#book of bill is driving me to madness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hwaightme · 2 years ago

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Avaritia

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist)

⚫ pairing: ceo/sugar daddy!hongjoong x assistant/afab!reader ⚫ genre: smut... just smut really ⚫ summary: everything has a price, but sugar makes this truth so much sweeter. no matter what he says, hongjoong will buy that new purse for you, will flaunt you in front of his business partners, and will make sure you know you are his. ⚫ wordcount: 8.3k ⚫ warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, tried to edit - lost it - bon appetit, language, teasing, on a flight, a lot of money, wealth, first world, brand name dropping harder than San in the logs, hj is a sweetheart, mc is needy but in denial, full avarice mode lmk if anything else, nsfw tags and playlist rec under the cut ⚫ taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo ⚫ network tags: @k-labels @ateezlovenet @kflixnet ⚫ a/n: Sometimes, I am calm. Other times (read 'all the time) I am getting wrecked by everyone in ATEEZ. Here is what Balmain Joong did to me. Any comments, reblogs much loved; we spiraled into madness (hail sucrose pop, glucose father joong lol)

⚫ nsfw tags: daddy/baby girl dynamic, sugar daddy, reader is a 'doll', soft dom!hj (literally cannot stay mad at mc), overstimulation (seriously what is hj doing to mc...), fingering, mile high club, blowjob, deepthroating, dacryphilia, possessiveness, dirty talk, sex on a desk, unprotected sex (wrap that before you tap that) ⚫ playlist recs: Five Star Hotels by RAYE | Sugar Daddy by Qveen Herby | SAD GIRLZ LUV MONEY Remix by Amaarae | Greed by Shreea Kaul | Mile High by Salina Killa | Do I Move You? by Nina Simone | Money Power Glory by Lana Del Rey

Why was it that when real business was being discussed, the location of choice was always the most extravagant, exotic, luxurious oasis? Everything about the resort screamed unaffordable. 'Exclusive' written in blood on the pristine white sands, only to be washed away by azure blue waves to colour sea foam you could swear was whipped up in a divine patisserie. A perverse flavour inaccessible to the majority but driving the decisions that ruled the world. It was challenging to not become partial to the taboo indulgence when it was handed to you on a silver platter together with a tailor-made career. Anyone would need to acclimatise to what most considered a distant fantasy, but a few flights on a private jet later did wonders in curing the delirium of the average and introducing an insatiable materialism.

Thus, you were not particularly bothered when your boss requested you book another retreat to a private resort in the middle of the ocean - considering the business's cash flow and offshore 'pocket money', this was not too different from your routine trip to the cafe down the street to get his 'coffee' - more sugar than caffeine but this was a secret that you were to keep to the grave; it was written in small print on your contract. It was easy to book when you just needed to send out a few messages to staff and drop a name to any external service people at the right time. Their reaction, stuttering and need for clarification never failed to be amusing; even the most outrageous demands gained appeal once the won, euro, dollars, whatever they wanted from the global wallet, began to stack up. Green bills, green trees - in a twisted way, these boys who liked to play the role of the all-seeing and all mighty were farmers too. And fruits of their labour were always the sweetest.

Sure, you worked hard and had your own path that you could have followed. Even had a degree to prove that you had at least an ounce of dedication. But what would it give you, in fact, what did it give you before your renaissance? Crumbs. Sheer crumbs, student debt and a chronic migraine. But as it turned out, a couple hundred k did wonders when it came to personal health and wellbeing. And on top of that, the myriad of other benefits that your current lifestyle had, had the ability to crush any argument and accusation hurled in your direction, of which you had many. You had figured out soon enough that diamonds were your real best friend, while those who you had considered your ride or die evaporated as soon as they saw you wearing designer. And that had been when the best you could ask for was old collections, and widely available products. You were not lonely. You had too many hats to wear, and a very demanding man, by the name of Kim Hongjoong, to entertain. And one who currently had his eyebrows furrowed, a couple of unruly strands of hair perking up out of his otherwise slick business ‘do, glasses barely holding onto the tip of his beautifully sculpted nose, and was leafing through the papers he had asked you to prepare for the duration of the flight.

For the CEO of a global company, and the heir to an even larger network, he sure as hell was incredibly young. You did not envy his turmoil and exposure to stress one bit, almost feeling sorry and in part guilty, since percentages of his spendings were technically lost on you. There had even been instances when you found yourself sat in a dark room, laptop screen aglow and on a blank page, with you wondering how one crafted a resignation paper. But once you and Hongjoong could have even a couple of moments alone, when he would ravish you, make and call you his and reveal to you all the things he had planned that could not be reflected on his calendar, that document would be promptly deleted and recycle bin emptied. Your ‘relationship’ had been this way since the one meeting, in his main office, on a bright and early morning.

He had called you up into his office and simply told you that he had another ‘job opportunity’ for you. At that point you had been desperate, with financial problems endlessly piling up, from debt to your family’s hospital fees to bailing your estranged brother out of prison. And to make things unethical – Hongjoong had known this. He had done his research – more specifically, he had asked some colleagues in his company, ones who you would never suspect, to snoop around and find out more about you. And as it turned out, you were the perfect candidate for ‘being treated right’ by him, while bearing the title and carrying out the formal façade of secretary and personal assistant duties. In his practice, as well as his father’s and partners’, this was probably the most stable relationship they would ever get in life, so might as well be picky.

Initially, you had simply become a receiver of gifts. Pretending like this was Hongjoong’s love language, you were touched and did not think much of it. Maybe through these purchases he was moving money in ways it should not be moved, but you could not care less – not your problem, not your area of expertise, you had the outcome, and the outcome was something like a crocodile leather bag or a dress fresh off the runway. Hongjoong had insisted on picking every single item out for you, letting his controlling executive side win over. He had explained that you had to look like ‘the prettiest doll in the world’ for him, and for that he needed to check for quality. After a couple of months, however, such sugary sweet presents had been reserved for special occasions, and for the rest, money was wired directly to a new, account, a platinum card he had opened for you and given you. To just step into the consultation room with his portfolio manager and private banking consultant had felt like you were cheating existence. You had been a lowly assistant to an assistant before. And now, decked out in Dior, were sat beside one of the most influential men in the modern era of this industry, letting him hand you eye-watering sums as if it was a couple of coins for a pack of gum.

Now, well, now you were conflicted. As months had turned into a year and were now approaching the two-year mark if you could remember correctly, your ‘relationship’ had started to feel more and more like a real one. Hongjoong had caught himself divulging details of experiences that he had never spoken about with anyone before. And nowadays, when you had sex, it felt less like a mindless fuck and more like making love, with the man expressing more than he ever could with every hot touch, press of his lips to yours, even his lustful intensity had gained a new colour. You could feel that he was confused, but would not dare let go of you – you knew that he put your name down on some very important documents, after all. As such, it was a rare but unbelievable pleasure to push Hongjoong’s buttons and get him all riled up for you, just so he could expel that pressure and that tension from a busy work day out on you. You were that caring of a personal assistant. And wanted him to keep on talking. Keep on telling you his deepest darkest secrets. You wanted to be a part of him, the hedonistic side, the one that seized the day and knew how to enjoy the earthly realm without counting and fighting.

For the flight to the resort and extended series of meetings with key business partners, you had chosen to wear an outfit that you knew Hongjoong was unravelled by. It was a black and white Prada poplin mini dress that did wonders to accentuate your curves and edges, and was paired with some classic, black leather, So Kate Louboutin heels and gold accessories to match the dainty little buttons on the dress. Really, this was dress number two since the last one had been quite literally torn off you by none other than your boss, but he did not want to ruin the night and as such, had promised to contact the house of fashion itself to get an exact replica of the limited edition garment. And this man kept his promises. But right now, even though you were sat in the private office in his jet, with the bodyguards safely outside, lounging and doing whatever bodyguards did to occupy themselves, he was not paying attention to you at all. Only winding himself up more with those compiled quarterly reports that you were now regretting having finalised them and bringing them at all. What was the worst that you would have gotten had you not done the task? A spanking? Oh, how scary… you have had it rougher on a casual and uneventful day. Now you needed to get creative to get his attention, and being needy would not do. So very slowly, gazing out of the window at the clouds your were drifting past, you crossed your legs, revealing the legendary red bottoms of the heels you were wearing, and reached for the notebook and pen that were just peeking out of your handbag. Unbeknownst to you, you already had his attention with your abrupt change of pattern. Normally you would be on your phone, or typing away on your laptop, even remaining idle would be more characteristic, so Hongjoong’s interest was piqued by the little planner that contained all your thoughts and actions. He slouched back in his seat, and raised he papers a little higher, so that he could steal glances at you more discreetly.

You were paying no mind to what your boss was up to, preoccupied by the cream pages and the visualisation of the figure in front of you, but in your mind. Sometimes, when work was slow, you had taken to doodling random people around the office, as well as sketching out a variety of landscapes that took your fancy. Though the main subject was always Hongjoong. You had gotten quite good at picturing his facial features and depicting them even in a few lines, catching his micro expressions and shift in body language. There were also a couple of drawings you had done with him as a live model, though he was asleep and in the nude, so no one was ever going to know about that – you had stashed them away in a safe hidden behind the drawers of your desk. It only made sense that he was in most of your drawings: after all, he was the man who had bestowed upon you such unimaginable riches and a quality of life so drastically improved, that you had no choice but to worship him. He had made you who you were now. A shining diamond.

And this shining diamond was a little too bright for him to keep on focusing on the profit and loss analysis. After about ten minutes of frustrating silence, he dropped the papers onto the table in front of him and leaned to put his elbows on its edge. You had still not raised your eyes at him – something that you normally did nearly on instinct since you were so in tune with his gestures, which made Hongjoong inhale aggressively. His previously neutral expression had turned into a scowl as he raised an eyebrow and gave you a onceover. His precious doll was up to something.

“What are you doing?” though the question was simple, his voice was dangerously low. But you could not be threatened by a good time. You kept your eyes trained on the page as your hand moved methodically to hatching the shadows of his, as of not too long ago, brilliant blond locks, ones you adored to run your hands through whenever you had the chance. Which was a rare occurrence outside of the ‘bedroom’, but still.

“Just noting some things down, Mister Kim.” Though he had insisted that you call him Hongjoong when you two were alone, it had been a challenging transition to get used to. But at least it gave you ample opportunity for… discouraging him further. He liked for everything to run like a well-oiled machine, with his eyes reading a business strategy in anything and anyone. You had no doubt that that was how he was scrutinising you now. Equal parts assessing the attitude and doting on you.

He was a sweetheart treating his favourite toy. Talking competitive analysis and takeovers in the morning, and clinking glasses with you at an exclusive Michelin star restaurant in the evening. And to think that you were the only one, aside from his family, who got to see more than one side of him was an intriguing notion. Actually, scratch that. Certain things you were sure to be the only one taking care of. Take his nasty habit of overworking, which you had called out even if it was just you feeling bored: all work and no play made Hongjoong a dull boy, and thus, less likely to compensate for your presently aimless sitting around.

“By colouring the entire page? Not good to lie to me, you know that.” Of course. When it came to matters of business, for example, this man had ears everywhere, had infiltrated every other competitor and had become a spider in the corporate world. He would probably find out someone was cheating on their spouse sooner than the spouse themselves. When it came to you, however, he did not have your intricate neural network mapped out just yet. He could only fluff up his feathers and put on airs.

“It is only ink, Mister Kim. And surely the ink to paper ratio is not more than the balance sheet on page twenty seven.” You purposefully moved away from his interrogation, subliminally reprimanding him from stopping his concentration. The ghost of a smirk was gracing your lips, hidden by hair that had fallen to perfectly frame your delicate facial features. Hongjoong still had not corrected you on using his ‘work title’.

“I should ask you to start drawing the spreadsheets out by hand then.”

“Maybe next time, as a special treat. In the meantime, we have what we have and must settle for it.” A lot more standoffish than usual, you were brushing your boss off as you continued the sketch. He could not exactly reprimand you, however. You were right in the fact that his suggestion was nothing more than white noise.

“Settle for less, Y/N?” the question rang loudly in your ears and translated itself to a reminder to know your place fairly quickly. You could imagine Hongjoong’s raised eyebrow and playful grin. In addition to him hinting at your arrangements, he switched to calling out your first name. Promising.

There was a customary mention of money and class even when it was not the main topic of conversation. Really, it was what had brought you two together, or rather the stark difference between what you and him had, respectively. Hongjoong enjoyed having financial control over you and ended up dangling it above your head in the form of his not so subtle first-world conduct. You preferred to imagine that it was him wrapping you up in the softest, silkiest Chanel ribbon, like the one you had seen in adverts and on the packaging that, alone, could have probably provided you with enough food to last a week in your life before.

It was not that Hongjoong did not try to ‘stay humble’. Based on your observations, out of all his financial peers, company clients and members of the executive board, he was probably the least likely to boast about the figures that his numerous bank accounts contained. It was possible that when the strings of digits began to look more like a phone number, one grew more tranquil. Money spoke louder than words. But you knew how to make Hongjoong get vocal. Or so you thought.

“More is never enough.”

“Having more takes a lot of work and being on your best behaviour, Y/N.” he may not know all of your thoughts and reasoning but knew that you got extra charming when you became needy. Trying so hard to get his attention that you would invest all your efforts into it. It was only fair after how much he had invested in you.

The Tiffany & Co necklace on your neck that he traced with his gaze was nothing more than a collar, a leash tethering you to him. An Elsa Peretti piece, a golden snake which had cost Hongjoong just under thirty million Korean won, was perhaps the best way to symbolise the chokehold you were beginning to have on him. You were there in business, there in pleasure, and he was contemplating preventing you from taking holidays unless they somehow involved him. It would be easy – just block all of your cards and you would come crawling. He was greedy for your reactions. The way your lip would curl when he would put somebody back in their place during a conference or a meeting. How you enjoyed it when he praised you for completing the challenging, soul-draining tasks that never ceased to pile up – he had never failed to continue scrutinising you through the glass walls of his office as you excitedly returned to your desk, a soft smile always on your face. How you were completely at his mercy when he wanted to give you an extra special present. He loved how the jewellery he had gifted you or sponsored for you to buy rocked back and forth as he took his time to take you apart. Piece by piece. His priceless game.

Hongjoong smoothed his lapels and adjusted his cotton jacket that he had bought in the colour warm khaki, tightening the knot of the wrap belt. Smugly, he took note of how your pretty, made up lips parted. What were you imagining he was doing now? He was not going to care, at least not right away. He demonstratively picked up the reports again, flipping through the bounded pages on autopilot as, what he could only decipher to be a disappointed gasp, reached his ears. It was a relief that the paper hid his growing smirk. Mister Kim was work-mode Hongjoong, after all. What did you expect?

Ignored and rejected, so be it. You knew this interaction well enough to be able to count, down to the minute, when Hongjoong would crack, or you would crack and still come sauntering over. He liked to be needed – the main reason why he had agreed to become the heir to the corporation in the first place, more than you liked to be needy. But sometimes, you were a little too impatient for your own liking – probably a side effect of having been transferred to a silver spoon lifestyle after experiencing hardship after hardship. As such, the dynamic between you and Hongjoong was a constant battle. You could almost taste his pride as he inspected the figures you had compiled for him, a lazy hand moving to adjust the collar of his white turtleneck. Through fluttering eyelashes, you feasted on the dangerously handsome man, determining that he really did look astonishingly captivating in Balmain.

It was frustrating, this ongoing game that you two played and would not quit despite the effect that it very obviously had on all parties involved, but much like with the drugs that made the occasional special appearance in the closed VIP-only events, it was too addictive. Even now, you knew that you should not pay attention to Hongjoong, but your eyes were not obeying you in the slightest. Over the time you had come to intimately know this man, if there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that he had an aura. An enigmatic charm, a magnetism that was so subtle to anyone who you now had the ability and first world clarity of deeming 'average' was unlikely to detect. However, before you knew it, upon locking eyes with Hongjoong, listening to his dulcet tone that would turn to orchestrate the music in your mind, you began to fall hard and fast into the abyss that was his power and control, trapped and even if you wanted out, forgetting the words. Once you fell in, the only words that mattered were the ones that he deemed to be so, and they were so heavily contextual and dependent on his mood that, usually, you did not dare oppose it.

It was fascinating to you how time seemed to pass differently when there was a price associated with it. Be it Hongjoong's net worth or what he was wiring into your accounts, it did not matter. What mattered was the bills that bound you together like the lace of your lingerie, one which was growing tighter around your body by the second as you kept on openly devouring Hongjoong with each shameless gaze, the thoughts cropping up because of the ghost of a smirk that he was wearing only fanning the flame. He was illegal. In all senses. No man should have the right to have such an influence over you as he did, and yet here you were. Working the role of his personal toy, so dedicated that you were on the verge of begging for him to play with you. You needed him. As much as you hated to admit it, since you still did want to retain at least a tiny portion of independence, this man had given you more than what you could ever wish for. Riches, connections, diamonds, sex. And you could not get enough, happily driven to madness by the immense pleasure of being a capricious diva with infantile demands for all the world's sweetness. Or, as your brother had put it, perhaps out of a sick gratitude to you for helping him getting at least a part of his life back on track, before you blocked him for good, you were getting off on being a pampered, prissy sugar baby. Though you saw no issue with simply doing what you were good at, and you still completed your regular duties as a personal assistant. It was just that your 'personal' was a little different from the commonly accepted corporate average. And the business that you carried out in the after hours was not just classified – when you had been faced with the decision of whether to agree to enter such a relationship with Hongjoong or not, you had naively placed your life at stake. That was the level at which you had to operate. But the thrill that it gave you, more than justified it.

Your internal clock was ticking away like a time bomb as you grew more and more frustrated, while Hongjoong, in a manner not too far from that of a cat’s, gave a soft yawn and made himself more comfortable in his chair, spreading his legs further apart under his desk and leaning back to continue his reading. Deciding that he had enough of having to repeatedly push his glasses up, he decisively took them off, and slowly folded them together, holding one of the temple tips very lightly with his lips. In a graceful motion, Hongjoong set them down to his right, beside a couple of pens. You recalled speaking with the designer over the phone, ordering for them to be customised and getting shipped over from the US in record time, and while you were not exactly sure as to why they were so important, the key stakeholders in the company had raved about them on multiple occasions, much to your boss’s delight.

You could feel that he was well aware of your present sensations, and purposefully was not acting on them, just to see you squirm. This was only making you more fixated on getting his attention, which you tried to do by letting out another soft sigh, quickly realising that if you were to get anything out of him, you had to be more rash, and act on instinct. In other words, act out of line. Taking the moment he dived back into the report as an opportunity, you rose from the couch, and slipped out of your high heels while keeping your eyes trained on your boss. A barely noticeable twitch of the eyebrow and you were struggling to fight off a smirk, feeling every bit seductive even though it was most probably a vision of your own design. But a little confidence did not hurt.

This time, you did not make a sound as you slowly moved towards Hongjoong’s desk in a straight line, using your strength to keep your adrenaline-ruined breathing as level as physically possible, and your steps measured out as the plane rumbled beneath you. Head and body in the clouds. All because of the heavenly ruin who was paying no mind to how you rested the tips of your fingers on the edge of the desk, before lowering yourself onto your knees and dropping into a languid crawl. As you inched past his lacquered black boots, and soon found yourself right between his legs, you could see Hongjoong stiffen, but resist the urge of responding to your bold movements. This only played to your advantage, as you let your hands rest on his denim-clad thighs before snaking up to tug on his coat’s belt, loosening it until the material gave way and exposed the waistline of his jeans.

Even as you, with practiced, methodical motions, undid his jeans, he did not spare you as much as a pat on the top of your head, like he usually did when you were being his ‘good girl’. The only sign he gave of his awareness of you was the obviously hardening member that your hands purposefully grazed as you attempted to pull the denim a little further down to give you better access. When the jeans, or rather, their wearer, did not budge to allow you to take them off, you growled in annoyance and gave up trying to be gentle, instead wanting nothing more but attention, not from Mister Kim, not from your boss, but from Hongjoong. From Joongie. From your one and only daddy.

Said man was resisting every urge to yank you from under the desk and to punish you for being such a vixen, but it was clear to him that his disregard of your efforts might just be more painful – a realisation that did little to subdue his arousal. It made him acutely aware of your nimble hand finding the cut in his Armani briefs, and pulling out his erection, giving it a few pumps at the base with your fingers. The sudden caress had made him buck his hips forward, encouraging you to continue admiring his length and running your fingers up and down, not a single bit escaping your touch. He gripped the papers in his hands until they began to get crumpled at the edges, and eventually dropped them to lean back and get a view of the scene unfolding at his feet. All just to catch you as you licked your lips, revealing a thick coating of spit, moved towards his dick, and while keeping it steady with one hand, ran your wet tongue from the base to the very tip, parting with a lewd twirl over the head. Hongjoong bit back a hiss as he locked eyes with yours, half-lidded – you knew all his sensitivities, his pressure points and guilty pleasures, and that was infinitely dangerous for a man like him to share, it only made you more attractive. You had memorised him as if he was your assignment. Your most important test and duty. Never leaving your mind and driving you to insanity as you drifted from wave to wave of uncontrollable desire for him, and him alone. You were his. And you looked so pretty, a queen all made up and dressed in gorgeous rare pieces, kneeling before him and taking in his member between your soft lips. Deeper. Deeper, until he could feel your hot inner cheeks, the back of your tongue and how a rumble emanated from you as you hummed in satisfaction, the vibration forcing Hongjoong to tilt his head back and sigh.

You were greedy for Hongjoong, moving yourself at a slow pace to take in as much of him as you could, hands finding themselves clinging onto the legs of his jeans for support, and to allow you to try your best and continue devour him without his guidance. As you moved away for a couple of seconds to catch your breath, a salacious pop announcing the temporary loss of contact, you noticed a string of what you could only guess to be your saliva, mixed with his pre-cum hanging between his member and your progressively more swollen lips. Once again, you took the throbbing member in your hand and were about to resume its worship, when a strong grip of your hair, nails momentarily sinking into your scalp, alerted you and made your gaze shoot upwards. The sight made you cower, though the thrilling trepidation fuelled your yearning for the glowering man.

There was a demonic quality in how he stared down at you, every bit of the expression demeaning you and demanding your ruin. You knew you had overstepped by disobeying him and taking intimate matters into your own hands, but who could blame you when he was so breath-taking when wearing his favourite brand? When you lowered your eyes he tugged on your locks, sneering.

“Baby girl could not even wait until we landed, huh?” his dulcet tone dropped into a rough drawl as he could feel your breaths washing over the tip of his sensitive dick that was begging for you to finish what you had started.

“I couldn’t.” you purred, batting your eyelashes.

“And so, you resort to being naughty? Do you think that is the right thing to do, especially when I say that I am working, hm?” he was hooking the answers out of you, one of his eyebrows twitching in surprise as you did not respond immediately. He tightened his hold and made your head fall further back so that you were completely face to face, his member pressing against your cheek.

“It isn’t, daddy, but I couldn’t help myself. You just looked so pretty that I could not resist.”

“And I think you are being incredibly selfish, Y/N. Spinning these tales just so you can satisfy yourself.”

“No daddy, I want to make you feel good!” you insisted, a whine escaping you as you could feel your core beginning to grow warmer with the progressing conversation. Pressing your thighs tightly together, you relished at the friction, and bit your lower lip.

“Is that so?” he mused out loud, waiting for your to attempt to utter even a single word more.

“Yes Da-mmfph!” taking the chance, he pushed you right in, his member hitting the back of your throat, the impact making tears spring up. As you struggled against him, he held you in place and watched as you tried to adjust to him. Just as unexpectedly, he yanked you back, leaving your lips to kiss his tip, only to drag you down once more and thrust his hips once, twice against you until he could see the wetness in your eyes building until it was about to spill over.

“You said you wanted to make daddy feel good, yes?” he asked, lust clouding his brain as you mumbled utter nonsense, mouth pacified by the hard erection, “then do exactly as I say, baby girl.”

This was exactly what you missed. Hongjoong coaxing every unholy state out of you, sin setting you ablaze as you began to fail in registering the nuances of this demeanour, tears that were on the verge of rolling down your cheeks blurring your vision. This was how you pinched yourself for grounding, to assure that the lifestyle you had, the gifts which you had been bestowed with were all real and all yours. You did not search for forgiveness when the forbidden fruit was so damn sweet. So, you let yourself be used like an expensive escort by him, comforted by the thought that even though he could definitely afford having anyone else, he had selected you. And let you stick by him for almost two years. A true sweetheart who knew how to treat his girl right. You moaned into the pressure as the low grunts you elicited from Hongjoong let to the climbing of heat in your core. With the abuse of your throat becoming a rhythmic orchestration, you grew brave enough to improvise, and hollowed out your cheeks.

"Ah... fuck, baby girl..." the airy proclamation escaped him as your teeth just barely grazed his member, and he could feel his high building at an accelerated pace. He resisted your bobbing to catch a few seconds' break by pressing you to his hips, barely giving you a chance to breathe. But he knew you would take it. You always did.

Hongjoong's ragged breathing was sending you into overdrive, and you shut your eyes to allow yourself to focus on the lewd music. Barely audible over the jet engines, the loss of control was his primary expression of gratitude. The illusion that he was not, in certain senses, under your heel rapidly evaporated when the adrenaline shot him through the heart, and his frontal lobe shut down to give up the reins to carnal pleasure. Once the barriers disappeared, his one desire and need were clear. You. The one thing in his life that he would never be able to truly own, and as you unwounded him, he comprehended with an unprecedented lucidity. That was why, as you sensed his hold on you loosen and his orgasm inching closer than ever, and were about to give him the sweet release, Hongjoong snapped back to consciousness and nearly ripped you away from himself, your head barely missing the drawers under the desk.

With flushed cheeks and an adorable, innocent pout, you looked up at him, dribble accumulated at the corners of your mouth. He fell for this face every time. Your glistening eyes studying him as you appeared disappointed that you could not get daddy to cum, afraid that you made him mad. That you did something wrong. Oh, how far from the truth this was. Even though you had acted selfishly, and approached him on your own accord, nothing about you could be anything less than right. Right just for him. It was as if the heavens themselves had moulded you to fit him like a glove. Body and soul. And he will be a fool if he did not indulge in that every opportunity he had.

Taking both your hands in his, Hongjoong helped you up from under his desk, careful to not damage your dress - not that he cared for the price, but it was not particularly enjoyable contemplating the conversation you might have to have with dry cleaning. Or with the designers. Again. It was troublesome striking deals with strangers to keep their mouths shut. He rolled back on his chair, taking in your trembling form. Holding your legs together you were fighting your ache for stimulation, knowing full well that your panties were already ruined with your slick and were only serving as a fabric made for rubbing your sensitive clit. Every breath, every sigh from Hongjoong as he took off his jacket and carefully hanged it on the back of his chair, then fully undid his jeans and pushed down his underwear, was a reason for you to start begging. Couldn't he see how anxious for touch his little toy was? Evidently not, for Hongjoong took his sweet time with removing your dress, every button like a special prize that he wanted to cherish, while you were growing hazy as he peppered kiss after kiss with every new inch of exposed skin, crouching down to let the sensation build lower, feeding the knot in your stomach. His pecks stopped just about when he reached your navel and with a lazy smile on his face, he stood up to gaze into your soul with an unbelievable intensity. Hands running up your body, Hongjoong slid the magnificent article off you, hastily draping it over one of the chair's arm rests and not once glancing away from his favourite sight, a sultry oasis, within reach, and so beautifully hungry for him. He stopped your arms from resting on his sweater, muttering that you would mar it with your lusty filth, and rushed to take it off and throw it behind him. Then, there was no barrier for him anymore, and in one motion, his pelvis was against yours, member resting against your black lace-clad heat, and hands kneading your ass, moving closer and closer until they began to toy with the g-string the action turning to torture as he purposefully made the material dig into your pussy, enjoying how you threw your head back and bit back a groan.

"Please daddy, I need you..." you whispered as he increased the friction and proceeded to move his dick in and out between your full, closed thighs, teasing your erect nub until you writhed to seek even more proximity. This, however, earned you a sharp smack on your ass, the lack of anticipation making it sting. Hongjoong did not give you time to recover as he let the pins and needles work their magic and elevate your reception of his steady thrusts. You tried to grab onto him, the table, anything, but as soon as your fingers touched Hongjoong's chest, another hit echoed in your ears, eliciting a frustrated moan.

"You want to... make... daddy really happy and cum... right?" He panted, his nails digging into your flesh so violently that you could not help but wonder if Hongjoong was going to draw blood, but that brief musing only elevated your pleasure. “Then, you are going to be my pretty little fuck doll… understood?” there was only one right answer to the question, and you were not about to get on Hongjoong’s bad side by being a brat. You were too fazed to put up a fight, and merely mumbled a soundless:

“Yes… daddy…”

Hongjoong leaned closer to you, until his forehead was almost touching yours, and moved to wipe some of the lipstick and remnants of his precum from your lips with his thumb, while his other hand hooked the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down to reveal your wet core. You wriggled to let them fall and kicked them away with an impatient foot, earning a chuckle.

“So eager, baby girl… I almost want to forgive you for not listening to me. I just said you are to be a doll,” he peered into your eyes, his breath hot on your mouth as he ran his fingers between your folds, covering them in your slick. It was adorable how you tried your best to keep up appearances even now, even when you had signed yourself away to be what effectively was his servant. You trembled as the cool metal of the ring on his index finger hit your clit, and exhaled shallowly as he played with you, “and dolls don’t move, do they? Can you do that?”

As he asked, his fingers curled into your pussy, while a thumb traced rhythmic circles over the nub, the sensation electric, building your high. The lasciviousness flashing in your pupils as your eyes rolled back was a cry to Hongjoong’s darkness. Hands suspended in mid-air, you did not dare act out nor attempt to navigate the intimate act, submitting to your boss, your daddy. Letting him take care of you. As he sped up, watching your face contort as you battled the approaching climax, Hongjoong found you endearing, the corners of his mouth twitching as a soft, radiant smile surfaced. He could never stay cruel with you for too long. He was giving you more than you could ask for, and yet, he still wanted to give you more. Everything would not be enough.

“Oh, my baby girl, are you close?” he inquired, cooing as your breathing quickened in response to his accelerated pumps into your wetness, wild from the addictive sound it produced. “Fine, you can hold onto me, Y/N, daddy will take care of you,” you did not need to be told twice, falling into him as your orgasm was imminent, “doing so well for me, baby girl…” he whispered into your ear, kissing the lobe and pulling you into an embrace as he felt your high wash over you, your sex pulsing around him and muscles contracting uncontrollably. Brushing your hair back, petting it a couple of times before settling on having a hand rest between your shoulder blades, he praised you. But did not stop. Greed went both ways.

Your prior filters completely broken, you moaned and whined as you kept on unravelling, Hongjoong’s fingers abusing your overstimulated cunt. With his toned body, and your ass pressed against the edge of the desk serving as your only support, you draped your arms over his shoulders and wrapped yourself around his neck, rationality leaving with every tremor. As you could feel another scalding fire building in your abdomen, just before the release Hongjoong removed his hand and instead took to gliding his dick against your pussy lips. With the sensation being too much, you yelped and sank into an orgasm, sweet nectar dripping onto, and coating his cock.

“Such a good girl for me, well done… Come on my dick baby girl.”

You were not sure when, due to the fog that enveloped your fucked out mind, but Hongjoong had made you lie on your back on his wooden desk, surrounded by the financial reports he could not be bothered to clear. He wanted you now, and that meant no pauses. Without as much as a warning, the blonde gave you one final teasing flick with his tip before bottoming out, the fullness making you gasp. Your walls were still clenching around him from your climax, which made Hongjoong growl as he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, spreading your legs further apart.

“So perfect for me, Y/N… only mine…”

He mercilessly pounded into you, chasing his own high while you were seeing stars. When you were like this, under him, hair cascading onto and off the mahogany, knuckles turning white as your grasped onto the desk as he thrusted, you were the closest thing to heaven that he could believe in. In a world that was drenched in materialistic attraction, sabotage in the name of another stack, and human lives turning into corporate statistics to improve key performance indicators, this was an ethereal madness that unlocked a primal bliss, untainted by present crises. The sweetest distraction, you took him so well that he liked to pretend that you had been made just for this. Just to become his possession. His gorgeous doll.

With you, Hongjoong had begun to see purpose in his riches, being able to play dress up with you, making the office a private cat walk as you strutted in the latest collections and custom made pieces. Gucci, Versace, Prada… it did not matter to him so long as you were wearing it with the intentions of impressing him, seducing him, and only him. He was fully aware that, technically, you could be dating someone else alongside your so-called partnership with Hongjoong. As a sugar baby you could even have another ‘sponsor’ out there somewhere. Another person to make you cum, to provide you with a sensual paradise. But the notion sent him into an inexplicable rage as soon as he entertained it, and as such, he preferred to isolate visions of you from the rest of the world. In turn, this manifested itself into his real life attempts to do the same. Longer hours spent after work, an unspoken rule that the assistant should not leave until the boss does. Michelin star restaurants and exclusive rooftop bars to lure you into being in his company. And of course, sex. Or making love. However, one wished to call it when the lines began to get blurry. But Hongjoong could not care less. You made him comfortable. You were his, you had to be, otherwise what did the two years mean?

Skin against skin, breath joining breath, sight clouding, going dark. Hongjoong rolled his hips, and lowered himself to a stance where he was hovering directly above you, his piercing gaze not once leaving you. Getting drunk off every moan and gasp that he was the cause of, he relished in the feeling of your pussy taking him so well, the orgasm that he had not allowed you to ride out still making your walls clench repeatedly around his dick, pleading for his intimate, salacious demise. His thrusts got deeper as he slowed the pace, progressively losing his senses to the speeding high.

“Mm… baby girl you are… fucking priceless…” he uttered, words broken apart by each time he bottomed out in you, his balls pressing against your wetness as you could only let out a series of mewls in response, thoughts unintelligible as the repeated hits to your g-spot brought you closer and closer to total destruction.

“Daddy… please, I’m-”

“Going to cum?” he finished your sentence as your try at speaking was interrupted by a wave of pleasure, mixing with the tension from before and making the tears spring up once again. You were a wreck, impaled by Hongjoong’s member as he returned to standing up in front of the desk, thrusts rapid, sharp and finally making a droplet roll down from the corner of your eye. You yelped:

“Hongjoong… ah this is…”

“Is it too much baby girl?” he asked, without any intention to stop as he could sense himself faltering at keeping up the act for any longer. His own climax was within reach, and he was not one to deny himself any pleasures.

“No, daddy, feels…. So ah… yes…” you mumbled, at least you thought you did, but could not confirm for certain.

“Pretty girl crying for me… so cute.” Praises spilled out of him as he groaned into the tightness, and, unsteady, removed himself from your cunt, letting out a low moan as rivulets of cum shoot out from his cock and onto your stomach.

The viscous white fluid decorating you was more than what he could ever hope for. The final marking that you were his to use, you were there to serve him, and he would never get enough. A light shake in his thighs forced him to seek balance in having a hand on either side of you, while his pulsing dick rubbed against your inner thigh.

“So pretty, Y/N. Just for me.” He stated, more to himself, and lowered himself further to give you a soft peck on the lips, which quickly deepened as you responded with an elated sigh. In these moments, you wondered if it was money that you were doing this for.

As he moved away, and with practiced motions began to clean you up with some tissues which you had in your bag, you regained full ability of inhale… count… exhale, and in the clarity, drifted to a post-coital contemplation. Hongjoong knew how to make you do what he wanted you to do. But did he know you? Could he confidently paint the portrait of your desires beyond financial and sexual gain? A man made of sugar, with an alluring physique and a kindness which he showed only to you, but should he be your only one? This thought had been plaguing you ever since last month. An unexpected, shattering appearance of a business card, that was now hidden behind a card you rarely used in your wallet, with gold embossed lettering and an otherwise minimalist design. Tasteful, exclusive, expensive. When you checked the names of those attending the meet on the island, the object had grown considerably heavier, weighing onto your consciousness. Discreetly given to you amidst a kiss of the hand and the reception of a smouldering gaze, it served a similar purpose to a number at an auction. The person whose name the card bore had announced himself as a bidder for your attention and services, a bidder astronomically higher than Kim Hongjoong, at that. It was tempting. Very tempting. And you knew that the conversation would occur at some point during your stay, seeing as even in the business setting, the man would undoubtedly be sat across from you, and would stare you down, right to the avarice festering in your heart wrapped up in designer. But you were caught in a dilemma.

Your eyes travelled back to the graceful form tending to you, forgetting about himself, at least until his baby girl was well cared for. A sweet angel, his face finally rid of tenseness and agitation as his entire focus was on your body, on you. The one who, unknowingly to himself, had shown you unprecedented vulnerability and, endearingly, trusted you much more than he ever should have. A man who walked on people and money, yet wanted a woman who could play with his heart.

It was not that simple anymore, was it? After so many doses, could you give this up? Give up and betray Hongjoong in search for a stronger hit?

What was it that you were truly greedy for?

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f4iry-bell · 9 months ago

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Grayson x reader argument angst/comfort

dates and bags

this was supposed to be in my current series but I've decided to stop it and so it's here!! idk if it'll come under comfort tho because it's just vvv little confort but YEAH!!!!!

It has been exactly a month since things started becoming a bit serious with Grayson and her. A month of pure contentment. But it didn't last long, it was like someone was praying for them to seperated because Grayson started being distant. Everyday phone calls became text messages, text messages became one word reply or being left on read. Weekly dates or just them going out together became rare. He barely answered her calls, he'd text her ‘im bust’ after ignoring her calls. At first she believed that he was actually busy with work, after all he had his own life. But how long can one stay busy? Probably Grayson Hawthorne but this time Grayson Hawthorne has a girlfriend or whatever they are right now. A serious commitment.

It took her three phone calls and use of imperative sentences to convince him to meet her at a cafe they used to meet. Neither of them spoke much once Grayson arrived at the cafe late.

“So, how are you doing?” She asked him with a bland tone.

“Fine” He replied with an aloof tone.

“Are you sure?” She asked with her eyebrows raised.

“Yes.”

“Then why have you been acting like an asshole to me all week?” She snapped.

Grayson was taken aback by her snapping. But he kept his cool. “No need of vulgar language to resolve whatever silly reason you're mad at me for”

“Silly reason?” She scoffed.

“I don't think I have done anything for you to be this mad” He said.

“You've been distancing yourself from me and ghosting me for a week!” She tried hard not to yell.

“I told you, I have been busy. Plus, I do answer your texts.”

“No, you don't. You say ‘ok’, ‘i'll text you later’, ‘i’m busy’. You don't answer me.” She cleared it for him.

“I thought you'd understand that I'm a busy man, I don't have time for you all day”

“But you did when we met! If not all day, you had time for me for at least an hour. Now you can't even spare me a minute” She breaks down, the anger now turning into hurt.

Instead of giving her a reason, a real reason. Grayson tried to leave. “Look, I don't have time for this. I'll talk to you later,”he said.

“Screw this. Don't bother. If you even bother enough to think about me.” She stood up, grabbing her bag and taking out a bill to pay. “I'm out of this. I'm done”

“What do you mean?” He asked as he watched her move out of their table.

“You know what I mean.” With that the one romantic relationship that worked out well for Grayson ended.

She tried not to think about Grayson and how he used to treat her, she tried not to care at all so she wouldn't be hurt. But she failed every time. It has been exactly four days since she called it off and blocked his number, not that she was expecting him to call or text. At 1 in the morning someone knocked on her apartment door. She walked out of bed and started to think whether or not to answer the door, it's 1 am, who could it be?

Sighing she opened the door just 3 inches to see who it was while holding a broomstick behind her. She was surprised and angry to see who it was.

“Grayson?”

He smiled. “Hello, love” She can smell the alcohol in his breath.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, and she noticed he was still holding a flask. How much did he drink?

“I missed you” He looked at her how he used to.

“Well keep missing me, cause I'm not talking to you. Go back to your place” She said and was about to slam the door but stopped when he gagged like was going to puke.

“Sorry about that. Anyways, you look so beautiful,” he commented with a cheeky smile. Her anger only grew.

“Did you drive here?” She asked and he nodded. “Are you stupid? Driving while you're this drunk?” She asked, followed by an annoyed scoff.

She shook her head and asked him to book a cab and go back to his place again, when he tried to get closer to her he almost lost his balance.

“You're so frustrating.” She said and grabbed his arm to help him inside her apartment, she helped him to sit on the couch and went to grab a glass of water for him. When she came back he was drinking from the flask again, she snatched it from his hand and handed him the glass. “Drink this”

“Thank you” He drank it. “Shouldn't you be mad at me?” He asked.

“I am.”

“Then why are you offering me water?”

“So you can sober up and leave”

“Wrong. Because you're nice,” he said. “Too nice. Too pretty, too adoring, too passing, too considerate” He kept going.

“All that and yet—” Grayson cut her off mid sentence by talking.

“I told my brothers about you” He said. “And what happened”

“What did they say?” She tried not to think that Grayson told his brothers because he thought he messed up.

“They called me an idiot” He smiled.

“You are”

“I know. They also said you deserve an explanation. I guess that's why I'm here”

“Go on, explain”

“Like I said, you're just too good. Too good for me, I don't deserve you but I decided to be selfish when I asked you out. But I started to panic because I was getting attached to you, I thought this would just be a fling but it was becoming so much bigger. It wasn't supposed to be like that for me, I can't stay selfish for a very long time. If you know my family history you'd hate me.” He explained.

“You think you don't deserve me? Grayson, I'm not special. And that is no excuse to distance yourself from me. Do you know how much you've hurt me? And I don't care about your family history, I liked you for you. You as an individual.”

“You liked me? You don't like me now? I understand. It was a false hope for thinking you'd still like me, I did act like an asshole to you” He let out a fake chuckle.

She thought for a moment before speaking. “I still like you, you know. You can't dislike someone just like that, especially someone like you.” She said.

Grayson blinked “You do?”

She nods.

“Does that mean you'd be willing to forgive me? My brothers said I should at least try and ask you for another chance” He asked.

She rolled her eyes. “First of all you didn't apologise yet.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For pushing you away because I hate myself and can't allow myself to have nice things”

She sighs. “It's gonna take a lot more than a drunken apology.”

“So you'd be willing to try?” He asked with a hopeful smile.

She shrugged. “Now come on, let's get you to bed.” She said and took his hand, and laid him on her bed. “And don't you dare puke on my sheets” She warns.

He moved to the corner giving her some space, she climbed next to him and he wrapped his arms around her. “Is this okay?” He asked.

“It's fine.” She said, totally not bothered by his touch.

After five minutes of silence she spoke. “You know, you deserve to be loved. I don't why you think you don't, but you're a nice person, Grayson. And if you let me, I might fall in love with you”

“Thank you for saying that. Also, take back what you said earlier.” He said.

“What?”

“When you said you're not special. Because you are, to me.”

She turned to his side. “Don't sweet talk me. You owe me multiple dates before I officially forgive you”

“Just dates?”

“And a bag, maybe.”

“Dates and bag it is then”

She smiled. “You're really good at pushing people. But this better be the last time. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am”

#grayson hawthorne #the inheritance games #the brothers hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #nash hawthorne #the hawthorne brothers #avery grambs #the grandest game #grayson hawthorne x reader

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burningarsenic · 5 months ago

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Okay but i adore the way the website continues Bill and Stan parallels but finally leads them out of conspiracy theory territory.

I love the fact that Bill got attached to Ford because Ford essentially represents all the best parts of himself. He's smart, self-sufficient. He's incredibly talented at so many things. And he's trusting, which made Bill feel a genuine connection

But then Stan is everything Bill hates about himself, everything he's trying to run from and hide behind his delusion of grandeur. The fact that Axolotl's poem can be so closely related to Stan is proof of it. But unlike Bill, Stan is a genuine , loving person. He finds a place in life not through spite or hatred, but through love of his family and it drives Bill mad.

I love the website so much.

!! I HAVE NOT YET READ BOOK OF BILL DON'T SPOIL ME PLEASE EVEN IF IM LIKE. DEATHLY WRONG !!

#bill cipher #stanley pines #gravity falls #website spoilers #kinda

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tigerdrop · 4 months ago

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Got any fun thoughts to share about Ford and Bill?

they drive me crazy dude. i have a lot to say about them so im putting it under a readmore

ive been billpilled for 1 million years dog. hes like the Blueprint. bills the perfect entity to me: terrifying shapeshifting demon who can slip into every corner of your mind and read all your thoughts and memories. and also hes a cartoon character with noodle arms and a cute shape. and hes a pathetic worm whos hung up on his human ex. and hes a funny little guy whos playful and mean and delights in tormenting you but juuuust enough so that he doesnt break you. Hes so awesome

like. listen. this isnt going to be a surprise if youve read literally anything ive ever written. but if bill possessed ford and slammed his hand in a car door and got a kick out of it and put him in a funny little outfit id be fine about it. ford was literally in a 24/7 freeuse lifestyle with him so why WOULDNT he

yeah im kind of a masochist. Why do u ask

put his ass in a horny neurotic guys body and see what happens. hit his dick with a cartoon mallet for fun. slap him around a little. feels cool and neat! like "human bodies are so responsive, huh" said while blanfords about to jam a fork into an outlet (thats my name for it btw. Im not looking it up)

what if i hurt you?? what if i dropped you??? Just kidding :-)

i dont know how much genuine sexual pleasure bill would get out of it so much as the thrill and novelty of a new human sensation but i think that could be fun in and of itself. jacking off with another guys body in a weirdly distant way like Haha Wow. Im getting kind of flustered here! (actively jamming a coke bottle into his pussy)

and the thing that really drives me crazy about ford is how much fetish shit he thinks about/makes inventions for/has inflicted upon him. i think in the series finale hes tied up like 3 fucking times. its insane. he wants to give up control of his body so fucking bad dude!!!!! (exhibit A: ford going limp like a kitten whenever hes picked up. it happens more than once.)

and theres even more contrived bondage bits in the deleted scenes! its maddening. hes an insane obsessive bdsm-lifestyling pervert and hes likethe ideal guy to match bills freak

hes soooo fucking easy. its so much fun to me. theres something really erotic about the way bill makes him feel special about his hands......like.......its naked flattery but its also kinda true. its weird. he likes weird shit. and ford falls for it soooo easy. drives me nuts

now walk with me. think about how easy that same interaction would transfer to ford being transgender. and your not allowed to get mad at me bc this is just my thing now

its so strange! kind of captivating. bills been around the block but the western conception of transmasculinity is so recent that for him it might as well be a blink of the eye. so i think it would be new to him. especially given when he actually makes a deal with ford. just another special thing about his special little guy. he *knew* there was something about ford

and to be frank i think that if you were a transmasc pervert in the 70s and a dream demon came along that understood you inside and out and can make all of your bizarre fantasies come true. well. you would have been fucking stupid not to fuck him

i need to read the book of bill so fucking bad bc the extra context of bill being super hung up on ford drives me CRAZY!!!! i love bitter lovestruck jerks. i love divorce. and i think they could and should hook up again. bad guys that are reluctantly forced to stop being so bad are so much fun and fords huge fucking ego didnt go anywhere. i think bill could convince ford to give him a second chance. at least just to hook up for old times sake

anyway. im making a bill itabag. Gotta go

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 2 months ago

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The movement to ban Republicans from using public bathrooms is launched. : [Thanks Robert Scott Horton]

* * * *

[from Anne Lamott]

I have located my pink pussy cap but am not yet ready to put it back on. These things take time. A whole week passed after the election before I could turn on CNN. My personal husband has a tool he promotes The Things I Do Every Day, and once again, I wrote out my list: Prayer, chores, meditation, my animals, friendship, walks, a little writing, a nap in the late afternoon,

Also, I live by Auden’s advice: Trust in God, take short views, and read the New Yorker. (I am sure he meant to include People magazine, and Us.)

When I feel most like a walking personality disorder, I go to meetings of other people who have somehow, miraculously gotten and stayed sober, and other meetings for people with tiny control issues and the disease of good ideas for other people, usually family, and one other group of people like me who have eaten entire carrot cakes in their car in parking lots.

(I am addicted to almost everything, except gambling, although I do get a thrill loading dollar bills into change machines, when the quarters drop down, often getting more change than I need.) (It’s really sad.)

I also go to church every Sunday and five days after the election, I drove to the east Bay with my friend Teri. The sermon, projected on the screen behind the pulpit, was called You Must Have Forgotten Who You Are.

And I had. I’m a news junkie who couldn’t look at the news, someone for whom reading has been the great love of my life, who couldn’t read the papers or Twitter or get lost in a book. Someone who rises up in protest against war and political madness. An agitated, self-righteous woman of peace and love.

But I noticed a few things,

I noticed that I was not alone. I was with a dear if cranky friend, the single most Jewish and lesbianic person I’ve ever know, with whom I ride to church every Sunday. Our shoulders were touching.

And I was in what Martin Luther King called the beloved community, a rich, gathering of people who were singing their pain, and their gratitude and faith, their hopes, focused not on their grieving, terrified selves but on the sweet, sweet shepherd of their lives, and other people’s hurts.

I started remembering who I was, not in my head but in those connections— a dear friend, my community, and the sacred. I could breathe again in a way that I hadn’t since November 6h. This little church starts the service with Sacred Breath from the pulpit, where we all close our eyes and breathe in holiness, as one. Of course, I’m sitting there going, Breathe in God’s love—my butt itches, I wonder if I left the back door open and the kitty got out, and the coyotes ate her—deep breath out—I’m so happy to be there, that woman should wash her hair more, my butt still itches. But when all else fails, follow instructions, right? So I breathed.

In her sermon, the minister made a passing reference to Jesus’s admonition that when injured, we turn the other cheek. Some theologians think that turning the other cheek is actually an act of civil disobedience- a protest, of sorts, standing firm in what we believe in—to do what is right, which in the end always means love. This is so subversive, to take injury and say, You don’t decide who I am.

But when does the resistance to the rising tide of Christian Nationalism begin? My darling friend, the writer Douglas Foster had texted me that morning: “It already has. Pro immigrant organizations burgeoning in every city. Big philanthropic moves to clothe, feed and house people. Lots of examples of new public housing and mental health provisions seeking to scale up, support groups for women, and families with trans kids who will need help getting to places where their health care needs will be met. You, me, a bunch of others.”

After church, Teri and I always eat sandwiches as we drive home, the sacrament of peanut butter and jelly, possibly my favorite food, the sacred elements of dark bread, creaminess, sweetness. We unwrapped our sandwiches, tapped each other’s food in a toast, no pun intended. Cheers. And it was good.

Anne Lamott

#Anne Lamott #words and writing #humor #commentary #election 2024 #Christian Nationalism #you me a bunch of others

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j4m3s-b4k3r · 6 months ago

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CREEPY Steve

2024 is the 50th anniversary of Stephen King’s first published novel, CARRIE. The story of a bullied telekinetic teen, who gets blood-soaked payback at her prom. Since then, he's written 65 novels, 200 short stories, and 5 nonfiction books. A freakish feat, almost worthy of one of his supernatural characters.

King’s first published story was when he was 19 years old. He continued selling short stories after graduating from the University of Maine, and while teaching English at a public high school, all later collected in NIGHT SHIFT. He's averaged more than a book a year since 1974. Many of his novels were initially released under a pseudonym, lest their sheer number dilute his ‘brand’. I became aware of King via the early movie adaptations of his books. CARRIE, THE SHINING, and THE DEAD ZONE. A great introduction, as those early films were all good, whereas most adaptations of his work are terrible, sadly.

During one of the Halloweens in the covid era, Julia & I got into a CREEPY STEVE frame of mind. Watching the better film adaptations, and listening to audiobooks. Those narrated by Will Patton were faves, as he really brings the characters to life. The Bill Hodges trilogy - Mr MERCEDES, FINDERS KEEPERS and END OF WATCH - were all marvellous, and introduced the wonderful character Holly Gibney. Who then appeared in further stories of her own.

There are 10 Stephen King short story collections, and all that I’ve read contain several gems. JUST AFTER SUNSET has the terrifying (yet somehow hilarious) tale of a man trapped and left for dead in a capsized porta-potty. DIFFERENT SEASONS contains the stories that inspired THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION and STAND BY ME. Donald Sutherland starred in a great film entitled Mr HARRIGAN’S PHONE, taken from IF IT BLEEDS. Which also contains another great Holly Gibney story.

ON WRITING: A MEMOIR OF THE CRAFT, is an engaging book, narrated by the author himself. Part memoir and part how-to instructional. Reminding me of William Goldman’s ADVENTURES IN THE SCREEN TRADE, in that it can’t truly deliver the secrets to making the magic that it promises, but serves up entertaining & revealing autobiographical anecdotes instead.

We are now used to seeing vampires in contemporary settings, so some of the 1970s impact of SALEM’S LOT has been lost. But both the book and its movie adaptation have many indelible images. Such as a vampire child hovering at the window.. (an inspiration for John Ajvide Lindqvist perhaps?)

After listening to book after book of King’s, and loving their brilliantly observed characters, and wonderful dialog, DARK TOWER was conspicuous for not having the elements that are normally intriguing in his books. Maybe I’ll give this series another shot someday, as friends swear it gets better.

We read THE SHINING and its sequel, DOCTOR SLEEP, watching & enjoying both movie adaptations. King apparently despises Kubrick’s version of THE SHINING - "The book is hot, and the movie is cold; the book ends in fire, and the movie in ice. In the book, there's an actual arc where you see this guy, Jack Torrance, trying to be good, and little by little he moves over to this place where he's crazy. And as far as I was concerned, when I saw the movie, Jack was crazy from the first scene.”

After reading the book, I understand King’s critiques, and agree with his second point. Jack Nicholson seems already about detonate on his drive to the hotel. Whereas King’s Jack was driven to madness by the malignant spirits within it. However, Kubrick’s film is so indelibly stamped into my mind, that I cannot unsee it. Nor unlike it neither (sorry, Stephen).

“Plot is, I think, the good writer’s last resort and the dullard’s first choice. The story which results from it is apt to feel artificial and labored.” - Stephen King.

I work in storytelling too, but in my biz it’s the dullard’s choice all the way - everything plotted & discussed, ad infinitum. King apparently starts with the merest idea, then writes straight ahead, surprising himself as he goes. A magician pulling a string of goodies out of his own head. At his best, this approach produces stories that feel naturalistic, with surprising twists and turns.

At his worst, it can be rambling, meandering and self indulgent. Especially when he struggled with addiction. Apparently, King was so out of control in the late 1980s, that he was confronted by an intervention after finishing the TOMMYKNOCKERS manuscript. A pity then that the editor wasn’t given more latitude in tidying up that waffling mess before it went to print..

Stephen himself agrees - “I mean, The Tommyknockers is an awful book. That was the last one I wrote before I cleaned up my act. And I’ve thought about it a lot lately and said to myself, “There’s really a good book in here, underneath all the sort of spurious energy that cocaine provides, and I ought to go back.” The book is about 700 pages long, and I’m thinking, “There’s probably a good 350-page novel in there.”

We enjoyed the screen adaptations of IT, CHRISTINE, 1922, THE MIST, and 11.22.63. After soaking in worlds King has created, on page & screen, it became clear that the recent NETFLIX hit, STRANGER THINGS, is merely glorified Stephen King fan fiction. By the end of the pandemic, we’d chewed through many stories, yet only a mere fraction of The King Catalog.

King is thought of as a master of the paranormal, but his real genius is for the everyday. Some of my favourites King stories are his straight crime fiction, or stories about real life. Even his famous horror stories are grounded by settings in relatable blue collar situations.. The writer Peter Straub even compared King to Dickens: “Both are novelists of vast popularity and enormous bibliographies, both are beloved writers with a pronounced taste for the morbid and grotesque, both display a deep interest in the underclass."

How does a man who’s been a millionaire for decades, with a very recognisable face, keep an ear for dialog patterns of common folk? Does he wear a disguise, and lurk in truck stops, diners, dive bars, and greyhound bus stations, taking notes?

“He's one of the first people to talk about real Americans and how they live, to capture real American dialogue in all its, like, foulmouthed grandeur... He has a deadly ear for the way people speak... …Surface-wise, King's work is a bit televisual, but there's really a lot going on." - David Foster Wallace

Lately, we’ve embarked on yet another quest to chip away at the KING oeuvre. Having already fallen in love with Bill Hodges & Holly Gibney, it was fun to watch the Mr MERCEDES TV series. Even though the filmmakers took liberties with the characterisations. Rather than the shy, smoking, middle aged, OCD woman of the novels, the TV Holly is a perky & cute 30 something. An autistic variation on the manic pixie dream girl trope. (sigh..)

Taken from a short story collection entitled EVERYTHING’S EVENTUAL, the gripping movie 1408, starring John Cusack & Samuel L. Jackson, is the creepy story of a skeptical paranormal investigator, whose cynicism is challenged by spending a harrowing night in an actual haunted hotel room.

In THINNER a selfish fat lawyer is cursed into anorexia by a gypsy. Entertaining, in 'the guy deserves everything he gets' manner of a parable from the Twighlight Zone. It seems to have inspired Sam Raimi's DRAG ME TO HELL.

GERALD’S GAME seemed like a story written on a bet, or an author’s exercise - “write a novel where the protagonist never leaves their bed for most of the story.” To me it felt like it might have worked better as a short story. When King fails (for me, anyway) it's when there hasn't been enough editing.

King has apparently said that PET SEMATARY was his book that scared him the most, and it is extremely creepy, but for me, MISERY was even more terrifying. I'd already seen the film, and Kathy Bates’ Oscar winning performance, but the book is even scarier somehow. There’s nothing paranormal about this story. There is utter horror, but it is the worst kind that there is - the twists & turns of the human mind.

Despite, or perhaps because of, King’s great popularity, literary critics long damned him with faint praise. In 2003, when he received the National Book Foundation’s ‘Medal of Distinguished Contribution to American Letters’, some became openly hostile:

"The decision to give the National Book Foundation's annual award for "distinguished contribution" to Stephen King is extraordinary, another low in the shocking process of dumbing down our cultural life… ..What he is is an immensely inadequate writer on a sentence-by-sentence, paragraph-by-paragraph, book-by-book basis." - Harold Bloom

Bloom is dead, so King gets the last word - “A lot of today's reviewers grew up reading my fiction. Most of the old critics who panned anything I wrote are either dead or retired".

In 1999, Stephen King was flattened by a vehicle while walking along a highway - "After the accident, I was totally incapable of writing. At first it was as if I'd never done this in my life. ...It was like starting over again from square one." As someone who was been flattened too (but in a very different way) one of the many inspiring things about King is how he recovered from that terrible accident, to do some of his very best work.

CREEPY STEVE is a one-man multimedia idea engine, keeping the publishing & Hollywood machines running. We are still enjoying poring through the King library (listening to THE INSTITUTE now) so if any of you have further recommendations, please let me know in the comments!

#essay #stephen king #illustration #The Shining #pet sematary #salems lot #supernatural horror #horror movies #horror fiction #holly gibney

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hannahwatcheshorror · 3 months ago

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GERALD'S GAME (2017)

💁‍♀️Strong Female Lead

I won’t lie, this movie is a heavy one, the subject matter is tough, but if you are able to handle it this is a phenomenal film. I don’t know how Stephen King can write so well for women, but he slips into the role like Buffalo Bill into a suit made of women's skin. This movie is very true to the book, not making the mistakes of other King movies that deviate greatly from his writing and try for a new way of thinking. Gorgeous scenes of the eclipse that flood your senses as they would have Jessie’s. Really an excellent film.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

(Trigger Warning Sexual Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse)

To try and fix their marriage Jessie is handcuffed to the bed in their remote vacation home but the thing is, ladies, gentlemen, and otherwise, you gotta talk to your partners before employing crazy sex stuff because Gerald’s Game freaked Jessie right the fuck out and it wasn’t safe at all! “We might die here today because of Gerald’s five inches!” Very quickly into Gerald's untimely death and Jessie’s subsequent imprisonment Prince the dog smells the blood and stops by for a bite. This drives Jessie into a madness where she envisions versions of Gerald and herself talking to her (and it is very well done).

Our first night is coming quickly and our best girl uses some quick thinking to get a drink of water before the lights go out. She wakes up to a spooky visitor and we cannot tell if he is real or in her imagination though and her imaginary husband posits that if the spooky visitor is imaginary then why did the real dog leave? This was very chilling. We also got to see what inspired Talk to Me’s foot sucking action, who knew demons loved toes? (We all did, that's why we never dangled our feet out of the covers)

We are brought back to Jessie’s past, the day of the total solar eclipse, the day her father sexually abused her. Then her horrible father tricks her into thinking that telling anyone would make her look bad so she promises him she won’t ever tell anyone. At this point she is convinced that the man she saw in her room last night is Death (or the Moon Man) and that he is coming back tonight to kill her so she has to act NOW. She remembers something else from the day of the eclipse, cutting her hand, which gives her an idea…

THE DEGLOVING SCENE IS SO BRUTAL. I have not been made physically ill by a horror movie in such a long time but here we are. My LANTA was that AWFUL. I had to pause it to take a break because I was thrown off by this scene, it was very well done but excruciating. (I don’t want to go back until the scary lady with the half hand is gone) I was trembling by the time she got the key to the cuffs and was getting a well earned drink from the tap.

She sees the Moon Man on her way out and gives him her wedding ring as a sort of payment, sort of like paying a coin to cross the River Styx only she gets to live. She drives her car, crashes it, but that leads people to find her. She recovers well but it is only months later that she discovers the spooky visitor she saw was a real man after all who was caught for robbing graves. She goes to his hearing and confronts him, telling him he looks small. She goes on to start a foundation to help anyone who has gone through sexual trauma like she did and tells her story everyday.

Um, this was incredibly true to the book and I loved that about it, they only did a few little things here or there to make the story flow a bit better but holy moly if they didn’t stick to the book! I am very pleased! The only thing that I would have LOVED is if she would have taken Prince the dog on as a pet but that wasn’t in the book and in fact they usually have to destroy dogs that have a taste for human flesh so… yeah… but I like to imagine it would be a very powerful move for Jessie to take the dog that terrorized her and have it become a companion cause the dog was just doing what it needed to to survive but maybe that is just me. Brilliant book, brilliant movie. Great job all around to everyone involved!

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ashesandhackles · 2 years ago

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Goblet of Fire reread (Part 1)

Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4

a very ominous opening, the murder of Tom Riddle's paternal line by. .drum roll Tom. He makes the ring Horcrux (that emphasises his lineage from the Gaunts, the Slytherin line) over this murder. He "pruned" the diseased tree of his family line, and yet this is a site of both his hiding and rebirth (the grave of his father). Voldemort's feelings about his father would be so interesting to explore.

Frank Bryce is a war veteran, and although CoS misses a potential war in Muggle world backstory with Tom, GOF alludes to it in the timeline.

Wormtail returns Voldemort to this site early August. But Nagini is the provider here, a mother for diseased scaly baby Voldemort, and he is in his father's house. It is an interesting image.

Wormtail, probably a guilty conscience, tries to advocate for not using Harry for the plan and as expected, fails. He also shows "sulleness" at the lack of recognition of his skill from Voldemort - "I was the one who found you"

"I will allow you to perform an essential task for me, one that many of my followers would give their right hands to perform" IMAO Voldemort.

A meta about the Riddle house and Voldemort's awareness of class by @artemisia-black

Harry is reading a Quidditch book the previous night, which is open on men with orange robes = Chudley Cannon. XD

what he wanted, was "someone like a parent". Sirius taking care to remind Harry to call on him. he is eager to form a relationship with Harry, it warms my heart. He wants to be needed. And it is this need - that he will be useful, that he can do something that drives him to break out of Azkaban. I love how chatty Harry is with Sirius. It is in direct response to Sirius' interest in him.

I really wish Dudley and Vernon werent talked about in relation to how fat they are - this kind of fatphobic language, which I overlooked as a child, feels really off putting.

Harry manages Vernon and his moods so much - he settles on "politely puzzled" , deciding he cant push Vernon too far that morning. He then decides based on Vernon's mood how to get what he wants - and he uses the Sirius card " ok you wont let me go, but I need to finish a letter for my godfather".

also, "he had cake, Dudley had nothing but grapefruit". I love that Vernon and Petunia bringing them both up is reflected in this - that there is a part of Harry that wants to best Dudley.

Harry being anxious that Dursleys would be rude to Weasleys is so interesting. On one hand, he doesn't want their feelings hurt or have Weasleys be put into an awkward situation because of him. On the other, I wonder if it is his usual tendency of trying to play down how bad Dursleys can get with him that he doesn't want someone like Arthur to witness it.

Harry "fights a mad desire to laugh" when he spent all evening anxious and Vernon rounds him like an angry Wolverine when they hear Weasleys being stuck in chimney. This is similar to Sirius' laugh in high stress situation.

Once again marveling at how quiet Ron is in the family scenes with just his father and the twins. He and Harry share a look when they see Dudley though xD

Chapter 5, 6,7

I love that Arthur didn't actually want to tell on the twins to Molly. Lovely insight into family dynamics there. We also get context: Molly and the twins had a really big row about their ambitions sometime before, and I think Arthur is not keen to retread that.

i love Arthur and Percy's conversation about Ludo Bagman, it contains seeds of conflict of their approach to things.

Ginny and Bill. I love all tiny mentions of how close they are, and how Ginny idolises him.

Percy's middle child isolation is really stark here. Bill and Charlie duel with tables, then Charlie and twins discuss Quidditch while Bill is with Ginny. Ron would be as isolated if it weren't for Harry and Hermione. Percy is talking to his father, and then later Fred and George tease him

there is a tent with live peacocks tethered at the entrance. Want to bet thats Malfoys tent?

Harry and Hermione figured out where the poles and pegs on their tent would go with Arthur. Such a wholesome moment. -tent was furnished exactly as Mrs Figg's house, complete with strong smell of cats. Where is Perkins/Arabella Figg fanfic?

Bode and Department of Mysteries set up here

love the absurd comedy of this chapter, right when Bagman is talking about how everything is going smoothly, there is gaggle of ministry wizards behind him panicking about evidence of a magical fire.

Justice for Ali Bashir and his pitch to export magical carpets

Chapter 8,9,10,11,12

Winky mentioning that Dobby might end up in front of Dept of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures "like a common goblin" so interesting. Goblins as we know, are not subservient and are quite resentful of wizards - and they most likely get into a lot of run-ins. Winky of course, has internalised the hierarchy.

"he knew they werent going to win, he wanted to end the match on his terms" - harry about krum, but it also reflects what he does in the graveyard. when he decides to die standing up and fighting. (This is something I saw on reddit, and I wish I could credit this insight to them because it's <3)

"Ron told Malfoy to go do something that Harry knew he would never dare say in front of Mrs Weasley". Let Ron say f!ck.

The contrast of Draco's stillness to the panic and screams of everyone else is so well written. You can feel the implication and the sinister vibe of it - especially with descriptions of light flashing as they talk.

Harry immediately reacting to the threat and pulling Ron and Hermione to ground when Ministry wizards come in.

the abject humiliation of Winky in this chapter is …a lot. One is of course, that she is taking the fall for Jnr, second is how Amos talks about how elves aren't permitted to carry a wand, and third, how Bagman comes in and almost tramples Winky because that's how dehumanised she is.

Hermione and Percy's argument shows exactly where those characters are. For Percy, justice means upholding the institution he knows and its reputation. Hermione, no longer an assimilationist thanks to her own growth over the books, can't see eye to eye with this.

Every bone of this chapter shows how horrifyingly the wizarding world treats elves, and that is an accepted norm. The narration is very clearly critical of it. I wonder what happened later on.

Mr Roberts "Merry Christmas" is both darkly funny and alarming, with regard to wizard -muggle relations and how normalised Memory charms are.

I love that Arthur asks his eldest son in this undertone to pick up the newspaper. It really shows you Bill's place in the family. And when he is reading, Percy looks over the shoulder.

I love that the first thing harry asks, because he couldnt take any more worry, is where Hedwig is. He wants his letter from Sirius.

Ron cottoning on to Harry's mood and suggesting Quidditch as distraction, along with dangling Wronksi Feint.

the detail of Ginny repairing her textbook with spellotape the night before they leave for Hogwarts.

Bill playing chess with Ron <3

"Why is everything I own rubbish?" You know the Ron detail I love, that while he is furious and embarrassed about the dress robes, the dialogue of him complaining is overlayed with him going to unstick Pig's beak.

I am so curious about Amos Diggory's relationship with Mad-Eye. He seems concerned that Mad-Eye would get in trouble with another department, so he asks Arthur to go get him on a minor charge - so that it doesnt affect Mad Eye's new job. Both Arthur and Molly are concerned about Mad-Eye too, which suggests a personal relationship ("I will be fine, you just take care of Mad-Eye"). It feels like even if Molly and Arthur were not in the Order- their associations ran strong. It is also clear why Bill and Charlie, the older ones, talk Mad Eye up more, while middle children onwards are like, "isnt he a nutter?"

Sorting Hat song is interesting. It says Gryffindor comes from the moors, Ravenclaw from glen, Helga from valley and Slytherin from fen. Does this track with where Godric Hollow is?

-"the mark of good house elf is that you don't know it's there" :/

Harry being appalled there will be no Quidditch and looks around to Fred and George to share the horror. XD

Only Hagrid and Dumbles clap when Moody sits. Shows they are used to him and know him personally while everyone else is taken aback.

Chapter 13, 14,15, 16

Hermione had just discovered the school she loves employs slave labour and is questioning what she reads (a la Hogwarts a History).

"you were born mid-winter?" You are thinking of Tom, Trelawney.

"can i have a look at Uranus too Lavender?" The way this joke flew over my head as a kid.

how interesting that Snape is wary of Mad-Eye. Speaks to very interesting dynamics between dumbles-Madeye-Snape. And Harry offers his reading about how Snape is a bit scared of Mad Eye. I really want a fic about what's going on here.

Moody laughing at the idea of "quiet retirement" after a year as DADA takes on more sinister overtones cos BCJ is clearly making an inside joke to himself.

Also when everyone laughs at the spider dancing under Imperius and Fake Moody going "think it's funny do you?" because his BCJ's father kept him under the Imperius curse before this. (Also interesting how he reacts to Harry throwing it off in his class when he couldnt. For a long time! BCJ is such an interesting antagonist)

and also him making the spider bigger for everyone (specifically Neville) see the effect of the Cruciatus. Hermione is so protective of Neville! She asks him to stop doing it.

when the spell is performed, "something vast and invisible is soaring through the air" - I imagine this is the soul being seperated from the body. Probably why when curse rebounds, Voldemort's soul fractures.

Neville with red eyes reading the book he got from BCJ. (also Harry noted that using Professor Sprout's feedback was tactful way of cheering Neville up, as Lups would have done - but BCJ did this as part of grander manipulation)

I think Hermione's manifesto for SPEW is kinda great: working wages, conditions, changing law about non wand use and get a representation in Department for regulation and control of Magical creatures.

Harry being upset that Sirius is coming running to the country to protect him. What a wonderful problem for Harry to have. An adult that cares too much.

"Excuse me I don't like people just because they are handsome""Lockhart!" Romione bants.

Parvati and her butterfly clip <3

i like how Harry immediately notes what he perceives as inconsistencies, and therefore a possible threat - Karkaroff's smile didn't reach his eyes (and it is phrased as Harry noticed that..)

Ron has a crush on Viktor Krum XD "for heaven's sake, Ron, he is only a Quidditch player" "Only a Quidditch player??" he literally wants to offer him his bed.

Hagrid and Hermione discussing SPEW, and Hermione actually looking cross about Hagrid disagreeing. (Hagrid is an interesting case of marginalisation and injustice where he is just really grateful for what he gets and doesn't really question the status quo).

#hp reread #harry james potter #ron weasley #weasley family #bill weasley #percy weasley #goblet of fire #hermione granger

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