#the grip this little white boy has one me is insane
Text
no one can know that this is the guy i think about when i listen to bad bunny
#SI TÚ ME LO PIDES YO ME PORTO BONITO Y SUBO UN SELFIE PA QUE VEAS LO RICO Q TÚ ESTASSSSS#it’s okay he’s actually Latino he told me so#he’s just white because he’s from north Jalisco#Guadalajara king#Charlie Jenni Rivera Day#the grip this little white boy has one me is insane#charlie kelly#charlie day#bad bunny
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
CASH- app or zelle?
Sugar mommy/daddy AU
...wanderer...Xiao...tighnari...albedo...
Wanderer
Scaramouche never really needed a sugar mommy nor a daddy since he was a harbinger. He was rich...but now that he's wanderer...things have changed.
Ever since Nahida enrolled him in the Akademia he's had to find out how damn expensive some of the books he needs for his essays are
What the fuck! Why should he spend a million mora on a damn book he'll only use once!
While he was complaining about this to the traveler she jokingly suggested that he become a sugar baby.. " hah- do you think I would lower myself to such a degree-" once piamon mentions how he could basically get all the books he needed for his essays for free..he was sold.
One thing Wanderer didn't quite get the grasp of is what he needed to do for you in return...
His sharp breathing filled the room as your hips snapped in and out at a rough pace- he didn't know this was a part of the deal!!
Though he couldn't find it in himself to complain, as he gripped onto the bedsheets till his knuckles grew white "Hahh..fuuuck"
"you have to repay me for those books after all, don't you, so be a good little darling and hold fucking still." he wants to say he tried but it was nearly impossible! That fake dick slammed into him so hard! He couldn't! How could you except him to hold still
"i- hah.. I'm trying yo- mmh!" he was glad that he was facing away from you he most certainly didn't want to see that amused smirk on your face.
Xiao
Xiao didn't realize how it even happened, he just thought you brought him gifts and such out of kindness
Right, it had to be kindness. What else could it be?
In time, he began expecting your gifts and trinkets patiently he would sit on the railings waiting for your arrival, and when you finally arrive he greets you still sitting on the railing
Xiao didn't even realize how this relationship developed. Due to his duty to guard liyue he never went anywhere too far from it, so whenever you would come back from your trips and expeditions you would give him gifts and trinkets.
And in turn, he would give you himself for the night.
He lets out breaths in a set rhythm "hah..hahh" his breaths come out as pants and his body jerks up and down at every touch
He's so damn sensitive, twitching at every minor touch, you can milk his cock all night and he'll try his hardest to be your good boy. To follow your commands without a word,
He'll grab into you so tightly so desperately trying to hide his embarrassment in the crevis of your neck
Albedo
Albedo gets paid well by the knight of Favonius but lately, with some of his rather grand projects, he hasn't enough funds for them.
He thinks of ways to get more money, maybe he could work overtime. No, he already does and it's still not enough. He's in a stump. That's when he learns the term sugar baby from a drunk venti and kaeya
They both were drunk only jokingly suggesting that the man become a sugar baby if he was that desperate
What they didn't know was, yes. He is that desperate. He absolutely needs more funds, so this is the best and easiest option.
All he needs to do is lay himself on his table on Dragon spine, and the rest is up to you, you can do whatever you please with his fair skin, leave as many marks as you wish,
He thought it was easy enough. All he has to do is lay pretty and let you ravage him. He is a homunculus after all, he was confident he could take it,
"oh f-fuck mhm..." it seems he had overestimated how much his delicate body could take
Though he didn't mind, he enjoyed the feeling of being pushed to his utmost limit. His nails dig into your skin leaving red scratches all over, he can't help it you drive him insane.
Tighnari
Much like Albedo the Fox Boy needs funds for his experiments and expenditures, the scholars at the Akademiya after hearing his reluctance to join them being petty decided to cut his funds in half!
He's annoyed but he's even more petty than those stuck-up scholars, so even with his funds cut he decides to come up with another way to secure them
It wasn't his idea to become a sugar baby, but it came up when he was talking to his friends during a game of TCG, Kaveh had the same problem being in debt and not having enough funds to cover them.
He told Tighnari about how he planned to sign up to become a sugar baby, and so Tighnari albeit reluctantly decided to try it out. He means, what's the worst that could happen?
This is the worst. Though, he's lying.
His breathy pants fill the room his scratching and digging into your back, creating deep red marks on your skin,
"ah- ah..mhm, Hah-" he forces his head up to look at you, flushed cheeks tinted a harder red the more you stared back. "Y-you'll buy me t-the- mhm!" you couldn't help but chuckle.
His tail desperately wraps around you as he lets out a whine, he pouts a little at your teasing, "Don't worry darlin', I'll get whatever you want, so don't worry your pretty little head over it."
#genshin x reader#genshin impact#genshin imagines#sub genshin#genshin hcs#genshin xiao#sub genshin men#xiao x reader#sub xiao#bottom xiao#albedo imagines#albedo x reader#albedo#sub albedo#wanderer thirst#wanderer x reader#wanderer smut#sub wanderer#wanderer#xiao smut#albedo smut#genshin smut#tighnari smut#sub tighnari#tighnari
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
"𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄"
╰ ft. takami keigo/hawks !
warnings: fem!reader, breeding kink & rut — BABY FEVER, creampie (reader gets double-stuffed like a fucking oero), overstim maybe?...
author's note: this was supposed to be a submission for a breeding collab i joined before my hiatus but that account is no longer active so yeah... enjoy this fic was collecting dust in my docs :)
Was this round three or four? Or maybe it was the fifth… You couldn’t tell and the feathers flying everywhere were just as disorienting as Keigo pounding into you from behind. All you knew was that one moment you were walking down the hall of the bustling house, and the next you were pressed against the door of the upstairs bathroom.
Today your family had a little summer cookout, but you could tell something was off with Keigo. His wings would ruffle up at random moments, followed by him looking flushed and antsy. Not to mention the crazed look on his face when you held your baby cousin, bouncing the little boy on your hip and doing the stupid baby talk that most people hated — but he adored it. And whenever you finally escaped the death hugs of your family, you would waltz right back to your boyfriend’s side only to see him stuff his hands deep into his pockets and stiffen at your touch.
Then he disappeared.
You searched almost every inch of the house for an hour until he found you, pulling you into the small bathroom of your parent’s house.
As soon as your back met the white door, your lilac sundress was hiked above your hips and Keigo was muttering about how the mother look suited you and he wanted to give you a child of your own.
The entire thing caught you off guard, especially when his rut was last month because you vividly remember taking an entire week off from work so that he could wreck your insides for hours on end.
But even now as you look at him through the mirror, it’s clear that he was in another rut and you were the cause. The animalistic nature, avian pupils constructed as he focused solely on the feeling of your pussy, and his nails felt like talons as they dug into the plush of your hips…all of the signs were there.
Everything was hot and going numb. The sensation of his fingers circling your clit — using his own release that leaked out of you as lube — was faint and you were sure you wouldn’t be able to feel anything soon if he kept this up. When you finally crash from yet another orgasm, you release the breath you subconsciously had been holding and grip the sink tightly to support yourself.
Keigo was close. So so soooo close. His aching dick twitches deep inside of you and his breaths became ragged and shallow like his thrusts.
“Just one more… One more, please.” A bit of desperation tangles with the lust that spews from his lips. He promised the same thing in the beginning when he fucked you against the door, then when he had you sitting on the sink, and now he’s saying it again as he props one of your legs up on the sink to plunge deeper into your sloppy cunt.
All it takes is a few more taps against your spongey sweet spot that has him emptying another load into you. Too bad that you’re completely stuffed to the brim so the sticky cream dribbles down your leg to the growing pool on the floor. The sight of his seed being wasted drives him insane and only encourages him to keep bucking his hips, to keep pushing it back in so that he could finally give you a baby.
TAGLIST FORM
tags: @hungrynessforfics @rinhoes@indiecursor @protectpancakes @fight-me-bitch @nneedynymph @po3ticb3auty @haitani-plague @festive @apollostears @thenerdyrebel @4ngrysgf @daichisbunnybaby @urwifey2 @picayunne @kookieflvr @woahhajime @syomi @chrolloderulo @kutosznn @takemichiluvr @sweeneyblue1 @tyga-lily @jeanslove @getoswhore @thicksimpx @sakurashell @38riku @hyeque @wiserebelpartypie @sleepy3 @yuujilove @imperatorkhaleesi @sukunas-left-nut-sack @lawscorazon @sailewhoremoon @chaoticevilbakugo @xxrwzy @wh0reforlevi @nekoriots @yeagerfushiguro @chaotic-fangirl-blog @sftbunny-blog @dukina @momoewn @thithesandofferings @justdevine @hyeque @chittakii @breyspage
#hawks x reader#hawks x black!reader#hawks x you#keigo takami x reader#hawks smut#keigo takami#my hero academia#bnha
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
I have this very specific thought i cant get out of my head and ur free to ignore but I had to tell someone.
Thinking of poly hyunlix where you and hyunjin have been together for quite a while in such a sweet loving relationship, and you didn’t think you’d ever be adding someone but you did. In comes Felix all bright eyed and soft and you two both fall for him head over heels. Treat him so gently, because he’s inexperienced and shy. And one night he finally gets the courage to ask one of you to touch him, to give him his first orgasm even which is how he ends up squished between you and Hyunjin. Your lips on his neck, Hyunjins forehead against his as the two of you softly and slowly stroke him to completion. Which leads into the sweetest tooth rotting aftercare.
Okay anyways hope that wasn’t weird, you can ignore it. Bye 🤧🤐
🦦 anon is taken friend butttt would u maybe like 🐈?! surprisingly nobody has claimed that little kitty yet but i love her bc she looks like my cat
that being said… how cutie would lixie be in this situation. you and hyunjin have been dating for a while and then you both set your sights on cute little subby lixie… oh yeah.
it’s pretty obvious he’s inexperienced too. his little fingers yank his hoodie down everytime he pops a boner just from one of you kissing him because he’s so shy!! he’s so so shy, and he blushes beneath his pretty freckles because he feels so embarrassed that he’s getting so excited so quickly.
you and jinnie have to reassure him that no, it’s really fine, you like having such a responsive boy to play with!! and soooo felix timidly asks for you to help him have his first orgasm that’s not in his little hand :( <3
he’s instantly whining, head falling back on your shoulder. hyunjin’s hands are so much bigger than his, they can form a tighter ring around his erection and he feels like he’s gonna cum all over his hoodie already. “hyung, hyung, jinnie hyung, ‘s so good! oh, oh,” he’s babbling, eyes crossing to watch where hyunjin’s hand wraps around his cock. his hand makes his length look small, and god, felix feels like he can’t breathe.
hyunjin’s dark hair is tickling felix’s cheek and you hear him chuckle at how well the younger boy is doing during all of this. you press your lips to felix’s neck in a wet, open-mouthed kiss, and then your hand is rubbing over felix’s balls.
“oh! ohhnnnnggg! oh my god! oh my god, oh my god-“
“good, baby?” hyunjin questions, and felix nods rapidly. his fingers are curled into his hoodie, knuckles white from the tight grip. “she drove me fuckin’ insane the first time too, touching my balls like that. you think you’re gonna cum for us? gonna let us see you cum for the first time?”
OHHHHH GOD YEAH. yeah that would be so good i think
78 notes
·
View notes
Text
Inspired by this post by @chapel-of-rizztual (that has been giving me brainrot for DAYS)
and the reblog by @crimsonclergy
Kinktober, Day 10
Day 10: Praise kink
Pairing (?): Phantom alone, Rain only at the end.
Word count: 777
Tags: masturbation, pillow humping, dirty talking, a bit of voyeur at the end.
A/N: if you're wondering, yes, Phantom sleeps without his underwear.
4 AM, he still couldn't sleep.
He had tried to ignore that feeling.
But after turning around over and over again in his bed, he finally let it win.
With a sigh, Phantom slightly lowered his sweatpants, just a little bit enough to free his raging erection. He wrapped his hand around it and furiously started stroking himself. “Just a quick one” he thought to himself, maybe it could help him to get some sleep.
His orgasm rapidly approached, he bit his lower lip as he came, feeling a bit guilty about staining those fresh sheets.
But when his breathing got normal again and his heart wasn't racing anymore, Phantom realise that it wasn't enough.
That he needed more.
He slowly pushed his hips towards his hand, still wrapped around his lenght. After a few thrusts he was literally fucking into his own fist, still biting his lips to stay silent. He grabbed at the sheets, then he casually reached for the pillow.
Suddenly, and idea popped up in his mind.
After slowly pulling his hand away, he grabbed the pillow to put it at the centre of the bed, then lifted his leg to rest on it, still laying on his side. He gently rubbed his dick against the soft fabric.
That felt insanely good.
The fabric of the pillow was soft, delicate, it was giving him just that friction that he needed. And that fresh feeling was absolutely making him lose his mind.
He kept thrusting, rock hard, making a mess with his own pre, desperately trying to be as quiet as possible.
And then he pulled off his pants, he lifted himself up to sit on the pillow with his legs spread. To fucking ride it.
Damn, why didn't he try this before?
He grabbed at the sides of the pillow with both of his hands while rubbing his dick against the fabric with a slow back and forth movement.
The quint ghoul kept going, occasionally caressing his thighs and his hips with his fingertips, shivering as he touched his most sensitive spots, sometimes sucking his own fingers or gently pulling his own hair.
<<Mh… Rain…>> he muttered without even thinking about it. He didn't even realise that he was thinking about him.
<<I'm a good boy, am I?>> he whispered caressing his own hips, still humping the pillow.
He got just a bit faster, after also taking his shirt off, he was finally starting to enjoy himself while fantasizing about the water ghoul.
<<Good boy, I'm your good boy>> he kept whispering <<such a pretty pretty boy>>
Phantom gave up on trying to be quiet. After all, everyone was asleep. Nobody could hear his desperate moans, right?
<<Ooh, Rain>>
His voice was starting to get louder, he didn't care.
<<Am I doing good, Rainy? Please I wanna be good>> he cried as he plucked at his nipple with his index and middle finger.
The quint ghoul felt a heat growing in his lower belly, he kept whimpering louder and louder, leaking an indecent amount of pre all over the pillow.
<<Please please Rainy, I'm your little slut I'm your good boy>>
He was so damn close.
<<Please let me ride you, please I'm a good boy, please…>>
His grip on the pillow got tighter, his nipple got all stiffy from the stimulation, his hips started moving faster and faster. He was literally on the edge.
<<Mh, good boy, I'm a good boy, I'm a…>>
And he came, hard, shooting hot white pleasure all over that poor pillow, he kept riding his orgasm ‘til the last drop, letting all of his filthiest fantasies run.
<<…good boy>> he moaned for the last time as he started slowing down, heavy breathing, his thighs shaking, his heart racing more then ever.
Suddenly, he heard someone clapping hands behind him. He immediately opened his eyes and turned around.
<<Such a nice show, Bug>>
Rain was leaning against the door, he crossed his arms, then looked at him with a grin.
The quint ghoul blushed.
<<How long have you..?>>
<<Since I heard you moan my name for the first time, you didn't even hear me when I opened and closed again the door>> the water ghoul answered tilting his head.
Phantom felt incredibly embarrassed. But yet, that situation was turning him on. Again.
And judging by the bulge in his pants, Rain seemed pretty amused too.
<<So you like praising, huh?>>
Rain massaged himself through his pants, Phantom shyly nodded.
<<And you gave me such a nice show bug. I should really return the favour.>>
58 notes
·
View notes
Text
1: its just not my year / toby rogers
but im all good here
sunday morning
hands over my knees in a
room full of faces
im sorry if i seemed off,
but i was probably wasted
and didnt feel so good
masterlist ~ next
!Content Warnings!: homophobic slurs, bullying, references to drug use, vomiting
Somewhere, rural America
Your mother says that God is always giving signs, to never be surprised, always be prepared, and take whatever He gives you with open arms, no matter how you may hurt. You had believed it as a child, but after that day, you aren’t so sure. It had been a day like any other, as generally excruciating today as it would be tomorrow. Perhaps the maddening repetition of each passing day was a sign in and of itself? God had made the rising hours of the day so excessively same it had crossed over into the unusual, therefore being a supernatural sign, right? Repetition is said to drive anyone insane, let alone a tweaker like you. You splash your face with water, then grip the edges of your dirtied and broken bathroom sink; yeah, you think, that has to be it. God hasn’t abandoned me yet.
<3
Earlier that day
You were lazing on the couch in your living room, one of your younger siblings lay across your chest. You were resting your head back on one arm rest and your legs dangled over the other; there had been a time when they didn’t hang like that, and you had begun to miss it. The 4-year-old is resting his little head on your collar bone, turned to the side as he has his eyes glued to the T.V. He had drooled on your pastel yellow tank top and was fighting to stay awake, so as to continue watching whatever garbage was playing. He is small and very chubby, making him heavy on your lungs. You didn’t mind though, a fat baby was better than a starving baby, you knew that better than anyone else. You stare up at the popcorn ceiling, an expanse you have studied a million times over. You had pulled an all-nighter, as per usual, and so you had been the only one awake to catch Joseph, the boy, crying from the living room. You didn’t know how to comfort him, you didn’t know how to comfort anyone, you just gave him a hug and turned on the T.V. Your eyes drift to the wall above the couch, every corner filled with tacky crosses of various styles and designs. You had stared at these crosses many times, during lectures and scoldings that you tuned out. You had once been in awe at the wall, when you were a child, but the novelty and charm was lost on you long ago. You have been like this for about an hour, and you would continue like this until the boy fell asleep. Staying still for long was a challenge for you, constantly twitching, cracking, rubbing, and itching at your hands. Your feet twist and bend in their sockets, your legs swing, bounce, and kick at the air. It was as if there was a constant electrical current going through your body. No part of your body felt relaxed, at ease, eternally nervous and tense, even in your own home. You could feel Joseph’s little heartbeat against your stomach, and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to be pregnant. You squirm at the thought, and your mind and body are filled with dread. Just the idea of it makes you feel sick, fills you with the sort of existential fear you might feel when thinking about death. Your brother’s breathing slows, and now you can finally push yourself off the couch.
You hold the sleeping body tight as you bring him to your room. Well, yours and three of your sisters. You place the boy in your bed, not your choice but waking your mother now would raise hell, and tuck him in. The sheets are baby pink with an outdated brown pattern, totally 2000’s. You placed your stuffed childhood lamb against his chest and swiftly escaped. It was early in the morning, about 6 am now, the time you should be waking up. Your steps are near silent on the stained grey-brown, once white, carpet as you begin your morning. You push open the door to the family bathroom and lock yourself in before showering and brushing your teeth. You track a trail of water back to your room and grab the first pieces of clothing you see, quiet as to not wake the tiny beast in your bed. You make your way back to the bathroom, trailing more water, and, again, lock the door. Theres a small window high above the shower, to let light in while still having privacy. It was never glazed over or given a curtain, and so you had a habit of staring at it, as if you would catch someone trying to peak in. You assess the clothing you had grabbed in the darkness: a pair of small jean shorts, a red T-shirt, and your underwear. It would have to do. You dress quickly and turn to the mirror above the sink, the countertop littered with makeup. You decide on something simple; makeup is a habit drilled into you by your mother. It wasn’t about liking or disliking in this house, it is about what Mother and Father want. You finish and slip on your white socks, escaping the bathroom to search for a pair of shoes.
When you exit, a couple of your brothers and sisters are already scurrying about the house, rushing to get ready. You dodge and weave both small and large bodies, making your way into the kitchen. There, you find the 15-year-old Laura, the second oldest girl, after you, and the second mother of the household. She has made seven bowls of cereal, all the children excluding the two babies. Laura is dressed in a private school uniform, the smartest kid in the family, and is making quick work of tying the twins’ long hair into ponytails. Savannah and Violet, a mischievous 8-year-old duo, are whispering to each other about some anime or whatever they had watched the day prior. You silently chew at your Fruit Loops as you watch Laura struggle.
“You know, you could actually, like, help, you know?” She spits, earning a small yelp from Violet when she pulls her hair too hard.
You shrug, even though she doesn’t see it, “Uh, maybe later.” You lie.
The 10-year-old Zack barrels into the kitchen, snatches a bowl off the counter, and makes a break to get away. “Zack!” Laura hisses, and the boy stops in his tracks, “What are you doing?”
“Breakfast.” He replies, innocently.
“Eat at the table.” You demand, though more casual and less irritated than Laura, gesturing in the table’s direction.
“But I don’t want to.” He states, matter of fact, as if it were stupid to even think of giving the boy a command.
You walk over to the boy and place a firm grip on the back of his neck, marching him over to the table. He sits with a defeated huff and begins to eat. You raise your brows at Laura. “There, I helped.” You smirk, before leaving the kitchen and ignoring whatever little witty quip she spat back. As you walk out, you’re almost run over by Benny, 12, followed by your mother. A strange silence falls over the kitchen.
“Get the hell out of the way.” Your mother pushes past you as she shoves Benny, still in his pajamas, into the kitchen.
You don’t bother to stick around and find out what she’s so pissed about, just keep your mouth shut and move on. Behind the muffling of the door, you can hear Laura talk back to your mother, thus beginning the first argument of the morning. Back in the living room of your tiny, dilapidated house, you find Michael, 17-years-old. He is sitting on the couch, fully dressed but not making any move to go to the kitchen.
“Food’s ready.” You slur, mouth full of cereal. He doesn’t reply, he either didn’t hear you or is just straight up ignoring you. Most likely the latter. If life had gone back to the way it was 2 years ago, you would’ve pulled his hair or pinched his cheek. But that was then, and this is now, and things between the two of you wouldn’t ever be the way they were before.
You feel itchy. You ignored it as you walk back to your room, but the ache persisted. It felt as if there were little bugs beneath the skin, crawling and mating and birthing and multiplying. Your flesh and bone suddenly felt illuminated by something like an electric shock. You shakily place your bowl on a messy dresser in your room, rubbing your hands together frantically, like a nervous fly. You knew this feeling all too well; you needed to get high. You told Laura you would stop, for her sake, but she wouldn’t notice, would she? You absentmindedly grab at your hair and scratch at your belly, no, you couldn’t do it, you wouldn’t. But you needed to take the edge off, at the very least. You grab your backpack, a brown sweater, and your beat-up converse, not bothering to finish your cereal. You leave your room and enter the living room, the whole house suddenly alight with noise. Laura is holding the youngest sibling, baby Mary, while juggling with dressing Violet, meanwhile Michael is handling Savannah and Zack. Your mother disappeared, your father now in her place, and Benny is left to frantically dress himself. You pull your phone from your backpack, an outdated and beat up little thing, checking the time, 6:40 am. Normal kids who didn’t live out in the middle of nowhere would be getting up now. The walk to the bus stop took almost 20 minutes, 10 on a good day, meanwhile Laura got to leave in your father’s car.
“Why don’t drive all of us to the bus stop?” Michael had asked once, years ago.
“Nah, I’m not doing all that! Waste of time!” Your father dismissed, the same response he would give for years to come.
You’re out the door before anyone could notice you, and the thought of rolling one up now doesn’t fail to fill your mind. You pull your arms through your backpack straps, backwards, the bag hanging off your chest. You put the hoodie of your sweater over your head, not fully wearing it, the pressing humidity (and rising heat within your body) making it too stuffy to adorn. If Laura or Benny (or Michael, if he still talked to you) were out here, they would’ve said you look stupid. You had stopped worrying about how you look years ago, a premature ego death, before you even had an ego. You gripped the sides of the bag, to distract yourself from the overwhelming desire for a hit. In the distance, you could hear the gaggle of children finally leaving the house. Distant giggles, obnoxious laughter, muffled words of conversation and “I love you”. And there you were, meters away and alone. With you gone, it almost seemed like a happy family. You hear a car come up behind you, and a loud honk pulls you out of your thoughts. You jump, your heart almost stopping, too edgy from the withdrawal. You look at the offending vehicle and spot your father and Laura waving and laughing. You can’t discern whether you feel humiliated, gawked at like a clown, or loved, noticed. That fades, and then the only thing you feel is that deep, distant itch, begging to be scratched.
Violet is running up to you, followed in tow by Zack then Savannah.
“Why you so emo.” Violet pokes at your side.
You force an offended scoff, “Shut up, ugly!” You pitch your voice in a whiny tone. The poke feels like a stab, and suddenly you’re sweating. Shit.
“[ ], can you carry me? Michael doesn’t wanna carry me!” Savannah pulls at the sweater hanging from your head.
“You’re too big. You’re a big kid, right? You sound like a baby.” Your head feels dizzy, the world begins to sway.
Savannah continues to whine. Zack pipes up now, “After school, can you take me to the skate park? Please please please please…” He continues, his little fists pulled into a prayer position.
“I dunno, we’ll see.” There’s a pounding in your head, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe.
“Wait, [ ], I wanna go too!” Benny suddenly appears as he chimes in, giving up his too cool to engage act.
“We’ll see.” Your body is buzzing, you feel wired. You don’t even notice that you had begun scratching at your arms, and although it wasn’t violent by any means, it certainly wasn’t gentle either.
“Why was Josie crying last night?” Savannah.
“How did you get up so early, LOL.” Violet.
“Did you even go to sleep? You look sleepy,” Savannah.
“My legs hurt, I’m tired…” Zack.
“[ ], can we skip and go to the gas station instead?” Benny.
“Benny! That’s bad!” Savannah.
“Yeah, mommy’s gonna spank us!” Violet.
“Mom’s gonna spank you.” Benny.
“Why would she spank me, stupid?” Violet.
“For being so ugly, ugly!” Benny.
“Nuh uh! [ ]! Mommy’s not gonna spank me, right?” Violet.
Yeah, you’re never having kids. You couldn’t even itch your arms anymore, as there were children hanging off each one, begging for your attention. Well, you don’t blame them, the only time they ever see you is early in the morning and late at night. Perhaps, to them, you were something special, the way a two headed rat may be special. You’re clenching your teeth now and struggling to walk straight. When you’re like this, it’s difficult to stay calm; there have been too many times where you have lashed out, saying and doing vile things. You held onto whatever sanity you had left, to stop yourself from doing something you would regret. You wondered if Michael could tell; was he just watching, waiting for you to slip up so he could call you a stupid piece of shit again? Or was he just a fucking idiot?
“[ ]?” Zack spoke up, almost tripping you as he got into your space.
“Yeah?”
“Why are you still in school? I thought you had to go to college already?”
Oh god, the dreaded question.
“Guys, come here.” Michael finally demanded, pulling the children’s attention away from you. You let out a sigh, immediately bringing your nails to your arms once again. You continued to walk quickly at your own pace, tuning out the world around you.
You look up at the sky, it’s a gloomy grey, but the wind was warm. The moist air clings to your skin, making you feel dirtied. Mosquitos have already begun their biting, leaving red spots along the exposed expansions of your arms and legs. You look out at the fields, vast and almost endless, save for the thick tree line in the distance. You liked the fields, although ugly and littered with red necks, only because of the childhood memories you had made here. You hadn’t been out in that distant wood until you turned 16, begging your father to take you hunting. You had killed a rabbit out there, and you cried, and now the ghosts of the dead cute little animals seemed to haunt that area. Dramatic. You look down at your feet, you had been walking along a gravel path, lined with wire fences meant for cows. Bugs scattered the area, a grasshopper jumped past your feet, went down the trail, and landed on Savannah. You only know it landed on Savannah because of the shrill scream that followed. You jump, again, at the sound.
<3
The grasshopper sits calmly in your palm, Zack and Violet leaning over you as they observe the creature. Michael and Savannah are sitting on an old concrete bench, having reached the bus stop, the older boy wiping at the girl’s tears. You’re holding the pest in your left hand, meanwhile your right grips the left wrist, tight as to control the shaking.
“Can I hold it?” Zack asks, polite.
“Wait, no, me first!” Violet butts in.
“No, me! Back off, stupid!” Zack snaps, polite façade gone in an instant.
You still feel twitchy, though now you’ve gotten better at ignoring it. The three of you are crouched down, careful not to ruin your clothing with the damp grass. You knew that they knew what was going on, but you and the children all decided to collectively ignore the elephant in the room, apparently. They had asked questions in the past, only to be met with being shut down or lashed at, and so they now knew better. Benny is standing over Zack, half disgusted, half fearful, and totally trying to play it cool.
“Ugh, just kill it!” He sneers.
“I’m not gonna kill it, you little psycho.” You observe the creature for a little while longer, not placing it in either child’s hand.
“It’s just a bug! What is it gonna do, huh?” Benny talks down to you, totally too cool. He reminds you of how Michael had once been, and you begin to rub your wrist.
You stand, rather suddenly. Zack and Violet whine, a chorus of small pleas break out, and Benny takes a step back, hiding his terror of the creature. A beat passes, the bus begins to approach from the distance.
“Bus is here.” You nod toward the vehicle and the children turn around. Benny is trudging away from the scene when you grab the back of his school uniform, shoving the bug inside. He lets out a scream, and the kids burst into laughter. There had been a small congregation of students and parents standing around as well, all turning to witness the commotion. Benny is cursing you out while he rips off his backpack and sweater, batting at his back. You cackle, wicked and evil, as the boy panics.
“Ugh, you fucking bitch!” Benny snaps as the grasshopper finally escapes.
“Language!” You retaliate, the laughter making it difficult to get the word out.
“I’m telling mommy!” Violet yells at Benny through her giggles as she runs off to the bus, hand in hand with Savannah.
“Benny, hurry! Before we lock you out!” Zack teases and cackles, your little clone.
Savannah is still rubbing at her reddened eyes, “You guys are so mean!”
Benny flees the scene, not before flipping you the finger, and hops on the bus.
The bus leaves you and Michael there, and you hold your stomach as you try to catch your breath. Once your laughter finally dies, you find yourself standing in silence. Michael is still ignoring you, and the other highschoolers waiting by the curb are in their own little worlds. You stare at the back of Michael’s head, and you feel alone once more. You sit down in the wet grass, not caring about the stains, and scratch, twitch, and jitter in silence.
<3
You hurry to the back of the bus, Michael in the front. Even on the bus, he tries to stay as far from you as possible. The front is quiet, nerds and losers, but the back is rowdy, losers in denial. You sit next to a girl, a skinny little thing. She’s engulfed in large hoodie and sweatpants, light grey with the school’s name plastered in red. You plop down next to her and pull off your hoodie, pulling it over your front like a blanket.
“Who’s the father?” The girl exclaims, bringing her hands to her face in fake shock.
You glance down at your backpack, still hanging off your front, “Shut the fuck up.” You reply, though with no real bite.
She is Mariah Smith, local pothead and one of your few friends. You aren’t the best of buddies, she had been a friend of a friend, but you were beginning to grow on her. She has dark skin, a rarity in this side of town, and wore short braids. She has a nose ring, done at home by one of your other friends, and had a girlfriend in the city. You two had met in pre-calculus the year before, when she was a junior and you were a senior. Then you failed, obviously, and now you two are in the same grade. You had a feeling she was trying too hard to seem cool because you were older? The thought of being respected, although slightly, filled you with both pride and dread. Pride, because someone thought you were cool. Dread, because you knew you were destined to disappoint. You almost wanted to turn to her and warn her not to get her hopes up.
“Did you see Kay?” You inquire. You had begun to dig your nails into your thighs, the overwhelming sensations of the bus would get to you if you couldn’t distract yourself.
“Yeah, fucking long ass drive, though. But her mom let me spend the night,” Mariah smirks, “very much worth it.” A beat passes before you force out a small laugh, forgetting you had to respond. Mariah goes on to tell you the story of her eventful weekend, trying to look cool despite her giddiness. “…And then we went downtown, and holy shit [ ], we…”
You can’t help but wonder at the feeling, being loved like that. Sure, you’ve had boyfriends… in the 8th grade. That last “relationship” you had was with some new kid in marching band when you were 13, and that never moved past awkwardly standing near each other. But, as far you knew, no sane male has attempted to even look at you since then. There was a time when this would eat you up from the inside out, and there was a time when you were happy to be finally left alone. Now, you feel as if you are better off not burdening your existence upon someone for longer than necessary, even if that pang of longing still runs within you. Maybe just once, with a shitty guy whose heart you wouldn’t mind breaking once his body has done its job… But what if he wants to kill you? Men are always killing their lovers after being tossed to the side, you’ve seen it. You wonder for a moment… you’ve dealt with worse at this point, there’s no situation you couldn’t snake your way out of. How much worse could it really get?
You don’t even know the half of it.
Suddenly, you realize Mariah is silent, you are silent. “[ ]?”
“Yeah?”
“You, uh, okay?”
“Huh? What? Never better!” You shake your head and rub your eyes, “Pulled an all-nighter s’all.” Among other things.
Mariah nods, not seeming convinced but not wanting to dig any further. An awkward silence falls over the two of you for a moment. You’re biting your lips, tearing off the dead skin. Mariah eventually moves her attention to other kids on the bus, making lighthearted and shallow conversation with the boys sitting in front of you.
Suddenly, you’re overcome with a wave of sick. Your eyes are squeezed shut, you’re breathing hard, and your leg is jittering.
“Fucking shit, [ ]…” She wasn’t angry, but she disguised her worry with frustration. “Are you good? What the hell is going on?”
You shake your head, slowly, always quick to give in.
“You sick?”
You shrug, kinda.
“What, is this fucking morning sickness or some shit?” She chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.
You let out a huff through your nose, then shake your head no.
“Flu?”
No.
“Uh… cold?”
No.
“… Cramps?”
No!
There’s silence for a moment. “Did you, uh, relapse?” There is something strange and awkward in her voice. The tone you use when you get dumped with the burdens of a (near) stranger.
No, and she lets out a small sigh.
“Oh… is it, like, withdrawals?” She whispers, too ashamed on your behalf to risk being overheard. You nod. You’re terrible at keeping secrets. Mariah is different from the rest of your friends; unwavering cool with an underlying softness, and little experience with anything harder than a “special brownie”. She’s more innocent than she seems, more innocent than a creature like you. Mariah doesn’t know what else to say, so she doesn’t say anything.
<3
You were clenching your jaw as you got off the bus, leaving Mariah behind. She calls after you, but it’s no use. She doesn’t follow or chase, and you disappear into the crowd.
You lock yourself in the stall and lean over the toilet. You’re leaning a hand on the eroding brick wall and bring the other to your thigh. You open your mouth, and the vomit just slides out, leaking like a faucet. It had come up somewhere along the bus ride, but you weren’t about to just start puking all over yourself. You had swallowed as much as you could, but now you could feel it coming back up. You drop to your knees, probably bruising against the dirty tiles, and hunch over the toilet bowl. Your mouth suddenly tastes like milk and cereal again, and you look down at the rainbow mass in the toilet. At some point during your little puke sesh, the empty restroom became alight with noise. A giggling and gossiping cancerous mass infect the dingy room, only quieting when you begin to gag and puke up some more of your breakfast. Keeping quiet is no use, and you know the bitches outside the door can hear you now. Someone gasps and another giggles, soft mutters of holy shit and what the fuck fill the empty spaces between each gag and cough. When you were done, you stayed there, silent, for a moment, until someone began banging on the door.
“[ ]? That you in there? You okay?” Jessie’s hick accent is so thick, her stupid words so slurred, it’s difficult to discern what she’s saying.
“How did you…” You slur, some bile still coating your mouth.
“We can see your ratty little backpack.” A squeaky voice whines, making you cringe and bring your hands to your head.
“Maybe she’s like anorexic now.” Mutters a friend.
“Or pregnant!” A shrill voice squeals.
“Oh, hell no!” another voice gagged, and the group breaks into laughter.
“Not… pregnant…” You reply, what is with you and pregnancy today? Was that a sign? Please, God above, don’t let it be.
“Get out of there, fat ass, puking isn’t gonna make you prettier.” Jessie bangs on the door. Their words shouldn’t hurt, by now you’ve been hurt worse, but they still haven’t lost their bite. You feel so utterly small and insignificant in that restroom stall. It’s not as if you aren’t aware of how unimportant and infantile their words are, but that doesn’t stop them from sinking under the skin like venom. You aren’t sure when things became this way. Jessie had been your friend once, as children, but things took a dramatic shift in middle school. Her parents are hardcore conservatives, lived in the “nicer” side of town, your dad used to work for them, and you go against all their values. Now which one was it? Is it because you’re poor? Because your dad quit? Because you aren’t cousin-fucking hick? Hell, Jessie could be in love with you for all you know.
“Are you doing this because of some,” Your mouth started running before you could stop it, like vomit you couldn’t swallow, “like, weird sadomasochistic lesbian… fetish… thing?” The words were pushed out of you with each heavy breath. There was a mix of laughter, surprise, and disgust behind the door. You rested your head on your palm, holding your skull to dull the throbbing, but it was no use.
“Ew! I’m not a nasty fucking dyke, unlike you! You fucking… dyke!” The girl screeches.
You reach around for your backpack, thrown off in your haze. You rummage around, cigarettes, weed, something, anything. “It’s okay if you are…” You mutter to yourself, bringing a cig to your chapped, dirtied lips.
There is more screaming and banging, and Jessie had even gotten down on the floor to crawl under when a teacher barged in.
You were all sent to the office, luckily you were able to hide your cigs in time, though. They question you lightly, send you to the nurse, and she sends you to class. No true effort is put into your wellbeing. Jessie and her friends are given a stern talking to, lunch detention, and are sent back to class. No justice served, like the movies, just simply moving on to class. Utterly anti-climactic.
A counselor walked you to class, so you couldn’t skip. You walk in late to pre-calculus with Mr. Davis, being met with giggles and snarky remarks by your peers, which you try to ignore. You scurry to your desk in the back corner of the class, pulling your hoodie over your head to escape the prying eyes. But it’s all in vain.
“Alrighty, students!” Mr. Davis’ voice is booming. You could puke, again. “My apologies, Miss Jones, but I need to have a very important talk with the class.”
You hid your face in your arms, as the classroom quietly erupted into stifled laughter at your expense. Your brain was spinning, and your face was hot with humiliation. The only thing you could do was lull yourself into a dreamless sleep.
<3
The sound of the bell pulled you from your nap, the sound knocking through your skull as if it to crack the bone. You stand so quickly you almost knock your desk over, haphazardly pulling on your sweater. You zip it up to the collar, feeling exposed, and clumsily throwing your backpack over your shoulders. You speed out of the room, sweet escape. You make a B-line for the other end of the school. Through the commotion of rushing waves of students, you are able to slip out of the building and towards the football field.
The sun has risen on the dewy landscape, beaming down on you with bright hot rays. The wind chills, but the sun burns. You keep your hoodie on anyways, unable to help the bubbling insecurity within your veins. You hide away under the bleachers, practically tearing your backpack apart as you search. And, finally, you bring that little cancer stick to your lips, and inhale that nicotine infested cloud, feeling your body become warmed by the smoke. It’s not enough, obviously, it’s just a fucking cigarette. What you really needed was leagues harder than this. But you’ve quit, cold turkey or whatever they say. You’re running on pure love and spite… well, mostly spite. You were gonna prove to your stupid parents and stupid brothers and sisters, stupid Jessie and all her stupid friends, your stupid teachers, your stupid classmates, your stupid counselors, everyone you aren’t a pathetic fucking loser. Despite what other might say about you, you had a lust for life and a childishly ambitious mind. Sure, you had ruined your life two years ago, witnessed and committed many sins before you were old enough to even go to the bathroom without permission, but your life wasn’t over… was it?
You pull out your phone, you needed to call someone. You thought of the dealers on campus; Mariah, who only sold weed, and one Jack Petrović, a tall, creepy guy and the one of the other “super seniors”, besides you. Jack dealt with the heavier side of the scale, and, frankly, had some pretty shit product. You stare at the contacts in your phone; Mariah! Smith:) And Jack #6. You don’t know how long you sit there just staring, until you realize you’ve already smoked your whole cig. You groan and grab your crappy little black backpack again. It’s old and falling apart, you’ve used the same one since the 5th grade now. It’s then you notice the ringing in your ears. It’s not an uncommon occurrence, that metallic shrill is a familiar guest. However, the squealing in your skull is persistent, and only grows louder. The sound becomes so intense, you’re grabbing at your skull and pulling your head between your knees. Is this it? Is this how you die? After smoking a fucking cigarette? Eh, you had expected a worse death, but that didn’t mean you didn’t wish for a righteous one! You wanted something gentle, surrounded by your siblings and their children (like hell you’d have your own), if not, you wanted to go out with a bang, something to be talked about for years to come. But no, you were going to die with your cigarettes in your high school football field, probably to be found by a couple trying to fuck or your other junkie friends looking to get a hit before 3rd period, how ironic.
You’re squeezing your eyes shut, bracing for impact. Then it’s over. The ringing, that is. You’re not dead, though you think you are for a second. You looked up at the bleachers, “You fucking kidding me?” You hiss to yourself, “God, I really am in hell…”
“You… You could say that again!” A voice chirps up behind you.
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
Meeting Him - Part 2
Here's part two :)
Please give me any feedback you're willing to share!
"Hey [Y/N]! Over here!"
You stand on your tip toes and look over the crowd of people waiting on line to get in.
You finally see your cousin, Kiara, and your other cousins, Brendan and Leah.
You make your way through the crowd and finally catch up to them.
"Goodness" you say as you fix your hair.
"The line is insane! This place must be amazing! " Leah says gazing at the building.
"How are you doing? How was the bar?" Kiara asks.
You smile, "I met someone...a boy..."
Brendan gasps. "Oh my gosh, you did? Was he cute? Would he like me?!"
You laugh, "Actually, he's a celebrity. His name is Austin Butler. He's in the new Elvis movie"
Brendan, Leah and Kiara all stare at you. Their jaws drop.
"You. Met. Austin. BUTLER?" Leah exclaims.
"He is so hot, [Y/N]" Kiara says.
"Oh my god, tell us everything" Brendan squeals.
You shrug, "I don't know. We met at the hotel bar, we chatted for about an hour and that was it"
Brendan grabs your arm.
"Do you think he's into you?" he asks.
"I don't know!" you shriek. "He kind of checked me out as I was leaving and he did say "I never met anyone like you" before I was leaving. Oh, and he did wink at me" you rattle off as you retell the tale.
Leah jumps up and down.
"Ugh, he is so gorgeous. You're so lucky!" Leah exclaims.
"Finally! They're letting us in" Brendan says.
When you enter the club, you notice that it is massive and there are tons more people inside than there are outside. There are crowds of people dancing close to one another, some making out, others laughing and chatting over the loud music.
"Drinks on me!" Brendan says. "I just got a huge promotion at work and I want to treat my favorite people to a good time"
You smile. He orders you all apple martinis.
"To Brendan getting a promotion and for [Y/N] meeting Austin Butler" Kiara says as she holds her glass in the air.
You shake your head and laugh.
"Cheers" you say, as everyone joins glasses.
~
You wake up the next morning at 7AM with a pounding headache. Wow, you definitely shouldn't have had 4 apple martinis and however many shots Leah was throwing down your throat.
You rub your eyes and grip your head. OUCH.
"Fuck" you groan.
You turn slowly trying not to make the headache worse. You open the bedside table and fish out a bottle of Advil. Thank god you remembered to pack it.
You take a swig of water from a bottle on your nightstand and swallow. The only thing that was going to help get rid of this hangover was coffee...and lots of it.
You manage to apply a little bit of makeup and get dressed for the day.
You grab your purse, stuff some cash into your pocket and walk down to the lobby and out into the crisp New York City air. About two blocks away, you find a Starbucks. Hallelujah!
You walk in and order the largest coffee you could get and hand the barista some cash. You take a seat at one of the tables and take out your book.
You take a sip of your coffee and continue to read. The vanilla flavored coffee makes your tongue tingle. You were starting to feel a bit better.
"Wow, she even reads at the coffee shop"
You look up and Austin is standing in front of you with a tray full of four hot coffees.
A smile instantly spread across your face. He's wearing a white t-shirt, a leather jacket, black jeans and boots. He looks so handsome.
You blush and close your book.
"She does. She reads anywhere she can actually" you reply.
Austin bites his lip and gestures to the chair.
"Mind if I sit for a minute?" he asks.
"Please" you say moving your book to the side so he has room.
He takes a seat and puts the tray of coffee in front of him.
"You must really like coffee" you say, eyeing the tray.
He giggles and brushes his hand against a cup.
"I do very much, but this coffee is for my team. I have some interviews to do today. I may be an actor but I'm still the coffee boy when it comes to it" he explains.
You laugh, "Well coffee boy, what kind of interviews do you have to do?
He shrugs, " I have to be at the TODAY Show in...." He looks down at his watch. "45 minutes"
You place your chin in your hand.
"You should probably get to it then, huh?" you ask.
He crosses his arms. "Wow! Wanting me to leave already?" he asks sarcastically.
You shake your head and giggle. "No, I just want you to be on time!"
He smiles and runs his fingers through his hair.
"So, I was wondering...maybe after my interviews we could do something. I have a really cool place I'd like to show you"
You can feel yourself blushing again. You look into his blue eyes.
"Hmm, that sounds like it could be fun. What's the place?"
Austin points his finger at you. "Now, that is a surprise"
He gets up and grabs his tray.
"How about you meet me in the lobby, say, around 2PM?"
You hold you book closer and nod.
"Sure thing"
He smiles, his white teeth sparkling.
"Great, I can't wait. See you later, [Y/N]" he says and turns to walk out the door.
~
It's about 1:30PM and you are in your hotel room on the phone with Kiara.
"Oh my god, do you think it's a date?" Kiara asks.
You shrug and finish applying your blush.
"Maybe? I don't know but it's crazy. He is so nice to me, maybe he just wants to be friends"
You can hear Kiara sigh on the phone.
"I think you should just stop thinking and let whatever happens, happen" she says.
You nod, "Yeah, maybe I should. Well, let me go. I'm meeting him downstairs soon"
"You have to call me as soon as you get back. Let me know everything please!" she squeals and hangs up the phone.
You put your phone down and finish putting on the rest of your makeup and look in the mirror. You felt pretty and confident.
You grab your things and take the elevator down to the lobby. As soon as you open the door, you see Austin waiting on a large brown sofa. He was on his phone texting someone.
"Hello, coffee boy" you say, as you approach him.
He looks up and smiles, stuffing the phone in his coat pocket.
"Hi book worm, you ready to go?" He stands up and stuff his hands in his pocket.
You laugh at the silly nickname he gives you.
"As long as you're not going to kill me, then yes, I'm ready"
Austin shakes his head and laughs.
"You're funny, [Y/N]" he says.
You walk out of the hotel and start down the street.
"So how was your interview?" you ask.
"It was good, I know a lot of people hate doing interviews but I love it. I enjoy getting to talk to new people, meet new faces. I think everyone deserves to have their questions answered thoroughly and thoughtfully, you know?"
You love how sincere he is, how other people's lives mattered deeply to him. He clearly wasn't some stuck up guy like some other celebrities can be.
You both walk four more blocks and continue to talk.
"Okay, here we are" he says, holding his arms out.
You look up and read the old sign on the building.
Baumann's Fine Books - A Vintage Book Store
Your eyes shift to him and he rocks back on his feet.
"This is my favorite book store in all of New York City. It's kind of a hidden gem. I have found a lot of amazing books here. I thought you'd like it"
You can see how nervous he is trying to explain himself. You can't help but smile.
"Austin, this is so sweet" you reply and take a step forward. You wrap your arms around his body and bring him in for a hug.
You feel it linger as his arms wrap around you and give you a squeeze.
"Well, let's go inside! There's a ton we have to look at" he says.
He swings open the door and allows you to walk in first. Another point for him being a gentleman.
Your mouth drops as your scan the small store. There were books everywhere. They were stacked in piles, some on display, some in rows. It looked like the walls were made out of books!
"This is....wow" you say as you gaze at the walls.
Austin nods. "I know, I was a little overwhelmed when I first came in here but you get used to it"
You peruse the aisle and come across a section were older books lay.
"Oh my god" you say, pulling out a thick, red, book.
The title read, Gone with the Wind.
"That's a classic" Austin says, leaning over your shoulder to read the title.
You look up at him, his face is inches away from yours.
"This is my favorite book of all time" You run your fingers along the cover. The book looks about 90 years old but it was in great shape.
You hold it close to your chest and smile.
"I'm buying this" you say aloud. Austin smiles, "Good" and walks down the aisle to look at more books.
About 15 minutes later, Austin walks over to you with a book in hand.
"You ready? I just found an entire book with all of Shakespeare's tragedies" he says as he looks down at the book and flips through the pages.
"Wow! I love Shakespeare. You'll have to let me borrow that sometime" you say.
He looks up at you and winks.
"Of course"
You walk up to the cashier and place the book on the counter.
"Cash or credit?" the cashier asks.
"Credit" you say and fish your wallet out of your purse.
You unzip and immediately gasp.
"Oh no" you say, frantically looking in each slot.
"What's wrong?" Austin asks.
"My card" you cry. "It's not here"
You have no idea where it could be. You are always responsible and never misplace anything. This wasn't like you!
"It's okay, where do you think the last place you had it was?" Austin asks. He places a hand on your shoulder and you feel your body become warm.
"I....uh...I don't remember" you say, trying to recall where it could be.
You look down and sigh when it finally comes to you. "Shit. I left it at the hotel bar last night. I never closed my card"
Austin takes out his wallet and places his card on the counter.
"Good, now we know where it is"
You look at him and furrow your eyebrows.
"What are you doing?"
He places his book on the counter and smiles at you.
"I'm buying you this book" he says as if it was obvious.
"No, I can't let you do that, Austin" you say. "It's $135!"
Austin shrugs, "Stop it, I want to. It's something you really want and you deserve it"
You let your shoulders relax and you bite your lip. This man was everything you have dreamed of.
"That's very sweet of you, thank you. I owe you" you say.
Austin shakes his head and pays for the books. You walk out of the store and down the street toward the hotel.
Suddenly, Austin's phone rings. He fishes it out of his pocket and looks at the screen.
You look over and see the name "Kaia" on his phone once more.
He presses the side button again.
This girl Kaia had to be his girlfriend. There was no way it could be anyone else...you wonder why he has yet to mention her.
"So, when we get back to the hotel, would you like to grab a drink? I mean, your card is already open" Austin jokes.
You giggle and nod. "I'd love to"
You both arrive at the hotel and walk over to the bar.
The same bartender from last night was there cleaning a glass with a rag.
"Hello sir, my friend, [Y/N] here, seems to have left her card from last night" Austin says.
The word "friend" made your stomach twist. You didn't want to be his friend. You definitely wanted more than that.
The man nods.
"Yes, miss, you did. I have it right over here" he says.
"Please close it for her and take mine" Austin says and hands the man his debit card.
"Hey! Stop, paying for everything!" you exclaim.
Austin laughs and takes a seat on the stool.
"Don't worry about it, I want to treat you"
You shake your head. "Fine, then I'll be ordering the most expensive drink on the menu" You cross your arms and pretend to be mad.
Austin scoffs, "Have I mentioned you're really funny?"
You shrug, "You might have"
The bartender hands you your card and takes your drink order. Another chardonnay and a whiskey sour.
Austin's phone rings again. He sighs loudly and takes it out of his pocket and checks the screen.
Kaia.
You clear your throat. "So....may I ask you a question?"
Austin nods and hits the side button again.
"Sure, anything"
You look at him and try to decide how to ask the question but for some reason, it made you nervous so you couldn't get it out properly.
"So...like...what's up?" you ask.
Austin laughs and makes a face.
"Nothing much, what's up with you?"
You shake your head and get serious.
"I mean...what's up with your....life....like...are you....like single, married, divorced?" you spew out. You feel your cheeks become red with embarrassment.
Austin looks down at his phone and breathes in.
"Wow, you sound like a legal document" he laughs.
You smirk and throw your hands up. "I don't know, I was just wondering"
Austin sighs, "Um...well, to answer your question, yes. I do have a girlfriend"
You glance up at him and could feel the disappointment wash over.
Just then, the bartender comes over with a bottle of chardonnay.
"More wine, miss?" he asks as he holds up the wine for you to see.
You push the glass towards him.
"Please" you utter.
#austin butler x reader#austin butler#elvismovie#austin butler fanfic#austin butler fanfiction#austin butler smut#elvis2022#kittenlittle24#venxfinn3#queenslandlover-93#tubble-wubble#dre6ming
185 notes
·
View notes
Note
(I think I nearly blacked out writing this I was possessed by the divine Peterick spirit. I'm too scared to put this on my own blog but I need the world to hear and I think you'd like this ram me based on your fic ref list)
Not to like, insanely dead dove-ify peterick but something that swims around in my head SO MUCH is how it really does feel like Pete took Patrick on a whirlwind when he was just a kid. Some slightly creepy, hopelessly suppressed bi-curious in the early 2000s, touch starved, boystarved, Patrick-starved 20/21 year old falling in love at first sight with a precious, pink, stupidly awkward dork 16 year old. So much that he still remembers what Patrick was wearing. Doesn't care for his audio recordings that Joe showed him until he SEES him, yknow? There's an inherent freakness there.
Promising his mom you'll take good care of him and sleeping next to and on top of him, crowded and trapped in the back of a shitty van you can barely cover the gas costs of. Spinning around and shoving against him on stage and screaming in his mic and getting to take him home with you every day. Your golden ticket, a sweaty teenager getting into YOUR van.
Ugh and I could go on forever about it. How by ioh there's this inkling of Patrick growing up. Still so young but getting his senses. Seeing how real relationships work. He's in his 20s now. 22/23 and Pete 26/27 and seeing his grip loosening. He knows he's losing him. He's even clingier on stage, writing love songs about teenage promises and calling him before calling even his mom after overdosing. (Though I'm not sure if that one is urban legend.)
I think part of how bad the band dynamic was after Folie was that venom Patrick had for Pete. It's 25/26 and 29/30. Patrick sees Pete being sold as this tabloid figurehead and he's stolen his late teens and early 20s. Spent his last high school summer with this dickhead who can't keep his life together. Who fights with him on everything and he needs out NOW but Pete's holding on so tight he's drawing blood and then licking the wounds. He needs him.
Soul Punk being the flop it was (completely ahead of it's time, besides the point) and feeling like you've failed. Pete made you peak and dragged you down with him. You can't start over. So you give in. He asks to hang out again and you get those words again. The same ones that made your brain light up with their rhythm at 16. The drummer in you. And you go back to him. And things are scary and careful and you're walking on eggshells but it's nice. It comfortable. You sink back in and do 2 records back to back. He's learned. He knows what he's done to you but he doesn't have to apologize. His lyrics are his apology.
Mania being so polarizing, too. Trying new things and not letting it get to you this time. You've conquered each other, you don't need the world. You can write music for each other and yourself and no one else. And stardust is just. So so so full circle. It's okay. Everything makes sense again. You can dance on stage and Pete can recite his words to people and not just a recording booth. It's 39 and 44 and you wouldn't trade it for the world.
YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH OH MY GOD ……. what a wonderful little essay you’re SO fucking right!!!! something that has always drawn me back to them after drifting back and forth to them in bursts of obsession is just. like. every single little facet of their relationship that has developed over the years and how it all well and truly stemmed from this very strange, unnatural, curious, twisted, enchanting fascination that this local too-sick celebrity cursed/blessed with boundless charm and a too-big heart and so much ink and mean white teeth and dirty dirty hands had with this fucking geeky teenage boy with patchy sideburns and bitten-through red lips and an off-kilter voice that he was still trying to grow into and limp skinny wrists and a pudgy stomach. he took that teenage boy to college parties, he bought him gifts, he took him to the movies, he made sure to saturate every square inch of his life with this new world that this kid was being thrust into—partially by force. waiting with baited breath until summer break starts and taking him across the country with him to breathe into his neck and touch him and tug on him and push him around until he snaps and it feels so fucking good when he does. patrick’s entire adolescence and the foundation of the rest of his life was permanently altered through pete and everything that started in the summer of 2001 still remains to this day in little touches and glances and inside jokes and intimacy and tenderness and adoration that most people would kill to feel. it’s so endlessly, hopelessly romantic and there are so many wounds that have been pulled open along the way and then either clumsily or carefully sewn back up…..… all these moments of intense codependency and tragedy and violence and anguish and possession and desperation. they feel so deeply for each other that it’s manifested so many times in the worst that humanity has to offer. i’ll never get away from them because they will never get away from each other because they physically can’t. it destroys them every single time it happens. and that makes me happy
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hostage on Lost Revenge
Darker take on Ben’s kidnapping in D2. Probably some OOC characters and questionable use of weapons & mention of blood in inapropriate places of the text. Oh and Huma flirting in increasingly disturbing ways.
Don’t look at me like that, this is cheaper than therapy.
It also isn’t complete, probably (?), but I’m publishing it now, because I need to feel like I’ve accomplished something
„And one last thing,“ Evie smiles sweetly at Ben, and in the dim light of the Isle, her teeth look tinted red like blood like her lipstick.
Ben nods at her, to show that he is listening, and Jay and Carlos circle closer to them.
„Yeah?“
„Don’t ever go down to the port.“ She reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair back under his beanie. „Got it?“
Ben has obviously no intention of straying to the port, he’s there for Mal, and based on the little he knows, Mal wouldn’t go there. But still–
„Okay, will do,“ he agrees, and Jay and Evie sight dramatically at that, „But… Why? Is it because Mal is, well, fighting with them? The Lost Revenge, was it? But surely they cannot be that bad…“
They start laughing, louder than he has ever seen them laugh in Auradon; all three of them.
Ben almost flinches when Jay swings his arm over his shoulders and then again when Evie smiles blood red lips and ice cold eyes.
Even Carlos just shakes his head, almost in amusement, or maybe in fear: „Better the port than Hell Hall,“ he mutters and Evie’s eyes darken yet more with something that Ben doesn’t want to name.
She laughs again and shakes her head – she stands so close that her midnight blue hair hit him in the cheek – and finally says: „No, Ben. It’s because they’re all fucking insane.“
Then she clicks her tongue and turns on her heel, walking away as if nothing happened; Carlos shrugs and just follows her easily, while Jay grips his shoulder before he lets go, harder than absolutely necessary.
The Isle seems to be breathing, living, and definitely watching him.
Of course, Ben has no choice but to follow after his friends. For one, he has barely any idea where he is, or where the port is.
For another thing, the shadows seem to be reaching out to him, and there is something just out of his sight that sends shivers down his spine.
He tries to copy Jay’s confident steps, but–
Where is Jay?
He was there barely a second before!
A duo of children runs around Ben, almost knocking him off, and when he finds his balance, he can’t see Evie either – If he looks just correctly, the swirl in the shadows down there might be her, or not.
Good thing Carlos’s white shines through the Isle – right?
Right?
„Come on, Ben, what are you waiting at?“ Carlos’s voice sounds through the alley, muffled but clear.
He’d like to go home.
„I’m right behind you, don’t worry!“ answers Ben. They’re probably worrying about Mal, just as he is, and they don’t need to worry about him too.
So he just does his best of following the faint traces of white and red and clicking of Evie’s heels, whenever he can make it out in the ruckus of the Isle.
(The sounds and smells are making his mind go rounds; every now and then, a bright neon in the flood of darkness pops up and makes him blink and flinch.)
But he has to find Mal–
And before he can locate Carlos or Evie again, someone drops in front of him, almost out of the sky.
Within heartbeat, there is a metal hook in Ben’s face, and a deep voice in his ear: „Oh, look, what do we have here–“ the boy practically purrs, and presses the hook into his neck – with horror, Ben realises that the boy doesn’t have a hand.
He circles closer yet, walking around Ben slowly, and his bright eyes flicker between Ben’s face and a million different things around, before they stop and he grins at Ben like a Cheshire cat.
And Ben doesn’t scream.
„Well, whatever brought you here…“ Ben can feel his breath on his ear, and his heart races in his neck.
„I better show you around, Your Majesty.“
Partly because there is a hand over his mouth and a tip of a hook on his spine, and partly, well. If he screams for help, the Villain kids won’t go on and find Mal. He wants them to find Mal first.
So he goes limp in the hold.
Two more boys join them – Ben vaguely recalls seeing one of them earlier – and a girl. They effectively lock him in between them, and now Ben couldn’t run even if he wanted to. The hooked boy is smiling at them, smirking, and still, even as he girl prods rather hard at Ben’s ribs.
„There’s a good puppet ruler,“ the boy says, „Now, come along, baby king, I have so much to show you…“
(He is barely older than Ben – he can’t be that much older than Ben, can he?)
„Careful, Marya,“ he says, „Wouldn’t want to damage him before the Captain sees, would you now?“
The girl – Marya – pokes at Ben again.
And consequently almost gets her hand broken when the boy startles at her with his hook.
And yes, Ben still has nowhere to run, nevermind that he wouldn’t know where.
„I said–“
She bares her teeth at him and then ducks behind one of the other boys when he bares his teeth too.
The hooked boy turns back at him and smoothly says: „You simply must excuse their manners, Your Majesty,“ his voice dripping with more sarcasm than Ben has ever heard in his life.
„Lets go,“ he snaps then.
„Fuck you, Harry,“ pipes up Marya before one of the other boys puts hand over her mouth too. Consequently, the „Fuck you too, Gil,“ is a fair bit muffled.
Harry bares his teeth at Marya again.
The difference, of course, is, that Marya walks free within a second, while Ben is escorted in the heart of the little group, several weapons not so discreetly pointed at him, and hands ready to snap back at his mouth at moments notice.
There is still the dull pressure of the hook on his spine.
„Where are we going?“ Ben asks at some point.
Ben doubts that if he called for help now that anyone would come, no. His captors make no effort to move quietly or to blend with the shadows, instead walking through the middle of the street, and people scurry out of their way.
Harry cackles with each child or adult sent running – which only serves to scare yet more people off.
He sees Gil breathing in to answer, but before he can, Harry tsks: „Don’t worry your pretty head, baby king. You’ll see soon enough.“
The hook at his back urges him to walk faster.
And of course, soon enough, he finds himself in the port. He can’t see the water yet, but the air stenches of salt and rotting fish, and the people give them even more space than before, though a small group of children starts tailing them in respectable distance.
Ben coughs at the assault on his senses, at which his captors only scoff, and he feels his cheeks burning.
„Should I go tell the Captain we’re coming with a guest?“ asks the other boy whose name Ben doesn’t know.
The pirates – they must be pirates, mustn’t they – break formation a little, clearly more comfortable at their own land.
Marya almost skips ahead entirely before Harry stops her; she pouts at him the whole time.
„Nah, I want it to be a surprise.“
Left with no other choice, Ben continues walking. He can hear the waves now, and he’s walking on a pier so rotten it might just collapse under his feet. No one else seems worried.
He sees the ship now, anchored near the pier and connected by a narrow bridge. More of a plank, really.
They stop before it for a moment, and Ben has just enough time to decide that he doesn’t want to walk over that, or to fall into the sea. He is fairly sure he sees sharks lazily swimming around the ship in the murky water.
The pirates practically run over it, and with the weapon still at his spine and a hand on his shoulder, Ben follows.
……
He jerks his head, which is a signal for Gil and Gonzo to drag the boarding bridge onboard, and then he wastes no time in greeting her.
When Harry steps aboard the ship, the first thing he registers is, of course, Uma. She’s sitting on the command bridge, easy smile on her lips, and absentmindedly braiding Bonny’s hair; Desiree seems to be taking a nap at her shoulder.
She’s still wearing the blindfold, which makes Harry’s chest hurt in a plethora of ways he refuses to name. Nothing should be hurting his Captain.
He just hopes his little gift will make her day a bit better.
„Uma!“
She looks up and he smiles brightly, so much that it makes his cheeks hurt, even though or maybe because she can’t see.
„I brought you a gift, darling.“ In his mind, there is no difference between a gift and a hostage, and Uma seems to agree, at the very least.
„Did you now,“ she says, intrigued, and pushes Desiree off her shoulder and Bonny out of the way; she stands up in one fluid motion and walks to him, sure on her feet as if she wasn’t voluntarily wearing a blindfold. He steps out to meet her sooner and offers her his hook; then he pulls her closer and lays his real hand at the small of her back.
„I did,“ he tells her, voice low and deep, „But this, my darling–“ he gently touches the loop of his hook to her temporal bone, wrapped in the cloth of a blindfold as it is, „Did it not get better at all?“
„It’s too bright,“ she complains and he bows his head in acknowledgement it doesn’t matter she can’t see it and doesn’t point out the perpetually dim sky of the Isle.
„Besides, it’s not like there was much to look at, wasn’t there.“
Her fingers slowly slide down the weapon until she’s gripping his wrist, just shy of bruising, and raises his hand – his weapon to her lips, finally licking the tip of the hook. His breath catches in his throat.
„My apologies, my Captain,“ he drawls, amused, „It won’t happen again.“ He licks his lips.
„To make up for the grievous offence, will you accept my gift?“
„Oh, I don’t know, will I?“ She likes to play with him, doesn’t she? But what could he say, it’s in her blood.
„It depends on all kinds of things, doesn’t it?“ she abruptly grabs his hook, her rings clinging on the weapon. „What did you get me, Harry Hook?“
„There’s no blood yet, my darling,“ he manages to choke out.
„Correct that.“
A challenge, an order, he doesn’t hesitate: He turns around as soon as she lets go of his wrist and slashes at the boy king’s cheek, only just enough to draw blood.
„I suppose I do want to see your gift,“ she muses before raising her voice: „Desi! Get me the sunglasses!“
He ignores his pained yelp in favour of Uma, who smiles at the cry of pain. Sharp smile full of teeth and promises of darkness.
He can’t help but step closer to her again.
„I promise you’ll like it even more when you see it,“ Harry says, consciously ignoring the king’s futile protests.
„Oh, will I?“
„Uhm.“
She casually catches his wrist and raises it to her lips again, licking off a few beads of the red liquid. Then she steps closer and forces him to step back until he is pressed against the railing, because of course she knew where exactly they were, and then presses closer still.
„I hope you deliver on that promise, Hook.“
„Ugh, it’s too bright,“ she complains again, sighing dramatically, and Harry would like to paint the entire sky black, thank you for asking.
She steps a bit away again, and suddenly flings her captain hat at his chest: „Hold this,“ she tells him.
She takes off her blindfold – her eyes closed – and trades it for a cracked sunglasses from Desiree’s hand. If Harry focuses enough, he can see her brilliant eyes under the glass.
„Whatever,“ Uma waves his compliment away and takes back her hat, „This better be worth it.“
Instead, he says: „I assure you, there is nothing nearly as radiant as you, my love.“
With his good hand, he flips off Marya and Jonas, who pretend to be gaging.
……
So, to recap. Ben has been kidnapped by the pirates and more or less dragged down to the port and onto one of the ships, only to be promptly forgotten in favour of genuinely quite disturbing flirting situation.
Neat.
Being ignored was neat, at least, even if watching them made his heart race in all kind of ways.
His thoughts, too: Was Uma blind? It didn’t sound like it, and she did request sunglasses. But, what is wrong, then?
He slowly reaches his hand to the cut at his face: What is wrong with these people in general?
He should have tried harder to keep up with Evie and Carlos and Jay. He should have been better to Mal, so she wouldn’t run away at all.
Oh, and they remembered he exists again – he almost flinches under their stares, even with Uma’s eyes dulled by the sunglasses.
He should ask her what is the deal with that: So he does.
Moment later, Uma’s hand slams into the wood near his head (he flinches away just an inch), and leans too close in: „I am a deep sea creature, baby king,“ she says, „I am not meant for land. For dry air and too bright light–“ she laughs, a sharp, breaking sound, „At least the hard pressure you got right. Figuratively, of course, but I’ll take what I can get, won’t I?“
She smiles at him in a way that makes him want to run away, which, of course, sans jumping down the sea, is impossible.
She stalks closer, Harry right at her heels, and Ben stumbles backwards. One step and another, and another, until his back fall against one of the masts.
As on clue, the pirate crew cackles.
Of course they were listening in: who wouldn’t be?
However, Uma isn’t done. She snaps her fingers and smirks again: „Also, I bet with Jonas I can beat him blindfolded by the end of the month.“
„Oh, you so won’t, Captain!“ shouts a boy who Ben can assume is Jonas.
„So will, Jonas!“ She turns at him, eyes alight even under the sunglasses, „Out of the two of us, we’ll see who leaves bloody!“
„Knowing you, Captain, probably Harry.“
Ben has a very clear view of the self-satisfied smirk Harry pulls at that, and he is not disturbed at all by that, thank you for asking.
„Excuse yourself?“
„Why am I here?“ he asks again.
With the Captain’s stormy voice, Jonas raises his hands in defeat, and also disappears into the under-deck. Good for him.
Ben wishes he could follow, but he has a feeling that wouldn’t fly.
„You are a royal hostage: Isn’t that what pirates do?“
They all laugh, loud and free and detached.
„If you want money, I can get it for you. Gold. Ransom. What do you want?“ Ben pleads. He isn’t really prepared for the answer.
„Freedom.“
„Freedom?“ he repeats, his brain frozen, processing too many things at once.
Hostage. Prison. Don’t let go. Mal. Mal. Good and bad: second chances.
He wishes his thoughts would make more sense, but it will be fine. He just needs a moment to process–
He doesn’t get it.
Obviously, the pirate Captain doesn’t have much patience.
„Yes. Freedom,“ she snaps to his face, „We were born in prison, remember?!“
He bites his lip, and hopes the pirates won’t notice the tears in his eyes.
He bites his tongue instead of an answer, because what could he say?
„I know,“ he could say, „I am trying to make it right.“
He could say that, couldn’t he?
But… It’s not enough, isn’t it?
He watches as Uma turns away from him, Harry’s good hand at the small of her back.
She is right.
„Whatever,“ she says, „Someone tie him up.“
„I have nowhere to run–“ Ben protests, but she just laughs:
„It doesn’t matter, does it?“
#disney descendants#harry hook#uma descendants#ben descendants#evie grimhilde#tw blood#idk I just wanna write#do not judge me
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Miel de Bois (Serge Lutens)
(When this review was written, Miel de Bois had already been discontinued for several years. This article explains why. Out of morbid curiosity, I sought out a decant, which I wore in private with only fleeting regret. What can I say? Some so-called 'scrubbers' make you perversely glad you met them.)
The other day, I woke up with a headache the size of East Texas. I knew I was in for it the moment I opened my eyes: even in the pre-dawn darkness of our bedroom, I could clearly see that old migraine aura rippling around my head like the northern lights. By eight o'clock I was prostrate, racked with nausea and hissing like a Komodo dragon at the tiniest increase in light. Not even a double-strength pot of coffee could make a dent in that white-hot wall of pain.
Finally around four o'clock the beast began to loosen its grip. I got up and managed to stay up-- a promising start. I hazarded a warm shower, gingerly running my fingers through my wet hair (which during the migraine had felt alive to me, like Medusa's snakes). Afterwards (temples still aching, guts still iffy, but clean, dressed, and vertical) I became aware that almost a full day had passed without fragrance.
I'm already sick to my stomach, I reasoned. I might as well put on Miel de Bois.
My ambivalence towards bees and honey began in childhood, when I watched my father enter anaphylactic shock following a sting. He survived, but my child's mind converted the experience into a tidy case of melissophobia. It only increased when, at fourteen, I drizzled some local organic honey on my morning yogurt and ended up blue in the face from a severe histamine reaction. Until that moment, I'd been able to mentally separate honey from the terrifying little creatures who produced it. I'd loved its mellow sweetness, its sensual viscosity on the tongue-- but no more. Honey equaled danger.
Until this allergy faded away in my mid-twenties, the only thing not hazardous about honey was its scent-- and even then, the pleasure was dubious. As many others before me have observed, honey doesn't always smell like flowers. It smells like fermented urine, rutting goat, organic putrefaction, AND flowers-- a rather sickening combination, but one that I perversely craved. I once blew most of a holiday souvenir allowance on a tiny vial of honey absolute, which I was strictly forbidden to open in the family car. When this ran out, I mail-ordered tiles of natural beeswax, which has the strongest, sexiest, and most stomach-turning aroma imaginable. Products claiming to be made with honey (such as Lush's Honey I Washed the Kids) could not approach its queasy glory.
Perhaps the uneasiness provoked by the scent of honey is hard-wired into the ancestral brain. After all, wherever one finds one honey, one also finds millions of little buzzing maniacs, kamikaze-like in their willingness to give their lives for the hive. Honey and beeswax played a role in the Egyptian mortuary arts, being prime ingredients in the mummification process. An ancient queen might go through life perfuming herself with honey, then journey onward into death surrounded by its lascivious reek.
Sex, death, and the mindless hum of the swarm-- no wonder the scent of honey raises our hackles.
The first time I sampled Miel de Bois, I gagged. I kid you not, my friends. My sample being small and made for dabbing, I swiped an infinitesimal amount on my skin and did a quick wrist-rub. (Spray it? Are you insane? Even the smallest nebulized spritz of Miel de Bois would most likely be construed by those around you as an act of war.) That top note of piss-soaked latrine! Was Lutens kidding? Let the record show that Miel de Bois, and not Muscs Koublaï Khän, is the true anti-L'Eau Serge Lutens. This was the filthiest thing I had ever smelled, and I mean that as a compliment.
Repeated wearings (always in miniscule increments) gradually enabled me to steel myself against that shocking opener. With patience, Miel de Bois eventually transformed into a creamy, sensual floral with a graceful heliotropic ripple. Granted, you have a good half an hour of nausea to endure before you get there-- but once you get there, ooooh. I would not wear Miel de Bois in public for a million dollars. But I'd sure as hell wear it to bed.
If I believed in reincarnation, I would say that I met Miel de Bois before under dire circumstances. Its archaic scent of honeyed oudh pushed every atavistic button on my control panel. If you buried an amphora of Miel de Bois today for explorers to dig up a millenium from now, they would tremble with fear upon opening it and throw themselves upon the mercy of the old gods.
And they'd be right to do it.
Scent Elements: Ebony, guaiac wood, oak, agarwood (oudh), honey, beeswax, iris, hawthorn
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
I’d love to hear your lgbtq+ book recs!!
I hope you have a lovely weekend as well!
well now you've opened pandora sabrina's box asgdbhjq
okay firstly, lemme just link u to some recs we've previously compiled in the studyblr w/knives server: top 2021 books, lgbtq+ main character, trans main character (more recs incoming next month ;))
and now, to single out some recent(ish) faves:
(cut bc this is long)
exciting times (n. dolan) - contemporary fiction they say this is the closest it gets to sally rooney but i haven't read any of her books so i wouldn't know about that. i would, however, know that i absolutely love the writing in this one - barely anything happens and i rarely like plotless books and yet here i am, tabbing the hell out of this book
gideon the ninth (t. muir) - sci-fi horror fantasy it took a little for me to get used to the writing but oh. my. god. it destroyed me in the best way possible and i already have the sequel on my shelves, waiting till after finals to dig in (very much recommend it - feel free to dm me and i can tell u more)
the charm offensive (a. cochrun)* - contemporary rom-com
this had the lovely vibes red, white & royal blue has; i read it in a day and had a blast, it also has a main character of color and neurodiverse rep!
the six of crows duology (l. bardugo) - ya fantasy
you surely already know abt it, but it's among my all time absolute faves so of course i have to mention it
the raven cycle (m. stiefvater) - ya urban fantasy
same reason as with soc lol
things have gotten worse since we last spoke (e. larocca)* - conteporary epistolary horror
horror indeed. chilling, gripping, delightfully horrifying and fucking disgusting - i probs won't ever be rereading but man, it was a ride
damaged like us (b.&k. ritchie)* - contemporary romance
is this the height of literature? certainly not. but did i enjoy it and read it at lightning speed? i did. i really did.
the house in the cerulean sea (t.j. klune) - urban fantasy
a hug in book form. reading this feels like being bundled up in ur fave blanket, sipping your fave hot beverage and Vibing™
hepdale rain trilogy (c. paul)* - ya urban fantasy
i don't like werewolf stories. these books tho? had me in a chokehold. the characters are amazing, the writing is lovely af, and each book is better than the last.
the atlas six (o. blake)* - urban fantasy
some ppl hated this but me? it made me go absolutely insane. i was making inhumane noises as this took my heart and twisted it in like 5 diff dimensions, 5 stars, immediate new fave.
top secret (e. kennedy, s. bowen)* - contemporary romance
kinda a frat house you've got mail au. shameless smut ngl. a great pick if u just want sth quick, super non-demanding to read while getting over a book that ruined u lol
him (e. kennedy, s. bowen)* - contemporary sports romance
same as the previous, just with the hockey gays flavor this time.
cemetery boys (a. thomas) - ya urban fantasy
this. book. asdfsdghfjkl. my poor heart. just sweet and so soft, but at the same time amazing at tackling themes like your identity and belonging and culture and
simon vs. the homo sapiens agenda (b. albertalli) - ya contemporary romance
a classic by this point, but i read it in 2018 and def wanna reread :')
heartstopper (a. oseman) - ya contemporary romance
the graphic novel that stole our hearts <3 also go watch it on netflix everyone (if u want to Emote be consumed by warmth)
the magic between (s. hoyt) - magical realism romance
this wasn't exactly a fave, but the dedication reads "for all the bisexuals out there - this one's for you." and yes. the bisexual rep this world deserves
*contains (varying degrees of) graphic sexual content
okay i'll stop with that for now, feel free to ask for more literally any time. but bc i cannoT shut up and you have been warned, here are some fantastic lgbtq+ books i have on my tbr (recs courtesy of my friends with superb reading tastes):
the darkness outside us (e. schrefer) - ya sci-fi romance
my preordered paperback is on its way as we speak
in the dream house (c. m. machado) - non fiction
a memoir that apparently doesn't read as non fiction and tackles multiple incredibly important topics
if we were villains (m. l. rio) - contemporary mystery
i won't even say anything, this has been on my tbr for 6 years and that's that.
summer sons (l. mandelo) - urban fantasy (magical realism?idk)
this was pitched to me as "the raven cycle but darker and more unhinged". sold immediately lmao
heated rivalry (r. reid) - contemporary sports romance
hockey gays with a lot of angst
crush (r. siken) - poetry
iron widow (x. j. zhao) - sci-fi
the starless sea (e. morgenstern) - urban fantasy
19 days (o. xian) - manga
the gilded wolves trilogy (r. chokshi) - historical fantasy
if you have any recs for me (any genre), definitely do drop them in my asks or dms and if you ever run out of books of a specific genre to read or just wanna scream about a book, you know where to find me ✨
#(most of the books i recced in the previous ask are also lgbtq+)#right now i'm most excited to read the darkness outside us and heated rivalry#books#lgbtq#lgbtq+#book recs#bookblr#sabrinas posts#sabrinas mail#sabrinas other
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yandere Nagito Komaeda x Female Reader
Reposted from @dragondemoness
Warnings: Yelling, swearing, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of blood and killing
You were popular among the other Ultimates at Hope’s Peak Academy.
Though your talent wasn’t all that special, your looks, and more importantly, your personality made up for it.
You were kind, friendly, charismatic and funny.
You charmed everyone you met, had a conversation with, or even just said hello to. Your sense of humor was so great, you could make anyone laugh with a simple statement.
You made friends with anyone, and everyone.
But it wouldn’t be long before you lost it all.
You were just going about your day, going to school with the other Ultimates like always, when out of nowhere, a white-haired boy walks up to you and starts a conversation with you.
Your next class was going to start in less than two minutes, but you didn’t want to be rude and blow him off, so you decided to appease him for a little longer.
Before you knew it, it was five minutes after the bell rang and the hallway was completely empty.
You were alone with him.
Once the boy realized this, his friendly demeanor changed to an insane and obsessive one.
Without warning, he tightly wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. You didn’t even have time to be surprised as he pulled out a cloth and smothered your face with it.
You tried to push him away, but his arm was so tightly locked around your waist, you were sure it would leave a mark.
But as quickly as it happened, everything went black.
You woke up in a dark basement, with your hands bound together and a pounding headache.
Everything was blurry as your sleepy eyes looked around and tried to register your surroundings.
But the sleep quickly left your eyes when you heard a door open.
Your heart beat faster and faster with fear when you heard footsteps descending the stairs.
You look up to see a tall white-haired male, with swirly eyes and an insane smile. What disturbed you most was the stains of blood on his clothes and hands.
He kneeled down in front of you, and tilted your chin up to face him.
“Well, hello, (Name). How are you feeling?”
His smile repulsed you.
“Who are you?” You asked.
It just occured to Nagito that he never properly introduced himself. He just spied on you and watched with boiling jealousy while you interacted with other Ultimates.
He didn’t even introduce himself when he spoke to you earlier. Just waltzed right up and started talking.
“Oh! Where are my manners? My name is Nagito Komaeda, the Ultimate Lucky Student,” he bowed to you kindly.
“That’s a pretty terrible talent, isn’t it?” You lightly joked. To your further repulsion, his smile widened.
“On the contrary, I say that my talent has been very useful to me. After all, it brought us together,” he said with a heavy amount of lust in his voice.
You didn’t get a chance to speak before he continued.
“Now, bow down to me, darling! Bow down to your master!” He demanded.
Now you were just angry.
He kidnapped you, brought you to his basement, took you away from your wonderful life as an Ultimate, and expects you to worship him?
“What?” Was all you could get out.
“I saved you from that horrible life of being ‘friends’ with those ungrateful and irritating Ultimates! They’ll never appreciate you the way I do! You’re the most hopeful of them all!” He bellowed, wrapping his arms around himself.
Appreciate? Hopeful?
“I’m your hero, darling. Don’t you think I deserve a reward for rescuing you?” He said with a smirk.
“Hero? What the hell do you mean 'hero’? You kidnapped me, and now you expect me to worship you?!”
It’s fine, it would take you a bit to get used to.
“You’re not a hero, you’re just some psycho that took me away from my life as an Ultimate!”
Ok, now you were testing his patience.
“I’ll never bow down to you, you crazy jackass! Now let me out of here!”
Oh, that does it.
His insane smile and swirly eyes quickly morphed into an expression of rage.
He gripped you by the collar and pulled you close to him.
“Let you go? Let you go?! I already told you that those Ultimates will never love and appreciate you like I do! Why would you want to leave real love for one of those plastic idiots?! You’re mine, and you will worship me!” He shouted with rage.
He roughly pushed you back to the ground, and you let out a yelp of pain when your head hit the concrete wall. That spot felt wet, but you couldn’t move your hand to check if it was bleeding, even though you were sure it was.
Nagito calmed down a little bit, but he stood up and glared down at you.
“There’s nothing left out there for you. I’m the only one you can trust, that you can love.”
Nothing left?
Then it hit you.
The blood on his clothes?
He killed your friends. That had to be it.
As your eyes widened with realization, his smile returned.
“I eliminated them all so you could be mine. There’s no one left to save you. I am the only one left to love and care for you.”
You stared up at him in fear.
“Now, bow down to me, darling.”
#dragondemoness reposted#danganronpa x reader#danganronpa goodbye despair#nagito komaeda x reader#yandere nagito komaeda x reader
32 notes
·
View notes
Note
Now I'm thinking about Terry in the Red Riding Hood verse.
Like.. maybe Johnny was a bit distrusting of Kreese at first, but he's slowly being seduced. Kreese is cornering him, telling him that it's okay and that Johnny can trust him. Johnny's debating between finding a way out or giving in. Then... a tall, handsome huntsman shows up with an axe, staring at the display in front of him.
“Found yourself some pretty prey, did you?” He says, eyeing Johnny up and down. Kreese steps back from Johnny and nods with a toothy grin.
Johnny sees this as his way out, running towards the huntsman. He realizes he was so wrong when the huntsman’s eyes go dark.
“Oh, honey, I apologize for the mistake.”
“What?” Johnny looks between the men as the huntsman pulls him closer and tightens his grip.
“Darlin’ Terry there is with me.” Kreese laughs.
“We like to-“ Terry kisses Johnny’s neck, “-share.”
Johnny trembles, but not in fear; it’s pure arousal. He finds himself craving both men now, wanting them to take him. He takes off his little red jacket and lets his head fall as he whispers, “Please.”
Terry and Kreese sandwich him between them, telling Johnny how good he is.
(And maybe Daniel the real huntsman actually shows up later who knows)
Omg I’ve been contemplating almost this exact scenario 🫠😭 but neither of them were pretending to be the huntsman.
I could see Silver playing along a little longer before revealing that he’s no hero, maybe reprimanding Kreese with a grin that Johnny can’t see because he’s hiding behind his back, turning when Johnny least expects it, and grabbing him. I don’t want to say too much and ruin the entire fic before I post it, but yes, I do.
Ooo, but just as good: Silver as the one to lure Johnny into the house and Kreese as the fake huntsman; it’s not as easy for Silver, but Johnny wanted to go in anyway. He cajoles Johnny into taking off some clothes—his hood and apron at least—and tries to get him out of everything else too, but Johnny is playing hard to get, being a brat, and teasing Terry by letting his dress ride up his skinny thighs, giving him a peek at where his white stockings end; soft skin that Terry can't wait to sink his teeth into.
And Silver doesn’t see the point in keeping his self control when he already has his prey right where he wants it.
When Kreese gets home, he first notices the torn dress on the floor, then, immediately after, Terry, on the floor between a pretty boy's legs and fucking him roughly, gripping the boy’s hips tight. And when Johnny sees Kreese, who really looks like he would be a hero, ax in hand and classically handsome, he widens his pretty blue eyes and gives Kreese the innocent look that usually gets him out of trouble, weakly starting to push on Terry’s broad shoulders and struggle, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t just clinging to him and very much enjoying himself.
I’m insane about this🫠 I don’t just want it to be smutty and fucked up but I want it to be somewhat angsty too.
#Krilverlaw#Johnny all dainty sandwiched between Terry and Kreese🫠🫠🫠#I love the idea of Daniel as the real hunstman#wielding and ax with that innocent face#but he's supposed to be the hero/good guy so it fits him the most#Poor little guy with a crush on the pretty blonde that works at the bakery who barely knows he exists#finding that same crush getting RUINED by two giant men
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
@terrorgone cont. from [x]
Like it or not, Mia’s brief career pivot to “Thing in The Dungeon” had its perks. Less cops, for one. No bills to pay, no maids to babysit, and best of all? No fucking Backstreet Boys.
That fucking acoustic guitar comes on and Milena’s little twink fingers are cranking the volume as far as the tinny radio will go. Mia’s head lolls back, eyes rolling up and into her sockets, Exorcist-style. 90s pop brings her back to middle school, one long memory of hand-me-down clothes and gub’mint breakfast slop at the ass-crack of dawn. Just thinking about it almost has her fiending for extra-strength aspirin. Almost.
It’s Milena’s granny-tier driving that’s got Mia’s temples throbbing. She stops at every empty intersection, yielding right-of-way to a pair of ducks waddling along the dirt road. Thirty minutes on country backroads and the speedometer has yet to hit a decent number.
❝ Holy shit, ❞ The first swear of the day is more invigorating than a cup of coffee. God. Setting a good example for Rose just might kill her, ❝ My grandmother drives faster than you, and she’s dead. ❞
Fuck it. Milena wants to drive like a city-slicker? Cut into bitches like her sugar momma’s claws? Mia’s got a great solution.
Her car window’s down in a matter of seconds, submachine gun pointing at the clear blue sky. Shooting at full auto’s easier than falling asleep. Spent 9mm casings cascade into the car as the harsh pop of gunfire reverberates throughout the Romanian countryside. Whatever bloodthirsty Lycans lurk in those woods are sure to have heard.
Mia turns to Milena and grins.
❝ Gun it. ❞
It’s a slow process, becoming indoctrinated by the modern world. Milena has been kept on ever such a tight leash, everything beneath her mistress’ watchful eye -- everything kept tailored and trimmed to just how Mother Miranda told them that it must be. There had been no modern music, strict limits on modern machines... And then Mia Winters had come along. At first, Milena admits, this had been much to her distress. At first, she had seen absolutely nothing redeeming in the other woman -- and much of the time she still does not. But things have been, admittedly, better since the Winters woman’s influence. Miranda dead. Modern music. The Lady had even permitted her to begin learning how to drive. Unfortunately, the only person available who actually know how to drive is --
Milena shoots a withering glare at her and turns up the radio again in an attempt to drown her out. The things that Nick, Howie, AJ, Brian, and Kevin have to say to her during her third play of I Want It That Way are much more important than anything that Mia Winters could ever come up with. Winters has never been respectful of anything under any circumstances, but she could at least be quiet and keep her groaning to a minimum.
“No she doesn’t,” Milena snaps back immediately, indicating and looking left, then right, and then left again before pulling out at a crossroad.
“There’s nothing wrong with the speed I’m going, it’s not like we’re in a hurry to get anywhere.” She checks her rearview mirror, gives a little smile at the sight of the castle looming in the distance, and prepares to recite something that Hilda had taught her only a day or two earlier.
“Better to get there a little later and in one piece than to--... wait wait wait! What are you doing?!”
She catches Mia just as the gun is pointed out of the window and at the sky, her head flipping frantically between the road ahead and the gun in the idiot’s hand. The shots ring out into the silence of the village and Milena’s face pales.
“What are you doing?!” she yells this time, her grip on the steering wheel becoming white knuckled. “Are you insane?!”
1 note
·
View note
Last Seen Blogs
