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hopegrasping · 2 days ago

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I think we fundamentally value different things in art. I think you're someone who has access to college and values professionally made art over the hobbyist art I do and the art my family makes and their family before them because they didn't have a college education but still made do with what they had and they did damn good too.

I'm not saying you should never buy another piece of professionally made clothing ever again or that untrained people will 100% always do a better job than people who've had "proper training" or whatever you call it. I'm the "those with disabilities" you're talking about and we still try our best and we work within our limitations given we are at all capable. Don't discount disabled people simply because we have disabilities, we are not your counter argument. We are real people and not a nebulous hypothetical demographic of unfortunate souls with no skin in the game we have conviction and values and while we might not be able to do As Much As Often as the next guy, we do what we can where we can and that's a lot more than a lot of people regardless of their disability status can say. some may not be able to diy at all and that's okay but this post obviously isn't For people who literally can't do a diy project and those who are disabled and unable to do diy are aware of that. It's for people who feel intimidated bc all they every fucking hear is about how fuck ugly their seriously basic handicraft is going to be bc society has been conditioning us to thing only special people are artistic and I simply know that to not be true so I said so.

I say diy isn't inherently going to look like shit 100% of the time that that is a true and productive statement. and that every effort made to better your skills, while it may not be Product You Can Sell Quality, or The Cure To Sweatshop Labor Everywhere, it's a damn good thing to do, for other people, for the environment, and for yourself I have no idea what crawled up your ass to even give this post a wack ass rebuttal as if it ever needed one to begin with, but your "uh actually, you'll never be as good as a professional and thus should never sew a button bc it's gonna look terrible just trust me bro" reads as elitist at best.

I can't tell if you think poor people can't make things work (we can) or if you just love to blatantly ignore the real life daily abuse we know is happening as we are constantly directed to fund it but maybe whatever you got going on is a you problem and maybe you should read the room and step off my cringe ass hopecore Tumblr account during these trying ass fucking times? I'm trying to inspire people to be brave and do something good for others and themselves to keep myself afloat emotionally on this god forsaken planet and you are SO pissing in my Cheerios with your weird defeatist projection

you realize before you graduated you were still making incredible things, right? Things you should probably be proud of? You were building your knowledge with experience and learning as a supplemental part of the process and you Made Stuff? Since you were a kid? We're doing that too. Everyone is allowed and should feel beyond welcomed to do so. We will learn our own way and do without college or the proper materials because we don't Need college or the proper materials to make a wrap skirt or tote bag. I've made repairs using my own hair before because I couldn't afford thread, let alone a new piece of clothing and it looked FINE no one bothered me or noticed and I want everyone to know they have That much freedom to diy. I have thread now and my current diys are amateur yeah but they're Nice and I Like Them and that's all most of us need. People are incredible and amazing and I believe in our ability to excel in our endeavors regardless of our access to college, end of. Normal people making normal art because that's a normal thing you don't need to be special or wealthy to do that is what I am saying. Nothing more. Nothing less. Do you know how insufferable it is to say "Hey everybody! Let's do a little crafting! You can do it! :D" and wake up to someone the next day pisssssssing in your Cheerios? It sucks! It's stressful! You obviously weren't my target demographic! Leave people alone if they aren't hurting you! Go sew or something idk ur good at that right? I am, and that's what I'll be doing, I encourage everyone to do the same. Literally any of you can message me I will help you find resources if you couldn't tell I really believe in the moral and beneficial nature of diy I think even one project a year makes a difference but the more the better.

I can't believe I can post something with punk in the tag and have Anyone go "NUH HUH SEWING ISN'T ACCESSIBLE" there have been days where I had acess to a sewing needle but not food. It's inaccessible to buy all your tools at once and the exact fabrics you need from the fabric store, or even to thrift every item just to add bits and bobs to an already pricey piece. But myself and other and others before our time have been poor in style for decades and for centuries. You salvage thread from clothes you legitimately can't wear anymore. You sneak a pair of scissors from school if you're young, you'll find a needle eventually if you look at ground enough and pick up enough litter. Worst case needles are 1.25 at the dollar store. So is thread. Everyone should have access to sewing. I think that is important and I think it is important to not discourage people from engaging in diy

Let go of the idea that diy will inherently look shit. All your clothes are handmade you just don't see the people doing it.

#ecopunk #solarpunk #diy patches #sewing #visible mending #diy goth #diy or die #diy projects #diy punk #punk diy #hopecore #hopepunk #cripple punk #cpunk #madpunk #<- bc all these impact my ability to diy

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hivemuthur · 23 hours ago

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To Be Known - Ch.1.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! Modern AU, set in London, current era but not very specific. Uncharted waters for me, because I have no idea how many chapters it will come out as.

Reader is: British, Young Vic (get it?) theatre company director, working class, in her 30s, a control freak, a semi-conscious sub. Viktor is: Czech (as always), working in biotech with Jayce, working class, in his 30s, a control freak, a conscious dom.

next chapter -> (will be here once published)

word count: 4,6K

warnings, or rather this work contains: d/s dynamics between main characters (but who the fuck knows what Mel and Jayce are doing), love (attraction?) at first sight, no strings attached to lovers/strangers to lovers (so like reverse emotional slow burn?), lots of porn, angst, happy resolution. I will be adding kink warnings as they appear in the future chapters.

author’s note: Ok, so, um, hi! A Deer and a Man is ending, so something else has to begin. It’s like… a very freeform thing I’m doing here. Sort of about nothing, just relationships with d/s dynamics, because I want to play around with some kinks and stuff. I’m trying to make it make sense here, but not everything might, since it’s just my subjective take on things. It will have some d/s etiquette but not always, because I’m clumsy and my characters get infected with my clumsiness :v Nothing’s new really (hehe, get it?), some plot, some porn, some feelings. It’s basically me going to IKEA asking you if you wanna come and grab some vegan meatballs and the meatballs are smut in this :v So yeh, hi, welcome to another blurb of a mutlichap work.

Special thanks to my friends @rennethen and @strongfartzemergency for pre-reading this and enabling my brainrot. Artist is @petitesieste, just ahh ♡

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Your eyes glaze over the computer screen, trying to memorize a list of poor souls to probe the next day. An ouroboros of theatre life has reached another mark, one where you must make a million decisions in a short span of time: Which plays will grace the stage, who’s performing in them, who’s directing, and who’s dressing all those people in their fancy costumes? And, most importantly, who’s paying for all of it?

So far, a successful year has set your bar even higher, with the next season looming in the golden light of August evenings. You don’t even have time to warm your bones in it—you have to think ahead, transport your brain to the future, to a cold January, when the real test begins for you. In truth, you don’t have time to do anything beneficial for your bones, and you’ve just learned to accept that your joints crack like dry wood every time you move.

A head peaks through the crack in your door, and you don’t have to look up to know who it is.

“Charlie,” you greet him, your nose still scrunched up by the screen. “I know, I know. I’m going, I just need a second.” You begin to rise from your chair but remain hunched over, extending your arm blindly toward the computer. “Did you bring my shoes?”

“Yes, and I’m not kicking you out,” says Charlie, passing you a pair of ballet flats. “But if you want a driver, well… he’s getting impatient.”

“That’s okay, I can commute,” you smile at him, taking the shoes and glancing at your watch. “It’s only Camden… oh, shit, it’s very late. You should, in fact, kick me out.” After a few hurried jumps while putting the shoes on, you're back to frantically picking up unrelated objects and shoving them into your purse: tissues, lipstick, random notes to review in the morning, and Mel’s gift—a seasonal Young Vic pass for her and her plus one.

“Where are you guys meeting?” he asks, passing you the rest of the things you will obviously want or need. It’s a seamless collaboration with Charlie. Since the very beginning, you two have been sharing a brain, and this is partly why nothing has collapsed yet. On the contrary—both you, as a theatre company director, and Charlie, as an assistant director, have been doing an amazing job, mending together a forthcoming approach and love for theatre. And this is all your head is at, despite the one evening of reprieve where you can share beers with friends in a pub that Mel has chosen completely out of character for herself. Which is why, instead of answering, you ask, “Do you really think we can do Hamlet?”

“Why wouldn’t we be able to do Hamlet?” Charlie parrots, passing you a coat with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know, is it not a bit… on the nose? It’s my second year, and my brain’s steamed up so much that I’m doing Hamlet?”

Charlie chuckles softly, as he steps behind you to dress you up. “You are going to do a bitchin’ Hamlet. And now can you please go and have some fun for once?”

“This is fun, Charlie. Hamlet is fun,” you say, holding his arms and giving him a playful shake. “Fun!”

“Calm down, captain,” he grins, rolling his eyes. “Where are you guys going?”

“Ugh… World’s End?”

“World’s End?!” Charlie covers his mouth in feigned horror, his eyes wide. “This is so unlike Miss Medarda!” he whispers, shooting you an incredulous look.

“I know, Mel wanted casual,” you shrug, rolling your eyes. Then, as you move past him, you swat him lightly on the shoulder, seeking another round of uninhibited cackles. “Don’t be mean, Charlie!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Charlie laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Ah, World’s fucking End, who would’ve thought. Let me fetch you a driver, my lady.”

You shake your head and scan your office one last time, making sure you haven’t left anything important behind. Figuratively, of course, since almost everything dear to your heart is actually being left behind. And even though it’s only for a couple of hours, not being in control is frightening.

On the other side of the coin are your friends, with Mel right up front. She’s been there since the very first second of your meeting—right after you yelled at a light technician, making him flinch and nearly fall off the ladder. You had immediately corrected yourself with, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted. But this lightwork is still shit. Please fix it. I ask you kindly.”

That was when Mel grinned, wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and whispered into your ear, “Okay. I want to be your friend.”

Since then, Mel has been one of the main patrons of your theatre company, and you—being a firm unbeliever in your own abilities—are convinced it’s largely her money and pep talks that have granted you the creative freedom that led to you becoming an artistic director. Your worlds collided fast and hard, and, being another person married to her work, she quickly became one of the closest people in your life.

Until Jayce.

Mel, being someone who treats every relationship as an investment, doesn’t limit her influence to the arts. So when her family decided to fund research grants for scientists from the Francis Crick Institute, you knew something was coming as soon as she justified the decision with, “And they are both very handsome.”

You know the urge very well—the ever-nagging need to have everything under control, to oversee every grain of sand that rolls through the waist of the hourglass, every second planned, every schedule so tight there is barely time to breathe. It’s one of the things that bonded the both of you.

So when Jayce came along—with his motivation stemming not from a sickening need for self-accomplishment or a desperate urge to prove something to the world, but from the purity of his own heart and a healthy curiosity—Mel began to crack. And then the disease spread to you.

Now, you actually rest. You spend your free Sundays socializing. You talk about things other than work. You’ve even been on a few unsuccessful dates. And it’s all Jayce’s fault.

You loved him for it immediately—the small crumbs of the outside world granted to you and Mel through his unabashed joy and excitement. Jayce made things fun, and turning your phone off—briefly relinquishing control—became a little less terrifying.

From there, your thoughts drift in different directions until your absent-minded stare at the moving lights outside the car window is interrupted. The driver, in a grumpy tone, informs you that you’ve arrived at your destination. You crack the joints in your hands before thanking him and bidding him goodnight.

The World’s End is all red from the outside, its glow bleeding onto the wet pavement. Through the glass, you spot the back of Mel’s heavily accessorized hairstyle, a head of intricate twists and gleaming accents. You glance at your reflection, and—well. You’ve seen better days.

Your mini skirt has twisted around, placing the slit exactly where you don’t want it, so you yank it back into place, cursing Charlie for not telling you. In the process, you notice a small eyelet in your tights, the hole widening with each step you take. No nail polish to stop it from spreading. You curse yourself for that one. Your shirt is crumpled at the stomach—a reminder of hours spent hunched over your desk. Your necklace has caught a bunch of stray hairs, which you pick out frantically as you stride toward the door. And the rest of your hair? An artistic mess, sculpted by an impatient hand that’s raked through it a hundred times too many today.

Once inside, Mel’s slender hand and a row of her impossibly white teeth beckon you forward as she stands up to give you a hug.

And the inside of The World's End is exactly what you would expect from a Camden pub—big, loud, and brimming with mismatched charm. The walls are cluttered with a collection of art that looks like it was bought in a rush at a local flea market. There's a hum of conversation mixing with the thrum of the music playing in the background, and the space itself is large, almost cavernous. The low ceiling and uneven, wooden floorboards give it an unpolished look that feels welcoming to some, but it's not exactly the kind of place you'd expect to see Mel at.

Mel, in contrast, belongs in a sleek, minimalistic bar, somewhere where the drinks are as carefully curated as the furniture, where everything is perfectly composed. Here, she’s lost in the midst of it all, a little too refined for the space, as if her sharp lines don’t quite align with the pub’s rough edges. The things we do for friends.

“Darling, I’m glad you made it,” she chirps, walking toward you and spreading her arms wide.

“Now I can say I’d go to the end of the world for you,” you murmur into her shoulder, squeezing her tight. Then, pulling back, you present a small envelope. “Happy birthday, love. Here—best possible seats.”

Mel’s brows lift as she takes the tickets, flipping them between her fingers. “You shouldn’t have,” she says, though the gleam in her eye betrays her excitement. “But thank you. You wouldn’t believe who Jayce has managed to drag along,” she murmurs into your ear.

“Oh, it can’t be,” you whisper back, scanning the table over her shoulder.

A few of her closest friends sit huddled together, deep in conversation and laughter. Then, Jayce’s broad frame, unmistakable even in the dim light. And next to him—

A pair of loose shoulders, wrapped in a red shirt stretched between two sharp blades. The nape of his neck, covered in a mess of brown curls. He leans on one hand, nodding along to whatever Jayce is saying, his profile cutting sharp against the glow of the street lights.

Viktor. The last man standing, the one seemingly immune to Jayce’s influence when it comes to making people step out of their comfort zones. And yet, here he is. Of all occasions, it’s Mel’s birthday that has somehow coaxed Viktor out of his self-imposed solitude. A horse you wouldn’t have bet on.

You are led to the table, where all the seats seem to be taken—until Viktor removes his cane from the empty stool beside him and gestures for you to sit between him and Jayce. As you lower yourself onto the stool, you take his hand briefly and say, “The smartest man in the room, finally in the room.”

“You must be talking about Jayce,” he counters, a glint of amusement in his eye. He holds your palm for just a moment longer than necessary before letting go. “I’ve heard much about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” you reply with a smile—until Mel’s head suddenly pokes between the two of you.

“What’s your poison, honey?” she asks. Only now do you notice her flushed cheeks and the way she’s completely disregarded the concept of personal space, her arm stretching beyond your shoulders to tug playfully at Jayce’s hair.

“A pint of bitter?” you say, startled.

She frowns slightly, but you quickly follow with, “Cheers,” hoping to steer her attention elsewhere. Her eyes squint at you, but she relents, giving Jayce’s back a clingy hug before strolling off to the bar. Only now Viktor’s hand releases yours.

He studies you for a moment before turning to his glass, giving you the chance to take a closer look—

The first two buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing the hollow between his collarbones, skin up to his neck is covered in a satin sheen of sweat. Tendons shift beneath it, blue veins threading along his throat. His hair is faintly damp around the ears, curling and plastering itself to his temples. From the side, his jaw forms nearly a perfect square.

You don’t dare to look higher.

Lower down, though, his sleeves are rolled up carelessly, exposing freckle-specked arms. You spot it by dropping your gaze naturally.

Mel was right. They are both very handsome.

As the birthday gal disappears toward the bar, you are left wedged between the two scientists, the noise of conversation assaulting your ears. Across the table, Amara leans in, her many rings clinking as she refills someone’s glass from a sweating bottle of wine. Beside her, Salo—always overdressed for the occasion, his blonde curls neatly combed back—gestures broadly mid-story, his voice animated. A few seats down, Mion, the youngest among them and always balancing the line between sharp and naive, listens intently while occasionally stealing olives from Mel’s abandoned plate.

"So," Jayce starts, shifting his weight so he can face you properly. “What’s keeping you so busy these days?”

You exhale, stretching your arms along the back of your seat, making your spine pop. “Wrapping up meetings with playwrights, directors, and actors—making sure everything aligns. Managing funding and sponsorships, finalising script choices.”

Salo whistles. “Sounds like a headache.”

“It’s a miracle she’s here at all,” Jayce adds, nursing his beer. “I half-expected her to send a regretful telegram from the depths of her desk.”

That earns a laugh from Amara, who nudges your foot under the table. “And what are the plays, then? What’s in?”

You rest your chin in your palm and do a mock countdown with the fingers of the other. “Further than the Furthest Thing, The Scottsboro Boys, A Streetcar Named Desire—possibly Hamlet.”

Mel, just returning with your beer, lets out a delighted gasp as she sets it down. “Hamlet? Oh, darling, tell me you’re doing it.”

“Calm yourself,” you warn, reaching for your drink. “I said possibly.”

She spreads her hands dramatically. “I can already see it now—the staging, the lighting—”

“Don’t start designing the posters just yet,” you cut in, but she’s grinning too widely to be discouraged. “I can still change my mind.”

“You know that’s a lot for one person,” Viktor remarks, leaning in from your right, his voice lower, meant just for the two of you. His pupils are darker, wider than the number of glasses of wine he’s had would suggest, assessing you from under hooded eyelids.

“I’ve always run through my life,” you say simply, tipping your glass toward him. “I do have help, though.” Viktor clicks his tongue, his mouth curving into a half-smile.

Before you can figure out what it means, Mion suddenly snaps her fingers. “Wait—how did you and Mel meet, anyway?”

Mel waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, I saw her preparing Yerma, and it was love at first sight.”

“Love?” Salo lifts a brow.

“She was standing on stage, sleeves rolled up, arguing over how the chairs should be arranged.” Mel sighs theatrically. “Her diligence. Her eye for detail. I knew I had to have her.”

Jayce snorts. “And by ‘have her,’ you mean ‘fund her.’”

Mel grins. “Exactly.”

The table dissolves into laughter, glasses clinking. Conversations crisscross—Salo and Mion bickering over some technical aspect of stage production, and you don’t have the heart to correct them. Jayce launching into an enthusiastic recounting of an experiment gone wrong. Someone beside you leans in to talk, and for a moment, you lose the thread of conversation.

The haze of smoke, the warmth of alcohol-softened breaths, the layered voices—it all blurs. Next to you, Viktor is speaking, but his words are swallowed by the noise.

The room tilts slightly, or maybe it’s just the drink settling in. Sounds overlap and ring in your ears as exhaustion takes hold and you zone out. Somewhere nearby, a bottle of wine gets passed around, then discarded in the middle of the table, still within your reach. A voice cuts through the fog, softer, closer. Then sharper, clearer than before.

Foreshadowed by Viktor’s hand on your leg—his right palm rests on you, and the moment it does, you tilt toward him, only to find he’s done the same. His fingers press inward, just barely grazing the inside of your thigh. It’s a gentle invasion, entirely unprovocative, something that simply happens—natural. His left arm hovers over your backrest as his mouth nears your ear, and you can feel the tickle of his hair on your cheek.

“Pass me the wine.” A soft command, tilting toward a question at the end, firm and quiet all at once.

You reach for the bottle without looking, your eyes fixed on his throat as he breathes. The moment it comes close, his touch leaves your leg and finds your fingers instead. His skin brushes yours, spreading the sweat from the glass onto your own, and something coils low in your stomach.

“Good…” he murmurs, clipped, as if something else should follow. “Thank you.” And then his warmth is gone, leaving you painfully sober, achingly empty.

It’s one of the most agonising seconds of your life—except this time, there’s something sickly sweet curling around the edges, a lingering undertone that was missing from all the other agonising moments you’ve suffered through.

For the rest of the evening, your attention doesn’t waver, save for the necessary moments to put Mel in the spotlight.

Viktor lingers close. Not close enough to raise any eyebrows—everyone else is too busy bickering and laughing at Jayce’s anecdotes—but enough for you to notice and relish in it. His breath occasionally fans your face when he leans over you for the bottle, his knee bumps yours under the table. He sits tilted toward you, his arm hooked against your stool, and his eyes never leave you, one way or another. He bombards you with questions and answers yours without blinking.

"Where did you study?" you ask, lips glued to the rim of your glass, leaving an stamp of your lipstick there.

"Abroad," he says vaguely, tipping his head. "You?"

"England. Try again," you counter, not looking up, only baring your teeth to the remnants of a cocktail in your hand.

Viktor exhales a quiet chuckle, tilting his glass idly in his fingers before conceding, "Vigilant, of course. Very well—biochemistry at UTC Prague." He pauses, watching your reaction. "Then onward to Francis Crick through MSCA. Now—tell me yours." The last part, a command again, gentle and firm and you find yourself reciting in no time.

"Theatre and Performance at Goldsmiths," you reply, your words a little looser, the alcohol working its way through your veins.

"Ah, how prestigious," he murmurs, voice laced with amusement.

"If you consider five years of bullying that, then yes," you slur, twirling your drink in your glass. His expression sharpens, brows lifting slightly in silent question. You sigh, meeting his gaze. "I got The Royal Academy of Dramatic Art scholarship. Before that, I led an utterly non-prestigious life in Staines."

"Hardworking girl," he purrs, and oh—his hand returns to your thigh, this time less inconspicuous as he drags a long finger up and stops just beneath the hem of your skirt.

"Where do you live?" he asks, his voice dipping lower, quieter, like the answer might be something just for him.

"Hackney," you answer immediately, then, seeing his knowing smile, feel the need to correct yourself. "The bad Hackney. You?"

"Eh, Islington," Viktor says, a hint of sheepishness in his voice.

Your mock jaw drop is immediate. "Unbelievable," you drawl. "And you dare to make fun of my fancy living?"

Viktor smirks, his fingers brushing your thigh before retreating. "You are making it up. But we can share a cab home then."

Something jumps in your chest at the thought of being locked in a tiny space alone with this man. And the cab driver, but, nevertheless. "I suppose we can. When do you want to go?" you ask, as steadily as you can manage right now.

He exhales slowly, then leans in, his breath warm against your ear. "Let's go now."

You have to stop your eyes from rolling in your skull. In fact, with the mix of various alcohols cursing through your veins and the secretive glances he’s been giving you, you’d probably nod vigorously if he offered to fuck you on the bar.

You step away from the table, weaving through the crowded space as you pull out your phone. Your fingers tremble slightly—whether from the drinks or the anticipation, you can't tell. It doesn’t matter. The cab company confirms your ride is on its way, barely three minutes out.

When you return, Viktor is still lounging against the table, his fingers tracing the rim of his now-empty glass. He doesn’t look at you right away, but his body angles toward you the moment you step back into his space. You lean in just enough to let the scent of him—wine, sweet sweat and washing powder—settle into your senses before speaking.

“We have three minutes,” you say casually, as if not stopping yourself from clenching your thighs.

Viktor gives a small, knowing nod and starts shuffling around for his cane and coat. His movements are unhurried, but there’s a quiet efficiency to them, a preparedness that has you smiling.

From across the table, Mel lets out a dramatic sigh. “You’re leaving already? I knew I shouldn’t have sat two workaholics together.”

Jayce snorts into his drink. “At least they lasted this long. I was expecting Viktor to slip out halfway through.”

Viktor hums in vague amusement, fastening the buttons of his coat. “And miss all your storytelling? Impossible.”

Mel rolls her eyes but grins. “Fine, fine. Go, be boring. Just don’t forget—” she waggles a finger at you—“you owe me a Hamlet.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Goodnight, Mel.”

With that, you feel Viktor’s hand brush lightly against the small of your back—an absentminded gesture, almost cautious, but it sends a thrill down your spine.

It’s raining again, and neither of you has an umbrella, so you huddle together under your purse until Viktor opens the door for you. You fall in with no grace whatsoever and slide your ass across the back seat to make space for him. He steps in slowly, throws his address to the driver, then slumps down beside you, looking at you expectantly.

For a moment, you freeze—until you realise everyone is waiting for your address. Mumbling out the street and number, you lean back, your shoulder blades pressing against his arm.

And oh. You know damn well you won’t be able to let this go beyond tonight—or that you shouldn’t be fucking around where you figuratively eat—but he smells good, and his eyes stay on you, dark and hungry. So you tip yourself into the crook of his shoulder, tilting your head up with an innocently pleading look.

Viktor chuckles, as if something has just been confirmed, and his slender hand finds its way between your thighs. His body shifts subtly, shielding you from the driver, who barely suppresses an eye roll in the rear-view mirror. His lips, burning with alcohol and want, close over yours. His tongue pushes inside, licking slow and deep along the row of your teeth. His fingers travel up your leg, stopping painfully close to where you ache for him most, and squeeze—just enough to brace himself as he leans in further.

You fumble with the buttons of his coat, slipping your hands beneath to tug his shirt free from his trousers. Another warm chuckle rumbles against your lips.

“So efficient,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss to mouth at your ear. His breath is hot when he whispers, “Do you want to fuck here, or will you be a good girl and wait until we get home?”

A strangled moan escapes you, and your own hand flies up to clamp over your mouth. Viktor grins against your skin.

“Good. Quiet,” he purrs, before dragging his tongue in a slick trail down your neck, stopping halfway to suck a bruise into your flesh.

Breath stumbles in your lungs when he stops, lips flushed, wet and red with your smeared lipstick, his teeth barely grazing your skin before he leans back to look at you. His fingers remain firm between your thighs, a teasing pressure that makes your legs tense and tremble beneath his touch.

Whatever has led you to this moment is not your usual behaviour, but somehow, you can’t be bothered to announce it. Long ago—somewhere after shitty date number five, or fifteen—you swore off bad sex for the sake of no sex and peace of mind. You grew tired of partners who were more tease than do, and the ones who assumed you’d thrive on organising everything in bed, just as you do at work.

You crave someone to take that pressure off you. Someone who would simply allow you to be dumb, even just for a few moments. To fuck your brains out so that poor strongest muscle of yours can replenish and breathe before you have to step back into the saddle and lead the chaotic orchestra of theatre technicians, actors, directors, and founders toward whatever critics deem a successful season. To take all the decision-making away and praise you for it.

And you have no guarantee that Viktor will do exactly that—other than the way his roaming hand squeezes your leg so firmly or the way his tongue, insistent and wanting, doesn’t ask permission before invading your mouth. The way he has stared at you the entire night has left you hotter and more bothered than anyone’s scrutiny ever has. And even if this is a mistake, it’s one you are willing to make. Your thighs shake at the thought, and Viktor gasps softly against your lips.

"You're trembling," he murmurs, voice low as the vowels roll thickly off his tongue. His free hand reaches up, pushing your hair aside. He trails his knuckles along your jaw, his thumb pressing lightly against your parted lips. "Cold, or something else?"

You give a breathy laugh, rolling your hips ever so slightly into his palm, chasing that friction. Viktor hums, pleased, before his fingers slip higher—just barely ghosting over the hanging-there nylons shielding your underwear. Your breath catches.

The cab rattles over a pothole, jolting you both, but neither of you pulls away. If anything, it only makes Viktor bolder. He shifts to face you fully, pressing you back into the seat as he kisses you again, deeper this time, his tongue curling languidly around yours. You taste wine and your own spit on him, and it makes you dizzy.

His hand abandons your thigh only to grab your wrist, dragging it to the front of his trousers, where he's already half-hard beneath the layers of fabric. "I want you," he breathes against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip before letting his forehead drop to yours.

You palm him through the material, pressing just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath. The sound alone makes a fresh gush of lust bloom in your knickers.

Then—a pointed cough.

You both jolt as if caught doing something far more illicit than you already are.

"Islington," the cab driver announces dryly, eyes fixed firmly on the road.

Viktor huffs out a laugh, dragging his fingers through his already-mussed hair. "Do you want to come in?" he says, as if you hadn’t just been grinding against each other like reckless teenagers in the back of a cab.

You swallow, pulse still pounding in your ears. "Yes," you nod. "Yes."

“I suppose we will wrap up the ride here,” Viktor says reaching for his wallet and taking out one note too many to make up for whatever the poor man had to endure. “Yeah, mate, I figured. Have a great night.”

#my writing #viktor arcane #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader #viktor x reader smut #viktor smut #viktor x f!reader #viktor x oc #arcane #arcane fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor nation #to be known

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enha-files · 3 days ago

Text

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐋𝓔𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 ◞ ( 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 & 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐒 )

✶ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝓲𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐝 . our awards came to an end and we came here to announce the winners to those who didn’t participate with us on our discord server! check out below the winners, graphs, and the admins’ thank you notes ♡

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ • 𝟢𝟏 ❜ the main awards

WRITER OF THE YEAR : @okwonyo FIC OF THE YEAR : 10 things i hate about you ( @yenqa ) SMAU OF THE YEAR : good graces ( @juyeoz ) BEST THEMES : @bywons BLOG OF THE YEAR : @okwonyo

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ • 𝟢𝟐 ❜ the other awards

BEST NEW WRITER : @flwrstqr BEST DRABBLE : spoiled rotten ( @boyfhee ) BEST ONE-SHOT : emails i never meant to send ( @onlyjjong ) BEST FLUFF FIC : the art & science of parenting ( @jakesimfromstatefarm ) BEST ANGST FIC : maybe in another universe ( @leaderwon ) BEST ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE : spiderman!au — head over heels ( @star-sim ) BEST HCS : loser in a hot man’s body ( @fgumi ) & pulling them by their belt ( @boyfhee ) TIE! BEST PLOT : race for your heart ( @coqhee )

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ • 𝟢𝟑 ❜ fan favourite awards

MOST LOVED BLOG : @okwonyo MOST LOVED FIC : no doubt ( @jakesimfromstatefarm ) BEST WRITING STYLE : @boyfhee

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ • 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔!

𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 . . . rosie ♡ hi everyone !! first of all, i would like to thank all of you for taking your time to join our award show. we put a lot of our hard work into this and you guys being here means a lot! i'd also like to thank my lovely admins navy and red. although red couldn't be here, she helped just as much and i like to thank them both for supporting this award show! your hard work helped put all of this together! and next to my amazing mcs who did a wonderful job today! from their chemistry to their support, they did their part to the fullest! thank you for hosting our show. and lastly to my fantastic nominees! you guys were the reason we made this award show! thank you so much for being here, to the people who won and didn't, don't worry! you guys are all winners in my heart and you deserve just as much love with your outstanding talent! thank you all for joining!!

𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 . . . navy ♡ first of all, congratulations to all winners and nominees! you are all incredibly talented and it’s amazing to see how our community is so creative!

thank you so much to everyone who joined us along this one month journey for the awards! to all the people who took your precious time to fill the forms, vote and share the awards, you have my most sincere gratitude! ^_^

also, a huge thank you to our mcs, jiah and caelin. we really could not have done this without you. thank you to rosie for allowing me to be a part of this, and a special thank you to red, our third admin, who couldn’t join us today, but was still a part of the awards 💙

enha-files will still work normally as a server and on our tumblr. we hope that it becomes a place where all readers, writers and people in the community can send us asks about enhablr, works, and other concerns, and that it becomes a safe corner for you on tumblr. count on us for many amazing things!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ᐢ..ᐢ this was our first event ! thank you for being a part of it ♡ join us in our discord server today or send us your first ask regarding anything enhablr related!

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c1nna1nmyr0ll · 3 days ago

Text

Fantasy Fulfilled

Yuuji Itadori x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: aged-up characters, drinking, body worship, making out, nipple sucking, pet names, oral sex, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, praise kink, multiple orgasms, creampies, and getting caught kinda

a/n: another older kinktober fic!

Also, maybe consider signing up for the 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐦!!

“Do you think Yuji will notice me in this?” you ask while holding up the short skirt that clings around your thighs.

“Are you kidding?” Nobara gasps. “He would be an idiot if he didn’t! You look so sexy, so he better, right, Maki?”

“Hmm?” Maki flicks her eyes toward you and looks over your costume. “Yeah, he’d be an idiot.”

“See? Even Maki agrees, so you should be fine,” Nobara reassures you by patting your shoulder.

You’re currently getting ready with Nobara and her girlfriend, Maki, at her dorm, for a Halloween party that your other friends are having at their apartment. Your crush Yuji Itadori will even be there. The guy you’ve liked since your first year at college, but you’ve only ever been “just friends.” Tonight at the party you hope to change that. So, you and Nobara decided that you should wear something that’ll get his attention. A sexy nurse costume. You know how cliché and dumb that is, but you really want to get Yuji’s attention.

“Yeah, I hope,” you say.

“Besides, if you feel embarrassed, we’ll just blow the party and get some food and make it a girls’ night,” Nobara says.

“Thanks, Nobara, that sounds perfect,” you say.

“I know, right?” she agrees, and you and Maki can’t help but laugh.

When you and the girls arrive at Yuta and Inumaki’s apartment, it’s decked out in fun decorations, with Inumaki and Yuta greeting the three of you at the door. You notice that Inumaki’s dressed as Feitan, and Yuta is dressed as Spider-Man.

“Hey guys,” Yuta greets. “Thanks for coming!” Inumaki hums in glee.

“Thanks for having us!” Nobara cheers.

“The alcohol is in the kitchen,” Yuta explains.

“Great! Thanks, boys,” Nobara says and grabs you and Maki and runs to the kitchen. “Come on! Time for some shots!”

Nobara grabs the first shot glass she sees and pours some vodka into the glass. You and Maki follow soon after her. You all do a cheer clinking your shots and taking them. You and Nobara both wince from the taste, while Maki doesn’t react.

The three of you go back to Yuta and Inumaki.

“So, when are Yuji and Megumi getting here?” Nobara asks, primarily for your sake.

“Oh, they should be here soon,” Yuta says. “Yuji just texted that they’re on their way.”

“Perfect,” Nobara says. “You guys look amazing, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you,” Yuta says, and Inumaki gives Nobara a small smile. “We worked all day.” Then, Inumaki points to the three of you. “Oh! Right, Inumaki! You girls look great too.”

“Aw, you flatter us,” Nobara jokes. Everyone laughs.

A few minutes later, Yuji and Megumi walk through the apartment door.

“Hey, guys!” Yuji greets. “Megumi and I are here!”

“Hey!” Nobara shouts as everyone cheers for their arrival. You take a moment to admire Yuji’s costume. He’s dressed as a firefighter, but the big jacket he’s wearing is about showing his broad, beautiful, muscled chest. Man, you wish that chest was on top of you.

“So, Megumi, what are you supposed to be?” Nobara points out that Megumi is wearing just black jeans and a black shirt.

“I’m a shadow,” he simply says.

“Seriously, Megumi?” Maki asks. “That’s the dumbest costume I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t really care; at least I’m wearing a costume,” he says.

“I was the one who told you, you needed a costume,” Yuji explains.

“Whatever,” Megumi rolls his eyes. Then, Megumi, Maki, and Nobara all go to the kitchen, leaving you and Yuji in the living room.

“I really like your costume, Yuji,” you say.

“Thanks, yeah, I dressed up for the job I want,” he chuckles.

“Oh, I wish I did that,” you look at your own costume.

“Are you kidding? I think you look great,” he compliments. You feel your face heat up.

“Thank you,” you say.

“Are you gonna go into the kitchen for some alcohol?” Yuji asks you.

“Oh, yeah, do you wanna come?” you ask.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he gives you his signature handsome smile.

You both head to the kitchen, where everyone else is drinking their mixed drinks. You all stand together chatting and drinking, just ordinary party things, until…

“Guys! I have an idea for something fun!” Nobara announces.

“What?” Yuta asks.

“We should play truth or dare,” she says.

“Truth or dare?” Maki asks, amused.

“Yeah, what are we? Middle schoolers?” Megumi asks.

“Come on; it’ll be fun!” Nobara promises. “Right, Y/N?” She looks at you as if she’s planning something for you particularly.

“Uh, yeah,” you agree.

“Perfect!” Nobara says. “I think I’ll–”

“Oh!” Yuji speaks up. “You should ask Megumi first.”

“What?!” Megumi shouts.

“Yeah, you should ask Megumi first,” Maki agrees. Nobara’s eyes flicker to you as if she’s apologizing to you.

“Alright, Megumi, truth or dare?” Nobara asks. Megumi sighs.

“Whatever, truth,” Megumi answers.

“Oh, truth, huh?” Nobara chuckles. Megumi gives her a death glare. “Has anyone ever caught you masturbating before?” Everyone looks to Megumi, waiting for his answer. Megumi’s face puffs into a red tomato.

“Yeah,” Megumi says.

“Really? How? Who was it?” Nobara asks. Megumi doesn’t look anyone in the eye.

“Gojo caught me one time when he didn’t knock on my door,” Megumi mutters. Everyone’s jaws drop.

“Holy shit,” Yuji says.

“At least Gojo knocks on my door every time now,” Megumi says.

“Alright, well, uh, Megumi, it’s your turn to ask someone,” Nobara tells him.

“Ugh, fine. Maki, truth or dare?” Megumi asks. Maki chuckles.

“Gimme a dare,” she says.

“Alright, I dare you to call Panda right now,” Megumi challenges.

“Huh?” Maki asks. “Are you serious?”

“Isn’t Panda in office hours right now?” you ask.

“Yeah, I think he has to help a first-year with their midterm or something,” Yuta explains.

“Yeah, do it. Unless you’re scared,” Megumi says.

“Pfft. I am not scared. I’ll do it right now,” Maki says. So, she calls up Panda, who was in office hours. He’s not particularly happy that he’s getting called while he’s trying to do his job. He gives you all a lecture about the whole thing. The call didn’t even seem worth the joke, but Megumi was chipper the entire call, quietly laughing as Maki got an earful.

The game continues, and you seem to be left out. You’re not the center of the game, which you didn’t mind. As you watch everyone else perform their tasks, Nobara takes the opportunity to express her plan for your turn. This plan being seven minutes in heaven with Yuji. You initially feel shy about it, but since you’re pretty tipsy, the idea doesn’t sound so bad.

When it finally gets to be your turn, you follow Nobara’s lead and take the dare. Just like she promised, she sends you off with Yuji. The two of you are locked inside Yuta’s room, where you will be for the next seven minutes.

“So, I guess we’ll be in here for a while,” Yuji jokes.

“I guess so,” you chuckle along with him.

The two of you sit silently on Yuta’s bed for a bit while you search for a way to handle this situation. This is the exact moment you feel a shot that you had moments before hit you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Yuji says.

“Hmm?” you hum. He takes the opportunity to take your chin into his fingers. The action makes your eyes widen. He chuckles.

“You look really beautiful tonight,” he says. “And sexy, too.”

“Uh, thank you,” your mind swims. He brings your face closer to his and kisses you. It’s sweet and tastes like bitter alcohol. You feel him trail his tongue on your lower lip, asking for entrance. You gladly give it to him, and he wastes no more time. He moves his hands to lift you and place you on his lap. Your cunt brushes up against his growing erection. You moan into Yuji’s mouth when you feel it, making him smile.

He moves his lips to your neck while your hands rest in his pink hair. He leaves your neck peppered in soft kisses and soft bites. He notices that your costume has a front zipper, lucky for him. He looks back at you before doing anything with it.

“Can I take it off?” he asks. You nod your head; you’re touched that he’s so considerate. He slowly unzips the outfit and unzips the entire costume off of you. He’s delighted to see you only wearing panties underneath. He wastes no time in putting his tongue on one of your nipples. You moan out and arch your back toward his mouth. As he’s sucking, you begin to strip him of his costume jacket. He unlatches from your nipple and finishes removing his coat for you, and throws it on the floor. He looks into your eyes as he speaks again.

“Lay on the bed, pretty girl,” he prompts. You do as he requests and move off his lap and lay on the bed. He moves off the bed and brings you close to him by pulling your thighs. He kneels done at the bed’s edge right at your cunt. “Wow, you’re already this wet from making out? That’s so sexy, baby.” He carefully removes your panties and places your thighs on his shoulders. He licks at your folds, looking directly at you. He smiles as he sees you becoming a moaning mess under his touch.

You throw your head back against the mattress as Yuji’s tongue explores your pussy.

“Ah! Mm! Yuji!” you shout. His tongue moves in and out of your cunt, and he occasionally tongues your clit. You move your hands to thread in Yuji’s hair pulling him towards your pussy. His nose bumps at your clit with each pull you have. You ride his face as you feel your abdomen begin to coil. Your cunt’s walls squeeze around Yuji’s tongue. You scream out Yuji’s name as you cum on his tongue. He laps up all your juices before rising and joining you on the bed, hovering above you.

Yuji leans down and kisses you. You taste your orgasm on his lips and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He breaks the kiss to say something.

“I want to fuck you,” he says.

“Please, please fuck me, Yuji,” you beg. He raises himself again and gets off the bed as he unbuckles his belt and swiftly removes his pants and boxers. His cock springs up, and it’s nice and big. You can’t wait for it to fill you up. He climbs back on the bed and hovers above you just like before. He places his hands on your thighs and moves them apart. He takes his cock and rubs it on your fold, collecting your orgasm on his cock. You whimper at the feeling of his cock moving in your folds.

“Are you ready?” Yuji asks.

“Yes, please, I’m ready,” you say.

He thrusts his cock into you and completely bottoms out. Yuji groans at the feeling while you moan out. He holds your thighs, and you clutch the sheets under you. He begins a fast pace, and his cock hits your sweet spot with every thrust. Your eyes start to roll back, and you throw your head back. Yuji keeps a stronghold on your thighs as he fucks himself into you.

“Fuck,” he curses. “You feel so fucking good.” He continues railing into you as you feel another orgasm coming. His balls slap against your ass, and the sound carries throughout the room but not being drowned out by your cries.

“Yuji!” you shout. “‘M cumming again.”

“Shit, yeah,” he says. “Cum on my cock, pretty girl.” You gush around his cock, and you cream on his cock. Yuji feels you squeeze his cock as you cum. He looks down and admires the white ring that envelops his cock and begins fucking into you harder. You cry out from his cock, hitting at your abused cunt. You feel his cock twitch from within you, and he cums into your pussy, but he doesn’t stop his thrusts. He continues to fuck you.

“Mm! Yuji!” you cry.

“I know, baby, just gonna cum in you one more time,” he promises. He grabs your legs and places them on his shoulders, and reaches deeper into your pussy. He looks down at you and notices how fucked out you truly are. “Shit, you look so sexy.” He watches as your chest heaves as you breathe heavily, your tits bounce from his thrusts, and how your hair clings to your forehead. He listens to your sweet, sweet moans. God, you look so beautiful under him.

His cock begins twitching again after his unrelenting thrusts, and he cums inside you once again. He doesn’t pull out of you but moves your legs to the side and collapses back on the bed above you. You both breathe together, trying to calm yourselves.

“That was amazing,” Yuji says.

“Yeah,” you agree.

“You know, I’d love to buy you dinner or something,” Yuji says, and you laugh.

“I would love that, Yuji,” you stroke his hair.

“Hey! Your minutes are up! Time to–” you and Yuji both look at the door and see Nobara. You all start at each other for a half second before she slams the door. “Sorry! Sorry!” Yuji quickly pulls out of your pussy, and you both hastily get dressed. As you put your costume back on, Yuji’s cum is beginning to fall out of you. Yuji’s hand swipes the cum from your pussy and thighs and stuffs his cum ridden fingers into your mouth.

“Don’t let it go to waste, pretty girl,” he whispers. “Now, come on, we shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.” He extends his hand out to you, and you take it. Then, he leads you out of the room and back to the party.

#yuuji x reader #itadori x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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rebbiasnuts · 2 days ago

Text

Eric survey

Full name: rebbias  Nicknames: rebbias  Birthplace: Bordeaux  Birthday: 04/09/2008  Where Do You Live Now?: America   Parent(s): mom and dad  Sibling(s): baby sister on the way, 1 older sister, 2 older brothers  Looks: curly dark brown hair brown eyes 4’11”  Favorite Animal(s): hyrax, dog  Favorite TV Show(s): Clarence and peppa pig  Favorite Kind(s) Of Music: all except country music I am polyjamorous   Favorite Movie(s): movies made by michel ocelot  School: high school   Future School: a good one  Future Job: idk  Boyfriend/Girlfriend: Boyfriend   Best Buds: my homegirl   Favorite Candy: trolli gummies  Hobbies: dance, cheer, tumblr  Things You Collect: money   Do You Have A Personal Phone Line: yes  Favorite Body Part Of The Opposite Sex: arms and hands and torso

 Any Tattoos And Where Of What?: no  Piercing(s) And Where?: ears and belly   What Do You Sleep in?: shorts and t shirt   Do you like Chain Letters: no ugh🤬  Best Advice: if u want to smell amazing don’t drench urself with perfume use cocoa butter baby oil after u shower and perfume oil when you dress up THEN pump a little bit of perfume   Favorite Quotes: “we ALL retarded” -cardi b  Non-sport Activity You Enjoy: idk  Dream Car: i like the one I have now  Favorite Thing To Do In Spring: cheerleading   What’s Your Bedtime: idk  Where Do You Shop?: the mall and online  Coke or Pepsi: coke  Favorite Thing(s) To Wear?: lulu  Favorite Subject(s) In School?: lunch  Favorite Color(s): pink  Favorite People To Talk To Online: I like interacting more than talking  Root-Beer or Dr. Pepper?: none  Do You Shave?: yes  Favorite Vacation Spot(s): Jamaica   Favorite Family Member(s): my dad  Did You Eat Paint Chips When You Were a Kid?: yes  Favorite CD you own: shrek the ultimate collection   The ONE Person Who You Hate The Most: idk  Favorite Food(s): oxtail  Who Is The Hottest Guy or Girl In The World?: my boyfriend   What Is Your Favorite Salad Dressing?: i think it’s called creamy french   When You Die, Do You Wanna Be Buried or Burned Into Ashes?: idk  Do You Believe In Aliens?: yes  If You Had The Chance To Professionally Do Something, What would You Do?: idk  Things You Obsess Over: columbine   Favorite Day of the Week: Friday  A Teacher You Hate: my pre calculus teacher   Favorite Disney Movie: princess and the frog   What Is Your Favorite Season? Summer  What Toppings Do You Like On Your Pizza?: Philly cheesesteak   Do You Like Your School Food Itself (As In The District Food): no  If You Could Live Anywhere, Where Would You Live?: idk  Favorite Thing(s) To Do On Weekends: sleep

 Favorite Thing(s) To Get Clean up: what  Favorite Magazine(s): I don’t read magazines

 Favorite Flower(s): dahlia  Favorite Number(s): 7  Favorite Ice Cream flavor(s): cookies and cream, cookie dough, and the pink circus animal cookies ANY COOKIE ICE CREAM

 What Kind of Guys/Girls Are You Attracted to?: my boyfriend   What’s Your Most Embarrassing Moment?: crashing out infront of everyone😔  If You Could Change One Thing About Yourself What Would It be?: my height  Do You Eat Breakfast First Then Brush Your Teeth or Brush first ten eat breakfast: brush teeth after

 Favorite Time of Day: 6pm  Can A Guy and Girl Be Just “Best Friends?”: Yes  Do You Ask The Girl / Guy Out Or Do You Wait For Them To Come To You?: wait  Do You Mind Paying For Sex?: ewwww  What’s The Most Important thing In Someone’s Personality: emotionally intelligent   Do you have a pager or cell phone?: yes  Favorite Sport: majorette  What Was the Best Gift You Ever Received? My car  How Long Did This Letter Take You To Finish?: i don’t know   What Did You Listen To While Completing It?: nothing

#tcc shitpost #tccblr #true cringe community #tcc fandom #tcc tumblr #tcc dylan #columbine 1999 #eric columbine #tc community #tcc edit

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brostateexam · 3 days ago

Note

Please tell me about your vacation boyfriends 🥺

I also wanna know what you’d want to teach as a professor!

I'm going to answer the second question first, cause it's a shorter and easier answer: when I was in undergrad, I really wanted to pursue a PhD in Social Psychology and be a college professor. Funding for the field is scarce in the US, but the prospect of ending up where funding for it does exist -- mostly the UK and Australia -- did not bother me in the slightest. The idea of moving far away and being a professional teacher and paper writer seemed amazing.

I did not do it because I felt that the competition in the field was stiff and that the most likely outcome would be that I end up a professor of Psych at a community college somewhere, or an adjunct to three different schools, making no money and living out of a car with 150,000 miles on it. While I don't exactly fault the logic of younger me, I do wish that the dream was more feasible, because I think I would have really enjoyed it!

As for the first question: I have been lucky enough to have three vacation boyfriends over the course of my life. Put some details under the cut.

Maui

I was in Maui for a work trip. It was a resort where we had villas and a budget of like $300/person/day for incidentals, so we were not exactly struggling. This is definitely top 3 for all the crazy, extravagant things that my company paid for. It was an excellent time.

And I really really wanted to escape and get laid while I was there, so I found a local who lived on the other side of the island from the resorts and started chatting with him every chance I got. Eventually, I snuck out of the work socializing I was supposed to be doing and met up with him for a walk around a beach on the far side of the island from where my colleagues were. Then we went to dinner, and we went home together afterward.

He was a former parks employee who had ocean creature themed tattoos all over his body. He was built like a swimmer, which made sense -- he swam or surfed basically every day, sometimes for hours on the weekends. He loved orchids and had an entire little homemade greenhouse of them in lieu of a garage in his small house on the island. Since he lived on the rainy side of the island, there was an evening rainstorm while we had sex, and it felt, well, romantic.

I was smitten, I must admit. I looked to see if there was any work I could do on the island -- I didn't tell him this because i was worried he'd think it was insane -- but there wasn't any, so the fun time ended when I left a few days after.

I messaged him out of the blue a few years after our initial encounter just so basically say that I thought he was amazing and to thank him, and he was super gracious and said similar nice things. Truly, just a gem of a guy. He is only still single because of where he lives -- if he moved to any place with civilization he'd be snapped up in a second, and rightly so.

2. Oahu

I had planned a trip to Waikiki with two friends for right around the winter holidays back when it was still summer and we thought to ourselves "it'll be nice to get to Hawaii when it's grey and rainy here every day." Plus, if you can believe it, it was actually very cheap to go to Hawaii at that time. Since the pandemic, everyone's figured out that the best thing for the winter blues is tropical sunshine and I think there's a boom in tourism in the winter now, too, but that didn't used to be the case.

I almost didn't go on the trip because about a month after we'd booked it, I lost my job, and I didn't have anything on the horizon at the time I went to Hawaii, which was nerve wracking. Unemployment runs out, after all -- and then what, you know?

Anyway, I wasn't really expecting to meet anyone while I was there, and I had the thought of like "even if I do, I'm sharing a hotel room with two girls so what exactly will end up happening?"

But I met someone who was in a bar nearby while I was out shopping, and he was just gorgeous. Also a traveler, like me, but he worked for a European airline and was based out of Malta. Big bear of a man with the second most well-groomed beard I've ever touched (best beard is its own story -- weird guy but great beard).

He was not gentle and he didn't lie to me -- I talked to him about being unemployed and he gave me good advice. I talked to him about my insecurities (being alone, being overweight, etc), and he gave me good advice that I still think about now, almost a decade later.

The sex was also absolutely fantastic, and we took the Lanikai Pillbox Hike together, which was one of my favorite memories of that trip, and there were a lot of good memories!

We did not meaningfully stay in touch. I got a job shortly thereafter and started working like crazy. By the time I thought to reach out, my old phone had died, frying all my contacts, and it had been nearly two years. It was very much a ships that pass in the night situation, but I'm very grateful that we passed near one another.

3. Taiwan

My work took my to Taipei semi-frequently for a period of about two years, and I met this guy there on my second trip. Every trip I was there was between 7 and 18 days, and since I was there to manage vendors, I would occasionally have time to myself, and not necessarily when you'd expect: mornings were usually reserved for meetings, and evenings for vendor dinners, but I often had afternoons to myself if I was smart about getting my work done quickly, and I was typically on my own after about 10 PM, and that was the perfect time to go on dates in Taipei. It's very much a late night city, like New York or (I'm told) Tokyo, with a whole culture that doesn't really get going until about 8 PM and stops at like 2 or 3 AM.

I met a local pretty quick, on maybe my second trip there. Like many young people trying to figure out their direction, he did a little bit of everything: he was a dancer, he did choreography, he served as a local guide/translator for when non-natives came to the island, and he was in school. He was also funny, and smart, and very understanding about my frankly insane and constantly changing work schedule.

So he became my Taipei boyfriend, for a while. When I was there, I'd go out to dinner with him, give him presents, hang out with him, watch movies with him, etc. I'd let him know when I was going to be in town, and we'd usually see each other 2-3 times per trip. We'd talk sporadically on WhatsApp when I wasn't there, but mostly we saved it for irl.

He clearly found it very fun to do super touristy things with me, like go to the 101 building or go to the bougie shave ice places that charge 3x more than the street vendors, and he was gorgeous and funny and fun and I liked having the arm candy, if I'm being honest. The sex was nice, but kind of beside the point. I just liked hanging out with him.

At some point, we transitioned to just being friends and the sex stopped, but it wasn't really weird or awkward -- that phase of the relationship just ended, and the rest remained.

I stopped going to Taipei during the pandemic when there was a travel ban, and I've never been back. I did talk to him during covid, though, and found out that he'd emigrated to Australia, where he was dating a former rugby player and was very happy to be out of Taiwan.

So there you have it! Sorry it took so long for me to write all this, and I hope it was worth the wait. Thanks for asking me this question. It was a ton of fun to write about.

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