#and i would NEVER include the words ‘in this essay i will’

[huntressofartemis001]

In the song “Too Sweet”, Irish singer Hozier claims that the subject of his passion is “too sweet for [him]”. Later in the same song, he affirms that the above person is “as sweet as a grape”, thus implying that grapes are too sweet for him. In this essay I will

[santacoppelia]

Of fandom, age, and David Tennant being our own personal Time Lord

I read the fantastic post that @davidtennantgenderenvy wrote about David Tennant and aging (if you haven’t yet read it, go for it!) and, as a fan who is closer to DT's age range than to what seems to be the rest of the fan base's age (yeah, being well over 40 is A THING), I had an interesting mix of ideas and emotions. I was going to just reblog her post with some of these musings, but when this started getting longer (and I started searching for bibliography, ha), I decided that I was not going to hijack her post, but rather cite it (and reblog it on its own right, really, read it). I should say that this is a long essay, and it comes peppered with references to one of my preferred fields of study (but I make it light and fun, promise).

Becoming an “old geek”

The first time I came into the idea was when I found a thirst TikTok with that very nice audio that goes “I think I need someone older…” and clearly, the thirst was there, but also… David is 8 years older than me, and when you are 45, thirsting over someone who is 53 doesn’t feel as “edgy” (and thinking about “needing someone older” starts verging on thirsting over people well over 65, which is absolutely fine, but a very different category over all for the rest of TikTok). So yeah, it was weird. You see someone who you feel is "in your range" and everyone is calling them "old"… And you start thinking about aging, inevitably.

Of course, I "don't feel old", but most of my friends are younger than me, and I'm the oldest person in many of my "fun activities". Take, for example, my lightsaber combat team, where every sponsorship is pitched to people under 30, and you should be training at least twice a week and following a strict diet to reach the expected “competitive or exhibition” level (enter the “old lady” who is taking this training just for fun, who needs to take care of her joints and who is not going to be invested in becoming Jedi Master General or anything of the sorts in the near future). Or we can talk about the expectation about fandom in general being a “teenage phase”, and thinking about everyone who still is into it actively after certain age as “immature” or “quirky” at best (hi, mom! Hi, work colleagues! Hi, students!).

Society, aging and social constructs

Of course, this has a lot to do with societal expectations. For almost 80 years, popular culture has been built around "youth" and "young people": before rock & roll, most things (music, clothes, movies, art in general) were targeted to “adults”, and you were expected to be “a functional adult” since a younger age. There was a seismic shift in the way popular culture was built when consumer culture decided to see and cater young people: trends became shorter, being “hip” was desirable, staying younger for a longer period was a nice aspiration (a good, light reading to get a deeper view around this is “Hit Makers” by Derek Thompson. It is written for marketers, but that makes it an easy historic overview and I like that). This has a lot to do with the change of our view about old people, too: while being old 100 years ago (yup, 1924 still fits the bill) made you “a respected elder” and you were expected to be wise, to know best, to be the voice of reason and an expert, nowadays not even us older people like being seen as “old” or “older”.

Frequently, culture becomes entrenched in binary oppositions. The binary opposition between “young” and “old” is… well, old! And while the opposition is sustained, the meanings around it change over time (that’s what the past paragraph was about, really). If in the 1940’s being old meant “mature, respectable, wise, responsible” and being young meant “inexperienced, immature, foolish”, after the 1950’s those meanings shifted a lot: being young became “fun, interesting, in the now and in the know, attractive”, while being old was about being “boring, dusty, passé, uninteresting, dull”.

In reality, being young can be a mix of all of these things (inexperienced and fun and foolish and attractive), and being old can be, at the same time, being responsible and wise and a little dusty and dull, because that’s life *shrugs*, and the wonder of lived experience is that, even if we simplify it, it is complex and rich and sometimes contradictory in itself: we can be old and foolish and interesting and boring, or young and dull and inexperienced and attractive. But, as we need to make “social sense” of things, simplifying them is… easier. That’s why we build stereotypes, and why we use them! We need to have a “base” of signifiers to build upon, so we usually take what we have on our environment and run with it. If you find this idea interesting, welcome to the world of cultural semiotics! *takes her Iuri Lotman picture out of her pocket and puts it on the desk*

(Iuri Lotman, people. He is my "patron saint").

Pop culture versus “real culture”

Another cultural opposition that piques my interest in this area is the notion of “pop culture”, of course. It is opposed to “real, serious culture”, the sort of thing that everyone expects "older, mature people" to enjoy. In the sixties and seventies, there were a lot of studies and writing about "high brow" and "low brow" culture, trying to keep this distinction between "things that make you familiar with the now, but have no intrinsic value" and "eternal things that cultivate your mind, soul and spirit".

Evidently, if you ask me, this is a whole load of horse manure: probably useful to fertilize other things, but with little intrinsic value on its own. My main point is not dolphins, but the idea of culture: historically, it has used to mean a lot of things; from the notion of (exactly) fertilizing something and making it grow to make it come to fruition, to the hodgepodge of practices that a social group creates when they are together and are trying to make common sense of things.

I like the latter better (that is the one I’d ascribe to if this was The Academia TM, but this is tumblr!), but another popular definition, which comes from the Illustration and has been quite prevalent, is the notion of culture as the set of cultural practices that make you a better, more intelligent, far more educated person. For example: if you want to have real culture, you have to read Shakespeare and know what a iambic pentameter is, rather than watching “10 Things I Hate About You”. You must read real books, not listen to audiobooks, and “real books” should be written by “serious authors” like (insert old white Western European or American cis men, preferably born before 1960).

Here comes the notion of “cultural canon”, grinning widely. Yup, that set of practices becomes an expectation of what and how you should experience any area of the human experience, and they become a sort of “nucleus” of the whole experience, with people playing “defense” around them and culture shifting all around and sometimes across them. This is not exclusive to “high culture”: Have you ever heard about “gatekeeping”? Yeah, same fenomenomenon (Shadwell, of course). Whenever something gets this “shape”, it becomes a “norm”, the “common” thing, the “rule” if you participate in that set of cultural practices.

As every cultural set of practices tends to generate its own “canon”, they also have a lot of practices surrounding it, which are ever changing, shifting, learning from new and old practices, and redefining what everything means in their common/shared space. For example: Neil Gaiman, my beloved, was part of the “comics” frontier when Sandman first appeared, but as he and Alan Moore (yeah, I know he did it first, but Gaiman is my study focus right now, so let me be) and other very talented and interesting people started creating fascinating stuff that hadn’t been done, and they found people who loved it, they not only redefined the world of comics, but became part of the new canon themselves. And then, Neil’s presence in the world of literature and fantasy became widespread and recognized and then revered… And then he is doing it again by adapting his own work to a streaming platform in a serialized way… I hope this explains why I’m growing an obsession with studying Neil Gaiman as an author who crosses through different media: a transmedial auteur, an anomaly in his own right. But that is not an essay for tumblr, but a thesis, one that I don’t know if I’d ever have the time or mental resources to write (being a runaway ex academic with ADHD who works on their own is hard, people). Besides, this was about aging and David Tennant, so let’s cut this tangent short and start talking about our Time Lord and Savior: David Tennant, the king of frontiers.

David Tennant as a Frontier Lord

David Tennant is another fascinating case in this sense, mostly because he is an actor who has been able to build a whole very impressive career through crossing symbolic frontiers. Through his massive filmography (161 roles just for screens, as registered in IMDb) and his stage career (I love this gifset for this exact reason), he has acted his way through almost everything, from classical Shakespeare to improvisational comedy, from procedural police drama to wacky fantasy sci-fi. This has a lot to do with his personality (he loves acting, he decided to pursue acting as a career thanks to his love for Doctor Who, but he is also smart and inquisitive) but, as it happens with a lot of “frontier figures”, it also has a lot to do with “unpredictable” circumstances: less of a strategy, more of an instinct.

David has talked many times about how his impostor syndrome made him feel, for the longest time, that he had to keep accepting roles, because you never know if there is going to be another one after. He is talented and open and curious (this is quite a good interview about his perspective), but this… anxiety? meant that he had also lower quandaries about saying “yes” to roles and projects that were “less consistent” with a typecast (which has been, for the longest time, one of the main strategies to build an acting career). Yeah, he has some defining characteristics that make a role “tennantish” (I’m not starting that tirade here, but yeah, you know that almost fixed set of quirks and bits), but he has also worked his way through many different genres, budgets, styles and complexities. And he has usually been as committed and as professional in a big budget-high stakes-great script sort of situation, as he has been in a highly chaotic-let’s see what sticks-small scale project.

That can be correlated by the way he talks about “acting advice”. “Be on time, learn your lines, treat everyone the same, never skip the lunch queue”… Acting is a job, and he treats it as such. Yeah, he looks for interesting projects anytime he can, but the “down to earth” attitude about it is, once again, not-usual, not-common: pure frontier. Then, when David talks about his own self (specially at a young age), he is pretty clear about his “outsider” or “uncool” status (this interview is fantastic), and how strangely disruptive it was to become not only recognizable, but cool and sexy and… everything else, thanks to Doctor Who. He went from living in the frontier to being put in the canon, but he is still, at heart, a person who is more comfortable not defining himself by that “expected” set of rules.

Him being a very private person, who insists on having a family life that seems, form this distance, stable, loving and absolutely un-showbiz just makes the deal (and the parasocial love and respect) easier to sustain; as does his openness to talk about social and political issues that interest him (passionately, again; against the norm for “well liked celebrity”, again). His colleagues also talk wonders about him, mostly because he is this sort of down-to-earth but also passionate about his craft and easy to work with. Again: not the “norm”, not the “rule” of being such a celebrity.

Many of his fans (should I say that I’m one? Or is it obvious at this point?) find this not only endearing, but comforting: he is a massive star, who has acted in a lot of terrific roles in huge productions… But he feels, at heart, as “one of us”. But he is, also, a well-respected thespian, a Shakespearian powerhouse, an international talent. He lives in a very authentic, but very unstereotipical frontier. And he seems happy about that and has made a career from it. Extensive kudos and all the parasocial love and the amateur-actress mad respect for that.

I should mention, just in passing, that a “natural” archetype for this characters that traverse frontiers… are tricksters. Think again about the “tennantish” characteristics. Here goes another essay I’m not writing right now.

Aging: The Next Frontier

This takes me to the original post that inspired the essay: living in a culture where the “norm” is “being young and famous is a desirable aspiration”, we have a fantastic actor, at peak of his craft, who is in the heart of middle age (past 50, nearing 55). Not only that, but he is an actor with whom at least a couple of generations have grown older: from the ones who feel him as “our contemporary” to the ones who grew up looking at him (like Ncuti Gatwa!).

David, being the frontier person he is, has been navigating this transition in a very “unconventional” way: he came back to the role that made him iconic (The Doctor, now with more trauma!), is starring in another fantasy series about middle-aged looking ethereal beings that at times is an adventure thriller, at times is a comedy of errors and at times is a romcom (having another beautiful trickster of a man as his co-star… There goes another tangent that is an essay); he is playing one of the quintessential Shakespeare roles for middle-aged men (Macbeth), and is, seemingly, having a lot of fun doing a lot of voice acting for animation roles (if you haven’t watched Duck Tales, you’re missing a whole lot of fun, really).

Traditionally, middle aged actors navigate that period of their career trying to reinforce their “still young, thus a celebrity” status (for example, doing a lot of action-packed movies and keep doing their own stunts while seducing women 20-30 years younger than them), or strengthening their “prestige thespian, so now a real culture person” position (fighting for more serious roles, going from comedy to drama, or working their way into The Classics©). Sometimes, they face the internalized societal expectation by also becoming a shipwreck in their personal life (yeah… the stereotype of “getting divorced, having an affair with someone half their age, getting another red convertible, getting in trouble…”) because we don’t have a good “map for aging responsibly” yet as a society. We have been so focused on youth, that we have forgotten how to age.

Again, switching to the personal experience. I was raised as a female-shaped person (yeah, being queer is fun), so part of the experience of growing (and then growing old) has been closely related with that concept from the female point of view. I decided, pretty early on (but not so much, probably 25 years ago), that I wasn’t going to conform to the norm… And that included aging naturally. When I found my first white hair, it was a shock (I was 21 or 22), but I had already seen my father fighting his own hair being white since forever. I decided it was a loss of time, money and effort… And the judgement from people in my generation and in the one that preceded me (my mother, my aunts) was stern and strict: “it will age you, and it will date us. You shouldn’t do that”. Men could do it, given the right age (being over 50) but women must not. Same with wrinkles and sagging and gaining weight and getting “pudgy”. But when men grew older, they needed to make a “show off” of their ability to seduce, to “still be a man”. Aging, then, was undesirable by any standard.

As me and my peers have grown older, and my hair has gotten increasingly silver, there have been women that come to me saying that “I look great” and “they wish they were as brave as me”. I would like to state in front of this jury of my peers (hi, tumblr!) that the only bravery it took was deciding, somewhere between my twenties and my thirties, that I wanted to be as myself as I possibly could, so no bravery at all, just the same lack of understanding of social rules that took me to become interested in… you guessed it, cultural semiotics. We’ve come full circle with this. Now, let’s finish talking about what it means for an aging fan to have an aging star to look up to, shall we?

David Tennant as a cultural Time Lord

I am pretty sure that he wouldn’t have chosen this role for himself (as he wouldn’t have chosen being a massive star just by playing his favorite character and being so talented and charming), but he is, as Loki would say, burdened by glorious purpose. Being “the actor of his generation”, and him crossing so many frontiers with such ease and grace, without even thinking about it too hard, just because he is a hard worker and likes to try new things and is just so good at what he does put him in the exact cultural crossroad for it.

He is not in a sudden need to “resignify himself” as anything: he has already shown his very flexible acting muscles through his very long career. He is not bounded to “keep his public image relevant”: he likes to have his personal life clearly separated from the spotlight, and being married to the brilliant and funny Georgia, who herself grew up with a famous father, so she is no stranger to staying sane and in control in the eye of media, and who manages their social media presence with a good mix of humor and well-set boundaries.

Therefore, he is in a moment where he can (and probably will) chose to do whatever he likes. And he has the public support to do so: he is prestigious and respected, but likes to make fun of himself and is not self-important; he has a lot of awards, but he is also a very likable person with whom most people in the industry enjoy working. And he is up to do a lot of things: heroes, villains, morally grey characters; romance, drama, thriller, fantasy, sci-fi, procedurals, historical fiction, classic plays, silly parts, voice acting… We are going to see him aging on screen and stage, with no playbook: the playbooks were written for people that certainly are not him. And I have some evidence to prove it.

He is starring in a groundbreaking series (yeah, Good Omens) where the protagonists are two middle-aged looking entities, full of queer relationships, written by another trickster. This series, in an on itself, is a showcase for characters that are rule breaking in many ways: in the narrative, by being hereditary enemies who are inevitably linked to one another by a loving bond that may or may not be romantic, but that has been in the making for 6,000 years; in representation, by having the protagonists being represented by a couple of middle aged actors who are “not serious” and “not action” coded, in a role where they are delivering romance, banter, intrigue, joy and a whole other range of emotions that are “not your stereotypical” middle-aged male-lead coded.

He also delivered the baton on a relay race with Doctor Who: he came back after almost 20 years, to bring back the generation who grew up watching him in the role, and deliver us into the arms of Ncuti Gatwa’s 15th Doctor, with the promise of taking a rest and working on getting better from all the trauma The Doctor has endured in 20 years Earth-time (which, as any Doctor Who fan knows, account for centuries of trauma in Doctor’s time). Not your usual Doctor Who Anniversary cameo, but one built to deliver some zeitgeisty emotional health promises that made the specials feel… healing. At least, for some of us.

Even when it wasn’t the hit series it deserved to be, his Phileas Fogg in “Around the World in 80 Days” is also a great delivery of an unconventional middle-aged protagonist, who goes from meek and scared and too worried about societal norms, to a lovely, tender, slightly awkward and daring person, with friends half his age who look at him but are also his peers (another kind of relationship that is not very frequent in media).

And, with all fearlessness, he has played a lively old duck in Duck Tales! Scrooge McDuck has never been a middle-aged character: he is, quite openly, an old gentleman. An adventurer, quirky, with a lot of spunk… but also quite clearly an elder to Huey, Dewey and Louie, and obviously older than Donald Duck (who is also not a young adult himself!). When you watch that series, and if you have the opportunity to catch any glimpse of him behind the scenes while recording the part, you can feel the joy he got from playing the part (and he has said time and again that he IS Scrooge McDuck, so it will become his “recurring bit” for the future).

Hopefully, David (and some other actors and actresses, for sure) will dare to build that new “aging publicly without making an arse of myself” playbook, and I (and I can imagine, many other fans in our middle age, but also fans that are right now leaving behind the “young adult” stage and becoming “adults” fair and square, and others who will arrive to this place at a future time in their lives, so I hope) will be there to bear witness, support, cheer… and learn from the model. Because that’s what fandom is about, but also because that’s how culture itself gets shaped and changes, continuously. And that is exciting and a little scary, and that’s why it is better if we do this together.

And I'd love to imagine diverse (in the full sense of the word) role models for this process and this playbook, too!!!

If you read all the way through this, I'm very grateful, take a cookie, have a gold star and suggest names for our aging interestingly role models on the "non-white-male" side of things!

Class dismissed!!

[deadqueernoldor]

Thinking thoughts about those from Cuivienen and how they later treated the Valar, especially after Cuivienen was destroyed.

I imagine a foundation of sorrow and a layer of betrayal and pettiness. They had promised safety. And how did it turn out? Kin of Tata and Tatie their first leaders, slain in Valinor by the Dark Hunter from which the Valar promised protection in Valinor.

And then, the War of Wrath comes and with it the destruction of Cuivienen.

If any of those were re-embodied in Aman, I wonder if they make it a point to always turn their back to Valar and Maiar. I wonder if they only speak in the tongue they had first devised all those millennia ago and spoke in Cuivienen before time and different kindreds changed the tongue, not Sindarin or Quenya from the Great Journey's time or later. I wonder if they sing songs in their ancient tongue, songs about the beauty and unsullied health of Cuivienen every time any of the Ainur are near.

I wonder if the Valar feel any shame when those who they once looked upon in wonder and love gaze back at them with indifference or disgust.

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 1 : Your Name

Series Summary: You've nursed a broken heart for two years. ‘Love’ felt like a foreign term, but maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach. Chap. 1 Summary: When you catch the eye of your students' dad at a school dance, he starts showing up everywhere. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for the future smut) Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, age gap (joel is 36 reader is 27), no smut (yet), sexual tension, flirting, pining, mentions of alcohol, language, angst, reader's last name is 'Smith' for no other purpose than the fact she is a teacher A/N: This will definitely be a slow-burn fic, so please hang tight!! Tropes include: second chance at love, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, etc. I'm actually so excited about this one, so I hope you guys stick around to see where it goes :')

Masterlist

PROLOGUE

You never thought you’d be the girl sitting at the steps of an abandoned altar with your wedding dress covered in mud from the rain.

 Just minutes before you were supposed to take your first steps down the aisle, your fiancé fled. You watched the blur of his suit in the distance as he ran through the rain and left your family and friends in shock. Motionless at the back of the rows of chairs, you dropped your bouquet and stood in heartbreaking silence as the cords of the violins faded into the air. Your parents and siblings swarmed around you, trying to break the paralysis that kept your eyes locked on the vacant spot under the archway and steps of what would have been the place you said your vows. You still had them in your hand; the words scribbled neatly on a folded paper torn from your journal. You’d never get the chance to say those words aloud; he never would have deserved them, anyway. 

The ring sat heavily on your finger now as you watched it glisten under the pelting rain. Your dress clung to your body in layers of silk and lace, a taunting reminder of who you had become for a man unworthy of your love and devotion. 

Five years together, all stripped away in a matter of minutes. 

You’d never love again. 

“Everyone’s gotta do it,” Maria sighed as she stood at the student drop-off with you.

By ‘it,’ she meant chaperoning the father-daughter dance later in the week, which you seriously wanted no part of. You had been through enough school dances in your three years working at the middle school, and you were tired of watching pre-teens grinding on each other to god-awful music. You had better things to do with your Friday nights, like sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a horror movie playing in the background—you’d sworn off rom-coms long ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, waving another line of kids across the road. 

You watched as they trudged across the crosswalk with their backpacks slung over their shoulders, eyes bright and broad at the realization school was over for the day. If only they were that chipper in class, maybe you’d have an easier time teaching them how to write three-point essays. 

Maria chirped goodbye to each one as they passed, her cheeks pinched with a fake smile only you could recognize. You knew she loved the kids but loved the final school bell even more. You, on the other hand, hated it. The end of school was just another reminder that you’d go back to an empty home and an empty life. 

Two years had passed since Bennett ran from your wedding ceremony—two years without closure or an answer. By the time you had pieced yourself together and returned home from the would-have-been ceremony, his things were gone, and the house filled with the ghost of his presence. Your in-laws went radio silent, avoiding all calls and emails from you until they eventually moved out of state and changed numbers. The hours leading up to the ceremony would forever be a mystery as to why he left, and you would spend the rest of your life fighting for an answer as to why you weren’t good enough to love. 

Dragging you from your thoughts, Maria bumped you with her hip, giving you a concerned look. You shook away the memories and returned her stare with a fake smile you had mastered over the last two years. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had genuinely smiled or laughed without feeling the force of a facade washing over you. Concealing the pain of it all made it easier; maybe if you believed you were okay, you’d start feeling okay. But you never did. Not even the countless hours of therapy had helped reconcile the person you once were. Bennett had left and taken every vulnerable part of you with him, leaving nothing but a raw and broken shell in his wake. 

“You’re doing it again,” Maria scolded. 

“Doing what?” You asked, already aware of the answer.

“Wallowing. You really should get back out there again.”

You focused on the next grouping of kids setting out to cross the street, your hand instinctively coming up to hold the passing cars at a standstill. You plastered on a fake smile as they waved goodbye to you, and you glanced back at Maria once they finally stepped foot on the next sidewalk.

“I’m not interested,” you stated. “I’m fine on my own.”

Her eyebrow lifted as if challenging your blasé response. Your answer always remained the same, yet Maria relentlessly attempted to change your mind.

“You’ve got to at least try. What if there’s already someone out there just waiting for you?”

“Maria, I promise no one is waiting for me.”

“I wish you’d just give it a shot. You deserve to be happy.”

You had heard that phrase often over the last couple of years; a pitying tone always accompanied the words. People loved to soothe you with words that held no weight or purpose. You learned to nod along to their sympathies and turn a deaf ear to their suggestions of what you deserved. 

The final round of kids made their way toward the line of parents waiting in their cars, and you followed Maria back to your classrooms to clean up before leaving for the day. Her words stuck with you on the quiet drive home; the radio wasn’t enough to drown out that taunting voice in your head reminding you that you’d never be enough. 

Your single-story house was nestled into an older neighborhood of Austin, only a handful of miles from the middle school. You’d argue that the house was the best thing to come out of the failed engagement; its personality stood firm against the other houses with a vibrant shade of blue painted over its wooden panels and wrap-around porch. You spent the last few months sprucing up the front yard, planting rose bushes and trees to liven up the house. It hadn’t fixed all your problems but pacified them temporarily as you dirtied your hands in the soil. 

It became second nature to shut your garage immediately after putting your car in park. You didn’t want the typical neighborly interactions or shallow conversations. You were content with living between closed doors and drawn curtains. The less of an interaction with the world, the better. 

Dropping your purse and work bag on the kitchen counter, you sunk onto a barstool, staring blankly at the fridge and knowing all too well there was hardly anything inside it. You’d settle for another frozen meal and glass of wine, a typical meal these days to satisfy a hunger you no longer had. Despite the colorful kitchen cabinets, the mustard yellow couch in the living room, and the obscure wallpaper…your life was dull. How could one person suck out all the energy from another human being? How could pain last this long? 

You stabbed a fork into the TV dinner meal before you and wondered if you’d ever feel happy again. 

**

You managed to survive another week of teaching, only to now be standing in the shadows of the school gymnasium, nursing an overly sweet fruit punch. The PTA had done a decent job of turning the space into a somewhat realistic dance floor: string lights hung corner to corner of the ceiling, a DJ booth in the center of the basketball court, and colorful balloons circled the air. You spotted a few of your students dancing with their fathers, their eyes squeezed shut from their too-wide smiles and bubbling laughter. A foreign ache in your chest reminded you how you would have had a father-daughter dance at your wedding. Your father even took it upon himself to brush up on dance lessons to sway you across the floor to some overly emotional song. As corny as it was, you had been looking forward to that moment throughout your engagement. 

“Look who got all dolled up!” Maria hollered as she strolled over, fruit punch in hand.

“I would hardly call this dolled up,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress.

You only had a handful of dresses in your closet, this particular one being a flowy black cocktail dress with a halter top and ruffled skirt. It was barely passing the school dress code, so you decided to pair it with a low kitten heel to try and deter the admin’s scrutiny. You did, however, spend a little more time than usual on your makeup and hair, hoping if you looked pretty, then maybe you’d feel it, too.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Maria sighed.

“You look great,” you said, sidestepping her lecture.

Maria had chosen a plum floor-length maxi dress decorated with embroidered blue flowers. Her curly hair was pinned in a bun, and several sparkly barrettes were clipped to the side. Her makeup was no different from usual: a rosy red lip and simple mascara with a hint of blush on her cheeks. 

“Really, Maria. You do.”

“Well, thank you,” she blushed, looking back toward the room full of bodies dancing.

Your eyes followed hers, settling on the duos as they swayed to a slow song. Every father was dressed up in some sort of button-up or the occasional suit except for one—the same one who happened to be twirling around your student, Sarah Miller. You nudged Maria, pointing secretly at them with a questioning glance.

“Is that her dad?” You asked.

He wore a basic cotton T-shirt, jeans, and dirty work boots. There was barely any thought behind his appearance as if he had rolled up to the school right after a long shift at work, forgoing any effort or care. Some part of you hated him for it. The least he could do was get dressed up for a silly school dance, especially when Sarah wore a lavender tulle dress that complimented her olive skin tone. 

“Yup,” Maria elongated the word. “That’s Joel Miller.”

“Sure looks like he doesn’t care to be here,” you grumbled.

Maria barked a laugh, looking at you through narrowed eyes.

“As opposed to you?” She questioned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you bitching about this dance all week long?”

“Well, at least I put some effort into my looks tonight,” you defended.

You glanced back at Sarah, seeing her father twirl her one last time. You caught a glimpse of his face for the first time in the flow of his movements. Messy dark curls framed his head, curling in every which way as if he’d run his hand through them a million times. Even from a distance, you could see the patchy beard and short mustache covering the lower half of his face, alongside the several creases around his eyes as he smiled.  And his eyes… They looked like big brown saucers under the lights, reflecting a genuine softness as he watched his daughter dance. 

And then they snapped up to meet your gaze through the crowd as if you had silently called out to him. Everything slowed around you for a moment as he studied you from afar, his eyes drifting down your body and back up with a hint of a smile teasing his lips. A rush of heat crawled up your neck, and you broke the eye contact between you. Maria cleared her throat beside you, tearing you away from the man holding your sincere interest. 

“What was that?” Maria chirped. 

You shook your head, glancing between her curious face and the dancefloor. Joel had since moved on, steering Sarah toward the refreshment table. He never once looked back at you, which left you unexplainably disappointed. For a moment in time, someone looked at you and saw you. 

“I–I don’t know,” you stuttered. “Probably nothing.”

“It looked like something.”

You turned to face Maria, a scowl twisting up your lips entirely. You were tired of her pushing nonexistent things on you, and that’s what this was— nonexistent. Whatever moment between you and Joel had gone as quickly as it came. You were done with the night and standing among so many cheerful people. You couldn’t stand it any longer. 

“I think I’m going to take off,” you announced, placing your half-drunk fruit punch on the table behind you. 

Maria was defeated, knowing you'd still leave no matter what she said. Stalking out of the gymnasium, you grabbed your purse from the teacher's booth and booked it to your car with your heels in your hands. You carefully walked along the sidewalk toward your car, catching a conversation drifting through the wind between the other vehicles. 

“...Dad, you promised we’d watch movies tomorrow!”

“I know, sweetheart, but Uncle Tommy needs help on the job sight.”

You hid between two cars, listening to their voices bounce back and forth. It wasn’t until you peeked out to see the two figures that you realized it was Sarah and her father, Joel. For fucks sake. You tiptoed around the car's bumper beside you, attempting to make a getaway before either of them saw you. You must have done a terrible job because Sarah called your name as you edged closer to your car.

“Miss Smith!”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself. 

With your purse in one hand and heels in the other, you turned toward them with your rehearsed fake smile. Sarah was standing beside her dad—Joel—a small smile shining up at you. You knew her usual upbeat personality in class, always laughing and joking with other kids. She was an A+ student, too, and her work showcased her smartness. But in her father's shadow, a distinct sadness clouded her eyes. 

“Hello, Sarah! How did you like the dance?” You asked. 

“It was really fun,” she grinned, forcing her smile wider. You saw through it. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Joel cleared his throat, extending a large hand toward you. You blinked at his open palm, afraid of making that same startling eye contact as you had in the gymnasium. Shuffling your purse into your other hand, you took his into yours, focusing on the warmth of his grip crawling up your skin. His fingers dwarfed your own, tightening around your hand until you were forced to look up finally. 

“S’nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Smith,” he said, his thick Southern accent shining through.

“Miss Smith,” you corrected. It was hard to hide the bitterness in the statement. 

“Miss Smith,” he echoed. “I’m Joel, Sarah’s dad.”

His eyes still hadn’t left yours, their piercing stare making you shiver despite the September humidity. You pulled your hand away, overly aware of how his fingers lingered a moment too long. Shifting your weight from one leg to another, you were starting to feel the asphalt dig into the soles of your feet. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you replied.

“Joel,” he insisted.

You nodded politely, giving him another faltering smile. Hauling your purse over your shoulder, you said a soft goodbye to them and bolted to your car. In the confines of the driver's seat, you rested your head against the wheel, inhaling deeply as you steadied the nerves inside your body. Why did such a simple interaction light up your body with emotions you had spent so long suppressing? And why did Joel’s smile haunt you even when your eyes were shut?

Forcing your keys into the ignition, you tore out of the school parking lot and back to the confines of your tiny blue home. 

The weekends were usually filled with nothing more than grading papers and lesson planning. The coffee beside you on the kitchen counter had gone cold hours ago as the morning sunlight faded into the afternoon. Through tired eyes, you glanced up at the oven clock: 2 pm. You needed a break from reading through piles of essays, and your fridge desperately required replenishing. Grabbing your keys off the counter, you forfeited any plans of changing out of your sweat set and headed to the supermarket.

The packed parking lot and crowded store were daunting reminders of why you typically decided to leave your fridge vacant. But as you pushed your shopping cart down each aisle, you had no choice but to comply with your basic human needs and stock up on miscellaneous food you would want throughout the week. Rounding down the next aisle, your eyes caught on a tall figure standing in front of the bakery section, his face scrutinizing every cake in the display case. Shit. 

You tried—and failed—to maneuver your way into the next aisle, somehow crashing into an older woman’s cart, forcing her carton of eggs to fall and smash onto the linoleum floor.

“Dammit,” you hissed, crouching down to try and help them clean up the shattered eggshells.

“S’alright, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’ll just holler for a worker to come clean it up.”

“No, I—I can help,” you stammered, fingers still running over the broken yolks spreading across the floor.

“Miss Smith?” You heard a deep voice above you.

Your head snapped up to see Joel standing above you; his forehead creased with concern. The woman you had crashed into was already down the next aisle looking for a store employee, leaving you alone with a mess you had caused. Joel crouched beside you, his hands folding over yours to slow your frantic cleaning.

“It’s alright, I got it!” You snapped, pulling your hands back.

“Just tryna’ help,” he said. “That’s all.”

“It’s my fault. I can fix it.” 

You had said those words to yourself many times before, and never once did they prove true. 

“Someone will come and clean this up; you ain’t gotta do all that,” Joel said softly. “C’mon.”

He offered a hand, which you took reluctantly, leaving you both standing awkwardly in front of the mess. You shifted your gaze downward, too afraid to meet those deep brown eyes that had plagued you the night before. 

“Hey,” Joel said in a soft tone. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You huffed a sigh, gripping the handles of your cart to start moving. Today was going downhill rapidly, and you only wanted to go home and hole yourself away…like you always did.

“I, uh, was tryna’ pick out a birthday cake,” he rambled. “S’my birthday tomorrow, and Sarah wants to make sure I have a cake, ya’know? Any ideas on what she might like? I’m not sure if y’all ever have parties at school with sweets and all that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, a scowl forming on your face. Sarah’s dad was asking you what she liked? He was proving to be worse and worse by the second. But you were her teacher and needed to hold your tongue.

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy anything,” you said, a tight smile forming. “Happy birthday, Mr. Miller.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, clearly seeing through the mask you put on. It was infuriating how easily he had wove his way through your bloodstream, even in just twenty-four hours. 

“Joel,” he insisted. “You don’t need to do all that formal stuff.”

“I kind of do,” you laughed. “You’re my students’ father; that’s how I’m supposed to address you.”

“S’all I’m sayin’ is that you’re free to call me Joel. No harm in it.”

There was a lot of harm in it. 

You didn’t know what else to say, so you dipped your head to say goodbye and pushed your cart past him. You weren’t being the kindest nor the most respectful person, but your anger was at a low simmer. Any longer around him, and you might explode. You weren’t used to someone getting under your skin like he was. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying. You couldn’t understand why you reacted so strongly. 

“Miss Smith!” Joel called, catching up as you moved down the next aisle.

You inhaled and stopped walking, mustering another fake smile to appease him. He gripped the side of your cart with a large hand, a simple gesture to keep you firmly in place. Clearly, he decided when the conversation was over.

“Yes, Mr. Miller?”

“Did I do somethin’ to upset you? ‘Cause I swear, I didn’t mean anything inappropriate by what I said back there. 

“No, no, you’re fine,” you lied. “Just having a bad day, that's all.” That wasn’t a lie.

Joel ran a hand over his neck, studying you quietly for a moment. Something about the atmosphere around him was intoxicating and so fucking dangerous. 

“Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Guess I was just tryna’ make small talk, and clearly, I ain’t doin’ a good job.”

“It’s fine—no need for apologies. I hope the cake and birthday celebration go well. I’m sure Sarah will tell me all about it on Monday.”

His eyes shifted over you again, lingering on your lips, set in a firm smile. You tried your best to hide the shiver that ran up your back as he drank you in. 

“Y’probably think I’m a terrible dad, huh?” He sighed.

“What?” You blinked away the thoughts swarming your head.

“I mean, I know you probably heard us arguin’ last night, and I’m out here asking her teacher what her favorite kind of cake is. You ain’t gotta be polite about it. I know I’m not doin’ the best job,” he confessed.

“Mr. Miller, I don’t think that at all. I just think maybe asking your wife would be more helpful than asking me.”

That garnered a laugh from him, a genuine and sincere laugh.

“Never had a wife to begin with. Sarah’s mom left us when she was only a year old,” he explained. “Been doin’ it all on my own.”

“Oh.” Dammit, you really were a bitch. 

“Trust me, I get it. I could do a better job, bein’ a dad and all that. I’m tryin’.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

He brushed it off, replacing the sad look cresting his eyes with a lopsided grin. You wanted to hate it, but your body reacted traitorously. You felt the softness in his gaze crawl over you, slowly replacing the anger coursing through your veins with something else…something you hadn’t felt in a long time. No one had looked at you that way since—well, since Bennett. Even if Joel was only being friendly, you were drawn to the charm he exuded. Dangerous, you reminded yourself.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I won’t hold ya’ up any longer. I hope your day gets better, Miss Smith.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “And Happy birthday, again.”

Joel’s eyes settled on your lips again as you talked, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. His eyes flicked back up to yours, a flash of something behind them, and you were ready to bolt. He muttered a thank you and left you standing in a vacant aisle, your hands still covered in egg yolks and your mind reeling.

It was hard to maintain your good mood once Monday rolled around. Seeing Sarah sitting in class was an unwelcome reminder of your interaction with Joel on Saturday, and you had to refrain from overstepping boundaries and asking about his birthday. She didn’t need to know you cared, even though you struggled not to care. You wondered what kind of cake he decided on, how old he turned if he blushed when she sang Happy Birthday. Every thought burned a hole in your head that you tried to patch up and forget. 

The final bell rang for the day, and the kids began to pack up in a rush. You straightened out the papers lining your desk, avoiding eye contact with Sarah as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and lined up to leave. Grabbing your whistle and bottle of water, you followed them toward the front gates, taking your usual place alongside Maria—who was overly chipper for a Monday.

“Soooo,” she prodded. “How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” you lied, walking with her to the crosswalk. 

“You really need to go out and have fun! You’re young, and you need to enjoy your 20s!” She exasperated. 

“Maria, I’m 27,” you groaned. “My 20s are practically over.”

She folded her arms over her chest, leveling you with a heavy glare. Maria was in her late 40’s and clearly exuded a motherly-type attitude. You shifted your focus to the kids crossing the road, watching as they reunited with their parents. 

“We go out on Wednesdays for Happy Hour! Join us this week,” she suggested.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“Come on!” Maria pressed. “If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to go out with us again.”

There was no point in arguing with her, so you relented and agreed to one night out. A few drinks and hours of mindless conversation could be good for you. It would be better than sitting in front of the TV with a bland meal and another glass of wine.

You managed to evade all thoughts of Joel somehow the next two days, putting all your time and energy into prepping your students for their first test of the year. Lesson planning and preparation took up your free period and late evenings, leaving you little room to think about those brown eyes and disarming smile. It was Wednesday evening, and you were knee-deep in your closet, trying to find an outfit for Happy Hour. You had changed at least five times, discarding every top and skirt onto your bedroom floor. Eventually, you gave up, settling on tight jeans, a flowy red blouse, and black flats. You left your hair in wavy curls over your shoulders and simple makeup to balance everything out. 

The group took their Happy Hour rituals to a local dive bar on the outskirts of town, a row of motorcycles and trucks lining the entrance. You felt a bit out of place walking into a smoke-hazed bar, with the patron's wandering eyes crawling over you, but you quickly picked out the huddle of teachers in the corner laughing over a round of beers. They welcomed you with bright smiles and hellos, offering to buy your first drink. After about an hour and a few drinks, you felt warm and far more relaxed. Conversations about quarterly goals and admin meetings flowed over the table, each teacher complaining about something. You chimed in when necessary, keeping quiet when you had nothing to contribute. You were on your fourth beer when the girls around you started whispering low about a group of men entering the bar. You stole a peek over your shoulder, eyes settling on the last person you wanted to see. 

Joel Miller.

He had on his usual simple work attire, the fabric of his cotton shirt stretched out over his broad chest. His neck was tanned, most likely from working outdoors, and his hair was just as unruly as you remembered. The man beside him, shorter but with similar features, clapped Joel on the back and steered him towards the bar. You lowered your head, taking a longer gulp of your drink to try and steady your nerves. Of all fucking places, he had to be here. 

“He’s just so handsome, isn’t he?” Maria nudged you, tossing back a look towards Joel.

You shrugged, feigning disinterest. Joel was handsome, but no one needed to know how you felt. Because what you felt was very, very confusing. 

“He’s my students’ father, Maria.”

She rolled her eyes, swirling the contents of her drinks before taking a sip. 

“Okay, and? There’s nothing inappropriate about dating a student’s parent.”

“Yes, there is,” you snapped. “And I’m not even considering dating him.”

“But you think he’s attractive,” she stated.

You didn’t want to respond to that, knowing the warmth in your cheeks was already enough of a giveaway. If you shrunk far enough into yourself, you might go unrecognized the rest of the night.

Maria thankfully dropped the subject, returning to the conversation around the table. After another hour, the ladies started to trickle out of the bar and home for the night. You, on the other hand, still had to wait a bit longer until the alcohol phased out of your body. Which meant you were sitting alone in the same space as Joel. You could feel his eyes on your back the longer you sat there, and to your detriment, decided to steal a glance over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes raked over your body, returning your stare with a soft, welcoming smile. Shit.

You watched as he slipped off the barstool, waltzing towards you with a beer clasped in his large hand. You tried so hard not to notice his thick fingers wrapped around the bottle, and you most definitely tried not to think of what his fingers would feel like inside—

“Miss Smith,” he greeted, silencing your awful thoughts.

“Mr. Miller,” you said.

“Are all these formalities necessary in a bar?” he teased. 

“A couple of drinks won’t change my mind.”

Joel slid into the seat beside you without an invitation, his arm brushing against yours as he settled into the stool. It was instinct to flinch away, afraid of the reaction his touch would cause to your body. 

“What will change your mind?” he pressed, keeping a steady gaze on you.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “How was your birthday?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, that stupid lopsided grin forming on his lips. 

“Can’t say I love gettin’ old, but celebratin’ was sure nice.”

“And how old are you, Mr. Miller?”

“Ripe age of thirty-six, Miss Smith,” he grinned. 

“What cake did you choose?” you asked, watching him take a long sip of his beer. 

“Vanilla. Everyone’s gotta love vanilla, right?” 

Was he… flirting with you? 

You’d blame your following response on the beers coursing through your bloodstream, but truthfully, you just wanted to play along, even only for a moment. 

“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t always love vanilla, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, falling to your lips as you took another drink. It was bold and stupid of you to say that, but at this point, you didn’t care. 

“What other flavors do you like?” 

He leaned forward in his chair, his thigh pressing against yours. The heat of his body and the smell of smoke on his clothes was a dangerous combination for your self-restraint.  

“I have a few guilty pleasure flavors,” you smirked.

Joel’s hand damn near crushed the bottle when you said those words, his entire body tensing beside you. You couldn’t care at that moment about how you spoke; the drinks started speaking for themselves. You hadn’t dared to flirt with a man since Bennett left, too afraid of what falling in love again might do to you. But, for some reason, flirting with Joel felt so simple. He was older than you, and maybe that piqued your interest, knowing he was far more mature than anyone else you had considered. 

“Indulge me, Miss Smith,” he whispered. 

“I think I’ll leave it a mystery,” you whispered in return. “I’ve already said too much as it is.”

“I reckon you ain’t said enough,” he countered. 

Heat flared through your neck and face as he leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. This had gone too far. You had broken any rules you had previously set in place, and now you were dancing on a fragile line between professionalism and indecency. 

Glancing at the clock above the bar, you watched as the hands ticked closer to midnight. Just like in the fairytales, your time was up. Back to reality. 

“It’s getting late,” you started. “I should get home.”

Joel’s demeanor shifted, and his grin faltered as he watched you rise from the barstool. He brushed his hand over your arm, barring you from walking away. 

“Not real sure if you should be drivin’ home yet, Miss Smith. Y’had a few drinks tonight,” Joel protested.

“How do you know? Were you watching me?”

“Gotta make sure my daughter's teacher is safe. Who else’s gonna make sure she gets straight A’s?” 

He was trying to make light of the situation, but you knew better. You knew he had been watching you since he had arrived; his attention had never been on his group of friends. 

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you argued. “You go enjoy your night with your friends, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as he considered you. His hand still lingered on your arm, thick fingers flexing against your skin. You glanced between his hand and his eyes, trying to make sense of his intentions. This was far past a coincidental run-in; this was a strange desire out of reach. 

“Can I drive you home at least?” He asked. 

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least drive behind you to make sure you make it alright?” He offered.

You looked back toward the bar, seeing the man he walked in with staring at you with an apparent scowl.

“I don’t think that’s fair to your friend,” you said.

Joel peered around you and huffed loudly. 

“That’s my brother, Tommy. S’all good, he’s probably ready to hit the road, too.”

“He doesn’t look too happy.”

“He’s fine,” Joel grumbled.

Tommy noticed you both staring at him and decided to join the mix. He walked up with a grin despite the scowl he had just worn and extended his hand to you.

“I’m Tommy. Joel’s brother.”

“Hi, I’m Sarah’s teacher.” You gave him a quick shake and tried to sidestep to leave.

“Wait!” Joel called out.

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. “Be safe tonight.”

You made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape him before he reeled you back in. You let yourself float in his atmosphere for too long, testing the waters you knew were off-limits. There was still an alcohol-induced haze lingering in your head, but the sooner you could leave, the better. Tomorrow would come with a headache and a post-drunken clarity to put you back on the right track. You needed to steer clear of Joel before you slipped up and allowed another man inside the walls you built. 

You attempted to retrieve your keys from your purse, only to fumble them out of your hands and onto the dirt ground of the parking lot. 

“Fuck,” you groaned.

As you bent to pick them up, footsteps crunching on the ground grew closer. You already knew who it was.

“Miss Smith,” Joel’s voice sounded pained. 

“I’m fine!” you shouted, whipping your head around to find him nearly toe-to-toe with you. 

The moonlight above you illuminated his brown eyes, which darkened the longer he looked down at you. You shrunk away, letting your body hit the driver's side of your door while Joel stepped closer. 

“Please. You shouldn’t be drivin’ right now. Lettin’ you leave like this wouldn’t be right of me.”

Your only focus was on his lips as he talked. The plushness of his lips enticed you, leaving you imagining how soft they’d feel pressed against yours. Your control was slipping, and the alcohol was pulsing faster in your veins. 

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” You wondered aloud. 

Joel looked at you like he knew the layers of the question. He knew what battle you were fighting inside and saw the fear plastered on your face.

“No,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes bounced between his eyes and his lips, trying to grasp the moment's weight. You needed to be firm and say no; your future self would thank you for it. Gripping your keys, you exhaled and turned towards your car door. 

“Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. 

The warmth of his body pressed against your back, the smell of smoke and liquor wrapping around you and enveloping you in a cocoon of temptation. Joel’s hands reached around to grab your keys from your shaking hand, dangling them between you and the car. 

“M’taking you home, Miss Smith. Ain’t gonna argue anymore,” he said as his mouth fell to the shell of your ear. 

“I’m—.”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Go to my truck.”

He had the exact tone you did when you reprimanded your students, but the deep rasp of his accent made it all the more inviting. You didn’t want to listen to his demands, but you were getting nowhere successfully. Joel sidestepped to free you of the cage he had you in, watching you intently as you sulked to his truck. It wasn’t hard to know which one it was; only a few cars were left, and the truck exuded the same masculinity as the owner. 

“What about my car?” You protested, folding your arms across your body as you leaned against the truck. 

“I’ll give Tommy the keys,” he said. “He’ll drive it behind us.”

You were about to ramble another slew of protests when Joel yanked the passenger side door open and tilted his head toward the interior. 

“Get in.”

His tone left little room for arguing, so you did as he said without another word. Despite the anger radiating off his body, Joel shut the door softly before heading back into the bar. 

You fidgeted with the seatbelt, the press of it against your chest not strong enough to stabilize the rhythm of your heartbeat. You were in his truck, meaning you’d be alone with him for the next several minutes. It was enough to force a roll of nausea through your stomach. Leaning your head against the window, you watched him reemerge from the bar with Tommy in tow. There was a clear expression of annoyance etched on Tommy’s face, all at the cost of your own stubbornness. 

Joel tossed him the keys to your car before rounding the truck's hood and climbing into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you kept your eyes on the road as it blurred past with each passing mile. 

“Where do you live?” he asked, passing through another vacant green light. 

You rambled off your address, still keeping your gaze steady on the streetlights as they passed by your window. He didn’t attempt to make small talk after that, and the silence settled onto you like a heavy blanket. Your control of consciousness was slipping the longer you sat beside him, but you willed yourself awake. The streets started to become familiar, and you shifted in your seat. Taking a risk, you looked at Joel, finding him white-knuckling the wheel with his jaw clenched. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I—I don’t go out and drink normally. I should have just stayed home tonight.”

“S’okay,” he said, glancing at you. “Just don’t get why you’re so stubborn about askin’ for help. First at the supermarket and now at the bar. I don’t get it.”

A rush of tears stung your eyes, and you quickly looked away, trying to blink them back before he noticed. Joel’s hand fell onto your thigh, sending a jolt of shock through your body. You wanted to shy away from it, but there was no use in fighting at this point; you were already failing miserably. 

“Hey,” he prodded. “Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, alright?”

You swiped away the tears running from your eyes, schooling your emotions back into a state of numbness. Your little blue house came into view, and you pointed a tired finger toward it to guide him in the right direction. 

“This is me,” you sniffled. 

“Big ol’ house, Miss Smith. Y’live here alone?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Miller.”

“I really wish you’d stop callin’ me that,” he sighed, parking his car at your home's fence.

“It’s all formalities.”

“Yeah, I know. I just think after tonight, we’re far past all them formalities and shit.”

Your hand lingered on the door handle as you took one last look at him. Joel’s eyes looked over you with a softness you didn’t deserve. You deserve to be happy. Maria’s words rang out in your head the longer you stared at him. ‘Happy’ was a foreign word to you now, out of reach and out of your control.

“Can I just know one thing?” He asked. 

You nodded, your fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“What’s your name?”

Blame the alcohol…blame your vulnerability…but you told him.

[minhosimthings]

Prideful

Synopsis: You never thought that Lee Heeseung, the man who had proven you wrong in the subject you were best at, would be fucking you on the classroom floor, but here you were.

Pairings: Heeseung × fem!reader, sort of enemies hate sex, includes Sunoo from Enha, and Soojin

Warnings: Smut with plot in the beginning, MINORS DNI, fluffy in the beginning, mention of food, degradation, praise, fingering, oral (f receiving), sex on the floor, unprotected sex (not for you bubs), rough sex, overstimulation, swearing, Heeseung calls reader princess and doll, open ending my babies have fun with that

A/N: idea came into my brain and I thought I'd forget about it and just added it to my wip list but then I was like NOPE IMMA WRITE THIS SHIT. So this makes my third smut for Heeseung (idk why I'm writing only smut for him) enjoy it y'all

Jane Austen once wrote an entire fanfic about enemies to lovers, slow burn, and she thought no one would notice. Well almost no one. Nothing ever gets out of the eyes and pens of literature majors does it? Especially not out of hardcore Jane Austen fans like yourself.

You must have analysed that godforsaken piece of literature atleast a thousand times since you recieved it as a gift for your birthday. And every single time, you failed to understand how such a love could be possible. I mean come on, a man and woman who hate each other, falling in love with each other? Either Jane Austen must have been a reincarnation of Aphrodite, or a madwoman who still kept faith in love.

Your heart nearly exploded when your professor had assigned a full fledged essay-presentation, costing half your grade on Pride and Prejudice. "Explore your opinion!" She had called out cheerfully, "Tell me what your heart truly feels about this beautiful piece and I'll give you a full half grade and no assignments for the rest of the semester." The class gasped in excitement at her words as you pretended to be interested. Internally, you were groaning. Wasting half of your night to make a presentation about a book you hold no love for? The universe really was against you. You picked your books up dejectedly and walked towards the entrance, shoulders hunched and music at a higher level of noise than it should have been at.

"Oh shit!" You cursed, dropping your books at the sudden interruption. A flurry of blue wool flooded in your face, as you leaned down quickly to pick up your fallen books and phone. "I'm so sorry." You apologised not looking up at whoever you crashed into. "It's alright." A voice responded back, and you looked up to see him. Lee Heeseung. You had seen him a few times in class, heard him actually. With his pristine glasses, and his woolen sweaters, he was the definition of a movie nerd. He was actually smart, you had to admit, always quick to respond to the questions that you had no idea about. Best in the class after you, according to your professor. Although his choice of literature slightly weirded you out. You often spotted him sprawled out under a tree, holding Pride and Prejudice to his nose, deeply engrossed in taking in each word.

"Is that The Neighborhood you're listening to?" Heeseung asked, as he handed you your phone, which he had picked up before you had the chance to. "Do you have an ear for them?" You asked, taking the phone from him. His hands felt soft, like the first snow when you were eight. Heeseung shook his and chuckled. "I'm more of a Arctic Monkeys person." You smiled awkwardly and shuffled your feet. "To each his own then."

"Macbeth." Heeseung said, before you could escape from the conversation. "I'm sorry?" You questioned, confused at his sudden outburst. "That line's from Macbeth." Heeseung sent another smile your way, pushing his glasses up from his nose, "Polonius says it, 'To each his own'." You felt a pang of jealousy hit your chest. You didn't know where that line was from. Of course, what normal person would know the origin of a common idiom?

"Cool." Your laugh was not without a tint of awkwardness. "Well-" Heeseung shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "Bye then." "Bye." You bid each other goodbye and rushed off in opposite directions, not wanting to be stuck in another neverending loop of conversation.

"Don't tell me you actually talked with The Lee Heeseung." Your roommate Soojin laughed, accidentally smearing some turquoise nail polish onto your thigh. You quickly wiped it off with a tissue before frowning at Soojin. "It's not a big deal." You scoffed, having another slice of pizza, "I mean he's just a guy. Kinda nerdy actually"

Soojin burst out laughing again, this time shutting her nail polish close. She gasped for air as she pulled out her phone and showed you a picture of a what looked like a frat party. "Girl-" she got up from her leaning position, "Nerdy is the worst way to describe Lee Heeseung. I'm telling you-" she picked up the last slice of pizza, "-he's the playboy representative of this college."

"Oh come on." You scoffed again, getting up to go to the bathroom, "Stop joking around." Soojin shrugged her shoulders as you disappeared into the bathroom. "Whatever you say."

The next day, you strolled into your favourite cafe with your laptop, headphones, a copy of Pride and Prejudice, money in your pocket, a sketchbook, and a positive mindset. Always need one to write an essay right? You were thankful that it wasn't raining today like it had been for the past few weeks.

The cafe was mostly empty, with a few medical students drinking coffee to their death, as they always did. You walked up to the counter, where you saw your friend Sunoo, working his shift.

"Y/N hey!" He flashed his bright smile at you, putting down the glass he had been cleaning. "Hey sun." You clapped back, leaning in front of the counter, "The usual please." Sunoo nodded his head and started to prepare your drink. "So I've heard something." He put on his mischievous smile, one that he often wore when he had gossip on his fingers. "Please tell me it's not about that girl from Chem again." You sighed, as he put a coffee cup down in front of you. "No it's about you dumbass." Sunoo scoffed, taking the money you handed him, "I heard you bumped into Lee Heeseung." You let out a groan at his words, and quickly grabbed your drink, going off to sit in the corner. "Yah take your change!" Sunoo shouted after you to which you shouted back, "Keep it! Your broke ass needs it anyway!"

You didn't get the chance to see Sunoo giving you the stink eye, as you plopped down on the comfortable couch and opened up your laptop. You had prepared a few opening lines the night before, since you had learnt that doing half of an assignment on the day of the announcement is better than starting the next day. Whoever wrote that theory needs to clarify it to you, but hey never pass up a good study tip right?

Immersed by the clacking of the keyboard keys and the pretty syllables decorating your page, you were completely absent from the world around you. Until, you heard a familiar voice, which broke you out of your hypoxia.

Heeseung.

What was he doing here?, You thought, not realising that you were basically staring at him. He was dressed in full black today, a leather jacket adorning his broad shoulders. A single earing dangled from his right ear. He still had his glasses on, which were fogged up completely, courtesy to the weather outside. Chatting away sonderly to Sunoo, as Sunoo prepared his drink in a way familiar to you, Heeseung caught your eye. He waved joyfully to you, akin to a child waving to their best friend. You waved back, not aware of the face you were currently making.

"Hey!" Heeseung said, sitting down in the chair next to you, with his drink in hand, "Working up on the Pride and Prejudice thing?" There were atleast a million other seats empty in the cafe. Why did he have to sit next to you? You didn't really realise how handsome he was, until he was sitting face to face with you. The mere sunlight coming in from the windows seemed to illuminate his face well. "Oh yeah I am." You replied, shooting him a smile, "Same thing?" You asked, wanting to keep the conversation going. Heeseung smiled jovially at you and propped his laptop open. "Yep." He replied and glued his eyes to the screen as you went back to your own work. "The Neighborhood again?" He raised an eyebrow, peeking at your open Spotify. You smiled gently and replied, "Arctic Monkeys?" As if ticking a correct answer, Heeseung laughed and showed you his phone where 'Arabella' was playing. A pretty album cover, you thought, subtle and sleek. "To each his own then?" Heeseung said. You nodded and smiled in response, before dropping your head back down to your laptop.

An hour must have passed like this, both of you hypnotised in writing and editing, and downing the refills of coffee Sunoo was providing you with. You stole tiny glances at Heeseung from time to time. Concentration was a good face on him, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands typing away furiously at the keyboard. He didn't talk to you at all, except for the initial hey and hello. But something about the way he spoke to you in the beginning, about the way he asked if you had a pen, and about the way he said 'Hey you have an eyelash on your nose' made your stomach erupt into butterflies.

Heeseung left before you did and before leaving he had extended a hand out to you. "May the best essay win." He spoke, shaking your hand and showing you his smile. God he never stopped smiling did he? His hand was soft, as was his grip on yours. It felt like how your father would hold your hand when you were little on the crosswalk.

"Girl just ask him out." Sunoo called after you as you were about to leave, "The tension between both of you back there was almost poetic." Even though you laughed at Sunoo's quip, and denied the offer, a part of your mind lingered on Sunoo's words and the way Heeseung spoke to you that afternoon.

The days leading upto the hour of the presentation went fast. Too fast almost. Your mind went over your short conversation with Heeseung atleast a million times, sometimes distracting you from typing. You didn't know where all the red bull cans littered across your room came from, but you remember where you threw every single one of them and why. The presentation was perfect. It must have been checked by your eyes atleast a hundred times. Finally, a time was coming when you would be able to express your true feeling about it. Despise and Trouble ran through your veins as you walked up to the board as your professor called on you to present. The class seemed to hold a tight breath to themselves. Everyone knew you, teacher's pet, best at English, known for using the most difficult metaphores in her essays yet having a straightforward point.

"Shall I begin?" You asked your professor who gave a curt nod and leaned back in her chair, an expectant smile plastered on her face. You returned the smile and turned to your classmates, who seemed most interested in your essay.

"Well to begin with, as one does-" humor was always the best way to start off speeches, which was shown by the subtle laughter of the students, "-I would like to say that Pride and Prejudice may be one of the most despised books I have sitting in my bookcase." You heard gasps around the room as everyone started murmerring. Your professor leaned forward in her chair, her mouth pressed tightly to form a thin line. That's good, you thought, a good way to break into their corneas.

"While most people would disagree with me upon this apparent piece of art, I truly believe that this sort of a romance is highly impossible. And no-dont tell me that this is fiction and in the fictious worlds you can quote unquote 'do whatever you want'." The audience held their breaths back as you continued with your rant. Your professor was watching it all with a smile on her face, knowing that she couldn't disagree with you. After all, you had to present your own opinions no matter how opposite they were to everyone else's.

"Well-" you professor stood up from her chair, as you finished your presentation. It had been a 25 minute rant about the book and by now everyone seemed to be meekly looking at their own essays. "That was brilliant Y/N. Truly brilliant." You professor clapped you on the back, "I must say, you have a flair for arguing in a way no one can find counter-attacks. I wonder why you did not choose law as your major?"

"Because there is another argument to be discussed here."

A cold voice rang through the room, as you were about to laugh at the professor's quip. You spun around on your shoes to face the culprit.

Lee Heeseung.

"Heeseung!" Your professor delightfully responded clapping her hands together, "Well why don't you tell us your opinion then? And we'll see if Y/N can fire back." She sat in her chair again, looking positively delighted at the forthcoming, "A battle of the best wits perhaps!"

Heeseung smiled widely and stepped forward to where you were sitting, plopping down on the opposite chair. Your professor had always kept two chairs facing each other in front of her class, for debates, her reason sounded. And now, as you sat in front of Heeseung and his stupidly handsome smirk, you swore you were going to bring him down.

"First of firsts-" Heeseung began, as everyone's attention caught on you. "-your opinion is speaking from a highly biased perspective." "How so?" You fired back, before he could even breathe, "I had already stated in the beginning, about how this cannot be on a biased perspective, since fiction based in actual words cannot be this animated." Heeseung smiled again, which threw you off track a bit. God he's handsome, you thought, too handsome....

"Of course but must I remind you, that this book was perhaps the first out of many to start with the trope of enemies to lovers?" Why were his eyes like galaxies?, "Jane Austen invented an entire trope, which still remains a genius scan of literature to this day. How could you say it's too animated?"

"Yes but-"

"Furthermore-" Heeseung continued, not giving you the chance to breathe, "inventing new tropes does not break this 'law of literature' as you say. Since there was no law of literature to begin with. So please Miss Y/N-" he leaned forward, looking at you with dangerous eyes, "-don't you dare say that Pride and Prejudice is a worthless piece of literature just because it does not have proof of poetry."

The class let out a breath as you sat frozen in your seat. Someone actually breaking your argument was a first for you.

God, his hair. His pretty curly hair.

You didn't realise how long you'd been staring at Heeseung with widened eyes until your professor clapped her hands together again.

"Well then!" She said cheerfully, effectively breaking you out of your stupor, "I believe this goes for grading both of you an A+. Half of your grade is filled you two! Congratulations!" The class broke out into applause as you thanked her and awkwardly shook hands with Heeseung as the bell rang loudly. "Well class I'll be seeing you next time!" Your professor announced, as everyone started filing out. "Oh Y/N, Heeseung a moment please?"

You stopped your feet from stepping out the door and immediately spun around, marching off towards your professor, seeing Heeseung doing the same. "Yes Professor Kim?" Heeseung responded with those stupid puppy eyes of his before you could. Professor Kim smiled gently at both of you, before pulling out her tablet.

"I need a bit of help from both of you. It'll be sort of a favour to you too." She handed you the tablet, which had a sort of letter open on it. Heeseung leaned from behind you, and put his chin on your shoulder, making your stomach feel clammy. He smelled good too, you thought, like fresh paper.

"An event is being hosted by our Dean for all majors." Professor Kim smiled, "Sort of a career booster you could say. We were instructed to pick two students from our classes to have the assignment of checking essays, and documentations and whatnot pertaining to their majors."

"And you chose to pick us Ma'am? I'm flattered." Heeseung chuckled, as Professor Kim laughed to his quip. "Well you two are my best students." She drawled, "So the assignment I'm giving you is-" she pulled out a huge stack of papers from beneath her desk. It shocked you how quickly they appeared out of nowhere, like magic. "-these are all essays collected by last year's class. I want you to go through them, give them a good critic, and grade them according to you. You will personally grade each one, taking each other's help of course,since it's a group project. And it will lend you a helping hand since you'll be getting a certificate which you can use to get into any company you'd like!"

You and Heeseung glanced at each other and we're relieved to see the same excited expression face back at them. This was a rare opportunity, a diamond of the first water you'd say. And you had to grab it, even If that meant it was with a person you despised with your entire being.

"I'll do it Professor!" You replied positively to which Heeseung also nodded frantically as if to say the same thing. "Great!" Professor Kim clapped her hands together again, "Oh and one rule is you two have to work together in this classroom. Since the Dean wants to provide you with an opportunity to see how workplace relationships doon out."

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you heard her words. You, working with Heeseung in an empty classroom? You would rather have praised Pride and Prejudice.

"Here, the keys." Professor Kim handed you and Heeseung a pair of keys, "You can work in the evening if you want. But make sure to complete it as soon as you can alright? Oh and you can skip classes if you want to do this first, since the Dean is prioritising this before anything else." You nodded in response to her instructions and bowed her goodbye as you and Heeseung walked out.

"So-" Heeseung stuffed his hands in his pockets, "You wanna work on this shit tonight?" "Unless you have any other appointments, sure we can work on it tonight." You responded, coldly, not looking at him in the eye. "Alright then." Heeseung scoffed, "Meet you here at 8?" "Alright." The end of your conversation came a little too fast, you thought, but you couldn't stand looking into his pretty little eyes and talking to him, as if he didn't just embarrass you infront of your entire class a few minutes ago. "Y/N wait!" Heeseung called, running up to you, as you were about to exit the building. "What?" You spun around to face him. "Shouldn't we exchange numbers first?" Heeseung handed you his phone, which had his contact list open. "Why? So you can take me out on a date later?" You shot at him. A smirk tugged on the corner of Heeseung lips, but he resisted, not wanting to anger you more. You looked cute when you were angry in his opinion. "No. Maybe incase you were murdered by someone on the way here, I can call you and scold you on why tardiness is a childish thing to do." Heeseung joked. You smiled sarcastically at him as you handed him his phone back, having typed in your number. "Eight o'clock princess don't you forget now."

Tick tock tick. The clock's quiet sons echoed through the empty class. 'Don't forget.' you scoffed, 'And he's the one who's late.' The time on your watch sounded 8:30 and yet Heeseung wasn't here. You had given up waiting for him, and started on the assignment yourself, already finishing two of the army of papers. You were a hard critic, and it clearly showed in the way you were seeping your eyes through the ink.

"Soojin he's late! I can't come back now!" Your roommate had called you, in the midst of your third paper, complaining about a cockroach in the room. "Just call your boyfriend, and don't be such a pussy it won't hurt you." You scoffed at Soojin, whose scared whimpers were heard clearly through the phone.

"How's the checking going?" Soojin asked, having seemingly calmed down. You groaned and leaned back in your chair, wincing at the crack of your backbone. Your back must have become stiff from the amount of time you had been sitting in that chair. You felt pity for your professors for the first time, having finally been in their shoes.

"Heeseung's not here yet and I'm literally so fed up right now." You complained to Soojin, "That handsome bastard told me not to be late, and now look where I am! Asshole seriously." "He'll turn up, cool down Y/N." Soojin soothed you. You heard a sound of crashing in the background and stifled a laugh, assuming that Soojin must have miraculously jumped from one bed to the other. "I told you he's a playboy." Soojin panted through the phone, "Maybe he's busy fucking some poor girl in his frat house." You rolled your eyes at her statement.

"Please." You scoffed, "He couldn't fuck a girl if he wanted to, with the tiny ass cock he has." Soojin let out a raucous laugh from the other side of the phone. "How the fuck do you know he has a tiny cock?" She chuckled. "Intuition baby." You responded, "And my intuition is never wrong."

"Like how it was on the day of our debate?"

A familiar voice again. But this time, the warmth in it wasn't present. You whipped your head around to the door, where Heeseung stood, leaning against the door and smirking. "Soojin I'll call you back." You cut the call, before Soojin could respond.

"Hey." You called out to Heeseung. "Hey." Heeseung shot back, sitting down on the chair in front of you, spreading his legs wide. An involuntary gulp went through your throat. "What were you saying princess?" He leaned forward, his shirt dropping down slightly, "I have a tiny what now?" The dim lighting of the room, made his eyes look dark, and the leather of his black jacket, gleam more. "I- I wasn't saying anything Heeseung." You responded, turning your chair back to the desk, warmth coming up on your cheeks. Heeseung cocked his head to the side and smirked at your flustered state.

"Really princess?" He smirked, edging closer to you. The smell of his cologne filled your nostrils again. His glasses dropped on his nose, and he hadn't even bother to push them back up. "Heeseung just get to work." You sternly responded, trying to keep your cool. How could you though? When he was so close to you, lips almost touching your ear. "For you information-" Heeseung spoke, turning your attention away from the paper you were working on, "-I had a friend who needed a lift to his dorm, so I ran a little late. But you couldn't wait for me could you princess?" He smirked, laying his hand on top of yours, "Just couldn't wait to critique all those papers like the good girl you are." "He-Heeseung." "Shh don't." Heeseung shushed you, "You want to see how tiny of a cock I really have then hmm?"

"Heeseung we shouldn't." You hesitated, feeling your legs warm up. "No one's gonna know, as long as you don't make a noise alright?" He kissed your neck gently, turning your figure to his, still sitting in the chair. "Oh princess, already wet for me?" He chuckled, toying with the button of your shirt. "Heeseung-" you moaned out, quickly unbuttoning your shirt, as Heeseung took off his jacket and threw it on the desk. You pulled back slightly as your mind came to its proper senses. "Where are you going doll?" Heeseung questioned, hands resting on your thigh, squeezing it from time to time, "Don't worry princess, no one's gonna know."

Heeseung brings his lips down to yours in an instant, wasting no time. You gasp at his sudden actions and he takes advantage of that by entering his tongue into your mouth. You grab at his shoulders while he cups your jaw with both of his hands. Your hands reach his hair, softly tugging at the root and you hear him whine. Heeseung sucks on your bottom lip, catching it between his teeth and pulling it back to look at you. You look up at him and he takes your face in his hands.

“You wanna see my cock baby?” Heeseung asks in a teasing tone as he looks down at you. You could feel the throb in his pants press against your legs as you whimper. “Hee please.” You whine, squirming as he places a kiss between your breasts. Heeseung runs his hands up and down the sides of your body. If he was going to fuck you on the classroom floor right there and then, you were going to let him.

“Oh, you're feeling extra polite today huh? Please, Heeseung.” Heeseung mocks you with a tiny laugh. You groan in embarrassment and hide your face with your hands. Heeseung just lets out another laugh and wraps his hands around your wrists, prying them away from your face. He transfers both of your wrists to one hand, holding them over your head as he uses his other hand to trail his fingers down your body.

“Don’t hide your pretty face now, princess.” Heeseung says nonchalantly as he dips a hand inside your leggings and panties to feel your dripping cunt. His glasses were beginning to fog up slightly as he whipped them off of his face, setting them down on the desk. You clench around nothing when you feel his middle finger dip into your wetness and bring it up to your clit, rubbing slow circles around it. You moan softly as Heeseung teases your clit, never taking his eyes off of your face.

Heeseung begins to rub your clit faster, and you buck your hips up into his fingers. You hear him laugh at your eagerness and he presses soft kisses into your neck. Heeseung takes his fingers off of your clit and he snaps the waistband of your trousers against your pelvis.

“Dirty girl. Never thought you'd be like this.” Heeseung says with a smirk and you dumbly nod your head. The sounds of your heavy breathing and your pussy squelching around his fingers make your legs begin to shake.

Heeseung spits on your cunt to lubricate it even more, and that's what makes you come undone. Your cunt clenches around his fingers, sucking them in as he fingers you through your orgasm.

Heeseung takes his time kissing down your body, letting your need and desperation build by the second. He tugs one nipple and then the other into his mouth, suckling at the perky nubs and massaging your areola between his lips. Your hips are trembling with anticipation, the space between your legs aching to feel Heeseung's kiss.

Stars hover over you, or at least, that’s how it feels. Your eyes are closed, awareness cut off to the world around you except the place Heeseung's face is buried. He devours your cunt like a man starved, swallowing you whole. Heeseung doesn’t come up for air; he doesn’t need to, because all he breathes is you. Your back is arched and arms stretched forward, fingers clutching Heeseung’s hair in fistfuls.

Your thighs are shaking, reflexively clamping around Heeseung's’s face. He keeps forcing them open, demanding full access to your cunt, even as you buck and claw and convulse. Your mouth hangs open in a stupor; a thin line of drool trickles down your cheek and connects to the cold floor beneath you.

Heeseung laps at your slit like he’s never tasted you before, like he never will again. His tongue pads between your lips, upward strokes that end with the tip of his tongue flicking your clit with a firm intensity that has you reeling. Tugging at his hair, trying not to scream his name incoherently, you ride out the longest orgasm you’ve ever had. Tears burn the corners of your eyes, stars bursting in the black sky of your vision. Heeseung doesn’t stop licking your cunt till you release his hair.

“M’gonna fuck you now, okay?” Heeseung says sweetly and you nod your head. He runs his hard cock through your folds, and he catches your clit, making you jerk a little. Heeseung slowly begins to push himself into you and you throw your head back against the hard material of the desk.

“Fuck, knew you’d be tight when I felt you around my fingers.” Heeseung grits out, and he continues to push himself into you until he bottoms out. He starts to move at a slow pace, and he whines when you beg him to move faster. “Fucking whore. Bet you think about me fucking you in class don't you?” Heeseung spits out as he pushes himself harder and deeper into your sloppy cunt. You moan at his words, and you try to reply but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper.

“Hee, I’m gonna cum.” You cry out, and you clench around Heeseung's fat cock.

“ Cum for me princess.” Heeseung. moans out, fucking into you so deep, a ring of your cum and his has formed at the base of his cock. You run your fingers through his hair, harshly tugging on it as you come undone at his expense. Heeseung buries his face into your neck as he cums, sucking at your pulse point. You feel his cum shoot into you and it only prolongs your own orgasm.

After a couple minutes of you two catching your breath, Heeseung takes his face out of your neck and plops down in the chair, pulling you onto his lap. You sit there, dazed for a few seconds, burrowing your head in his chest, his heartbeat reminding you where you were.

"Well that was a whirlwind of emotions." He says at last, when you start to stir from your hypnosis, "You good doll?" You nod slightly and feel Heeseung's arms wrap around you, putting you safely down on the chair, as he put his clothes back on, slowly picking up yours as well.

"Heeseung the assignments." You panic, as he puts your shirt back on you. "It's alright princess." He coos at you, wrapping an arm around your waist, "We can do that in the morning. Let's get you home." He guides you slowly out the door. "So-" he smirks, locking the classroom with his key "Same time, same place tomorrow?"

[frankieunscripted]

My reasons to hate Drake

First things first, I'm the reales- wait, wrong theme. First of all, I would like to say this is NOT an unbiased recap, this is literally just me listing things I've hated about Drake for years. You might as well join in on the hate train. Go watch some YouTube video essays on this if you wanna know more!!! You'll find plentyyyy

Certified Pedophile ("allegedly"): Texting teen girls until they're of age and then go and date them. ew.

Cosplay Gangsta: disrespecting the culture as a whole, but especially what hiphop is about. Flexing money, cars, girls, drugs, clothes bc he never understood hiphop was never about flexing, but about being heard bc you're oppressed, about revolution. Now we got his die-hard fans running around acting like this is true rap. no. "You don't know nun bout dat!"

Culture Vulture: jumping from trend to trend in order to make it "his own", faking accents that he has no business playing with and dropping them as soon as he's done with this specific type of genre bc it's not trendy anymore. Adapting whole "personas" around this, instead of just merely collabing with other artists. Jamaican and African accents are just 2 examples here.

Blackness: Drake never really got out of his acting career. Back on DeGrassi he was acting as a high school jock. Now he's acting like a tough black guy who's from the streets and knows what it's like to be down bad, when this was never his life. Lil Wayne warned him to never change and act tough just bc he would sign to Weezy's label where the rappers were predominantly "gangsta type dudes". And what did Drizzy do? He's acting all tough and "outta dem streets". He's clearly overcompensating for not feeling black enough (I've already reblogged 2 posts about this, pls see these for further context). Drake's mad for not being referred to as a rapper who speaks on being black, when in reality the black experience was never of topic in any of his songs. He also doesn't give back to the community.

Lil Wayne: Drake had relations with fellow rapper Lil Wayne's gf (she actually was of age, ayoooo!) while Wayne was away in prison. Wayne got word of the fact his gf was cheating on him with the young guy he signed under his label and was pissed. Drake, in an effort to smooth out the situation, got Wayne's face tattooed on his arm. Say what you will about portrait tattoos, but this story is just so fucking typical Drake. How the fuck do you think this is gonna help anyone?

Validation: Drake donates money in the music video for God's Plan, only to earn more money with that video/song than he donated in the first place. He felt good about donating and then never did that shit again.

Numbers: As a great man once said: "Crack fiends bought 10 million rocks, that don't mean it's good. It don't mean nothing." (As you can imagine, that man was 2Pac). And with that I say that proving your worth in the industry by numbers don't mean a lot. It means you and your team figured out the market and started producing stupid, vapid, but terribly long albums to maximize streaming numbers, automatically bumping up your place in the industry. This is about quantity, not quality - good rap/ hiphop was never about that. Drake actively validates his music and status with his fame, money and streams and neither him nor his fans seem to get that says nothing about the artistic value of his music. "Numbers lie too, fuck your pride, too!" (I mean really, Baby Shark has 14 Billion views on YouTube - you think that's REAL artistry, Mister Aubrey?)

Cocky Ass Bitch: I would be okay with a lot of his music if Drake just knew his fucking place. He went pop ages ago, but still people (including himself) refer to him as a rapper - no even, as THE rapper, placing him in the Top 3. Sometimes I feel like y'all do this, just to piss me off personally. Apart from everything else wrong with Drake, there's nothing wrong with liking music like his persé. Not everyone likes conscious/ deep stuff and sometimes, when you with the homies, you just wanna chill and listen to something "mindless" - MIND you, I'm not looking down on "non-conscious" rap, I'm just saying not every artist has to be woke/ deep all the time and some "empty" party anthem about girls, fashion, cars and alcoholism is fun at times. These party anthems deserve their place. And a child actor turned rapper turned POP STAR is valid in my books - just not if it's Drake. Apropos cockiness: The dude compares himself multiple times to Michael Jackson and while that got a few good lines out of him, I believe it's close to fucking blasphemy. Drake and MJ on the same pedastal. I mean sure, questionable stuff happening with kids, both of them wildly successful in their industry (mind you, streaming like today wasn't around back then and many of the numbers cannot be compared), but one of them a real talent and the other one some guy who more or less made it as an industry plant. "I can dance like Michael Jackson? / I'd argue your skills really lack, son!" (okay sorry, I know, that was corny as fuck xD) Dude is flexing with numbers instead of poetic abilities -

About the art itself:

Ghostwriters: "What poetic abilities?", I hear you ask - Yeah, don't think I forgot! Best believe I been cooking this one. There's evidence for Drake having ghostwriters - which on its own is fine, don't believe every star writes every single bar on their own. My problem with this is, that Drake keeps his cocky attitude, even though many of his hits aren't really Aubrey-written and also many ghostwriters never get their credit (this is why they're called "ghostwriters", I know that this is not something specific to Drake, but slapping one more name on the credits ain't that hard, when you're worth a billion bucks already). This is the rap equivalent of flexing your homework when you know DAMN WELL copied it off of your best friend and did nothing for that success. I guess his song Right Hand wasn't about a romantic interested after all, but the dudes who been writing it!

STOLEN SHIT: Why in hell is no one mentioning this on here? Drake is KNOWN for stealing other artists' verse metres (referred to as "flows", y'all tumblr, idk how much you guys do know, okay?), melodies, whole beats, samples or verses in general. In no other studio would you see mentions of a "reference track" concerning songwriting. They take a song as reference and build around it as they construct a beat. There's PLENTY of evidence for this happening, one story really had me baffled, where a young indie-rapper met Drake in the early 2010s, gave him his CD to listen to and a whopping 5 years later the indie-rapper realizes Drake just fucking stole his entire song (a really personal one at that) on his latest album back then. Being indie, of course the guy had little to no means of fighting back with lawyers or anything, man's was working a 9to5 job and had other stuff going on. Before you wanna argue with me though: YES. There is a difference between stealing and paying hommage. One famous example is Drake biting Eminem's Superman flow on Chicago Freestyle: "But I do know one thing though/ Bitches, they come, they go/ Saturday through Sunday, Monday / Monday through Sunday, yo/ Maybe I'll love you one day/ Maybe we'll someday grow". The only good thing Drake ever did was changing Em's "Bitches" to "Women" on his song. Other than that: exact same few bars. This is a hommage. Why? Because Eminem, that's why. You can pay hommage to great, well-known artists with good bars. It takes a common ground of knowledge from artist to audience to make a hommage like this work. That can go well. Kendrick copies the flow of a Kanye West song on HiiiPower and it works just fine because you listen to either of the song and think: "Ah yeah exactly, that one part, okay, I see you." You don't pay hommage to a small, unknown, indie-rapper by copying his whole verse about his Mom, when you would never say stuff like that on your records before. You don't, because it wouldn't work. None of your listeners would understand the innuendo at all, because no one ever heard of the "great guy you'd be paying hommage to". So shut up.

Music: It's just not that good. Like yeah, he had a few bangers, but let's not exaggerate. Artistically Drake does not offer anything. If he ever did, he probably left all of that on the first few albums he still rapped on. His delivery sucks, his singing voice sounds like he's tryna be The Weeknd at times but isn't. The lyrics aren't special. What the fuck?

Euphoria: Even before getting deeper into hiphop, I've always hated the way Drake presents himself. When Kendrick said: "I hate the way that you walk, talk, dress" I felt that. I hate the way he "raps", the way he drags his words, the way he laughs, the way he "sings". Just a whole lotta shit I dislike about the guy.

Sneak Dissing: If you want beef then get in line, don't just kinda allude to it, you weak ass bitch

SENSITIVE ASS BITCH: I love a man who's in tune with his feelings but Drake being the cosplaying gangsta clown he is, acts like he's all tough when in reality, you can't really say shit to him, cause he "can't let this shit slide, ay".

Kendrick's Control Verse drops - a verse calling out multiple rappers saying Kendrick will come for them in friendly competition for the crown of being the best. Drake was mentioned. Everyone thinks it's kinda cool and goes along. Drake is mad. In an interview he basically said he found it fake because the next time he saw Kendrick "it was all love" and that he wanted it "to be real. Let it be real then". Okay crodie, next time you get called out in a fair rap competition, best believe I'll sock you in your fucking throat, I gotchu.

The Weeknd doesn't sign to Drake's label OVO after working with Drake for a while. Drake is mad again and feels betrayed. Why you gotta be like this?

Kendrick says that he doesn't wanna collab with Drake because their music is too different, not because of anything personal. He just doesn't see it happen in the near future because it would not match artistically. Drake gets mad.

Drake stopped beefing with Pusha T back in the day. Probably because he exposed his son. But still, if you want beef, then clean up your plate, bc you eat what you order and dont't just start to "let this shit slide, ay"

("allegedly") being involved in XXXTentacion's passing back in 2018 over beef. This beef started because of the flow of X's popular song Look at Me!, which Drake stole shortly after letting X know his management would contact him about a possible collab. As you can imagine, X was never contacted by Drake's people. The kid was 20 years old, man. He said some outrageous shit at times, but no one deserves to go out like he did.

Also, the famous DMX ("Y'all gon make me lose my mind!") once said in an interview that he'd like to punch Drake in the face and I support that. Kendrick and his homies laughed at the clip - as did everybody else, cause it's hilarious if a beast and a legend of hiphop hates Drake. Drake was mad at Kendrick laughing about it and not taking it seriously. What did he expect? Should Kendrick have went after DMX and made him apologize for what he said about lil Aubrey? How old are you? 5?

Drake gets mad at a lot of shit - bottom line. I could go on and on, but I've been writing this for hours, it's half past 3 am and I wanna sleep after uni and work, y'all.

DURING THE DISS-ERTATION: this section is about shit Drake did during the beef with Kendrick.

Saying Kendrick's Like That verse was weak af. That's your core response? Someone flames you and people are already throwing ass to the mere sound of it and you think: "Huh, that sucked anyway." Pathetic.

Calling Kendrick short (over and over and over again) as if his height is under his control/ his fault? - as if that takes way from Kendrick's skill, Kendrick's allegations againt Drake! - as if that means ANYTHING AT ALL to people over the age of like... 12?

Going after anybody's family in the first place. I know nothing is really "off-limits" in a rap battle like this, but please have the fucking decency. Don't mention my Momma, my kids, my dog, my fam, my friends who ain't got nothing to do with the fact that I hate you. I will say I am not proud of Kendrick for getting down on that level himself - but I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy Meet The Grahams and the sheer panic it induced. And sometimes I gotta be a little childish and yell "But Aubrey started ittt!"

Hitting on Whitney in The Heart Part 6. Don't go for another man's treasure, you absolute dog. Accusing Whitney of being unfaithful. My friend, this beef is about us (the Culture) hating you and the things you do. Stop trying to shift this into something it is not.

Reacting to diss tracks via instagram stories and memes, like he's that one popular girl in 7th grade who's gotta clap back to something someone said in school on her IG. Shut up.

Calling The Weeknd and his manager gay. Are we not over homophobia yet? Being queer is not an insult. Also falsely "accusing" people of being gay is uncool as fuck - but oh "You don't know nun bout dat!" bc false accusations are basically everything you do - and also possibly outing someone like that is fucking hurtful as shit. I know the people involved are probably not queer at all, but if they were - period.

Using AI in a song at all. Drake, you already proved you suck. Don't force it down our throats. What part of you thought it would make you look good? What part said it would be good to do in a diss track, when the world knows diss tracks are even more a show of capability than other songs. Nah, you go and use AI. Idc about your "mind games": Using AI Snoop Dogg is just weird as fuck cause the Doggy is still well and alive - if you want him to feature on your song, call the legend and ask hi- oh wait, you knew he woulda said "Aww hell nah!" cause everyone hates you? Huh. Snoop probably woke up one day, hit a blunt and asked "When the FUCK did I collab with Drake?". Anyway, using AI 2Pac is straight up disrespectful, when you know damn well the guy would've hated you if he knew who you'd become. Just doing this because it's 2Pac, because you can and not even asking for permission of Pac's people is crazy. Glad the shit was taken down anyways.

The 8 Mile "Airing Out Your Dirty Laundry"-Trick before the big battle does NOT invalidate future claims on you diddling kids. No. Not even if 2Pac says it first. Nah.

His Damage Control Effort in post to make it seem like/make us believe that he's in control, when Kendrick has been bodying him is hilariously embarrassing. Anyone can claim the mole was fake "all along" after it happened.

Making fun of Kendrick for his verse on Taylor Swift's Bad Blood is just stupid. Look at all the features Drake does. Rihanna, BadBunny, DJ Khaled, Future, PartyNextDoor, Lil Wayne, Diddy, Nicki Minaj, Wizkid, ..... the list is so fucking long (I'm just picking at random songs at this point, cause I do not want my browser/spotify history to be associated with Drake's music. I don't wanna go out of my way to say he NEEDS these people to stay relevant but let's face it: His discography and his success would be different if it weren't for them

Acting like he's so great for "finally making Kendrick rap again" - Sir, you don't write your shit on your own, stfu. You don't invest time and effort into your vapid albums. YOU should be thankful for Kendrick destryoing you, giving us the best few lines out of you in a long time.

Not addressing important shit. We been over the allegations, I will not repeat them in this post cause this is already long enough. BUT y'all on the same page as me, aight? Instead of addressing EVERYTHING, he just responds with diss tracks that aren't terrible but really not THAT good, yk? Not going into the shit that we want to se addressed.

Acting like disstracks need replay value. Idk if this is a Drake or a fanbase problem, but people really act like Drake's tracks were better, bc you can listen to them more casually. "Kendrick basically made a whole song about Drake" - THIS IS WHAT A DISS TRACK SHOULD BE! Notice how we don't call every song containing a diss immediately a "diss track"? That's why. Diss tracks were meant to hit your opponent in the stomach with witty bars, double entendres, nice delivery and good production. Diss tracks weren't meant to be club bangers - bonus if they do end up being some though, looking at you, Like That and Not Like Us.

Not reading into stuff properly or just not listening. This is a small one, but ngl I hate the fact they got the Mother I Sober reference wrong (The song is NOT about Kendrick being abused, BUT about Kendrick not being abused and his Mom NOT believing him and passing her sa trauma onto him, even though he didn't experience that). Also Kendrick explicitly says "DOT, the money, power, respect / The last one is better" on Like That and Drakes response (again) is "Huh, I have way more money than you and in the industry, I'm way more powerful than you. Also, you so short tihhihi." BITCH he SAID respect was the most important of the three and you disrespect him, not by calling him out by his wrong doings but by picking on physical features the man cannot change like a 5th grade bully.

Anyways. phew. If you made it this far... wow. I'm impressed. I'll keep updating this. Thanks for coming to my beef talk.

EDIT: Thank y'all for the positive reactions on this post. If you seek more info/ want me to further explain stuff/ have even more dirt on Drake, let me know and we can work something out. -Frankie out

[awrkive]

[DRABBLE] COLD NIGHTS & BLURRED LINES (m) — JJK.

you were used to jungkook making the first move every single time but this particular night, you couldn't help but change things up a little bit.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (minors dni pls)

WORD COUNT 4.1k (this is def not a drabble anymore but its like 70% smut anyway saur 🤷🏼‍♀️)

WARNINGS/MISC jk in grey tracksuit 😢 oc is not a procrastinator everybody booed. kinda domestic vibes everyone wants to have what they have including ms delusional me !! this is my literally me fic kinda (this is literally just oc thirsting over jungkook OEBDIDHSJEB) also imagine 3D jungkook guys.... 🙏🏼 smut warnings: oral s*x (m&f receiving, 69 position), penetrative s*x, multiple positions, overst*mulation, creampies, unprotected s*x (dont fls 🙏🏼)

NOTES heyyy so i reread cnbl last night and scrolled thru unanswered messages on my inbox and found these 2 (amongst many IEBDIDHSHD) drabble reqs for cnbl and decided to write it bcs i love and miss them!! unfortunately i lost my ao3 password and i have nowhere to post this so whatever im gonna start posting here again LMFAOOOO. anyway, i hope u guys enjoy this 💗 this is most esp dedicated to the second anon i hate college as well i hope this drabble brings you joy ☺️

‼️CN&BL FULL FIC CAN BE READ HERE

You missed who you were thirty minutes ago.

Before Jungkook arrived, you were extremely focused on the essay you've been stalling to get done since last week.

You were set on finishing the paper tonight, determined to submit it a day prior to the deadline – which is two days from now. You've never been a procrastinator and you wouldn't dare start now. But ever since Jungkook called, arriving a little over five minutes after your conversation on the phone and entering your dorm room, you have never been the same. Gone was your will to finish your essay; it yeeted out the window the moment he came in.

It wasn't that he was doing anything wrong, per se. He wasn't pestering you or doing anything to distract you from doing whatever it was you were doing. During the phone call, Jungkook told you he just wanted to hang around and you were in on it. "As long as I finish this essay without you doing anything funny" – that, was what you said. Joking, a little pointed, when he came barging in your door, socks on and hair still slightly wet from the shower he most probably had at his own apartment.

When you said those words, the goof just wiggled his brows, smirking with a look of mischief written all over his face, and then kissed you in such an unnecessarily passionate way that had you internally keening when he broke away. That gave you an initial idea that he would, indeed, do some funny business. If you were honest to yourself, you wouldn't have really minded that at all.

That was thirty minutes ago. Jungkook surprisingly hasn't tried to touch you at all for the past thirty minutes. In the present, he is just sprawled on your bed watching something on your stupid iPad, airpods plugged in both ears, letting you work in peace on your laptop.

Thirty minutes ago, that would've been fine. Because ultimately, you could focus on your essay and finish it then pass it way before the deadline but no, your problem right this moment does not lie on phonology, it lies on why does Jungkook have to lean his back on the headboard, thick eyebrows meeting each other every now and then as he watched his movies, and put that white t-shirt and grey sweatpants on himself?

You've been having an internal battle with yourself trying to fight the urge to look over your shoulders for him every three damn minutes, groaning quietly as you thought about how Jungkook looked so ridiculously hot doing the bare minimum. Literally nothing. He was doing absolutely nothing. And he was making you feel weird in your belly!

Wait. Is it your period? It ended two weeks ago, though, so that is definitely not that. Maybe you are ovulating? You'd have to check your flow app.

Absent-mindedly, you let out the begrudging moan you've been trying to hide.

"God."

As if alarmed, Jungkook suddenly shoots up and speaks after what felt like centuries.

"You okay? Am I bothering you here?" He said, voice dripping with honey and face full of concern. You got even hornier.

Oh my god. You wanted to cry.

You send him a tight-lipped smile. "I'm fine. And uh, no. You're good."

Jungkook doesn't pry further and goes back to his binge. Meanwhile, you force yourself to think of something.

Another long five minutes later, and you are still halfway done with your essay. The unfinished document only seems to taunt you. So, you let out another sigh, quite quiet this time so you don't make Jungkook think he was being an inconvenience. You made up your mind and just decided to give in to your urges.

You shut your laptop down instead of pressing sleep as you are sure there is no way you can do any more work tonight.

Standing up from your seat, you approach Jungkook on your bed.

He looks up at you the moment you hovered over him, taking his eyes off the iPad. When the mattress dips from your weight, Jungkook's lips stretch into a cute smile.

Your horniness dissipates a little over his adorable face.

"Done?" He asks, lifting a hand over your face to tuck a strand of hair away that you didn't even notice. You shake your head. Jungkook leans down to kiss your cheek. "So, tired?"

You scrunch your nose. "Kinda."

He kisses your mouth when a pout forms there.

"Eaten anything yet?" Jungkook scoots over to the side to make room on the bed for you. You fit yourself in the space, albeit tight (this was a dorm room, alright), and Jungkook is quick to slide his arm under your neck while he still holds the iPad on the other.

"Just reheated some leftover pasta from last night." You cringe over your last meal. It didn't taste good at all but you were way too hungry and delivery took forever to your dorm.

Jungkook seems to know that that pasta was shit, but he doesn't comment on that. Just hums and kisses the side of your head.

Ugh.

"Wanna order something in? Thai?" He suggests, looking at you.

But right now, eating Thai or whatever is the last thing on your mind. Though you would like to eat something else.

You tell him so. Except the last part, of course. Please. You have decorum.

"Uhm, no. I think I'll pass on that. Unless you haven't eaten." you say, playfully pointing a finger to his chest.

"Nah, Taehyung cooked dinner. I'm pretty full." Jungkook says, chuckling.

You had a smart remark on your tongue, something along the lines of, "Then why'd you offer to eat if you already have, weirdo" but to be honest with yourself, you already knew why. Jungkook liked seeing you eat. Dude practically buys most of your meals, now that you think about it.

But your still horny-adled brain went to go and tell your hand to search for his bare stomach under his shirt. And so it did. Forget about having decorum, shame is out the door when you press your palm to the flat surface of his stomach.

"Doesn't feel full at all." You commented, feeling the hard ridges of his abs. You hate them right now. But you would also really, really, like to see them.

Jungkook only chuckles at that. Before he can say anything, you ask him, "Hey, quick question."

"Hm?"

"Can I suck your dick?"

"Huh?" Jungkook, ever the man he is, put the iPad away for the first time since he's been here. Confused, but still, you could not have mistaken the look of pure interest in his face the moment you asked him that.

"I want to suck your dick, if you let me." You say, clearing yourself up. You are putting on a brave face, but internally, you are screaming.

So what if this thing between you has been happening for like… ten months now, almost a year? Jungkook was usually the one to always initiate sex and blowjobs were almost a rare occurrence in your sex life because you told him it hurt your knees but the real reason was because you didn't think you were very good at it. Jungkook never asks for it either, and sometimes you feel bad for only reciprocating handjobs during oral sex quickies but! He never says anything about it so maybe that was fine? Anyway, it's not like this is gonna be your first time sucking him. It's just the first time you initiated with your own words.

"Oh, you're serious?" Jungkook scoots over to his side and lays sideways to prop himself up. "Really?" He has an excited smile on, and you know that because of the way his eyes crinkle.

"Don't make me repeat it." You say pointedly, pushing him a little bit. Jungkook doesn't even budge at the slight attack, only holds your hands in his.

"No, I just… I thought you said no fooling around tonight." He says.

You shrug. "Yeah, well."

You don't expect him to tug you closer to him using his hold on you, and you were thankful you managed to suppress a loud squeal when he laid on his back and caught your whole body on top of his.

"I guess you can't resist my charm, after all." Jungkook says, grabbing a handful of your ass.

"Jungkook, please, you're scaring my lady boner off." You roll your eyes as you adjust yourself on top of him to get more comfortable.

"Take care of my gentleman boner then, baby." He counters and just because of that you avoid the kiss he was about to give you.

"Don't ever say gentleman boner ever again." You pinch his nipple and he let out a laugh at your petty retort. You knew he was sensitive there. But even then, you were starting to feel the growing need concealed under his sweats, and you were set on giving him the blowjob of his life tonight for some reason.

"I have a suggestion to make," Jungkook says suddenly, stopping you from crawling down to his body. You arch your brow at him, he continues, "I don't think we've ever tried sixty-nine, yet, haven't we? Because I also really want to eat you out right now."

"Oh, well, yeah…" you nod. You find yourself heating up at the way he casually tells you the last part.

"So…?"

You haven't really tried that either, and not just with him, but also with your other sex partners that only really summed up to less than four people, and that's including Jungkook. Anyway, the sixty-nine position sounded interesting.

"Okay, sure." You shrug.

"Fuck, you're the best."

This time, you give in to the kiss he gives you and pretty much after that it turns into a heavy make-out session with Jungkook fondling your boobs underneath your overused highschool PE shirt while you ground down against his erection that only kept growing harder as seconds passed.

You are panting when you break away, a string of saliva in between your lips, breathing for some air. Jungkook kisses his way down your neck, suckling on your skin and soothing it with his tongue.

"Take your shirt off," you say, already impatiently tugging at the hem of his clothing.

Without a word, Jungkook frees himself from the fabric. "You too, and your panties. Please."

You chuckle at the "please" but nonetheless straddle him to take your shirt off. Jungkook looks up at you with hooded eyes, massaging the bare skin of your waist as you wriggle your hair out of the neckline. He grips your waist as you lift your bum off his stomach, pulling your panties and shorts down in one go one leg to another.

"Shit," Jungkook hissed at the sight of your glistening pussy that has gotten wet overtime, hands roaming all over your body like he doesn't really know where to touch. Always fascinated and in awe with what you show him, always so eager, so touchy. And you always love his undivided attention. Makes you feel like a princess for some reason. Doesn't help that he calls you that sometimes, too.

"Oh, fuuck," he groaned when you sat on his stomach. You couldn't help but let out a quiet moan, too, feeling his hot skin and your cold pussy touching together. "Angel, fuck, come here, let me kiss you."

You lean down to kiss him and he quickly reciprocates, his tongue entering your parted mouth, swirling and licking inside, taking your breath away. You could feel yourself smearing your wet mess on his abs but you couldn't really care less, not when Jungkook looked like he couldn't, too, squeezing every inch of you he could get his hands on. And they were everywhere, alright. Your breasts, your waist, hips, ass, his thumb on the inside of your thighs, all the while kissing you like he was hungry for it.

Jungkook jostles you a little when he lifts himself up a little to slide down the grey sweatpants you have a love and hate relationship with, his dick shooting up his abdomen and touching your ass as a result.

He stops kissing you.

"Alright, one more minute of you grinding against me will make me nut. Sit on my face now, baby."

Blood shoots up your cheeks, making you feel hot. A little funny, given what you are doing right now. But he can't just be so casual about it! He was asking you to sit on his face like he was telling you the grass is green. Regardless, you kiss him one last time.

"Don't suffocate." You warned him, already reversing your position as easily as you can so that your back is facing him.

You hear Jungkook chuckling from behind. "Please, I'll die happily suffocating in this pussy."

"Please don't talk about dying." You deflect, already feeling so shy about the whole thing. Indeed it was your first time to try this position, and you quite didn't know how to act. You wonder if he's done this already in the past, but found yourself irritated at the thought of him doing this with anybody else. You'd have to assess what that feeling of irritation means later.

"Hmm," Jungkook hums, grabbing the globes of your ass and fondling them before you could even properly place your knees on both sides of his head. With his hold on the flesh, he pulls you closer to him until you feel his breath on your core. "Ah, shit, will never get tired of this pussy, baby. Fuck, you're so wet."

You try to focus your attention on his hard dick against his stomach, veiny and rigid, red at the tip and shining with pre-cum. Wrapping your fingers around the base, you lean down a little more so that you can begin teasing him.

But Jungkook beats you down to it as he licks a long stripe across your pussy. It has you keening and stumbling a little over, feeling so good at the contact of his tongue against your sex. You hear him hiss before he says, "Come on, pretty, sit on my face, don't hover."

You hesitate before giving in, and Jungkook is quick to continue the ministrations of his tongue on your pussy. The position was so new to you but you couldn't help but think it was so good, feeling him this way, albeit still a little conscious about cutting off his air supply. But as Jungkook starts licking and sucking, you remember his cock in your hand and it prompts you to stroke him up and down; slow, because your mind is cloudy from the way you could hear the slick of your pussy from Jungkook's licking.

Leaning down, you kiss the head of his cock, licking his pre-cum off the top. There was Jungkook's groan again, and you thought that was a good sign, then continued to suck his tip a little just to see it getting even redder.

Jungkook suddenly gets more aggressive in the ministrations of his tongue, from his slow yet precise strokes, he starts increasing speed, fingers getting tighter on your asscheeks, the tip of his tongue prodding at your entrance giving you a taste of being full.

It prompted you to whimper, Jungkook only humming, seemingly pleased with himself. Letting out a shaky breath, you resume stroking his cock, twisting your fingers around the base. Soon, you lean even closer so that you can wrap your lips around the head.

Jungkook's groan was a pure sinful sound of pleasure as you did so. Nevermind that he was having his own feast on your pussy, you were determined to make him cum. And to do that was to suck on the tip gently at first, swirling your tongue on the cum that's building up on it. You joined the motion of it with your hand stroking the shaft up and down, cheeks hollowed and sucking the air in your mouth to create a suction that has Jungkook slightly jolting in his position.

"Oh, fuck yeah, baby, that's it, you're so good at this… shit," He says behind you, moving his mouth off your pussy and replacing it with two fingers. Jungkook slides them in easily, the squelching sound so apparent it cannot be mistaken for anything else if there was anybody but you two in the room. "You like this, baby? Hm? You're taking my fingers and my cock so well."

You moaned around his cock, heat starting to spread all over your body as Jungkook began to join his digits with his own mouth, devouring your pussy like he always does when he goes down. You start losing your rhythm on his cock, choking on it a third time now as you haven't really managed to fit it all in your mouth. You've always tried to, but he's always been a little too big for you. If it was a skill issue, you didn't care, Jungkook enjoys it just as much as you do.

When Jungkook rubs your clit, that's when you start shaking on your knees, threatening to crumble down.

As if he knew what was coming, Jungkook suddenly says, "Don't come yet, baby, not now." and you swear you would have actually cried.

What you didn't expect is Jungkook suddenly sitting up, his hands gripping your hips so that you don't jostle on top of him. You let go of his dick as he slides you off his body, and you let him manhandle you into sitting on his cock that slides in too easily like your pussy was fine silk. You now sit on top of him in what seems to be like a reverse cowgirl position, except that you aren't the one in control of your own movements.

"Oh, K-kook – Jungkook!" you yelped as he bounced you on his rigid dick, your body melting against his.

"Shh, take my cock, angel. You can do that for me, right? You're so pretty right now, I wish you could see yourself." Jungkook whispers against your hair, and you pathetically nod, craning your neck up at him to seek for his mouth. He smiles at you, the gentle nature of it so contrasting to the way he was controlling your hips, bouncing you in and out of his cock. "My pretty little angel."

He kisses you passionately, and as seconds passed his hands began to travel upwards to cup your breast, fondling it in his hand and pinching your nipple. You also started to initiate your pwn movements, meeting Jungkook's thrusts from below you, all the whole moaning in his mouth at the pleasure of his cock touching every crevice of your pussy.

The feeling of this never gets old even if you've done it exclusively and quite constantly with each other for the past ten months. Sex with Jungkook is always just so intense it always keeps you on your toes.

"K-kook, I'm cumming," you gasped in his mouth, feeling that build up in your belly

"Hm," Jungkook leaves your boob in favor of your pussy. Kissing you one last time on the mouth, he leans against your shoulder to watch as he spreads your nether lips. You look down to his hand there, fingers spreading the lips apart witnessing your own hole getting split open by his engorged cock. The sight was so lewd and obscene you couldn't help your moan. Then, Jungkook begins rubbing your clit again, fast and with a purpose, this time to make you finish. And he finally gives you the green light to do so. "You can cum now, baby."

And as if prompted by his simple words, you came, feeling a gush of wetness coming out of your pussy. You watch the way Jungkook kept his fingers in there, massaging your hole and kissing your neck.

"Jungkook…" you bury your face into the crook of his neck as you come down from your high, pussy throbbing and spasming from the intense feeling of cumming. He did edge you from when he ate you out.

"Good girl."

And again, Jungkook changes your position. From sitting up, you are now laid against the bed again, with him switching your positions so now he's the one hovering and you underneath him. He grabs your hips up and enters your pussy once again, sliding his cock in and out to chase his own orgasm. Your moans only encourage him to go faster, his grunts filling the room.

"Oh, that's it, Kook, you come for me too." You say, reaching for his stomach with one hand and fondling your own boob with other for his own consumption. Jungkook always liked seeing you play with them.

"Yeah, you're so sexy like that," he says, even picking up his speed higher.

Soon, he was cumming with a pained groan, and you didn't expect to cum a second time the same time he did.

Another gush of slickness slides down your pussy while Jungkook pulled out completely. But he was putting it in again a second later, rubbing his dick against your core. You sigh, partly at the sensitivity but also how pleasurable it all still felt even though you've come twice now in the span of almost what? – thirty minutes? Maybe an hour?

"Pretty fucking pussy you've got here, baby," Jungkook says before pushing his cum back into you, making you cry out. "Never gonna get enough of this. Of you."

You whimpered, clinging to his forearms as he continued his actions.

"Cum for me one more time?" He asks, staring deeply into your eyes.

And you couldn't possibly do that. Coming twice was not at all what you envisioned your night to be, thrice was a heart attack. But at the same time, you couldn't really resist his pleading eyes and his deep voice and his still hard cock pushing his creampie deeper into you.

So you nod your head, and Jungkook leans down to swipe the strand of hairs that sprouted all over your face overtime, wet on the hairline from your sweat, just before he slides his cock all the way in again, repeating that in and out routine, the slamming and the bottoming out, the quickening oh his pace and your toes curling once again that impeded your orgasm for the third time that night.

When you finished, exhausted and spent the fuck out, Jungkook laid on your boobs and kissed all over, playing with one of your nipples in his other hand. You were flat on the bed, dead weight, looking up at the ceiling and closing your eyes to cool yourself from what had just happened.

"Okay, that's enough, Kook, we gotta clean up." You say, massaging the soft curls on the top of his head.

He only let out a non-committal hum.

"Jungkook."

"Yes, baby?"

"Enough sex. I'm fried." You say, pulling his hair slightly to make him look up at you. But that was a bad decision of course 'cause he only seemed to enjoy the teasing.

"Just saying hello to these amazing boobs of yours." You rolled your eyes at his retort, nonetheless accepting it.

"Thanks, I guess."

Eventually, Jungkook stopped being clingy and finally found the will to fetch a wet rag from the bathroom. He cleaned you up and and you didn't bother dressing up except the panties you asked him to get for you. Soon after that, you cuddle together in bed.

"Hey," Jungkook suddenly whispers behind you, fingers massaging your hip, mouth press to your head. You hum. "I think we should do that more."

You try to look over your shoulder. "What? The sex?" you say, chuckling.

Jungkook pinches your hip. "Yeah, I told you we should have sex everyday. But that's not the point, I meant the sixty-nine."

"Well, first of all, having sex everyday is physically not possible," you roll your eyes though he couldn't see. "Second, I enjoyed that position, too. A little bit distracting, but definitely really enjoyable."

Jungkook agrees. "I think you just gave me the best blowjob of my life, if you wanna know."

"Really?" you confirmed, smiling up at him.

"Almost nutted when you sucked my head."

You chuckle, slapping his chest and roll your eyes again for how many times now?

"No but seriously…" Jungkook suddenly turns, indeed, serious. But he's still smiling, though, just a little less playful with his tone. "What was with you tonight? Did you finish that essay?"

Oh god, your essay. Right.

You feel your cheeks heat up a little remembering how you were basically thirsting over him him a while ago. And for no reason too.

Despite cringing internally, you shrug. "No, not really, but submission's two days from now and I just wanted to kiss you, I guess."

That made Jungkook's smile even bigger. He doesn't say anything more but only scoots even closer to your neck, kissing your hair.

"Hm, I always wanna kiss you too, and I do. But I love it when you ask for it."

You think you'll start doing it more, too.

all rights reserved © AWRKIVE , 2023

[19catsncounting]

I Got Really Into Anti/Proship Discourse And Read +30 Academic Studies - My Findings

(It’s a Yapfest but the whole post is a very long essay and study on morality and fiction and children’s safety and rape culture with a fuckton of freely accessible academic articles and resources on the subject, and I want to talk to other people about it. For a shorter abstract with all the articles and more easily ignored yapping, see my shiny new Carrd:)

It’s been a little shocking lately to have certain discussions with some parts of fandom. I spoke about shipping/harassment and how that contributes to the death of fandom on TikTok assuming that younger folks are just really, really intense about preventing sexual violence, but the more I saw the words “morally wrong” and “disgusting” and “addiction,” the more I thought about this guy-

That’s Jerry Falwell, and I fucking hate this dead guy. You see, Jerry Falwell was a preacher who hated porn, feminism, and homosexuality. And I'm seeing his rhetoric and reworked quotes a lot.

Jerry would say stuff like:

“Pornography hurts anyone who reads it - garbage in, garbage out.”

“Someone must not be afraid to say ‘moral perversion is wrong.’ If we do not act now, homosexuals will ‘own’ America!”

Jerry wanted people to believe that it’s possible to see so much sexual content that it warps your sexuality, because he was gay and wanted to think that was due to thinking about gay sex too much. Jerry did not have a lot of evidence to prove that homosexuality was harmful, so he relied heavily on how “morally distasteful” it seemed to be to suburban Americans.

I spent the majority of my teen years arguing against Jerry’s rhetoric for the right to live as a lesbian online, and I never thought I’d see morality rhetoric in people I’m otherwise very politically aligned with. And I definitely never thought fandom of all things, in all its beautiful subversive glory, would seriously start advocating for censorship, anti-porn, and to consume fanwork with moral purity.

So, I’d like to have a deeper discussion on it, both here on Tumblr and on TikTok, but that does mean checking a few things at the door:

Personal feelings decide your personal life. What you feel is valid for you, not anyone else.

In general, things that do not cause direct and undeniable harm should not be broadly prohibited just because they’re weird or distasteful to the majority of folks. Ex. Loitering does not cause harm and is a tool of systemic oppression.

The discussion of “fictional CSEM” is the most inflammatory fork of this and it is often used to derail these kinds of conversations. This is all I will say on it - the legal status of explicit visual depictions of minors is muddy. In the US, there is just one dude in Utah who pled guilty for possessing explicit lolicon he bought by mail order without also possessing CSEM with real children, and explicit writing about fictional minors has been settled as protected free speech. Dedicated organizations from the NCMEC to Chris Hansen have asked that fictional content is not reported as CSAM as it is not actionable and clogs up finite resources. 90% of NCMEC reports were not actionable last year. There are studies suggesting that virtual CSEM or other non-victim alternatives could reduce actual child harm, but there is need for further research.

We’re all in agreement that untagged NSFW is not cool, and kids deserve kid-only sections of the internet. People who are triggered by or dislike problematic content deserve to be able to not see it. 👍

 (I’ve seen the argument that blocking tags/people should not be required - sorry, PTSD still requires that you manage your triggers, up to and including swearing off platforms just as I have sworn off bars/soap brands/etc to avoid my triggers.)

I have found a lot of accessible and free articles and studies that I will link throughout so that we can discuss the fact-based reasoning, in an effort to have a civil conversation.

(Also because we are not flat earthers, we are Fandom, and if we’re going to be annoying little shitheels in an “Um Actually” contest, we’re going to have the sources to back it up.)

Minors and Explicit Material

I’m not supporting minors engaging with explicit material. I have such little interest in the subject that I’m not even going to bring in articles, but you can feel free to. I personally engaged with explicit material as a preteen of my own free will and did not find it to be harmful, and the majority of people throughout human history have been exposed to explicit material at an early age with varying degrees of harm. There are undeniable legal and harm-driven differences between a 12 year old girl looking at Hustler on her own, a 14 year old boy being sent nudes from a grown woman, and a 6 year old viewing PornHub. (And I think the guardians of that 6 year old should be charged with grooming just like the woman, tbh.)

Personal Disclaimer

I’m an adult survivor of CSA and incest. I’m a happily married adult. I don’t personally like lolicon/shotacon/kodocon. I don’t like kids. I don’t like teens. I’m personally not attracted to underage fictional characters. I have family, the idea of fucking any of them makes me want to throw up and die, so I don’t write or read RPF of my family.

I am really, really fucking intense about preventing sexual violence, supporting survivors, and fandom, which is where this all comes from.

I read and love problematic fiction - my favorites are ASOIAF, Lolita, and VC Andrews. The most “problematic” thing I’ve personally written are Lucifer/Michael fics from Supernatural back in 2012. They are “brothers” in CW Christ, not blood. They do not have any blood.

Gen Z and Online Grooming

In 2002, a survey of 1500 minors from 10-17 found that 4% had been solicited for sexual purposes by an adult online.

In 2023, that number increased to 20%.

While the linked 2023 Thorn report suggests that the vast majority of these inappropriate interactions happened on platforms that allow for interpersonal communication, which by and large minors were greatly discouraged from and had less access to in the early 2000’s, a trauma-informed approach does not allow for blame to fall on the children. The guardians of those children have monumentally failed to restrict and educate before giving children the means to access those platforms.

It is my uncited but personal opinion that the increased rate of grooming, as well as an increased interest in combating rape culture, has led to well-intentioned individuals to become digital vigilantes attacking those who they hold responsible for their traumatic experiences in a search for catharsis and justice denied for themselves as well as a desire to make the internet safer for other children, whom they are increasingly aware are entering online spaces unsupervised at distressingly young ages.

Is harassment and bullying bad for perpetrators of it?

Before we get into how ship-related hate campaigns do not affect predation or combat rape culture, we should acknowledge that it’s actually pretty harmful for the people who cyberbully. Not just in the legal/social consequences, but people who participate in cyberbullying and cyberhate campaigns have higher rates of depression, estrangement from their parents, self-effacing habits, social anxiety, lower empathy, and so forth.

One study suggests that the treatment and prohibitive for cyberbullying, which contributes to a culture of cyberhate and a lower likelihood to report or confront other incidents of harassment or toxicity online, can be combatted with media competency to increase empathy along with other important life skills.

Some Common Pro-Censorship Myths

“Pornography is Addictive/Consumption of Pornography Leads to Increasingly Hardcore Imagery And Ultimately Real-World Violence” - The American Psychological Association does not recognize Porn Addiction as real and the DSM-5 does not classify it as an addiction. Additionally, many methods used in articles claiming that porn is addictive or causes users to seek out more hardcore material were flawed or biased. There is actually some evidence that compulsive porn use, the closest you can get to a porn addiction diagnosis, is associated with shame and the user’s belief that pornography is morally wrong, which sex-negative attitudes encourage.

“Jaws caused shark culling” - That's unfortunately a simplification that ignores a LOT of surrounding context. WW2’s modern naval battles with an increase of ship sinkings and thus contact with sharks prompted the invention and use of shark repellant by aviators and sailors in the 1940’s. The most deadly and famous shark attack of all time was the USS Indianapolis sinking in 1945, which led to 12-150 deaths. The 1974 book Jaws by Peter Benchley, which was the entire basis of the movie, was inspired by One Fucking Dude who started shark hunting tours and overall seemed to have a really immaculate vibe. The interstate highways that finished in the 1950’s increased beach tourism in the 60’s and onwards, inspiring the American surf culture, further increasing the cultural desire to purge sharks for the new swath of beachgoers and their fondness for using surfboards which make them look like seals to sharks. Additionally, 1975’s Jaws inspired a huge desire for education about sharks, and the relationship between problematic media and education will be the core of this yapperoni pizza.

“The Slendermen Killings/Other Fiction Inspired Crimes” - The ACLU states that “There is no evidence that fiction has ever driven a sane person to violence.” Inspired crimes are indeed no less tragic, and thankfully rare, but people who suffer from inability to discern reality and fiction do not necessarily need fiction to commit violence. The “Son of Sam” murder spree was not inspired by a book or movie, but instead Berkowitz’ auditory hallucinations.

“Violent videogames DO cause violence” - After a great deal of funding and study, the American Psychological Association has concluded that teens and younger may have increased feelings of aggression and not necessarily physically violent outbursts as a direct effect, but older teens and young adults do not encounter statistically meaningful rates of aggression.

“Your brain can’t tell the difference between fiction and reality” - Factually incorrect. Children as young as 5 years old can tell the difference, and they can even be more suspicious about “facts” that come from sources they know also host fiction, such as TV shows.

“This stuff shouldn’t be online because it can be used to groom a child” - While I could not find specific statistics on how often pornography is used to desensitize child victims, nor how often that is specifically used in online grooming, and especially not how much of that pornography is made from fictional characters - out of a mixed group of convicted offenders with adult and child victims, 55% of offenders used pornography to manipulate their victim. I would never refute that explicit fanart or fanfic could be used to desensitize a child, but that is by far not the only tool (asking about sexual experiences/identity, making jokes, etc is extremely common grooming behavior), and there is no evidence to suggest that it is used to a statistically significant degree. In my own anecdotal experience, normal vanilla legal pornography is used with far greater prevalence, and there isn’t a similar movement to shame its production for that possibility. Nor should the creators of any material, pornographic or otherwise, share blame in the actions of a predator.

The Fiction Affects Reality Carrd

(No hate to the person who made it, in fact I give props to them for trying to find unbiased sources, I just want to point out that their interpretations of their articles are kinda flawed and one of their studies is a kind of a perfect example on small and culturally biased samples.)

Reading Fiction Impacts Aggressive Behavior - (I cannot access the full study but this article is the primary source used in the Carrd and it goes into detail) - A study showed that 67 university students were more annoyed with a loud buzzer after reading a short story about a physical fight between roommates compared to a story with nonviolent revenge. However, this study was conducted at Brigham Young University, the same campus where we got a whole video series of hot ethical takes like “I’d rather shoot a kitten than drink coffee,” so uh. Yeah. Kind of a prime example on why it’s important to have large and culturally varied sampling. (Another BYU study with 137 BYU students being odd about moral ambiguity in fiction, just because I’m starting to add Dr. Sarah M. Coyne to my list of “Sarah’s That I Dislike.”)

Your Brain on Fiction - a NYT article that describes Theory of the Mind and how fMRIs captured how readers’ minds would light up centers of muscle control when reading sentences like “Peter kicked.” The quote “The brain, it seems, does not make much of a distinction between reading about an experience and encountering it in real life; in each case, the same neurological regions are stimulated” is speaking of motor functions. Emotional centers of the brain were not included in the study.

How Fiction Changes Your World - a Boston Globe article that actually describes how people who read more fiction are more empathetic and tend to believe in a just world. It does not state that the empathy a reader feels for fictional characters extends to corrupting their moral compass. In fact, there’s such a thing as a “fictive license” to explore taboo themes more thoroughly because it is not real - 123 participants were interviewed after watching two actors play the part of detective and murderer being interviewed, and participants who were told it was fake had more varied and inquisitive responses.

The Social Impact of Books - Actually reuses the previous study about the just world, so point remains. Empathy is understanding, not mirroring.

Is Problematic Fiction Good for Survivors of Trauma?

It absolutely depends on the individual.

Writing expressively about traumatic experiences has been shown to be effective to reduce depression, or more effective in reducing dysphoria and anxiety than talking to fellow survivors, and Written Exposure Therapy is broadly prescribed to survivors of trauma, with one study centering on car crash survivors finding that WET resolved their PTSD symptoms and continued to be effective after a year.

In this study, which sadly is not available online but it is too important to leave out completely, survivors of CSA were given fictional novels about CSA and in closely reading and analyzing those stories, were able to understand their own experiences and were indeed drawn to write about their own experiences as well.

Engaging in problematic fiction, like all fiction, allows for consent as well as control. If at any point a survivor does not feel in control or wishes to stop, they can at that instant. They can even rewrite their narratives and take control of their story in fictionalizing and changing the account. They can even try to understand what their abuser felt through fiction, which is helpful considering that the vast majority of survivors had a relationship that had been positive and even loving with their abusers at times.

Is Problematic Fiction Good for Everyone Else?

It again depends on the individual.

Antis might be a little right that most people don't want to read problematic stories. In a study exploring whether fiction can corrode morals, 83% of study participants stated that they would prefer not to read a short story justifying baby murder if they had the choice, even if that exploration isn’t inherently harmful.

This very small sample study of 13 participants discussed how young women interpreted sexual themes in writing, including explicit fanfiction, and how that was beneficial and informative to explore sexual desire and examine healthy and unhealthy relationships in a safe and controlled environment.

This meta-analysis further discusses how problematic and sexual themes in YA literature are useful to illustrate what sexual violence looks like, and begin educational conversations through those depictions to break down harmful myths such as “if she didn’t scream, she wanted it.”

Empowered by the “Fictive License” previously cited, problematic fiction can be beneficial for anyone who desires and is capable of consuming and analyzing it.

This study analyzing abusive aspects of three films - Beauty and the Beast, Twilight, and 50 Shades of Gray - concluded that these abusive themes should be discussed to increase recognition and awareness, not censored based on those problematic themes.

This study of 53 women were asked to read different versions of fictional intimate partner violence flags, or “toxic behavior” like surveillance, control, etc. In every version of the story, whether the female or male had those behaviors either courting or committed, the women recognized the behavior as wrong.

Another study that reading allows for the moral laboratory to explore morality in fiction without decisive impact to corroding moral permissibility.

Is There Ever Any Point Where Fictional Interests Definitively Speak On Someone’s Morality?

In short - not really. Loving Jason Vorhees does not put you at risk of murdering campers as long as you know he’s not real. Writing Wincest does not mean you look forward to family reunions, as long as you know incest isn’t okay in the real world. The real world, where real people are harmed, is where you find the measure of someone’s character.

This Psychology Today article is the best source I could find for quotes from a fantastic book ‘Who's Been Sleeping in Your Head? The Secret World of Sexual Fantasies’ by Brett Kahr regarding taboo sexual fantasies and how they are not only common, but not inherently harmful.

There are people who enjoy problematic media in an entirely nonsexual sense, of course. I myself don’t get off on problematic media - I think it’s just interesting to explore different experiences, and I think that can be revolutionary.

Additionally, fantasies in general have almost always been in the vein of “things you don’t want to really happen in reality.” In a study of 351 asexuals, more than half reported that they fantasize about having sex, but that doesn’t mean that they actually want to. You can fantasize about dating Billie Eilish - it doesn’t mean that you’d be happy dealing with celebrity culture.

(I personally fantasize about the internet being just for adults, but in practice I think that would be incredibly harmful and isolating for at-risk youth and LGBTQ teens) Fantasies always pluck out only the bits of reality that you want to engage with.

If You Get Off On Fictional Kids, You’re Attracted to Something About Them Being Kids

Not inherently, surprisingly. Wearing a schoolgirl uniform is a pretty common roleplay, and it’s not meant to “fool” the participants into thinking they’re indulging in pedophilia. There’s a wealth of emotional and sexual nuance in that specific kink - innocence and virginity play, tilted power dynamics in ‘scolding’ the uniform wearer for dress code violations, even the concept of a sexually provocative “teenager” can be played with without shame, because the world of fetish and fantasy is separated from condonable actions for the vast, vast majority of adults. (The only study I could find on this is this small study of 100 white guys found on Facebook, which itself states it is not definitive, found that while there might be correlation between attraction to children and interest in schoolgirl uniforms, there is no proof of causation. AKA, the rectangular pedophile might indeed like square schoolgirl uniforms, but not everyone - in fact, the majority at nearly 60% in this very survey - that likes square schoolgirl uniforms is a rectangular pedophile.)

Even sexual age play between adults is not indicative of pedophilia because it exists in a setting between two adults who fully understand that the mechanics are completely fake, allowing the power dynamics that would be abusive between an adult and child to be ethically explored.

I don’t have an official-looking study to cite, but I have asked people who like content about underage fictional characters why they do so. Overwhelmingly, a lot of the ones who like underage age gaps like the fantasy of an older and more experienced character taking a younger one under their wing, to have the opportunity to commit violent and blatantly objectifying harm and yet try to create what inevitably does not truly pass as consent, but seems near enough to the characters. Some think that the characters themselves have an interesting chemistry. Some read underage fic and still imagine the characters as adults. Some like to explore the feelings of shame that the older character must feel and how they mentally compartmentalize to go forward with the relationship, and how the younger character found themself in that vulnerable position - which is exploring a harmful situation through fiction to understand how it could play out in real life.

People who like fictional incest like exploring the shameful components of that taboo relationship - and I have seen a lot of works that compare how bad incest could be to other harms, like the Gravecest route in a game with parental cannibalism. And then there are folks who like analyzing the codependency of having one person fulfill every social need - family, friend, lover, AKA Wincest.

What makes a predator if it’s not just sexual attraction?

90% of CSA survivors know their abuser, discrediting the still-entirely-too-popular Stranger Danger myth. And shockingly, only 50% of abusers are pedophiles.

That means 50% of child molesters do not have sexual interest in children because they are children, but they victimized children because they are more accessible in lieu of adult partners, with increased rates of incest.

While I could not find a specific study on the relation between dehumanization/objectification of child victims and child molesters (and if you find one, please send it to me!), this study speaks on dehumanization as a precursor to adult sexual violence.

This study, conducted on convicted child molesters in prison, showed that child molesters tend to fantasize about children while in a negative mood, further contributing to the theory that child victims are dehumanized prior to abuse.

This very small sample study found that in a mixed sample of internet only/contact crime/mixed offenders, offenders who had contact with children had lower rates of fantasizing about children.

In short, half the time a child predator is someone who wants to offend against a child regardless of attraction to the fact they are a child.

Resources To Recognize Grooming/Abuse Victims/Predators

I would absolutely be remiss to not share my collection of resources to help detect signs of abuse/grooming as well as warning signs of a predator who may be targeting elders/women/teens/children:

Darkness 2 Light is a fantastic resource overall, this page details stages and signs of grooming.

RAINN personally helped me through my PTSD journey, and this article detailing the signs of sexual trauma in teenagers is thorough and non-judgemental

Signs of abuse as well as warning signs of predation that does not use gendered language nor play into the Stranger Danger myth.

Education, not Censorship

I think a lot of the energy against taboo content among young people still has a lot to do with the desire to end rape culture. The tools that we Millennial Tumblrinas gave you Gen Z kids were snatches of leftist theory, deplatforming, and voting with your dollar, so it’s reasonable to think that removing taboo content like pedophilia, incest, rape fights rape culture.

It doesn’t.

Rape culture is fought by education. Comprehensive sex education, education about consent. Talking about what consent looks like, what sex can look like, what rape can look like.

There should be more taboo content to talk about these things, to show all the shades it can look like. From a violent noncon to fics that aren’t even tagged as dubcon yet still are in shades that are hard to suss out, we should talk about it.

A Non-Empirical Example Of Good Media Analysis and Education to Combat Rape Culture

Let’s use the example of Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen’s relationship in House of the Dragon. Canonically, in both the book and the show, they have a romantic relationship that appears for the most part to be positive (the show being more contentious but I dedicated an aside to Sarah Hess and our beef at the bottom of my Carrd, but feel free to ask how I feel about writing producers with any variation of the name ‘Sarah’) despite an age gap, a sexual relationship that began while Rhaenyra was a minor, and incest - the problematic hat trick if you will.

I have seen anti-Daemyra shippers condemn Daemyra shippers for “Condoning grooming, age gaps, pedophilia, and incest.” Which is not just a broad, inaccurate, and harmful statement, it’s not at all constructive or educational analysis.

It would actually be beneficial to say “Daemon is grooming Rhaenyra as a teenager with gifts, devoted attention that takes advantage of her isolation and vulnerability, frequent nonsexual touches, the extreme desensitization to sexuality in the brothel visit,” etc etc. And even so, it is not useful to say that people cannot still ship the relationship and acknowledge those aspects. They might want to further explore the issues of consent in their dynamic in fiction, they may want to strip away some of them with narrative reimagining. Some might want to ignore the taboos completely and indulge in the fantasy entirely, and some might find the actors hot as hell - AKA, anyone who watches the show.

It’s honestly a little similar to me in how Jerry Falwell would tell his followers not to watch or read or take in any media that dealt with homosexuality unless it was condemning it - even Will & Grace was on Jerry’s shitlist. And so, Jerry’s followers missed out on a lot of media that could have educated them about queerness, could have humanized queer people for them - and that did not make queers go away. Just like ignoring or shutting out media about incest, rape, and other forms of sexual violence doesn’t make those things go away - it just tends to make you less informed, and little less capable of empathy towards people affected by those subjects.

So let’s stop shaming those that ship a complicated dynamic - you get less fanworks exploring those taboos, and less of a discussion overall. You shut down the morality lab of fiction, and to be honest, it’s wet sock behavior.

Some FanFiction Specific Studies

How dubcon fanfiction can flesh out the intricacies and messiness of realistic consent

A review of darkfic written about Harry Potter in 2005 (which, I will personally attest has never been outdone in how profoundly taboo those works were)

Interviews with 11 Self Insert writers who wrote on themes of rape, abuse, control, yandere, etc, and how that was beneficial to some who had experienced sexual violence themselves

Conclusion:

H…holy shit, you actually read all of that?? Congrats dude! That is a lot of time and brain power to dedicate to any one thing!

By the way, I am not really gifted at writing articles or any of that junk, and I tried to make my hyperlexic ass a little more accessible instead of bringing out all the $5 words. I am literally just an autistic who took a couple technical writing classes over a decade ago and really wanted to sort out my thoughts and try to have a platform for discussion. Also, I am really fucking bad at math. I failed two different college level statistics classes twice each. Gun to my head, I could not tell you what a standard deviation is, which is why I worked entirely with the percentages.

And I do want to have a discussion! I would in fact like to not report anyone for sending me gore or death threats or any of that stuff! I don’t think everyone will agree with me, in fact I’m certain that you could find studies that contradict some of mine, and I’d love to discuss them!

I’m sure it will still be tempting to throw around accusations of pedophilia because sometimes, confronting your previously held beliefs is incredibly uncomfortable. If you could not do that, that would be great? I don’t like being compared to someone who profoundly abused me just because I have a different opinion on how to combat rape culture and empower survivors. If you can do that, I’ll do my absolute best to be cheerful and welcoming and respectful as well. 😁

PS - I’m also not really going to be phased if you call me weird or cringe - I am. Always have been. Cringe, weirdness, and autism have made me do and capable of doing some fantastically neat and impressive stuff. But if you try to say something like “proshippers are too yucky and weird to be in fandom” - I’m going to have to refer you to your similarity to Kate Sanders of Lizzy McGuire fame, you “prEpz >:(“ - [My Immortal, legendary author unknown]

[4dbarbie-archive]

4dbarbie remix: How to realise Self?

Disclaimer: This remix/mashup post was compiled by me, a student of 4dbarbie as a way to make sense of everything and to understand how to apply the knowledge practically. I went through all her posts and answered asks to make this which is made up of various parts of 25 49 (omg lol there was a lot of good stuff) different posts and answered asks. It is not an original post by 4dbarbie herself but all words are directly from her various posts and answered asks (except for my clarification notes which are in purple text in brackets & the last section after the last divider where I make some closing comments). Hopefully the way I've organised the information in this post makes sense and helps some Vanessas out there. ♡

Fair warning as this is a pretty long post essay (!) so maybe grab a cup of tea or something :) If you are really new to all this then take some time to really process it, there is no rush. My personal notes and highlights are in pink for main points and purple for 'action' points.

May we all realize our Self ♡

There would be no steps necessary, no process to undertake if you would just establish yourself in the I AM alone. You are so lost in your play you forget reality. 1 If you are "I AM", it means you are not the person experiencing the world/thoughts/circumstances, you never were. 2

The external world, you control it (because it is you!, in you), you make it, fully, even when you tell yourself you don't. 3 To know yourself as the source of all that is, you have to first remove the veil of what's stopping you from seeing it in the first place. To know your real being, you have to first abandon what you thought yourself to be. 4 There is no external life, there is no need to use any methods to recondition or train your mind. It is much faster, much easier and you are hundreds times happier just letting go of the mind. 5 The process is one of letting go more and more until you find yourself having nothing, being nothing. The thing about nothing though is that it's the only thing that can take the shape of everything. 6

A jeweler who wants to refashion an ornament, first melts it down to shapeless gold. Similarly, one must return to one's original state before a new name and form can emerge. The only way to renewal lies through destruction. You must melt down the old jewellery into formless gold before you can mold a new one. What refuses to die cannot be reborn. - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj 7

Stop thinking you are Vanessa, the thoughts of needing this or that drop away. By thinking you are it, you create a character who desires and then identify yourself with it. You can only have when you let go of thinking that you don't. To change, you need to give up this conviction of being this person. You need to disbelieve. 9

Most of you can't change because you are so desperate TO change... but there is nothing to want to change. Things just are. Don't work with changing self, just realize who self actually is. 10

You have it, all is well. Just stop believing the illusions born out of thinking you're a person. 11

Unless they understand who they really are, that Vanessa is a habit and nothing more - that nothing has existence outside of awareness, including her, that awareness assigns reality and is the only reality - they're always going to struggle to control something and get frustrated they don't see what they think they're aware of. What you're aware of is what you're being. You can't be aware of being something new while also being Vanessa. 12

Knowing is being. If you really knew, the thing you knew would be materialized. You know you are Vanessa so you're being Vanessa. Would you want Vanessa if you were her? No. You are her so you don't desire her. And you won't be able to be Vanessa 2.0 if you don't shed this Vanessa first. That is, let go of thinking the thoughts are yours. 8

Your memories of the life Vanessa lived are now and not in a past. You are imagining her past being now. Her past exists now because you are aware of it now. If you were Lara you would be aware of a different past, still now. Basically there was no yesterday and you are imagining "a past having been" today. 13

Anon: "Do I have to endure the world while I know my self as awareness and disbelieve that I am Vanessa???" Ada: THE POINT OF KNOWING YOURSELF AS AWARENESS IS TO DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT AT ALL TIMES, FOREVER. It's complete, incomparable freedom and power. It's the only real love. 14

You are either your Self with nothing attached to it or you're an ego. Disbelieve you were ever her. See what happens. 41

A lot of beliefs are subconscious. "I am a body", "I am Vanessa", "There is a world" are all subconscious, automatic beliefs. Upon investigation you can get rid of any belief (by making them conscious and then dropping them). 15 How do you drop a belief? (see part 1 and part 2)

HOW TO STOP?

The body and the mind are only symptoms of ignorance, of misapprehension. Behave as if you were pure awareness, bodiless and mindless, spaceless and timeless, beyond 'where' and 'when' and 'how'. Dwell on it, think of it, learn to accept its reality. Don't oppose it and deny it all the time. Keep an open mind at least. Make your mind and body express the real which is ALL and beyond all. By doing, you succeed. - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj

You need not take time to meditate or put time aside to contemplate and "apply". All you need to do is detach from this form during the day, let life happen as it happens while reminding yourself it's a dream, a dream that doesn't have to be yours. 16 It is your own desire to hold on to it that creates the problem. Let go. Stop imagining that the dream is yours. As long as you give reality to dreams, you are their slave; see all as a dream and stay out of it. 17

You imagine that there is an external world in which the you that you're identified with lives, but all of that is in your mind. Stop imagining it's true and it dissolves, which can only mean it never was. Which can only mean you assigned reality to it by thinking you're it 18

I've said it before, you don't have to convince Vanessa that she's unreal. Just stop taking the thoughts you don't like for truth or reality. There is no convincing involved, it is all letting go... you're holding so tightly onto your ideas now, that's why you can't see their falsity. 19 You don't have to convince anyone of anything. What I teach here is to leave your mind alone, that is all. Don't go along with it. 2 Thoughts will keep on coming for a while, just now you know they have nothing to do with you. Get into a habit of watching, letting them be but not identifying with them. If you can observe them, it means you are not them. 32 Doesn't matter what the thought is, leave it alone, ignore it BUT not by force of will, just indifference. We've established you aren't the ego, alright? Thoughts, right now, are from the ego. 20

Thoughts of the past life come, remember they no longer have anything to do with you. Literal full delusion (I only call it that because after being identified with a person for so long, it's mind-blowing to grasp you are not that). Thoughts are not yours, complete indifference - no need to fight them. Where they come from, none of your business. Only know they are not yours. YOU not being in your desired reality is a thought, got it? This body and this world are not forced onto you, they exist through your identification with them. Not yours, remember? Repeat. Not yours. You won't lose your mind, you'll only lose your misery. After you've detached, you'll easily shift to as many realities as you want - don't put any on a pedestal of desire, they are equal. See this world and the body as not real first. What is true is only what I AM is identified with, right now this body which is not in that TV show (referring to anon's desire). Correct this first by letting go of thinking it's you. 21

You don't need to convince yourself they're unreal, just dismiss them as not yours. They will disappear more and more through your newfound indifference, then their physical counterparts will, too. Detachment is by doubt and indifference. First you start doubting "the facts", then you become indifferent to the facts, lastly there are no facts anymore and you can establish your own. 20

Start letting go bit by bit, just to see what happens, you won't start "acting crazy" just because you become uninterested in thoughts, I promise 22

What I recommend you to do is bring your self into focus, become aware of your own existence. See how you function, watch the motives and the results of your actions. Study the prison you have built around yourself because of credulity. By knowing what you are not, you come to know your self. The way back to your self is through refusal and rejection. 23

Here's a scale of emotions you go through, from bottom to top: apathy, grief, fear, hostility, anger, indifference, acceptance, freedom finally - and then unlimited, independent joy. You can review this to see where you are on the journey and what should come next. You can't skip them, all of them have to happen for you to have the all. 14

Do not try to understand any more, just be. And let other things be as they are. Even if you're not happy about what you see, there is no way around it besides accepting it. As long as you fight it and try so hard & incessantly to change it, you're only giving it further reality. 14

If you are angry or in pain, separate yourself from anger and pain and watch them. Step away and look. The physical events will go on happening, but by themselves they have no importance. It is your mind alone that matters. When you identify yourself with them, you are their slave, you think you have to act on them. When you stand apart, you are their master. 24

One thing is certain: the real is not imaginary, it is not a product of the mind. 23

You are beyond the mind. Mind and body become your servants once you discover your Self. The present moment is all that is, so yes - become aware of having never been the ego, of your ego being just one of your creations. Ego is the concept of individuality, of separation from the “I", and the All. Therefore ego is a false assumption. We are really the Supreme Reality, we are not separate from It. To "fix" the separation, reject what you are not. Only look at who you are, over and over and over until it becomes the permanent identification and replaces the ego. 25

Once you are convinced that you cannot say truthfully about your self anything except ‘I am’, and that nothing that can be pointed at, can be your self, the need for the ‘I am’ is over — you are no longer intent on verbalising what you are. All you need is to get rid of the tendency to define your self. All definitions apply to your body only and to its expressions. Once this obsession with the body goes, you will revert to your natural state, spontaneously and effortlessly. 23

Drop the false ideas first and watch. After what keeps you stuck goes, you can do whatever you want. You can think the ugliest thoughts and nothing will happen if you know yourself as who you are. It's your identification with the thought that causes the thought to be true. 26

The guilt is because you think you're running out of time and you need to change "your" life now. Be patient with yourself because you don't lose any time, just get to that place I'm telling you about and then you can just go back in time if you so wish. All worry is pointless! And there is nothing to fear, things just happen, do not claim them as yours for a while. Unclutter your mind, it becomes your servant after you've freed it enough. 27

She (Vanessa) will vanish yes, you ask how because you still think waking is more real than a dream. Do your dreams not vanish? Do you wonder how they vanish? They just stop existing all of a sudden when you go into another dream (waking). What if you've lived all your life as Ada and woke up one morning and were suddenly Vanessa with no memory of Ada, would you know anybody vanished? Nope. All you know is who you are right now (because present is all that is), which is Vanessa. 28 Leave poor Vanessa alone, with both her desires and fears, disbelieve you are her until reality becomes self-obvious.

By being your Self you gain the freedom of existing as anything, anytime. You don't lose Vanessa's pretty body if you don't want to stop imagining yourself as being Vanessa with her pretty body. 29

Nothing is lost, awareness just shifts. You can always go back. We're just removing the obstacles that stop you from having this freedom of choice (your identification with this person). You can completely wipe out Vanessa's existence as well. Later if you change your mind, you can make it so that she actually existed again. You are no form, you are formless, the form only is when you imagine there is a form, be your favorite form and dream beautiful dreams :) 30

There is no difference between sleeping and waking, awareness is the background of both. You just think the waking state more real because you've dreamt it over and over and reinforced your belief. They're equally imaginary. Become aware of this and life will forever be a breeze. 31

All depends on you. It is by your consent that the world exists. Withdraw your belief in its reality and it will dissolve like a dream. Cease from looking for happiness and reality in a dream and you will wake up. - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj 17

Your next step will be realizing there is nothing to learn in a dream. You'll find yourself having less and less thoughts, then none at all. Then, only if you want, you will be able to reinstall the mind, now of your choice, and change the dream. 16

Past doesn't come up anymore, memories don't come up anymore after you've ignored (thoughts) & detached yourself enough. They just don't. You can think freely now about being something different. If you can't, don't get mad, don't blame, only know that the one that's doubting isn't you, so the doubts are totally fine to be. They'll be for a while and then they dissolve too, because by ignoring, not getting involved - you forget. And by forgetting not only do you free up so much mental space, but possibilities of what can be, become unnumbered. 36 Anon: Is it okay to feel completely indifferent after learning about this stuff? Like, not feeling as worried about what is playing in front of me since I know its not me Ada: That's the goal. Then become indifferent to the thoughts you get as well. Those aren't yours either. You'll become aware they've dissolved & you can reconstruct the mind however you want because you have no attachment to past beliefs anymore. 33

Even the process is very beautiful... but the very best is when your Self becomes the permanent background instead of Vanessa. Now you always return to Vanessa, later you'll forget to consider her ♡ Dream not of a character who wants and desires, there is nothing to long for — only things to be. 16

To not depend on anything but everything to depend on you is a top state you can grasp with no method. 5 The experience is of being empty, uncluttered by memories and expectations; it is like the happiness of open spaces, of being young, of having all the time and energy for doing things, for discovery, for adventure. A sense of 'there is nothing wrong with me. I have nothing to worry about'. But not one you condition yourself into like you conditioned yourself into a body, it is one that naturally and effortlessly dawns on you by itself when you reject all else, because it is your natural state. 34 Real freedom and real love only emerge when you're not identified with a transient ego. 35

All you are doing is becoming lucid. Becoming able to control the dream. You won't be able to, unless you step out of it. That is, stop thinking this story you tell yourself is true. When Vanessa is no longer all you are, you'll be able to 'change reality' the way you change the film in a video projector. You'll be able to have as much fun in the play as you want to, change it when you no longer want this one specifically. The emotions of the character are fun and welcomed, because they no longer imprison you, there's the background of love to it all - that once you gain, it can't be lost, it's ever present. 36

What you are identified with materializes. If you are not, it disappears. 37

Just let go of the ego, that’s how simple it is. All you need to fix is your wrong identification. There isn't anyone who couldn’t materialize anything right now if he or she would just let go of identifying as the limited body. 38

Only by letting go of all do you gain everything. But once it's done, it's done irreversibly. Fear is no more, control is fully yours. You are free, completely. And with the bliss of freedom no human pleasure compares. You become full love, full power. The absolute and only power. Sooner or later, you will arrive at the same conclusion. You can't stop being what you are, all else can stop existing, but you can't. The only thing you have a choice in is delaying seeing it by thinking you are this or that. Only see it (I Am), then you can imagine whatever you want and it will be. 39

If you project the world, it is within your power to change it. But you must stop identifying yourself with it first. Go beyond, then you have all the power to destroy and recreate. All everybody wants is to be free, but to do that you must know two things: what you are to be free from and what keeps you bound. 2

Your own self is your ultimate teacher, the outer teacher is merely a milestone. It is only your inner teacher that will walk with you to the goal, because he is the goal. - Nisargadatta Maharaj 40

Got more questions? Recommended reading:

Ada's recommended guides on realizing Self: 1, 2, 3

My recommended posts from Ada*: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

All references from the remix post

Books: I Am That by Nisargadatta Maharaj** and Keys to The Ultimate Freedom by Lester Levenson

*in addition to the sources linked in the post **a lot of her posts incorporate quotes and excerpts from this book, moreso than Lester Levenson's Keys to The Ultimate Freedom and she also shared a lot of excerpts from the book

What does this look like when applied?

Experience is the best teacher and learning from other's experiences and how they applied this knowledge can be really valuable and insightful. I don't define success based on materialising things necessarily although that is one result of realizing Self.

From 4dbarbie students: see the tag

Other: 1, 2

Okay, what to do after reading all this?

Apply apply apply. Don't wait, nothing will happen by waiting. There is only now. Inquire who is causing trouble and to whom. You can't think yourself into realization. 'You' are beyond the mind. You are the creator of the mind. It must be experienced.

[evertomorrowart]

Best of YouTube 2023

Yes, I did spend the first week and change of January on this. I wish I could have had it done for New Years, but too many people came out with incredible work in December, so waiting turned out for the best.

What these creators do are a huge influence on my life, I would honestly have difficulty doing what I do without them. That isn't to say that my favorites of the year are *only* on this image--It was almost impossible to narrow down my favorites. Many creators I wanted to include couldn't fit on a single page, and too many of them made more than one video I wished I could draw too!

But, to all of you, thank you for what you do. You're an inspiration.

For those who don't know, further is an explanation.

At the bottom center is an artistic masterpiece by Defunctland: "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History." Over the last several years, Defunctland has risen from delightfully-entertaining commentary on decommissioned theme park attractions to occasionally dropping profound statements on the creation of art itself. "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History" is worth treating like the cinematic experience it is: No second screen, you sit your ass down in front of a TV, set down the phone, and then you *watch it.* Any Disney, theme park, or independent film fan needs to pay attention to this one.

Bottom left is Caelan Conrad with their piece "Drop the T - The Deadly Consequences of Gay Respectability Politics." While I do think they've done more visually or artistically-daring pieces before, "Drop the T" is one of the most important videos released on YouTube in today's current climate of hate. We as queer folk (and our allies) need to understand how integral every identity of the queer experience has been since the start of the Civil Rights movement (and before!). While we are not identical, we *are* inseparable, and we deserve having our real history easily accessible.

TERFs and other conservative mouthpieces need not reply. Your opinions are trash. 😘

I cannot stop watching and rewatching this video by @patricia-taxxon, "On the Ethics of Boinking Animal People." It's not just a defense of furry fandom and its eccentricities, it's a thoughtful and passionate analysis of what the artform achieves that purely human representation can't. Patricia goes outside of her usual essay format to directly speak to the viewer about the elements that define furry media (the most succinct definition I've ever heard) and just how *human* an act loving animal cartoons really is.

As an artist who can draw furry characters, but never really got into erotic furry art, this video is a treasure. Why did I choose to have her drawn as a Ghibli character, hanging out with one of the tanukis from "Pom Poko?" Guess you'll have to watch, bruh.

Philosophy Tube continuously puts out videos that I would put on this list--I'm not even sure that "A Man Plagiarised my Work: Women, Money, and the Nation" is the best work she released in 2023. However, this video got many conversations going between myself and my partner, and the twist on the tail end of the video shocked us both to such a degree that I had no choice.

At the very tail end of the year, Big Joel released "Fear of Death." On his Little Joel channel, he described it as the singularly best video he's ever done, and I'm inclined to agree. However, for this illustration, I ended up repeatedly going back to a mini-series he did earlier in the year: "Three Stories at the End of the World." All three videos are deeply moving and haunting, and I was brought to tears by "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot." While it may be relatively-common knowledge that the original Gojira (Godzilla) film is horror grappling with the devastation America's rush to atomic dominance inflicted on Japan, Big Joel still manages to bring new words to the discussion. Please watch all three of the videos, but if, for some reason, you must have only one, let it be "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot."

Y'all. Let me confess something. I hate football. I hate watching it, I associate seeing it from the stadiums with some of my worst childhood experiences, I despise collegiate and professional football (as institutions that destroy bodies and offer up children at the feet of its alter as a pillar of American culture)--

I. L o a t h e. Football.

But.

F.D. Signifier could get me to watch an entire hour-plus essay on why I should at least give a passing care. AND HE DID IT. I might think "F*ck the Police," the two-parter on Black conservatism, or his essay on Black men's connection to anime might be "better" videos, but this writer did the impossible and held my limited attention span towards football long enough to make a sincere case for NFL players--and reminds us that millionaires can *in fact* be workers. That alone is testament to his skill.

Sit down and watch "The REAL Reason NFL Running Backs Aren't Getting Paid." Any good anti-capitalist owes it to themselves.

CJ the X continuously puts out stunning, emotional videos, and can do it with the most seemingly-inconsequential starting points. A 30 second song? An incestuous commercial? Five minutes of Tangled? Sure, why not. Go destroy yourself emotionally by watching them. I'm serious. Do it.

Their video Stranger Things and the Meaning of Life manages to to remind us all why the way we react to media does, in fact, matter. Yes, even nostalgia-driven, mass-media schlock. Yes, how we interact with media matters, what it says about us matters, and we all deserve to seek out the whys.

Folding Ideas has spent the last few years articulating exactly why so much of our modern world feels broken, and because of that his voice continuously lives rent-free in my brain. While the tricks that scam artists and grifters use to try to swindle us are never new, the advancement of technology changes the aesthetics of their performances. Portions of Folding Ideas' explanations might seem dry when going into detail of how stocks work in This is Financial Advice, but every bit of it is necessary to peel back the layers of techno-babble and jargon and make sense of the results of "Meme Stocks."

Jessie Gender puts out nothing but bangers, her absolute unit of a video about Star Wars might be my new favorite thing ever, but none of her work hit so profoundly in 2023 than the two-parter "The Myth of 'Male Socialization'" and "The Trauma of Masculinity." There's so much about modern life that isolates and traumatizes us, and so much of it is just shrugged off as "normal." We owe it to ourselves to see the world in more vivid a color palette than we're initially given.

Panels drawn after Kate Beaton and "Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands."

"This is Not a Video Essay" is one of the most intense and beautiful pieces of art I've ever put into my eyeballs. Why do we create? What drives us to connect?

I don't even know what else to say about the Leftist Cooks' work, it repeatedly transcends the medium and platform. Watch every single one of their videos, but especially this one.

The likelihood you are terminally online and yet haven't heard of Hbomberguy's yearly forrays into destroying the careers of awful people is pretty slim. Just because it has millions of views doesn't mean that Hbomberguy's "Plagiarism and You(Tube)" isn't worth the hype. Too long? Shut up, it has chapters and YouTube holds your place, anyway. You think a deep dive into a handful of creators is only meaningless drama? Well, you're wrong, you wrong-opinion-haver. Plagiarism is an *everyone* problem because of the actual harm it creates--the history it erases, the labor it devalues, the art it marginalizes--which you would know if you watched "Plagiarism and You(Tube)".

Watch. The damn. Video.

In fact, watch all of them!

Thanks for reading this if you did.

[zomyoo]

⠀𝗝.𝗪𝗪 ━ the vampire i loved, pt. 2 。

it had been a few days since you were magically teleported into a realm of vampires and witchcraft. you deeply missed the feeling wonwoo brought to you. as you were studying for exams, you saw a familiar face...

𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: smut included! public sex, vaginal, fingering, oral, teasing, masturbation and pet names.

⠀ ⟢ vampire!wonwoo x collegestudent!reader ⠀⠀—⠀⠀𝗪𝗖: 1,834

read part one here.

“you can’t possibly go into the human realm, wonwoo. it’s too dangerous.” the woman spoke, looking into her crystal ball as the tall man hovered over her, a look of desperation in his face as he requested for her assistance. “she came into our realm and nothing happened, why would it suddenly be dangerous for me?” he questioned, taking a seat as he looked into her eyes, hoping to see something that would confirm he was right.

she sighed, staring back into his dark eyes as she prepared herself to list the consequences. “well, your powers could be weakened, or worse, completely gone, you’d also have to protect yourself from the sun since it’s currently summer over there and there’s absolutely no chance that you find her. there’s over seven billion people over there and they are scattered around five continents.”

wonwoo didn’t react to her words, he was fully ready to assume every single one of them. “if you end up far from her, you’d never be able to meet her. you only have 24 hours up there.” the woman added, earning nothing but a sigh from the man.

sat at the library owned by your college, you sighed as you stared at your computer, not able to concentrate on your essay. you had to leave your dorm room as seeing his face plastered everywhere caused your mind to trail off. however, you found yourself in the same situation at the library. you imagined his fingers tracing down your body, his hands cupping and squeezing your breasts whilst he whispered sweet nothings in your ears.

you squeezed your legs together and bit your lip, your cheeks tinting red as your thoughts went wild. you were a complete mess and only one person could get you out of it. remembering you were in a public space, you quickly composed yourself and looked around to make sure nobody saw that embarrassing moment.

as you did so, your gaze stopped at a familiar figure. you could recognize his tall appearance, black locks, chiseled jawline and pale skin from afar. you raised an eyebrow before packing your things, walking towards the man who made his way to the upper level of the library. you found it quite strange that you were following someone you weren’t even sure was the person you hoped it would be, but you felt attracted to them.

as you took a corner, you found yourself in between two bookshelves but the figure had disappeared. were you just imagining things? as you were about to turn around and walk away, convincing yourself that everything was just a dream, you were suddenly pulled back and pinned against a shelf. you looked up at the person and your gaze immediately softened as your eyes fell upon the man you had been waiting for.

“wonwoo...” you whispered, and before you could say anything else, he had already smashed his lips against yours, savoring your strawberry chapstick, and his hands made their way to your waist, pulling you in closer before he placed them inside your jeans, squeezing your butt. that alone was enough to turn you on, you missed his touch and your body showed just that.

as you melted in his grasp and savored the taste of his lips, you reached out for his shirt and unbuttoned it, your fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the abs he had most likely gained from working out. then you wrapped your arms around his neck and he did the same, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he lifted you up, separating his lips from yours and placing soft kisses on your neck.

oh... how he adored that specific area of your body. the way its scent completely took over his senses and drove him crazy. he proceeded to lick it, using the bookshelf to support your weight as he used his right hand to lift your shirt, exposing your bare chest. what a lucky man, you had always hated bras.

“were you waiting for me?” he jokingly questioned but you knew you were. you looked for him everywhere, tried sleeping in every position in hopes to be brought back into his realm and even reread the books to feel closer to him but all came in vain. you bit your lip as you felt your cheeks reddening, refusing to answer his question.

not taking your silence so lightly, he quickly placed your left breast in his mouth, sucking it whilst occasionally curling your nipples with his tongue and softly biting it. meanwhile, he used his right hand to squeeze your right breast, not forgetting to give it attention to. as he did so, you tried to contain your moans, remembering you were both fucking in a library and anyone could walking in on your lewd action.

you lifted your head up, soon burying your mouth in the palm of your hand to muffle the sounds that desperately wanted to come out. you adored his lips on your body and the way it made you feel. you wanted more, but you knew that getting more at this moment wouldn’t make it last longer. you wanted him to stay by your side for as long as you needed, even if it meant getting separated in natural ways.

“wonwoo.... i missed you so much.” you breathed out, his lips suddenly crashing against yours and your exposed chest pressing against his bare one, your nipples hardened at the sudden contact. his fingers trailed down your body, from your breasts to your stomach, all the way down until they stopped at your clothed clit. he then began rubbing the area, causing you to let out a sigh of impatience.

“wonwoo p—”

“answer my question first.” he spoke, suddenly stopping his motions, “were you waiting for me?” you whined, avoiding eye contact with him as you bit your lip once again. you had to answer the question now, there was no escape.

“y..yes. i was...” you whispered, still not looking into his eyes as you knew you would instantly melt underneath his strong gaze. he knew and adored the effect he had on you, which was why he placed his hand on your chin, turning your head over to face him. “i didn’t catch that, say it again?” he teased, a smirk plastered on his lips as he watched your cheeks heat up.

before you could utter a word, he had already unbuttoned your shorts, sliding them down your legs before he placed his fingers on your clit, making sure his hand had enough space to fit in between your thighs before he began rubbing it, soon inserting them inside your clit, a soft moan escaping your lips as he did so.

“did you touch yourself whilst looking at the poster you placed above your bed?” his sudden question causing you to shut your eyes open. it was very specific and you wondered how he knew so much information, how he knew about the poster and its exact position. “how the hell do you know that?!” you blurted out, a bit embarrassed as you recalled doing his exact words.

“i know a lot of things about you, love. just like you know so much about me.” he said, leaving you even more confused than you previously were. thrusting his fingers into you, sliding them in and out at a fastened pace, he crashed his lips against yours to muffle your sweet noises. he was a bit disappointed he couldn’t fully listen to them but he didn’t want anyone else to see the state he put you in.

as you allowed yourself to give in to the taste of his lips, he quickly unbuttoned his pants, tossing it alongside his boxers and revealing his cock. soon, it came in contact with your clit, delicately rubbing against your tissues, the sudden pleasure sending chills down your spine. you pulled away from the kiss and rested your back against the shelf before lifing your head up and biting your lips to contain your moans.

feeling restless and impatient, your hands wandered around his body, not sure where to stay. you began moving your hips alongside his movements, a groan escaping from his lips as you did so. “fuck...y/n.” he breathed, taking both of your hands with his left, pinning them above your head as he buried his face on your neck, placing sloppy kisses on it. he wanted you, but he also wanted to remain by your side for as long as he could. he didn’t want this moment to end, so he made sure to cherish every single moment of it.

“wonwoo... i... please...”

“i know baby, just a give me a moment.” he said, his words vibrating on your skin before he inserted his cock inside you, a loud moan escaping from your lips. he was quick to put his hand over your mouth, “not so loud, we’ll be heard.” he whispered as he thrusted inside you. it was slow, but deep enough to drive you crazy.

as you were both having the best time of your lives reuniting with one another and sharing a moment of intimacy, in the very corner of the aisle you were both in, someone was watching. with his pants down and his right hand around his itching cock, he watched as you melted underneath wonwoo’s merciless thrusts. he enjoyed watching your breasts jiggle every single time his hips hardly hit against your pelvis.

“w-wonwoo...” you breathed out, and though you knew the effect it had on the man that was fucking you with everything he had, you had no idea that the one watching felt the same way. wonwoo turned you around, your chest facing the bookshelf whilst he took your hips in his hands for support, moving faster and harder whilst his groans sent chills down your spine.

“i’m so close...” you added, resting your head on your arms as you held the shelf and your gaze plastered on his pretty face. you still weren’t sure how he was real, afterall, he was still a fictional character you had fallen in love with. “cum for me baby.” he said, turning you around once more before he smashed his lips against yours, his cock still moving deep inside you, causing you to finally let go.

the man kissed your forehead, holding you close as you catch your breath. you looked up to him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips before placing your head on his shoulder. as you did so, you spotted an unfamiliar figure looking towards the both of you. as he got caught, he quickly put on his clothes before running away, which caused you to smile.

“we had an audience. unfortunately they ran away so i’m not sure who it is.” you whispered in wonwoo’s ears, a plastered grin on his face before he looked at you. “oh yeah? maybe we should write a book together. i’m sure it’d be a best seller.”

dividers by @/cafekitsune and @/saradika-graphics the ending was kind of rushed as i’ve been struggling with writers block but i hope you enjoyed! i will not be writing another part of this and if i ever do, it’d not be a smut <3 thank you sm for reading mwa

[rafesapologist]

the boy is mine ─ rafe cameron; chapter one

summary: you were an erudite kook with her life ahead of her, very highly sought after by almost every man from figure 8 all the way to the cut. but you only wanted rafe cameron, and just in the typical nature of getting everything you wanted, you were going to have him.

warnings: none in this chapter

author's note: as always if you'd like to be on the taglist for this series at anytime, please let me know! also, there will be some made up characters in this story for plot purposes.

"There's no way I would go to Midsummers with that freak," your derisive laughter erupted through the library before you halted to take a sip of your tepid iced coffee as its coldness faded, "I'd show up alone before I embarrassed myself like that."

"C'mon, he isn't that bad, y/n. I think he's actually pretty cute if you ask me," your friend, Sadie, nudged you teasingly, wiggling her eyebrows comically.

"You're forgetting the part where he's a Pogue, Sadie. I do have some self respect, you know."

Sadie rolled her eyes, her smile still teasing but with a hint of exasperation. "Sometimes you care too much about what other people think, you know that?"

You sighed, swirling the last bits of melted ice in your cup. "It's not just about what people think. It's about standards, Sadie. I've worked too hard to get where I am to throw it all away over some fling with a guy from the Cut."

Sadie leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "Maybe it's not about throwing anything away. Maybe it's about seeing people for who they are, not where they come from."

You opened your mouth to retort, but the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch period. The library's chatter died down as students gathered their things, heading off to their next classes. You and Sadie stood up, collecting your bags and discarded coffee cups. As you walked out into the bustling hallway, you couldn't shake the thought of him—the Pogue in question. John B Routledge. There was something about him that got under your skin, and not just in an annoying way. He was different, and that intrigued you, even if you'd never admit it out loud.

"Are you going to the bonfire tonight?" Sadie asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You shrugged. "Maybe. Depends if I finish my essay for English. You?"

"Of course I am, you should come! Live a little, y/n," Sadie insisted, her enthusiasm infectious.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. "We'll see," you said noncommittally, but you both knew that Sadie had a way of persuading you into things you normally wouldn't consider.

As you parted ways, heading to your respective classes, you couldn't help but glance over your shoulder, half-expecting to see him there, with that easy grin and messy hair. You shook your head, pushing the thought away.

After school, you found yourself back in the quiet sanctuary of your room, trying to focus on your English essay. The sun was setting outside, casting a warm golden glow through your window. You sighed, tapping your pen against your notebook. The words on the page blurred as your mind wandered back to the day's conversation.

"Live a little."

Sadie's words echoed in your mind, but you couldn't shake the nagging doubt. You had always prided yourself on maintaining high standards—standards that didn't include dating someone like John B. He was charming, sure, but he was also a Pogue, and the class divide in your town wasn't something you took lightly. It wasn't just about status; it was about everything you had worked for, everything you stood for.

You leaned back in your chair, staring at the ceiling. Your parents had always taught you the importance of striving for more, of associating with people who could elevate your standing. Dating a Pogue, especially one as infamous as John B, seemed like a step backward.

But then there was the memory of his smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, and the infectious laughter that seemed to make the world a little brighter. There was an undeniable attraction, a pull that you couldn't quite explain. You shook your head, reminding yourself why it was important to stick to your standards.

"I do have some self-respect, you know."

You muttered the words to yourself, trying to reaffirm your decision. But as the evening wore on, you couldn't help but feel a little trapped by your own expectations.

Just as you were about to dive back into your essay, your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your thoughts. It was a message from Sadie: "Bonfire starts at 8! You better be there!"

You stared at the text for a moment, biting your lip. Maybe, just maybe, Sadie was right. Maybe it was time to let go of some of those rigid standards and see where the night took you. You asked yourself, what was the harm in one night of fun?

With a sigh, you closed your laptop and headed to your closet, rifling through your clothes for something suitable to wear. As you pulled out a casual baby blue sundress, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. "Live a little," you muttered to your reflection, echoing Sadie's words.

By the time you arrived at the bonfire, the beach was already alive with music, laughter, and the warm glow of the flames. The salty breeze played with your hair as you made your way across the sand, the sounds of waves crashing mingling with the chatter of your peers. You spotted Sadie almost immediately, her bright smile and waving hand a beacon in the crowd.

"Y/n! You made it!" she cheered, pulling you into a hug that smelled of sunscreen and coconut.

"Yeah, yeah," you laughed. "I'm here. Now what?"

"Now we have fun," Sadie declared, handing you a drink that sparkled under the string lights hung haphazardly between the palm trees. She led you toward the fire where the heat radiated warmly against the cool night air.

You found yourself standing at the fire, gazing at its burning flames as you felt the stares of everyone around you, right on you. The heat from the fire radiated against your skin, a stark contrast to the cool night air. You took sips of your drink hazardously, knowing that at the end of the day, you still had to keep yourself composed in front of everyone.

The laughter and chatter around you seemed distant, almost like a background hum to your own thoughts. You could feel the weight of expectations pressing down on you, a constant reminder of the standards you had set for yourself. You had always been the one who held it all together, the one who never faltered.

As you took another sip, the drink's coldness a fleeting relief, you glanced around the bonfire. Your peers were engrossed in their conversations, but every so often, you caught a pair of eyes flicking in your direction, a whisper exchanged. It was as if they were all waiting to see what you would do next, how you would handle stepping out of your carefully curated box.

Suddenly, snapping you out of your gaze was the sound of a familiar voice approaching with a kind "hello." You snapped your head in the direction of the voice, before realizing it was none other than Sarah Cameron. You met her early in the school year when she joined Honors Society with you and Sadie. The three of you clicked pretty quickly, but you never saw her much outside of school.

Sarah grinned, her eyes sparkling in the firelight. "I could say the same about you. I didn't think I'd ever see the y/n at a party like this."

You laughed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. "Yeah, it's not exactly my usual scene."

Sarah's smile widened. "Well, I think it's great. Sometimes it's good to shake things up a bit. How are you liking it so far?"

You glanced around, feeling the cool breeze and the warm sand under your feet. The sound of distant laughter and music playing flooded your ears, giving you a rush of adrenaline as the alcohol you had been drinking took its effect. "It's surprisingly kind of fun," you admitted, "I don't mind it so far."

As Sarah began to respond to you, she was suddenly cut off as she was spun into the air by a figure behind her. Your eyes widened as you watched the boy kiss her before gently setting her back down onto the sand.

A look of amusement draped across your face as you smirked at her, your eyes flickering between the two of them. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend, Sarah!" Sadie joked, teasing her lightheartedly. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Sadie."

Topper grinned, extending a hand to Sadie. "Nice to meet you too, Sadie."

"I'm y/n," you spoke up after Sadie finished. Topper's eyes snapped over to you as he greeted you back with a genuine smile.

"It's nice to meet you guys. I never get to meet many of Sarah's friends; sometimes I wonder if they think I'm not real or something." He chuckled, taking a swig of his Michelob Ultra.

"Well, now we know you're not just a myth," you said with a grin. "It's nice to finally meet you, Topper."

Sarah giggled in response to your joke, which also earned a head shake from Topper. "I like to leave people guessing," Sarah shrugged, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

Topper laughed, wrapping an arm around Sarah's shoulders and pulling her close. "Keeps things interesting, right?"

You smiled at their playful banter, feeling the warmth of their affection for each other. "Definitely keeps things interesting."

Sadie leaned in, her curiosity piqued. "So, how did you two meet?"

"She's actually my best friend's sister, so we sort of just met because of him," Topper admitted with a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I didn't know you had a brother, Sarah?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued as you took another sip of your drink, the cold liquid sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Sarah sighed, her gaze flickering over to Topper with a mixture of annoyance and affection. "Unfortunately, I do. He's my older brother, Rafe."

You tilted your head, observing Sarah's words carefully. There was a hint of something in her tone—disdain, maybe even a touch of resentment—but you didn't want to probe further. Whatever the dynamic between Sarah and Rafe, it seemed like a topic best left untouched for now. You nodded in response, deciding to steer the conversation in a lighter direction.

"Is he hot?" Sadie spoke up, her curiosity piqued as she glanced between you and Sarah.

Sarah's eyes widened, caught off guard by the sudden question. She shot Sadie a look of mock indignation before bursting into laughter. "Seriously, Sadie? That's your first question?"

Sadie shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Hey, I'm just trying to get the full picture here."

Sarah rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness in her expression that belied her exasperation. "He's very cocky if that answers your question," she said, her tone tinged with amusement.

Sadie grinned, clearly enjoying the playful banter. "Well, I can work with cocky. Confidence is sexy, after all."

You laughed, shaking your head at Sadie's unabashed flirtation. "You're incorrigible, Sadie."

She shrugged, flashing you a playful wink. "Just keeping things interesting."

"Wait," Sadie paused, her hand reaching out to gently halt you and Sarah, her eyes alight with curiosity. You and Sarah turned to face her, the flames of the bonfire casting dancing shadows on the sand around you.

"Does that mean he's here, too? You know, since his best friend is here and all," Sadie asked, her gaze flickering towards Topper, who was lounging nearby, a relaxed grin playing on his lips as he watched the conversation unfold.

"Yeah, he's here, somewhere," Topper replied with a casual shrug, taking another sip of his drink, the condensation leaving tiny droplets on the bottle's surface.

The mention of Rafe's presence sent a ripple of tension through the group, a silent acknowledgment of the complicated dynamics at play. You exchanged a meaningful glance with Sarah, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension flickering in your eyes, the crackling of the fire providing a soothing backdrop to the unfolding drama.

"There's no way you're trying to make a move on my brother right now," Sarah joked, a playful scoff escaping her lips as she glanced at Sadie, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Sadie shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she took a gulp of her drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass. "Well, you've intrigued me, so now I wanna see what he looks like."

"I mean, I can go find him if you want," Topper suggested, joining in on the banter with a playful grin.

"Top, no I—" Sarah began, but Sadie cut her off, her excitement palpable as she interjected, "Please!"

Topper chuckled at Sadie's enthusiasm, pushing himself up from his lounging position with a dramatic sigh. "Alright, alright. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

As Topper wandered off into the crowd in search of Rafe, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building in the air. What would Rafe be like in person, away from how Sarah spoke of him? It was a question that lingered on the edge of your mind, waiting to be answered.

As you waited for Topper to return, the crackling of the bonfire seemed to grow louder, the flames casting flickering shadows on the sand. The night was alive with possibility, and you couldn't help but wonder what other surprises it had in store.

"I can't believe this is happening," Sarah groaned, her voice tinged with resignation as she rubbed her temples, a sense of dread creeping over her at the situation that was waiting to unfold.

"Oh, come on, Sarah, we were gonna meet him sooner or later!" Sadie nudged at her, a playful glint in her eyes as she teased her friend.

"I was hoping to keep him as far away from my friends as possible, actually," Sarah admitted with a rueful smile, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she resigned herself to the inevitable encounter.

Surprisingly, as the anticipation grew, you couldn't help but feel nervous yourself. Excitement fluttered in your stomach like a flurry of butterflies as you waited to see the mystery that was Rafe Cameron, Sarah's brother. You wondered if he was the typical older brother type—overly cocky and thinking he was better than his siblings, maybe even a little overbearing. You weren't entirely sure what to expect or even what he might look like, and all you could do was wait.

The crackling of the bonfire seemed to grow louder, the flames casting dancing shadows on the sand as the night stretched on. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, the anticipation building with every heartbeat.

Finally, you spotted Topper making his way back through the crowd, a familiar figure trailing behind him. Your heart skipped a beat as Rafe came into view, his confident stride and piercing blue eyes immediately capturing your attention. He was taller than you had imagined, his presence commanding and magnetic as he approached.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, Rafe was standing before you, a cocky grin playing on his lips as he looked you over. "I heard there was a party going on over here," he said, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.

You felt a rush of adrenaline as Rafe's gaze locked onto yours, his presence filling the space between you with an undeniable intensity. Despite the nervous flutter in your stomach, you couldn't help but be captivated by his confidence and charm.

"There's definitely a party," Sadie chimed in, a mischievous smirk plastered on her face as she stepped forward, extending her hand towards Rafe. "I'm Sadie, by the way."

Rafe's gaze shifted to Sadie, his cocky grin widening as he took her hand, giving it a firm shake. "Rafe," he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with charm. "Nice to meet you, Sadie."

You could tell Sadie was entirely encapsulated by him as she stared up at Rafe like he was a Renaissance painting of some sort. Her eyes sparkled with admiration, and you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself at her unabashed gawking, which you assumed didn't go unnoticed by Rafe.

As you stood in the circle with the group, quietly observing the interaction, you took a small sip of your drink, trying to mask your amusement. Much to your dismay, Rafe's eyes ventured away from Sadie and landed on you, making you the center of attention in the moment.

"And you are?" Rafe's voice was smooth and confident as he directed his attention towards you, his piercing gaze locking onto yours.

You silently gulped at his question, feeling a rush of nerves coursing through you as you took in a deep breath before responding, "I'm y/n. One of Sarah's friends."

As you spoke, you tried to maintain a calm and composed demeanor, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being under Rafe's intense scrutiny. It was as if he could see right through you, peeling back the layers to uncover the truth beneath. Despite your best efforts to remain unaffected, you couldn't deny the magnetic pull of his presence, drawing you in with every passing moment.

He nodded, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he subtly looked you up and down, a gesture that didn't escape your notice. Heat rushed to your cheeks, leaving you feeling flustered, though you couldn't tell if it was the liquor or the way Rafe was eyeing you that caused it.

"I haven't met any of Sarah's friends, seeing how she's always stuck up Topper's ass," he joked dryly before taking a swig of his beer, his smirk lingering on his lips.

Sarah scoffed and rolled her eyes at him, clearly not amused by his comment. "I don't introduce you to them because you'd probably try to sleep with them," she retorted, her tone laced with sarcasm and exasperation.

You couldn't help but chuckle nervously at the siblings' bickering, feeling a mix of amusement and discomfort as you found yourself caught in the middle of their dynamic. The tension between them was palpable, but the only thing you felt you could do to ease your own nerves was to continue taking sips of your drink and observe the conversation unfolding.

Luckily for you, Sadie spoke up again, her voice breaking through the awkward tension like a ray of sunshine. "How old are you, Rafe?" she asked, her curiosity evident in her tone.

"I'm 19," Rafe replied, turning his attention back to Sadie with a casual shrug.

"So you're in college?" Sadie pressed on, her curiosity piqued.

Rafe shrugged nonchalantly, a hint of indifference in his demeanor. "Eh, not yet. Didn't feel like going from 12 years of school straight to more school," he explained, his tone casual as he took another sip of his beer.

"Yeah, I get it, I wouldn't want to either," Sadie replied, her tone casual as she shrugged, but you couldn't help but give her a puzzled look. Sadie was an honors student, just like you. Her entire life seemed dedicated to keeping good grades and maintaining perfect attendance at school, and all she ever talked about was wanting to get into Yale. You could see right through her act, realizing she was only dumbing herself down to appear more interesting to Rafe, which made you cringe.

"Oh, so you're taking a gap year?" Rafe asked, his tone curious as he looked at Sadie.

You chuckled in response, shaking your head as you looked down at your drink, feeling a mix of amusement and discomfort at the situation. "Yeah, I'm sure Yale will accept that," you mumbled under your breath, unable to hide your skepticism.

Rafe's eyes shot over at you, confusion evident on his face at your remark. "Well… I don't know what I'm doing yet, okay?" Sadie replied defensively, shooting you a glare with wide eyes, silently pleading with you not to embarrass her in front of Rafe.

"I take it that you're one of those honors students," Rafe implied, his gaze shifting between you and Sadie as he sipped his beer, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Sadie laughed nervously, swaying slightly as she tried to keep her composure. "Yeah, but it's not a big deal. It's not like I make it my whole personality," she replied, her words slightly slurred from the alcohol.

"Sadie, all you talk about is wanting to get into Yale," you interjected, unable to hold back your frustration any longer, feeling annoyed at her facade and wanting nothing more than to call her bluff.

Sadie's eyes widened in alarm as she shot you a pleading look, silently urging you to drop the subject. But it was too late—the truth was out in the open, hanging in the air like a heavy cloud.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between you and Sadie with renewed interest. "Yale, huh? That's ambitious," he remarked, his tone neutral as he took another sip of his beer.

Sadie laughed nervously again, her movements slightly jerky as she rubbed her arms uncomfortably, nodding at Rafe. "Yeah, it's just something my parents have always wanted for me, I guess," she admitted, her gaze falling to the floor as she shifted uneasily under Rafe's neutral demeanor.

Rafe's gaze lingered on Sadie for a moment before turning to you, his expression unreadable. "What about you? What do you plan on doing?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes searching. You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden question. Glancing around to make sure he was actually speaking to you, you felt a wave of shock wash over you.

"Uh, well..." you stammered, feeling the weight of Rafe's gaze bearing down on you. "I'm going to Princeton in the fall." As the words left your lips, you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at the realization that you had finally vocalized your plans for the future. It was a decision that had taken months of careful consideration and countless hours of deliberation, but now that it was out in the open, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you.

Rafe's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a flicker of intrigue dancing in his eyes as he regarded you with renewed interest. "Princeton, huh?" he remarked, his tone neutral but his expression curious.

You nodded, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you met Rafe's gaze head-on. "Yeah, it's been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember," you admitted, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of finally pursuing your goals.

Rafe nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to the group. "Well, congratulations," he said, his tone genuine as he raised his beer in a silent toast. "Here's to chasing your dreams."

You watched intently as Rafe raised his beer to toast you, a hint of curiosity flickering in your eyes as you observed his casual demeanor. There was something intriguing about him, a magnetic charm that drew you in despite your reservations. You couldn't help but wonder if he was putting on a show or if he was always like that—confident, carefree, and unapologetically himself.

As Rafe tilted his head back to chug the remnants of his beer, you found yourself studying him intently, trying to decipher the enigma that was Rafe Cameron. His easygoing mannerisms and effortless charm seemed to mask a complexity that you couldn't quite put your finger on, leaving you feeling both intrigued and apprehensive in equal measure.

Once he was done chugging his beer, Rafe nonchalantly tossed the empty bottle across the sand into a nearby trash can before sparking up a conversation with Topper. You couldn't help but admire his ease and confidence, wondering if you would ever be able to exude that same level of self-assurance.

Beside you, you could feel Sadie's embarrassment radiating off her in waves, and you couldn't help but feel partially guilty and at fault for it. But deep down, you knew that you couldn't stand when people dumbed themselves down for attention, even if it meant putting your friendship on the line. Sure, Sadie was your best friend, but that gave you all the more reason to keep her in check and hold her accountable for her actions.

As you stood there with your drink in hand, you found yourself once again trying to figure Rafe out. His presence seemed to fill the space around him, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You couldn't help but admire the way the firelight danced across his tanned skin, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline and the intensity of his sparkling blue eyes. It was as if he had a magnetic pull, leaving you feeling captivated and entranced in his presence.

The sound of his low-pitched voice sent shivers down your spine, each word resonating deep within you as though you could listen to him talk for hours on end. There was an air of mystery surrounding him, a sense of danger that only served to heighten your fascination with him. He was somewhat intimidating, but that only made him all the more attractive to you.

Despite the unease you felt at being drawn to someone like Rafe, you couldn't deny the butterflies that fluttered in the pit of your stomach whenever he was near. There was something about him that ignited a fire within you, a desire to know more, to experience more of him in any way you could.

Just as you began to mull over your thoughts, an idea sparked in your mind like a sudden burst of fireworks, causing you to perk up with newfound enthusiasm. "Hey, Sarah, why don't we make plans soon? We never get to see each other outside of school," you suggested, a glimmer of excitement twinkling in your eyes.

Sarah's face lit up at your proposal, her expression mirroring your own excitement. "Yeah, sure! That sounds like a great idea," she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. "Why don't you come over tomorrow, and we can go swim at my place?"

Your heart raced with anticipation as you considered her offer. It was the perfect opportunity to spend quality time together and perhaps even devise a plan to encounter Rafe again. "That sounds amazing!" you replied eagerly, a devious smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Sarah beamed in response, her excitement palpable as she nodded enthusiastically. "Great! How about around 5? That should give us plenty of time to have some fun," she suggested, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

You nodded eagerly, unable to contain your excitement at the prospect of what tomorrow might bring. "Sounds perfect. I'll be there," you exclaimed, already counting down the minutes until your rendezvous with Sarah.

As the conversation around you continued its lively cadence, you found your gaze drawn back to Rafe like a moth to a flame, his presence casting a magnetic allure that was impossible to ignore. Amidst the laughter and chatter, your mind wandered to the possibilities that lay ahead now that you were growing closer to Sarah. Each glance in Rafe's direction ignited a spark of anticipation within you, like the gentle flutter of a butterfly's wings in the pit of your stomach.

Lost in reverie, you allowed yourself to drift into a realm of daydreams, where the boundaries of reality blurred and the realm of possibility expanded infinitely. In this ethereal landscape, you envisioned a tapestry of adventures unfolding before you, each more enchanting than the last. The mere thought of what could transpire filled you with a sense of exhilaration, like the rush of wind through autumn leaves or the soft whisper of waves lapping against the shore.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

taglist: @yawnzshit

[torasplanet]

❝𝙎𝙏𝙐𝘿𝙔 𝙎𝙀𝙎𝙃.ᐟ❞

A. ARLERT + YEAGER!F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; eren made your grade in history drop 'cause he's a fat jerk! so what better way to get back at your dear brother than to fuck his best friend behind his back?

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; smut, fluff, aftercare, riding, p in v, nerd!armin, kinda slut!reader, eren being eren, like two flashbacks, armin being a sorta good best friend, praise, petnames (baby), kinda switch!armin, childhood crush to lovers, reader having a HUGEE crush on 'minnie >o<, seduction, loverboy! armin, eren being jean's #1 h8r, round two hinted at end, college au, lingere, armin wears glasses cuz i said so >:( !!, kinda sappy, unedited might do it l8r idk, science shit cuz im a nerd, skin color not mentioned

Eren was the worst big brother ever. 

You wouldn’t have chosen to live with him if housing wasn’t so expensive and you two didn’t go to the same college because he’s annoying as shit. He always holds it against you that you’re living with him whenever you tell him to leave you alone. He was probably the worst person ever to be honest and what he had done yesterday was not helping his case one bit.

See, eren was a coffee person and not one of those regular coffee people. The ones that go insane without their dark roast.

Not so surprising when he’s a college student but he’d never been once before being enrolled so you still weren’t used to him drinking it so when he went into your room saying he forgot something in there with a mug in his hand, you didn’t think much of it and stayed in your spot on the couch watching some random Netflix show you liked, you’d watched it a thousand times but it still entertained you but not enough that you didn’t hear eren curse from your room.

When you rushed up to go inside and ask what in the fuck he did, you couldn't even speak when you saw dark brown liquid spilled all over your five-page essay that was on your desk and there was no saving these, they were completely soaked and the words were mixing because of the wetness of the paper. You cursed your professor for making you write it on paper because this could easily happen. And with Eren being as clumsy as he is, of course, he was the one to make it happen.

He didn’t even care that much either! He just said ‘Whoops, sorry.’ and left, he didn’t offer to redo it for you or anything! And because of him, your grade in history has dropped by a lot. Like a B to an F-. You didn’t even know an F- was possible!

Eren was going to pay for this one way or another, but the issue with upsetting him was that Eren didn’t care about most things in the world. You could cut his hair in his sleep and he’d just get a new haircut, you could key his car and he’d be mad but he’d probably do worse to you. You could tell Mikasa about all the embarrassing dreams he’s had about her but he’d just deny it and then punch you later.

But the one thing that would send Eren off the rails was getting with one of his friends. Eren didn’t care if you were friends with his friends but if you even thought about liking one of them, he’d shut that shit down immediately. The idea of you getting with any of his friends disgusted him and he never wanted it to happen which is why you were going to do that; not only were you going to do that but you were going to do it behind his back which would just piss him off more once he eventually found out.

Sure it was extreme but it was the only thing that would actually fuck with him and that wasn’t your fault plus he was friends with a bunch of hot people…including, Armin.

Armin Arlert. Eren’s best friend since they were little kids, you often saw him a lot in your childhood and still saw him a lot in the present and you liked that. Armin was a cutie ever since you guys were young, even with his long hair he was a cutie but now that he cut it short, he was hot. So with your choice of revenge and Armin being hot, you practically had everything laid out.

You didn’t know how Eren would find out or if you would tell him but you got the seduction and the fucking part down! That’s all you needed honestly.

Most of this was so you could get back at Eren but at the same time, some of it was because you had the tiniest crush on Armin ever since you both were little kids. Even though you’ve fucked a bunch of guys, had them sleep over, and dated a lot, your micro feelings for Armin were always resting in the back of your head coming to the surface when you were alone in your room with your hand between your thighs in your panties and a pillow pressed to your face to block your moans.

You’ve been doing that for quite a while as you’ve wanted Armin for years.

Since his junior year and your sophomore when you two landed in the same mixed gym class, he had his blonde bob and wore glasses during that time but you still wanted him. That one class when some loser let his hand slip and hit you in the face with a dodgeball; Armin was helping you to your feet with his hand accidentally cupping your ass which he, of course, apologized for but you didn’t mind. Not at all.

You wanted to tell him that so badly but of course there was Eren ruining everything after he got done yelling at that loser for hitting you. For the first time ever, eren decided to be a good big brother and not let Zeke fill that role instead and take you to the nurse when all you wanted was for Armin to take you there. You thought you’d get him to take you another way if he did but of course, Eren had to be a cock-block even when you both got back to class.

“Ah is she okay!?” Armin asked loudly as he rushed over to you and Eren as you both walked through the gymnasium doors with you holding a paper towel to your nose that was just running with blood in hopes that it wouldn’t continue its rapid flow. Eren took his arm from around your shoulders as he hummed “Yeah, she’s okay. It’s not broken or anything.” Armin let out a relieved sigh at your brother's words as he pushed his rectangle-framed glasses up while you shamelessly stared at him in his gym uniform that seemed a little too tight for him. You could see his scrawny body with little to no muscle (he’s working on it okay!) through his shirt.

Armin made eye contact with you “That’s good, thought we’d have to call Zeke to get you.” He said sweetly which made a smile appear on your face but it quickly fell at the sound of your brother’s voice “Yeah, thought I’d have to get Ymir and beat the hell out of that guy.” Ugh, he was annoying. Eren knew he couldn’t kick anyone's ass even if he had Superman’s powers and yet he was still saying he would.

Of course, Armin looked at him concerningly but said nothing and shook his head before turning to you once more “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He told you comfortingly as he embraced you into a hug with his hands resting on your lower back, you wished that they went even lower like they did before but what he whispered next into your ear really made you want that “Don’t tell Eren about earlier, ‘kay? He’d be so mad.”

He said it like he meant to put his hands on your ass which contradicted his previous apology and it riled you up and made your childhood crush really blossom and now…you had finally gotten your chance to act out all those fantasies and thoughts you had due to his words and piss Eren off at the same time. It’s like a dream come true!

So when you were getting ready to go to Armin's dorm on college campus for your study session that was hopefully going to turn into more, you made sure to put on the cutest black lace thong with a matching bra that was practically see-through, you could see the darkness of your nipples showing through the fabric before you put on your skimpy top and tight-fitting shorts.

Falsies fluttered constantly as you looked through them peering up at Armin’s dorm door waiting for him to come and open the door for you and his study session. You perked up at the sound of the door unlocking before it opened revealing the blonde already staring at you but his gaze turned confused very quickly and you knew why. 

You looked stupid, didn’t you? Here for a study session and yet there was nothing in your hands, no books, no pencil, nothing. Everything you needed was in the pockets of your shorts, your phone, and of course a condom. “Hi Armin, can I come in?” You questioned looking him up and down, he was wearing the white tee and grey sweatpants combo that almost made you drop to your knees while foaming at the mouth clawing at the waistband of his pants in the middle of this hallway.

His blue eyes drifted down to your boobs that were practically out of your shirt but quickly returned to your face that had gained a promiscuous smirk at the drifting of his gaze “Uh y-yeah, sure.” Armin stammered shaking his head seemingly to snap himself out of a trance that your body put him in. He moved out of the way and let you walk inside the dorm room that he shared with Bertholdt but clearly, the male wasn’t here which would make this all the easier for you “So what do you need help with exactly, you didn’t bring anything?” Armin asked his voice less nervous than it was before as he closed the door and leaned against it while his eyes followed your body as you sat on the edge of his neatly-done bed kicking your shoes off.

You blinked your falsies at him as you leaned back on your palms “A lot, I just thought I’d watch you y’know…do some of the work.” You replied making sure to purse your glossy lips out a bit with your words as you gazed at the blonde that was inching closer to you “I think it’s easier if I watch someone like you do it.” It wasn’t a lie, you weren’t very good at science and Armin was but you were playing it up a little bit. Like you needed him…well you did just not in the way you were telling him.

Armin nervously crept over to his desk that had his PC and everything on it which was sometimes used to play video games loudly with Eren, Connie, and Jean but its main use was for school work “What do you mean?” He asked as you stood up grabbed a chair from Bertholdt’s side of the room and sat down right next to Armin who was glancing down at your cleavage and your thighs, and who knows what he was looking at when your back was turned. You never took Armin for a perv but you weren’t hating the idea of that.

“I mean smart people, eren’s useless so he can’t help me and Mikasa never has time. She’s always with Eren in his room.” You blabber watching as Armin’s blue eyes were focused on his computer screen which was now showing the science homework you two had and you saw all his little glimpses toward you and your chest but you didn’t say anything and sat there all pretty like you had no clue what he was doing. When for the first time ever you knew.

Whenever Armin talked about things he liked such as the ocean, ‘nerd stuff’, and whatnot, you were the only one who really listened. Like actually listened to the point when he referenced something from previous conversations, you were the only one who remembered every single thing. It was a miracle that no one knew about your crush, well no one cared to say anything because if pretty much any of the guys knew, they’d definitely say something and laugh at you for doing something so stupid that would make Eren murder someone.

Armin’s cheeks turned pink at the mention of Eren and Mikasa's private relations “What about the times he’s not?” You merely shook your head at his question as you watched him solve the science problems easily “It’s still easier to watch you. You’re smarter than Eren.” You said wrapping your arms around Armin’s and leaning against him snuggling your head into his shoulder and you felt Armin tense up at this action but he didn’t say anything about it.

“Thanks, (n/n),” Armin said with a sheepish smile as he glanced down at you before back at the computer screen. You placed your other hand on his thigh not wanting to waste any time here because Bertholdt could be back any minute, you didn’t even know where he was but you just didn’t want him to come back anytime soon.

A whimper let out from Armin’s lips as you began to rub his thigh gently moving your hand up closer to his crotch but only subtly though he could tell. Armin could tell anytime you touched him compared to someone else's no matter where you put your hands. Your hands were gentle when they touched him almost like you were scared to touch him. You weren’t.

You wanted to be as close to him as possible and savored every touch you got with him, you were definitely going to savor this night even if it was just a one-time thing “You’ve always been smart Armin…I thought it was cute.” You muttered softly as you looked up at the male who was already looking down at you nervously, his expression was so cute! His flushed face, his nervous gaze, and how he was nearly sweating just by your hand on his thigh.

“I still do y’know.” Your hand trailed up to the waistband of his sweatpants but you didn’t do anything but sink your fingertips past them just pulling them away from his skin and letting it slap back against his soft pale flesh. His skinny hand came down and placed itself on top of yours stopping you as you felt warmness overtake your skin “We–...We shouldn’t do this (n/n).” The blonde male said as he looked down at you like he was scared but he was obviously enjoying it with the movement you felt coming from his sweatpants.

The clacking of his keyboard had stopped and it was now silent in the room “Do you not want to?” You asked slowly drawing your hand away but his hand which was just resting on top of yours now had a tight hold on yours and was holding it in place which startled you, it was a drastic change from how gentle he always was with just his hand on yours.

Armin looked away as if he was ashamed of his actions “I just think Eren would be mad.” You knew that was coming soon, Armin was a lot of things, and stupid was definitely not one of them, not even a little bit and you knew he’d catch onto what you were trying to do and tell you something about Eren and blah blah blah but you obviously didn’t care much for that, only what he really wanted to do.

With his hold on your hand, it’s obvious he didn’t want you to go anywhere but you still had to make sure “But do you want to?” You questioned again ignoring his previous statement about your brother and how he might disapprove of it. Eren was a dick and if he wanted to play that card, you could too. You could be a dick by riding his best friend’s.

Armin stared down at you for a while thinking about what he should say and what it would mean if he said something “Yes but–” With that, your fingers went back to his waistband but this time you were gently pulling them down but not completely yet, just teasingly “...what if eren finds out? He’ll be so mad at me.” Armin continued saying those words he said in high school but a bit differently and the context behind it was very different and not just a small accident.

You glanced down at the band of his Nike Pros before looking back up at him through your lashes “I don’t care. Why do you? You want it right?” Armin was quick to nod at your question making a smile stretch across your glossy lips as you ran the tip of your finger over the Nike Logo on his boxers “Yeah…I guess he doesn’t have to find out, right?” Armin said leaning back in his chair his eyes locked on your fingers just wanting them to inch closer to his crotch nearly bitting into the softness of his pink bottom lip that was almost the same color as the apples of his cheeks that showed his enjoyment and flustered feeling.

You shook your head not breaking eye contact with him “I won’t say anything.” You said seductively allowing your hands to slip past the waistband of his boxers and into the small bush of his blonde pubes before lowering it further to his cock.

Armin’s back arched slightly as he felt your hands wrap around him “I w-won’t say anything either.” He sputtered out as you moved your hand up and down while remaining eye contact with him, god you were such a bitch. Keeping eye contact with him while slowly jerking him off knowing it’d make him more embarrassed and completely bricked.

You leaned up releasing your hold on his arm and pressing a kiss to his lips that were letting out small whimpers and grunts. It grew sloppy very fast with Armin being eager. His hips were bucking up into your hand and his hands were just by his side not knowing where to go or what to touch, maybe your wrist? Your waist? Your shoulder? Or should he just keep them where they were? His mind was full of just you and only you that he couldn’t even think straight and you hadn’t even really begun to do anything yet.

You moaned into his mouth as he did the same before gently pulling away with a thin string of saliva connecting you two, your lip gloss was now on his lips and even around it, you could only imagine what it looked like on your lips now. Armin watched as your head tilted down to the movement you were causing in the confinements of his pants before you looked right back at him tilting your head curiously.

“Can I?” Armin wasn’t sure exactly what you were asking here but he had an idea so he nodded ferociously but when your hand left his pants, he got confused.

When he saw you beginning to take off your panties and shorts in one go, that’s when he caught on and began to do the same. He lifted his hips to slide off his grey sweatpants and then his all-black Nike Pros allowing both of the clothing articles to pool at his ankles as he sat there awkwardly waiting for you.

You grinned up at Armin before transferring yourself to his lap using it as a chair but you were just hovering over him now with your knees on each side of him supporting your body as you lined him up with your dripping cunt.

Armin’s hands instinctively went to your waist as you rested on his shoulders. The male stared up at you as you carefully perfected the lineup to make sure he didn’t miss the hole, he’d wanted you for the longest and he finally was going to get you. I mean, this wasn’t how he was planning on it going down, he was going to ask you out and then you guys would get to this part but this was okay too. It was great actually because he didn’t know if he could wait until you two started to date to get some of you. He definitely could not but good thing you’re a slut right?

A loud moan left your mouth as you slowly lowered yourself onto Armin’s cock making him throw his head back while he leaned back in his chair.

His back arched as you fully sunk, his legs spread allowing you to bottom out as you let out a whimper at Armin’s nails digging into the bare flesh of your hips harshly surely leaving indents there “Are you okay?” Armin asked as he managed to open his eyes and look at you reaching up one of his hands to cup your cheek carefully.

That’s one of the things you loved most about him. He was always thinking about other people. You were sure Armin was losing his mind right now by the way he was scarcely thrusting up into you and the grunts in between his words and yet he was still making sure you were okay when you were way more than okay. Nearly losing yourself in how full you felt but you were still feeling amazing.

You nodded your head as you smiled at him “Of course. Are you?” Armin nodded silently at your question taking in the warmth of being inside you and how tight you were, squeezing him every other second. You began to play with his hair slicking it back and running your fingers through it making a mess of the beautiful blonde locks. You wish you’d been able to do this when he had his long hair but this was just as enjoyable.

Armin leaned in for a kiss again which you happily obliged to. The kiss started sweet and soft as your hands went to his neck holding onto him for support as you began to grind on him rubbing your thighs against his which made the brutal feeling of his nails piercing into your skin grow. You and Armin's tongues fought for dominance with it quickly ending with Armin taking control, you’d like to say you let him but you didn’t. He won the battle and got a little rougher with his win.

He kissed you harsher as he pulled you closer to his body. Armin lifted you taking you by surprise before slamming you back down on him making you shout into the kiss and biting down onto Armin’s lip “Sorry…” You muttered as you broke the kiss watching as Armin touched his bottom lip which was bleeding a bit before looking down at the tip of his finger “It’s fine. Just keep going, baby.” You couldn’t even think of a response and just continued your grinding but this time you were bouncing a bit closing your eyes as you moaned.

Armin’s hand snuck up your shirt and under your bra squeezing your boob roughly as he went and buried his face in your neck kissing and sucking on you, covering the bare skin with purple marks some darker than others. His nails released their hold on your skin and his hand trailed down to your butt harshly groping it as he bit down on your neck smearing the blood of his lip all over your neck.

“Fuck.” You cursed getting quicker with your pace as you fucked yourself on his cock while whimpering like a slut. It’s a little crazy how Armin was just the one that was whimpering a second ago but now you were and he was the cause. 

You never pictured Armin as a rough lover. In your fantasies, he was always so gentle, so calm, his fingers softly trailing over your skin as he whispered comforting words into your ears. Nothing like how he was in reality, biting you, covering you in hickies, creating indents in your skin from how rough he was grabbing you.

You weren’t necessarily complaining, it just took you by surprise and you didn’t know how to react other than with your moans of delight “So pretty. You put this on for me?” Armin asked as he backed away from your neck leaning right back in his chair as he lifted your shirt revealing the lacy bra, you didn’t even say anything and just nodded rapidly while continuing to moan “Was for me to take off or look at ‘cus...I don’t know which one I wanna do.” The blonde cooed looking up at you as you finally opened your eyes to look at him. You’ve never really seen Armin look at you like that, you’ve never seen him look at anyone like that. His eyes lidded damn nere closed, lust in his eyes, a smirk on his face and it seemed as if the blue of his eyes were more noticeable than usual. They were practically glowing as they traveled up and down your half-naked body.

“I don’t know…” You blabbered. You couldn’t even remember what you put the bra on for if it was just for him to look at or if it was for him to take it off too. You just wanted to look pretty for him and didn’t think that far ahead into what he would do “C’mon baby…you gotta know.” Armin whispered slapping a hand on your ass and making you jolt up earning a small whimper from him.

If you didn’t know before, you definitely don’t know now with how he was talking to you “W-Which ever you want.” You sputtered out as you slowed down your movements trying to compose yourself your eyes shutting close again.

Armin hummed in delight at your words “Really? I think I’m gonna keep it on you. Makes ‘em look so pretty.” He spoke lowly running one of his fingers over the pattern of the lace, his eyes locked on your boobs less ashamed now. You nodded and hummed as you sat still on him getting more sensitive by the moment just from him being inside of you.

The male’s blue eyes drifted down to where you two were connected and looked back up at you “Baby, you’re gorgeous and I love you but I’m gonna need you to move a little faster f’me.” Armin cooed smiling up at you. It’s not like you were going fast exactly before you stopped but something was better than nothing even if he wanted much more.

You smiled brightly and opened your eyes peering down at him “I love you too Armin.” The blonde let out a laugh and his smile widened. It was no surprise that you only paid attention to that part of his sentence, it looked like there was nothing in that head of yours anymore “You need me to take control? You can just lay there and look pretty, I don’t mind.” He said sweetly tilting his head slightly making his blonde hair sway and it made him look even more pretty.

No matter how much he cut his hair, his golden locks were always so silky especially when they moved in the slightest tilt of his head or the small blow of the wind “No, I-I got it.” You said placing your hands on his chest before beginning to move once more but this time you weren’t grinding with the addition of small bouncing, you were going up and down making slapping sounds echo off the off-white walls with wet sounds following it.

Groans escaped Armin’s throat with some slips of whimpers and whines as he threw his head back, hands gripping your ass as if his life depended on it while your tits bounced in the lacy fabric in his face. Armin’s blue eyes stayed focused on you and didn’t close once, he wanted to keep looking at you and how pretty you looked with your mouth wide open letting out pornographic sounds.

Armin had never admitted it to anyone in the world but he always thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He believed it when he was young and still believed it.

Even though he hadn’t told anyone about it, a few people caught on when he was younger maybe in his elementary or middle school years? He didn’t quite remember but what he did remember was when Eren came to him during their math class and told him about how obvious his feelings for you were. Armin was so embarrassed when that happened and a little devastated by what Eren said but he did it anyway because that was his best friend and he’d do anything for him.

But looking back at that, he was sure he only agreed to that because Eren was his only friend and he was very much a pushover.

“Armin, I know you like my sister.” Eren had told him when sitting down on the empty desk beside the blonde’s with a straight face. Armin’s face went pale and his eyes widened in shock at that moment not knowing what to say as he was just doing long division a second ago.

He dropped his #2 pencil on the worksheet and pushed his glasses up “Don’t lie. I always see you looking at her.” Eren said narrowing his eyes at his friend practically sensing that guilty excuses of denial were soon going to start pouring out of his friend’s mouth “Sorry eren…She’s just…very pretty.” The long-haired boy muttered as he began fumbling with his fingers while looking at his lap refusing to meet his friend’s eyes.

Eren sighed as he dropped his head understanding how he was probably making his friend very nervous “I know. I can’t keep those stupid soccer boys away from her.” He grumbled remembering all the times he’s literally had to jump in front of you with his arms in the air yelling for them to back away from his little sister. He didn’t think you were old enough to be dating even though he’s had his fair share of five-day relationships. Eren would use that excuse for you until you were in the eighth grade and would then lay out a list of guys you shouldn’t date because ‘they’re the worst guys ever’ which consisted of soccer guys, basketball guys, and Jean. Jean was the only specific name on there.

Armin glanced up at his friend still nervous as he shuffled in his seat “Look, I don’t care if you like her or anything but don’t date her! I’d love to have you as a brother but she’s super annoying, you deserve better than her.” Eren said with a small pout on his lips making Armin laugh but the blue-eyed boy nodded while agreeing with the conditions “Okay eren. I won’t date her.”

It was stupid how he told Eren that but continued to like you after all this time. Armin was sure that the ‘deserved better than her’ reason had worn off now and was replaced by something like ‘It’s just so gross’ and Armin understood where Eren was coming from now. He and Eren had kissed two times at two separate parties both times with them being basically blackout drunk and of course, you didn’t know, no one knew and that’s the way both of them wanted it to stay, and Eren seeing him start dating his sister after all of that would be very weird for Eren and Armin. Armin still wanted to date you regardless though but was still considering how Eren would feel about it.

But who said he couldn’t fuck you? Eren didn’t have to know about that and if he did find out, it’d just be something to ease him into accepting Armin dating you.

Plus, it’s not like Armin cared very much about what Eren felt now that he was six inches deep inside of the warmth of your soaking cunt.

“Ughn! Shit, you feel so good.” Armin whined loudly as he squeezed his eyes closed feeling a tightness in his stomach but he quickly snapped them back open reminding himself of the beauty in front of him who was quite literally doing all the work to make him and herself feel good. Shit, by the way, you were fucking yourself out, he wouldn’t have cared if you wanted to peg the shit outta him.

The pleasure both of you felt was soon interrupted by a loud ringing of someone’s phone. You opened your eyes and turned your head around slowing the bouncing and resorting to grinding which made Armin hate phones “Who is it?” He asked though it came out as a whine with his heavy breathing. You saw his phone glowing and ringing on the desk which his PC sat on and you squinted trying to see the contact name through the growing tears of pleasure and when you saw it your eyes widened and you let out a whine of frustration.

It was Eren. Stupid Eren being a cockblock once again.

Yeah, you did this whole thing to get back at Eren and take advantage of your anger against your brother to finally do what you’ve wanted to for a while but if he called, you were going to stop. Having your brother listen to you fucking his best friend was disgusting. His finding out about it was a whole other thing and now in the state of mind you were from this dick that made you dumb, you didn’t really care too much about if he’d find out at all.

Fuck, this wasn’t even about getting back at Eren anymore. This was about feeling your desire and your need for the blonde.

“S’ eren…” You muttered turning back to Armin with a saddened look on your face and his eyes widened too seemingly snapping out of whatever trance you had put him in. He took his hand off the flesh of your ass and went to reach for his phone with his hand trembling from the pleasure he was still receiving from your small movements but you placed one of your hands on the desk in front of the phone before he could grab it.

You shook your head as you sped up the pace lifting yourself up and down once more “Don’t get it.” You pleaded looking down at Armin hoping to persuade him to just ignore the call and he didn’t say anything and just stared back at you. He broke eye contact and looked behind you seeing the phone and sighed. He knew Eren was just going to keep calling until he eventually got the idea that he was not going to answer the phone and he’d definitely get scolded for not picking up.

Fuck it. It’s whatever.

“Fine.” The Arlert male said looking back up at you and you smiled slightly before picking up the pace making Armin’s calm manner quickly disappear and back into his little whines and deep groans “Fuck, you killing me.” Armin said with a groan his hand gripping the edge of the desk and his other digging his short nails into your ass once again remaking the marks that had faded.

You leaned down and began placing sloppy kisses onto the fair-colored skin of his neck and he gave you full access with his head being thrown back. Your body pressed further against his with your boobs pressing against his hard chest making you moan onto his neck from the feeling of your sensitive nipples pressing against him.

You could feel yourself inching closer and closer to a release with every second and every bounce. You were falling more in love with Armin as his pretty groans and whimpers filled the silence along with yours, he was so sweet, so gentle yet still so rough but it was the perfect balance.

That balance was pleasurable enough but the sound of your moans mixing with his was like the most perfect lemonade to ever exist. Sweet and Sour, the sour was his occasional deep groans after the sweetness of his whimpers had run out.

Your back arched as you let out a loud whine letting go and cumming all over his cock biting down on his neck as your toes curled.

However, Armin hadn’t cum and he was not done. Not one bit. His other hand came back to your ass and he continued to bounce you up and down even after you had stopped to catch your breath “Sorry…just need this s’bad!” Armin apologized with his voice wavering. You weren’t really sure what he was apologizing for exactly, maybe the increase in roughness? Maybe the sudden force? It didn’t matter because you didn’t care. He was just helping you ride out your orgasm. Well, the rest of it.

Soon you felt his warm seed sputtering inside of you and filling you all up, it seemed endless until it stopped “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” Armin asked through his deep breaths, his chest rising and falling under your sweaty palm as you retracted your face from the crook of his neck to look at him breathing just as heavy as he was.

You shook your head lightly “No, m’ okay…” You whispered as you tried to catch your breath and Armin nodded at your answer.

His hands went to your hips much gentler than they were before almost as if you were fine china and it was the first time he was using you and in a way, it was. He lifted you from his limp cock with ease and allowed you to stand to your feet but your legs and feet had fallen asleep by now, it’d be pretty hard to walk home now “What are you doing?” Armin asked as he saw you bending over to grab the clothes you had discarded while he pulled up his Nike Pros but kicked the sweatpants off.

You looked at him not really knowing what to say and just shrugged your shoulders “Can’t leave yet, I still gotta clean you up.” Armin said standing to his feet and swooping you into his arms not asking you or giving you any heads-up so you sat there being carried confused as to what he was doing.

“I just do that myself when I get home.” You said as the blonde carried you to the bathroom kicking open the cracked door before waddling over to the tub “Why? It’s the least I can do, you were practically doing all the work.” Armin said laughing awkwardly as he set you inside the porcelain tub being careful before reaching over and letting you take the remainder of your clothing off before turning on the faucet letting the warm water flow into the tub and onto your feet.

It wasn’t necessarily a secret that you had your more than fair share of horrible boyfriends but not everyone in the world knew. Armin and a few of you two’s other friends knew because either you told them or Eren blabbed his mouth to them about every time you’d complain to him about some stupid guy and that’s the reason why Armin knew about almost everything. 

Since the ninth grade, he’d heard from Eren about all the horrible guys you’ve dated who played you, lied, cheated, yelled, even left you stranded at a party and all Armin wished was that you found a guy that actually found the sweetness and greatness in you. He wished more than anything that it would be him.

He dreamed about all the things he’d do for you, to you, and with you, that’d put a smile on your face. All the things you’d deserve that he’d give you even if it nearly killed him.

He wanted that more than ever right now as he looked at you relaxing in the hot water that was filling up the tub very fast. He reached his hand into the tub and grabbed yours holding it comfortingly and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles which made your eyes open and dart to him “I love you (y/n).” Armin spoke softly leaning his cheek against the side of his tub never looking away from you with his light-colored eyelashes fluttering with minor blinks and it seemed as if he was trying to stop blinking so he wouldn’t waste a single second looking away from you.

“I love you too Armin.” You said with a kind smile on your face as you squeezed his hand with his cheeks turning red from your words. Your smile slowly turned from kind to mischievous as your pure thoughts changed to the complete opposite realizing you were naked.

You lifted your foot out of the tub and rested it on the edge which drew the blonde’s attention “Y’know armin…I didn’t learn much from your study session.” You whispered looking back up at Armin who very quickly caught onto what you were trying to say and got incredibly embarrassed “Come on, you’re the one that called it that…” He muttered lifting his head from the side of the tub as he looked away from you his cheeks burning a bright red.

That was true, you were the one who called it that but you both didn’t even attempt to get down to the science. Got down and dirty before Armin could even get to the beginning of the science work “Yeah but I hope we get another one, I actually wanna learn somethin’.” You said shrugging your shoulders as you placed your other leg on the other side of the tub spreading them.

Armin’s eyes were locked on your wet legs as water dripped in droplets from your calves, he wondered if his cum was still there or if it had washed out into the water “What next? Seems like you got biology down pretty good.” He said meeting your eyes again with a smile on his face that matched yours.

“Maybe neuroscience. I can teach you stuff too like what makes girls happy.” Armin almost laughed at how you were referring to serotonin but clearly forgot what it was called, he would’ve if he didn’t watch how the drops of water rolled down your tits to your areolas and down to your tummy.

Armin brought his hand to your leg and rubbed it up and down making you bite down into your lip “I think I know what makes girls happy.” He said his hand growing closer to your crotch moving down to your inner thigh and the ache in your cunt returned practically pulsing as you watched the way he looked at you. Seemed he realized the way you were squeezing around nothing.

You tilted your head as you looked at him sinking deeper into the warm water “Really? What makes me happy then?” You questioned with a whine slipping out with each inch Armin’s hand came closer and his smirk widened as the glowing in his eyes returned as if he was some sort of predator getting ready to pounce and eat you alive.

“Me.”

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[bucketslutz]

Don't Be Late (Professer Logan Howlett/Fem Student Mutant Reader)

Chapter Summary: Logan's behavior continues to intrigue you as you begin to struggle to hide your feelings towards him.

A/N: I've never churned out a chapter so fast before. i'm having a lot of fun writing this!

Warnings: Smut, 18+, minors DNI!!, unprotected p in v, dirty talking, logan talks you through it lowk, grinding, swearing, no use of Y/N, pet names for reader tho🤭

Word Count: 4,040

Chapter 2

The door to the classroom creaks open loudly causing you to turn your head abruptly from your notebook, finding Logan staring at you incredulously. Adamant to not repeat the same mistake as you did Monday, you arrived at class 15 minutes early this morning. You smile awkwardly and look back to your notes, trying not to pay him any mind, despite that familiar swirl deep in your stomach telling you to jump him right then and there.

“Early bird today huh, bub?” Logan chides, his sudden display of humor surprising you. You chuckle, unsure of how to respond.

“Yeah, getting used to that commute, Monday I was too late, today I’m too early, what can ‘ya do?” you reply, laughing lightly, not to Logan’s amusement, however, who glares at you like a horn protruded from your skull as he settles himself at the head of the classroom. You clear your throat and go back to your notes. So, he’s funny, but he doesn’t like small talk, got it. You think to yourself, becoming even more confused by his demeanor. You couldn’t find anything about him online last night, not a social media post, no articles, no information about his credentials besides a flimsy description on the school’s website that describes him as having a “masters degree in the history of american wars,” whatever that means. It doesn’t say where his degree is from either. Everything about this man is clouded in obscurity.

You jump slightly when Logan slams a piece of paper in front of you. Glancing upwards, attempting to meet his gaze, you’re confused to see he’s already turned away from you and walking to the front of the room. You look down at the paper to see it’s the attendance sheet, your name already has a check mark next to it. Before you can even mutter a thanks, people have already started to file into class and you swallow any more potential verbiage that may escape your mouth, not wanting anyone to perceive you.

…

“Professor Howlett, I’m not quite sure I understand,” a brunette in the front row pouts, “Could I see you after class?” she asks suggestively, flicking her hair and resting her pencil between her lips. Her attempt to subtly gain Logan’s attention almost makes you laugh.

“It’s Logan. And no,” he snaps, not breaking his focus from the dates he’s writing on the board. The girl scoffs in surprise and sits back in her chair in defeat, looking at her friends on her right and left like she couldn’t believe he would rebuff her like that. It’s not lost on you now that Logan is very attractive, at least, you’re not the only person who finds him attractive; maybe not the only person who has had a lewd wet dream about him either. Why that girl would attempt to be so bold is beyond you, seeing as Logan is so goddamn terrifying. Just one look from him makes you want to crawl into a shell and never come out again.

“Friday’s essay—I want you to write about independence,” Logan asserts, leaning against the whiteboard and nonchalantly crossing his arms. The room is quiet, some people even looking around for clarification, yourself included. The brunette in the front row raises her hand causing Logan to roll his eyes and nod in her direction, affirming her request.

“I’m sorry, like, do you mean what independence means? Or how it played a part in the revolutionary war? Or, like, what it means to maybe fight for it in the modern era?” she asks carefully, not wanting him to snap at her again. Logan considers her for a moment.

“Yeah, sure,” he concedes with a shrug of his shoulders. There’s still an air of confusion hanging in the room. You’re struggling to understand how this man made it past a vetting process to secure his position in the first place. Logan looks at his watch, sighing in relief. “That’s all I’ve got. See ‘ya Monday.”

Logan wastes no time in collecting his coat and briefcase and rushing out of the classroom. Everyone pauses, sharing glances of bewilderment. You avoid eye contact with others, opting to just quietly collect your things and depart with the one or two stragglers who’ve made the same choice you did.

…

It’s painfully slow at the store. You had hoped there was inventory that needed to be stocked, or a shipment, or cleaning, a robbery even. But there’s no action here. The only customers being two teenagers who bought candy and soda after school, an old man and a case of beer, and an old lady with a pack of smokes. That’s it. That’s all you’ve seen for the past 5 hours. The free time at least allows you to work on Logan’s essay for Friday. The vague topic gave you quite a bit of room to work, it’s a good thing you have a lot to say or else you would’ve had a much harder time working on this. The store’s door opens with a jingle, the bells hanging by the hinge shaking, the sound draws your attention.

You’re surprised to see Logan entering, broad shoulders tucked into a brown leather jacket. He scans the store and eventually makes eye contact with you. Your breath hitches when you notice the chest hair peaking out from beneath his wife beater, the tank top revealing slightly more of his chiseled physique than you’re used to seeing. You involuntarily clench at the thought of what he might look like without that tank top on…No. You shake the thought from your head, trying to keep your composure despite your growing arousal towards your professor; an arousal that only started from that damned wet dream.

Boots click against the linoleum tile towards the register you’re situated behind. Logan slams a case of Budweiser onto the counter as he rifles through his wallet for cash. You quietly ring him up.

“Get me two Arturos,” he instructs, rather impolitely. You look at him, he doesn’t even attempt to make eye contact. You decide to make a little joke, seeing as he was feeling so humorous this morning.

“What’s the magic word?” you coo, teasingly, through a friendly smile. Logan finally looks up at you through slightly raised brows.

“Go fuck yourself.” Logan was not in a teasing mood.

You purse your lips in embarrassment and defeat as you retrieve two Arturo cigars from behind you. With a sigh, you ring him up and tell him his total. He pays in cash. As you’re loading the bills into the register, Logan hesitates before leaving.

“What’re you doing working this far out of town? Aren’t there better stores to work at closer to campus?” he questions. You try to hide your surprise at his inquiry before answering.

“Oh, uh, I don’t live too far from here. It’s an easier commute when I’m not taking classes,” you answered, trying to be as matter of fact as you can possibly be. Logan chuckles.

“No offense, but how can you afford a place over here? Who the hell died and left you their place?” he asks, resting a hand on his hip. You swallow hard, not wanting to draw too much attention to the peculiarity of your living arrangement. Houses over here are expensive, there’s only farmland on acreage that can be worth millions. But sometimes a plot of land can be cheaper than a whole house, and a whole house is something that you can manage to manifest with your powers by consuming around 25,000 calories a day. You offer Logan the same answer you’ve prepared for anyone else who might question you this way.

“I used to rent here until my landlord passed away and left me the property. I’m just lucky, I guess,” you explained with a shrug of your shoulders, trying to hide your nerves. You tug at the hem of your polo, hoping that’s the last of his line of questioning. Logan just offers a simple nod of understanding, before turning around and heading towards the door.

“What about you?” you blurt out, shocking yourself with your own abruptness and sudden want to continue the conversation. Logan turns on his heel and stares at you in confusion.

“Whaddya mean?” he asks, narrowing his hazel eyes.

“I mean, it’s just such a hike from campus, I was just—I mean it’s a fair question. You asked me, I ask you, you know?” you explained clumsily, hoping he at least understood a quarter of what you were trying to say. He looks down at the floor and chuckles with a shake of his head.

“I do live around here, if that’s what you’re asking.” He turns on his heel and starts towards the door. “See ‘ya Friday.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, and you try not to watch his ass, framed by those tight, worn jeans, as he exits the store. Unsure if the feeling in your chest is caused by anxiety, or how you secretly want to bang your professor, you clear your throat in an attempt to bring your mind back down to planet earth.

Despite your own constant correction and policing of your mind, you can’t help but drift away; reminiscing in the way Dream Logan devoured your pussy like no one else ever has. The way he roughly grabbed and pawed at you, pleasuring you in a desperate, animalistic way. Why your subconscious brewed up this intoxicating cocktail, is beyond you. You’ve never been with someone who’s fucked you the way Logan did in your dream, nor have you ever watched any porn that portrays a man acting that way towards someone. No matter what you tell yourself, it felt so inexplicably real. You’re starting to believe that the way Logan acted in your subconscious was strangely true to how he really does act in real life. But no matter, you have an essay to write, for a class you cannot figure out whether or not it's happening on Friday due to Logan’s own vagueness and potential misspeaking.

By the time you finally get home from work, you have maybe a page and a half written of your essay. In an attempt to be as prepared as possible, you decide to finish your work tonight so you can proofread and edit throughout the day tomorrow. But you’re struggling to keep your eyes open at your desk. It’s 1:30 in the morning, and you have a class at 9 am, but you don’t want to pull an all-nighter tomorrow just to work on this stupid essay. It’s getting increasingly more and more difficult to focus. Your bed, just a few feet behind you, beckons to you. It’s so, so tempting. Maybe resting my eyes for just a few minutes wouldn’t hurt, you think to yourself, wanting to give in to your exhaustion so desperately. You lay your head back against your chair and close your eyes. Oh, this feels so good.

So, so good.

Your eyes, half slit, peek open to see a broad chest; you're barely awake as an arm hooks under your legs and behind your back and cradles you before lifting you up against the strong, firm chest. You hum gently, turning into the man’s touch and getting comfortable. You feel yourself being lowered down onto your bed and tucked in under your comforter gently before the bed dips behind you as you’re joined in comfort by the man that tucked you in so tenderly. His arms wrap around you and he pulls your back flush against his chest, meeting the curve of his pelvis with the protrusion of your ass. He’s so warm and firm against your back, cocooning you in an embrace so gentle that it almost makes you want to wake up and fuck him.

You sigh in contentment, circling your ass ever so gently against his crotch, hoping to feel a firm indication of arousal through the boxers of the man behind you. A rough groan emanates from behind you as the pair of arms draped around your waist tighten slightly. His breath is hot against your neck, his scratchy beard tickling you.

His hands move up your stomach and to your chest where he palms your breasts languidly. The grip on your tits causes you to arch your back into his crotch, finally feeling the stiff outline of his cock against your ass. You smile and hum as he trails kisses up and down your neck, biting the flesh there gently.

“Not so tired now, huh, baby?” Logan’s voice rasps from behind you, causing you to gasp quietly. He’s here.

“You’re hard to resist,” you purr, an inexplicable truth bleeding through your words. You turn your torso, facing him, “I missed you.”

Your fingers raise to run over the patch of stubble on his chin that’s nestled between his mutton chops. His eyes look hungry, desperate. His hands, still fixed on your breasts, now lazily stroke them through your shirt.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, his mouth turned upward into a cocky grin. You nod in response. He places a gentle kiss to your lips, chastely.

“You know, I missed you too,” he whispers against your lips. He kisses you again.

“Yeah?” you ask flirtatiously, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip as he continues to kiss you repeatedly, gingerly making contact each time.

“Why don’t you show me how badly you missed me big guy?” you challenge against Logan's lips, your voice dripping in a seductive tone. He smiles against your lips before shoving you roughly onto your back, situating himself between your legs. One hand moves to your waist, the other pressed against the wall above your head to support his weight.

“I’ll do just that, princess,” his gravelly voice beckons to you from above, his breath fanning your face. A flirtatious smile spreads across your face, causing Logan to waste no time in capturing your lips with his. Unlike last time when you were pinned on his couch, this kiss is sensual and tender. His tongue dances with yours carefully, creating a specific pace with the move of his lips. You follow suit, matching his rhythm, allowing your hands to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. His hips grind down into yours, the two of you moaning into the kiss at the sudden friction. Logan’s hand moves down your waist and under your shirt, traveling up to your bare breast. His thumb circles your nipple softly as his hands knead your tender flesh. You arch your back into his touch, humming in contentment against the kiss.

You could be here for hours, Logan palming at your breasts, his stiff cock grinding against your pussy, the rhythmic swipe of his tongue between each expert kiss to your lips. You’re putty under him. Needing to feel more of him, you snake your hands down his back, and slip them under the hem of his wife beater. You hike the hem up his torso, incapable of moving it much further. Logan breaks the kiss and sits up before he pulls the tank the rest of the way off his body and over his head, revealing his bare torso to you. He’s unbelievably toned, chiseled like he was made by the gods. The veins in his chest and arms bulge with each breath he takes. You bite your bottom lip as you take him in, your fingers creeping up his abs, eventually sliding up his chest to stroke it tenderly. You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking at Logan seductively.

“Come here, baby,” Logan growls, snaking an arm around your waist before hoisting you up onto him. Your legs wrap around his waist as he spins the two of you around so his back is against the headboard and you’re straddling him. You can feel the full length of him at this angle as he’s aligned deliciously with your pussy, applying the most intoxicating pressure to your clit. Logan stares at you hungrily, pressing your chest into his, his hands firmly gripping your waist. You both moan as he grinds up into your pussy with his hand occasionally dipping down to squeeze your tight ass. You mewl at the feel of his hand there.

“Need more of you, princess,” he growls, taking no more than a second to grip the hem of your shirt and rip it up off of your head, you gasp with no time to react when he reaches down to the waistband of your shorts and tears them in half with ease. Both your shirt and ruined shorts tossed carelessly onto the floor.

“Logan!” you exclaim, trying your best to hide your amusement from him.

“Much better,” he drawls. He attacks your neck where he aggressively trails kisses and bites up and down the flesh, occasionally sucking and leaving purple marks in his wake. You throw your head back in ecstasy as you grind your naked cunt onto his cock, wetting the fabric of his boxers with your slick. His head dips down to your breasts, sucking purple bruises into your skin and leaving as many marks as he can before bringing a sensitive bud between his lips and sucking there as well. You moan throatily, gripping the back of his head and forcing his head further onto your breasts as he sucks, licks, and bites with animalistic need. You circle your free nipple with your fingers as he continues his onslaught, alternating with him when he switches attention between each breast. The feel of Logan’s clothed, firm cock against your clit as you grind against him is not enough. You need more of him.

“Logan,” you whine. “I need you. Inside me.” Your hand travels down to the waistband of his boxers, slipping them down as far as you can in desperation.

Logan responds by lifting you slightly off of him, allowing you to pull his boxers further down. You watch as his cock reveals itself, pressed firmly against his stomach. Your breath hitches at the sight. The girth shocks you, curious how it’d feel splitting you into two. You’re sure his length would take up entirety of your pussy once inside, most definitely pressing into your cervix no matter the position. A gasp leaves your lips as your hand wraps around his length, surprised at the difficulty in which your fingers have encasing the entirety of him. Logan hisses against your breast at the sudden touch, the grip on your waist growing tighter. He leaves one last lick on your breast before capturing your mouth in a feverish kiss. He attacks your mouth aggressively, his occasional bites almost making your lips bleed, his tongue thrusting into your mouth without a care. The onslaught of your mouth is so intoxicating, you almost don’t notice him lifting you up to position himself at your entrance. The tip of his cock prods your pussy and you whine into the kiss, driving your hips down as much as you can.

“We’re gonna take it nice and slow, baby,” Logan rasps against your lips encouragingly. Logan grips your jaw so you’ll look into his eyes, “You’re gonna take it all for me, won’t you?”

You nod eagerly as you squirm on top of him, so desperate for him to fill you up. He slides himself in about an inch further, causing your moan to turn to a wince at the delicious stretch he applies to your pussy.

“That’s it, princess,” Logan praises with a gravelly drawl that makes you melt. He groans as he spears into you a few more inches, your moans fanning his face.

“Good girl,” Logan encourages, making you fawn, “Just take a bit more for me, princess.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as he splits you open. He's bottomed out inside of you and already grazing your cervix. Your pussy’s stretched to its maximum around his girth. You can tell Logan is holding back, he’s tense beneath you, gripping you with such fervor that you’re sure he’ll leave marks.

“Logan,” you pant, “fuck me.”

He grunts as you raise your hips, allowing him the space to thrust up into you. The force of his thrust makes you groan in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“That’s a good girl, take it,” he coaxes, thrusting slowly into you, acclimating you to his length. Slowly, the winces become replaced with needy, lewd moans. Giving Logan permission to hammer into you harder and harder with the progression of groans and moans that escape your throat.

His cock is so deep inside of you that it applies the most delicious pressure to your cervix, pinching it each time he bottoms out. The feeling is so full, so stretched, each ridge he passes making you moan in ecstasy.

“So tight…so, so tight for me, baby,” Logan growls, his face so close to yours that his beard scratches your face with each of his thrusts. “M’gonna pound this fuckin’ pussy.”

The feel of his breath against your neck makes you whimper. His mouth latching onto you and biting down possessively making you yelp in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Logan hoists you up off of his pelvis, supporting the entirety of your weight in his arms. To keep your balance, you grip his shoulders tightly gasping when Logan begins to hammer into you with such strength and speed you almost sob.

“Yes,” he drawls, his voice raspy and breathing ragged, “good girl, you take it so well for me.”

Your moans become unrecognizable to you as a pleasure unlike any other you’ve experienced ravages all your senses; Logan’s mouth on your neck, his cock surely bruising your cervix, his finger suddenly drifting down to your clit to rub circles into the sensitive bud. The pitch in your voice rises with each flick of your sensitive nub. If you were with any other person, surely you’d feel self conscious about the way you’re screaming—almost sobbing as you’re being fucked up into. But Logan draws this kind of unabashed pleasure from you that makes you forget where you are in the world and allows you to just focus on how fucking good he feels inside of you. How he can sustain this kind of power, force, and strength as he fucks into you, is beyond you, especially while supporting your weight with only one arm. Your cries of pleasure grow further and further together as the familiar swirl of heat and pleasure rises in your stomach.

“Keep going, Logan, keep going…don’t stop,” you plead as you desperately seek your release.

“You gonna come for me?” Logan grunts into your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making a whimper escape your lips.

“Yes, Logan,” you mewl, now cheek to cheek with him, his beard almost vibrating against you as he sustains the speed of his thrusts.

“You take it so well, princess, can’t wait to feel you come around this cock,” he rasps into your ear, taking a lobe between his teeth and nibbling gently.

Your pleasure swirls inside of you, building and building into white hot pressure against your clit, causing your breaths to quicken and thighs to clench.

“Logan, I’m—“ you warn.

“Look into my eyes when I make you come, babygirl,” Logan commands, pulling your head back to look at you.

“M-my eyes?” you question, a wave of realization washing over your face of what he might see if that happens, “No…I can’t.”

A gasp jerks you awake. Your chest heaves, your pussy clenching around nothing. A pain grows in your neck and lower back, due to the position you feel asleep in your chair. This one felt so much more real than the last one, a slight lucidity to your thoughts and feelings. How the hell are you supposed to look him in the eye on Friday? Everything just felt so right.

Doing your best to shake your feelings from your head, you check the time on your phone to see it’s only 1:45 am. You huff in annoyance, looking back to the essay you neglected for a wet dream.

...

A/N: i promise this will probably be the last chapter that ends like this, i just desperately need an excuse to write logan smut without compromising the plot too much🤭 hope you enjoyed. to view this work on ao3 click here

[stitched-mouth-vs-the-world]

Just For Research

Pairing: Professor! Rick Sanchez x College Student! GN! Reader.

Summary: When Rick discovers his top student is a virgin, he knows he must change that so she can write her paper on human pheromones.

Warnings: Smut, Intercourse (P in ?), Virginity Loss, Teacher x Student relationship, Age Gap, Virgin! Reader.

Writing Time: 30 minutes.

Word Count: 652.

Format: Kinktober Fic, Day 7.

A/N:

Woke up in the middle of the night and decided to just write this. Sorry for any mistakes, this is not proofread. I'm just really trying to make sure everything is written before October arrives so the quality is some fics might be lacking a little, this might be one of them. This is probably my shortest fic so far. Oh well.I also have completely forgotten what it was like in college. I did about 3 months of Combined Science in the UK before I dropped out for an apprenticeship instead and I don't remember anything about those 3 months. So this could be all completely wrong but tbh I really don't care.I tried really hard to keep it GN, which is getting harder and harder for me due to the lack of gender neutral terms in the English language but I'll keep managing.Hope you enjoy, I've been eager to write something for Rick for ages now.

Here is the masterlist for all my Kinktober works.

---///---

Thoughts were swarming your head, making it almost impossible to think about what was currently happening.

'How did this happen?' You thought, 'This couldn't of been an accident, but how then did it happen?'

You let out a torn scream, but Rick was fast to cover your mouth and silence it.

"Shut up little Whore, or the whole building will hear you." He huffed.

Just a second ago you and Rick was discussing your college assignment. Your assignment was to write an essay about the human and animal pheromones that tell them to breed and compare the two. Something fairly basic for a Combined Science class and as the class's top student, Rick expected this assignment to be a breeze for you.

But he had been wrong. For a top student with a bright future in Science, you had no idea about pheromones. Especially the sexual kind. It was the one thing you hadn't studied yourself in your own time nor had you experienced it.

You had come to Rick after class to hopefully explain the subject better for you or give you good resources to look up but once Rick found out you was a virgin, what you got instead was a private lessons on pheromones that included an experimental or practical that would give you the experience.

So now you were bent over his desk taking all of him like the good little one you was.

"Please..." You whimpered, tired and stretched out to the max. It had only been a few minutes but this was completely new to a virgin.

"Please what, Whore?" Rick glared down at you, still thrusting in and out of you at an ungodly pace.

Rick didn't think this was exactly the best way to show someone who had never experienced sexual feelings what they were like, but to be honest, he didn't care. He was just looking for a reason to fuck you. His prettiest most innocent and intelligent little Princess/Prince who always sat in the front row, listening to him with wide ears.

But this had been a good lesson for you. Your sexual desire and need for Professor Sanchez now more than alive, it was insatiable.

"Please more Sir!" You cried.

Rick was a little shocked, but more than happy to oblige. And quickly increased his speed, you looked down and moaned into the once clean desk.

"Yeah? You like this cock? You want more of it, my little cocksleeve?" Rick groaned into your ears.

"Yes!" You nodded eagerly.

Obviously, you came first. You did so with a scream and giant smile. Rick came not too long after you onto your back, with just a few loud grunt.

You was pretty confident now you was gonna Ace this assignment.

[lukolabrainrot]

This is going to be long, I am sorry.

So, recent posts, we are all talking about them, assuming things, trying to find 5 differences and all that, but certain comments sparked a thought in me which I would like to share. What if we all are looking into timeline in the wrong way? Now I would need someone with an actual knowledge of how this promo contracts works to confirm or correct or entirely contradict my little theory. Is there a general timeframe in a contract during which L would have been supposed to post about this hotel or is a truly specifically established day? Now hold that thought, I would like to explain why this theory even came into my head and it’s a bit lengthy.

I think we all notices certain patterns and features in behavior of some less pleasant individuals in L close social circle. And even though we don’t have any concrete proof we have some pretty damning evidence that something went wrong post Part 2 premiere and more importantly during the “happiest” Italian gateway in relation to those particular individuals. We can see it clearly in their behavior during and post that, in pictures as well as drastic behavioral pattern changes. Not going to elaborate on this we have all been here during that and there are more than enough of in depth analysis on various platforms, this lovely blog including.

One such evidence which makes me pretty certain that something happened is actually N herself. There were many, many ways to post about her close friends’ birthday, but she specifically chose those pictures and that phrasing. She could have even just post those cute pictures with some other words, but no, she mentioned paparazzi and friends protecting friends. Along with someone mentioning L leaving two days earlier than his friends (not a 100% fact I concur but definitely possible), this makes me believe he truly learned something to shake those relationships, perhaps some kind of betrayal? And we know that N is protective of people in her life, even as just a friend if he shared the situation with her, I can totally see her wishing to throw some shade on people who put in jeopardy her friends’ safety and privacy. (I would have done exactly the same thing) N just coincidentally had a very convenient, easily deniable way to do just that.

Now I truly do believe that likes on SM mean nothing, just from my personal perspective. We also know that L followed and liked J posts on SM for a while even after a break up. This situation though seems different, A is different. I saw someone make a comment that L likes seem almost like a little reminder to A that he still can see what she is doing, we all know SM games she enjoyed playing promoting their supposed intimacy. At that time I dismissed it because it seemed too far fetched, but what if not? I mean, if he finally comprehended her shadiness, as well as some other people’s, what if he finally sees the bigger picture?

And after this essay finally comes my timeline idea. What if it was not A who posted before L, but he who posted after her? Now read that again. When she just posted a day before L, everyone immediately assumed that it looks like Cypress, and that even though she tries to make it look like someone tall is filming her, something didn’t seem quite right, ergo A playing games again. And is it not strange that her first hazy but more or less direct hint at him being in her life still, came after N and L had some interaction on SM (her posting him, and him liking her post for KS), as well as whole JD situation taking attention away from her? What if L saw it and decided to use his promo to clarify any assumptions. “I am in Spain and I am alone,” he connected it to Bridgeton and made sure to emphasize that he is there by himself. This, of course, is just my little theory. The reason I even came up with it is because I never saw similarities in those pictures myself, and I think L expected people to realize that. Which is why he posted another balcony pic after people started commenting on similarities to As’ post, with one towel, one cup, one person. Now I am not trying to be purposely obtuse or in denial, I genuinely do not see anything beyond passing similarities that can be found in many Mediterranean resorts. And if you look closely at the balcony pictures that most seem to be basing their views on, I suggest you look again. Truly. At picture of L in a cap standing in front of balcony with greenery, take some eye measurements. We know he is approximately 185cm high, the greenery is somewhat at his hip area, A is shorter than L but even still that greenery would not be almost reaching her breasts. But as I said, just my opinion, my observation.

.