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sunnykeysmash · 1 year

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the structure in mac and dennis break up

this is gonna be a short post tbh, I just rewatched the episode and I have a couple of thoughts.

if you need a refresher on what I think the structure is in general, I talk about it here.

I think Mac and Dennis Break Up shows us an example of Mac and Dennis (and Charlie and Frank) working properly in regards to the structure, let me explain why:

First... I don't think there's a need for me to describe the plot of the episode, we all know.

What I want to focus on, is that at one point Mac moves in with Frank and Charlie, and starts bringing his way of life to them.

At first, Frank is thrilled.

"I could use a little structure in my life here." he says.

This reminds me of dialogue from Carries a Corpse.

"Nobody admit this to Mac, but... I feel like he was carrying a ton of weight."

"That would be another one of his annoying identities... the man who could carry stuff."

He's been shown carrying Dennis, on top of generally being inclined to micromanage, take care of others so they're safe, and make decisions or at least demand to be consulted in them (like which movie to watch on movie night).

That's when Mac works best, so I assume that Mac generally brings structure (or is a man of action, as he describes it).

Later on, we see Mac take this too far, and Frank doesn't like it anymore. To me, this is because what this episode tells us is that Charlie and Frank don't work well with a set structure, the way that Mac provides. They're more free.

I think this reading is important because it shows me why The Gang Gets Romantic fundamentally fails in its objective (not as an episode god forbid, I mean in the narrative, especially for Mac and Dennis).

It applies the romcom structure to Charlie and Frank, while it doesn't to Mac and Dennis, when it should be the opposite. Throughout the episode we see that Mac and Dennis keep fitting the tropes to the romcom structure, but they refuse to follow it, and thus it crumbles. It can't work.

Here's another thing.

Dennis' back broke in the S15 finale.

That is funny, yes, but what does this mean when I say that Mac is the (his) structure, then?

Well... Carries a Corpse implies that Mac was carrying most of the weight of the corpse, and the corpse is meant to be the show... and most show meta is basically the same as Dennis meta (most meta lines seem to relate to him, whether the fact he left for north dakota and came back, or the fact he's a dad, being between life and death, breaking his back aka the structure, and so on), as I have discussed better in my other post.

Point being, Mac carries Dennis. That's what he's meant to do, and what he does best in their relationship.

This makes me think of another recent scene that I think is emblematic of their dynamic... but in an interesting way.

So, in 2020: a Year in Review, Mac and Dennis work together on a song.

They seem to be in harmony, but eventually start disagreeing and stop altogether to focus on something else. Why?

Because Dennis is working on the backup vocals, and Mac is working on the words. Which means their roles are reversed. Mac is supposed to be carrying the song, like the wind beneath his wings that he is, and Dennis, like the man of words that he is, should be responsible for the lyrics. They're doing each other's job, which means any harmony they reach is still bound to crack a bit the moment the song doesn't work for them.

Their seating position on their sofa reflects this.

Compare it to Mac and Dennis Break Up, which is supposed to be our ideal.

They're in each other's places, in 2020.

This isn't new, they've been sitting in each other's places ever since Break Up. Mac was sitting in Dennis' place in MFHP, Dennis was sitting in Mac's place in Gets Romantic.

So tl;dr... Mac and Dennis work well under structure, when Mac is the one to bring it and carry Dennis. They fit a proper couple structure after all. Charlie and Frank don't work as well under structure, since their relationship is more unique and doesn't quite abide by normal rules because of that.

This does bring me to one last consideration though...

They're back in their right spots, in season 16! Only problem is... couch is different. I would argue an inflatable couch doesn't offer the same amount of support (structure) that a normal one would...

Now that Dennis' structural essence broke, is he gonna feel what it's like when Mac is absent?

Perhaps this is why in Cursed we get Mac as the lucky one while the others as so unlucky they start to believe they're cursed (according to the synopsis...).

So the whole gang needs Mac?

Well...

In Goes To Hell pt2, when they build the human pyramid, it's both Mac and Dennis that end up at the bottom, as its structure.

So maybe... Dennis needs Mac as his structure, and the gang needs them to be in sync so they can both, together, support them (or shut the hell up about it, as both madbu and s15 would argue). Maybe this realization could be what brings the gang to work together in order to get them together. But that's getting into just speculation so imma end it here.

I like these thoughts though... Mac and Dennis being the foundation, the structure of the whole thing :)

#iasip #it's always sunny in philadelphia #s16 spoilers #always sunny #macdennis #macden #analysis #meta #this is as good as ''mac is the rat dennis is the cheese and together they're the trap of macdennis''#i do love building meta off of other meta that i pre-established... makes me feel like im citing my own research papers #if this only makes sense to me im so sorry my bad. it will happen again #this was born as a twitter thread while i rewatched madbu and things started making a bit too much sense so i had to write about it #i think if by the end of inflates they go back to their normal couch thats like golden sign that macden is going canon #cuz they maybe start experimenting different couches and none of them work for them. so they start blowing them all up #you know. like the stew!!! throwing it in the face instead of eating. using it wrong to get a thrill.#but by the end theyre like... no actually. our old one worked the best. for us. it worked. it supported us right #not flimsy like an inflatable couch is #so mark my words. if by the end of inflates we see macden sitting AT THEIR RIGHT SPOTS with THE RIGHT COUCH mirroring madbu...#then macdennis is gonna happen. period #dennis is gonna figure out that mac is his structure and theyre gonna go back. together. at the BOTTOM of the gang pyramid #getting pissed on together<3 like meerkats #dennis ''i aint goin down'' reynolds when hes destined to be part of the structural support and thus has to go down and stay down #dedicating this post to parker and joe they'll know what i mean #dennis reynolds #mac mcdonalds

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brightgnosis · 1 year

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I find it obscene.

People who ask you to ‘educate’ yourself while not having actually read any books themselves, while not being able to intelligently defend their own ideological positions, because by ‘educate,’ they actually mean ‘parrot what I say, flatten all nuance, wish away complexity.’

People who do not recognize that what they call a sophisticated take is really a simplistic mix of abstraction and orthodoxy – sophistication in this case being a showing-off of how au fait they are on the current version of ideological orthodoxy.

People who wield the words ‘violence’ and ‘weaponize’ like tarnished pitchforks. People who depend on obfuscation, who have no compassion for anybody genuinely curious or confused. Ask them a question and you are told that the answer is to repeat a mantra. Ask again for clarity and be accused of violence. (How ironic, speaking of violence, that it is one of these two who encouraged Twitter followers to pick up machetes and attack me.)

And so we have a generation of young people on social media so terrified of having the wrong opinions that they have robbed themselves of the opportunity to think and to learn and to grow.

I have spoken to young people who tell me they are terrified to tweet anything, that they read and re-read their tweets because they fear they will be attacked by their own. The assumption of good faith is dead. What matters is not goodness but the appearance of goodness. We are no longer human beings. We are now angels jostling to out-angel one another. God help us. It is obscene.

From It Is Obscene: A True Reflection In Three Parts; Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (My Ko-Fi Here)

* Pulled based on this post because the OP didn’t credit the original work properly, and I wanted to read the full context of the quote for obvious reasons; it should be noted that the Shinigami Eyes extension pings her as anti / red. This is partially explained (or spoken on) in the article.

#Quote #Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie #It Is Obscene: A True Reflection In Three Parts #Being A Better Human Being

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nohrianseneschal · 2 years

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Something Borrowed ch. 23 excerpted wip

The halls are quiet and black. Corrin finds it eerie and unusual for a hospital. Unused lights have been left off as a power-saving measure, according to the nurse. The motion sensor will catch her, and she should be fine. Yet only the bright beams jutting from beneath the many closed doors keeps Corrin steady, guiding her as she walks the speckled plaster floor. At times, a ceiling bulb would flicker on. At times, the motion sensors ignore her, and she’s left once more in the dark. The waxed sheen of the floors reflects the spilled-over light like silver ripples on a dark, watery surface.

Eerie.

And haunting.

The wing is quiet, she realizes, because it’s full of invalids at the brink of death. At night, the visitors would have all left by now. Only Corrin, followed belatedly by her husband, is left to find her way, contemplating how lonely it must be — left rotting from the inside in a sterile room with nothing but darkness to shroud over those final moments. This is where they come to die. This is where she comes to say goodbye.

The lights flicker back on when she arrives at his door. Room 707.

Immediately, she’s met with the rhythmic beeping of machines; the claustrophobic tangle of tubes and wires; and the white noise of a television set with its volume left nearly muted. Her father is a thin husk flattened on the bed, his bones and sallow skin overwhelmed by the intubator coiling like a snake over his mouth, devouring him as much as he devours it.

At the lobby, she was told to wait for the doctor. Now that she’s in the room, her first thought is, ‘Where’s Xander?’ Last she saw him, he was busy at reception trying to phone his father-in-law’s attorney and to contact whoever is the next of kin. His delay must mean that there is only one left — one person in the whole world whom Anankos can call family. She treads lightly, her feet shuffling as she holds her breath.

Hospital rooms for the dying are more crowded than she expects. There are more machines, more beeps, and more incomprehensible screens she can’t read, but she understands what they all mean.

“Hi dad,” she says, the hesitation shaking her voice.

Anankos doesn’t stir. Only the air pump that inflates with every inhalation from his body tells her that some life still lingers in him.

Vividly, she’s seized by a memory. She’s five years old. The living room is dark, and the TV is playing loudly. Her father is slumped over their secondhand couch, snoring from his seated position.

A slight whirr from the TV pulls her back, breaching the surface of murky memory until she’s gasping in the solemn hospital room. Just as suddenly, she’s staring before her machine-riddled father. His every breath is audible and laborious through the loud pump rising and falling next to him.

A single tear falls, rolling down from the curve of her cheek in a soundless drop. She hasn’t thought of her life before her parents’ divorce in so long, that she can’t be sure the memory she just saw is even real — if there ever was a time when the man before her felt anything like home.

Corrin stops just slightly before the bed, close enough to lay a hand on the metallic railing that keeps the cot propped up. She looks past the endless tubes, the plastic, and the flimsy tourniquet placed over his stomach, hiding the hole close to the base of his stomach where the cancer must have spread. She thinks about her mother — did she die like this? Numbed by morphine; left to slowly rot and necrotize as the cancer cells slowly eat up organs and tissue from the inside. Or did Mikoto die painlessly, quickly? Her life doused like the flame of a candle snuffed by a callous breeze.

She wants to apologize; to beg his forgiveness for having yelled at him those weeks before at the restaurant. Everything had happened so fast. She predicted years for the remainder of his life, not mere moments.

#my fic wips

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thebonerpit · 3 years

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cheerleader [FIC]

cheerleader

Rom Howney, 3896 words, [E], read on Ao3 here

A very seasonally appropriate fic in which Robert throws a Halloween party. Tom hates Halloween but decides to wear a costume he's wanted to try for years.

“I just don’t understand it.”

Tom frowns as he stares at the racks upon racks of zombies, clowns, vampires, and sexy nurses in front of him.

“I mean, to be fair, you don’t understand much of anything, do you mate?”

“Fuck off,” Tom says, whacking Harrison on the arm. “But seriously! Why do Americans go so absolutely mental for this stupid holiday?”

“Again, having trouble with the fact that you, an actor, who plays dress-up FOR A LIVING, doesn’t understand this. It’s not like this is any weirder than a fancy dress party. Plus, you get candy!”

Ok, he does have a point there.

Tom lets out a deep sigh. He wouldn’t even be bothering with all this if it weren’t for Robert. An invitation appeared in his inbox last week for a Halloween party, and when you’re invited to a Halloween party at Robert Downey Jr.’s house, you don’t turn it down. Even if Halloween is incredibly stupid. He shuffles along through the rows of costumes, rolling his eyes at werewolf masks and inflatable dinosaurs.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters. Harrison groans, his hands already full of the various parts of a Mad Hatter costume.

“Just pick something, who cares?!”

“There’s too many options!”

“Ok, look. Halloween is the chance to dress any way you want to and have no one judge you for it. Just think about that. What have you always wanted to be?”

Tom immediately knows what the answer is, but instead of replying he just huffs and turns down another aisle that’s covered in fairy wings and glitter. He can’t possibly do it. Especially not for this party. For Robert’s party. It would be… inappropriate. He rounds the corner again and is faced with a shockingly huge assortment of superhero costumes. A foam version of Thor’s hammer sits on the shelf to his right, and he smirks as he picks it up and gives it a good twirl.

“In your face, Hemsworth,” he mutters quietly.

There’s a whole row of different Spider-Man costumes which makes him smile, especially when he sees a flimsy synthetic fabric version of the Iron Spider suit. And right next to that – a placement that thrills him even more than the suit alone - are the Iron Man costumes. Plastic faceplates, arc reactor gloves with LED lights, fabric onesies with fake, puffy muscles sewn in… it’s all there. Tom runs a finger along the edge of the faceplate before snatching his hand away like he’s been burned.

It’s all he can think about, even as they leave the store after Harrison buys his costume and Tom walks out empty-handed. He thinks about it on the ride home and through dinner until he finally makes excuses and runs off to hide in his room, laptop in hand, and puts on Iron Man 2. It doesn’t take long to get to the scene he wants. Tony Stark, diving through fireworks, landing on a flashy stage, surrounded by his Ironettes. Tom bites his lip as he stares intently at the bright red booty shorts, the long gloves, the crop tops… maybe, if he altered it just a bit, if he wore the mask… He can already feel his face heating up at the prospect of walking into Robert’s house dressed like that. Would he laugh? Would he be weirded out? Or… would he like it? Tom pushes the laptop off to the side and lets the movie play as he touches himself, coming to the sound of Robert’s voice in his headphones.

* * * * *

Tom is going to throw up. It’s inevitable, at this point. He’s in the back of a car squished between Harry and Harrison and he’s going to throw up. His stomach is in knots and he can’t remember ever being this nervous in his life. He’s used to the fluttering before a big stage performance or audition, but those nerves are more like excitement. This is sheer terror and he is going to THROW UP.

“Can you calm down? Jesus, you’re going to ruin my costume if you don’t stop squirming!” Harrison jabs a sharp elbow into his side and Tom jerks away into Harry who pushes him back.

“I just… I need some air.”

“The windows are all open! Take the mask off!”

That is the absolute last thing he wants to do. He was only able to leave the house in this costume with the mask securely over his face and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to take it off. He must be red as a tomato.

“Look, we’re here!” Harry crows. The car finally comes to a stop and they all pile out. Tom wants to collapse on the soft grass but he’s pulled along by four strong hands.

“Maybe I should… Look, I’ll just wait out here for a bit, ok? I just need—”

“Nope, absolutely not. Look mate, we already told you, he’s going to love it. Maybe not in the way you want him to-“ Tom punches Harry in the arm for that “-BUT, regardless, he’ll love it. You look great. And this is coming from someone who never turns down an opportunity to tell you you’re an ugly twat.”

“That was… almost sweet,” Tom says, and then yelps as they both drag him inside.

The party is in full swing and is absolutely packed with people. Small groups are standing around chatting, all in costume, and a live band is playing in the huge backyard to a crowded dancefloor. Tom recognizes only a few people – it’s hard to miss Scarlett even when she’s dressed like Morticia Addams – but that doesn’t bother him. Normally he loves mingling and meeting new people, and even dressed as he is it’s still exciting. It’s even easier after he quickly downs a few strong drinks, careful to only pull up the mask as far as it needs to go. The urge to vomit has pretty much dissipated and he’s actually beginning to enjoy himself, twirling around the dancefloor like a maniac until he’s slightly sweaty and out of breath.

“Water break!” he yells to Harry and squeezes through the crowd of people to get some air and hydrate. He finds a relatively quiet corner where he can chug half a water bottle in peace and is enjoying the cool air on his skin when someone taps him on the shoulder. He startles and nearly drops the bottle but manages to save it before turning around.

“Nice catch.”

Oh fuck. It’s him. It’s Robert. He hasn’t seen him the whole evening and assumed he was off being a good host so the whole thing almost slipped his mind, but now it’s all rushing back and he has to grip on to the fence post beside him to steady himself.

“Love the costume. Not exactly how I remember the Ironettes looking but I gotta say, this might be an improvement.”

Tom nearly chokes. He decided he couldn’t pull off the real Ironette costume as the distinct lack of breasts made it look a little awkward. So, he improvised. The shiny red and gold booty shorts stayed, of course. They made his ass look incredible. He bought the long red and gold arc reactor gloves and the plastic faceplate from the Halloween store, and instead of heeled boots he found a pair of gold high-tops and knee-high red socks. The shirt was the most difficult part, though. He went through a few variations before settling on something cute and comfortable: a red, cropped tank top. It was a bit loose and thin, so it flowed around his chest nicely and was short enough to show off his abs and his tiny waist. He also managed to find an LED necklace to serve as his arc reactor. It glowed a soft blue through the thin fabric of the shirt. Overall, he’s incredibly proud of what he came up with. Especially for someone who hates Halloween.

And now, with the way Robert is staring at him, he’s VERY happy he was brave enough to wear it.

“Is there someone under that gorgeous mask? Or are you too shy to say hello?”

Tom steels himself, takes a deep breath, and pulls the mask off.

Robert’s face goes through a myriad of emotions almost all at once. Shock, delight, amusement, and what is unmistakably arousal.

“Well. Tom Holland. As I live and breathe.” His voice is lower than before, more intimate, and when he takes a step forward Tom swears he feels the temperature go up by at least two degrees. He also notices that Robert is wearing eyeliner. The black kohl makes his eyes look even more gorgeous, and then there’s the red glitter dusted across his cheeks and around his hairline that is giving him an almost eerie glow.

“What are you supposed to be, then?” Tom asks. Robert smirks and points to the two small horns sticking out from his hair.

“The Devil, of course.”

“Of course,” Tom repeats weakly. It was barely a costume, the deep maroon suit looking more like red carpet attire than anything else, but fuck it looked incredible on him.

“I am the purveyor of sin on this fine evening,” he says, gesturing to the party, “so I thought I’d play the part. But you… you look far more sinful than me.”

Tom squeaks as Robert steps even closer and taps at the arc reactor on his chest.

“Cute,” he murmurs.

“Just… just wanted to show you how much of a fan I am… Mr. Stark.”

Robert’s eyes snap up to Tom’s and he doesn’t think he’s ever been looked at so intensely in his entire life.

“Is that so… Mr. Parker?”

Tom whines, loud enough for Robert to hear it. His hand travels down Tom’s body to squeeze at the bare skin of his waist.

“I think—”

“Robert!!”

They both jerk back as if they’re waking up from a trance. Someone is yelling for Robert and waving him inside, and he acknowledges them with a quick gesture. Turning back to Tom, he licks his lips and leans in to whisper in his ear.

“I think we’ll have to continue this later. Don’t leave without saying goodnight. Alright?”

“Yeah. Yes. O-ok. See you later,” Tom stutters, and when Robert disappears inside he chugs the rest of the water bottle and collapses back against the fence to catch his breath.

* * * * *

All the telltale signs of a party winding down are there. Most people have left, the band has stopped playing leaving only some low background music emanating from the speakers around the house, and the guests that remain are splayed out on various couches and chairs, half their costumes missing and happily drunk. The kitchen is a disaster and Tom feels bad adding more bottles to the mess, but he’s on a mission and can’t stop to tidy. After his run-in with Robert he only saw him briefly a few more times, mostly through a massive crowd, but he didn’t forget his words from earlier.

Don’t leave without saying goodnight.

Harrison and Harry have already gone home. They tried to get him to come with but Tom pretended to be enthralled in a conversation and told them he’d catch up in a bit. Now he’s wandering the massive house, peeking into various rooms as he looks for Robert. He gave up on wearing the mask after they met in the yard so it’s pushed up on his head like some sort of strange visor, his curls a sweaty mess beneath it. The second floor is quiet and empty; no one really came up here during the party anyway so it’s also much cleaner. A set of closed double doors is in front of him, and it’s the only place he hasn’t looked, so…

Tom slowly opens one door and pokes his head inside. Robert is lounging on a massive bed, scrolling on an iPad, glasses perched on his nose. He’s still got the horns on his head, and when he glances up over the rim of his glasses to smirk at Tom, he really does look positively devilish.

“Found you,” Tom says, trying to appear completely casual when his heart feels like it’s about to explode from under his ribcage.

“So you did. Come in. Close the door.”

Robert makes no effort to move so Tom slowly walks over to the bed, suddenly very conscious of how tight his shorts are as Robert unabashedly roams over his body with hungry eyes. He stops at the edge and toes at the plush carpet with one foot.

“Have you been drinking?”

Tom nods.

“How much?”

“Not that much,” Tom replies, understanding what Robert is trying to ask. “But maybe just enough to give me some liquid courage.”

Robert raises an eyebrow but waits patiently for Tom to make the first move, only shifting slightly to drop the iPad and his glasses on the nightstand. Guess it’s now or never.

He kneels on the edge of the bed with one leg first, testing the waters. Robert stays perfectly still. A deep inhale to steady himself and then Tom goes for it, pushing up on the bed and straddling Robert’s lap. He hesitates for only a moment before settling right on the seam of those expensive maroon trousers.

A pleased hum rumbles out of Robert’s chest as he runs two smooth, warm hands up Tom’s spread thighs to his waist.

“My own personal cheerleader, hm? I always knew you looked up to me but I never expected this… Pete.”

He catches Tom’s eye and gives him a brief wink. Tom’s heart speeds up even more as excitement bubbles in his stomach. Playing. Robert is playing with him. He was desperately hoping he wouldn’t drop this, leave it as the brief tease it was back in the yard. Acting with Robert is one of his favourite things in the entire world, and being able to do it like this? God, for the first time he’s actually happy that Tony Stark is dead because he’s never going to be able to act across from him again without thinking of this moment.

Robert nuzzles into his neck and starts leaving wet, sucking kisses all along the line of his throat. Tom shivers at the sensation and then starts to giggle when the tickle of Robert’s beard is too much against his sensitive skin. Robert laughs into his neck and nips playfully.

“You’re so darn cute,” he whispers. Robert has always been free with his compliments, telling Tom he’s handsome or pretty or talented, but somehow it just hits different when his hands are also squeezing Tom’s ass.

“Want to touch you, Mr. Stark,” Tom murmurs into his ear, easily switching his accent to sound even more like Peter. He feels Robert shudder underneath him and can’t help the pleased smirk that crosses his face.

“Yeah?” Robert says, grasping his chin gently so he can look into his eyes. “Do you even know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

Tom absolutely knows what he’s doing, but Peter…

“I… uh… I was hoping you could teach me. I’m a really quick learner, sir,” he says softly.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Robert mutters, breaking character for a moment. He collects himself quickly though, shifting Tom in his lap just enough so he can undo his trousers and pull himself out. Tom’s mouth literally waters at the sight of Robert’s dick and he uses every ounce of willpower not to just pounce on him immediately.

“Want to feel your mouth, Pete,” Robert says, rubbing a thumb along Tom’s lower lip. “You can go slow. Use your tongue.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” Tom replies, trying not to sound too eager. He shuffles down a little and purposely sticks his ass up in the air. The red and gold shimmer on the shorts catches the dim light and he gives his hips a quick wiggle when he sees Robert staring.

“Maybe I should’ve reworked the design on your suit, hm? You like wearing little shorts like this?”

Tom nods and presses his face into the curls at the base of Robert’s dick, inhaling the scent of him. He feels the thick cock jerk against his cheek and angles his head to lick up the whole length of it, swirling his tongue at the tip. The bitter taste of precome blooms in his mouth and he moans, forgetting himself for a moment as he starts to give a much more experienced blowjob than what Peter would be capable of. Robert knocks the mask off Tom’s head so he can tighten his hand in his messy curls.

“Jesus,” Robert groans, “you’re good at this, kid.”

“Mmm, just want to make you feel good, sir,” Tom hums. He manages to remove one of the arc reactor gloves so he can grip Robert’s cock while he uses his mouth everywhere he can reach.

“Well, you’re doing a—fuck, god—a damn fine job.”

Tom thinks he could stay here forever, on his knees, mouth stretched almost painfully around Robert’s cock. He explores up his chest with his other hand, rubbing at one nipple with his thumb which makes Robert jerk underneath him.

“Keep doing that,” Robert spits out as he pushes Tom’s head down even further. He gags a bit but the incredible sensation of being stuffed and used overrides everything else and he takes every inch Robert gives him while tugging and pinching at his apparently very sensitive nipples. He drifts for a bit, so content and fuzzy, and only comes back when Robert pulls him off and throws him down on the bed.

“Pull up that shirt for me, sweetheart. Gonna paint your pretty chest with my come.”

“Oh my god, fuck, yes, please, please, want it,” Tom moans, shoving the fabric out of the way as Robert jerks himself off quickly above him. He can’t decide whether to watch his dick or his face when he finally comes, thick and white all over his chest and the arc reactor necklace. Robert’s slightly red in the face and gasping for breath as he steadies himself with a hand beside Tom’s head. Tom leans to the side to kiss at his knuckles and then dares to run his fingers through the come on the necklace and bring it to his mouth to taste.

“You’re going to give an old man a heart attack,” Robert says. His pupils are all blown out as he watches Tom hollow his cheeks as he sucks. Tom understands the feeling. He’s so hard in his shorts that it’s painful.

“Please,” he whispers, biting his lip, “will you touch me, Mr. Stark?”

“It would be a pleasure, Mr. Parker,” he replies. He palms him over the shorts which makes Tom buck into his hand. “As much as I love these… they have to go.”

The shorts are so tight that they both struggle to pull them down but finally they’re tossed off to a distant corner of the bedroom and Tom hisses as Robert immediately get his mouth on his cock. It feels absolutely heavenly, especially after being trapped in the confines of that uncomfortable fabric for so long. Robert takes his time, licks and sucks everywhere he can, all the way down to that sensitive spot right behind his balls. Tom whimpers as his tongue gets so fucking close to his hole but then pulls away.

“Want to use my fingers… s’that ok?”

“Y-yeah, please, yes!”

Robert grabs some lube from the nightstand and even warms it first before sliding one thick finger over Tom’s hole, pressing just the tip inside. Aside from the thrill of having Robert’s finger inside of him, the most incredible part is that he doesn’t stop sucking him off. The level of coordination is astounding and Tom would have complimented him on it if he was able to speak beyond moans and pleas for more. A second finger quickly joins the first and Tom’s body accepts it without hesitation.

“Good boy,” Robert murmurs in between gentle licks, “look at you, hm? So pretty and pink.”

Robert shifts him down a bit more which makes his legs fall open even wider. He feels so exposed and whines a little, trying to draw his knees close without squeezing Robert too much.

“Aw, don’t be shy sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” Robert says. “You can put your legs up on me if that helps, ok?”

He hears the rubber of his high-tops squeak against Robert’s skin and somehow the sound is more obscene than anything else. He tries not to thump his heels too hard but fuck, Robert is doing something with his tongue that should be illegal and Tom can’t stop squirming. A low chuckle reverberates against his stomach as Robert pulls off briefly, his fingers still working in slow, gentle pushes.

“Aren’t you sensitive, hm?”

“P-please, Ro—Mr. Stark, please, need to come,” Tom begs, accent slipping slightly as he tries to shove himself down even deeper on Robert’s thick fingers. He’s held in place by the firm grip of Robert’s other hand on his waist and he whines petulantly.

“Anything for my favourite little spider,” Robert coos. He crooks his fingers and Tom arches up off the bed like he’s been shocked. He feels like he’s been on the edge since they first met in the yard and now Robert’s fingers are pressing right on his prostate and his hot mouth is back on his dick and he doesn’t think he could possibly hold off any longer if he tried.

“Gonna… gonna…” Tom’s whole body is taut, like a wire ready to snap, and when Robert takes him all the way down his throat he comes with a ragged gasp. Distantly he thinks he should be considerate and pull out but it’s like his body isn’t under his control anymore, and even though he hears wet choking noises it seems like Robert is just fine with him coming in his mouth. His fingers have stopped moving and he lets Tom clench around them for a few moments before gently sliding them out. Tom whines at the loss even though he’s so oversensitive right now he couldn’t possibly take anymore.

After taking a minute to catch his breath and regain any semblance of normal brain function, he finally looks down. Robert’s eyeliner is smudged and Tom feels a bizarre sense of pride about it. He can’t stop running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair which is also a complete mess.

“Just FYI,” Robert finally says, his voice a little raspy, “you’re going to be finding red glitter in every nook and cranny for about three years after this.” He punctuates that sentence by rubbing his cheek against Tom’s thigh, grinning as he does it.

“You’re a dick,” Tom says fondly, giggling even more as Robert continues to just rub his face all over his body. “But can’t say I’m gonna care that much if I’m being reminded about this.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Robert says, that absolutely devilish grin returning, “I can give you more than just glitter for that.” Tom squeals as he starts sucking a deep bruise into the inside of one thigh, teeth marks and all, that Tom presses on every time he sees it for the next week.

#tbpwrites #rom howney #marvel rpf #nff #please do not expect this kind of consistency from me normally lol #usually it takes months in between fics!#but the fandom has been so lovely and active lately that it's inspired me #maybe i'll write some actual starker at some point and not just rpf

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whentherewerebicycles · 2 years

Text

i did some deeper digging earlier today to confirm that yes, all of this was sparked by an anonymous person reporting a second- or thirdhand rumor about an alleged groping incident that happened some indeterminate time in the past, and that this reporting of a rumor came immediately after other anonymous students in the chat began talking about how pushy and ambitious they found the student and how much they disliked him personally. that is what has singlehandedly led to student orgs releasing calls for the impeachment of a sexual predator, four students resigning from their positions, and every other student on the board being accused of being active enablers of rape culture (all of them are now facing impeachment next week).

MORE PROCESSING BEHIND THE CUT

i was reconstructing this for liz on the phone earlier and reading to her from the minutes the ringleader students have been circulating online, and she was like, “essentially they are saying they do not care about whether the process is just or unjust as long as it achieves what they consider to be ‘just’ ends.” and that’s it, right? they do not care if the process is unjust, and to some extent they seem to take gleeful pleasure in the extralegal / extrainstitutional power they are able to wield, knowing that they themselves will face zero consequences for the havoc they are wreaking on other people’s lives. i was looking through some of the tweets from the ringleader students as they tweet incredibly caustic, vicious things - laughing and making fun of the distressed reactions from the student gov kids who are being labeled rape enablers, and mocking every other kid who has tried to slow down the rush to judgment to try to figure out what the allegations even ARE and how they might be investigated. scrolling through their twitter threads i was thinking about this chimamanda ngozie adichie piece, which I posted in part a few days ago:

In certain young people today... I notice what I find increasingly troubling: a cold-blooded grasping, a hunger to take and take and take, but never give; a massive sense of entitlement; an inability to show gratitude; an ease with dishonesty and pretension and selfishness that is couched in the language of self-care; an expectation always to be helped and rewarded no matter whether deserving or not; language that is slick and sleek but with little emotional intelligence; an astonishing level of self-absorption; an unrealistic expectation of puritanism from others; an over-inflated sense of ability, or of talent where there is any at all; an inability to apologize, truly and fully, without justifications; a passionate performance of virtue that is well executed in the public space of Twitter but not in the intimate space of friendship.

I find it obscene.

There are many social-media-savvy people who are choking on sanctimony and lacking in compassion, who can fluidly pontificate on Twitter about kindness but are unable to actually show kindness. People whose social media lives are case studies in emotional aridity. People for whom friendship, and its expectations of loyalty and compassion and support, no longer matter. People who claim to love literature – the messy stories of our humanity – but are also monomaniacally obsessed with whatever is the prevailing ideological orthodoxy. People who demand that you denounce your friends for flimsy reasons in order to remain a member of the chosen puritan class. People who ask you to ‘educate’ yourself while not having actually read any books themselves, while not being able to intelligently defend their own ideological positions, because by ‘educate,’ they actually mean ‘parrot what I say, flatten all nuance, wish away complexity.’

i try to resist the impulse to paint gen z with a broad brush, because i obviously work closely with gen z kids year after year, and in my experience there are far, FAR more kids who are genuinely thoughtful, genuinely compassionate, and genuinely trying to be kind, which is all the more incredible to me given the toxic political, media, and social media landscape they’ve grown up immersed in. but also, like, i feel Troubled!!!!!!!! i feel like a lot of my teaching practice (particularly my pre-current-job teaching where i was doing more classroom work) is built around teaching compassion, and a lot of what i think about in my current job is teaching kids how to slow down the knee-jerk impulse to immediately judge, critique, and invalidate. but i just like.. i don’t know!!! it’s not enough!! I think i want to do some more thinking/reading/writing around how we teach kids (particularly college-age young adults) to navigate their social media environments and to engage with other people online. or something. I don’t know I’m too stirred up by this right now and need to sit and think with it some more.

but like… who we are online is who we are in life! online life is real life, too! our values online -- the way we talk to and about people, the way we treat others, the way we choose to engage with people -- deserves just as much care and reflection and introspection as we (ideally) accord to our 'real life’ behavior and our real-life treatment of people in face-to-face interactions. you can spout all the rigid ‘progressive’ orthodoxy you want but your words don’t matter - if you are saying the ‘right’ things while actively, gleefully doing harm to other people, that tells me all i need to know about who you are. WE ARE WHAT WE DO, NOT WHAT WE SAY!!!!! and also -- i know i need to develop this thought with some more nuance, but i feel strongly that it doesn’t MATTER if you are engaging with someone you view as having more power than you, or someone you view as less human than you, or whatever. the way you act reflects (and reveals) YOUR character. you are what you repeatedly do. if you are repeatedly caustic, horrible, cruel to people, mocking people online, acting like some people aren’t people, THAT is who you are, even if the people you are mocking or being cruel to are people you don’t see eye to eye with.

i scroll through these kids’ twitter accounts and i am just floored, in the worst possible way, by how much viciousness and caustic cruelty people are comfortable spewing out in their rush to make spaces “safer.” and they are 100000% comfortable describing a young Black man (who has committed four years in college to community service work, who ran on a platform of wanting to foster more peaceful dialogue between different student constituencies, and whose work in student government has been focused on creating a BIPOC-led student government that actively advocates for greater racial and socioeconomic parity in admissions and student support) as “the most dangerous person I have ever met.” OBVIOUSLY a strong record of doing really good advocacy work does not mean that someone cannot also have once groped someone, or engaged in other forms of sexual misconduct or even assault!! people can do good things and also do troubling things that they should be held accountable for, which may disqualify them from holding a leadership position! but like jesus christ!!!! YOU MUST INVESTIGATE!!!!! and WHY does it not seem to have occurred to ANYONE involved that the Black students involved in this (and the other students of color who have become embroiled in the controversy by association) might be particularly vulnerable to someone anonymously reporting unverified and non-specific allegations about sexual misconduct (which conveniently cannot be investigated) in a space that is very publicly open & and advertised to literally ANYONE on or off campus!!! i feel like i’m losing my mind oh my fucking god

#i swear i will stop talking about this eventually but #i need to emotionally process it's making me feel unhinged

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jungshookz · 4 years

Text

Halloween in CeeWorld

I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to post this.

These drabbles were in Cee’s drafts, so... if I wasn’t supposed to post this, blame it on Y/N.

Enjoy. Or not. It doesn’t really matter to me.

the little ghost (ceo!yoongiverse)

“alright, let’s get this quarantine hwalloween party started!” you clap your hands together as you step into the living room before rubbing them together excitedly, “is everyone excited??”

“as excited as i’ll ever be,” jungkook huffs as he leans back against the sofa chair, “i can’t believe we’re celebrating halloween indoors like a bunch of losers-”

“you’re very much welcome to leave-” yoongi butts in, “and then stay isolated in your own apartment for two weeks after you’re done partying as part of the safety protocol-”

“quick question- why does jungkook get to be the one with the goggles?” jimin gets up from the couch before putting his hands on his hips, “i look way hotter in them-”

you frown lightly before rolling your eyes, “does it matter who gets the goggles-”

“yeah! the goggles ties the entire costume together-”

you and yoongi exchange knowing glances when jungkook and jimin start to bicker over who should get the goggles and you know that if you don’t cut it off right now that they’ll continue to argue until the end of time

“where’s my little ghost?” you interrupt loudly, cupping both hands around your mouth as a makeshift megaphone, “oh, spooky little ghost...”

a moment of silence ticks by and suddenly-

the sound of rapidly approaching little footsteps echoes down the hallway and you grin excitedly, dropping down onto your knees before reaching up to adjust the inflatable proton-pack you have on your back

pap-pap-pap-pap

hwayoung bursts out into the living room wearing a plain white sheet with two holes cut out for her eyes and you feel your heart basically bust out of your chest

you already saw her in her costume earlier when you were getting her ready but

god

it gets you every single time!

you were debating on cutting two holes for her pigtails but then you’d figure she’d look less spooky that way

anD you were going to cut two holes for her arms but that would completely ruin the look of the costume as well

everyone knows ghosts don’t have arms or ponytails

“ᶦ ᵍᵒʰˢᵗ, ᵐᵃᵐᵃᵎ” hwayoung practically ramS her little body directly into you and you laugh lightly when she bounces up and down on the balls of her feet

she leans forward to boop her nose against yours through the sheet, “ᶦ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗ!”

“oh my god-” yoongi snorts, bringing his hand up over his mouth when hwayoung blinks up at him through the sheets, “that’s… that’s hilarious.”

holy shit

that’s so cute

“i have to admit, i thought a blanket ghost was a lazy costume idea, but-” jungkook nudges you aside before looking down at hwayoung with a grin, “look how cute she looks!”

“i know!” you clap your hands before letting out a sigh, “it was actually pretty hard cutting out the eyeholes into two perfect circles.”

“aw, now i’m sad that we don’t get to go trick or treating! we would look so good walking out on the streets-” jimin groans, reaching down to pat the top of hwa’s head, “the ghostbusters with this little itty bitty super scary ghost-”

“ᵇᵒᵒᵎ” hwayoung sticks her arms out from under the sheets and you let out an exaggerated gasp as if she actually scared you

(you don’t miss the way jungkook jumps but you choose not to point it out)

“okay, now what do you say?” you get up off the ground, everyone immediately going off to their designated candy stations at your signal

yoongi’s in the kitchen, jungkook’s in the laundry room, jimin’s in hwa’s bedroom, and you’re the lucky one who gets to accompany your daughter on her candy-collecting journey

“do we know if hwa’s allergic to peanuts yet?” jungkook pokes his head around the corner before holding the bag of mixed candies up, “i think i should eat all the reese’s peanut butter cups just to be safe-”

“ᵗᶦᶜᵏ ᵒʰ ᵗᵉᵃᵗᵎ”

“nuh-uh-” yoongi opens the kitchen door, “what do we really say?”

hwayoung pauses and you frown lightly as you think about his question as well

what does he mean what do you really say?

you really say trick or treat when you go trick-or-treating

what else are you supposed to say??

hwayoung suddenly perks up and reaches up to wrap her hand around your pointer finger to get your attention

you look down at her, “yes?”

“ᵗᶦᶜᵏ ᵒʰ ᵗᵉᵃᵗ ᵖᵉᵃˢᵉᵎ”

“trick or treat, pleas-” you turn around to send yoongi a playful glare, “yoongi, no one says please when they go trick or treating-!”

“we’re not raising an animal, y/n-!”

hello, playboy (secretary!yoongiverse)

yoongi doesn’t really understand why halloween is such a big deal

he’s pretty sure it’s just an excuse for people to go out half-naked anD for people to get completely wasted without being judged

sure, he supposes it can be fun for people to dress up and stuff, but at the end of the day, think about it!

you’re wasting money on a costume that you’re literally only going to be wearing ONCE a year and then you’re probably never going to wear it again because you can’t wear the same costume twice in row because everyone knows that’s lame

he’s, personally, never had to worry about costumes before because he literally?? doesn’t dress up or do anything for halloween

but things have changed now that you’re the boss

and one of those things is celebrating halloween with a fun costume party

admittedly, he enjoys company parties because he gets to drink free booze and eat free food all night (last year they served these mini buffalo chicken sliders at the christmas party and he still dreams about them from time to time)

and yeah, it’s nice getting to mingle with his colleagues and not having to worry about any office work

but costume parties are so lame!

he knows you’re only throwing it because you’re trying to prove to people that you’re a fun boss, but if anything, this costume party will make people think you’re trying too hard to be a fun boss, ultimately making you the lamest boss ever

...no offence, obviously

he tried to explain that to you because he,,. really doesn’t wanna see you get hurt again but if there’s one thing that he’s learnt about you, it’s that you’re very stubborn

anyways

he’s waiting for you because you’re changing into your costume in your office and then the two of you are going to head up to the rooftop together

“yoongi, i need you to-” yoongi looks over when you open your office door slightly before sticking your head out, “is that your costume?”

yoongi reaches up to brush his fingers over the flimsy devil’s horns he clipped into his hair before nodding, “yeah. i’m a demon. duh.”

“that’s… yeah, those are devil horns, alright,” you snort, “you didn’t even- c’mon, you’re still wearing your clothes from work-”

“then i’m a secretary from hell.” yoongi lowers his voice before wiggling his fingers spookily, “what did you need me to do?”

“i can’t zip my dress up. do you mind…?” you ask sheepishly and yoongi nods and turns to shut off his monitor seeing as you guys are almost ready to go

“sure thing. also, just a reminder that the party started, like, ten minutes ag- woah.” yoongi turns back around and feels his mouth go dry when he sees the costume you’re in

hello, playboy

he didn’t know that this was the costume you were going with

holy shit

the little black satin dress that you’ve got on is hugging your figure in a way that he’s,.., never seen before,..,

and you usually wear heels to work but these stilettos are making your legs look,.,. wow

black stockings usually aren’t the first thing he thinks of when he thinks sexy but you are most definitely changing his mind about that

“eh, it’s fine.” you sigh before spinning around and moving your hair to one side, “i don’t think anyone cares if i’m even at the party or not, anyway.”

yoongi swallows thickly when he notices the little cotton tail that’s glued onto the back of the dress

nice touch

very nice touch

his brain is telling him to move but he finds that he’s frozen to the spot as his eyes slowly trail up your bare back

you turn your head to glance at yoongi over your shoulder, “yoongi?”

he’s always thought that you were pretty, so that’s not something that’s suddenly being revealed to him or anything

and he’s always thought that you were cute (especially when you make a fool out of yourself trying to get his attention)

but this?

you look… sexy.

really, really sexy.

“yes! sorry, i just- that’s-” he clears his throat and shakes himself out of it, “that’s not true…” he steps forward before gently taking the zipper, “i would care if you weren’t there.”

the zipper glides smoothly against the silky satin as he pulls upwards, yoongi making sure not to snag any loose strands of hair or anything along the way

jesus christ

and you smell good, too

“okay, you’re good.” yoongi steps back and folds both his hands in front of him, “zipper’s, uh, good to go.”

“thanks- also, you’re only saying that because you have to.” you turn around before rolling your eyes playfully

“saying what?”

“that you’d care if i wasn’t at the party.” you repeat, reaching up to adjust the little collar you’re wearing around your neck, “i know everyone hates me, yoongi. you don’t have to sugarcoat it.”

“i’m not sugarcoating it!” yoongi scoffs, watching you struggle with the buttons in your cuffs for a moment before automatically reaching out to help you, “…and who cares what they think, anyway? at the end of the day, you’re the boss.” he nods firmly, looking up at you, “now lemme hear you say it.”

you chuckle nervously before looking away, “i’m not gonna-”

“come on...” your heart skips a beat when yoongi hooks a finger under your chin to turn your head back to face him, “just once? for me?”

god

he really knows how to pull your strings, doesn’t he?

you let out a sigh

“i’m the boss.” you mumble sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck

you’re the boss

...you’re the boss.

you have the power to fire all of these people. (not that you’re going to, but... you know)

so why are you so scared of them??

your brows knit together and you stand up a little straighter, “yeah… i am the boss…!”

“that’s right!” yoongi chirps, nudging you aside so he can quickly turn your office lights off and shut the door for you, “now, we’re going to go up to the party and we’re going to have a good time and you’re not going to sit there worrying about what other people think about you-”

“yeah! i’m not!” you grin, reaching up to fix the bunny ears sitting on your head

yoongi smiles before holding his arm out for you, “c’mon, bunny. let’s go show everyone who’s boss.”

sweeter than frosting (lveb!jooniverse)

“i’m back!”

you look up from your mixing bowl when you hear the front door slam shut

yoongi glances over his shoulder before looking back at you, “are we really going to spend the entire day baking?”

you nod before shrugging as if telling him that it is what it is

you usually get a lot of orders whenever it’s a holiday, and halloween is no different because,.,. duh

halloween parties all over the city!

the thing is, you didn’t think that you’d get a lot of orders this year because of social distancing and all of that, but you were sorely mistaken

you have forty-five orders today and you’re pretty sure you’ve bitten off way more than you can chew

your average is like fifteen orders a day

obviously you’re super grateful for the business because money is good and nice and helps to pay for bills or whatever but

woW

these are a lot of orders!!!!!

and you have to do everything by yourself!!

yoongi’s actually supposed to be helping you, but his version of helping you is sitting on his ass and occasionally handing you a tool every now and then

at one point you asked him to hand you a piping bag and he handed you a spoon which??? how?? did he even???

how did he mix up piping bag and spOON

he also eats whatever leftover bits you shave off the top of a cake or whatever frosting is unused

so, all in all... not very helpful.

it’s nice to have company, though!

yoongi even suggested to put on a spooky movie to keep the two of you somewhat in the holiday spirits while you work your butt off

he insisted that you guys watch something really scary and super bloody so he’s.,,. not entirely sure how you ended up convincing him to watch wallace and gromit: the curse of the were-rabbit

“how’s it going in here?” namjoon steps into the kitchen and almost instantly the corners of your mouth turn up in a bright smile

he offered to be one of your delivery boys today to help out and you would’ve jumped his bones right then and there if it weren’t for the presence of yoongi and hoseok in the living room

he’s just!!!!

he gets more and more perfect every single day :’)

“going okay...” you gesture to the multiple mixing bowls around the kitchen, “halfway done!”

“mm, would you look at that.” yoongi mutters to himself as he keeps his eyes glued on the laptop screen, “that is indeed a were-rabbit...”

“are you- are eating the frosting or are you helping y/n frost the cupcakes?” namjoon pauses to look at the bowl that yoongi has cradling to his chest, yoongi humming as he sucks off the remainder of the frosting off his spoon

“eating!” “helping.”

both you and yoongi speak up at the same time and you two look at each other before exchanging knowing glances

“eating.” “…yeah. eating.”

yoongi leans over to pause the movie before turning in his stool to look at namjoon

“waht are you thuppothed ta be?” yoongi asks, the spoon hanging from his mouth carelessly as he turns to look at namjoon

namjoon perks up when he realizes that he must be referring to his super fun halloween costume

he reaches up to brush his fingers over the little beansprout clip he has in his hair with a grin, “a sprout!”

he was trying to think of a creative plant-based costume but there weren’t a lot of options for grown adult men like himself

there was a broccoli costume that he could’ve pretended was a tree, but… it’s very clearly broccoli

so this was the next best thing!

and it was pretty cheap too, so that’s a bonus

“i think it’s cute.” you giggle, leaning up to press a kiss to namjoon’s cheek, “very cute!”

“mm, i think you’re cute-” namjoon grins cheekily, slinking an arm around your waist and pulling you in closer so that you can give him a proper kiss

“-!”

yoongi immediately groans and looks up towards the ceiling, “god, you guys are sick-”

“uh, says the one eating frosting by the spoonful-“ namjoon pulls away for a split second and laughs lightly when you turn his head to get him to kiss you again

heh

:-)

wa-hoo! [roommate!taehyungiverse]

“alright, people, let’s get this show on the roa- oh, jesus-!” namjoon immediately spins around as soon as he barGEs into the apartment, his face going bright red

he just got a very good look at taehyung’s bare ass which was the last thing he was excepting when he walked in here

well

maybe not the last thing he was expecting

“what the fu- ever heard of ringing the bell?!” taehyung rolls off of you before pulling his overalls up so that namjoon doesn’t see both his ass and his dick in the span of three seconds, “this isn’t even your friggin’ apartment anymor-” he turns to look at you, “hey, why does namjoon still have a key, anyway?”

you get up off the couch before pulling your skirt down a little, “in case we both lose ours! he’s also my emergency contact number.”

“okay, but- wait, why aren’t i your emergency contact number?” taehyung frowns, placing both hands on his hips

…

“okay, we don’t have time to do couple’s counselling- are you two ready to go or not?” namjoon turns his head a little to make sure that everyone’s clothed and no body parts are carelessly hanging out

phew

he’s in the clear

oh, jesus

what makes things worse is the fact that you guys are dressed up as mario and luigi

THEY’RE BROTHERS

AND BROTHERS DON’T DO WHAT YOU GUYS WERE JUST DOING

“yeah, yeah, we’re ready to go-” taehyung raises a brow as he sticks his green hat back on, “why are we even going barhopping anyway? it’s not going to be fun having to get our temperature checked every time we go into a building-“

“it’s halloween!” you hand him his mask (you guys stuck the moustaches onto the mask, which you think is a pretty clever way to deal with the whole mask wearing situation) “and now that conditions are slightly better, we have to take advantage!”

“c’mon, mario, get your heels on-” namjoon claps his hands to get your guys’ attention, “i’m parked out front and i do not want my car getting towed-”

“okay, gimme a sec-” taehyung gives your bum a swat when you bend over to step into your heels and you let out a gasp as you shoot straight back up with pink cheeks, “taehyung!”

“what?” taehyung raises both his hands in defence, “i couldn’t not smack it-”

namjoon’s face twists in discomfort

he’s completely fine with the pda

what he’s bothered by are the costumes and the mental image of luigi smacking mario’s ass that’s now burned into his mind forever

he’s… going to stay away from super smash bros for a while.

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unfamiliarize · 3 years

Text

And in a deluded way, you will convince yourself that your hypocritical, self-regarding, compassion-free behavior is in fact principled feminism. It isn’t. You will wrap your mediocre malice in the false gauziness of ideological purity. But it’s still malice. You will tell yourself that being able to parrot the latest American Feminist orthodoxy justifies your hacking at the spirit of a person who had shown you only kindness. You can call your opportunism by any name, but it doesn’t make it any less of the ugly opportunism that it is.

...

I find it obscene.

And so we have a generation of young people on social media so terrified of having the wrong opinions that they have robbed themselves of the opportunity to think and to learn and to grow.

—Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, It Is Obscene: A True Reflection In Three Parts

#chimamanda ngozi adichie #outrage culture #purity culture #the shouting class #haters #arrogance #self righteousness #feminism #nuance

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

Queen Takes

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: M Word Count: 1938

Summary:

With Beth home from Moscow, her friends gather to celebrate her achievement. One guest arrives late.

The colour of Kentucky feels like a trick after Moscow. Her blue home—her mother’s home—is a playhouse, not the American standard it’s masquerading as. Sure, Russia with its cold, with its blacks and browns across the walls of the hotel where she stayed and on the jackets of the old men in the park, is striving for a monopoly on drab stoicism, but Beth Harmon passed her early years in a trailer as silver as a bare tin can. You can find barrenness anywhere, even inside a person.

Across the coffee table, Jolene looks back at Beth like she knows what she’s thinking, those morbid thoughts. Beth can hear the smooth crack of her friend’s voice in her head. It’s… comforting, the sense that someone can simultaneously have no time and all the time in the world for her. Jolene’s eyes don’t tell her she’s a fool for taking so long to recognize love or a genius for refusing the draw (plus everything before and after)—they just say, nice dress. Subtly, Beth raises her Coke and inclines it towards her friend. Thanks.

Matt and Mike are keeping her living room balanced, one twin on either couch. Harry’s moving his hands with precision and intensity as he reiterates the brilliance of Beth’s endgame over Borgov, though Jolene is laughing at him, laughing in airy howls, because she has no interest in chess. Unlike Alma/Mrs. Wheatley/Mother, Jolene does not possess the patience to sit and listen while Beth unravels her win, move by move. How different is a friend from a sister, a sister from a mother, a mother from another mother again. This is fine. Beth, smiling, admires her guests and accepts that she has quite enough chess-lovers in her life.

There’s a knock at the door.

Jolene’s laugh cuts off like there should be a blade dangling in midair.

“Well,” she says to Beth, “go get him.”

“He’s worse than any of these three,” Beth warns with a smile, stalling and hopefully concealing the waver in her words, hands, and heartbeat.

“I’m anticipating a sanctimonious pain in the ass, and that’s just from the articles I read about you playing him.”

“You could’ve met him in New York,” Mike says as Beth gets a grip on herself and the couch, pushing up and striding with sudden purpose to the front door.

“Fight New York City traffic in my nice car? Just to sit in some dirty concrete basement? All of you talking nothing but chess?” She huffs a laugh from her nose. “Even when I was an orphan, I had better things to do than that.”

Beth’s heart is doing something painful and distracting in her chest and she misses any rejoinder the boys might have made, though she wouldn’t advise one. Very few people are so much their own person as Jolene is. Very few. Her hand is clammy on the knob as she takes hold and swings the door open. He doesn’t speak, and yet she hears, again, his voice down the long, long line, reaching her in her hotel room the night before the final. He doesn’t even smile.

“Benny,” Beth breathes, and collapses into him when he greets her with a startling kiss that captures the remainder of her oxygen. Her eyebrows raise when he pulls back. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

His gaze dips down to her dress and back to her face. Now, he smiles.

“I guess I’m playing white.”

She narrows her eyes.

“What happened to determining sides with an impartial method?”

“Don’t have any pieces on me to hide in my hands. You wouldn’t happen to have a board in the house, would you?”

Beth smiles again and holds the door wide to let Benny enter her home. She sees his car tucked against the curb out front. Likely, it contains his hat. His head is uncovered.

“And that was fair, by the way,” he whispers as she walks him into the living room. “When have you known me to skip a chance at making the first move?”

With the addition to the party, there are fresh drinks to be poured, trips to the bathroom to be taken, and things are shuffled around some until Jolene joins Beth on one couch, the twins and Benny opposite. He’s slung his leather jacket over the back of the couch and elects to sit forward. With his elbows braced on his thighs in this way and fingers intertwined in the space between, he could be contemplating one of their many games. But it’s her he looks at—staring straight across with a steadiness she can’t match in front of the others.

Jolene and Benny swap remarks, her judgements a strange and wonderful counter for the way he has always spoken in foregone conclusions. She calls him by his full name every time, just the way she told Beth she read it. As the afternoon stretches and Jolene’s career ambitions take their place in the conversation, Benny begins to call her ‘Esquire’. Beth looks on warily. Jolene breaks into a slow smile and nods her permission with a proud bob of her chin.

They bring out the cake she’s been pretending not to know about. Once, on a plane, she told her mother that a Houston tournament would take first place in her life’s Christmases; well, this feels like the best birthday she’s ever had and she doesn’t even have to age for it. Beth only cries at moments of excruciating frustration or when she is ambushed by emotion, no escape route of three moves prepared, so, naturally, the tears spill over.

“You. You did this,” Jolene insists, firm hold on her shoulders as she rocks Beth side to side on the couch.

Beth can only sniffle and smile down at the cake, chocolate, as Benny wields a knife (from a drawer in the kitchen) to slice uneven pieces. It’s heavenly. Despite high hopes of leftovers and sending each guest home with a slice, the six of them devour the cake. Harry chases the last crumbs around his plate, Matt groans and kicks his feet up on the table in search of relief for his overstuffed stomach, and Beth lies on the floor, raking her fork lazily through the icing before raising it to her lips and licking the tines clean. It’s only the pleasure of the day she means to extend with this exercise, but she can feel Benny’s eyes on her. Black makes its opening move.

She hugs each of her friends at the door as they drag themselves away. The alternative is to risk passing out across her chic living room set, and she hasn’t offered to let them stay. If any of them asked, she certainly would, but no one is at a loss for where they’ll be spending the night and they’re all—Beth knows—too aware of the car parked out front with the New York plates to want to intrude.

“You’re a queen,” Jolene says. She’s the final person to fold her into a hug. “You deserve this and more. And I bet,” she adds, dropping her voice so it’s just for Beth, not Benny, standing at the picture window and watching the boys drive away, “tonight’s going to feel even better than when you wiped Ohio with his skinny ass. Or whatever the hell happened between the two of you since then.”

Beth draws back, hands still on her friend’s waist, and gives her a look.

“Please,” Jolene begs, “it’s obvious. You’re World Champion and I am staring at the only thing Benny Watts wants to win.” She leans in with a conspiratorial smile. “This and more, Cocksucker.”

Laughing out loud, they break apart. Beth’s flushed as she waves from the doorway, arm making a wide sweep over her head, tears of gratitude welling up as her friend peels away. She dabs beneath her eyes with her fingers. She shuts the door. She flicks her eyes to Benny as she sidles around the little bit of wall separating the living room from the front room, dominated by her mother’s piano.

“I threw up in that one,” Beth volunteers, pointing out a silver cup trophy to Benny as he turns from the window. He shoots her a critical look.

“And the papers all say you’re so glamorous.”

“Everyone’s different in their own home.”

Benny gives a sideways nod to concede this.

“You’re different, I think,” she ventures. She’s less sure now, skirting the piano to come closer to him. “Like you might actually sit down.”

“I sit down,” he protests.

“For something other than a journalist.”

“I sat on your couch for hours.”

“Like you might actually stay.”

Him not entertaining her with flimsy attempts to leave, to find a hotel for the night, was his move. This boldness is Beth’s. Will he laugh at her? He could. She wonders if Harry ever mentioned to Benny that he did a stint as her roommate.

“Are you going to pull something inflatable out of someplace and condemn me to blowing it up?”

She laughs under her breath.

“No. You’re welcome to come upstairs.”

There are dishes, a light left on in the kitchen, but this mess is unlike what she did to the space herself while drunk. This scene is simply lived-in. Beth ignores the dishes and the light, eyes locked on Benny. It isn’t ‘now or never’ with him like it was with Harry—with Benny, it’s then and again. He brushes by her at the piano, the way he would in his New York apartment before they began sleeping together; the more he made sure not to touch her, the smaller the space felt. The near-collisions alone nearly drove her mad, she didn’t need chess for that. But when he’s almost past her, his fingertips connect with her skin and trickle down her arm to take her hand. Beth exhales with a smile. His middlegame remains the least predictable stage of his play.

Though she’s made the master bedroom her own, she turns the other way at the top of the stairs, right instead of left, wanting to show him where she studied and learned. He lets himself be pushed back onto her flowered bedspread. She indicates the torn mesh canopy overhead as she staggers forward on her knees to sit astride him and he hikes the black dress up her thighs. As he reaches for her back and unzips her—Beth tilting accommodatingly towards his chest—she talks ceiling visualization. How she found it, how she mastered it, how she got it back in Moscow. She waits for Benny to parrot her annoyance over discussing chess at a time like this, but he wears an empathetic smirk. Following leisurely minutes of undressing each other—“Slow down, Harmon, this isn’t speed chess”—that smirk is just about all he wears.

His necklaces glide across her chest as he kisses her neck. When he slips his hand between her legs, she invokes touch-move, insisting he finish what he’s started. Play progresses from there. This is all mine, she thinks, feeling Benny, denting a pink pillowcase with her clutching hands.

They’ve written her up as someone who attacks early and with ferocity. She lunges and thrusts, she likes control. ‘Out for blood,’ ‘killer instinct’—they make her something more than human. In her time, she’s been a talent, a prodigy, a virtuoso, a wunderkind. All of that’s become a bit mechanical. Have they forgotten, or have they never understood? Beth swipes her fingers through Benny’s hair as they catch their breath.

Chess can also be beautiful.

#my writing #The Queen's Gambit #Beth Harmon #Benny Watts #beth x benny #I haven't jumped fandoms in almost a year so it was about time

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settledthingsstrange · 3 years

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In certain young people today like these two from my writing workshop, I notice what I find increasingly troubling: a cold-blooded grasping, a hunger to take and take and take, but never give; a massive sense of entitlement; an inability to show gratitude; an ease with dishonesty and pretension and selfishness that is couched in the language of self-care; an expectation always to be helped and rewarded no matter whether deserving or not; language that is slick and sleek but with little emotional intelligence; an astonishing level of self-absorption; an unrealistic expectation of puritanism from others; an over-inflated sense of ability, or of talent where there is any at all; an inability to apologize, truly and fully, without justifications; a passionate performance of virtue that is well executed in the public space of Twitter but not in the intimate space of friendship. I find it obscene. There are many social-media-savvy people who are choking on sanctimony and lacking in compassion, who can fluidly pontificate on Twitter about kindness but are unable to actually show kindness. People whose social media lives are case studies in emotional aridity. People for whom friendship, and its expectations of loyalty and compassion and support, no longer matter. People who claim to love literature – the messy stories of our humanity – but are also monomaniacally obsessed with whatever is the prevailing ideological orthodoxy. People who demand that you denounce your friends for flimsy reasons in order to remain a member of the chosen puritan class. People who ask you to ‘educate’ yourself while not having actually read any books themselves, while not being able to intelligently defend their own ideological positions, because by ‘educate,’ they actually mean ‘parrot what I say, flatten all nuance, wish away complexity.’ People who do not recognize that what they call a sophisticated take is really a simplistic mix of abstraction and orthodoxy – sophistication in this case being a showing-off of how au fait they are on the current version of ideological orthodoxy. People who wield the words ‘violence’ and ‘weaponize’ like tarnished pitchforks. People who depend on obfuscation, who have no compassion for anybody genuinely curious or confused. Ask them a question and you are told that the answer is to repeat a mantra. Ask again for clarity and be accused of violence. (How ironic, speaking of violence, that it is one of these two who encouraged Twitter followers to pick up machetes and attack me.) And so we have a generation of young people on social media so terrified of having the wrong opinions that they have robbed themselves of the opportunity to think and to learn and to grow. I have spoken to young people who tell me they are terrified to tweet anything, that they read and re-read their tweets because they fear they will be attacked by their own. The assumption of good faith is dead. What matters is not goodness but the appearance of goodness. We are no longer human beings. We are now angels jostling to out-angel one another. God help us. It is obscene.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

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vndic-a · 4 years

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.☄ ° ゜ it was a shitty reunion but knox had gotten so used to those they hardly phased him anymore. still, concern drew his brows close together over his eyes as he approached. ❝ y'look like you got hit by a bus, what happened ? ❞ ⇢ @alleyspat

𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 they may stay shut the very next time they close, right side swollen by a furious gash that’s inflated the skin surrounding. he feels like he got hit by a bus, on a dark night without any lights, in any way you can somehow let a bus blindside you. the stitching is fresh. the gauze has begun to soak, coagulating to the corners and gaps in the open wound. he is drained in his dull eyes, in the hunch of his shoulders and the silence that follows his acquaintance’s comment.

his mind hasn’t been cognizant of time, of his own life, in a week. it isn’t his. everytime he sleeps or rests his eyes for more than a moment, he’s in that basement again ; there is the sensation of a cold knife in his palm. there’s a flimsy plastic holding the handle together. it’s a craft knife, it isn’t meant for much more than slicing boxes or being used as a basic tool. he presses the bolt between his thumb and index finger and feels the way it stresses and bends. in that poorly lit slate - grey there is a body that watches him. the walls are concrete and the area is busy with plain wooden tables and tens of half - formed clay heads. a silhouette, standing behind them. tall and the width of it suggests it may wear a coat, but it’s big and broad. he can’t see the eyes but he feels it, knows it’s looking. he can’t see the face --- but for the brief flash as it runs, sprints through a beam of moonlight splitting through dingy windows flanking the room. large shadows casting over the room envelope him and launch him further in bursts, shadow cutting through shadow. he chases because he always does, because he’s come so close to recognizing that face and each time feels like he might just shout a name off the tip of his tongue. but every time he loses it, and he’s always back in that room with clay heads formed as crude grotesques, unfinished and sightless, encircling and watching his entry from a wall that has no door. he’s in a corner again. he doesn’t know how and he never stops to think it. he has a cold knife in his hand with a flimsy plastic handle and he’s scared, he is scared, of the clay heads and how they watch him. there is a much greater force he fears but they are the embodiment of it. and he can’t obscure this art, these sentries that gape at him, because they are the supplemental visage of what lies beneath. the heads of victims. the base of their necks drained and blood - less. the officer seen just days ago. the corners of their lips slashed with the flimsy plastic - handled knife and he doesn’t remember who did it first but he remembers the knife on the floor outside of the warehouse and he remembers the feeling of the clay, still soft and damp, smeared in his palms as he pushed his thumbs until frigid, rigor - mortis’d skin ran his blood cold. and he remembered holding the handle of that flimsy plastic knife and hearing his partner call him, her voice edged with an unease he’d never heard, as she asked why his fingerprints were on the knife and why it was removed from the evidence room. her voice would drone in the back of his mind until he would notice his own eyes were closed, that he lay on a couch in that poorly - lit room, asleep. he opens his eyes and a shape from the shadow lashes out and misses his eye by the last second turn of his head.

neck jolts, chin turning away from knox, micro - / half - second naps capturing him and the momentum of his rag - dolled body startling him. he swallows, audible and dry, a punch in his throat. eyes search, present, now, reviewing what to say, an idle hand thoughtfully brushing the fresh bandaging. temptation pleads he shut his eyes, that thoughts would come easier on the backs of eyelids ; he forces them wide. ❝ i wish i got hit by a bus. ❞ his surroundings are vague and his motives forgotten --- how knox even found him, a mystery beyond his capacity to consider. he knows he owes more, feels expectant eyes that wait for further elaboration ; calloused hand slides down his face to break the tension of knox’s gaze, universal sign : it’s too much.

#.☄ ° ゜ how did the fox get the raven to crow ? ⇢ ic.#alleyspat #i hope this makes sense tbh #.☄ ° ゜ queue think i’m spooky ? ⇢ q.#.☄ ° ゜ you miner for truth and delusion ! ⇢ i.

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laywellbeds · 5 years

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Guests Favorite: Premium Air Mattress

Like pull-out sofas, air mattresses have a tendency to get a bad reputation. (And choosing between one or the other can be a difficult decision.) But with modern upgrades, air mattresses can provide a comfy night’s sleep for your guests (or even for you) for as little as the cost of a single night in a hotel room. Prices tend to range from as little as $10 to as much as $200. It’s just a matter of knowing what to buy to suit your style. Consider these factors when picking your next air mattress.

Think About: Size. Air mattresses follow the same sizing rules as traditional mattresses. However, variations in firmness based on their level of inflation can make them feel smaller. If you have the space and the budget, and especially if you plan to have two people sleep on the mattress together, consider stepping up the size from a twin to a full, queen, or king. Just remember that not only will you need space for the fully inflated bed in the room that your guests will sleep in, but you’ll also need the space to store it when it’s deflated and not in use. Luckily, most air mattresses fold down into a pretty compact area, about the size of a carry-on suitcase, if not smaller.

Think About: Your Guests. If you’ll be hosting kids or young people who are simply grateful not to be sleeping on the floor or on a couch, a basic air mattress that sits low on the ground may be sufficient. Older guests who have a harder time getting down onto the floor (and back up again), or those who demand more of a “real bed” experience will appreciate a thicker, more deluxe air mattress that is raised. Some fancy air mattresses even come with an attached bed frame. Again, keep in mind that these perks may make the mattress heavier to move and bulkier to store.

Think About: Blowing It Up. When was the last time that you blew up a bunch of balloons? A beach ball? An inflatable raft? It’s not easy, is it? You can certainly save money by buying an air mattress that requires using lung power or a hand pump to inflate, but make sure you’ll be game for doing that difficult and time-consuming work—along with all the other tidying up—when your guests are on their way over. Pricier models plug into an outlet in order to inflate (and later deflate) by themselves in minutes.

Think About: Features. Some air mattresses have fun features that aren’t absolutely necessary, but are definitely cool if you have a little extra change to spend. For instance, some models have a blue LED light at the bottom of the bed, so if a guest needs to use the bathroom during the night, it serves as a built-in nightlight. Others have a USB port, so a guest can charge a phone, tablet, or laptop overnight. Some even have sensors that look for drops in pressure during the night and automatically pump more air into the mattress if it gets too low, so there is no change in the mattress’s firmness while your guest is sleeping.

Think About: The Bedding. Sure, a high-quality air mattress can be far more comfortable today than the flimsy one you might remember sleeping on at Grandma’s house years ago. But unlike a traditional mattress, it’s still vinyl- (or PVC- or nylon-) encased air. Choosing one that’s topped with a softer velveteen material can help by taking away the telltale slippery feel (and sound) of sheets on rubber. But if you really want to make the air mattress cozy, wrap it in comfortable bedding. Consider adding a down or memory foam mattress topper, as well as high-quality sheets and fluffy blankets that will help guests feel like they’re staying in a five-star hotel. Now that’s a good night’s sleep!

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#laywell beds #united kingdom #premium mattresses #premium beds #sleigh beds #box beds #furniture

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btsmutimagines · 7 years

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Fourth Lesson (M)

Teacher! Taehyung

Anon requested: OMG SINFUL SUNDAY!! Ur the best. ㅠ.ㅠ How about a Tae smut where you go to a concert together (he's just attending with you). Hmmmm, n then spontaneous car sex? ^___________^ Ur a champ~ ;*

Lowkey a smut series -> Lessons, First Lesson, Second Lesson, Third Lesson

Word Count: 3,385 words

god he’s so damn handsome

You woke up, looking at your alarm clock and sighing. It was time for school, the one place you wished to avoid. There was an error in your winter schedule, making you see Mr. Kim and Ms. Tight skirt at the beginning and end of your day.

Of course, your friends called it ‘destiny’ while you called ‘an error that is the school should take responsibility for’. As if the universe doesn't hate you enough, you couldn't pick an alternative. Even computer science was full and everyone knows Ms. Choi is a tyrant because of her divorce from her fourth husband. You were shocked that she still got dates.

You’ve seen her shamelessly flirt with the head janitor but you digress.

“Y/N, you’re going to be late.” Your brother’s voice ripped you from your thoughts, standing in your door frame as you still laid in bed. He was a year older but you refused to call him ‘oppa’, the last thing you needed to do was inflate his monstrous ego.

“Can't I stay home?”

“Y/N, you just had winter break. Two weeks where you holed up your room with snacks and your corny romance movies.”

“They're not corny, they're classic. Of course, you don't know the difference, you still play with dolls.”

“Action figures.”

“Hm, I wonder why my old Barbie was sitting with Batman.”

“They're working out their issues…”

“Whatever you say, Youngbae.” You shooed him, closing your door and getting dressed. Stupid school couldn't give you pants instead of this flimsy skirt. It was winter for fuck’s sake. You sucked it up, wearing tights under your knee highs and wore your long coat.

“Ready?” You went downstairs, seeing him lying down the couch and watching you going down the stairs. He drops you off now that it's winter but you were pretty sure he would leave you to walk to school if it wasn't for your dad. Your parents were out of town, making your brother stay home instead of living with his stupid friends.

Just thinking about those assholes made you feel dirty, you were sure they thought you were attainable. They obviously don't know that you have this little thing called standards. Their oblivion was taxing on you, making you overjoyed when your brother moved out.

“Take a guess.”

“For someone who's dependent on me, you’re pretty rude to me.”

“It's out of love.” You smiled at him, hearing him ‘some messed up kind of love, huh’ before grabbing his keys. He started his car, you skipping to the passenger side and enjoying your toasty seat.

“All I am to you is transportation.” He backed out of the driveway, taking his time to back into the mailbox. You could still remember when your parents bought him his first car. Your parents made you watch him drive it for the first time, annoying you at first until he backed right into the mailbox. Your mom got it on film and you play it once in a while to cheer yourself up.

“No, you’re more than that. You're excellent transportation. The bus can't replace you.”

“You’re a cruel little sister.”

“And your only sister.”

“To think I was excited to hear that I had a baby sister. Silly 1 year old me.”

“I am a blessing, oppa.” He snorted, you hitting his arm and he pulled into your school’s parking lot. You opened the door to get out, quickly walking off but your brother stopped you.

“Here,” he shoved some pocket change into your hands before slipping his hand into his pocket.

“Buy something to eat before class, Y/N.” He turned his heel before you could thank him, grinning as he left and entering the warm school. You immediately peeled off your coat, allowing the heating warm you up and going to your locker as usual. Your perky friends were nowhere to be found, not that it bugged you really. All they would do is take about college boys and your alleged crush on Mr. Kim.

He's been more experimental these days, making you give him blowjobs in the staff room, fucking you against the window. Your nipples pressed against the frosty glass as he whispered hotly in your ear how much he loved fucking your tight cunt. The thought of his vulgar language that came out of his pretty pink mouth was enough to get you wet. He would place a vibrator in your panties and watch you struggle to keep your legs closed. You would bite your lip, not wanting to give into his wicked pleasure but it would just feel too damn good to deny yourself of. From those experiences, you were pretty sure he had an exhibition kink.

“If it isn't my favorite student.”

“Kim.” He leaned against the lockers, standing in front of you with a cheesy grin on his face. Maybe he was just happy that he could relieve the two weeks break you two had. You really didn't want to explain to your brother why you could barely walk at the end of the day but having sex with him made it worth the embarrassment.

“Did you miss me, kitten?” He shut your locker, pulling you into his arms and you immediately squirm. Does he not realize that you're in public and anyone could see you two being friendly?

“What the hell are you doing?” You hissed and he smirked, his hand slipped between your thighs. His jade eyes met your eyes as he felt your wet cunt. This isn't exactly how you pictured greeting him.

“Already, kitten. Did you miss me that much, huh?” You placed your hand on his arm, wishing he would at least finger you to relieve the heat building in your core that started the minute you heard his voice.

“Please..”

“You haven't asked anything and you're begging?”

“I need you…” He pulled away from you, his finger glistening from the wetness of your folds and you almost cursed. Was he seriously going to tease you right now?

“Tsk tsk, you know better kitten. You know anyone could walk in and see you whimpering like you were.”

“And you still stuck your hand in my panties?”

“You looked fucked out and I barely touched you.”

“That's because…”

“Just admit you missed me, kitten.”

“I rather-” The sound of your stomach growling interrupted your thoughts, Taehyung stifling laughter and you wrapped your arms around your lower torso. After his little laughing fit, he took you to the cafeteria in your school. You got what you could afford with the pocket change your brother gave you but Taehyung pulled out his card with lightning reflexes.

“Mr. Kim, I was going to pay for that.”

“Consider it a treat for my favorite student.” He added with a wink before you grabbed the food from the kind lunch lady. You ate, Taehyung watching and stealing a few bites with you hitting him.

“So violent for such a little girl.”

“Keep talking like that and this little girl will fight you, sir.”

“It would be hard to fight with that soaking wet cunt of yours. I wouldn't mind if you wrap your legs around my shoulders, gives me a better taste of that cunt.”

“M-Mr. Kim.”

“Still haven't learned, kitten? It's Taehyung when we're alone.”

“We're not alone.”

“Practically alone. Nobody important is going to hear me talking about your pussy the way you want me to. Keep clenching your legs, kitten. You'll be spreading them soon enough.” He smirked as he placed a kiss behind your ear, leaving afterward and you glared at his retreating figure. Teasing jerk. You checked the time, seeing class was about to start and making your way to the classroom.

“How was your break?”

“It was amazing. A few of my girlfriends came up and we spent time going to clubs and having spa days.” You knew you weren't supposed to eavesdrop but the fact Ms. Lee is alone with Taehyung made your blood boil. Every conversation they had always had her trying to flirt with him.

“Clubbing? You still have time for that?”

“Maybe you should join me sometime.”

“Good morning.” You opened the sliding door, not wanting to hear his answer and taking a seat.

“Morning, Y/N.”

“Good morning, Y/N. How was your break?” As if her flirtatious behaviour didn't annoy you enough, she was always trying to be friendly with you. You’ve brushed her off on every attempt she made but she kept trying. Gotta admire her persistence.

“It was fine.” You looked at the clock, watching the seconds pass in silence and the class quickly starting to fill with students and your friend skipped to her seat next to you.

“It's freezing out there.” She said as she leaned against you.

“Did you walk?”

“Not all of us have an older brother that drops them off.”

“Maybe I can convince him to carpool with you.”

“What happened to you? Did you get abducted by aliens in the past two weeks?” You hit her side, making her wince while she laughed.

“I’m just being nice, maybe I should let you be an icicle this winter.”

“There's my Y/N.” You rolled your eyes, your friend smiling along with you. Taehyung cleared his throat, easily silencing the room with the simple sound.

“Morning, girls.”

“Good morning, Mr. Kim.” The class choruses and he smiled. He went on, asking a few girls how their break was and began assigning roles for Hamlet.

“Hello, Hamlet.” You glared at him while he playfully smiled. Hamlet was an arrogant maniac, obsessed with the idea of his uncle killing his father and drove himself mad thinking he was the one who could avenge his father’s angry spirit.

“Haha, very funny.” A few girls were giggling as he put the sash over your shoulders.

“Fine, I almost got you, didn't I?”

“Your friend here,” he gestured to your friend next to you and he gestured to you next, “will be Hamlet and you, my dear are my Ophelia.”

He sent you a quick wink before giving out other roles. Ms. Lee followed him around as he briefed everyone on their roles. You barely paid attention, just wanting to leave the classroom. The air was clouded with cheap perfume from Ms. Lee and your friend kept poking you with her foam sword.

“Now before you all go, the Arts department has decided to go to a winter concert from visiting art schools from Europe. Ms. Lee will give you all permission slips and I hope you all join this fun event.” He looked at you at the end, the sudden eye contact made you squirm in your seat. His eyes were so intense, it felt as if his eyes were undressing you and peering into your soul.

“Class dismissed.”

He sat in his chair as you packed your bag and sat on your desk.

“Come here, kitten. You can play with me now.”

“Why don't you come here and get me?” His eyes flickered to yours, his eyes burning you as if you touched an open flame. He walked over to you, his slender fingers pulling on his silk tie. His dress shirt came unbuttoned soon as after, his toned chest exposed to you. You missed his honey golden complexion, his skin radiating heat as his hand snake up your sides.

“I thought you were going to be a good girl for me?”

“I thought you knew better, Taehyung.” You said as his lips merely hovered over yours, his hand caressing your breast and the other resting on your cheek.

“Tsk. I was about to let you do whatever you want, kitten,” his finger ran over your bottom lip, pulling it out a little before he pulled off his tie.

“Follow my lead.” You could tell by the darkest of his eyes, he wasn't going to be easy on you anymore.

“Does it feel good? Tell me.”

“Y-Yes, so fucking good.” He tore up your tights, exposing your drenched underwear. He bent you over his table and began to spank you while he controlled a vibrator on your clit.

You had to keep your legs spread while he watched you try to control your orgasm. He smirked at your moans, you scratching the desk as you mindlessly try to grip anything.

“Do you want to cum, kitten?”

“Taehyung, please. Please let me cum, I need to-” He turned off the vibrator, you opening your mouth to curse him out before you felt his tongue press against you. He placed his hands on your ass, squeezing the flesh as he licked your cunt fervently.

“F-Fuck.” He ate you out until you came, your legs trembling and he hummed against your cunt.

He grabbed a cloth, cleaning you up before fixing your skirt. You dusted over it a little, fixing your sweater and he watched you. He moved away your hands, fixing the bow around your neck and helping you fix up your hair. Was he always this observant of you?

“Thank you.”

“Come to the music concert, Y/N.”

“It's not my type of thing.”

“Do you really want to leave me alone with Ms. Lee?”

“If you think you're just going to toy with me, I hope you know that our… interactions are purely sexual.”

“Our interactions, huh? Is that why you were jealous of Ms. Lee? Walking out the cafeteria when she put her hand on my chest?” He stepped closer to you as he spoke and you moved back with every step he took. “Tossing the script at me when we were reenacting that scene? I wrote those lines, they weren't part of the original script. And you fell into the trap.”

“I’m just a great actress, Mr. Kim. See you tomorrow.” You barely escaped, knowing he wasn't going to follow you when you saw the fox enter the classroom.

Am I really going leave him alone with her?

“I can't believe you dragged me here.” Your friend whined as you dragged her through the large hall. You tried to convince yourself you only showed up because it was free and you rather not stay home with your brother on Friday night.

“It’ll be fun. There could be cute band boys from France.”

“They're foreign? And cute? Count me in.” You were glad that rung her in and followed the theatre, a few girls already there and sure enough, Taehyung was talking to Ms. Lee. That bitch can't be away from him for more than 3 fucking seconds, can-

“Y/N, you made it. I’m really glad you decided to come.” Ms. Lee said to you but your eyes were on Taehyung. His smirk was evident, you fell for his trap on d again but this time you had a plan You sat down near a cute guy in the crowd and your friend finding her own. His face went blank, his eyes on you as you began to chat with the boy. Ms. Lee tried to distract him, you glancing at him trying to be immersed in whatever she was saying.

“You know you're really cute.” You would glad you decided to wear a dress to this event, teasing Taehyung and all the guys that were there. Maybe making him jealous would be an easy goal to accomplish.

“I could say the same about you.” He flirted with you, your comments just as flirtatious as the concert commenced. You touched the boy’s arm, smiling at him as he made a lame joke. He kept trying jokes of the same variety, eating up your fake laughs and you switched the topic.

“You know, you're the first girl that likes my jokes.” That's a shocker.

“I wonder what other things I could be your first for.”

“How about the first girl to make out with in public?”

“Lengthy but I like the idea.” He leaned in, you being yanked away from him and you looked at the one who dragged you.

“You two. You're in a ton of trouble young lady. Come on.” He pulled you by your arm and you read his body language. His jaw locked, his teeth slowly grinding and his tight grip on your wrist all meant one thing. He was jealous and angry.

“You think you're so smart, don't you kitten?”

“I do call myself a genius.” He pulled you outside, going to his car and pressed you against the hood of the car.

“Then try and talk yourself out of this one, genius.” He turned you around, his hand roughly caressing your ass with a few slaps in between.

“I wanted to make you jealous.” He pulled up the skirt of your dress, disregarding your panties and directly smacking your ass. You felt his fingers rubbed against your clit before burying them into the pool of wetness and heat your count was producing.

“F-Fuck, I-I guess it worked.”

“You like this, kitten? You think you could make me mad and get what you want?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“On your knees” You obliged, his hand forcefully pulling your head close to his cock. He watched your hand palm over his hardening erection and you tested him a bit. You could tell from the growl that he made he wasn’t going to be patient with you anymore. You pulled out his cock, stroking him immediately and he scoffed at you.

“That’s cute, kitten. Open your fucking mouth.” He made you do it anyways, his hand squeezing your cheeks to open your mouth and sticking his dick into your mouth. You couldn’t control the pace of his thrusts, his cock ramming inside your mouth and he made you swallow him a few times as well. He chased his own pleasure, his cock beginning to twitch inside your mouth before he pulled out.

“Is that all you got?”

“Get into the fucking car and take that piece of fabric off before I tear it off that body of yours.” You got into his car, the backseat folded in and a space large enough for two bodies was made. Did he have a feeling that he would be doing this? You slipped out of your dress and looked out the windows. For a moment, you hadn’t realized how rough Taehyung could be with you. Especially a jealous version of himself.

“What? Are you looking for the fucking no name that touched your thigh, kitten?” He pulled you back into his chest, his hand roughly kneading your breast as his hand slipped between your legs and his lips left a trail of hickeys down your neck. You were hopeless, shamelessly moaning Taehyung’s name and begging him not to stop.

“I thought you knew that you were mine. These breasts, your sweet cunt, even this sassy mouth is all mine. Don’t you dare think that you can belong to anyone else but me, understood?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good kitten.” You relaxed to the sound of your nickname, that moment short-lived as his cock entered you. A gasp escaped your lips as he waited for a moment before moving his hips. He kissed behind your ear before nibbling on the fleshy lobe. You were being held back by hands holding you up when he let you fall onto your hands and knees. He resumed his spanking, each slap only intensifying the pleasure that was coursing through your veins.

The sound of his groans overwhelmed your ability of coherent thought, the way his voice dropped an octave that was deeper than any of the baritones that were in the concert. His breathy cursing was mellifluous, his throaty groan was more beautiful than any piece of music you could ever listen to and no sound could never compare.

Your moans, whimpers and whines were all you could communicate, the sound of skin to skin a metronome in your head as his cock gave you euphoric pleasure that you couldn’t deny. A stutter was all you could muster before you came undone. You barely hold yourself up, Taehyung easing you up by your hips and you turned around to face him. He allowed you to plant a sloppy kiss on his lips, the presence of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip almost made you go in for another kiss.

“Is this what you wanted, kitten?”

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adamn-ellis · 6 years

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Get A Jump On The Inflatable Couch Trend For An Awesome Summer - AMEPAC Furniture

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Get A Jump On The Inflatable Couch Trend For An Awesome Summer

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An inflatable couch, armchair, pouf or mattress can be super useful in a lot of different situations and settings. They’re great because you can take them with you when you’re going camping and they take up little space when you pack them. Sure, they’re pretty flimsy sometimes and they can get damaged easily but that’s a risk you have to take. These things are great for patios, poolside decks or even for interior spaces. Here are some of the options:

You may have seen similar inflatable balls in office spaces or even in homes. They’re a practical and fun alternative to the plain old chair or beanbag seat and they come in various sizes and colors. But if you feel that these accessories are not exactly good-looking you might be right and others have felt the same which is why Vluv came up with the idea of a fabric-covered inflatable pouf. It even comes with a handle.

You may have seen these air loungers before. It’s no wonder since they became so popular since their launch. They’ve even been copied by other manufacturers. The Lamzac lounger is super practical and super comfy. It’s also really easy to inflate and then to deflate it. That makes it perfect for you if you like to travel and you want to be comfortable no matter where you go.

One of the disadvantages of inflatable sofas, chairs and other similar products is the fact that they lack proper support and are not always ergonomic. That’s because they also lack a frame. Well, most of them at least. There’s always that one thing that stands out from all the others and in this case it;s the Anda inflatable chair. It’s special because of the wooden frame which gives it support.

An inflatable couch can be pretty practical in a home, especially one that can also be turned into a bed, like the Intex sofa. Sure, this may not be the best option for an elegant living room but you can definitely put it in a guest room or use it as a temporary furniture piece.

In case a blow up couch is too big for your space or if you’re simply looking for an inflatable chair that can also turn into a bed, look no further because we found the perfect piece. It’s the chair matching the sofa we just showed you. You can get it on Amazon and you can use both indoors and outdoors.

This inflatable lounger would have to be one of the most practical and versatile things ever. It’s ideal for traveling, camping, picnics, festivals or backyard seating areas. You can easily deflate it and pack it, it’s easy to store and easy to use. You can even use it in the pool. Get it on Amazon, either as a gift or for yourself.

When you think about it, inflatable furniture is actually great for college dorm doors or if you’re renting a place and you feel like it needs some extra seating but you don’t want to invest into anything permanent. These Intex inflatable Empire Chairs actually look pretty stylish and are also super comfortable. They come in several different colors and you can mix and match them as you like.

Summer is perfect for all sorts of outdoor events like pool parties, backyard barbecues, picnics, camping trips, etc. Some of these events would be much more enjoyable with one of these huge inflatable sofas. The Instant Summer Event Sofa can seat up to 30 people and comes with a detachable ottoman which can be used as a separate piece.

For all those great pool parties you plan on hosting this summer to be a raging success, you might want to invest in a couple of these Designer Series Floating Couches. They come in three bright and vibrant colors: aqua, lime and tangerine and they’re fun, stylish and pretty comfortable as well.

Inflatable rafts are pretty nice too but they’re generally small. Well take a look at this giant thing. It’s like a mini floating island…well one which you can deflate and take home with you at the end of the day. This giant inflatable raft can hold up to seven people and come with cup holders and built-in coolers. You can get it on Amazon.

Best friends share everything. They’re like slices of a pizza. Speaking of pizza, check out this cool pack of eight inflatable rafts. All you have to do for things to be perfect is find seven friends willing to share a pizza with you. Don’t forget to get this Swimline series from amazon first.

Because everything is better when you share it with friends, we’d also like to show you this incredibly versatile inflatable armchair which has a modular design that lets you separate it into pieces and then rearrange the pieces to create larger structures. It’s like playing with giant puzzle pieces. Each Pigro Felice Modul’Air armchair is made of two base parts, a backrest piece and a pillow.

The last inflatable couch/ chair that we want to show you today doesn’t really look like an inflatable piece at all. It was designed by Ronan and Erwan Bouroullec and it’s called Quilt. Its design is sculptural, elegant and quite sophisticated, characteristics which are not usually used to described such products.

The post Get A Jump On The Inflatable Couch Trend For An Awesome Summer appeared first on Home Decorating Trends – Homedit.

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aclsblog · 6 years

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Get A Jump On The Inflatable Couch Trend For An Awesome Summer - AMEPAC Furniture

Get A Jump On The Inflatable Couch Trend For An Awesome Summer

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aburntship · 6 years

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New Post has been published on AMEPAC Furniture

New Post has been published on https://amepac.org/outdoor/get-a-jump-on-the-inflatable-couch-trend-for-an-awesome-summer/

Get A Jump On The Inflatable Couch Trend For An Awesome Summer

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The post Get A Jump On The Inflatable Couch Trend For An Awesome Summer appeared first on Home Decorating Trends – Homedit.

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actualcannibalshialasquib · 6 years

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Get A Jump On The Inflatable Couch Trend For An Awesome Summer on AMEPAC Furniture

Home Interior Decorating Ideas published on https://amepac.org/outdoor/get-a-jump-on-the-inflatable-couch-trend-for-an-awesome-summer/

Get A Jump On The Inflatable Couch Trend For An Awesome Summer

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