to you, “cheers to us, and summer,” she smiled, “i missed you.”

you raised your glass and clinked it with hers, “cheers to us. i missed you.”

you both took sips and her eyes grew wide as she spotted someone in the crowd, a smile on her face as she called them over, “max fucking fewtrell is that you?!”

you followed her gaze and spotted the brunette as he made his way over. max fewtrell: lando’s right hand man, his best friend. wherever max was, lando definitely wasn’t far behind.

he smiled as he joined the two of you, giving flo a hug, “what’s up! as always, great party, flo.”

“thanks, max,” she smiled.

you smiled at him as he pulled you into a hug, “hey, y/n,”

“hey,” you smiled, “did you grow since the last time i saw you?”

you teased him and he rolled his eyes playfully, “ha ha, very funny.”

“where’s your other half?” flo asked, “better known as my annoying brother.”

max looked around at the groups of people, “he’s around here somewhere, think he went to go say hi to a few people.”

you both nodded, sitting and catching up with max. after a few more sips from your glass, you looked over at flo, “i’ll be right back.”

she nodded as you got up from your seat, making your way into the house through the crowds of people. on your way inside the house, you felt a hard chest collide with you. you were about to pull back and tell them to watch where they were going until you looked up and saw that stupid necklace.

the same one you had given to him for his sixteenth birthday.

“shit, i’m sorry,” he said and when you pulled away to look up at the man in front of you, it had finally registered, “y/n?”

you smiled, “hey, lan,”

he pulled you into a hug, “god, how’ve you been? it’s been a while.”

you pulled away from the hug, nodding as you brushed a piece of hair away from your face, “i’m good! i’m good, yknow, same shit different day, nothing totally new,” you said and he smiled at you, “how about you? how’s the whole racing thing going?”

he smiled, “it’s going good, actually. i’m just kind of glad to have a break, yknow, spend it here. haven’t been here in a while.”

you nodded, “yeah, guess thats what happens when you get hot and famous.”

he smirked playfully, “so you think i’m hot?”

you rolled your eyes, shoving his arm as you laughed, “you know what i meant!”

his eyes looked over you from head to toe, “i mean, you’re one to talk. when did you grow up?”

you laughed, placing a hand on your hip, “well if you’d come to the hamptons once in a while you’d know.”

“if i knew i was missing out on this, i would’ve put more of an effort to come around.”

you smiled, opening your mouth to speak before you were interrupted, “yo, lando!”

you both turned to look at who was calling his name, spotting max in the doorway, “flo needs your help with something.”

he nodded, “be there in a minute,”

“she said it was urgent.” max said and lando rolled his eyes softly and you laughed.

“it’s fine,” you said, “we’ll talk later, yeah?”

he nodded back down at you, turning to walk towards max, “what’re you doing tomorrow?”

“nothing yet,” you called back.

“good,” he said, “mini golf? i’ll text you?”

you smiled, “sounds good,”

he sent you a smile before walking through the door with max.

it was official: summer was your favorite season.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

“you’re a cheater!” you laughed as he happily tapped his ball into the hole. he threw his hands up happily, cheering.

“maybe you’re just bad,” he said, crossing his arms as you got ready to take your shot, “your form is awful, hold on.”

you straightened up, watching as he walked up behind you. you sucked in a nervous breath as he leaned down and wrapped his arms around your own, his hands fixing your stance. he tapped his shoe against yours.

“spread your legs a little further,” he said, “and then pull back and follow through, don’t think too much.”

you looked down at the ball and back at the hole in the ground, “okay,”

he pulled on your arms, letting you swing with him as he followed through, tapping the ball. you watched as it went perfectly into the hole. you laughed softly, looking back at him.

“thanks,” you were close enough to see his eyes through his sunglasses. he smiled back at you, taking a step away as he cleared his throat.

“‘s what i’m here for,” he said, watching you walk over to grab the colored golf balls, yours pink and his green, obviously.

you grabbed the score sheet from the pocket of your shorts, unaware of his eyes on you. the way you looked in the setting sun, the way your hair blew in the soft shore wind. everything about you was perfect to him.

but how was he supposed to tell you that? you were his best friend, he wasn’t supposed to think about you like this.

you looked up with a smile on your face and he felt his heart melt right there on the mini golf course, “well, shocker, you won.”

he smiled, “the champion remains undefeated!”

you rolled your eyes, the both of you making your way off the course and to the booth to hand in the balls and clubs, “yeah, yeah, whatever,”

he laughed, “ice cream on me?”

“well if you’re buying, then definitely.” the two of you letting out a soft laugh as you made your way back onto the boardwalk and to the ice cream shop. he held the door open for you and you thanked him, the two of you making your way to the counter.

you placed your orders, making small conversation until a younger brunette walked up to him, “are you lando norris?”

he smiled, “yeah,”

“oh my god!” she turned to her friend, “i told you!”

he laughed softly before she turned back to him, “can i get a picture with you?”

he nodded, “sure.”

you watched as the girl gave her phone to her friend, lando and the girl smiling for the photo before she thanked him and walked out of the store with her friend happily.

“does that ever get old?” you asked him as he turned back to you.

he shrugged, “i mean, the fans are what makes everything worth it, the good races, the bad ones,” you nodded as he continued, “i mean, there are days where i’m just not in the mood, but if one picture can make someone’s day, then so be it.”

you smiled, “i get it,”

the person behind the counter called your order and he handed you your ice cream before the both of you walked out the door. you followed him to bench facing the beach and the water, the both of you sitting down as the sun was setting against the waves.

“so,” he said, “flo told me you were in uni, how’s that going?”

you tilted your head to the side, taking the spoon from your mouth, “it’s going, i guess? i don’t know, it’s not great but it’s not good either. i kinda just feel like someone existing in my classes.”

he chuckled, “like you’re a zombie in lectures?”

you laughed softly, “a little bit, actually, yeah,” you smiled, “especially at my eight o’clocks.”

“what’re you studying?” he asked, looking over at you now. you couldn’t tell behind his sunglasses, but he was watching you with love filled eyes.

“music theory,” you smiled happily.

“oh, no way!” he said, “you got into that program?”

you nodded and he smiled, wiggling his shoulder against yours, “look at you!”

you laughed, “stop,”

“oh c’mon!” he laughed, “you’ve talked about this program since we were kids and you made it! that’s gotta be a little bit of an ego boost, yeah?”

you bit down on your lower lip, trying to fight back the smile, “i mean i guess so-“

“see!”

“okay, but i could say the same with you!” you said, “you were always talking about racing with mclaren and now you’re actually doing it, you’ve gotta be the tiniest bit proud of yourself.”

he nodded, “i am, i guess.”

“you should be.”

he looked over at you, “but it’s different when i’m here, y’know. because i can just be lando here. not lando norris, formula one driver for mclaren, not the overly cocky, sassy guy twitter paints me out to be. i can just, i don’t know-“

“exist?” you asked.

he nodded, looking over at you, “yeah,” he said, “and beat you at mini golf.”

you rolled your eyes and sent him a look as he let out a boyish giggle, immediately apologizing, “okay, okay, sorry!”

you sprung out of your seat, “okay, but i bet i could beat you down to the ocean.”

he raised an eyebrow, “oh, yeah?”

you nodded, sending him a challenging look before you threw your trash into the trash can next to you, “yeah.”

he stood up, throwing his trash out and smirking over at you, “how much do you wanna bet?”

“loser buys dinner?” you said.

“deal,” he said and the both of you took off down the steps to the sand. you slipped your sandals off and laughed as he chased after you, the both of you running past the sunburnt people coming off the beach. you threw your shoes down on the sand, squealing when his hands found your waist, lifting you off your feet when he reached you. you laughed, flailing your legs as an attempt to get him to put you down.

“lando! put me down!” you laughed.

his laugh echoed yours as he complied, putting you down on the wet sand where the waves previously crashed. you spun around to face him, reaching to grab his sunglasses. you grabbed them from his face gently, finally revealing his watercolored eyes. he watched you intently as you smiled, your heart beating so hard it felt like it was going to break through your ribs.

he reached out to you, pulling you closer, “i’m sorry i didn’t come last summer.”

you shook your head, “you’re here now.”

he brushed a piece of hair from your face, “i’m still sorry.”

“it’s okay,” you smiled at him.

you placed his sunglasses in his curls as he watched you, “so, where do you want to go for dinner?”

“ginos?”

“sounds good,” he grinned back at you.

#lando norris series #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris x reader imagine #lando norris x reader series #lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 #ln4 series #childhood friends to lovers au

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maggie-margret-blog · 2 months

Text

Friends with Tattoo Benefits

Mingi was one of those guys you just couldn’t replicate. he had a sort of passion for life that was kinda hard to find in people.I had been seeing him as an artist for a little over a year now, slowly but surely filling my arms and mid section with ink. He was talented and enthusiastic about each new project I threw his way, may it be big or small. Mingi himself only had a handful of tattoos littering his milkish skin,but claimed he was in it for the arts, not the personal experience. I had a theory he was just a bitch about pain or needles, nevertheless I never bothered him about it during our sessions. And he couldn’t lie about the money either. It was good fucking money.

Mingi had become somewhat of a best friend, mixed in with all the other things that come with being in close contact for so long.

We had first met that one fateful morning, 2am to be exact, when I had decided that drunk tattoos would be a hilarious idea. In hindsight it was a wonderful memory and honestly I was better for the experience. My young, college ego had been inflated and a stupid decision was just what I needed to keep my head on my shoulders. The night had just begun for me and my friends, bar hopping and partying at each frat house we could bare to see the inside of. All the ones I had seen prior were rat nests, and yet I chose to place myself there. A few of my friends had tagged along one Friday in search of some of my famous shenanigans. Modesty forbid I ever keep my thrills to myself.

“C’mon let’s dip, this place sucks.” Renel quoted as she threw down a pink solo cup onto the frat house floor. We had only been there about 30 minutes and already we were feeling the effects of poor party planning. A dozen or more drunk college girls stood in a tight circle, grinding on any available guy, and in some cases other gals as Salt Shaker boomed from the shitty stereo system. Since the Ying Yang twins weren’t the vibe for the night, I wholeheartedly agreed- “Let’s get the fuck out!”

“I’m barely drunk! Give me a fucking minute!” San hollered over the loud music, grabbing onto Renel’s ponytail and stopping her from moving any further towards the door. “There’s smoke in my eyes, this drink taste like dog shit and my thong is literally splitting my asshole in half, San.” Renel growled as she swatted his hands away. “That’s your fault. Just take it off and sit down.” He laughed, knowing he was only egging her on. “Fine, here-“ Renel said smuggly as she reaches under her sequined skirt, pulling the lacey garment down her legs and stepping out of it. “Woah Ren-“ I began, on my for her to grab the thong and shove it in San’s pocket. “I’ll go sit down.”

“San you asshole.” I laugh lightly, never quiet getting over those two’s battles. “Remind me to give this back to her. If Yunho ever finds out I have his girlfriend’s thong in my pants, he’ll kill me.” He chortles. “I don’t think I will. You deserve a beating.” I joke.

“Tryna get rid of me?”

“Maybe.”

“He’s twice my size. I’m dead.”

“You’re a good guy, you’re fine.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m heading out. I’m meeting my friend downtown.” Hongjoon, another one of chipper friends, said as he pushed past us towards the exit. “Who?” I called out as the sixth drink I had been nursing finally began to hit me. Whatever this shit was was weak, and disgusting. Yet, I was still drowning my weekend stresses in it.

“Mingi. You know that tattoo guy I was talking about.” Hongjoon enthused. This guy was always so happy for some reason. “Are you getting a tattoo?” I asked again.

“Yeah why? You wanna come?”

“I’ll go. Anything to get me out of here.” I agree hastily as I set the solo cup I had been drinking from down. “I’m drunk enough I’ll go.” San called, as if he hadn’t been complaining of the opposite just minutes ago. “Go tell Renel.” I bark as I follow Hongjoon out into the yard.

Once San and Renel had caught up to us, we were already halfway downtown, passing bar after bar and collectively agreeing that we should all go to each one. “If we keep this up I’ll literally never make my appointment.” Joon whined as he threw back one last shot. “Fine, okay let’s go.” San gave a unionized answer for us all. “Mingi’s gonna kill me. He’s supposed to be closing and I’m already 20 minutes late.”

“We’re almost there Joon, calm down.” San said with a hint of a slur. With that statement we came up upon the shop. The neon light was already off, but a man sat at the counter with his head down to scroll on his phone.

“Hey Mingi! Sorry I’m so late!” Joon said sorrowfully as he brought his hands together and bowed shallowly. “Hey, no don’t worry about it. I was just chilling out.” The man spoke as he raised from the counter and reached out for Hongjoon’s hand. The whole place reminded me of a mechanic’s shop. Sort of industrial and gray, but art was strewn across the walls and a few neon light had been added to spruce up the place.

The size of this man had me speechless, though my drunken stupor may have exaggerated it. Mingi was maybe 6’0 and broad in the shoulders and chest. I could tell by the way his black compression shirt stretched over his muscles, rippling in their definition. With the buzz already prominent in my head, this man looked like a playground to me. All I wanted to do was climb him. I could feel a flush flooding my cheeks as he and Hongjoon giggled and joked over sketches and last minute ideas. I could just play it off as a liquor blush, but I knew it was because of him. Fuck he was attractive. He was just so big and handsome.

“Shouldn’t take too long. Maybe an hour.” Mingi said softly as he looked over the small design. It seemed to be just a simple spiderweb with a few intricacies.

As soon as Hongjoon laid down on the sterilized bed, he was snoring. Joon had never once been awake during a session. Either this was a result of the alcohol, or the pain was a sickening comfort for him. Either way he was out. I spent m my time, however, inspecting the artist and the way he did every little thing. His gloves were blue like they had at a doctor’s office, tight and defining over his veined hands. The tips of his thick fingers were gripping the gun firmly with a controlled pressure. His focus and precision were evident in both his work and how he carried out his task. Why was everything about him so alluring?

“Joon? Are you good buddy?” Mingi asked after working on the piece for a good hour. It was swollen and puffed, but I could already tell it would heal beautifully. “Yeah, I’m cool.” Joon said groggily.

San and Renel were sleeping across the waiting room chair at this point, San’s jacket draped over Ren’s legs. That’s small detail made me chuckle. Sure they had their differences, but if she was naked from the waist down in public, he’d protect her. “Dude sick, thank you.” Joon said as he looked over his Achilles heel, now inked and decorated. “No problem man. Now pay me and go home.” Mingi laughed lightly as he pushed Joon towards the front.

“How much?” I asked as an interception. “Hm?” Mingi cocked his head to the side as I stood from my seat, still a little wobbly from all the alcohol in my system.“How much for a small tattoo? A really little one.” I asked. I hadn’t known how I would get close to him, but this was the perfect opportunity. This way I really inspect him up close. Stare deep into his concentrated expression and analyze his eyes. Oh fuck, those eyes.

“Uh, all depends I guess. Why, do you want one?” He questioned as he handed Hongjoon a pen to sign his receipt. I nodded vigorously as I popped up from the plastic chair. I had no clue what I was doing, or why I just agreed to get a tattoo on the spot, but here I was. “Cool, give me a minute.” Mingi said with a smile, showing off his row of beautiful teeth. They weren’t straight but who cared? Not me! He was so cute!

“We’re gonna head out. I’ll get her back to Yunho.” Hongjoon said as he shook Renel awake for a minute or so. “Okay,” I said shortly as a twinge of turmoil erupted in my stomach. Sure this was kind of what I wanted, to be alone with this new hunk, but now I was alone alone? My body shivered involuntarily, spine tingling and adjusting at the thought. “Where’re you going San?” My voice was timid, a gleaming ray of hope in eye as i asked. I was praying that he could be talked into staying with me. “I’m going home so I don’t die. You know how Woo is if I’m not in before sunrise.” I only nodded at the statement as the unsettling feeling began to sober me. But I couldn’t pass this up!

“This way m’lady.” Mingi’s voice broke my illusion of loneliness as all my prior thoughts raced back in. He was the reason I stayed anyway. “Thank you.” I punctuated with a head nod as we walked back to where Hongjoon had just been napping. “Now, what’s going on? What’re we doing?” Mingi asked as he sat back against the counter, arms crossed to expose the few tattoos he had. Though not plentiful, they were big and loud. The one he sported on his left forearm was a colorful mural of what seemed to be hyper realistic squid. The body was red and luminescent with a somewhat manly aura somehow. It was an interesting choice for sure, but it was executed beautifully so I had to admire it for that reason. His right arm was detailed in black and white, a few odd and ends tattooed on his skin, probably to represent certain things. I did notice a small KQ prominent on the first knuckle of his index finger. KQ had been a music club hosted on my campus for years.

I laughed internally at the thought of this big, beefy man singing in a choir, or performing The Newsies at the campus theater. He didn’t seem the type. “Anything I guess. Maybe something coquette-ish.” I babbled, unable to tear my eyes away from Mingi’s form in front of me. I stood sheepishly in front of him, a facade of confidence saving me face, but only a little bit since I was still kind of drunk. “Coquette-ish? Like the frilly bows and Victorian shit?” His voice reverberated is low bass over the air. I watched his mouth and nose as he repeated what I had said, then nodded. He nodded along and choked down a chuckle.

Mingi drew up a tiny little design, detailed with a small, pink ribbon tied into a bow with a pearl accent. It was actually very cute and even my sober mind loved it. Something tiny and coquettish. I was so happy with it.

“You know I don’t usually do walk ins.” He said as he etched a stencil. “Oh? Why start tonight?” I asked, looking over his shoulder, feeling the heat rising from his body. “If I’m being honest I thought you were cute. And I’d rather you get a good drunk tattoo instead of one you’ll regret.” He chuckled lightly, but my face turned red at the mention of his attraction. He thought I was cute? “Now where do you want it?” Mingi asked as he turned to look at me, now just inches from my face. I had practically been his shell for the last 15 minutes as I watched him sketch, so the sudden movement surprised me. I stumbled backwards a bit, and was sure to fall of Mingi hadn’t gripped onto my belt, pulling me back to stability. His hand was nestled between our two bodies, now practically sandwiched together. I couldn’t help myself as the moment dragged on, but I looked forward at the chest I was now level with. Traveling upwards, my eyes met his. They pooled with a twinge of worry and one other emotion I couldn’t quite express. “Sorry,” I mumbled briefly as I stepped back, only for his hand to stay firm on my leather belt. “No, no it’s okay. Are you alright?” He questioned, unmoving from his position. “Y-yes I’m fine.”

The air was thick and heavy around us. The room wasn’t too big so that might have had something to do with it, but probably not. It was more likely the tension between us that simmered. His hand stayed on my belt, even going as far as to tighten his grip. “How drub are you?” He asks suddenly.

“I’m, I’m practically sober.” I answered.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“N-no I don’t.”

“Do you know where you are right now?”

“Tattoo shop.”

“Be more specific.” He hummed lowly as his hand pulled me closer, my hip flush against his thigh.

“Flaming Ink, downtown Astoria,” I answered again, quieter than before.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked finally, lowering himself to my level so he could see my expression clearly. My face was burning as it was, so for him to face me directly turned me to mush. And to kiss him? Oh fuck I could’ve vomited with how nervous I was!

I nodded slowly as the larger man braced my jaw in his palm, gently pulling me forward and pressing a hunger pained kiss to my lips. I was taken aback by the way he was already desperate for the contact. To be fair, so was I. The kiss only lasted about 3 seconds before he pulled away, lips parted and eyes droopy. The flecks of his dyed hair fell into his line of sight. The image in front of me was borderline erotic to say the least. I could tell by the look in his eyes that we were nowhere near finished.

Hastily, my arms found perch on his shoulders and I reconnected our lips, lapping at the pillowy petals and melting as he returned the favor. He tugged me closer, hands finally leaving my belt and landing on my waist, pulling my hips to his own. This was all too much yet I couldn’t (wouldn’t) stop myself. I had only wanted him for an hour or so, but that was an hour too long with out him.

Our lip lock progressed into something else entirely, and what that was I didn’t know. Something primal. Something languid and wet. Before I could count his teeth with my tongue, his hands were burrowed down the back of my jeans, fingers gripping at my ass haphazardly. The hum of the overhead lights was enough of a lullaby to keep us in the moment. Soft murmurs from the radio entwined around us and took the lead. “Mingi,” I said hushly, placing a hand on his chest. Oh finally I got to feel it. The muscles tensed under my touch and I watched the nipple harden from under the shirt. “Hm?” He acknowledged my plea and stopped himself. “I’m sorry it was all so fast, I-“ he began to explain himself, hands leaving my behind.

“No, no keep it there. I’m just— kinda you know, worked up.” I heaved as I kept eye contact with him. Those eyes, those honey brown eyes. Somehow the orange and yellow tendrils of hair complimented his eyes perfectly, encasing them in a warm, golden light. He was beautiful.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” His breath fans over neck slightly.

“Yeah, just not used to it.” I admit.

As far as sexual experiences went, I was dim in the subject. Yet, this was fueling a fire I never knew I had.

“Do you wanna stop?” Mingi asks as he’s pulling away.

“No! No I don’t want to!”

With that answer, Mingi was back to exploring what was exposed of my skin. Hands, finger tips, nails. I could feel everything as he lit each of my nerve endings on fire. Each swipe of his tongue left a burning trail in its path. “Fuck-“ I whispered internally, somehow finding my hands curled in his hair, entangling in the locks and pulling at the roots. The feeling of his lips on my neck made my stomach turn and twist with excitement.

How could this happen so fast? How was this really real? Was I dreaming?

No I couldn’t be dreaming. I could feel Mingi’s curious hands pushing up my shirt, folding the fabric upwards and letting it pool onto top of my breasts. Mingi pressed open mouthed kissed on my chest, tugging cheekily at the lining of my bra, teasing the nipple as he let it free. “Pretty.” Mingi’s voice vibrated against my skin, sending shivers down my entire being. Never in a hundred years could I explain myself and my behavior. I hadn’t been this kind of girl. Sure I partied and went a little crazy sometimes, but I had been strict with dating and sex. I never fucked on a first date. Hell, we had just met, never even went out. Renel would never believe me if I told her what was happening.

My brain was fuzzy as we continued in some sort of soft foreplay. His thick fingers had found their way down the front of my jeans, rubbing generously on my stiffening clit and entrance. My breath hitched as one found its way inside of me, petting at the spongy g-spot. I couldn’t keep my knees from buckling under that sort of pressure. I remembered stumbling around in an attempt to find something solid to hold onto, or at least steady myself on as he rid me of my clothes. I could remember removing his skin tight shirt and finally getting an eyeful of his sculptured physique. He was carved artfully as if by a woman with taste and experience. My hands explored his torso, slowly but surely making their way down my boxers. I ran a polished nail down the shaft of his throbbing cock, only to grab the entirety and grace it with a few passing pumps. His belt and jeans found themselves on the floor along with mine.

I had no time to feel the inevitable embarrassment. “Mingi-“ I moaned as he took the initiative to set me on the table, lips now working down my stomach and hips. A strong hand pushed gently on my chest and gestured for me to lay back and I followed with no hesitation. The icy sensation of the vinyl coating made me shiver, but I recovered as soon as his fingers hooked to the hem of my panties. My breathe caught in my throat, Mingi dragging the garment down my legs and letting them fall where they may.

“You’re sure you’re good with this?” He asked once more, looking down at me from his standing position. His eyes were soft and concerned but I could tell he was barely hanging on. His lids sat halfway across his iris, cutting off the light to his eyes. He looked dark and sexy, but alluring. The tattoos that weren’t apparent earlier were now proudly on display.

I only reeled back slightly at the sight of his miniature. Well, you could hardly call it miniature, but you know what I meant. The dick held itself proudly, the tip a dark pink and mushroomed, while the rod was stained a lighter hue, coursing with a few deliciously placed veins.

With as tender of intentions as possible, I reached to caress the decorated man’s chest and feel the heat emitting from the skin. He was as soft as satin, the feeling becoming addictive against my fingertips. His hands traveled to meet mine, bringing the appendage to his lips and leaving a few short kisses on the palm before holding it above my head. Our fingers intertwined as his other hand cradled the soft underside of my knee, pushing it upwards.

“I’m sure.” I said finally, eyes meeting his and he came closer, pressing gentle and reassuring kisses to my cheek and neck.

“Good,” he hummed.

Another blurry moment flashed as he said a few sweet things then continued to move his body. Soon enough I was in a comfortable position with a hand in his and one helping him push inside. My head fell backward as a silent sigh left my lips. Oh shit. “Oh Mingi-“ the words fell fluidly as he breached past my entrance. The stretch alone brought me back to reality, only to be pulled back into whatever sensual scene this was as he began to adjust. His breath was low but not indistinguishable, I could tell he was already feeling good. A second or so passed in silence until the pit in my stomach had grown twice it’s normal size.

“You can move.” I say, slight circling my hips. A pained hiss left Mingi’s plump lips. He takes the bottom in between his teeth and nods as his hips break their isolation

I felt as though my lungs had been palpated, deprived of air and squeezed to the brink. I felt like I was drowning but I couldn’t stop this. This was all too good. Mingi moved with a steady rhythm and intensity. His hands roamed my chest, poking and prodding at my breasts and using them for leverage for his powerful thrusts. I almost felt ridiculous as lewd noises leaked from my throat. My body shook with excitement and my voice was shaky with adrenaline.

“So cute. I can’t fucking stand it.” He growled next to my ear as he punctuated each word with a particularly sharp thrust. I couldn’t believe I had come here to accompany Hongjoon on a drunken tattoo venture, and ended up fucking the artist.

His motions grabbed me as wild, someone with experience in pleasure. Mingi’s body was following a natural progression as the bulbous head of his well endowed cock nestled against my cervix with each violent bash of our hips. A slight shake wracked my muscles and joints as the pressure and endurance of our position grew tiresome. I was exhausted but so ready to reach a peak with him. Coils tightened in my abdomen when Mingi’s voice sounded, moans and small grunts of praise echoed from him.

“Fuck-so good-“ he panted into my neck as his body curled around mine, encasing me in a lustful embrace. Mingi’s toned arms wrapped around my shoulders and waist while his forehead dropped to my collarbone. I could feel the change in angles as he hoisted my torso upwards to meet his, somewhat suspended in air. The erratic pace and movements of his hips reminded me of some crazed animal in heat. I felt the same way though. My body was craving each and every thing Mingi would give to me. His now harsh grips left marks on my skin that I wild find later; they’d bring back me memories of this night and how desperately I would be chasing a feeling like this again.

Creaks and screeches wailed from the legs of the table, yet Mingi couldn’t have cared any less. My arms gripped around his waist, in a way, propelling him forward. “Mingi!” My voice grew weaker in the moment. I was coming close.

“Mmm- fuck…” Mingi groaned against my skin, lips flattening to my chest and hair falling messily over my shoulder. I let my body speak for me as the intensity of his movements and brought me higher and higher. My walls closed around him, clenching in an effort to warn him that I was there. “Mingi! Uh! Gonna cum-“ I moan directly into the man’s ear, hoping to affect him the way I wanted to. “Mm- go ahead baby. You can cum.” His breath was hot as he lifted his head to face me, pressing a kiss to my lips as he quickened his pace. I couldn’t stop the chorus of moans, colored in shock as he pushed me over the edge.

I lay in waves of bliss. One surge after the other. If I was being honest, I had never cum first in any of my previous encounters. This was a once in a lifetime experience for me and I wasn’t going to lie, it was beautiful.

Mingi stalls briefly before sighing in satisfaction as he pulls out of me. My body immediately misses the weight of him inside of me, closing around nothing but air and slick ejaculat. My chest is heaving as I caught my breath, warm fuzzy feelings filling my body. Never had I ever had an orgasm quite like that.

It was soon interrupted at the sound of Mingi’s hand sliding over his still hard erection. I had been so caught up in my own pleasure that I forgot that he hadn’t cum yet. I peak downward at the beautiful man, his face scrunched a bit as he leans over my body. Without much thought I place my smaller hand in his. I can see a smirk forming on his lips as he allows me to help him rub his moistened dick. His eyes open slightly as we make contact, gazes holding intently as waves of pleasure flood his system. I never break eye contact as he reaches his final breath, our hands slow and a loud cry erupts from the man.

“Oh shit- oh fuck-“ Mingi mumbles quietly, forehead nudged to mine as he unloads on my stomach. I was quick to find Mingi’s jaw and yank his sight forward, our eyes meeting once again. “You’re so pretty.” I kiss him before he can answer my statement.

“Me?” He huffs confused. His string brow bone dips in concern of the comment. “Yes, you. You’re very pretty.” I reply, pulling him in for another kiss. “Thank you.” He says genuinely as heaves and tries to catch his breath.

——

“Soooo…. Do you still want that tattoo?” Mingi jokes as he holds the collar of my shirt open above me, placing it down over my head and resting it on my shoulders.

“I might have to take a rain check on that. I’m kinda tired.” My voice was hoarse and losing volume by the minute. A mix of drinking and calling his name for an hour would do the trick.

“Anytime, really. I do actually do tattoos. I swear. I’m not just a whore.” He laughs, looking down at me as I finish dressing myself and heave a sigh.

“I believe you.”

“Good. Do you think you’ll be back?” He questioned, flicking the light switch and opening the door for me. It was almost 5 am and I had no alibi for when Renel inevitably asks what kept me out so late. My cheeks flushed as I thought over the details. I might just tell her, just to see her reaction. If I knew anything about Renel, it was that she’d flip if I told her I fucked the tattoo guy.

“I’ll be back. For that tattoo and also… you know, if you ever wanna…” I led the the statement, looking down at my hands as he walked along side me towards the dorms. “I’m down. You know for tattoos… and… yeah.” He agreed. It was barely dawn, but I could tell his cheeks were as red as mine.

As soon as we reached my dormitory, I turned to face the man who had just made my night. I craned my neck upwards to face him. Gosh he was beautiful, especially in the light of the rising sun. “Thank you so much for tonight Mingi. And for walking me home.”

“Of course. Anytime, really. Have a good night.” He said gently.

“Or I guess morning. Have a Good morning.” He repeated. I chuckled slightly, placing a hand on his chest gingerly and pushing myself to stand on my tiptoes. I was hoping Mingi would get the idea and thankfully he did. His strong hands embraced me one last time as we shared a kiss. Nothing lustful or suggestive. A light, sweet, tender kiss.

“Have a good morning Mingi.” I said finally as we broke the kiss and I ran off towards the dorm doors.

“Tell me EVERYTHING!” A shrill voice echoed throughout the whole room as Renel surprised me at the door. My heart nearly burst out of my chest.

“Girl, sit down. You’re gonna love this!”

~The End~

#SoundCloud #song mingi #mingi #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #Ateez tattoo #Mingi’s a tattoo artist #fanfiction #smut #mingi smut #song Mingi smut #the song of from Alpha I’m sorry but I just really love this song for sexy situations I can’t help it #it’s just sex #fluffy #this is really only for Lisa

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sugartitstownley · 1 year

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HC’s for Post Option C Trikey

Hey, everyone! This is nothing too formal or well written— just some thoughts put down. All mistakes are mine because I didn’t reread this at all. Trigger warnings for mentions of violence and canon compliant themes. Here’s some Trikey + a bit of Amanda/Mike/T friendship.

Michael and Amanda’s divorce is rather amicable despite years of prior arguing.

Neither want to admit their marriage is over—both worried about the kids’ reactions. But they know it’s in everyone’s best interest.

Amanda moves out of the house, opting for a beach front property like she once asked Michael for months before.

Mike decides to stay at the house for now, even if it reminds him of what a lonely, washed-up jock he really is.

It doesn’t matter, though, because he’s never home. Instead, he spends his time at the movie studio, threatening actors and crew alike (because old habits die hard, right?).

If he accidentally hits too hard and the actor just doesn’t wake up…well, who can blame him?

The rest of his time is spent in the company of Franklin, Trevor, and Lamar.

“Jesus, sugar tits. You finally have time for us outside of kissing Solomon Richards’ ass.”

“Oh, bite me, T,” Michael says, rolling his eyes as he slides into the backseat of Franklin’s car. “I’ve been busy doing my job on set.”

“Well, sorry! I didn’t realize I was in the presence of a huge celebrity.”

Franklin slams on the brakes, the car coming to a halt in front of the stoplight. “Man, if y’all two don’t shut the fuck up, I’m dropping you both off.”

In hindsight, maybe things don’t seem that different between him and Trevor after The Big One. But he knows something has changed.

Trevor’s insults and quips don’t pack as much punch; they don’t leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

And Michael? Well, he stops regulates how many times he calls his former running buddy a psycho.

Their tentative friendship rebuilds for the most part, but there’s still an added component that neither party wants to speak aloud. That, or maybe it was a returning feeling resurfacing from their youth.

Either way, Michael tries to let it go and focus on making himself semi-happy for once. However, he doesn’t factor in until later that maybe he’s been so damn unhappy for the last 10 years because of a certain murderous, incest-loving hipster.

Michael feels his heart jump out of his skin as he turns around to see Trevor leaning against the glass outside of his house. He watches Trevor give a small salute before walking over to let the taller man in.

“You can’t knock on the front door like a normal human being?” Michael asks, his voice dripping with mild annoyance. “What am I saying? Of course you can’t.”

“For your information, pork chop,” Trevor starts, walking straight past Michael to look through his fridge, “I do this to keep you young— keep you on your toes.”

He watches Trevor pull out the soup container they made a few days prior while hanging out. Like a reflex, he opens the drawer and pulls out two spoons while they wait for it to heat up in the microwave.

“Yeah, whatever. What are you even doing here anyway?”

“Can’t a guy come see his best friend without there being a reason? Not all of us are looking to gain something from their relationships, sugar.”

Michael sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “God, T. When are you going to let it go? Just once I’d like to spend time with you without thinking of our past. I said I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Trevor’s eyes find his, and surprisingly, there’s nothing but understanding in them. They hold each other’s gaze a moment too long until the microwave’s beeps fill the quiet room.

Their companionship settles into a routine that even surprises Michael himself. Food will be cooked together, movies will be watched, bikers will be shot (you can’t blame Mike for getting involved sometimes most times— it’s in his blood).

The taller man’s presence becomes so normal in Michael’s life that even Jimmy and Tracey aren’t surprised to see Trevor walking throughout the house when they’re visiting.

If Michael didn’t know any better, he’d say the kids even missed their uncle— enough to visit the Rockford Hills house even when Mike himself wasn’t there.

“Argh! This game fucking sucks!”

Michael’s lips twitch into a small smile as he heads up the stairs towards Jimmy’s room. The sight in front of him doesn’t surprise him all that much considering Trevor’s cursing could likely be heard from across the street.

Michael stops at his son’s doorway, watching him and Trevor furiously tapping on controllers to try and shoot the on-screen targets.

“Uncle T,” Jimmy pipes up, cringing at the screen. “You’re standing too close to the bomb, you’re going die if you don’t—”

The blood of Trevor’s character splatters across the screen before Jimmy starts laughing uncontrollably.

“Shut the fuck up, kid! C’mon, Mikey. Let’s go do something actually worth our time.”

Michael chuckles, reaching over to fist bump Jimmy, before leaving the room with Trevor.

He’s not sure when it happened—or why— but every time he looks at Trevor and his kids while they’re together, he can’t help but think of them as a family.

Sure, Trevor is already family. His kids call him Uncle T for a reason. But that’s not what Michael means. He sees them as his family. Trevor, Michael, Jimmy, and Tracey— a family.

It could be the people of Los Santos getting inside his brain with their comments and assumptions. Every time the pair go out with the kids, there’s at least one person who calls them a “two-dad family.”

For some reason, though, it doesn’t bother Michael like it used to. He doesn’t feel guilty anymore, like he’s cheating on Amanda.

After realizing that, it hit him harder than Martin Madrazo’s baseball bat. He loves Trevor. He’s in love with Trevor, and he probably always has been. Why else would he feel like he’s doing something wrong to Mandy every time he’s with him?

He doesn’t want to even think about telling his friend, but he also knows he wants to be done keeping secrets from him forever. And apparently, he’s done keeping secrets from everyone.

“Dad,” Jimmy starts off nervously from his side of the couch. “So, like, can I ask you something?”

Michael shoots him a weary look. “If this is about me buying you that new game, I already told you no Jim.”

“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s more, ya know, personal.”

The silence drags on as Michael waits for Jimmy to continue, but he never does. “Spit it out already.”

“Look, are you and Uncle T, like, closer than you were before the divorce? You know, closer. Because, like, that’s totally cool with me. I have gay friends now, and I guess it’s better than you staying with mom and cheating. Maybe you and uncle T can, ya know, keep each other alive and shit but—”

“What? Jim! No! Trevor and I aren’t…”

Jimmy interrupts him. “But you want to be?”

“When did you get so observant all of a sudden? You sound like a fuckin’ psychologist.”

“Well, pop, you raised me in Los Santos.”

Jimmy, much to Michael’s embarrassment, prodded at him until he agreed to talk to Trevor about the “issue.”

It takes Michael another month, plus one more terribly uncomfortable conversation with Jimmy, to confess to Trevor.

“Christ, T. I think it’s possible that maybe…”

“I’ll be dead by the time you finish your sentence, sugar.”

Michael sighs. “Have you ever thought that there might be more to this?”

“More—” Trevor groans. “Can you just say what you mean for once in your life?”

“I love you, you asshole.”

Horns honking and police sirens can be heard from outside as the room becomes eerily quiet. Before Michael can truly panic, Trevor leans forward so fast that Mike’s sure he’s about to slam his head into his nose, but the searing pain never comes.

Instead, Trevor’s lips push against his while his hands tug Michael’s hair to bring him closer.

It’s cliché. It’s really fucking cliché. But, for once, Michael feels like he’s doing something right for a change.

“I love you, Mikey.”

After that, not much changes really. The only difference is that, now, when Trevor comes over after a long day of doing God knows what, Michael gets to sit on the couch wasting away with his boyfriend’s head lazily rested on his shoulder.

Or, sometimes, between his legs.

Telling Franklin and Lamar ended up being easy. Neither was all that surprised. In fact, Lamar even tried to start a bet once about when they’d “stop sucking as people and start sucking each other,” but Franklin put a stop to that real quick.

Other than that, Frank was supportive.

“I’m happy for you, dog. Maybe now you’ll stop being so miserable.”

Michael smirks. “I don’t know, but I think this is a good start.”

Telling Amanda and the kids was…interesting.

Jimmy, of course, knew already. But he was surprised that his dad actually grew the balls to do it.

Tracey was a little more shocked; she always thought the jokes about her dad and Uncle T were just that— jokes. Plus, she worried that her dad had been cheating before with him, but they assured her that wasn’t the case.

Tracey tried to act a little stubborn just in case her mom wasn’t okay with the relationship, but she was secretly happy for them.

Amanda, having found her own happiness outside of Michael, took it rather well too.

“This just started, right? You weren’t…together…during our marriage?”

“No, Mand,” Michael reassures her before sparing a glance at Trevor who is across the room talking to Tracey and Jim. “I only just realized it.”

“Well, I always wondered why on Earth you would stick by his side through some of the shit he has done,” Amanda says, her voice growing softer. “And now I know.”

Michael lets his gaze move back to his ex-wife’s. “I’m sorry I was such a prick to you.”

“I wasn’t perfect either.”

He’s about to respond when he feels a hand land on his shoulder. He looks up to see Trevor hovering above him while looking at Amanda.

“Hey,” Trevor points a finger at her. “You better accept his apology or I’ll be hearing about it for the rest of the year.”

Michael watches Amanda actually crack a smile towards Trevor. “He was always really miserable. But, lucky for me, he’s your problem now.”

Michael scoffs. “Hello, I’m right here!”

“Yeah, we know. It’s hard to miss you, pork chop.”

Despite Trevor’s remarks, Michael can hear the man’s smile as he walks back over to join Tracey and Jim, and that makes the sides of his lips curl into a small smile too.

“I’m not going to say I understand it completely,” Amanda admits. “But if you’re happy, then I’m glad.”

“I am. I think I finally am.”

#trikey #michael de santa #michael townley #trevor philips

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muu-kun · 1 year

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𝐔𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

Spice: Ashwagandha (ssssh we're counting it). Ashwagandha is one of the most highly regarded and commonly used herbs in Ayurveda. As an adaptogen and a rejuvenative, ashwagandha brings its nourishing, revitalizing qualities deep into the body, making it ideal for many uses, from the adrenals to the immune system, muscles, mind, and more.

Weather: Winter days where the sun is at its highest peak.

color: I wouldn't pick one singular color to associate with Muu. Rather, I'd so more so describe him as a Crayola watercolor set. Not the best, most luxurious set of colors to pick from, but the familiarity that comes with the territory of untampered nostalgia and youth keeps you coming back for a taste of your own every time.

Sky: Overcast, but with enough beautiful sunlight to really heighten the fact that silver linings are always around us.

Shoe: A withered pair of faded yellow rainboots that can never quite make their way into the trash due to the immense sentimental value.

House plant: Gaillardia Goblin Flower. Again we are cheating in regards to this not being what one would truly consider a house plant, the meaning and inspiration taken from his conversations with his friend Alex of @dis--parity make it our honorary pick nonetheless.

Weapon: It is meant to be as unconventional as it sounds-- teeth.

Subject: Sociology

Social media: Tiktok

Makeup product: Concealer. Masking beyond the manner associated with keeping his autism out of the spotlight.

Candy: Organic lollipops. They remind him of old times, yet the drive for health compels him to make better choices. Including even in the case of something admittedly based on fulfilling an unmet need centered on an oral fixation triggered by anxiousness and uncertainty.

Fear: Gerascophobia-- the fear of aging.

Ice cube shape: Those little jaggedy pieces collected from a bag of ice hitting pavement. Visibly, it holds up unsatisfactory in comparison to its prior state; however, it serves a purpose regardless. And that it can resume wholeness nonetheless by addressing the roots from which he arrived from.

Method of long-distance travel: Party bikes. Can't really get around without a support team. And plus he's always just really loved the idea of being invited to many, many parties growing up.

art style: Work done by his favorite tiktok artist by far as is-- Anna Laura of annalaura_art.

Historical period: I would scratch that and pick time period as is by making my choice pre creation of man, or creature. Simply just the evolution of single cell organisms into well beyond that.

Mythological creature: Jackalope. Not for any real reason beyond the fact that his healing mantra has simply become the song from the animated short Boundin'. He's the sheep of his own story for the time being, but he'd ideally like to become the jackalope in everyone else's.

Piece of stationery: Handpainted wood carved pens. More specifically the tackiest animal or otherwise novelty themed ones of the bunch. Each one made up of personality to go everywhere creativity takes it.

Three emojis: 🥺🤗🙊

Celestial body: No less than the sun itself. The belief he derived from its rays has yet to falter. He was never meant to be more akin to the moon.

stolen from: @tximidity and @nvrcmplt

#; ♡ ; headcanons

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recurring-polynya · 2 years

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Hirata Sasori - did Rukia ever invite her to tea as she resolved to do during her makeup training with Yumichika? How is the 11th enabling her love of sharp things? Does she have a collection of sharp things? Potentially funny/horrifying if it can be included: how much is Byakuya aware of her and what sorts of opinions does he have of her and/or her sharp things?

(for those who don’t obsessively read my fanfic, Hirata Sasori is one of my bit characters; she’s a noble friend of Rukia’s, whom Rukia “accidentally” helped join the Eleventh against her parents wishes. She tends to show up in crowds when I write Kuchiki party scenes. She’s built like a fridge, but is very femme and when she turns up, her hair/make-up/clothes game is 💯. I have never quite come out and said it, but she and Rukia definitely used to make out in the hedge maze when they were younger)

Hirata had a few scattered mentions throughout What We Do with Our Hearts, actually! She and Rukia socialize quite a bit, in part because they are friends, because it helps checks the box of Good Noble Daughter Who Has a Full Social Schedule and Maintains Relations with Other Houses, and I’m sure they found some time to hang out (I would also believe that Rukia took Hirata for coffee, because Hirata seems like a person who would enjoy coffee)

Life at the Eleventh has actually restricted the number of sharp objects Hirata usually has at her disposal. She comes from a branch of the Kasumiohji clan, the family from the Captain Amagai filler arc who produce high-quality (occasionally magical) weaponry. Prior to joining Squad 11, Hirata was a generalist who prided herself on being able to fight with every weapon her family produces. Although her father is kind of overbearing and limited her activities significantly, she did a lot of teaching and training other people, and giving her opinion on prototypes.

As (I imagine) sometimes happens with people who are already Fighting Professionals who join the Gotei mid-career, her zanpakutou spoke to her right away. It’s a naginata, a perfectly good Squad 11 melee-type, where her special attacks are like, “hit, but with knockback” or “hit, but with extra damage.” It’s honestly pretty disorienting for her to have to work on deep-diving with one specific weapon, but she’s doing a lot of personal growth, too, on the person she never got to be at home. She’s also very good at using her zanpakutou in its sealed, katana form, and switching up between sealed and shikai forms depending on whether she needs reach or mobility more. She also always has at least six knives of varying size on her person at any given time.

Being both highly educated, experienced at business, and good at teaching, she got promoted to Sixth Seat right away. Even though she and Renji are pretty different people, she somehow fills the weird ecological niche that he carved out in the Eleventh, the person who approaches training from an orderly, almost nerd-like perspective, who values taking care of their body so that they will be able in inflict increasingly horrifying amounts of damage to it, who takes a lot of joy in helping their subordinates reach their potential, and who is absolutely deadly with a tube of eye liner.

Byakuya knows her on sight and knows that she is friends with Rukia, but he’s never exchanged more than pleasantries with her. Now, if you were to ask one of the Kuchiki Aunts their opinion on Hirata, they would say, “oh, that girl is so improper! Caring about weapons! Uninterested in attracting men! A terrible influence on Our Rukia!” Byakuya is more like, “she has a good last name and dresses properly and could pass even a really hard etiquette quiz, 👍👍, A+++, good friend for Rukia.” Rukia even told him that she joined the Gotei (but not which squad), which raised his estimation of her even more. There was a bit at the very end of Hearts where Byakuya sees her chatting with his impressionable teen cousin at a party and thinks to himself “ah, yes, what a good influence, this is Good, Actually.”

Yeah.

#i spent like an hour today trying to name her zanpakutou and then gave up #sorry hirata #if you ever need to use it on screen i promise i will come up with something #'sasori' means 'scorpion' btw #because she was mildly influenced by scorpia from she-ra back when i first made her up #if she ever decides she wants a tattoo and renji takes her to his place #she and tenryuu are going to be the (literally) biggest pair of uhaul lesbians you have ever seen #polynya ocs

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girlreviews · 1 month

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Review #382: Currents, Tame Impala

Yet another album coming up on ten years old that forces me to reckon with the fact that I too am also almost ten years older than when it came out. They took five years to put out another! By the time they did that we were in the throes of a pandemic. So a lot happened. I had a lot of different haircuts. A lot.

It’s another breakup album. It came out the year I got married. I’m now divorced. It’s been pretty interesting revisiting this record, because my ex-husband and I were super into it. Everyone was, at least everyone who liked alternative music and wore flannel and tiny hats. Whatever iteration of hipster was hanging around East Nashville in 2015, they were playing it in every bougie coffee shop and thrift store. So it fell out of favor for me after a while, I got a little sick of it.

I had actually just seen them live a few years prior, right before moving Stateside. In Australia of all places, where they are from! At a festival called Groovin’ the Moo, in Canberra. I was there on a WILD ride, with a guy I met in London at a NYE party at the Ukrainian embassy (????) through a mutual friend who was dating my bestie. He and I hit it off, stayed up all night doing drugs, talking mad shit, and having a great time. Mans is moving back to Australia in three days. Oh well. Never mind. Nope, four months later I’m there visiting him. This was quite literally bananas, but really fucking fun — also a fucking disaster. It was like we were falling in love, getting together and breaking up all at the same time. The absolute fucking antics we get up to on this trip. We are invited to a house party, and are so drunk before arriving we accidentally break into THE WRONG house trying to attend. We wake up one morning in our room with the bed completely wonky, two legs snapped on it, potato chips absolutely fucking everywhere, all over the bed, floor, surfaces, and there’s just a pug dog snuffling around eating them all. Do not know whose dog it was to this day. Attend this festival, remember absolutely nothing about it other than seeing Tame Impala, return to the UK with a gnarly sunburn, a powerpuff girls pillow bought as a forget-me-not and a plastic frog table marker stolen from a pizza joint. If it doesn’t sound romantic, it’s because it shouldn’t. But we were in LOVE! It was a fucking disaster and it ended quite badly and I arrived in America a broken hollow shell of a woman. This honestly cracks me up. This is exactly the kind of bullshit you’re supposed to pull in your twenties, everyone. And Tame Impala is the exact right soundtrack for it, psychedelic pop rock weirdness. It was their prior album Lonerism that scored that particular moment, with the most prominent track for me being appropriately titled It Feels Like We Only Go Backwards. Teehee.

Anyway, it’s a few years later, I have my shit together a bit now, I’m getting married or already am, and here comes Tame Impala with Currents. It seems like Kevin Parker maybe had some love adventure of his own and he’s gotta get it off his chest, he’s got some feelings. Here’s what I love about this record, and it’s gonna sound like I’m ripping on it, but I’m not. The lyrics, they’re really pretty… What word am I looking for here. They lack sophistication and depth. Man really just says what he would say to his bros when he’s trying to say how he feels about his relationship ending. They’re simple. They’re rudimentary. They’re clumsy. But they’re perfect. Are we poetic when we are messy in a breakup? Do I sound like I was poetic in any shape or form on potato chip pug hangover day? No. It is what it is. There were multiple different KINDS of potato chips, guys. It’s like we thought we were sowing potato chip seeds to grow a little garden. The pug got his head stuck in a bag for a hot second. You can’t make it what it isn’t. It’s a damn mess. But you CAN make the music and sound emote. And that he does, magically and wonderfully, carrying the lyrics. It works together so well. It’s a journey.

Let it Happen, first of all, I challenge you to run to this. It’s almost eight minutes and is great for keeping pace (I have mentioned my running playlists are wild and I’m not kidding). A friend pointed out to me this past weekend that something I tend to gravitate towards in songs — and they’re right — is ones that evolve and take you on a trip. The end of the song is unrecognizable from the beginning. I love that. This is one of those. It also just fucking slaps. Great start.

Eventually and Less I Know The Better are prime examples of the sonic mastery and lyrical lacking just sort of working. They’re also the most obvious breakup tracks and those simple words are what make it so god damn relatable:

“She said it’s not now or never

In ten years we’ll be together

I said better late than never

Just don’t let me wait forever

Don’t let me wait forever”

Past Life. FUCK, this song is so fucking good it’s so fucking DIFFERENT. Can’t even speak on it, just go stick it on and vibe your ass off, okay?

Disciples is my absolute favorite. For a few reasons. I also love me a short track. But this one is SO fun to sing, and it’s so chirpy and upbeat for a song that’s basically about telling someone you used to care for that they’re a shitty person now (“now it’s like the world owes you, walking around like everybody should know you”). By the way, have you ever done that, told someone you loved that you officially think they suck now? Interesting experience. Not sure whether I recommend it or not to be honest, maybe one of those things that you’ve gotta try on for yourself to see if it’s for you. But anyway, also there’s just some really great steering wheel slap moments of bass and percussion that make me want to DIE and ASCEND from this mortal plain to wherever this song was born from. I said what I said.

If not for Disciples, there’s no question that my favorite track would be ‘Cause I’m a Man. I still remember driving my friend Brittney home in my Lincoln LS, and she was like, you gotta hear the new Tame Impala track. I honestly was not impressed. But she was so animated, and made me listen over and over until I got it. This is a rare song for me, because even now I like it more with each listen. It’s not a surprise, since it’s about his own self reflection on how shitty men are, how they’re always just making sad little excuses for why they don’t measure up to women, and are always letting us down. He does a good job, he really does (“Cause I’m a man, woman, I’ll never be as strong as you”). But, throughout the song he makes these kind of lazy, semi-sexual “uh!” noises and they’re honestly hilarious. They just really add something. I can’t explain why. It’s sort of a nice touch of self depreciation that I truly appreciate.

It’s a one of a kind record, really. It was different from their previous, and their follow up didn’t match it. They have a new single out with Justice and I’m told it’s very good. I saw them again in 2022 at a festival in Barcelona, much less wild and drug fueled than my previous go around (I’m in my thirties now, who has the energy). The sound was bad and my feet hurt, BUT Kevin Parker did us all a solid and covered Last Nite by The Strokes which cheered us all up, because they got COVID and pulled out last minute. Ah well, Julian’s a creep anyhow and could never write something as self aware as Currents. He’s still hitting on teenage girls in his late forties. Kevin Parker, I better not find you pulling the same shit or I will be coming for you and it will be ugly.

#album review #music #music review #rolling stone top 500 #tame impala #currents

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triviareads · 1 year

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Wicked Again by Kathleen Ayers

The best historical romance I've read with an older couple and that too, the heroine is older than the hero by nine years (she's 49, he's 40). Marissa and Haddon have a fling at a house party except, well, Haddon wants more than a fling and is basically in love by the time Marissa has to leave the house party after finding out her late husband was actually murdered and didn't disappear several years ago.

Two things I loved about this book: First, the plot of this story is centered around REVENGE (not *revenge*) and I looooove a good revenge plot. It's even more special to me because female vengeance is very underrated in HR and I'm all for Marissa (aided by her niece) destroying a rising political star and his mom because they had her husband killed.

The other thing I loved about this book is that Marissa isn't caught up by the guilt of being an older woman who still wants sex, which a lot of HR tends to fall into the trap of, especially where not-married women and older women are concerned. And make no mistake, Haddon and Marissa are HOT. Like, insanely hot. Literally from the first scene where they're together at the aforementioned house party. There's a growing trend of historical romances with older women, but this is by far the best I've read.

The Theory of Earls by Kathleen Ayers

We're in our artistic era this month. Margaret is a pianist so talented that it borders on wanton for the Victorians. She wants to make a match on her own terms so she can continue to play and settles on a deeply inoffensive man who happens to be a friend of the hero Anthony (Tony), Lord Welles. Welles offers to help her catch his friend if she plays the piano for him in just her chemise and stockings. As a musician, this one managed to hit all the HR musically-titillating notes for me: he's hard when she performs, he's a gifted pianist too, there's piano fingering, piano oral, piano ruination, etc. Also, it's genuinely lovely to read about two people who are this stirred by one another AND Chopin.

I will say, Kathleen made Tony's mommy and daddy issues run so deep (among other things he has a Simon Basset-esque desire to not reproduce out of spite for his dad), he said something I was NOT expecting an HR hero to say at a particularly low moment. Did he fully redeem himself? idk but the reunion was hella hot.

Anyway, go listen to Jan Lisiecki's rendition of Chopin's Piano Concerto No. 1 and read this book asap (start from 4:40ish):

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A Rogue's Rules for Seduction by Eva Leigh

I'd the two prior books in this series and gotten acquainted with Dom Kilburn (see: here) so I was READY for his and Willa's book ever since the first book started with Dom jilting Willa. In this book, their relatives and friends basically isolate them at a house party to try and get them to make up.

What I liked about this book was that plot-wise, there really isn't much going on beyond Dom and Willa grappling with their complicated feelings for one another and figuring out a way forward, if there is any. For ex-lovers, Dom and Willa are deeply, deeply aware of one another to the point where you wonder why, with this level of chemistry, Dom ever decided to jilt Willa. But here's the thing, apart from the misplaced sense of guilt on Dom's part, they both realizing they were using each other to basically shock their respective segments of society (he got a woman far beyond him socially, and she got a man who was basically her bit o' rough) which... doesn't make for a strong foundation.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the sex stuff, most of which occurs at their host's, uh, there's no better way to put this than "fuck cabin". Willa is the type of heroine who is very self-sufficient and a little closed off, so a mark of trust for her is her handing over the reins to Dom, so to speak. And it goes both ways, resulting in this give-and-take that is hot and also like, genuinely gratifying to read in historical romance. Dom reminds me a lot of Sarah MacLean's Duke of Clayborn and Joanna Shupe's Duke of Lockwood in that he's a hero who's respectful and almost reverent of the heroine, but also, he isn't afraid to get down and dirty.

After Hours on Milagro Street by Angelina M. Lopez

Let me say this outright: it was a combination of snobbery towards books that are "too popular" and a mild aversion towards magic that kept me from reading this book sooner. And I've never been happier to be proven wrong. This book had everything: a small town, a mystery centered around the history of the town, family drama, the magic was based in the culture, and of course, the romance.

Alex is the kind of heroine some people will write off as "annoying" or "unlikeable", but you understand where she's coming from pretty quickly: She's frustrated with being a woman in the bar industry, with the "angry/sassy brown woman" stereotype she feels forced to play into to a degree, and with being forced to leave her hometown basically due to the racism she wouldn't stand for. So it makes sense why she's initially very skeptical of Jeremiah, a white man, wanting to "save" her grandmother's bar, a cornerstone of the Mexican-American community in her Kansas hometown.

The sex is also pretty damn great. If there's one thing Angelina loves, it's writing a *mounting* moment the first time the hero and heroine meet (see: Lush Money) and that's basically what went down here. It was GREAT. Also, they're both talkers during sex (I believe they were talking through their shared wall while masturbating??) but it was dirty and sweet at the same time which was novel for me, but it worked. I absolutely would recommend.

That Scandalous Evening by Christina Dodd

Back to artistic HR: This is the book @jeanvanjer was trying to get me to read for a year, and finally succeeded this month (here are my reactions live-blogged). Jane, the heroine of the book, is back in society after her exile caused by a fellow debutante exposing the nude sculpture she did of her crush Ransom, Lord Blackburn. Now Ransom and Jane are kinda forced to court because of Societal Reasons as well as Ransom's suspicions that she's a French spy (you idiot), and also, well, because he definitely wants to.

The chemistry between these two is everything. I came in with the assumption that Jane's crush when she was younger was one-sided but LET ME TELL YOU, IT WAS NOT. And that scene was WILD to read. Jane is resilient and her passion for art is both adorable and hilarious because she primarily conveys her horniness through the art (e.g. she's worried she didn't get his nipples right when this man is stripping in front of her). Ransom is a BITCH, specifically in that way historical romance heroes were written in the late '90s and early 2000s (Dain from Lord of Scoundrels comes to mind) where they have far fewer scruples when it comes to what they do with the heroine (aka, fuck honor). You want your bitchy, self-involved, tormented hero, here's your man. You want this intense, borderline weird sexual chemistry (like there was a melding of bloodied hands before he went down on her??), here's your book.

#trivia's book round-up #kathleen ayers #eva leigh #angelina m lopez #christina dodd #historical romance #contemporary romance #Youtube #book recs

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bleubourbon · 1 year

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I almost started throwing shit today and telling everyone what I really think

We talked about a calm and peaceful Christmas. But a month ago my Aunt ended up in the hospital. Several states away. She's been sick for no less than 2 years and has refused to go to the Dr. She had been taking massive amounts of Imodium. It was no longer working. She couldn't stand up without it not working. She and my Uncle left for their winter local anyway. Their WI ter local where no one is. No family or friends to help if they are in trouble. We'll it all hit the fan and surprise, she has cancer and is not able to travel home. I will spare the details but my Aunt and Uncle are in the running for a Darwin award.

All this is hitting my Mom hard because she has NO control. She HAS to have control. She calls it she can't ' help' but really she can't be there yelling at everyone and making a scene because her health won't allow it. But she talks to her brother nightly, and he apparently can't be bothered to get a notebook to write down the Dr names or what meds they want to prescribe his wife. Nope not heartless I am pissed at the stupidity. He literally said oh its another thing for me to carry.

Dude, if you want my sympathy because you love your wife so much, and now someone told you she is dying because apparently you were too stupid to notice before now, try not to tell me that carrying a fucking notebook to take notes about her care is too much for you!

He actually expects his sister, my mother, to take and maintain the information for him. My mother is not a well woman.

I know she wants to support him but fuck HE WANTS HER TO JUST DEAL WITH IT FOR HIM. HE COULDNT HELP HIS OWN MOTHER AND LEFT IT ALL ON MY MOTHER WTF

This brings us to Christmas. About 3 weeks ago my Mom decided our quiet 3 person Christmas was now a party.

She wants to have her niece over to give her something happy while her mother I so ill.

Saint, right?

Queue 3 weeks of how hard life is trying to get ready for party

3 weeks if what I have to do for party

3 weeks of my husband bitching that my cousin will bring her boy friend he hates to Christmas. Which includes 3 weeks of I'm not going

All while I must work to pay all our bills which include about $700 of beer a month and another couple hundred of cash back from grocery shopping to be used on scratch off lotteries

Did I mention I work in the 7th circle of Hell?

So we had the party. I got yelled at randomly for the sin of asking a question while my Mom was walking. Not a "wait I need to finish waht I was doing" A basic how can you be so fucking stupid as to ask me where something is in my house while I am walking through the kitchen. I got yelled at because I could not produce shredded cheddar cheese from one of the fridge bins. It wasnt there. I started to look in the other and got screamed at because I was looking in the wrong bin why wasnt I listening? She just sat down!!! Cheese was in the bin I was looking in. I got attitude for that. I did not move the cheese BTW.

There was some other drama that resulted in me being told that this is why one should always start early in case things go wrong (apparently I started something late). Don't remember what as I think I've begun to dissociate

People loved the party. I didn't put stuff away quick enough which I was passive aggressively told in front of some of the guests.

Also - this is the coldest Christmas in 30 years means. All the presents had to be distributed prior to Xmas because we may get snow ( we didnt) but basically, xmas morning was nothing. Just I got up late, and I didn't tell Mom that there is meat in Lasagne. So she had no meat. We talked. She got confused or forgot or whatever. She isn't having dangerous forgetfulness, just run of the mill she doesn't pay attention which is one of her lovable traits. Thank goodness the grocery store was open because the husband started bitching that I can't make lasagne with no meat. Vegetarians beg to differ Dear, but sure I will get dressed and run to the store in Xmas day.

Then I clearly didn't start dinner early enough. And my husband proceeds to tell I was using the wrong amount of sauce. Also my list of sins included:

Wanting to cook 2 boxes of pasta instead of one. Not getting a pot with a lid out for meatballs (we had meatballs, but I couldn't leave the meat out of the lasagne). He kept up a running commentary in the gas stove top as well.

I also had to help Mom operate Netflix because in 3 years, she still doesn't get it dispite multiple lessons and load pictures to Facebook, also 3 years and multiple lessons while making lasagne.

Cool cool - but I almost lost it

Everyone liked dinner. I did dishes.

And now the cable company is raising prices and I must read letter to figure it out. I 'made' her change cable plans. No no, my Dad died and I said she needed faster internet so if she needed me I could also work remotely at her house. I said I would pay. She won't take money. Cable compa y said - oh if you make changes you have to change everything (i.e. GOTCHA !! Pay us more that plan doesn't exist anymore and you can't just change your internet)

But yeah so now she has a plan price and the price increases are a la carte and not all components of her plan are in the a la carte list. So it's sorta impossible to see what the increase will be. It was determined that I HAD to read this tonight

Fuck I'm tired. And I don't know the answers but I really think a good scream is in order. Except that will wake everyone up and I don't have the energy to explain.

Merry Christmas

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lgbtatuf · 1 year

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Alejandra's participant observation

As a key component of my research, I conducted participant observation to get a better sense of the LGBTQ+ experience at UF. This included casual conversations with people, and observations from different events. The first enlightening conversation I had went as follows:

I got to speaking with the girl that sits next to me in one of my classes before class started. Though we only know each other from speaking for a few minutes before class starts every day, we typically have good conversations. She looked to be about my age and was wearing a crop top and shorts. Her hair was in space buns, and she has star shaped hair clips pinned to the side of her head. She was saying that one of her biggest issues with Ben Sasse was that she felt like his presence would lead to increased intolerance and homophobia. She said that she felt like the culture of the school felt relatively safe and accepting now, but that she was worried things would change once he became president. She said that she identified as bisexual and was worried for herself and her friends. From this I concluded that some LGBT individuals feel hostile towards Ben Sasse and are worried about what is to come.

Another insightful conversation is described below.

I was talking to my roommate, we were sitting in the kitchen of our apartment and got to having an interesting conversation. She mentioned how she rarely sees people she knows in person from campus or anything school related on dating apps. She recently switched her dating apps to just women and was surprised that she was seeming fewer people that she knew, as opposed to when she was seeing men on the app. She is not involved in many LGBT+ spaces, such as the Pride Student Union, and this could be a reason for this. After hearing this I hypothesized that because the UF campus and student body is so large, it may not be conducive to the fostering of a unified, singular community.

A third observation:

My friend said that he did not feel comfortable tailgating at the frat houses. I assume this is because they are perceived to be not the most diverse or welcoming group.

Described below is an unexpected insight.

I was warned against continuing text conversation with a man I had met at a party the night before by my friend. The man is a UF student. Part of the reason my friend told me I shouldn’t get to know him is that she had heard that he used the phrase, “that’s so gay” even though he is straight. From this I have concluded that much of the UF student body have no patience for intolerance.

As I was going about my daily activities I noticed this:

UF Gatornights has announced in their most recent Instagram post that they will be showing the hit movie, “Everything, Everywhere, All at Once” at the Friendsgiving Gatornights event on November 18th. Prior to this, there was an Instagram poll asking which movie should be shown at the next Gatornights. “Everything, Everywhere, All at Once” was the only movie on the options list featuring a gay main character and was the one that was ultimately chosen students. From this I have concluded that much of the student body as at the very least, tolerant, (if not supportive) of LGBTQ+ individuals.

A casual conversation with my friend gave me a very interesting perspective.

I had a movie night at my good friend’s apartment. When I got there, she began telling me about her day and how stressful it had been. She said that she attended a “Republican Club” meeting with her roommate because her roommate had contacts in the club from her business internship and therefore felt like she had to make an appearance. My friend said that she had naturally been reluctant to go to the meeting as she does not support this ideology but that it had been even worse than she thought it would be. She said that, aside from her, there has been no people of color or gay people at the meeting. She said during the meeting, she had felt very uncomfortable and angry. She said that by the end of it she was fighting the urge to flip everyone in the club off. She was horrified at the thought that her roommate might be secretly a republican. This depicts common student assumptions about the Republican parties views on LGBTQ+ members.

Finally I observed what I would believe to be one of the most important sources of information for this topic, the Pride Student Union. I observed the Pride Student Union’s Instagram profile and Instagram comments to get a sense of what the online community and dominant culture and sentiment are like:

The UF Pride Student Union’s Instagram is followed by many other student organizations and clubs, which I believe implies that these organizations, at the very least on the outside are supportive of the LGBTQ+ community. A few of the student organizations that follow @UFPSU are UF college democrats, UF Women’s Student Association, UF Hispanic Student Association, UF Gatornights, UF Hoopz, UF Rec Sports, UF Dominican Student Association, UF Hillel, and UF Inter-Residence Hall Association. This seems to indicate to me that UF Campus is largely supportive and inclusive of LGBTQ individuals across different groups. There are not many comments on most of the posts. The posts themselves are all. Very colorful and pretty and informative. The UF Pride Student Union’s bio says that it strives to “provide love and education to the LGBTQ+ community and its intersections.” This to me implies that the UF Pride student union is committed to diversity and strives to be a very warm and welcoming group of people to all.

#participantobservation

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recklxssabandon · 2 years

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Image of Tomorrow//Minami & Aja

@ajathings

It settled into Aja’s mind that she was, essentially, going on a tour. Other than seeing her mother’s hometown in Guinea, Aja had never left the states. She was eager to leave her Manhattan high rise and see the world, and much to her delight, the bill all fell on her employer. “Travel expenses,” they called it. They bought the tickets, they paid for the lodging, and in return for getting to put a few miles on her heart, she’d make the show of a lifetime.

Only a day had passed since Aja sent out her first emails, and based on the replies, she already had planned a two-week itinerary. The hungriest replied first. Some had agents, others replied on their own accord. They would be the first people Aja would see during the process–the eager ones.

Three days later, and Aja had taken her first flight, bound for Japan. As with all things related to her work, she tackled her tasks early, in hopes of either being finished ahead of schedule or at least being so early that there was no room for error. But she was never late. Aja arrived in Japan full three days prior to her meeting, packed for work, and for play. An army of pantsuits, a battalion of dinner dresses. Only a few casual outfits, and only a pair of night outfits. Whatever else she’d need, she’d buy.

By midday, Aja was settled into her hotel room. planning her next steps. Among the fourteen located in the special wards of Tokyo, Japan, the first meeting she had was with the first hopeful that replied: Minami.

Hello again,

I wanted to thank you for your interest in the exhibit. I’m currently in the area and I wished to confirm our meeting coming up. If everything is in order, I’ll see you in the next three days.

Aja

A less formal signature for a less formal e-mail. Legally, Aja couldn’t tell her that she was most-definitely in the show until the ink on the contract was, at least, somewhat dry. But, hopefully, it would ease whatever tensions the artist might have.

After studying Minami’s work, and falling in love with it all over again, Aja stepped away from her laptop and walked to the window, looking out over a Tokyo bathed in neon lights.

She smiled, chomping at the bit, ready to begin the tour.

The bar was busy and noisy. Ru toyed with her straw.

“You should have let me invite more people! This calls for a party or something!”

The fine sheen of body glitter on Ru’s shoulders made her glisten like an aged pearl, her hair was swept back and gelled and the halter dress she wore just accentuated the whole thing. Ru could have been lifted directly out of a fashion magazine in 2002, she had the cheekbones for it certainly.

“It’s not a sure thing yet.” The ice cubes in Minami’s drink clicked together. “And besides, I didn’t want to draw attention. Hinata’s been calling me again, I’m trying to avoid him.”

Ru’s shoulders rolled languidly. “Just give him what he wants, you’re very good at that.”

Minami shot her friend daggers but it melted into a wicked smile.

“I don’t know who you’ve been talking to.”

“I didn’t need to talk to anyone, I just asked you to come back to my house one afternoon and found out.”

Minami feigned shyness and kicked Ru under the table.

“But I’m serious. I need this to go smoothly. So if you see him you tell him exactly where I’m not, ok?”

Ru nodded and raised her glass.

“Alright, to the Met.”

The glasses clicked together.

The message came through on the way home. Minami had had Erica route everything through to her personal email so she could respond herself. Scanning the words filled her with more excitement than was normal for what was essentially a business email.

She began typing as she walked, trying not to bump into other people on the sidewalk, the whiskey she’d consumed possibly leaking into her tone just a bit;

Hello Aja

I’ll be available at my studio all tomorrow afternoon, and happy to talk through the work with you

Really excited to see what you think!

Thanks

Minami

Immediately after hitting send she reopened the email and examined the words again. Though quite what she was checking for she was uncertain. When she got home she was exhausted and slightly drunk but sleep did not arrive readily, so she picked out her outfit and stood back after laying it out on the sofa. Unusually, she did consider if it might be a little much...or not enough. A mental shrug quickly shook the idea, she dressed for no one but herself.

#ajathings #Image of Tomorrow

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ecoamerica · 25 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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theliterateape · 2 years

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The Personal Grievances That Fuel Ideology

by Don Hall

"So, have you always been a Republican?"

"Nah. I wasn't really political in my twenties."

"So something happened? What changed your mind?"

I was out and about, getting some sun, strolling—yes, strolling at a time and space in the world when strolling is in the same category as riding a Big Wheel—and talking to strangers on the Las Vegas Strip. He was a guy who seemed about my age, wearing a "Let's Go, Brandon" t-shirt, coming out of Treasure Island and looking around at the place in the way that someone who has come here to vacation and lose his house payment on a solo weekend. I laughed at his shirt. That started a conversation in the shade.

The way I describe my political affiliation these days is as a Classic Liberal which seems to align with anyone labeling themselves as a Fiscal Republican—both seeming to eschew the insane extreme ideologies while generally agreeing with the philosophies of Left and Right. I find far more of my GenX brethren to adopt this practice than either the generation prior or the two following.

"Nothing really changed my mind. My ex-wife was super liberal. I mean, that bitch was crazy and never stopped talking about all of her causes. Drove me nuts. I guess when we divorced, I started looking at the other side of things."

"I get that. What's with the shirt, though?"

"Oh," and he laughed. "That's just to piss off the kids."

"And your ex-wife?"

"If I ever saw her, yeah. I mean, fuck her, you know?"

When Jordan Peterson hit the news back in 2016, I found him interesting. Prior to his stance on the Act to amend the Canadian Human Rights Act and the Criminal Code (Bill C-16), passed by the Parliament of Canada to introduce "gender identity and expression" as prohibited grounds for discrimination, his work was clearly clinical rather than political. By the time I had heard of him, he was already seen by the Left as hopelessly rightwing, by the Right as hopelessly leftwing, and a cultish figure for the same young guys taken in by the work of Ayn Rand.

Self described as a "Classic British Liberal" I was interested to see how he went from his first book, Maps of Meaning: The Architecture of Belief, which combines psychology, mythology, religion, literature, philosophy and neuroscience to analyze systems of belief and meaning to the kind of figure you quote to 'piss of the kids.'

I'll confess I didn't wade very deep in the pool because this cat has hundreds of hours of what those same kids call 'content' and I have trashy streaming stuff to watch but I did take a day or two checking him out. What I surmise is that before his criticism of the Canadian government's push to effectively make the refusal to adhere to preferred pronouns as discriminatory practice, he was sort of like a Joseph Campbell but definitively on the left side of the fence. Then the videos surface of him arguing and being attacked by trans-activists hellbent on shutting him up.

My thumbnail conclusion was that his move to the right occurred as response to the insanity of the extreme left. These activists branded him a Nazi, it royally pissed him off, and he slowly shifted right to 'piss of the kids.' After time wearing his very Canadian version of a 'Let's Go, Brandon' t-shirt, the concept creep gradually shifted him to the right end of the bizarre cult of Libertarianism (which is a bit like Scientology if it was a political party).

Since coming to Vegas, certain friends and former acquaintances in Chicago have openly wondered why I am suddenly so vocally critical of the woke, cancel culture, the attempt to eliminate basic biology in our terms for one another, and my full-throated defense of free speech in all quarters. One person texted me "When did you become a Nazi?"

So, I asked myself "When did I become a Nazi?"

Chicago, 2016. She was an up and coming performer who routinely turned to me for advice. As a veteran in the field, I felt it was both my responsibility to be of help and my pleasure. She was raw but talented and truly excited about her future. I loaned her money, befriended her son (they both called me his ’second father’) and supported her when things turned sour in a relationship and she had a miscarriage. We became friends.

After some time, we drifted apart and she began to hang with a different crowd. When I decided that She had drunk a bit too much of the critical race theory and had become someone I simply didn’t want to hear from anymore, I decided to do the simplest thing possible—unfriend her on Facebook. I sent her a personal email to let her know why and wished her the best.

Two days later, the shit hit the fan. She had gone on a two-day tirade about what a racist, sexist piece of shit I was while I had her blocked on social media. She casually enlisted ex-girlfriends and a few notables who never liked me to begin with and, in my absence, trashed me with a vitriol only reserved for Guy Fieri and Pearl Jam. When I contacted her, she assured me none of the trolling and pitchforks would have been necessary if I had only called her.

Unfortunately, I thought that fighting back was the right move. I was wrong. The more I defended myself, the louder the online pillory. The more I went on the offensive, the more I cemented their framing of me as aggressive and toxic. People whom I worked with would tell me in confidence that She was batshit and that I was fighting the good fight but in public, my friends had knees of cream cheese and were so terrified She might come after them, they stayed silent.

Prior to this silly scuffle, I had told Her that I was white, therefore I was racist by default. I was all-in with the concepts of intersectionality and the tenets of critical theory. I was considered to be 'an ally' by many in the arts community, the guy who called out the overwhelming whiteness of public radio and the theatrical community. I was living with a Marxist and had a friendship with Bill Ayers. In terms not widely adopted for years laters, I was 'Woke AF.'

After this mêlée of pettiness, I started to question the concepts behind her indoctrination a bit more critically. I became skeptical when I read about another white man brought down and dove in a bit more thoroughly into the stories. I read a lot about the ideas I had been so in favor of just months before. I found the abuses of those ideas writ large. I saw patterns of cancellation that resembled my experience.

I became a Nazi to 'piss off the kids' who had pissed me off.

No, I'm not a freaking Nazi or even remotely conservative. The term changed sometime ago and any question of the tactics behind BLM or MeToo was received as the question of someone obviously in-line with the Nazi party. It's the new linguistic game being played by the Rage Profiteers of the modern age and anyone who gets in their way becomes a target.

In my final days in Chicago, I was considered to be somewhere near the alt-right end of the spectrum. During my three years in Vegas, I'd guess I'm seen as a centrist. I'm moving to Kansas where I'll be seen as a full-on libtard. Few of my core beliefs—equal protection under the law, protection of free speech, universal healthcare, free college, funding public education equitably, and legalizing all recreational drugs—have changed. The framing based on location and personal experience has shifted.

This reflection makes me wonder about the ideological labels we embrace or are placed upon us. Is it a belief based on knowledge or a personal grievance expanded into a philosophy? Did David Mamet go from über-liberal to arch-conservative because he grew older, got richer, or had some personal experienced that started as annoyance and slowly became a radical transformation of his ideas?

The questions are accomplishing something I believe we all need these days—curiosity about my fellow citizens rather than condemnation. When I see someone openly advocating for defunding the police, instead of assuming they're too stupid to see how adversely that affects the urban, black communities they are striving to aid, I stop and try to find out what happened to them personally that solidified that position. When I encounter someone still in thrall with the Big Lie regarding the last presidential election, in lieu of rolling my eyes and deciding they're to ignorant to even bother, I'll attempt to find out what specifically happened to them that nudged them over to complete moron territory.

My guess is that an awful lot of people adopt these extreme ideologies to piss someone in their lives off because they felt wronged.

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myentiretruth · 2 years

Text

The Entire Story

6/19/2022 - 2:06pm

What happened? More than I could possibly say, but I’ll try to get it all out. 6 days ago I lost my entire world. I felt like a wildfire had ripped through my life, coming from nowhere, lit by no one, and it burned down every house and killed every person. In the last 6 days, I’ve discovered who it was lit by, who controlled it all along, and what I did that released it like a monster onto a bustling city in a pop culture film.

6 days ago I discovered my boyfriend cheated on me. One moment I thought things were fine. I was brainwashed into thinking things were fine. Every fight was decontextualized by love bombing, every lie buried with four more, every problem blamed on me. After a weekend bender of drinking, my 30-year-old boyfriend woke up in another woman’s apartment. I saw his location ping there at 5:45am while I was at work that morning, stocking the fridges. I screenshotted it, and confronted him with it later. He lied to me several times: “I slept at home last night,” “You’re caught me, I didn’t sleep, I partied all night,” “I went home with a friend and slept but nothing else happened.” Frustrated with his lies, seeing him in a new light, concerned there was more, I reached out to his friend on Instagram. We can call her Kate. I’d met Kate once a year prior while I was in Dallas, where my boyfriend lived. We met at a brunch of maybe 10 people, mid-pandemic (I know, I wasn’t happy about it either). My boyfriend never wanted me to talk to his friends, citing privacy and respect as the reason, and I’d soon learn that he kept his friends and family from reaching out to me either for the same reasons.

I messaged Kate on Instagram. I typed out a message, explaining the situation and asking, girl-to-girl, if she could give me piece of mind. Tell me he wasn’t cheating. But she couldn’t, in fact, she told me he told her months ago that we were not together anymore. Months ago. Weeks ago. Even Yesterday. He swore up and down to her that we were broken up. My world fell. I couldn’t understand. I was at my job, hysterically crying, trying to understand what happened. Why did he think that was okay? How could he justify such lies?

In the weeks before we had discussed me moving across the country to be with him, changing my entire life to join his. Marrying him. Even just a week before he professed how much he wanted to marry me, have babies with me, and grow old. I was his other half, his partner in crime. He loved me so much, right? I believed him. I loved him. I’d do anything for him. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, just that I wanted what he wanted.

A week before we broke up I had come to him telling him I was insecure. We didn’t talk as much anymore, he was out drinking all of the time. I didn’t feel like he loved me anymore. With all the lies he told that I was unaware of, he sat there and told me that he was sorry he hadn’t been paying as much attention to me. He told me he’d try to do better, to call me more, that it was important to him. He told me that he loved me.

The weekend before this we fought. Our fights had been getting worse. He went out to a bar and texted me that there were prostitutes there hitting on him and his friends. I was angry. He’s a wealthy man in his 30s, why is he at this bar? Why did he even tell me this was going on? He said it was a joke, that the prostitutes were funny, but I told him that it wasn’t funny to me. Again, why was he even there? He’d told me previously he didn’t see prostitutes as women at all, not “real” women, anyway. He told me I was insecure for not being happy he was there, and we didn’t talk for two days. Usually after these fights he wins me right back. Never apologizes, but showers me with so many pretty words and love and blaming until I think it’s my fault or forget it ever happened . That didn’t happen this time, because he cheated.

At home after leaving my job early I confronted him over the phone. After a few calls, he admitted to cheating. Adamant it was only kissing before he passed out drunk, but cheating nonetheless. He cried over the phone. I never heard him cry before. He almost never cried. But he was caught. He tried to cover up how he’d lied about our relationship, lied to all his friends, but I had all the proof I needed. Each phone call was a blur, but he wanted to be friends, so he put up with me yelling at him, telling him how he was a dishonest man and a liar and a cheater. Sometimes he’d apologize and express his guilt, other times he’d tell me how I need to get over it and how I was a stick in the mud for continuing to be upset. The heartbreak continued. How could he move on so fast? Four years together. How could he be so fine with us being over? How could he not care about my pain, about his? He wanted me to stop talking about us, about the breakup. He wanted me to just move on.

I played along for the first four days. Fine, I’ll try to be friends. I cried a lot, told my closest friend every word he said. I told my now-ex boyfriend that I didn’t want to watch him move on, sleep with other people, and date. I didn’t want to watch him find others. I still didn’t understand why he didn’t want to be together. The long distance, he said. But how could it be that, when we’d been long distance for so long and there was only 9 months left? The age difference (I’m 20), but how could it be that, if that hasn’t been a problem for so long? If I am more mature than him? I tossed around commitment issues and his lying as other possible reasons. At a point, he tried to convince me it was my fault I didn’t realize we weren’t together anymore. After all, he had turned off his iPhone location (he hadn’t), spoken to me less, and stopped saying I love you as frequently. He tried to convince me that he didn’t really cheat, I just hadn’t realized we were broken up. Yeah, it’s okay if you laugh. It’s pretty ridiculous. At the time, I asked him “Do you consider how people, me, your friends, and your family, feel when you lie to them?” and he said “No, I’ve been so independent and on my own for so long that I don’t care or consider how my lies make them feel. I lie to benefit myself, and It doesn’t occur to me how they feel.”

How could he leave me? I was perfect for him. Not organically, of course, since he made me. He made me exactly what I am. He shaped every personality trait, every like and dislike, every sexual interest. He was my first and he had designed me via manipulation and abuse. More on that later.

Still, four days after we broke up, also the day before yesterday, he took someone home. Or went home with someone. He always told me that if he wanted to go home with someone and have me not find out, he’d just shut off his snapchat location, which he had turned on for everyone (creepy, I know). Sure enough, he left the bar and turned off his location. I lost my mind. I was an absolute mess. After so many years, only 4 days? 4 days to move on? I was devastated. The wildfire had tore through my life and burned everything to a crisp. When you touched things, they turned to ash. I couldn’t take it. I’ve shouldered so much abuse from him— emotional, verbal, sexual. This was where I had to draw the line. I wasn’t going to force myself to watch him do that. I know what he wanted. He wanted me to know, he wanted to rub it in my face, and in the morning when I was mad he wanted to verbally abuse me and remind me we were no longer together. Call me names, tell me I was an immature child.

I never gave him that opportunity, because I sent him a message that I couldn’t be friends, and blocked him on every platform I could. I was a little happy to be free of him, but it was excruciating knowing he was moving on. Seeing other people. He’d been mine for so long, and I’d been his, I didn’t know what else there was.

Now, two days later, my outlook has changed. I have a long road ahead of realizing what he has done to me. Looking back and seeing the truth, dusting away his web of lies. Underneath the rubble and scorched earth of the wildfire he lost control of are foundations that tell the true story of what happened, of who he is. I realize now that this fire was not new, it was carefully cultivated by him. It burned in the background with our every kiss, touch, and word. He kept it hidden behind doors, away from my careful eyes. He told me how I was so strong, so smart, I could find a fire if there was one, so I stopped looking. But it was there, and when I broke his careful boundary and reached out to Kate, I finally opened that door. Fire poured out. Lies and half-truths and damaging, devastating secrets poured out and In drowning in them.

My boyfriend, let’s call him Rob, met me when I was 13. We met online in a BDSM chatroom. I was young and in pain, not knowing what I was doing. I’d been abused by my family and didn’t understand what love was, but I wanted to find it. I was desperate for attention and affection. I would have taken it from anywhere. Unfortunately, I found a snake that disguised itself as safety when Rob first messaged me. He was worried for my safety, because I seemed young and the chatroom was full of creepy, bad men. He was young, newly 23, and didn’t seem like one of the creeps. We started talking, and when he asked me how old I was , I was honest, it was 2015 and I was newly 13.

We began talking every day, calling and texting. He lived in New York, I in Arizona. After two months he told me he was falling in love, that he couldn’t believe it but he couldn’t stay away from me. He messaged me every day while I was in school— 8th grade. He messaged me sexual things. He asked for photos of me, sent photos of him. He opened up to me about his kinks and sexual interests. Like an innocent sponge, I soaked it all up. I didn’t see myself as a child, and didn’t see himself for what he was: a sick, demented man. He was an adult, he knew better. I felt bad for him, falling in love with someone so young and far away. I wish you could see the messages. I wish you could see how he tricked me, how he made me fall in love and convinced me he had too. I still like to think that he did love me, that it was all real. But even if he did, he knew how wrong it was.

We had met in June that year, and in October he broke things off. He wanted me to be able to grow up free if him. I guess his conscience bit him in the ass, but it didn’t last long. We still talked over the next year. He moved on, partied, slept around, and rubbed it in my face. He told me this was the way it was, to grow up, move on, and date someone new. When I finally did in October 2016, he was angry and jealous. He was unhappy with me for dating someone near my age. Eventually, he left me alone, but he still came back every few months to check in. He found someone to date, I was happy with my new boyfriend.

Just over a year later, maybe December 2017, my boyfriend and I’d been having problems. He had been going around behind my back with other girls, and we fought a lot. I reached out to Rob, asking him how he was doing, how his girlfriend was, and wishing him a happy holidays. He responded not long later and sparked up conversation. His girlfriend and him had broken up. One night, when Rob was out drunk at a party, he poured his heart out to me. He told me he never stopped loving me, never stopped thinking about me. His ex and him supposedly broke up because he couldn’t stop comparing her to me. I was confused and didn’t know what to do, but my compassion won over. I felt loved and adored and wanted him to feel better. I affirmed him, said I never stopped thinking about him either. I didn’t plan on leaving my boyfriend, but after a month of talking Rob had won me over again. I loved him all over again, like I never stopped. He planted seeds of doubt in me and broke my boyfriend and I up. He began dating me again. I told Rob how hard it would be. 2 years before I was 18, and then I’d have to go to college, could he really wait for me? At the time I was 15, almost 16, and he was 25. Yes, he said, I was his soulmate. His other half. I was worth it all. He loved me, more than anyone he’s ever loved. I was everything he wanted. He’d made it work. He said it like a mantra almost every day. I believed him. We had movie dates over the phone and called almost every night. I studied hard to go to college. Our conversations about sexual things continued. When we’d fight, usually about him messing with other women or lying, he would tell me I was an immature child. He would target my insecurities and use them against me, then tell me how much he loved me. How he could forgive me, how he never got tired of me, how much he loved me and couldn’t stay mad. My life was an emotional roller coaster of apologizing for my emotions and feeling insecure and unsettled all of the time.

I was vulnerable. I needed help, and he would help me. When my parents would berate me or emotionally abuse me or hit me, he would be right there to comfort me. He would promise me that his family would take me in, treat me as their own, and love me in the ways my own family couldn’t and wouldn’t. He told me so many times about the future we would have together, how he’d always be there to make it better. I was depressed, suicidal, and hurting. He called me every day and shouldered my emotional burdens, and I never realized how he made new ones. e talked about me running away to him, began arranging secret meetups in movie theaters, but nothing happened for awhile. We still always talked about sex, had phone sex, and he had many explicit photos of me.

When it was time for me to pick colleges, Rob was unhappy when I considered schools far from him. During our relationship he had moved to Texas and wanted me to go to Rice or Baylor. I tried, but in the end another school gave me more scholarship money. I didn’t have complete control over where I went because my family wanted me to pick the cheapest option, too. I went to a school in Michigan, and Rob was mad for a long time. I loved him and regretted choosing somewhere so far, even if it was a better school. Before I selected the school, I flew to Rice to interview. When I was in Houston, so was he. We met briefly in a restaurant. I was still only 17. We were both who we said we were, but he made me feel like I’d forced him to go, when I hadn’t.

As I got older and neared 18, the calls lessened. We didn’t talk as much. He still showered me with love and compliments and affection, but every few months he’d threaten to leave me if I didn’t fix the long distance or whatever issue was pressing him at the time. A few months after I turned 18, he told me to stop talking about my family and abuse. I could just leave home now, after all. His affection would continue to lessen over the next two years. But It had been so long, and I felt like no one would ever love me but him, so I stayed. I didn’t know how to leave. I didn’t know who I was without Rob, what life was without Rob.

We met in September 2020 when he visited me at college. He was unsure of meeting me, but I pushed him to come. We had waited so long, why were we waiting still? I still didn’t see what he had done as wrong. I didn’t see myself as child he had manipulated. I thought he just loved me, that this what was love was. That pain was normal, and it meant the love was true. Around that time he was pressuring me to get on birth control because he was too old for condoms. I wasn’t able to get my IUD in time for his visit, and I had to beg him to use condoms. He insisted on not using them at first, and sometimes would listen and put them on. I was terrified after he left. I was freshly 18 and in college, what if he got me pregnant? I still think about that.

I had felt so elated that he was real, he was with me, his love was tangible. He held me when I cried about how terrible he had treated me. How terrible the distance had been. He told me he’d never leave. We were life partners, he was in for the long run.

I remember the first year as incredible. He visited me once or twice in Michigan, but I visited him many times in Dallas where he lived. He had a small, cute apartment, and we seemed so happy. He drank a lot and partied when I wasn’t in town, but was on his best behavior when I was. He seemed exactly as he said he was. He was always careful about me meeting people in his life, but I attributed it to the age gap and distance. I was so wrong. I hadn’t met his family, only a few friends one time, yet had spent multiple months in pieces living in Dallas with him. I was lying to my parents about where I was as I took online classes from his apartment. It was an extremely stressful time for me, but I wanted to do what he wanted.

We still fought, and when we would fight he would usually find a way to convince me it was my fault. I was the one who was insecure, I was childish and unaware. As his abuse worsened and I could occasionally spot his gaslighting, I made the mistake of calling him out. He feigned being upset over it, and convinced me that it was actually me who was abusive, who gaslighted him. He was the victim and I was the crazy girlfriend who needed to walk all over her partner to be happy, to control him. I started complaining about less and less, keeping my disagreement to myself. I didn’t have any control, any say.

The second year was worse. Every few months he’d tell me he wasn’t sure of the relationship, that he wanted to leave, then would pretend like nothing happened. He bought a home in Dallas he couldn’t afford, one that I hated, and it brought him additional stress. He took a lot of it out on me. He still refused to let me meet his family or more friends, and when I pushed to he would do little things to appease me, like call his parents and allow me to participate. It wasn’t enough, and the pressure increased.

My college classes turned in person, and I couldn’t visit as often. His job was permanently remote now, but he refused to come visit me like I had him. In my mind, it was his turn now. I had space in my apartment, but he didn’t want to. He visited here or there but we grew apart from not seeing one another. I pushed to meet his family more and more, but he even cancelled going to his family Thanksgiving celebration to spend Thanksgiving with me in Texas. Another appeasement, but all I wanted was to meet them. I wanted to be a real part of his life, not some little girl he was ashamed of and loved behind others’ backs. I understand somewhat now what he saw me as, how he couldn’t bear to introduce me to his family and risk what I could tell them.

His love for me waned still. He wasn’t compassionate and loving, hated talking to me and calling, and put a heavy emphasis on our kink-filled sex life. I didn’t have much of a choice and did whatever he wanted to keep the peace. He pushed me to drink and use marijuana with him, stuff I was previously very against. When I was visiting him for Thanksgiving last year, after he had cancelled attending his family one, he gave me a very strong edible and sexually assaulted me twice. He had to carry me up the stairs, I couldn’t do them by myself. I don’t understand why he did this to me, perhaps for power and control. I probably would have engaged willingly, but he often talked about his fantasies of rape and now finally got what he wanted. It broke me. I lost so much will to ever fight back, and I never called him out or held him accountable, or hell, ever talked about it again.

Earlier this year, he pushed me more to move to Dallas. He was adamant he was ready to get married and needed me to be on the same page. I want a husband, a life partner, and loved the idea. I wanted the life he promised me. I wanted the future we’d always talked about. I was convinced from an early age that he was the only future I had, the only love I deserved and would ever need. I originally wanted to move somewhere besides Dallas with him. A fresh start. But his family was starting to move to Dallas and he didn’t want to move anymore. He eventually convinced me to agree to move to Dallas after I graduated from college and move into his home. I never liked the house, but it would be mine now. I now know he had been telling everyone we broke up, but pushing me to make permanent plans, which I did. Our fights were becoming more aggressive and he became more and more cruel, but I didn’t know who I was without him. I didn’t know how to leave. I tried at one point in April, but he wouldn’t let me.

Now I feel empty and lost and full of anger. I am slowly looking back on our texts, all the way back into 2016, things he had told me to delete but I never had. I didn’t expect to ever want to turn him in, I was just attached to the love he showed me and didn’t want to lose his texts as a reminder. Now i see them as proof. I’ve never been so angry. I felt betrayed in the beginning of the breakup, then embarrassed at being lied to, for falling for it all. I felt terrified at him making me live without him, distraught at his ease of moving on, how he didn’t seem sad at all to have me out of his life. Depressed when I came to terms that it was over, really over. Disgusted and sad when he took someone else home four days after cheating on me, when I thought he wanted me to be his wife. This summer was supposed to be me meeting his family, then engaged in the next year. I wanted to finally be a huge part of his life.

But now I am angry. I am full of hatred and anger for him. He stole my innocence from me, my teenage years, my freedom. He kept me emotionally, mentally exhausted and when I got too confident or powerful, he knocked me down. I had the personality he wanted me to have, the interests he wanted me to have. I adored him and he was ashamed of me. Part of me wants to hold him accountable. Why does he get to have a full, happy life after all of his lies and cheating and abuse? He was sexually attracted to me as a child and messed me up beyond belief. I don’t know who I could have even been without his influence. Why does he get to move through life, move on unscathed? Why does he get to be free and happy?

Everything I said here isn’t all that happened, but it is a large chunk. There will be more posts as I reflect and handle the emotions i have from this. I hope to someday look back and see how I have grown, how I’ve let go of the anger and found happiness. Maybe someday I’ll hold him accountable and ruin his life for ruining mine. All i know is i am deeply sad for the little girl this happened to, and I’m grateful I found out now about his deception, cruelty, and abuse of me when I was an adult and child.

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deviltoys · 3 years

Text

— ‘𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗼𝘆.’

sakusa kiyoomi x top!male reader. (wc; 1.7k)

#a/n: lolol self-indulgent sakusa fic because i wanna breed him so bad. this is painfully horrible and short but hopefully enough to feed everyone for the time being!

warnings. NSFW CONTENT, MINORS DNI, blindfold, overstimulation, breeding k., frat!au, gangbang, dubcon turned con, belly bulge, cum inflation, no aftercare, manipulation, sex slavery, implied somnophila.

joining the most prominent fraternity on campus was the last thing on his mind. sakusa struggled immensly when it came to social interaction, he even took extra precautions to avoid having to exchange any dialogue between peers. especially a bunch of guild boys who could barely keep their heads attached to their shoulders; but atsumu had somehow convinced him to give it a shot.

according to the miya twin, he needed to push past this boundaries and explore his comfort threshold a little more. the perfect place to do just that? a frat house. who's more loud and rowdy than a couple of douchebag adults trying to assert their alpha-ness by hosting a copious amount of house parties.

as much as he beseeched and argued against it, the frat scene had him hook, line and sinker. and soon, the unbearable pull of charming guys passing around pamphlets for recruitment day had caught up to him.

the hall of residence was a lot more alluring that media would lead on. he was pleasantly surprised by the cleanliness and charm of the home; the parade of shirtless guys crowding around the hobby room only added a sense of authenticity to the whole ordeal.

after he was plucked into the roster of other men trying their hand at slipping a way into the frat life of their dreams. the initiation was on the horizon, and sakusa’s overwhelming social anxiety from the day prior came flooding right back into his system. he had forgotten the most important rule about a brotherhood, proving your worth and loyalty to your new family.

the two paths you could choose to go down were no bed of roses— the first opportunity was to streak and sprint down the length of the campus yard. or a play special game, in which your fellow brothers would surprise you with.

no way in hell would he sacrifice his dignity by stripping down bare and humiliating himself in front of the entire university. his education was on the line, he had a reputation to uphold; the only option was to partake in whatever the sorority had waiting for him.

that's where you came in, merely handing the dark-haired male a piece of cloth to don around his eyes. the last thing he could recall about his surroundings was the eeriely warm yet sadistic expression you gave him— his vision melting into a blur of black when the blindfold made contact his skin.

“just find a place to sit on one of the couches, my brothers’ll be with you soon.” your tone was low and gravely, the remainder of his senses were heightened due to his loss of vision. his ears exploding with your voice and your voice only, he felt the flesh on his cheeks bleed from pink to red; praying you wouldn't notice his shift in attitude.

“ye- yeah.. okay, thanks.”

your footsteps faded into the backdrop, signalling him to begin his search for the couch. he'd rather die than have you watch him scramble around the room like a headless chicken. he stumbled around a little, as predicted— bumping into furniture here and there before his hips knocked into a pool table frequently used for beer pong.

his hands feel around the object in an attempt to slip past it, amongst all the chaos he's experiencing he's dimly aware of the presence of a group of people. the scuffling of shoes against the hardwood floors only solidify his suspicions, but before he's able to call out to you; or anyone. heavy pressure is placed atop his shoulder blades— the curve of hips lace into the divit of his ass until he's pressed against the table.

the silence drifting around the open space between your bodies isn't broken, nobody dare mumbles a sound. your broad palms slink up the underside of his shirt, keeping a painfully slow pace up his chest until your fingers pinch the first nipple they come in contact with. your free hand snakes around his hip and dips into the hem of his jeans before making it's way into the waistband of his boxers.

his body shudders desperately, thighs bucking forward as your fist pumps around the length of his twitching cock. by the time he can gasp out a flurry of winces, two fingers that weren't there previously, poke and prod around his rim. devilishly forcing his walls to mold around them and shape room for a few more.

both of your hands now find a home around his hips. your groin, which is positioned at his rear, ruts the outline of your erect bulge against his ass— plowing the multitude of fingers already planted inside of him, deeper. this only entails that the fingers now wrapped around his cock, teasing his chest, and sinking into the depths of his rectum all belong to a different set of people.

he once more unclamps his jaw to sputter out more nonsense, only moaning once the warm, wet agitation of lips suck a dark mark into the curve of his collarbone. he's overcome with bliss, marveling in the way each frat member simultaneously toys with his sensitive body.

an abundance of hands fumble with his zipper, unbuckling the leather around his waist— unlooping the material before tossing it aside. you shove his pants down past his calves, releasing your grip on him so that you're able to abandon your own set of clothes. there's more rustling of clothes and clinking of belt buckles and your hands return to him once more, binding his arms and shoulders while gently bending him onto the table.

bracing for impact, he's pleasantly astonished when his chin and shoulders sink into something soft and pillowy. you were kind enough to replace the hard surface beneath him with one of the sofa cushions, strengthening his trust in you.

with his body now calm and relaxed with aura around the six of you, you take a few moments to prepare your cock to breed your good little fuck toy.

hot breath teases the meek, male’s ear; your monstrous cock pressing into puckered hole only making the lewd torture of the situation worse.

“miya told us you'd like to become our little breeder sakusa, we've had our eye on you for awhile. is this true? do you want us to pump your little womb full of our children?”

atsumu? he was the one who had him in this position, such a trusted friend making him seem special enough to catch the attention of these compassionate boys? maybe he was born to be a slave for cock. atsumu wouldn't lie to him, would he?

oh poor kiyoomi, if only he saw right through that twisted facade.

you growl into the shell of his ear, he figures that you're the one who's bending over his back; threatening to breach his fertile hole. being the head of the frat, you got first dibs on all the fresh meat brought in, it's sad you'd have to share this one with your brothers.

there's nothing sakusa has to resist with, he whimpers out a few noises before you're rewarded with a barade of nods. a rise of chuckles and quiet exclamations from the group feed through his brain— apparently all of your peers are patiently waiting for their own couple of minutes with him. silent vulgarites phase past your teeth as you impatiently card a hand through his thick curls. plunging into the boy with one fluid motion, your cock vanishes from sight, disappearing inside of his stomach.

his ebony iris’ screw shut behind the blindfold. you can feel the way his womb parts just for your cock, the slimey g-spot of his is completely ignored as you push past it; the fat head of your cock mercilessly drilling into his belly. your cock is on full display, the layers of flesh seperating you from the outside world bend and jiggle around the outline of your shaft.

“i sure do hope you have enough room for all of our cum in there.” your thrusts don't falter, not daring to give his poor, ruined prostate a breather. “because we're not stopping until every single one of us has had a chance to knock you up!”

with those final words rolling off your tongue, your hips snapped long and harsh strokes into his twitching hole— cum bursting at the seams of your slit, balls tightening and enlarging as the pent up pleasure and lust readied the fat sacks for release. sakusa feels his tummy bloom with the first batch of warmth, sticky ropes of seed shoot right inside. perfectly filling him up in preparation for the next cock eager to breed his tight ass!

so wonderful, his womb feels so full and claimed! a bright and hot flush pools across his face; without warning the next cock sinks even deeper than the last. more of the groups genes passing through him, mating the frat’s new bitch over and over again. he's hit by a wave of orgasms after the second brother slams himself nice and deep, pumping his seed inside him once more. his asshole greedily opening and closing to filter as much thick cum as humanly possible into his intestines. before he's able to come to his senses, he's already chubby with semen; happily inviting the next member to come and breed his stupid body.

the entire night is flooded with sounds of hiccuping, skin on skin contact, and the leaking of cum being deposited right back into sakusa. the incredible feeling of his frat brothers groping and touching him up have him cumming time after time— all night he's shuddering as another orgasm passes through his frame.

once he's positively gushing with cum and reduced to nothing but an overstimulated puddle of arousal— you scoop up his limp, bloated body, collecting the rest of your buddies before carrying him to his very own dorm. labeling his room, the ‘breeding room’. the sorority didn't let him waste a dime of time rejuvenating his body with sleep. they didn't want their new play thing to go to waste; he was awoken multiple times during the wee hours of the night. cock fitted tightly between his lavish cheeks.

he was certainly going to love it here, nothing but a obedient puppet.

#𓉔 — m.list #𓉔 — directory.#𓉔 — works.#c; sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi x top male reader #sakusa kiyoomi x male reader #haiykuu x top male reader #haikyuu x male reader #sakusa kiyoomi #dark haikyuu #haikyuu smut #dark content #male dark blog

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starryhyuck · 4 years

Text

good girls (m) | slytherin!hyuck

pairing: slytherin!donghyuck x ravenclaw!reader

words: 4k+

summary: donghyuck thinks you’re the most perfect, little goody-two-shoes head girl who’s ever walked the halls of hogwarts. that is, until he finds out you’ve fucked na jaemin in the back of the library.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: public sex, overstimulation, creampies, degradation, riding

yes this is inspired by ‘good girls’ from 5sos.. how did you know?

“Leave me alone, Donghyuck.”

The Slytherin boy insists on following you, weaving his way through the shelves of the library simply just to annoy you. You’re sure Donghyuck has made it his goal to get under your skin this year, just as he has done in years prior. Luckily, the both of you are reaching the end of your time at Hogwarts, so it shouldn’t be long before he completely disappears from your life.

“What’s wrong? I’m just asking you for Potions help.”

You glare at him as you reach for another book you need to study. Since your father was the Potions professor, Donghyuck always assumed you would be able to help him cheat on upcoming tests. His version of help was always laced with just tell me the answer.

“I’m not telling you anything,” you hiss lowly, scurrying away in an attempt to get him to leave. You’re unsuccessful, of course, as he trails behind you when you reach your desk.

“Will you at least come to the Quidditch game this weekend?” He smirks, placing his hands on the table and leaning over to grin sleazily at you. You roll your eyes, getting situated in your seat as you open your Charms textbook.

“I’m not interested in watching Quidditch.”

He narrows his eyes. “Don’t lie. I saw you in the stands last weekend with Renjun.”

“Fine. I’m not interested in watching you play Quidditch.”

He scoffs. “Whatever. Just let me know when goody-two-shoes wants to come out of the library and have some fun.”

Donghyuck leaves you, finding Yangyang and Jeno in the Great Hall. The boys are laughing at the Slytherin table even though neither of them are actually a Slytherin. The rest of the table isn’t bothered by their presence.

Jeno snickers at the sight of Donghyuck’s long face when he sits next to him.

“Struck out again?”

“I didn’t strike out,” Donghyuck clarifies, although nobody is buying it. “It’s a slow process.”

“So you struck out?” Yangyang chuckles.

Donghyuck just rolls his eyes. “I’ll get there.”

Jeno glances back down at his Herbology textbook. “You should talk to Jaemin. I think they’re good friends.”

It’s hard to fathom that you would be friends with anybody, considering you spend most of your time in the library or helping your dad out in his office. Donghyuck’s tried really hard to get a sliver of your attention since First Year. He didn’t know exactly what it was that attracted him to you, but he supposes that you rejecting him kept spurring on his advances. You were also super fucking hot, and he almost passed out in Fourth Year when you showed up to the Yule Ball wearing a dress that still lingers in his dreams.

“How would Jaemin even-“

“Don’t ask me,” Jeno brushes off. “I’m studying.”

Donghyuck huffs before pulling out his own textbook. He supposes he should study too since you’re clearly not going to help him. He tends to zone out during most of his classes, mainly thinking about how sinful you look in your little skirt, how he could just rip your robes right off and-

Yangyang hits him upside the head. Donghyuck groans.

“Stop daydreaming and focus.”

The Slytherin boy grumbles but listens anyways, trying his best to focus on the History of Magic instead of imagining you bent over one of the desks in Potions class.

—

“If you’re not going because Donghyuck asked you to, then that’s just stupid. I don’t even understand why you’re in Ravenclaw.”

You glare at Renjun. He’s all dressed up in Ravenclaw gear, covered head to toe in a mountain of blue. You rarely attend Quidditch games unless Renjun drags your ass out there to watch.

“I don’t want to go today. Can’t you find someone else to come with you?”

“Nope. Only you,” he smiles. You’re not amused in the slightest bit. “Oh, I see. Is it because you don’t want to see Na Jaemin?”

“Jaemin and I are history, Renjun. Don’t need to dwell in the past.”

“You fucked him literally a month ago.”

You grab the nearest article of clothing near you and fling it at Renjun. Jisu grunts at the both of you.

“Holy fuck, I’m trying to study! Just go to the game and get the fuck out of our room!”

You grumble but listen to your roommate as she seems to grow more irate the longer Renjun stands in the doorway. He smiles in victory when you walk beside him to the Quidditch field. You ignore his glee while he babbles on about today’s game, wondering who’s going to reach victory.

You both find seats in the stands, and you feel embarrassed being here. After all, it was only a month ago when Jaemin fucked you in the Quidditch locker rooms. You managed to not get caught, but you wouldn’t hold it against Jaemin to tell the entire team what happened.

Jaemin wasn’t your boyfriend by any means. You two simply started to get closer this year and to release most of your frustration, you found yourself underneath him every once in a while. You ended it last month after Seojeong started to show an interest in dating him, and you didn’t want to interfere with the Hufflepuff’s advances. You haven’t spoken to Jaemin since then, only catching him eyeing you during Potions ever so often.

But now you see him as he mounts his broom, holding steady in the air as Slytherin’s Seeker. Your eyes are too focused on him to realize Donghyuck has been waving frantically for the last minute to try and get your attention.

Renjun elbows your side and you groan.

“What the fuck?”

He points to where Donghyuck is, just a few feet away from Jaemin in the air. You sigh and refuse to wave back at him, but Donghyuck still keeps his bright smile.

“Wouldn’t he be better as a commentator than a player?” You ask Renjun, knowing how fast Donghyuck can run his mouth.

“You’ll be surprised. Donghyuck’s really good. If I were on the team though, I think I would like to be Seeker,” Renjun muses.

You scoff. “Seeker? You can’t see for shit!”

You think Renjun’s about to murder you then and there, but the whistle is blown and the game sets in motion. He diverts his attention, cheering loudly for Ravenclaw.

As the game draws on, you see what Renjun means. Donghyuck is impeccably fast on his broom, whizzing by your Ravenclaw team to throw the Quaffle into one of the hoops. Your eyes widen and you lean over to Renjun.

“He’s pretty good.”

“I told you.”

You become mesmerized in the way Donghyuck zooms across the field, dodging any incoming bludgers and getting score after score for Slytherin. You would usually be focused on how Jaemin holds steady on his broom, trying to capture the Snitch.

You can’t take your eyes off Donghyuck’s figure, sweat dripping from his forehead as he eagerly throws the Quaffle into another hoop. Chenle, the commentator, praises him once again. You don’t even mind that your team is losing — Donghyuck seems determined to make them eat dirt.

You won’t lie either, he looks incredibly attractive like this.

“Fuck!” Renjun shouts in your ear. “Jaemin found the Snitch!”

It’s only mere seconds before Chenle declares victory for Slytherin, and the sea of green leaps up to cheer. Renjun grumbles, hanging his head in his hands as you laugh. The rest of Ravenclaw is just as dejected as him, filing out of the stands and mumbling about how no one can stop Donghyuck once he’s on the field.

“Come on, champ,” you encourage him, trying to pull the small boy up from his seat. Renjun sighs as he follows you and since you two are one of the last ones to leave the stands, you catch the Slytherin team leaving the locker rooms and bouncing with joy to go to their after party.

Donghyuck’s eyes light up when he sees you and you quickly try to detour, tugging Renjun along with you. Donghyuck calls out your name and you sigh, turning back around to face him. He looks like a dream if you’re being honest, fresh out of the showers and beaming at his victory.

“You came!”

You cough awkwardly. “Renjun dragged me here.”

“Impressive what you did out on the field,” Renjun nods in acknowledgment. You can only imagine how hard it was for him to choke out a compliment, considering Renjun hates when Ravenclaw loses.

Donghyuck nods back. He turns his attention to you. “Coming to the after party?”

“We’re not in Slytherin,” you mention, pointing to the blue colors both you and Renjun are wearing. “Plus, you just killed our Quidditch team’s reputation.”

He smirks. “True, but I’m sure no one cares if you’re from a different house as long as you celebrate. At least, I don’t care if you’re a Ravenclaw.”

Renjun clears his throat at Donghyuck’s attempt at flirting. He nudges your side when Jaemin leaves the locker rooms, his hair a newly dyed blonde as he combs his fingers through it.

You quickly grab Renjun’s wrist. “Um, we’ll decline. See you later!”

You both scurry away before Jaemin has a chance to see you, leaving Donghyuck flustered at your rejection. Jaemin comes up to swing his arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder.

“Why are you still here? I thought you would be off to the party by now.”

Donghyuck sighs. “Tried my luck with Y/N but she just hates me.”

Jaemin freezes at the sound of your name. He coughs a little. “Are you talking about the Ravenclaw?”

Donghyuck nods and the two begin walking back to their common room. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to get her to open up to me but I guess she’s really not interested.”

“Um, do you know that we used to be a thing?”

Donghyuck fully stops in his tracks. “What?”

Jaemin looks extremely flustered now in front of his friend. “She kind of ended it a month ago. But we used to, um, be together all the time.”

“Be together how?” Donghyuck narrows his eyes.

“I don’t need to spell it out for you, Donghyuck.”

He folds his arms across his chest. “I think you do. As far as I know, Y/N barely has any friends as is so I find is unbelievable that she would open herself up to you.”

Jaemin flushes at the implication, recalling exactly how many times you’ve ‘opened up to him.’ He hasn’t caught any feelings for you and he knows it goes the same way around, but your friendship from before is completely broken. You two can barely be in the same room together without feeling the tension.

“You don’t know her very well then,” Jaemin remarks, wanting to end the conversation as quickly as possible. He honestly didn’t know Donghyuck expressed an interest in you until now. “Let’s forget about what I said and have a good after party, okay?”

Jaemin tugs Donghyuck along but Donghyuck can’t stop thinking about you.

Specifically, you underneath the blonde boy, moaning and thrashing in his hold while Jaemin relentlessly pounds into your tight hole.

Fuck.

—

“Sorry, we’re saving this seat for- What the fuck?!”

Jeno and Yangyang are both floored by their friend’s new appearance, wide eyed as Donghyuck takes his seat next to them in the Great Hall. The Slytherin boy says nothing, diving into his breakfast without a word.

Jeno leans closer to him and whispers. “Who are you?”

Donghyuck glares at him. When he found out about you and Jaemin on Saturday, he had a little bit of a meltdown. His roommate, Shotaro, watched in confusion as Donghyuck paced back and forth for hours. Shotaro was even more befuddled when Donghyuck made the impulse decision to buy blonde hair dye, matching the same shade as Jaemin’s.

He didn’t expect to look so different, but with the way Jeno and Yangyang were staring at him, it was as if he became another person.

“I wanted to do something new,” Donghyuck shrugs, offering his explanation. The two of them are silent after that, both exchanging glances with one another.

Yangyang clears his throat after a few minutes. “Did you lose a dare?”

“No,” Donghyuck hisses. “What? Don’t I look good?”

Both of them avert their gaze and Donghyuck narrows his eyes. His stare wanders over to the Ravenclaw table, where you’re currently eating with Renjun and Jisu. His heart thumps in his chest while he watches you giggle at something your roommate said, leaning on her side for support. His trance is broken by the person he wants to see the least.

“Woah. What happened to you?”

Jaemin takes his seat next to Yangyang, eyebrows raised at Donghyuck’s new look.

“Nothing.”

His curt response makes Jaemin even more amused, and Jeno chuckles.

“Maybe Y/N likes blonde guys. Remember, Jaem? When you two were in the library and you said-“

Jaemin throws his fork at Jeno and hits him square in the forehead, causing the Hufflepuff to immediately glare and lunge for the Slytherin across the table. Yangyang tries his best to break the two up while Donghyuck’s mind drifts to Jeno’s statement.

The library? The place where you’re holed up all day, studying to get the best grades in every single subject? Did you let Jaemin take you against one of the bookshelves? Did you sit on his cock while you both pretended to read at the table.

Fuck. You were far from the good girl he always pictured you as.

Donghyuck stands wordlessly, ignoring Jeno and Jaemin’s squabble as he walks out of the Great Hall. He finds himself sitting at your table in the library, patiently waiting for your arrival. He doesn’t give a fuck about attending classes today, he needs to know the answers to his questions.

And so he waits. Surprisingly, he actually manages to get some studying done. Maybe the library wasn’t so bad.

He finally sees you during lunch period, watching as you walk in and smile softly at those who pass you. Your figure immediately retreats to the Potions section, and Donghyuck is quick to follow after you. He spots you standing on your tiptoes trying to grab one of the textbooks on the top shelf.

He approaches you with light footsteps, and you jump five feet in the air when you hear his voice.

“Did you do it here?”

“W-What?”

Donghyuck’s eyes are glazed over, dark as they scrutinize you. You feel small underneath his heavy gaze, and you try to ignore the beam of pleasure that shoots straight to your core. You almost didn’t recognize him with his newly dyed hair, and you won’t deny that he looks fucking hot.

He takes a step closer to you, trapping your body between him and the bookshelf. You shudder when he runs his finger down your arm.

“Did you lift your skirt up for Jaemin here? Let him take you in public?”

You gulp, avoiding his eyes. “H-How do you know about that?”

He growls, and the sound causes a gush of wetness to seep out of your core. “So it’s true? Little Ravenclaw princess is nothing but a common whore? Pretends to be all studious but ends up getting railed for everyone to see?”

You whimper. “It’s not like that- I-“

Your voice catches in your throat when his hand drifts up the expanse of your thighs, fingers dangerously close to your dripping cunt. You quickly survey the area, afraid someone will see the both of you. Most students are eating lunch in the Great Hall but there are still a select few who have chosen their studies over meals. When you did this with Jaemin, it was well past curfew and the library was completely empty.

Despite the fact that you could get caught at any time, it only makes you want him more.

“Touch me, please,” you beg, gripping his forearm.

His eyebrows shoot up at your immediate compliance. “You really are just a little slut, aren’t you? So fucking needy. Before this, you wouldn’t even give me the time of day. You’re just that desperate, aren’t you? Want your small pussy to be filled?”

You quickly nod, way past the point of preserving your dignity.

He flips you over, pressing your cheek against the wood. You whine when his fingers run over your clothed slit.

“So wet, baby,” he whispers, trying his best to conceal your garbled moans with his hand. “Is this for me? Or for Jaemin?”

“For you,” you choke out. “For you, Hyuck.”

He groans at the nickname, moving your panties aside and pushing a finger into you. Your mouth opens in a silent cry as your fingers dig into the shelves. Donghyuck’s breath is hot and heavy in your ear, and he can’t believe you’re letting him take you like this. He wonders what would happen if word got around to your father, who would fail Donghyuck in Potions for sure.

He doesn’t really care at this point, especially when your warm walls are clenching around his finger.

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, pushing another digit inside. “Want to see you fall apart, baby.”

His other hand comes up to tug at your hair so he can see your expression. You already look completely fucked out and he’s barely done anything to you. He knows he doesn’t have a lot of time before the next period starts, so he quickly moves to unbuckle his belt. His fingers slip out of you and you cry at the loss.

You get more excited at the sound and he chuckles. “Dreamed about this for years,” he whispers. “This pussy is mine now, baby. Won’t let anyone else have it.”

You feel his tip prodding at your entrance, and he waits for your go-to. You decide to slip it in yourself, reaching to grasp his base and push back on his cock. He’s thicker than you thought, and the stretch fills you whole.

Once Donghyuck realizes how desperate you really are, his hands fly to your hips, bottoming out inside you. You both groan lowly, his length pressing against your sweet spot.

He’s about to start thrusting until he hears voices approaching. You both start to panic, and Donghyuck quickly directs you to grab a book from the top shelf while he rearranges his robes. To anyone else, it looks like Donghyuck is helping you grab a book, maybe just a little closer than normal.

Three Hufflepuff students pass by, heading to the History of Magic section of the library. They pay no attention to you two, and Donghyuck sighs in relief. You, however, are still wanting a nice fuck.

You whine and clench around his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he hisses. “We almost got caught but you don’t care, do you?”

You shake your head and he chuckles lowly. He resumes fucking you, trying his best to keep his grunts to a minimum. It’s difficult, especially when the sound of his balls slapping against your ass increases in volume.

His hands move around your middle, pulling you closer to his chest. “Please,” you beg.

“Baby wants to cum?” You frantically nod and he laughs breathily. His fingers grip your breast over your tight button up shirt, tilting your head so he can kiss you. His tongue slips into your mouth and you whine, driving closer and closer to the edge.

You fall before you know it, Donghyuck trying to keep you quiet as you orgasm around him. The feeling of you creaming around his cock brings him waves of pleasure, and he tries to pull out of you until you stop him.

“Inside,” you plead.

He short circuits at your request, mind going blank. He cums without warning, shooting ribbons of his cum deep inside your waiting womb. You moan at the feeling of him filling you up.

When you both come to, he kisses your neck.

“You’re such a dream,” he mumbles. “Can you stop ignoring me now?”

You laugh. He helps you look presentable, pulling your panties back on even though his cum leaks out of your hole. He rearranges your skirt and tucks himself back into his pants.

You turn around and kiss him.

“You’re really hot when you play Quidditch.”

He smirks. “I knew it.”

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes. Then, your voice grows small. “Can we do this again tonight?”

He grins. He wraps an arm around your waist and presses his lips to yours again.

“Are you mine? Not Jaemin’s?”

You scoff. “I just let you cum inside me. I never let Jaemin do that.”

His eyes sparkle. “Good girl.”

(bonus scene because i’m horny)

“Where are you going?”

Jisu raises an eyebrow at you as you grab one of the candles from your nightstand, ready to meet Donghyuck. You shrug and smile at her.

“Getting some good dick.”

She giggles and winks at you. “Sounds fun. Be safe!”

You slip out of your room quietly, trying your best to be as silent as possible. You’ve snuck out many times before after curfew, being able to tell your Ravenclaw prefects that you desperately needed to cram some extra studying in. They all thought you wouldn’t receive any major discipline anyways since your father was the Potions professor.

You sneak into the Slytherin common room, using the password Donghyuck gave you earlier. The Slytherin prefects were both asleep on the ground, as expected.

Donghyuck waited for you on the sleek emerald couch, smiling as he spotted you. He patted his thighs so you could take your seat, and you giggled, placing the candle on the table and sitting in his lap.

“Missed me?” He murmured, wrapping his arms around you and pressing kisses to the side of your neck.

“Saw you like two hours ago.”

He frowns. “And you haven’t missed me since then?”

You roll your eyes and whine. “Hurry. Want your cock.”

“Will you let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“If you win the next Quidditch game.”

He smirks. “Deal.”

You quickly move to unbuckle his belt, sinking to your knees as he watches you carefully. You moan when his cock springs up, tip bright and red. He’s heavy in your hand when you take him, licking a stripe up from his base to the tip. He groans when you bring his head into your mouth, sucking gently.

Holy fuck. You deepthroat him in no time, sinking down on his cock until you choke. He watches with hazy eyes as you struggle to suck him, his length filling your windpipe.

“Too big for you, baby? Can’t handle my big cock?”

You shake your head in defiance. You start bobbing your head up and down, determined to give him the best blowjob of his life. Donghyuck’s eyes dart up when he hears the sound of a door creaking, locking eyes with Jaemin. You haven’t heard anything — too preoccupied with sucking his dick.

Jaemin’s eyes widen when he spots you two before he smiles, throwing Donghyuck a wink and a thumbs up. He retreats back to his room and Donghyuck can’t take the wait any longer.

“Hands and knees.”

You pull away from him, spit dribbling down the side of your mouth. You follow his orders, pulling down your pajama pants and bending over the side of the couch. He delivered a harsh slap to your cheek, and you whimper.

“Pretty girl,” he praises as he lines himself up to your entrance. “Little cock hungry cumslut. What would people say if they saw you? Good Ravenclaw desperate for cum?”

“Want them to see me,” you blubber. “Want them to see how well I take your cock.”

He grunts. “Fuck. Dirty little minx.”

He practically rips your panties in half, fingers digging into your flesh as he takes the first thrust. Is it even possible that his cock grew bigger? He’s hitting your sweet spot with no problem from this angle, sending sparks flying in your tummy. You swear you can feel him in your throat if it was possible.

“Take my cock, baby,” he hisses. “Fuck. See what I do for you? Been chasing after you for years thinking you were a little innocent schoolgirl but turns out I just needed to give you my cock and then you would be all mine. Even dyed my hair to this stupid fucking color for you.”

“I-I like y-your hair,” you cry.

“Yeah? Because it looks just like Jaemin’s, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t give a fuck about Jaemin. Only want you.”

He’s satisfied by your answer and moves his hand down to pinch your clit. The sensation sends you flying into your first orgasm and you sob as you cum around his cock.

He slips out of you, sitting down on the couch and patting his thighs again. “Come on. Show me how much you want it.”

Shakily, you rise and straddle Donghyuck’s hips, slowly sinking down on him. His girth stretches you even more as you ride him, twisting and turning your hips until you feel the burn. You don’t care if you look like a needy slut at this point — he’s made you this way.

You never fucked Jaemin with this much fervor, usually letting him lazily thrust into you before you both reach your climax. He also never stared at you the way Donghyuck is looking at you now, eyes dark as he watches you fall apart on his cock.

“Gonna cum again, baby?”

“Y-Yes,” you answer back, closing your eyes as you feel pleasure overtake your body. You can barely think straight as he fucks you so good.

You orgasm again before you fully realize it, wetness dripping down your thighs and onto his cock.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he groans. “Where do you want my cum?”

“Inside, inside,” you respond, observing as he chases his own high. He stills inside of you, cumming deep inside your tummy.

You kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth while you feel his cum drip out of you.

“I better win that Quidditch game.”

You giggle. “You better.”

“What’s gonna happen if you get pregnant?”

You shrug. “I’m taking those muggle pills Jisu gave me so I think we’re fine. It’s not like it’s going to stop you from cumming inside me anyway.”

“True. Second round in the Astronomy Tower?”

“I can barely walk.”

“I’ll carry you.”

#nct smut #haechan smut #hyuck #nct scenarios

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