#Throttle Response | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

argumate · 4 months ago

Text

So, reports of an unprecedented egg “shortage” are exaggerated. Nonetheless, egg prices — and egg company profits — have gone through the roof. Cal-Maine Foods — the largest egg producer and the only one that publishes its financial data as a publicly traded company — has been making more money than ever. It’s annual gross profits in the past three years have floated between 3 and 6 times what it used to earn before the avian flu epidemic started — breaking $1 billion for the first time in the company’s history. All of this extra profit is coming from higher selling prices, which have been earning Cal-Maine unprecedented 50-170 percent margins over farm production costs per dozen. Taking Cal-Maine as the “bellwether” for the industry’s largest firms — as people in the egg business do — we can be pretty confident that the other large egg producers are also raking in profits off the relatively small dip in egg production.

High persistent profits are an anomaly for the industry. Historically, egg producers have responded to avian flu epidemics—and the temporary rise in egg prices that often accompanies them—by quickly rebuilding and expanding their flocks of egg-laying hens. “Fowl plagues”—as these epidemics used to be called—have been with us since at least the 19th century. Most recently, large-scale avian flu epidemics hit egg farms in 2015 and 1983-1984. The egg industry responded to both of these destructive events by sprinting to rebuild and expand the egg-laying hen flock — something which checked price increases and ultimately made sure prices went back to pre-epidemic levels within a reasonable time.

As Cal-Maine Foods explained in its 2007 Annual Report: “In the past, during periods of high profitability, shell egg producers have tended to increase the number of layers in production with a resulting increase in the supply of shell eggs, which generally has caused a drop in shell egg prices until supply and demand return to balance.”

This time around, however, that’s not happening. Despite high profits, the egg industry has somehow maintained a stubborn deficit in egg production capacity. Hatcheries — the firms that supply hens to egg producers — have throttled the pipeline of hens instead of expanding it. According to the Egg Industry Center, the size of the flock of “parent” hens — the hens used by hatcheries to produce layer chicks for egg producers — plummeted from 3.1 million hens in 2021, to 2.9 million in 2022, to 2.5 million hens in 2023 and 2024.

Meanwhile, hatcheries have been hatching significantly fewer parent chicks to replace aging ones — nearly 380,000 (or 12 percent) fewer in 2022 compared to the year before, and even fewer parent chicks in 2023 and 2024 — leaving the parent flock older and more likely to produce eggs that fail to hatch. That could explain why, although hatcheries reported producing 125-200 million more fertilized eggs to the USDA in each of the last three years compared to 2021, the number of eggs they’ve placed in incubators and the number of chicks they’ve hatched from those eggs has either declined or stayed basically steady with 2021 levels in every year since.

As for egg producers themselves, you may be surprised to learn that they have added between 5 and 20 million fewer pullets to their farms in every one of the last three years than they did in 2021. As the USDA observed with some astonishment at the end of 2022, “producers—despite the record-high wholesale price [of eggs]—are taking a cautious approach to expanding production[.]” The following month, it pared down its table-egg production forecast for the entirety of 2023 on account of “the industry’s [persisting] cautious approach to expanding production.”

In other words, the only thing that the egg industry seems to have expanded in response to the avian flu epidemic is windfall profits — which have likely amounted to more than $15 billion since the epidemic began (judging by the increase in the value of annual egg production since 2022), and appear to have been spent primarily on stock buybacks, dividends, and acquisitions of rivals instead of rebuilding and expanding flocks. When an industry starts profiting more from *not* producing than from producing, it’s a sign that something isn’t right. It could be an innocent bottleneck. But when it lasts for three years on end with no relief in sight, it's usually a sign of something else that’s pervasive in America — monopolization.

As the coming installments in this series will detail, the fundamental problem in the egg supply chain today is the simple fact that every industry involved in turning an egg into a chicken and turning a chicken into an egg—from the breeders and hatcheries that create the hens to the producers who use the hens to make eggs—has been hijacked by one or two financier-backed corporations, with the incentives flipped from competing entities seeking to produce more eggs to an oligopoly trying to restrain the production of eggs.

On one end of the egg supply chain, you have two companies who control chicken genetics, the billionaire-owned Erich Wesjohann Group and the private-equity-backed Hendrix Genetics. Headquartered a short car trip apart in Cuxhaven, Germany, and Boxmeer, Netherlands, these private firms have systematically gained control over the supply of egg-laying hens to American producers over the past two decades by buying out or suppressing rivals and challengers. Today, no egg producer in this country can expand the number of hens in its flock — or even replace the hens it already has when they age out or die — without the cooperation of this duopoly. And, since the value of hens rises with the price of the eggs, when the price of eggs is high these two barons have a clear interest in keeping the supply of pullets to producers on a tight leash — so the high prices stick.

On the other end of the egg supply chain, you have the largest egg producer in the country and the world, Cal-Maine Foods.

Matt Stoller from his monopolisation/cartel report; something that has clicked recently is the way that business seeks to maximise profit margin over volume, which often leads to reducing production, brittle supply chains, high prices, and ultimately shortages.

in principle this isn't supposed to happen under capitalism, because someone earning high profit margins should be outcompeted by new entrants willing to earn slightly lower profit margins, until (in the perfect frictionless market) the rate of profit should be whittled down to the rate of risk free return (government interest rates?) plus epsilon (a little bit).

obviously this does happen in reality for a number of reasons, and the Problem of Profits is a fun question to dig into, but the problem of persistently high profits is a more concerning issue and appears to be growing across multiple industries.

antitrust law is supposed to prevent market concentration that leads to this outcome but has been toothless since the '90s, allowing dramatic consolidation across dozens of old industries (groceries, agriculture, pharmacies, television, newspapers) and of course new industries (tech giants).

government regulation often ends up favouring incumbents, but it seems that contractual arrangements between suppliers and industry bodies and buying agents to form tight cartels are a bigger problem: if egg prices are high you might think to start an egg farm, but you need to find someone who will sell you chickens and someone who will buy your eggs, when the industry is using every means at their disposal to cut off market access to new entrants.

and of course if you have access to the gargantuan amount of capital required to attempt a serious challenge to an established cartel, why exactly would you want to start a price war with them when you can instead find some other unprotected industry to buy up and establish a cartel of your own?

capitalism seems to have entered a phase of its development equivalent to WWI, where defensive operations by incumbents are more successful than offense by new ventures, keeping the battle lines frozen in place (presumably the soldiers dying in their millions would be workers and consumers in this analogy).

4K notes · View notes

clanoffelidae · 2 years ago

Text

i do not fear the hatman

#psych is just Not refilling my trazodone for some reason so attempting to knock myself out with pink pills #honestly i didnt take that much just more than usual for me #besides ive had auditory hallucinations while trying to sleep before and they just irritated me #legit shout-slurred ‘SHUT UP’ at the deep voice coming from the corner of my room #cause he kept startling me back awake #and it was pissing me off #also had visual ones and when they turned to walk through a wall i tried to reach out and go ‘wait!’#cause i didnt have my glasses so was squinting to try and see them #but i was only half there so it was more of a vague groan and an arm flop #was so disappointed 😔#but back to the auditory ones between the deep voice in the corner of my room #and the bird on the wall next to my head #i was seriously about to snap on god #they kept waiting until right as i was starting to slip under to make noise again #and on god i was about to warp myself into whatever halfway dimension they occupied #specifically to throttle them #so apparently my response to most hallucinations is either ‘oh. hi.’ or Anger lol #the steroid ones were different because the steroids were also upping my anxiety #the ‘normal’ hallucinations are just like ‘oh hi how are you’ or ‘I Am Going To Find A Way To Kill You So Help Me Mariah Carey’#my reactions to them i should clarify lol #those are my responses #half asleep lynx is just vaguely bewildered by strange presences #but otherwise unbothered provided they don’t cause trouble #yeah that’s fine you can hang out there but i’m going back to sleep hope you don’t mind #there’s cheez its in my bag if you want a snack #i have to wonder if this is partially due to growing up with cats #ive always woken up to the glowing eyes of a predator watching me in the middle of the night #they are my Family

0 notes

ateezlibrary · 29 days ago

Text

pink slip (m) • smg

pairing: street racer!mingi x street racer!reader

tags/genre: street racing au (fast & furious-esque), smut with plot, lots of dirty talk, rivals to lovers, sexual tension, one bed trope but it's the passenger seat, mingi won't admit he's jealous, dom!mingi x dom!reader (this'll be fun)

word count: 6.8k words

synopsis: mingi says he's the best driver in the city; you'd strongly disagree. after weeks of post-race banter and spending a little too much time with another guy at the meet, mingi won't admit he's jealous—and you won't admit you like it ...

notes: 18+ content (mdni!). my best friend won't leave me alone until she gets her racer bf fantasy fulfilled, so here we are. enjoy!

it was near impossible to hear the sound of your thoughts.

the crowd surrounded the starting line like vultures, their cheering coupled with the bass thumping from speakers hooked up in neighboring car trunks. you smile to yourself in the driver’s seat of your nissan 370z, admiring the newly wrapped black cherry exterior. she idled with her usual hum, no bells or whistles that you needed to rev your engine for. after all, it’s not like you needed to compensate for something the way some men did.

mingi’s ’98 gt-r skyline, on the other hand, resounds off of the garage pillars with a deep-throated growl. everything about his car screamed loud—the throttle, the strikingly red paint, the spoiler. it was a bit much for your taste, but you knew he needed a car that matched him perfectly. he revs his engine once, taunting you to play into his game. with a roll of your eyes, you wrap perfectly manicured hands around the wheel, the hum feeding into the adrenaline pulsing under your skin.

the race is about to start just as it always does—everyone clamoring in the crowd over who they’ll place bets on, flag girls unfastening their bras for the starting line. your phone vibrates against the center console and you glance down, scoffing to yourself at the routine message you expected before every race against mingi.

[from: skyline] try to keep up this time.

now bitter at the mention of your narrow loss during your last race, you glance over at mingi and his broad, cocky grin. focusing on the exit of the parking garage that leads into the abandoned industrial complex, the noise grows quiet as you zero in on the flag girl that steps into the center. she’s perky, a dangerously bleached blonde with the tiniest miniskirt and crop top that leaves little room for imagination.

i’ll have to ask her where she got that skirt, is all you think to yourself as she lifts her hand in the air, lilac bra above her head at the ready.

“ready!” she calls, the crowd cheering in response as if they were the ones about to take off.

“set!”

your grip tightens on the gear shift, foot tapping at the pedal as you keep the clutch disengaged. mingi’s engine roars beside you, eyes narrowed slits as he locks in.

“go!” she declares, lilac bra now left in the dust as you both launch out of the garage. the sound of the crowd grows distant behind you, now replaced with the scream of your engine and tires hitting asphalt. the course isn’t unfamiliar to you, a regular favorite when you and mingi would race.

like clockwork, you shift into second gear in one clean motion. the wind howls around you as the speed’s sheer force presses you into the seat’s leather. mingi hangs tight on your left, his car perfectly parallel to yours as you drive deeper into the complex of abandoned buildings. you can hear his gloating in your head, the way he tried so hard every meet to get under your skin and undermine your driving skills. it only fuels your rage—and your engine—as you pull past him, flames roaring from your exhausts as you trigger the nitro.

mingi does the same, and the shit-eating grin that graces your face reminds you that he’s probably cursing himself for not doing it sooner. the race continues around the complex in a roaring dance, waving and weaning through a mess of scaffolding and crumbling warehouses when you’re faced with one last turn to return to the garage.

he’s just milliseconds short of braking after you, throwing him a few feet wide as you barrel into the garage. your tires screech and echo throughout the floors, silencing as you slow to a stop and mingi pulls in just about half a car’s length after you. pulling your hair out of your face, your chest heaves as you fight to steady your breath. you don’t even take the time to look over at mingi, your eyes fixated at jongho as you await his confirmation.

biting down on his apple in hand, he chews through a final, “it’s hers.”

a contented sigh forces its way out of you, adrenaline pulsing against your veins as you pop through your sunroof with a resounding, “fuck yeah!”

the crowd hollers in response, your crew cheering from their section of the meet. you blow a kiss in their direction, graciously accepting the bottle of hennessy that yeosang runs over with to pour down your throat. the liquor warms your body, calming the nerves that had knotted your core before the race started. finally, you lock eyes with mingi.

he’s leaned against his skyline, clad in his crimson racing jacket that’s twin to his wrap. otherwise, his outfit is all black—much like your usual outfits of choice. to a stranger, you’d go together like it was nobody’s business. little would they know that there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d go for someone like mingi outside of a little friendly competition.

“what was that you said about getting used to losing to you after last weekend?” you call, cupping your ear in a mock attempt to hear him better. mingi scoffs, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he shakes his head.

“getting lucky doesn’t count,” he answers, his own crew passing drinks around their section behind him as they tune into the banter.

“oh, i don’t think it’s ‘getting lucky’ when we’ve raced this complex … how many times now?” you pull yourself from the sunroof and step out so that you can meet mingi face-to-face.

he’s visibly annoyed, something that brings you a sense of accomplishment at the way you’re also able to get under his skin. yunho, his right-hand man, widens his eyes in anticipation for mingi’s response as he sips from his red solo cup.

“next time you want my attention, you don’t need to do all that,” he chides, making your blood boil. “just ask.”

“is this a really bad attempt at flirting or is this just how you cope with loss?” you ask, earning a chorus of ‘oohs’ from the forming crowd.

“could be both. multitasking’s one of my talents, you know.”

“apparently, driving isn’t.”

“damn!” wooyoung, another one of your crew members, calls out from the midst of the crowd and you fight against the smile that threatens to tug at your lips.

“careful, angel. keep talking to me like that and i might fall for you.”

“good luck. seems like you’ll need plenty of it before our next race.” with a coy wink, you wave goodbye to his crew and sift through the crowd so you can take your car back to your own.

you practically feel mingi’s eyes firing daggers into your back as you take off.

* * *

the next weekend follows the same pattern—the sun dips below the horizon, the garage lights come on, and the crowd begins to form. neon lights hover from the rafters, casting shades of blue and green over the modded cars that lined the center lanes in rows. there were no significant races expected for the night other than a handful of petty bets, meaning drivers were planning to spend the time dancing and drinking the night away.

not like they wouldn’t have done that, regardless.

the engine of your 370z hums as you pull into your usual spot, closest to the speakers and furthest from the entrance to the garage. most of your crew is already there, hoods propped up and liquor flowing as they pass tools with one hand and solo cups with the other. the air is warm when you step out, quietly admiring the outfit you’d chosen for the night—worn denim miniskirt (thank you, flag girl for the store recommendation), black crop top and your favorite leather jacket that matched your knee-high boots perfectly.

“supra’s looking nice, yeosang,” you call out, earning a wave from him with a wrench in hand as he hovers over the front of his car. “you’re gonna need to show me what you’ve done with the diff mounts.”

“for sure!”

“there’s our drift princess,” wooyoung cheers, handing you the bottle of hennessy. “or should i say, drift angel?” you toss him a dirty glance before throwing your head back and having a shot.

“call me that again and i’m walking off with your ecu. let’s see you try to race on foot.”

“pardon me!” he croaks, pretending to be hurt as he takes a sip of his own drink. “in all seriousness, i haven’t seen mingi tonight. his crew’s here, though.”

“probably nursing his hurt ego after losing last week,” you guess, the smile on your face triumphing over any real concern you might have had.

as if on cue, the roar of his skyline cuts through the music, wheels slowing to a stop as he pulls into his spot with his own crew across the lanes from you. he lifts himself out with a long stretch, one that makes him look a bit like a cat. his hair falls in his face in loose black waves and he’s wearing a black muscle shirt that keeps his arms on full display. you look for a second too long, something you notice as you tear your gaze away from him and back to yeosang’s description of the ignition coils he’d been installing.

the night carries on and you spend some time saying hello to other crews and to get updates on their latest mods. they’re all happy to see you, congratulating you on your win from the weekend prior. you feign modesty, hiding your gaze with a laugh. mingi keeps his eyes on you the entire night, even as he spends time doing the same.

now that’s something you didn’t notice.

suddenly, another engine’s roar cuts through the playlist and the music lowers as an unrecognizable car pulls in. the driver pulls to a stop just shy of your crew and your pores raise as you turn, now on high alert. everyone’s attention is captured by the newcomer, the chrome silver mazda rx7 a beautiful addition to the growing collection at the meet. you can feel eyes on you as you approach the stranger, about to confront them when wooyoung bolts out excitedly.

“seonghwa!” he cries out, fastening the latch on the hood of his own car before running over. the door opens, and a gasp slips past your lips unexpectedly. the driver—or seonghwa, you assumed was his name—was undeniably beautiful. his eyes meet yours behind a wispy curtain of black bangs, his gaze still piercing as he offers his hand to you.

“this is seonghwa,” wooyoung repeats. “he just moved to the city. he’s been into racing as long as i’ve known him.”

“a newcomer,” you reply, eyes never leaving seonghwa’s as you offer him your name. he repeats it, the sound of his voice like melting honey as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

“pleasure’s all mine,” he drawls, leaning against the side of your car. “wooyoung’s talked about you nonstop. told me you’re a real beast on the streets.”

“i get around,” you shrug, though the smile on your face almost hurts. “wanna see what i’m working with?”

“love to,” he answers, his smile twin to yours as he follows you to your 370z. the pair of you observe what’s under the hood, commenting on the nice work yeosang had done to help you tighten your turbo clamps. seonghwa hums in approval and props his hand on the edge of the fender, just shy of yours. not quite touching, but close enough for you to notice.

“yeah, she’s got a real nice turbo set up,” a voice interjects, and you grit your teeth as you whip your head towards mingi. he stands on the other side of the hood, arms crossed with a lazy smirk etched across his face. “shame it’s doing more for her ego than her torque curve.”

“funny,” you quip, turning fully to face him with a scowl. “didn’t sound like there was much of an issue with it when i smoked you last weekend.”

seonghwa laughs and your chest swells with pride. you can see the way that dogging on mingi in front of a newcomer hit a nerve. he sucks his teeth, his gaze darkening in the way that he glares back at you.

“like i said, lucky,” he bites back dryly. “let me know if you can do it again with this build when i’m done with my mods.”

“sounds like i’ll be okay,” you retort, stepping a little closer to seonghwa just to pry at mingi’s fragile ego even further. his jaw tenses, and you swallow.

“you know,” seonghwa interjects, glancing back at your engine bay with a smile, “she’s got a pretty clean set up.”

“figure anything’ll look clean compared to a factory rx7,” mingi replies dryly, and seonghwa raises an eyebrow.

“factory?”

“mingi,” you scold, setting aside your petty banter for one moment. seonghwa was a newcomer to the meet, which meant he was deserving of a fair shot at earning everyone’s respect without being subjected to ridicule by mingi. “don’t be an ass.”

“you heard me,” mingi answers, completely ignoring you in the process.

“well, which one’s yours?” seonghwa asks, folding an arm over his chest and tapping a finger against his chin. “no, wait—let me guess.” he pretends to scan around the garage, his gaze falling on mingi’s crimson skyline across the lane. “the skyline?” mingi nods. “i like the red. easy to spot in my rearview.” you can’t help but laugh at seonghwa’s insult and mingi huffs, the tension between the two men beginning to earn a circling crowd.

“let’s test it, then,” seonghwa answers coolly, lifting himself from your fender and strolling to his own car just beside yours. he calls over his shoulder at mingi, “race me?”

for the next ten minutes, the tension crackles in the air as the two men line their cars up at the garage exit. seonghwa looks calm, collected in comparison to the rage that practically radiates off of mingi. you shake your head from your spot beside yeosang, taking another sip of your drink. you’d never seen someone beat mingi, save for yourself. you had to hand it to seonghwa—he had some nerve going up against one of the best drivers at the meet as a newbie.

“ready, set, go!” in a split second, a blue bra goes flying as the two men take off.

you knew mingi’s car like the back of your hand—he’d shown you himself the kinds of upgrades he’d made to his engine and it was a force to be reckoned with. on the other hand, you’d never seen seonghwa’s build and couldn’t imagine what was under the hood. they follow the traditional route for races throughout the complex, complete with the twists and turns that few cars had cut through in a time shorter than yours.

the garage is spared of any engine sounds for some time, music thumping when a flash of chrome reenters. you gasp at mingi pulling his skyline a split second behind seonghwa, his face like stone as the crowd surrounds them. if he were upset, he didn’t show it the moment he stepped out of his car and gave seonghwa a pat on the back.

“decent run,” is all he says, reclaiming his drink from yunho with a smile as he heads back to the corner of the garage with his crew. everyone seems dumbfounded for a moment by his reaction, a completely different response from when he’d lost races to you in the past. nonetheless, they all continue the party in full swing. seonghwa pulls his car back into the spot beside you, receiving a shot of tequila down the throat from wooyoung as his prize.

“impressive,” you call over to seonghwa, sat on the hood of your car with a bottle in hand. he grins, leaning over your hood so that he could get closer to you. “might need to take you up for a challenge sometime soon if you’re planning to stick around.”

“i’d like that,” is all he says, his eyes shifting slightly from your eyes to your lips. you feel your cheeks flush in response, glancing out the side of your vision at the way mingi had his eyes locked on you. in an effort to egg him on further, you giggle at seonghwa, leaning closer so that you were just a breath away.

“you’ll have to show me what’s under the hood,” you nearly whisper, looking up at him through your lashes.

mingi continues to glare from his corner, fighting against the rage that nips at his core. his drink is untouched, still in hand as his gazes remains fixated on you. the way you were in that little outfit tonight, his plans to tease you about your last race upended by an obnoxiously skilled newcomer. yunho senses the displeasure and leans against his shoulder.

“you good, bro?”

“huh? yeah,” is all mingi says, his eyes never leaving you. “all good.”

* * *

the next night, you opted to spend some time at yeosang’s garage to work on your suspension since he was out of town visiting his grandmother. his garage was peaceful, near an open stretch of land just outside of the city that you and the rest of the crew would do practice runs on. you admired the stars through the open bay doors as you worked under the headlights, a welcome break from the glaring leds.

the sound of an engine roaring outside throws you off, causing you to drop the wrench you were using to tighten another coil. cursing mentally, you put aside your tools and peer out of the opening to see who’d pulled up.

“yeosang!” a voice calls out, and you freeze.

what is he doing here?

“oh, it’s you,” mingi realizes, standing awkwardly in the doorframe with work gloves in hand.

“well, i’m not gonna bite,” you chide, pulling off your own gloves and moving over to him. “yeosang’s visiting his grandmother tonight. what’s up?”

“need him to take a look at my valve springs. he’s usually more light-handed than i am with them.”

“sure you don’t want my help?” you offer, already heading to his car before he can protest. “it’s not like i’m one of the best racers in our group or anything.”

“yeah, yeah,” is all he says, popping his hood for you to inspect. taking a closer look at his cylinder head, you almost immediately identify the issue with his valve springs.

“they’re fatigued,” you point out, noticing the wear-and-tear in his springs. “i’m guessing you might have put too much pressure on ‘em during the race yesterday. might want to replace them with tighter ones if you’re planning on getting angry and speed racing someone every time they insult old skyline over here.”

“what are you working on?” mingi asks, shifting his attention to your car instead. you scoff in disbelief at the way he shrugged off the way his ego crumbled the night before.

“trying to install larger injectors. need to sync it better to the new system.” you glance down at mingi’s engine, biting at your lip for a moment. “can i actually take a look at yours?”

slowly, mingi nods, as if he’s glad to take the attention off of his sore losses. he points out how he and yeosang worked on optimizing his fuel trims, the way that it was able to run his car more smoothly in turbo. that was an issue you’d run into before—it was difficult to keep your car consistently within a certain speed range when your fuel was less sustainable than in a car like mingi’s. he glances over at you, watching as you take in all of his information.

“matter of fact …” he trails off, glancing out at the dark expanse of open roads under the starry skies, “why don’t you test it out yourself? easier to feel it than me explaining it.”

“really?” you ask, a jolt of excitement at the idea of getting to handle a car as hefty as mingi’s. he almost smiles—really smiles—at the way you perk up at the offer.

“c’mon.”

settled in the driver’s seat, you suddenly feel a bit more nervous at the idea. mingi senses this, pulling your hand in his and over the gear shift. his hand is warm over yours, eyes focused on his odometer as you rev the engine. his voice is low, steady as he guides you into how to shift the gear so that you’d feel what he’d been talking about. your mind is muddled at his instructions, surprisingly distracted by the feeling of his skin on yours as you fixate on the readings in front of you.

“got it?”

“yeah,” you lie, shifting your focus to the drive ahead of you. like clockwork, you fall into the steady rhythm of shifting gears and listening to the differences in downshifting compared to your car. following the roads to the nearby lookout, you opt to test out how the shifts work on a curvier, steeper route.

mingi observes you in silence, the way that you confidently handle his car like it was nobody’s business. the wind whips your hair away from your face as you bite down on your bottom lip in focus. there’s something magnetic about it, the way you almost tame the beast that his car is. he was no stranger to loving the way handling his car felt, but seeing you do the same with such ease did something to him. his chest tightens for a moment as you round the corner, sparing a glance in his direction with a satisfied grin.

you bring his car to a stop at the edge of the lookout, city lights blurring into a myriad of twinkling stars down below in the valley. it was usually empty around this time of night and was a place you loved to come up to on your own. you lean back against the driver’s seat with a deep sigh before stepping out into the cool night air.

“she rides like a dream,” you comment, earning a raised eyebrow from mingi as he follows you to the front of the car.

“was that a compliment?” he asks, finding a seat on the hood.

“i’m complimenting the car, not the driver.” boldly, you take a seat beside him and continue to look out at the city.

“still can’t admit you like me,” mingi drawls, leaning back and placing his hands behind his head. he glances over at you, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes that you weren’t about to back down from. “it’s okay, angel.”

“i like watching you try hard to impress me,” you hum, trying to ignore the way that his hand over yours felt just moments prior. heat radiates off of the hood, a welcome warm embrace from the cold night. mingi rolls his eyes, turning his head to you.

“didn’t realize i was trying.”

your thigh grazes against his as you sit up, ignoring the way it sent a shiver down your spine. of all the weekends you’d spent at car meets together, bickering and going at each other’s throats, you’d never stopped to weigh the realities of what your connection to mingi was. you both were hotheaded, both cocky and full of yourselves.

“mmm, you were. trying so hard to race me all the time. the staring.” mingi’s eyes widen ever so slightly and you chuckle.

“i don’t stare.”

“you definitely do.” you lean closer, dying to push his buttons yet again. “if i didn’t know better, i’d say you were jealous of seonghwa yesterday.”

“of what?” mingi scoffs, his gaze shifting as you watch the thoughts race through his brain. “his rx7? he can keep it.”

“so, it didn’t bother you the way he was with me for the entire night?” you ask, finding newfound ammo in the way that you were able to make mingi jealous. whether it was because of some sort of feelings for you or sheer pride yet again, you didn’t know. you didn’t care.

“not when you’re on the hood of my car tonight, angel.”

“sure,” you scold, rolling your eyes and landing on the compression shirt that hugged mingi’s torso near perfectly. you look back up at him and notice the way his eyes had grown darker.

“what’s that look for?” you ask, smug. “you starting to sweat, mingi?”

“doesn’t faze me.”

“i suppose,” you murmur, eyes dragging over his face and lingering just a second too long on his lips. “but it gets under your skin.”

his jaw tightens. “very funny. keep testing me.”

“is that a threat?” you ask, unflinching as you hold his gaze. mingi exhales slowly, frustration evident on his face.

“you act like you’re so untouchable.”

“well, no one has,” you say, finally looking back out at the city as you brush your hand against his side in a movement that could either be a warning or an invitation.

“you just want someone to chase you.”

you arch an eyebrow, heat radiating from more than just the car at this point. your stomach tightens at the thought of mingi growing more frustrated, his muscles tensing beside you. it was a dangerous line to cross, one that you hadn’t even given much thought to beyond shattering his ego. “isn’t that what you’re doing?”

he sits up, his lips brushing against your ear. this is the closest he’s ever been to you, skin on skin aside from working on cars together (and the one time he’d held your jaw slack while wooyoung poured more tequila down your throat than you could recall). your heart pounds against your chest, almost like it’s threatening to escape. his body is warm beside yours as he leans in to you with a humorless laugh.

“chasing you?” he scoffs.

your smile doesn’t falter, fire still thrumming against your veins. “maybe you’re just worse than you think at hiding how much you want me.”

his laugh is low and sharp now, more breath than sound. you feel it more than you hear it as he lowers his gaze at you. “you just love running your mouth, huh?”

“you gonna do something about it?”

there’s a pause, your question hanging in the air as it pierces the tension you both have been dancing around for weeks.

hunger flickers across his face and his hand snakes around your waist, the other coming up to wrap firm fingers around your throat. it almost as if he wants to convince you he’s in control. he pulls you back against him, your spine arching slightly as his chest presses flush against you with ragged, uneven breaths.

“you think you can handle it?”

“i’m not scared of you.” you laugh, but you can feel how hard he’s breathing against his restraint. “just trying to see if you’re all talk or not.”

“get in the car, then.” his grip tightens and for a split second you feel him hard against your hip. the sensation makes you swallow as you feel his lips brush against your ear again.

“say please.”

mingi’s hand finally drops from your throat, only to grab your wrist as he hauls you off of the car after him. before you can catch your breath, he opens the passenger door and pulls you onto him as he settles into the seat in one swift motion. your knees dig into the cracked leather on either side of him, now with your hands on his neck. his palms instinctively settle on your thighs, forcibly pulling your weight against his. the friction lures a breathy moan out of you and a dark chuckle out of mingi. he shifts slightly, grinding his hips up into you hard enough to make you gasp. he smirks at the feeling of your nails pressing into the back of his neck.

“had plenty to say on the hood,” he snarls, lips barely grazing yours as he speaks. “i thought you—”

he’s cut off as you rock your hips against him, hands snaking to grab and pull his hair so that he’s forced to tilt his head back. the sound that he lets out is pathetic, something that sounds more like a whine than a groan. you scoff and press further into him, his cock hard against his jeans. his chest heaves as his hand leaves your thigh, reaching for the back of your head so that he could pull you close and capture your lips in a heated, messy kiss.

his lips are soft against yours but he is anything but. his tongue slips into your mouth, hands tangled in your hair as he presses against you. the friction becomes almost unbearable as he pulls away, catching your bottom lip in his teeth.

mingi laughs under his breath as you pull away from him, eyelids heavy from lust as you fight to meet his gaze. “out of breath already?”

“you’re the one making all those needy little sounds,” you coo, gasping at the feeling of his fingertips creeping up your thigh in slow, deliberate strokes. he gets dangerously close to your core, prying at the hem of your shorts so he could feel you through your panties. his fingers draw painfully slow circles around your clit, forcing you to jerk your hips against him.

“right,” he scoffs, relishing in the way you grind against the smallest of touches. “me.” mingi uses his other hand to pull you closer, his lips meeting your ears again in a desperate groan. “let me hear how good it feels, baby girl.”

finally, you comply after restraining yourself beyond the friction you allowed yourself. you let out a whine as his fingers brush against the hem of your panties, dancing between skin and fabric as mingi raises an eyebrow. he knows he’s getting a reaction out of you. even worse, he’s enjoying the fact that he’s the one causing it. you bite down on your lip, fighting off another moan as you glance down at him.

“finger me,” you coax in what’s more like an order, savoring how his pupils blow wide as you play into how filthy he’s acting. his lips part slightly, his breathing still ragged as he grabs your underwear in a fist and tears the fabric apart. you’re almost ashamed at how much it turned you on—almost. he retreats and extends his hand upwards, watching as you latch onto his fingers and glide your tongue along them obediently. groaning at the sound they make as they leave your mouth, he slips them into your folds without hesitation.

your body trembles at the feeling of mingi’s fingers sliding in and out of you, pumping and curling at the right spot every single time. his thumb presses against your clit and your eyes nearly roll back, head hanging at the sensation as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“fuck, you look so good riding my fingers like that,” he groans, moving against the rhythm of your hips that began to buck against his hand. your mind is clouded from the pleasure, the car window growing foggier from where your hand was pressed to keep you steady. “such a good girl.”

mingi continues his pace, hitting the right spot over and over again so that he can earn another moan from you. you can barely form coherent thoughts, your body moving on instinct. he shifts slightly, free hand cradling the back of your neck as he says, “think you can take more?”

you scoff at his bravado, slightly—but not visibly—disappointed at the removal of his fingers. you grab his wrist, bringing his fingers back to your mouth and tasting every last drop of yourself. his eyes are hooded with desire, tongue darting at the corner of his bottom lip as he watches you.

as you finish, mingi lifts you off of him and steps back out of the car. you glance over at him, not skipping a beat as he gets onto his knees, denim on asphalt as he pulls your shorts off. he leans in to draw circles around your clit with his tongue, humming contently as he laps up how wet you’re getting under his touch. you pull your thighs together, his head flush against skin as he slips his tongue in deeper.

“fuck, mingi,” you call out breathlessly, grabbing at his hair with desperate hands as he lets out a low chuckle against you. the vibration causes you to arch your back in response, in need of more of his touch than his fingers or tongue. he gets the hint, pulling away and brushing his tongue across his lip with a slick grin.

“you want me to fuck you?” he asks, lifting himself off of the ground so that he hovered over you once more. you meet his gaze, eyebrows furrowed stubbornly.

“i’m not going to say it.”

he reaches for you again, pressing rough circles against your clit as you writhe under his touch.

“say it.”

“i—i won’t—fuck!” he’s got three fingers slipping in and out of you at this point, eyes wild as he looks down at you expectantly. trembling against the seat, you gasp down air in shaky breaths as you finally cave in. “okay!”

mingi pulls out again, hands now reaching to unfasten his jeans as he slips his belt out of the loops. he looks down at you for a moment, his own chest heaving as he steadies his breathing. before you can get another word in, he’s had you turned over onto your stomach and your hands outstretched towards the driver’s seat. his weight presses firmly against your back, his arms surpassing yours as he fastens his belt around your wrists and the gear shift. he pulls on it as tightly as comfortably possible, your hands unable to shift from their position.

“seriously?” you ask, face down and ass up on display for him as he slides off of you. he frees himself from his boxers and you almost pity the fact that you’re faced away from him and unable to see what he looks like. you just know he’s big.

brushing the tip of his cock against your entrance, you can hear the strain in mingi’s voice as he calls out to you.

“hold on, baby girl.”

before you can reply, he’s shoved himself into you in one swift motion. you were right, he’s big—even so far as to say too big. he doesn’t ease himself in, going at a rough, steady pace without question. your nails dig into the leather of the gear shift, filthy moans and gasps slipping past your lips at the way he’s pounding into you. you can barely hear anything over the sound of your own pleasure until mingi lets out a string of deep-throated groans, telling you how good you feel on his cock and how badly he wants to keep fucking you.

he grips the roof of the car with a frustrated groan, his other hand on your hip as he steadies you to drive deeper into you. the car rocks with every thrust, creaking under the weight of mingi’s force as he can barely keep himself upright. your mind flickers briefly to your previous banter with him, the tension that grew and grew until it combusted with you getting fucked stupid in the passenger seat of his car. you don’t even consider if someone is watching, and frankly, you don’t care at this point.

“god, i’m gonna cum,” you cry out, legs shaking as you feel his hand press against your stomach. you feel every inch of him thrusting in and out of you, the sound of his moans mingling with yours and clouding every rational thought in your mind.

“that’s it, baby,” he groans, his own pace starting to stagger. “cum all over me.”

mere second later, you feel the weight of the impending climax fall apart as you cry out, twitching and trembling from the way mingi thrusts even harder to urge you to ride out your high. your legs shake under his weight, weak from hypersensitivity as mingi continues to fuck you.

“i’m not done,” he says, and you can practically hear the smirk on his face as he says it. his pace returns, harder and deeper than before. you’re overly shaken at this point, moaning every time his hips meet yours and your clit feels friction. he wraps his arm tightly around your waist, unleashing a final stretch of deep thrusts until his own orgasm finally approaches and a low, guttural moan slips past his lips. he’s dripping by the time he pulls out of you, settling himself and hurrying to his side of the car to unbind your wrists.

“thank you,” is all you mutter, reaching for your discarded shorts on the asphalt and ignoring the feeling of them against bare skin as you remember that mingi tore apart your panties.

the two of you sit in silence for a moment after getting dressed and settling, looking out at the city lights and the peaceful night that was a stark contrast from the kind of night you just had. mingi glances over, same as ever with his cocky grin and his hands lifted behind his head.

“hope you can come up with a few more compliments now than just my car’s mods,” he teases and you roll your eyes as you’ve finally come down from your high.

“we’ll see.”

#song mingi #mingi #ateez mingi #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #smut #mingi smut

898 notes · View notes

me-owte · 7 months ago

Text

Perfection

Sol being the perfect boyfriend. Is there anything that could be amiss?

SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT MINORS DNI !!! Use of they/them pronouns for reader and no explicit genitalia is mentioned Pre-established relationship, Sol beats up a pervert in front of you

Sol was perfect, the most incredible boyfriend you could ever imagine having.

From spontaneous dates at cafes or the arcade- where all expenses are covered by him before you could even think about offering your own cash. To the daily meals meticulously home cooked to perfection. Hell, the way his lips would worship your skin in bursts of affectionate kisses never made you feel anything less than a god.

"You're too good for me," you whisper under your breath, tangling your fingers through his two toned hair. Sol embraces you, cuddled up on your couch as a movie you've forgotten about plays in the background.

You feel him smile into your collar, briefly pressing his teeth into your skin before pulling back. The look in his eyes, lovesick to an incredible degree, tells you everything you need to know about the way he feels. "No pumpkin, you're the one that's too good for me."

Before you can protest, he's back on your collar. You yelp at the way he moves your shirt down to gain better access to your skin. His piercing is cold as he moves around, biting and nipping on any surface he can find. Your hands ball in his hair, and you bite back a moan at the way his tongue runs over the curve of your neck. Through whispers under his breath, you hear him muttering praises, a common sound whenever you two are alone.

"You're perfect..."

"Someone like me-"

"I'm so lucky to finally have you..."

"I'll never let you go."

In the heat of the moment, his hand slips under your shirt. And you choose to ignore the implications of his words.

He was perfect, and that word isn't one that should be said lightly. Sol looked at you as if you personally hung every star in the sky. As if you were solely responsible for the sun rising every morning.

As if you were the only thing worth living about in this earthly life of his.

You're in the arcade. You're on the side of a crane machine, peering into the glass as Hyugo tries to control it for success.

"Wait, wait, wait! Move it to the left, you're too far right-" You say, pointing to the spot where the targeted horse plush lays. Sol had gone to the bathroom at the time, leaving you and your friend scrambling as you try to win a plushie for him before he could return.

A fist flies into the air, making contact with a guy you didn't even realize was there. Sol, behind you, heaves from the recoil, glaring down harshly.

"Huh-"

"You... fucking pervert." Sol points down, eyes glowing with fury, hands shaking.

The guy on the floor lifts himself up, and only then you realize a cracked phone lays beside him, open to the camera app. "What the fuck are you-"

Sol bends down, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt. "I saw you trying to take a picture of their behind." The man's only response is a look of horror, realization that he'd been caught.

The bright lights of the arcade and scattered sounds of chatter override any attention that could've been brought to the scene. Sol brings his fist up once more, ready to throttle the man. "Hey, we're in public Sunny." The eerily calm voice of Hyugo slices through the tension, cutting through Sol's anger in a moment of realization.

"I oughta take you outside to deal with your shit-" He bites back, glaring at the trembling man.

"F-fuck this, go have your whore-"

"Don't you dare!" Sol's fist flies straight into the man's nose, pure anger in his gaze. He doesn't stop punching, and you grasp Hyugo's arm in anxiety.

"S-sol stop-" You say, looking around to see if anyone else notices the scene. Hyugo tries to stop him swell, moving forward to try and pry him off. Sol only lashes out, shoving his friend to the side.

"Not yet-"

Despite your pleads, he doesn't listen, punching and beating the man until he finds his punishment fit. When Sol finishes, you're shaking.

He reaches out to you with hands stained with blood that aren't his. When you flinch, his eyes go wide. "I-" He looks to the side, and you can't tell if it's due to shame or nerve. "I couldn't just let the guy go, pumpkin. H-how else do you expect me to react?"

You can't help the way you soften at his words, at the clear realization at what he had done shaking his core. You trust he feels bad, and you step over the unconscious body to reach out to him, hands falling to his shoulders. Hyugo moves behind you, grasping at the body to begin work on manipulating the scene.

You hold him and he all but collapses onto you, cries of shame muffled by your clothing. Blood smears on your back from his hands gripping your shirt.

"I-it's okay," You say, whispering softly into his ear. You put hand in his messy hair, patting it to try and give him some semblance of comfort. With a loud sniff, he pulls away and you expect tears to be running down his face.

The look in his eyes is nothing more than pure adoration and devotion.

He was perfect. From the top of his forehead to the tips of his toes, not a single part about him was flawed.

Not a single part.

His hips slap into yours with a passion you find yourself hard to keep up with. Heaving pants and choked back moans fill your bedroom as you're pushed flushed to the mattress.

Sol's cock fucks into you in all the right places.

Long enough to reach the deepest parts of you. The first time you took him in fully, it felt like ages before he finally bottomed out. Every time you stare at the outline of his bulge you blush knowing just how much of him had been inside you nights prior.

Wide enough to stretch you out deliciously with each collision of your hips. He always had to prep you before, stretching you out with his fingers and sometimes his tongue. Sometimes he'd get you to cum just from the foreplay alone.

Curved in such a way he targets that one spot that makes you curl your toes. As soon as he slipped into you, he wouldn't stop bullying that spot. Every thrust of his hips was more intense than the last, focused on driving you over the edge again and again.

"I- I love you," he moans out, pressing his body weight on top of you. His eyes roam over your pleasure filled face unable to constrain yourself due to just how good he was fucking you.

His hand slips between you, groping any exposed skin he can reach. From the curve of your thighs, to the rolls of your hips, to your nipples that rub against his cotton shirt with every movement.

"I love you-" he says with less shakiness, trying to steady himself despite losing his mind in the way you grip around him.

"My darling, my soul mate, my perfect perfect pumpkin," his rambling words barely make sense to your fucked out mind. He dips his head into your neck, biting down in a way that makes you scream.

Your hands run across his back, grasping at the shirt he's always refused to take off. Through the passion of his thrusts, he pushes your bodies together in an attempt to merge your souls into one.

"Sol- S-sol-!" You cry out his name, pushing his head further into your neck, encouraging the way he marks up your skin with proof of his existence. "I'm close, I'm close-" You chant in between gasps you can't control.

His hand moves to your jaw, gripping it tightly as he continues to lap at your neck. "Come for me darling, prove that you're mine-"

With that, you let go, holding him tighter than ever before as your vision goes white. Sol doesn't let up, continuing to pound his cock into you despite the sticky mess.

"Perfect, so perfect," His hips slow down to give you a brief moment of relief from the stimulation. He breaths in the scent of your mixed sex, going straight to his head as he circles his arms around you. Your brain is too fucked out to hear him, instead focused on leveling your breathing. "You're too good for me pumpkin... Too perfect for someone like me... How could I ever let you go now?"

You were perfect. To him, you could do no wrong. To him, you were all that was right in the world.

And now that he's got you in his grasp, he'd do anything to keep it that way.

THE SOL BRAINROT WENT SO HARD I HAD TO MAKE A NEW BLOG FOR YANDERE CONTENT 😭😭😭 Let me know if I should make more or send in a request eyes eyes eyes

First time writing smut like this... I wanted to show how even getting into a relationship with him, even if everything goes well, there's still that air of obsession and something being wrong.

Might explore the idea more but for now the desire for smut won LOLOL

Banner credit

Play TKATB here!

#the kid at the back vn #the kid at the back #tkatb #tkatb x reader #solivan brugmansia #sol x reader #tkatb vn #the kid at the back sol #solivan x reader #tkatb sol #tkatb smut #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere smut

2K notes · View notes