#amature art club

[wormbraind]

Ideas for your Undersiders boarding school AU, maybe?

Armsmaster as Mr. Wallis - the computer science teacher (he also takes care of most IT problems) that's always trying to catchem doing something illegal and get them expelled (fired in Rachel's case). He gets fired after the Undersiders find out that he put cameras everywhere (in an effort to catch them), even in their dorm rooms or the school toilets - don't know.

Headmistress Piggot

Hannah the American history teacher, she has eidetic memory and a special interest in weapons (she can name you the name, model and date of any gun you show her), maybe she also established a MMA club

Theresa Richter - CEO of Dragon cyber security (medium sized cyber security firm that helps the school with their network security). First met Colin while setting up the school's servers and WiFi network systems.

Battery and Assault - two PE teachers? And Rory Christner the rising baseball star that had to become a PE teachers assistant after he got caught doping.

Dauntless the arts and crafts teacher and amature video game designer? . Colin is very salty that Shawn's roguelike won last year's game jam, while his metroidvenia game got second place.

Amy Dallon - normal student at the school with an O- blood type. The hospital of the small town near the school lost their whole supply of O- blood last year, so she goes as often as she can to donate.

Thomas Calvert trying to become the headmaster so that he can approve the contract with a specific construction company (that he secretly owns) for very expensive upgrades to the school's campus

ily anon...

vicky and amy could be going there together. i assume vicky would be on the basketball team. she gets into a lot of fights and amy patches her up because she wants to be a doctor.

truly obsessed. if ppl love it this much i can write it

[shearah]

Gosh, that's kind of a hard one for me, I've been living on barely enough to cover bills for so long I don't even remember the last time I thought about vacations...

I did get to plan a vacation when I was 17, and being autistic-and-bad-with-change as I am, I opted for a resort in Majorca my family has been to before (we used to go on holidays ~once a year until I was about...13?), that was also run by the same company as *another* resort in Majorca we went to (I promise we didn't always go to Majorca).

It was a veeeery large hotel made up of essentially several different hotels on a huge campus with multiple pools and activity areas scattered throughout (I didn't really go to any of the activities - tried archery when I visited with my family and the facilities were kinda rubbish, but considering we we part of an archery club back home and both me and my dad are trained archery coaches we were probably expecting a bit much) but all the different pools meant I could wander off and find a quieter one if I wanted to. There was a river right down the middle of the campus with some really pretty bridges, I remember getting some lovely (but incredibly amature) photos of the lights reflecting off of the water at night.

It was all inclusive with a buffet style restaurant (the serve yourself kind, so I didn't even have to talk to anyone, yay!) and while the food certainly wasn't the best out there, it was nice enough and had a decent variety. While I can really struggle to eat different things, I do like getting to try new foods, and buffet style means I can put a tiny bit on my plate and if I like it, come back for more. I usually ended up sticking to the same few things in the end, but the stimulation of something new is nice :) they'd bring out huge trays of fresh croissants for breakfast and the desert counter always had trays of sheet cake and pastries cut into these adorably tiny little squares that I just loved. Not to mention, unlimited ice cream! Poolside too!

It was about a 15m walk from the beach - a nice sandy one, not like the cold pebble beach near my dad's place. Not only that, but ever half hour there was a little skiff that went down the river to the beach and back, so you didn't have to walk either. Set off from right outside the restaurant. Plenty of lovely souvenier shops (and some delightful smelling restaurants, but we never tried any since we were already paying for food back at the hotel). I bought a new little braided bracelet/anklet every day with tiny shells and little bells on them so I jingled when I walked... they all gradually fell apart, but I still have one stashed away in my jewellery box. :)

It was during school term time so it was cheaper, but that also meant it wasn't as warm - I can't stand being sweaty. It was late september I think? So still warm, but not too hot for my miserable british soul. I basically spent the week reading in the sun, swimming in the pool, eating nice food and playing pool against my brother (and winning ;D)

I think if I had to choose a vacation again, I would probably go to the same place. The only thing that could make it more appealing to me would be if my international friends could be there too, and if I could bring my PC with me :)

Realistically though. I think an ideal "vacation" for me that I could actually afford would have to be a week at home with no migraines, headaches or back pain, all my raid groups taking a break (maybe one or two can stay, the ones where there's nobody in the group I want to strangle all the time) and I get to spend the week not stressing about comms or work at all, I just get to do my own thing, my own art and mods. Oh, and bao. lots and lots of bao.

:) @bearbaitmegs

[hanji-cafe]

Palmarius (h.s.j.)

Summary: Han Jisung discovers the true pleasure of art. 

Cw: Sex (Unprotected), Swearing, I think that’s all! It’s pretty fluffy. 

Word Count: 3.4k

Han Jisung was good at a lot of things. He was captain of the basketball team, played club soccer. He was in the concert band, and his own little amature rap group. He was good at writing songs. He even joined a dance class for his physical activity credit. He was cunning and popular, but the one thing Han Jisung could not do well to save his life was paint. 

He hated it. 

You, on the other hand, were an art professor's dream. Your skills were as flawless as anyone could be at your age, your passion was unmatched, and Jisung hated that. Often he would mumble insults under his breath and grumble jealous remarks as he watched you succeed. Your good grade after good grade mocked his plummeting point total as he cursed the class. 

“I should have taken Shop class or some shit,” Jisung mumbled to himself as he watched another critique of your work where no one had anything negative to say. His blood practically boiled, a vein popping out of his neck as he had finally had enough. 

“Isn’t it too perfect?” He snapped, after raising his hand. 

“Too perfect, Jisung?” Mrs. Jung asked. 

“It’s boring. No mistakes. Aren’t mistakes what makes art interesting?” 

The rest of the class laughed and snickered at Jisung’s comment. After all, Jisung was a straight F student, but you didn’t laugh. You weren’t even amused. You only stared at Jisung in admiration for standing up against what everyone else was saying. Soon came the time for class to end, and you collected your bag leaving the room. 

The next day was the beginning of your next project, and you worked diligently, getting quite far along. As the time came for the class to end you stayed behind, finishing up the layer. Once you were done you collected your materials as usual and headed for the door when you noticed that someone was still in the class. 

Jisung stood there in front of a completely clean canvas, his face and clothes covered in what you could only assume were the oil paints he was constantly trying to figure out. It was an amusing sight.

He looked like the canvas, rather than the blank slate in front of him, and you supposed that was beautiful. Afterall, ever since what he said yesterday, you considered him a work of art, and his beautiful features crafted perfectly by whatever gods made him only proved your point. You decided, if the universe wanted to nudge him in your direction you were going to accept the opportunity with open arms. 

You began to walk over, softly giggling at the paint covered Jisung. “How do you even manage to get this messy?” 

“Don’t laugh at me, Miss Perfect.” 

Your smile faded. “Do you want help?“

“Of course you’d say that, Miss Perfect.”

“That isn’t an answer.” 

“No, I don’t want your help.” 

“I’m not perfect you know…” 

Jisung scoffed, “Yeah you just get straight A’s and praises from Mrs. Jung that you're a model student.” 

Jisung half expected you to put up a fight and bitch back, but your expression remained soft. “Do you know what your problem is?” 

“What,” he spat, “what’s my fucking problem?“ 

“You’re too tense.” 

“Tense?!” Jisung said, letting out a dry laugh. “Yeah, I’ll say! My skills suck!” 

“They don't suck, and stop yelling at me,” you pouted. “You were right yesterday. Perfect is boring.” 

“You’re just saying that.” 

“Art isn’t just a skill you learn and suddenly you can do it. It takes inspiration, effort. It’s not just precision of the hand, but precision of the mind.” 

“But also precision of the hand, which I can’t get!” 

“I told you. You’re too tense,” your said, grabbing his hand that was so tight around the brush you thought he might snap it in half. “You have to let the brush glide…” 

Jisung let you move his hand, spreading the paint across the canvas, leaving a bright red line. “Now what does that look like to you?” 

“I dunno, maybe a fucking line?” 

“Jisung.” 

“Fine. I dunno… a snake?” 

You nodded. “Paint it.”

“No I’m gonna fucking shit it out,” he spat sarcastically, before looking at your hurt expression. The way you looked at him made him regret his attitude this whole class. Your sad eyes and pretty lips resting in a pout, Jisung couldn’t ignore that expression. “Fine, I’ll paint it.” 

You watched as Jisung tried his best to paint what he envisioned his snake to look like. “This is fucking dumb…” he mumbled after each streak until he had a reasonable amount of them. Enough to at least begin to show what it was in his painting. 

“There’s your snake,” you smiled softly. 

“I hate it.” 

“Why?” You asked, looking over at him. “It looks like a snake and everything. You did a good job, Jisung.” 

“It’s just a long blob.” 

“Have you ever tried abstract art?” you suggested. 

“According to Mrs. Jung, that's all I ever make.” 

“But have you actually painted it intending to make it abstract?” 

“…no…” 

“I think you should start with that,” you said, picking your bag back up. “You seem to be too focused on making things look realistic.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“I have a class… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

“Okay…” Jisung said unsure as he watched you rush out of the room. You weren’t like he thought at all… 

-

Jisung let out a frustrated groan as he looked into the mirror. As he dried his hair with a towel, he spotted a speck of paint by his eye. He just couldn’t get it all off, could he? Frustrated, he began to scratch at the paint before his phone buzzed. 

“Great, another fucking F…” Jisung grumbled looking at his grade update. Barely a month in, and his grade was probably already past the point of redemption. He was tempted to just drop the class all together, but then again, there was you. You were something he would miss, the only thing really. He was just starting to get to know you, how could he bail out now? 

He finished drying his hair before throwing on a pair of sweatpants and plopping down on his bed before his roommate was barging in. The door slammed open and a backpack was thrown across the room on the desk chair, shoes being thrown somewhere in the corner of the room.

“Oh, hey, Ji,” Jisung’s roommate, Hyunjin, finally spoke up before plopping onto his bed. 

“You’re going to get paint on your sheets,” Jisung pointed out, but Hyunjin only excused his worries with a motion of his hands. Hyunjin had just accepted the fate of rainbow colored everything by now. 

Hwang Hyunjin, another amazing artist that Han Jisung had to deal with. Hyunjin was a graphic design major and was skilled in just about everything that you could observe in an art museum. Sketching, painting, sculpting, dancing, acting, singing, design, ceramic, fashion, interior design… the list went on. Hyunjin wasn’t quite as skilled as you, but Jisung was still envious nonetheless. 

“I failed my project,” Jisung pouted, hugging his pillow tightly. 

“Again?!” Hyunjin cried from deep inside his sheets. 

“I did what the cranky old bitch asked.” 

Hyunjin’s head peaked out, “But you didn’t make art.”

“Says who!?” 

“Okay, let me see it…” Hyunjin offered. 

Jisung turned away, beginning to get defensive, “No!” 

Hyunjin tisked before disappearing deeper into his nest of a bed, and Jisung stared at the ceiling. Both the boys slowly fell asleep with art on their mind. 

–

“This is stupid.” 

“Stop calling my techniques stupid, now put your hand in the damn paint.” 

Jisung pouted before begrudgingly pressing his hand into the pastel paint spread out on the paper plate. Before he could backout, you pressed his hand onto the blank canvas, and Jisung pulled his hand away, examining the mark he left. 

“Can we try something else?” 

“No,” you refused. “This is kindergarten level stuff. Now start painting.” 

Jisung pouted as he dipped a finger in the paint, and he hesitantly started to paint with the pad of his middle finger. Slowly, he began to grow comfortable with it, making mark after mark. 

“See? Easy.” 

“Okay, if it’s so easy let’s see you do it,” Jisung challenged. You raised your eyebrows at him before dipping your finger in the blue paint, and beginning to create what you imagined a sky. 

“How do you do that so easily?” Jisung mumbled, and you giggled. 

“Practice,” you said, continuing to paint. 

You turned to gather more paint on your finger when Jisung moved to paint higher on the canvas, causing his finger to accidentally brush your cheek. 

“I’m sorry!” Jisung immediately apologized, and your eyes sparkled mischievously before your finger was reaching out to tap his nose. His face immediately scrunched, and you giggled. 

“Payback.” 

“You know maybe I do like finger painting…” he said before reaching his hand out and pressing it against your face, leaving a bright blue handprint. 

“Jisung!” 

“What?” he smiled. “What’s a little paint? Didn’t you say that to me before we started?” he laughed, backing up slowly as you reached for more paint. Quickly he turned to run, but you were too fast, leaving a handprint on his neck. 

“W-wait!” Jisung cried dramatically, playing the victim. 

“You were the one that started it!” you objected, grabbing his face and spearing paint all down it. 

“This is my nice shirt!” Jisung cried, 

“Not anymore!” you growled playfully as Jisung reached for the paint plate. His finger only grazed the edge, sending the plate flying and landing on your back. His eyes widened in regret as you pulled the plate off your back, pressing it to Jisung’s chest. 

Once you both were completely covered in paint, you began to clean up the floor. “Mrs. Jung would kill us if she saw that..” you mumbled, and Jisung rolled his eyes. 

“Who cares?” 

“I do?” you said, wiping down an easel. 

“What she doesn’t know won’t kill her,” Jisung teased. “Imagine if she saw you helping me… she’d have a fit.” 

“She doesn’t hate you, Ji…” 

“I didn’t say that she does, but she’s surely holding a grudge against me!” 

“Have you ever considered that maybe she treats you badly because you shit all over art all the time?” 

Jisung pouted as he finished cleaning up. “It’s because it’s hard,” he whined, and you laughed.

“That’s why you work at it, silly,” you said, cleaning yourself up as you collected your things. 

“See you tomorrow then?” Jisung asked. 

“It’s the weekend…” 

“I need my lessons!” Jisung persisted, and you smoothly pulled the phone out of his back pocket. “Hey!” 

“Call me,” you smiled, typing your number in his phone. “We can work at my place.” 

“Really?” 

“Don’t you want more practice from your teacher?” you teased. 

“Y-yeah… yeah, definitely!” 

“Then call me,” you said with a confident smile before turning and rushing home to get cleaned up. 

—

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Jisung scoffed, throwing the books back at you. “I am not drawing this stuff!” 

“It’s just a woman's body…” 

“Whatever!” 

“You’re such a little virgin,” you scoffed, flipping through the book before showing another picture, “rather draw a man?” 

Jisung shook his head, “How about neither?” 

“Jisung, you need to learn more about the anatomy of a figure.” 

“I think I’ll stick with snakes,” he mumbled, turning away, his cheeks burning.

Your eyes sparkled with mischief, “I can bring one over-” 

“No!” Jisung cried. “Not a snake. A-a dog!” 

“What’s got you so flustered?” you giggled, walking up to him. “Just clear your head and paint,” you suggested, moving his hand to the canvas. “Paint something. Anything. The paint is going to dry out.” 

“O-okay…” he said, pressing the paint against the canvas, obviously not focusing on what was in front of him. 

You slithered behind him before wrapping an arm around his waist, the other grabbing his hand as guiding it. “W-what are you doing?” 

“I’m helping,” you smiled. “Isn’t that why you came over here?” 

“Y-yeah…” Jisung nodded. “It is…” 

“You’re so weird,” you giggled, helping his hand paint. Soon Jisung began to relax, and you pulled away. Jisung watched, admiring you. Your figure looked beautiful in the sundress you were wearing, and Jisung’s cheeks burned once again as you bent over to pick up the book on the floor, giving him a peak of your panties. 

“You really need to start painting people. At least try it,” you said, before standing up and turning around to face him. “I mean, even if you don’t like it, it’s a good thing to know. You know?” 

Jisung only absently nodded, not daring to take his eyes off the canvas again. 

“What is with you today?” you asked softly and walked over to him. “Is there something wrong with my apartment?” He shook his head no. Your apartment was beautiful, covered in murals and paints everywhere he looked. You weren’t the problem, he was. “What’s wrong then?” 

Jisung let out a sigh, before beginning to mumble, “your dress is very short.” 

“O-oh,” you said, your eyes growing large. You didn’t even think about that. “Would you like me to change?” 

“No…” 

“Oh, well…” you mumbled, before turning. 

“I’ll draw anatomy,” he said, turning to face you. 

“What’s the catch?” 

“I want to paint you…” 

“Me?” you asked bashfully, your own cheeks burning. After seeing that he wasn’t joking, you slowly reached under your dress to pull it up and off your body. 

“Shit…” Jisung mumbled to himself as you revealed your naked figure, your panties the only clothing left. 

“Well…” you said, feeling more confident by the way he gawked at you. “Get painting… paint me like one of your french girls,” you giggled. 

“Really?” he mumbled, not amused with the joke. 

“Paint me in this, and only this…” you giggled, pulling at your panties.

Jisung tried his best to focus on painting, on the paint brush and the colors, but after a while, he couldn’t take it anymore as you lounged on your white sheets. “Jisung?” you asked, rather amused. 

“Fuck it,” he said, throwing the paint brush behind him before approaching you and pressing his lips against yours. Immediately, you kissed back, wrapping your bare arms around his neck. 

You pulled away, a giggle dancing on your lips, “You’re going to get paint on my white sheets…” 

“Oh?” he asked, standing up before grabbing the paint pallet. 

“Jisung…” you warned playfully as he was dipping his finger in a pink paint. Before you could move, a pink strip was smeared down your chest in the valley between your breasts. “Jisung!” 

“What ya gonna do about it?” Jisung chuckled, pulling his shirt off. 

You giggled, getting up from your bed before grabbing a tube of blue paint and smearing it all over Jisung’s chest with a nearby sponge. He laughed, getting more paint all over your body before threading his fingers through your hair, his lips pressed against your own passionately, and you kissed back, pulling down his pants. Jisung let out a soft moan against your lips, one hand sliding down to your waist. 

Your eyes fluttered closed in complete bliss. You felt like you were on cloud nine as his hands pulled at your panties, the pad of his thumb rubbing against the wet mark on the fabric. He carefully began to push you back towards your bed, and you stumbled along with him before he was laying you down on the soft cotton sheets. 

You gasped as he pushed your panties to the side and teased your entrance with the tip of his finger, his lips eagerly kissing and nipping at your neck. “I want you so bad…” he mumbled against the hickies beginning to form and you whimpered, pressing yourself against him. 

“Please, Sung… I want you so bad…” you whispered against him before your hand was wrapping around his cock carefully. “I need you so bad…” 

Jisung let out a soft gasp before pulling your panties down to your knees, and then ankles, and then off your feet. He carefully laid you out in front of him, spreading your legs and rubbing the wetness of your folds. 

You gasped as he stroked himself twice, before pressing the head of his cock against your entrance. “Please, sung…” you whispered against his ear before he was intertwining his fingers with your hand, his cock pushing into your cunt slowly and carefully. 

The way that your wetness helped Jisung’s cock slide into you seemed like magic as the two of you fit together perfectly like two puzzle pieces. You let out a small whimper, squeezing his hand as he filled you up perfectly, his head just touching your cervix as he finished pushing all the way in. He was the perfect length and you gasped as he brought your hand to your tummy, feeling the slight bulge where his cock was burrowed deep inside of you. 

His lips pressed against yours, his tongue carefully entering your mouth at your permission. Slowly he began to move, his thrusts slow and full, hitting the spot inside you that had you seeing stars every time. 

“Jisung… Jisung…” you breathed, every time he thrusted into you, and as he began to speed up so did your helpless moans and whimpers. Your head was light like a cloud as he rubbed at your clit, sending your body jolting. You back arched against the white cotton sheets as his lips traveled over your breasts, his thrusts reaching a plateau. Your body began to shake, and with a loud moan you came hard around Jisung’s cock. 

“Fuck,” he moaned pornographically, before his dick was twitching inside of you, and he quickly pulled out before he was cumming all over your neck and the top of your breasts. You eagerly reached for him as he panted, and his body collapsed between your legs, his head resting just under your breasts. 

“That was so good,” you mumbled, your hands reaching to play with his hair absently as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. 

“I love painting….” 

“You’re such a dork…” you giggled, looking down at him before resting your head and closing your eyes. 

“y/n…” 

“Hmmm?” you mumbled, your head floating away as you began to doze off. 

“I think I love you.” 

“Love me?” you mumbled.

“Mhmm…” 

“I love you too,” you smiled, your eyes still closed. 

Jisung placed little kisses all along your tummy before finally closing his own eyes and dozing off himself. 

When you woke up, Jisung was still fast asleep on your waist and you smiled, beginning to play with his hair once again. 

“Jisung…” 

“Hmmm?” he moaned in protest before tightening his grip. “Five more minutes…” 

“Alright… five more minutes.” 

—

A few weeks went past and the new art project was finally due. You had spent so much time helping out Jisung that you barely focused on yourself. When you entered the art room you let out a gasp as your eyes fell on Jisung standing proudly next to a large painting. 

“Like it?” he beamed, and you nodded. 

The canvas was covered in a pattern of paint that beautifully depicted a faceless woman, sheer white sheets wrapped around her nude body, though the most important parts were covered by the fabric. Although it wasn’t a piece you would see in a museum, it was impressive for Jisung’s skillset.

“You really made this?” you asked, and he nodded. 

“I have a great teacher…” 

You giggled, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. “It’s beautiful…” 

“Look familiar?” 

You squint your eyes before looking up at him, “you didn’t paint me did you?!” 

“Not if you didn’t want me to!”  

“Oh stop it, you’re so adorable,” you smiled before pecking his cheek. 

“Han…” Mrs. Jung said, looking over the painting. Jisung stood there, awaiting eagerly as she examined his work. “I’m impressed.” 

Jisung’s face lit up with excitement. He had finally gained a good mark! 

Unlike before you were the one with a low C and Jisung was the one with an A+, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. For the longest time, you had hated your art, but now as you held Jisung in your arms, you knew that the canvas wasn’t your masterpiece, it was Han Jisung, and that was so much better than your ��perfect’ paintings. 

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[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Bet: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: While on vacation, Gojo makes a bet that Geto just can’t refuse. 

words: 1677

tw: nsfw, heavy smut, and bondage, baybeeee

Vacation sounded nice. 

When Suguru said “vacation” and “we” and “are going” all in the same sentence, you first squint your eyes at him, noting the last time he had said those words, you ended up sitting on the floor of the hotel watching a B-rated horror flick while he laid in bed, snoring the night away. But he promised this time would be different, mentioned a beach, and then had you hooked. 

The beach was there; that was a fact. You actually went to the beach earlier, splashing around in the ocean after making a very amature sand castle and burying Satoru in the sand. But now, you were sitting in the adjoining suite with Satoru and some girl he had picked up from a local club, your legs in Suguru’s lap while you talked, absolutely sober. 

“I bet you all of the money in my wallet that y/n won’t survive thirty-minutes of being tied up.” Gojo laughs, a long arm slung around the random brunette who giggles a little at the bet.  “She’ll be begging you to untie her before you cum, Geto.” Suguru tilts his head at Satoru, stroking your bare legs in his lap and calculating the possibility of beating Satoru’s odds. You don’t know how they got onto the topic of rope and the art of tying someone up, but here you were; the focus of this particular unwarranted conversation. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure… You’re pretty resilient - aren’t you, kitten?” He asks, patting your thigh with certainty. You just nod, half-interested in the conversation, half hoping they would just leave well enough alone and Satoru would waltz off to fuck the woman to his left. 

The woman in question eyes you carefully from her perch on the couch, fully relaxing into the white-haired sorcerer’s chest. Little did she know that this would be her one and only debut because Gojo never dipped in the same pot twice. Ever. So you effectively ignore her and answer Suguru’s question. 

“I’m sure I can handle it.” 

You really thought “tied up” meant both wrists bound or even a simple frog tie. But your hands are bound behind you in reverse prayer, with your legs tied up in some other position that Suguru had mentioned to you as he worked. You wonder for a moment where he got the rope and if this had been Satoru and his plan all along.

But the thoughts fade as you watch the sorcerer work his magic, taking care to exert minimal pressure with his movements and check the tightness with fidelity. The sound of the thick rope running through his fingers arouses you more than the positions he contorts you into, and before long you are absolutely helpless to his every whim and wish with no ability to move of your own will. When Suguru finishes, he runs a hand over your back, admiring his handiwork with a sweet smile. 

“It’s been a minute since I’ve done this…” he murmurs, peeling off his clothes slowly. His arm muscles ripple in the dim lighting of the room, and you feel saliva pooling in your mouth. “But you look just as beautiful as I thought you would.” As a final touch, Suguru reaches into his suitcase and pulls out a bar gag, looking at the device before deciding that yes, he would like to use it. “I need your consent,” he states, and you nod your head, eager to feel the contraption between your lips. A relaxing sensation sweeps over you after the gag is put into place, and you rest your head on the sheets in surrender. 

“You’re being so good for me tonight,” your lover coos, swiping a hand over your pussy. You groan at the contact, constricting on nothingness until he slides a finger into you. You quickly discover that the gag is a barrier to all speech except the guttural sounds you make, and your desire to be vocal about your pleasure heightens. Now that you can’t touch yourself, the sensations are enhanced exponentially, and you squirm beneath Suguru’s touch. “If something doesn’t feel right, I need you to shake your head twice, understand?” You nod, and he adds a finger while tugging on an exposed nipple. The sound that wrenches itself from your throat is needy and heady and absolutely filled with lust, and your head begins to spin. 

Suguru removes his fingers quickly, making you cry out, but it isn’t long before they’re replaced with his cock nudging at your entrance. When he enters you, you hear him mutter a long string of curses, more than he’s ever uttered before in one sentence to your knowledge. 

“Oh my fucking god, this shit is so motherfucking good.” You whimper when he begins to move inside of you, the familiar wet slapping sounds filling the room. You hope Satoru and his little plaything can’t hear you enjoying yourself, but you’re sure Suguru has plans to make your moans the soundtrack of the night. As you jostle back and forth with each stroke, there’s a distinct sense of pain you feel from the rope against your skin. Not that it was too much, but the pain added another layer of stimulation that you couldn’t quite describe in any other word except incredible. 

Suguru sounds like a dying man as he plows into you, and you answer his pants and grunts with your own. “Seeing you like this makes me… oh, shit… it makes me feel so good, y/n. You’re such a beautiful woman… all tied up and...” He couldn’t finish his words as he moved inside of you, but you knew that this was exactly what turned him on: the fact that you were absolutely helpless without him made him feel invincible. The power dynamic is switched, and here you are, beholden to his every move. He wanted to be the one to give you pleasure, not anyone else; not even yourself. He held the cards in his hands, and he wouldn’t let anyone have them. 

So when you tumble over into your first orgasm of the night, you know he’s swelling up with pride as he continues ramming into your soaking wet cunt. “Cum for me…” he whispers as you moan around the bar in your mouth. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.” 

Afterwards, he unties your hands, rubbing feeling back into them before re-tying them together in front of you. Instead of looping the rope around your wrists until it runs out, he deftly ties the ends around the restraints on your legs, making your arms stretch out between your thighs. Your fingers are so close to your pussy that you can feel the heat coming from it, but when you try to touch your clit, you find that it’s nearly impossible to do so. 

“We’ve got about fifteen more minutes,” Suguru murmurs into your ear, kissing your temple. “Think you can hold on?” You nod eagerly, hoping he can give you at least two more orgasms in that time frame. “Wonderful,” he answers, and takes his position behind you again. Except this time, there are no fingers or his cock… His tongue soaks into your cunt with precision, both hands resting on your ass cheeks. 

At the unexpected feeling, your head shoots up, tugging on your restraints a little. But Suguru ignores the movement and continues his agonizing, languid procession up and down your pussy, circling around your clit and back. His appreciation for your taste is evident in the sounds he makes, the humming down below stimulating you further. 

“Mmmph!” You grunt in response to his teeth grazing your clit before his tongue soothes the dull ache, flicking the bud back and forth. Your fingers extend out painfully, trying to anchor on anything as Suguru tortures you. But you fall over into the nothingness again, eyes drifting to the back of your head as you tremble beneath him. 

Your orgasm hasn’t even fully ended when he re-enters you, beginning his strokes. A wet sensation runs down your ass and the pressure from a single finger on your asshole startles you, making you jerk again. “You can take it…” Suguru whispers, pressing his thumb into your asshole with slight difficulty. “There you go.” 

The combined pressure from his cock and the finger in your ass drives you wild. Nevermind the fact that you were tied up; this was an entirely different level of satisfaction: ecstasy. 

Tears slip from your eyes and your body begins to feel the ache of an overwhelming experience. Reality is no more. You are no more. The universe? It’s all composed of this. 

The gag is drenched with your saliva and Suguru tosses his head back, a pained inhale dragging into his throat. “Fuck, I’m so close…” You try to buck your hips or at least attempt to reach your clit one last time so you can cum with him and completely black out, and you’re almost unsuccessful until you feel his cock twitch fiercely in your pussy. And that’s when your soul is snatched out of your body. 

You’re deaf to the loudest groan you’ve ever made, blind to the sight of Suguru tilting back and pressing his eyes closed due to the force of his orgasm, and numb to the feeling of him shooting long streams of cum into your cunt. 

The blackout doesn’t last forever, but you wish it had. 

The timer beeps, ropes come undone, the gag comes off, and you’re covered in a thick blanket before Suguru presses an infinite number of kisses to your face and neck. You feel as if you’d smoked the best weed in the world, but you know the high only stems from the man who is holding you close and whispering tender words into your ear. Before you can close your eyes and shut out the world around you, a kiss is pressed to the inside of your right wrist, Suguru places your hand on his heart, and whispers, 

“Satoru better not be broke.”

[jacquesthepigeon]

Updated how I picture the kids as young adults

Marinette: Studied and obtained degrees in fashion design and engineering with a minor in business; did a cultural immersion program in China for a year. Lived in NYC for a few years before returning to Paris. Lives in Rolland’s house after he gets arrested for punching someone during a heated argument about bread; she is gradually renovating the house. Has become emotionally distant from some friends and family but still loves them and tries to be there for them however she can. Has a cat. Rides a motorcycle. Bullies other guardian students her age by being better than them. Mostly works freelance and commissions. Gave up her dreams of romance after an engagement fell through because of superhero/career stuff.

Adrien: Had a crisis straight out of school and went backpacking for a year and a half in China during which he grew a beard and was an overall mess. Moves back to France to enjoy the life of an unemployed student with savings from celebrity days. He switches majors every semester. He has been in 30+ clubs while trying to figure out what he’s passionate about. Has apologized for his past behavior with LB and takes being CN seriously now. Pretends to be on relatively good terms with his family to investigate their nefarious affairs. Overall a disaster but working on it.

Alya: Renowned superhero journalist. The Ladyblog has expanded into a small company of multiple journalists and photographers. Has drastically improved her reporting and is careful with sensitive information. Openly and comfortably a lesbian. Is technically roommates with Nino but practically lives in her office.

Nino: DJ and amature film maker. Has a podcast. Lives in a basement unit with multiple small dogs; it always floods when it rains. Travels often for gigs. Is in a poly relationship with another man and a woman. Is the only person that stays updated on what Adrien is studying at any given moment.

Kagami: Trying to find her way in the art world. Juggling her own ambitions and her relationship with her family. Sometimes assists Adrien in investigating their families’s sketchy business. Wants Marinette to stop riding that death trap. A lesbian.

Luka: An instrument maker. Makes more money from his side gig in a band than from his main job, depressingly enough. Desperately looking for a permanent studio after nearly losing a finger while working when the boat rocked one time.

Chloé: Uses her funds and connections to start a corporate superhero group, The Hive, with her as the leader obviously. Works to discredit LB and CN and have her company’s “heroes” be recognized as better. Still a prick.

Lila: Living it up like Anna Delvey. A supervillain. A menace.

[ixchel-sketch]

TITLE: Palehuiloca / Ayudar 

GENRE: Crime & Romance

FANDOM: Mayans M.C.

SHIP(S): Coco & Original Female Character 

STATUS: Complete

LENGTH: 5,291 words

Set while Coco is still a prospect. One of his first orders is to help newly full patched members Angel and Gilly locate a corrupt drug dealer at a local music festival. He never expected to meet Maya.

It was early in the evening when the headlights of bikes cut through the light of the setting sun and three members of the local motorcycle club were waved into the festival without so much as a second glance from security. All manner of people were attending, most of them on their way towards inebriation in some form of another. Johnny “Coco” Cruz looked around at the various stages set up in the large canyon, the sounds of whatever concert was currently playing blasted through the state park. Competing for the attention of the crowds of people weaving their way from one set to another. A couple that looked to be barely out of their teens stumbled by and nearly bumped into Coco had he not been hyper focused on his surroundings.

“Jesus, would you look at this place.” Angel’s dark eyes followed after them, noting the way the couple wove and leaned on each other in support. To the average attendee they seemed to be in the depths of young love, laughing and showering displays of affection no matter how inappropriate. To anyone with experience it was obvious they were high off their asses.

“That’s why we’re here isn’t it? Marcus said that we needed to smoke out some dealer. “ Gilberto “Gilly” Lopez adjusted the thick leather vest that all three of them wore, squinting out at the crowd in observation.

“For selling on Mayan terf?”

Coco finally came back to the conversation, a little bit confused on why they would be put on something that seemed to have nothing to do with the club. As a prospect, there weren't many orders that he was in a position to question. It helped that he and Angel had roomed together right before he'd patched in. He trusted him, which was something he hadn't experienced much before.

"There's been an uptick in overdoses. Someones cutting their shit and it makes the M.C. look bad. Since most assume that's where it's coming from." Now it made sense. It would definitely hurt their business and possibly gain unwanted attention from authorities if the main take away from the music festival was the amount of narcan used.

But how the hell were they supposed to find that needle in this shitshow of a haystack? The longer they stood idly by the entrance the worse that he began to feel about this whole thing. There were only three of them there and too many unknowns. They had no idea how serious this guy was or if they had their own crew. Paranoia leeched some of the stoic strength that usually radiated from Coco. No, crowded and booming festivals were definitely not his thing.

"We should split up," Coco scowled at Gilly's suggestion but all of them nodded in agreement nonetheless. "Cover more ground that way. Look for anyone buying or dealing. "

Maya had been attending music festivals since before she knew how to talk. She’d grown up dressed in tie dye onesies and been lulled to sleep by the sound of amature drum circles. It was a lifestyle that she knew like the back of her hand and the road between each destination felt just as much home as the stops between. All she really needed in order to be happy was the RV that she’d inherited from her father and enough gas and savings to keep making her art in comfort. Not many people seemed to understand her need for near constant travel and freedom, much less stick around.

Today had been different though. Slow, and while the general guests were perfectly content with the food vendors and alcohol sales, not too many had stopped through her booth and made actual purchases. Only in the last hour had there been a wave of people walking around and buying different trinkets and goods that she’d made. The increase in sales usually took up all of her attention. Mental energy split between being conversational and likeable as a vendor and keeping an eye out to make sure no one lifted anything. She supposed that was another reason for not wanting to be tied down --- maintaining a fake sociable mask for longer than a couple hours at a time was down right exhausting. With a heavy sigh Maya got up from her chair and stretched as tall as she could. It wasn’t very tall.

Finally she noticed a man standing with his back to the corner of her booth and steeled herself to once again paste on a fake smile. It wasn’t unusual for a potential customer to spend time just staring at a piece… but with a hint of concern she realized that wasn’t what he was doing. Dark eyes were focused intensely out at the crowd and she tried not to flinch when that gaze was turned on her. “Hey, can I help you?”

“What? No, I’m uh- good thanks.” He didn’t look good, warm brown skin having taken on a slightly pallid complexion. The man looked spooked, bordering on shaken and even though she knew better than to reach out something on Maya’s face must have given away her confusion and he rushed to explain. “It was just really loud, I couldn’t even hear myself think.”

“ You want some water?” Before he could answer the brunette was ducking behind a table to grab a metal thermos that was still chilly from her ice run earlier. He accepted it and she couldn’t bring herself to look away from the way his adam apple moved when he took a drink or the stray bead of water that escaped the corner of Coco’s lips. Maya licked her own subtly and subconsciously before adding, “Yeah, festivals can be a lot. I lucked out this year and my booth got placed opposite of the concert field. Shitty for sales though.”

When he handed her back the thermos her fingers brushed against his, releasing butterflies in her stomach and Maya tried her best to brush it off. Coco seemed to finally notice the different posters and jewelry that decorated the tables and his eyebrows rose, fingers ghosting over the designs pressed into leather bracelets. “All this stuff is yours? You made it?”

She nods, a natural grin spreading across full lips. There were few things that she carried a fair amount of pride about, her art being one of them. “Claro que si, Well, except for the bones, those I get from hunters and collectors. Same for the crystals.”

His hand fell away and Coco nodded. Something about the way that he was looking at the merch had Maya relaxing a bit, casting a glance back towards where people were clearing the man made path that separated the music from the vendors to herd themselves into a new performance. There probably wouldn't be anyone else wandering through her booth for a few hours at least.

“ It’s really tight, the detail in the designs is crazy.”

“Thank you. My name’s Maya.” She expected the blink of confusion that followed.

“Sorry, what?”

“Just call me Maya.” Another nod and from the way that Coco’s shoulders sag just a bit she can tell he’s starting to relax too. Whether it's because of the compliment that he’d given her work or just a sudden craving for more substantial human interaction, Maya made up her mind and opened the canopy flap that led to where her RV was parked behind the booth. “I was planning on taking a little break -- para fumar. You wanna join me?”

Finally a genuine smile touches the other’s eyes as Coco replies “I’m always good for a smoke.”

She led Coco back to the small table pulled under the awning and sat down in a rusted lawn chair, motioning for him to do the same. It creaked under his weight and she couldn’t help but offer a slightly embarrassed smile while retrieving the glass jar from a leather satMaya hanging over her shoulder. The inside of the glass was so coated in crystals and weed dust that it was hard to make out the details of the small buds jostled within. “So is this your first festival in awhile?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Probably my first.”

“No shit?” Maya passed Coco the ornately blown glass piece she’d been gifted some time back. It was surprising to find how easy conversation was to have with him as the two began to talk about their interests. Music was the easiest shared denominator, with Maya’s tastes being basically anything that isn’t outright offensive or problematic. But slowly the two started to talk about more personal stuff as well. They came from vastly different backgrounds but somehow nothing seemed to get lost in translation, the time passed faster than either had realized and before she knew it the light was just starting to fade from the sky. Their shadows stretching out in the grass before them and tinting the campsite in a pretty orange.

“So you like to go it alone?” The conversation had circled back to her and Maya rolled her shoulders in a relaxed shrug.

“I’m still only twenty fuckin’ three. And I’m picky as hell, hanging around musicians all the time you know. I’m not just some fuckin’ groupie.”

Coco held up his hands and hissed as if he’d touched something hot, “I got you, my bad.”

She deflated and ran a hand through messy dark waves. As much as she loved the freedom, sometimes loneliness did creep into her life and forced Maya to examine what she really wanted… but she wouldn’t know how to settle down even if she tried. “No it’s on me. My shit. Sorry, dude.”

He nodded, accepting the apology for her snappy response before his cell phone went off and drew Coco’s attention away from the company. With a sinking feeling he realized he’d missed out on the reason they were originally there. All he could do was hope that Angel or Gilly had found something to take back to El Padrino. “Yeah? I’ll be there.”

Maya waited a moment before speaking up, unable to hide the curiosity in her voice. “Those the guys you’re here with? Tus hermanos?”

Coco stood up and fixed the lawn chair, which had sagged so that the seat of it was brushing the ground. She moved to follow him and he offered her a hand to help Maya to her feet. They stood close for a moment while she regained her balance, so close she could smell him and it caused the hair to rise on the back of her neck and heat to coil in her stomach. Shit. Taking a step back, she brushed off her clothes and tried to meet his eyes when Coco replied; “Yeah , sort of. Better than any family I was born with. Even all that shit they say about brothers in arms in the military ain’t nothin like what the M.C. is.”

Dark brows furrowed and Maya pieced together what he meant, not having much experience with bikers outside of slightly unpleasant gas station exchanges. “So you’re here with guys who are also in your...motorcycle club?”

That seemed to make Coco laugh and shake his head while grabbing a cigarette from the box in his vest pocket. Before he could fumble around for his lighter she managed to fish hers out of her pocket, holding it out to him. “Yeah,” He took a drag and made sure to blow it away from where she stood. “We’re actually here trying to pick up. I don’t know if you use anything harder..”

A deep frown creased her face and she gave Coco a subtle once over, as though potentially seeing him in a different light. “Oh...No I uhm, I don’t. That shit’s gotten kind of dangerous.”

He looks equally relieved and she can’t help but be a bit confused. “Good, I mean, I don’t neither. Not like that.”

Coco’s done his share of hard partying and drugs, been addicted and managed to come to terms with his limits. Something in the way that he holds himself lets Maya know that she can believe him, that he’s not just back peddling in order to save face. She nods and goes to untie the opening of her booth to let people know she’s once again open for business --- and to allow Coco to exit into the main crowd.

“Because I’ve seen some people be taken off the grounds for OD’s...it’s depressing shit.” Mostly it was just people who attended but every once and awhile a musician or vendor would end up getting an ambulance called. It was always sad, especially if it was someone that she’d see at a few different venues and become somewhat friendly with.

“See that’s why we’re trying to find the guy selling this shit... stop it from getting into the community.”

Her expression changed to one of surprise before a full bottom lip slipped between her teeth in mild indecision. She was sick of seeing people taken advantage of in her community, at least Coco’s gang was doing something about it. “...I could help, maybe? Talk to the other vendors and see if they’ve seen anything. Are you guys camping out or are you coming back tomorrow?”

She hoped that they were, handing Coco one of the cards that she kept on display so that he might be able to get in contact with her again. Dark eyes tracked the motion of him slipping it into his pocket, her own hands fumbling awkwardly. Coco’s phone buzzed again and she could tell from his reaction it was probably his guys asking where he was.

“We’ll be back. I’ll hit you up.”

He returned to where their bikes were being looked after with a much lighter heart, both from the conversation and finding a potential lead. Gilly was tempted to stay a bit longer and as much as Coco wanted to agree it was obvious to both him and Angel that had much more to do with the actual festival than the club’s interests. Angel was disappointed in the lack of concrete evidence and it showed in his scowl and furrowed brow.

“Damn man. Everyone’s high but it just seems like a bunch of fuckin hippies.” He grumbled, looking either Coco or Gilly in the hopes that they found something of more use.

“I saw someone get carried out but it could have been heat stroke. No one else around.”

Angel turned to Coco, “ What about you? Any luck?”

In no rush to admit that he’d wasted most of his time blowing off their orders to talk to some chick, he kept his answer clipped. “Yeah...maybe.”

The internal conflict caused him to stiffen when Angel’s hand landed on his shoulder in camaraderie. But the other Mayan only seemed encouraged by Coco’s admission, wrinkling his nose before stepping back to mount his ride. “Shit, you smell like skunk.”

The night went by uneventfully despite Maya’s best attempts to find any of her connections that might have an idea what was going on or who was dealing. None of her artisan contacts had any interest in exploring those kinds of narcotics and had a similar reaction to the one that she had earlier. Only after explaining why she was looking for the illicit substance did their judgement lessen. Eventually, after making sure to put the word out that she was interested in trying something different (as a ruse to lure out the dealer) Maya was forced to give up and go to sleep with the hopes that the next day would bring better luck.

And whether it was her own self manifestation or the will of the gods, after spending most of the next day with her attention split between selling her goods and looking out for any nefarious activity her first lead appeared. Half way through the day someone was taken from the medic tent looking half dead but no one seemed to know much about it. Coco messaged her, checking in to see if she had found anything. All of the texts were very...Friendly. They joked back and forth just as much as talking (if not more) than about what was happening at the festival. By the time she did hear back from one of her contacts -- a time and place to meet the person who was selling smack, Maya was too excited about having a legitimate reason to see Coco again than to think through all of the potential consequences of going to the meet.

With her booth closed up and cellphone slipped into the back of her pocket, Maya headed to the spot in the back of the general campsite. It wasn’t too far from her where she was vending but definitely far enough from the security spots and exits to be inconspicuous. The man waiting for her was tall and spindly, the dark cliche hoodie he wore nearly hung off of him with how loose it was. His greeting smile felt lewd, red rimmed eyes focusing on the naked skin of her legs for far longer than she was comfortable with. A sinking feeling started to build in her gut but Maya decided to ignore it.

“So I heard you were looking to pick up ?”

She froze, a small frown working its way onto her face. Even when she wanted so hard to play it cool.“Well, not me, my friend was interested…”

“And where’s your friend?”

The tone of his voice made the hair rise on the back of her neck and Maya looked around to see if there was anyone else nearby. The sound of music playing could be heard even from the distance of the campground and she knew better than to hope there would be anyone loitering there instead of watching a band. “He’s meeting up with me later.”

“Your boyfriend?” The man took a step forward, reaching out to pick up a strand of her long dark hair. At this distance she could make out the details of his pockmarked cheeks and nearly gasped at the memory of his face disappearing into the crowd after the EMT’s had taken away the person hours earlier. Maya’s heart started to race and muscles froze into place with the rise of panic. It was a challenge to take the answering step back, only to find that there was a tent flush behind her back.

“No, just a friend. So can I uhm, can I get the stuff?” Her anxiety to leave was building but Maya didn’t want to take off without at least getting some proof to show Coco that she had found the guy.

“Of course baby, why? You in a hurry?” She watched as his hand made contact with her arm, the other one going to grab her hip almost forcefully to try and drag Maya closer. The grip should have been strong enough to bruise but she couldn’t feel anything beyond the shock. Her dark eyes go wide and it takes a few quick breaths to work past the fear.

“Yeah actually I just need to… can you-- Hey!”

The sun had already set by the time that the Mayans rolled back up to the festival. Coco once again had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach though this time it was for a different reason than being triggered by the crowd. He’d been texting Maya most of the day but in the last hour she had stopped without warning. And when they got to her booth it was closed up and deserted, most of the vendors having shut down by then. Gilly gave a look around before sending Coco a sympathetic shrug. “You sure she was supposed to meet you here bro?”

“It looks pretty empty.” Angel agreed.

“Yeah man this is her spot.” He didn’t like this feeling at all. Like a coil of stress winding tighter and tighter at his core, a rubber band stretched to the breaking point. What he wouldn’t give for it to just be his fucked up mind playing tricks on him again. Just when he was about to finally dismiss it a feminine shout echoed through the space. “ Shit!”

Maya had her eyes pressed tightly closed as the heat of the stranger pressed against her caused sickening chills. Her heart raced so loud that anything that was coming out of his mouth was lost to the rushing noise in her ears. A spell or curse that was caused by paralyzing panic and only when his hand moved from her back to ghost over the curve of Maya’s ass did it break enough for her to scream.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, ASSHOLE!” Her arms came up to push him away, gasping in surprise when at the same time someone grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him back. The motion was too quick, but the line of Coco’s back could be seen as he pinned the dealer to the ground and laid blow after blow to the man’s face. After a few minutes Angel pulled him off, pushing Coco away so that he could catch his breath and pull himself together after unleashing all that rage.

Maya jumped when she realized there was someone standing behind her with their hand on her shoulder, large dark eyes looking up at Gilly and he released her and took a step back to give the shaken woman some space. “You good? “

Her answering nod was a little too quick to be believable but no one called her out on it. “ Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

“Is this the guy?” Angel nodded towards the bloody heap on man on the ground, still standing between him and Coco though Gilly moved closer to help lift the suspect.

“I don’t know, I know he sells. And he was hanging around someone who OD’d earlier.”

Their expressions went tight and she received a nod, Coco finally walking back over to them and muttering something in Angel’s direction. “ We’ll talk to him.”

While Angel and Gilly dragged the unconscious man back towards their bikes, Maya turned her attention back to Coco, finally noting the way his lips had pulled down into a sour scowl. She had a feeling that a large part of it had to do with her and a knot of guilt formed in her stomach. He started to turn back towards the exit of the festival, about to leave without saying a word and before she realized it Maya was reaching out to gently wrap her hand around his bicep. “ Do you wanna come back to my RV? Get a drink?”

He looked at her hand for a long minute, still not able to meet her eyes even after she let go. “...Okay, sure.”

Neither of them spoke on the way back to where her RV was parked. The tension was nearly palpable and she pulled out a beer from the cooler typically reserved for guests and passed it to Coco. Her eyes lingered on how his fingers were wrapped around the neck of the bottle, knuckles red and bruised from impact. While he opened it she went about unlocking the 1990 Winnebago so that they might be able to talk with some semblance of privacy. The comfort of her mobile home was a soothing balm against all of the excitement and chaos she’d been involved in. Maya deftly opened some cabinets and removed a half finished bottle of tequila and dusty shot glass.

“You know what you did earlier? Was pretty stupid.”

When she looks up from preparing her drink Coco is staring at her intently. “...Excuse me?”

The incredulity in her voice sets him off and Coco pushes away from where he’d been leaning against the narrow counter to loom over her. Now she can tell that she’d seriously misunderstood something earlier as he looks...actually angry. The bottle is forgotten behind him and his chin raises, a defensive posture if she’d ever seen one. “That guy could have pulled a knife, or a gun. Then what?”

She hadn’t thought about if that had happened, but she had a feeling saying that out loud wouldn’t help her case. In an attempt at levity, Maya forced a smirk and tilted her head in faux innocence. “Get shot, I guess?”

It doesn’t help. His brows draw together and his tone raises which causes her to reel back. It only now occurs to her that she doesn’t actually know him that well or what he’s capable of in anger. “What the fuck kind of thinking is that? Eres una pinche idiota?”

Maya’s gaze drops to the floor and her shoulders sag in defeat. She can tell that the reaction is one out of concern for her wellbeing but she doesn’t have a clue on how to fix things. With a heavy sigh she rubs a hand across her face. “I just wanted to help,” Coco continues to look at her, and his expression softens just a bit in acceptance. “ ...You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”

Coco is still standing close enough that if she were to lean forward it wouldn’t take much effort at all to place a kiss on his chin. The thought taunting her almost as much as the way that his voice dips an octave and ridiculously long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. “ Next time just call me, yeah?”

A hopeful smile pulls at full lips and she rocks forward on her heels so that their chests are nearly touching. “Next time?”

“That’s not what I ...shit, I just mean,” His eyes are locked on her lips and the atmosphere of the confined space in the RV has changed with their mood. The air is heavy and she closes the distance between them in an obvious invitation, one of her hands splaying flat on his chest where the patch meets the leather of his vest. Coco’s eyes grow even darker if possible.

“It’s cool. I got you.” There are no expectations as he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls Maya into a hungry kiss. It’s not soft or gentle and she matches his pace eagerly. The hand on his chest snakes around to stroke over the hair at the base of his neck and one of his rakes up the tank top she’s wearing in order to cup her breast. His other arm is pulling her closer still, passion completely unleashed and Maya is forced to break away in a gasp of pleasure when Coco’s leg parted hers and pressed the lines of their bodies against one another until she could feel the tent forming against her hip.

In an act of rare dexterity she managed to turn them so that her back is facing the hallway. It’s far too great a sacrifice to pull away from him or the way that Coco is running his hands along her body. He follows her until the back of her knees press against the mattress and helps to lower her down, wet kisses trailing from her mouth to the column of her throat.

His touch lights her nerves on fire and Maya sighs into the kiss, opening her mouth so that he can take advantage and wind his tongue against hers. Once the heavy leather vest is dropped on the corner of the bed she removes her shirt and pulls Coco back down on top of her. His hands roam and grope her torso while the warm weight of his hips pin her down and roll against her. “Que quieres?”

“Don’t st…keep going.” It’s all the encouragement that he seems to need before Coco is slipping her jean shorts and underwear off her legs and placing nips and kisses along Maya’s hips. It’s a quick tease before her returns to place a kiss on her swollen lips. The fabric of his button up shirt rubs against her chest and she manages to slide her hands beneath it and the thin wife beater under that. They're both in too much of a hurry to really focus on removing each other’s clothes entirely. It’s a \victory just to be able to get a few of the small buttons undone as Coco unfastens his belt to slide his pants down his hips.

“Oh...fuck.” The unbidden whine slips from Maya when he presses two fingers inside of her, whispering a compliment into her ear before replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. It’s been awhile since she’s been with another person, and when he thrusts his entire length in with one quick motion she can’t help but lock her legs around his waist to hold him in place. Coco senses her tense and takes a couple of deep breaths, panting against her shoulder before placing kisses on her chest.

“Relax, mi cariña.” Coco groaned, gripping her ass and pressing Maya closer. He waited until she moaned and rolled her hips against his before picking up the pace of his movements. Once they find a rhythm it doesn’t take long before Maya is coming undone. She cries out in pleasure and tenses around Coco, arms tightly wound around his neck and face pressed against his shoulder. Just a couple of uneven thrusts later and he’s following close behind, groaning and rolling off of Maya so that he’s facing her on the mattress. They both have to catch their breath and she savors the look of pure relaxation on Coco’s face. The lines of stress fall away and he looks years younger.

Maya wants nothing more than to reach out and brush some of the dark hair off of his forehead, but when she does she’s pinned with that same intense stare from earlier as he flinched away from her hand. The connection that was there between them suddenly feels dulled. Coco rolled onto his back, staring up silently at the roof of the RV.

“So… you said something about next time.” She had a sudden sinking feeling in her gut and joined in the direction of his gaze. It was dark out now and the small amount of daylight had charged the old glow in the dark star stickers so that they set off a subtle glow. The longer she looked, the easier it was to pick them out against the faded roof material and ignore the embarrassed burning of her cheeks.

Coco sat up and fixed himself into his pants. From the angle she was at it was nearly impossible to tell exactly what his expression was. “...Yeah. I’ll give you a call.”

That certainly didn’t sound reassuring.

“Right.” Maya’s tone turned flat and cold, earning a glance from the other before she followed suit and sat up to pull her discarded tank top back over her head. Her shorts had been shoved off of the bed in their earlier activities however her underwear lay crumpled near by and she slipped them on to put off meeting his eyes. “Well, I’m only going to be in the area for another couple of days then I do a show up north. If I hear from you it’s cool but if not...it is what it is.”

The warmth of his palm spreads over her cheek and Coco pulls her up so that he can place a gentle kiss on her lips, far softer than she ever would have expected. “ Hey, querida… I’ll call. I got you.”

A soft smile spreads across her face as he slings his kutte over one arm and she pulls him back for one final kiss, happy to get to know him and already excited for the next time they would see each other.

“Ride safe.”

[girlintheorangecoat-blog]

Best Books I’ve red in 2019 so far

[in my opinion]

- Red, White & Royal Blue

This book is about the prince of england (Harry) and the first son of the US (Alex) build a love/hate relationship. Will they fall in love? Can love save the world? You shall find out lol. Also mad props to Casey McQuiston such a good book!

- Simon Vs The Homosapiens Agenda

If you havent heard of Love, Simon you’re probably Patrick-Star’s room mate! Such a beautiful story can’t decide which is better the book or the movie. If you are Patricks roomate let me fill you in on this peace of art. A boy named Simon concours the hell of being a closeted gay guy in an American public school. Through a mysterious tumblr post (justl like this one) he meets blue the love of his life so he thinks. Becky Albertalli by far the best author out there. Where’s my Blue at?

- The Paper & Hearts Society

Tabby moves into a new country no friends, fresh start. Through a mysterious flyer she found in a copy of her favorite book at the library she joins a book club with Olivia, Henry, Ed and Cassie. Thai book made me want to have my own book club. If you live in Basel Switzerland HMU!

- What If It’s Us

Arthur New York amature ends up bumping into long time new yorcker, Ben at the post office. One sight was enough for Arthur to fall head over heels in love with Ben. Ben however just leaves the post office without giving Arthur his number or anything else. New York is huge how will Arthur ever find Ben? This book made me cry and laugh at the same time, tears of joy ofc. Becky Albertalli again yes she is amazing bye.

- Proud

Are you gay, alone and bad at maths like me :)) well this book is about adults sharing they’re coming out story, how they met they’re true love and the complications of being closeted (like me :)) this book made me feel way less alone and it made me feel like i was actually understood really beautiful i must say!

- City Of Bones

Last but not least this grate book i started reading after watching all 4 seasons of Shadowhunters which also is a grate Netflix series to watch. Can’t really decide if the book or the show is more worth the time but I don’t regret doing both. I’m not usually into fantasy but this was really catchy so have fun! :)

Well let me know if you read any of these so we can fangirl/fanboy/fan-don’t want to mess up your pronoun. If you haven’t i absolutely recommend doing so!!

Kk bye

- rêveuse

[pocheonhq]

POCHEON UNIVERSITY PRIDE CLUB PRESENTS ! THE FANTASY KIKI

we’re here, we’re queer, and it’s the best time of year ! complete with rainbow decor, cocktails, and food, we won’t stop there. there’s much more in store and you’re cordially invited to show your pride and your support to our lgbtq+ family here at pocheon university ! click below to check out the festivities .

WELCOME TO THE FANTASY KIKI ! we, the pocheon pride club, have assembled this night to celebrate the community this pride month and on june 8th starting at 4pm, it’s all coming to the pocheon courtyard ! goms, yuhwas, and sansins… all are welcome !

ATTIRE: dull colors are NOT welcome ! come decked out in anything you want but THE THEME IS RAVE so neons and bright colors will be encouraged as well as bright, outlandish make up and hair. live your fantasy.

THE 1ST ANNUAL CRYSTAL BALL DRAG SHOW: that’s right ! calling all queens, kings and inbetweens ! this is your chance no matter how professional or amature, slap on your fiercest mug and get ready to werk the runway in your campiest looks. we’ll be crowning a royal court at the end of the night. if you wish to participate, please dm the ttorai account for more information !

COMNG OUT: a free-standing rainbow door will be set up so that participants may step through and “come out of the closet” to the supportive cheers of onlookers. 

FOOD & DRINK: for a visual, click here for table decor, here and here for an idea of the self-refilling snack table, here and here for the cocktails that will be served, here for the cake. all food is self refilling and 3 bars will be set up with bartenders for alcoholics drinks for those age 19+. alcoholic drinks will be available after 8pm.

BOUNCY CASTLES & INFLATABLE OBSTACLE COURSE: click here and here.

QUEER ART AUCTION: we support our queer community and therefor we will have are from various artistic students online for sale. all of the money will go to the artist who created it for them to use as they wish. if you wish to submit art for the silent auction, please dm ttorai !

TESTING: while we revel in the joy and celebrate our queerness and pride, our darling nurses from our very own infirmary will have a booth set up for free hiv and aids testing, as well as other stis. the process will be private and the results will only be known to you. we wish for you to have fun in your years here at pocheon univeristy but to also be smart and stay woke.

please have fun and feel free to post photos using the hashtag, #PocheonPRIDE when posting your looks/clothes and other things from the evening !

[pillekalle]

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[ervingt7ilbv9-blog]

Mia Malkova Strips At Work For Masturbation Break https://sexypin.us/d5e Mia Malkova Strips At Work For Masturbation Break #pussy #thin #skinnny #cute Kylie Rey Fifty women riding cock Free hairy pussy flv videos, female bisexual art gallery. Amature college lesbian shower, free pics chubby girls see through. MGB LE The MG Owners Club, awesome Gay hd twink

[harroldm4lhs-blog]

Mia Malkova Strips At Work For Masturbation Break https://sexypin.us/d5e Mia Malkova Strips At Work For Masturbation Break #pussy #thin #skinnny #cute Kylie Rey Fifty women riding cock Free hairy pussy flv videos, female bisexual art gallery. Amature college lesbian shower, free pics chubby girls see through. MGB LE The MG Owners Club, awesome Gay hd twink

[samanthasroberts]

The Blissful Highs And Sh*tty Lows Of Dating Someone Older

I’m 29 years old, and I’ve dated all across the age spectrum in my decade-and-a-half-long bout in the dating world. I’ve dated younger men, younger women, older men and older women.

By the time I reached my early 20s, I kicked the boys to the curb (no disrespect gents, but I’m just a big ol’ lezzie creature). But let me tell you, sweet kittens: Gender aside, I’ve found in my vast searches that I much prefer to date up. And I’m not talking about “up” on the societal food chain. I’m not talking about “up” as in “social status” (F*CK social status). I’m talking about up as in grand ol’ AGE.

Basically, if you aren’t currently collecting social security checks, I’m not interested.

JUST KIDDING. I’m most definitely NOT into dating the super old. I’m just interested in (and currently am dating) someone notably older than little 29-year-old me. Seven to 10 years is ideal.

I’m a Millennial who doesn’t really enjoy doing Millennial things. In fact, I’m sort of like an old Upper East Side lady trapped in the body of a downtown Millennial.

I would rather sip cold white wine at a posh hotel bar with a stunning view of the city than take drugs and feverishly dance at the club. I’m allergic to public transportation. I abhor the taste of beer. I don’t like house parties in sh*t apartments that smell like a sea of dead rats are festering in the fridge.

My nightmare scenario is smoking cigarettes outside of a dingy bar on the Lower East Side (or, worse, Bushwick) with self-important 23-year-old hipsters, freezing my ass off listening to them talk bullsh*t.

No. I would rather hang out in cigar bars with a salt and pepper crowd whilst drinking dry gin and engaging in heated debates about the Israel/Palestine conflict.

I like to wear pretty dresses without being gawked at by 20-somethings in ripped denim who smugly ask me “Why are you so dressed up?” (Because I’m f*cking fabulous, you hipster douchebag). I like to go out to dinner for Christs sake.

So yes, there are a lot of kickass aspects to dating someone older than you: maturity. Civilized behavior. Mentoring. A sense of being “taken care of” (bully me as you will, I like to be “princessed” from time to time, and I don’t give a f*ck if you think that’s lame. My girlfriend doesn’t have any complaints).

That’s not to say there aren’t some, er, “challenging” aspects to amature relationship, like having to go home at midnight when you’re still ready to go wild. Or feeling acutely insecure about the lack of money in your bank account or being deemed nothing more than “arm candy” by their friends.

Dating someone older than you is a fierce, frustrating yet wonderfully eye-opening learning experience with a plethora of highs and lows.

Highs and lows: dating

High: They know how to take you on a “proper” date.

Most Millennials idea of a proper date is the good ol’ Netflix and Chill, which basically means you get all pretty and dressed up only to find yourself at some dude’s sh*tty apartment, scrolling through Netflix for 25 minutes before you have disappointing sex.

Not on my clock, kittens.

There is still romance left in this cruel, cold world. And based on my personal experience, you’ve got a better stab at finding it when you date a real adult.

To adults,a date is a proper dinner. With wine. With reservations. So when you get all lovely and douse yourself with a stealth splash of your very expensive limited editionChanel No.5 fragrance, it’s not being wasted sitting on a crummy couch somewhere deep in Brooklyn.

Low: You feel generally poor most of the time.

I don’t know about you, but I’m broke as a joke. I live in Manhattan. I pay an arm and a leg to live in a six-story walkup and literally live paycheck to paycheck.

Every time I swipe my credit card at Walgreens, I hold my breath, gaze up into the bleak fluorescent drug store lights and say a little prayer, Please go through. Please go through. Please go through.

Normally, I really don’t give a flying f*ck at the pathetic number in my bank account. If I can just keep my account out of the red, I’m pretty proud of myself. I’m young, I live in New York City, I survive, and I love my life. So who cares about money? Not me.

Well, until I start dating someone older.

All of a sudden, you accidentally peak into the number in their bank account when they’re checking their balance in the back of a Taxi, and you see double digits. In both savings and checking.

You suddenly realize they have 401Ks. They own things, like cars. They have multiple credits cards for which they’ve been approved.

And all I have is $250 in my checking account, and the only card I have is a Sephora beauty insider card.

Highs and lows: friends

High: They have interesting friends.

One of my favorite parts of dating up is the interesting, dynamic group of friends they’ve garnered in their years. They’re fascinating, chic, sophisticated creatures who prefer to ruminate over a nice glass of Vino rather than toss back tequila shots all night long.

And you can actually have intellectual conversations about life, love and art!

Low: Sometimes those friends can be condescending as F*CK.

Oh, the looks you get from jealous, bitchy eyes when you’re the youngest girl in the room. Ignorant entities cut you with their glances, squeeze one another’s arms and nod to each other knowingly: “Oh it’s clear why theyre together.”

As if you’re some sort of uncultured bimbo. As if you’re merely arm candy. As if you’re the pretty little decoration to the person you’re dating.

Nothing fills me more with rage! I’m far too opinionated to be anyone’s puppy.

However, I do quite enjoy the look on an old girl’s face when I’m able to quickly outsmart her, outwit her and out-sophisticate her within minutes of her bestowing a condescending comment upon me.

Highs and lows: sex

High: The sex is better.

It takes time to get comfortable in your body. It takes time to learn what the hell you’re doing in between the sheets. It takes heaps of trial and error to get really, really, really, really good at sex.

Which means dating someone older than you also means dating someone more sexually experienced than you.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not interested in being anyone’s “teacher” in sex. I want someone who can surprise me with her intense sexual prowess. Show me something I don’t know. Make me come like I never came before.

Low: They suck at sexting.

From my experience, sexting is most definitely a Millennial phenomenon. The generation before me can crush it with phone sex, but they’re at aloss when it comes tothe fine ART OF THE SEXT.

But it’s okay. The great thing about dating people who areolder is they don’t have massive egos that get in the way of them listening to you. Age has made them wise. They’re inherently faster learners than us youngins.

It’s also nice to teach your older lover a thing a two, you know?

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/20/the-blissful-highs-and-shtty-lows-of-dating-someone-older/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/12/20/the-blissful-highs-and-shtty-lows-of-dating-someone-older/

[jimdsmith34]

The Blissful Highs And Sh*tty Lows Of Dating Someone Older

I’m 29 years old, and I’ve dated all across the age spectrum in my decade-and-a-half-long bout in the dating world. I’ve dated younger men, younger women, older men and older women.

By the time I reached my early 20s, I kicked the boys to the curb (no disrespect gents, but I’m just a big ol’ lezzie creature). But let me tell you, sweet kittens: Gender aside, I’ve found in my vast searches that I much prefer to date up. And I’m not talking about “up” on the societal food chain. I’m not talking about “up” as in “social status” (F*CK social status). I’m talking about up as in grand ol’ AGE.

Basically, if you aren’t currently collecting social security checks, I’m not interested.

JUST KIDDING. I’m most definitely NOT into dating the super old. I’m just interested in (and currently am dating) someone notably older than little 29-year-old me. Seven to 10 years is ideal.

I’m a Millennial who doesn’t really enjoy doing Millennial things. In fact, I’m sort of like an old Upper East Side lady trapped in the body of a downtown Millennial.

I would rather sip cold white wine at a posh hotel bar with a stunning view of the city than take drugs and feverishly dance at the club. I’m allergic to public transportation. I abhor the taste of beer. I don’t like house parties in sh*t apartments that smell like a sea of dead rats are festering in the fridge.

My nightmare scenario is smoking cigarettes outside of a dingy bar on the Lower East Side (or, worse, Bushwick) with self-important 23-year-old hipsters, freezing my ass off listening to them talk bullsh*t.

No. I would rather hang out in cigar bars with a salt and pepper crowd whilst drinking dry gin and engaging in heated debates about the Israel/Palestine conflict.

I like to wear pretty dresses without being gawked at by 20-somethings in ripped denim who smugly ask me “Why are you so dressed up?” (Because I’m f*cking fabulous, you hipster douchebag). I like to go out to dinner for Christs sake.

So yes, there are a lot of kickass aspects to dating someone older than you: maturity. Civilized behavior. Mentoring. A sense of being “taken care of” (bully me as you will, I like to be “princessed” from time to time, and I don’t give a f*ck if you think that’s lame. My girlfriend doesn’t have any complaints).

That’s not to say there aren’t some, er, “challenging” aspects to amature relationship, like having to go home at midnight when you’re still ready to go wild. Or feeling acutely insecure about the lack of money in your bank account or being deemed nothing more than “arm candy” by their friends.

Dating someone older than you is a fierce, frustrating yet wonderfully eye-opening learning experience with a plethora of highs and lows.

Highs and lows: dating

High: They know how to take you on a “proper” date.

Most Millennials idea of a proper date is the good ol’ Netflix and Chill, which basically means you get all pretty and dressed up only to find yourself at some dude’s sh*tty apartment, scrolling through Netflix for 25 minutes before you have disappointing sex.

Not on my clock, kittens.

There is still romance left in this cruel, cold world. And based on my personal experience, you’ve got a better stab at finding it when you date a real adult.

To adults,a date is a proper dinner. With wine. With reservations. So when you get all lovely and douse yourself with a stealth splash of your very expensive limited editionChanel No.5 fragrance, it’s not being wasted sitting on a crummy couch somewhere deep in Brooklyn.

Low: You feel generally poor most of the time.

I don’t know about you, but I’m broke as a joke. I live in Manhattan. I pay an arm and a leg to live in a six-story walkup and literally live paycheck to paycheck.

Every time I swipe my credit card at Walgreens, I hold my breath, gaze up into the bleak fluorescent drug store lights and say a little prayer, Please go through. Please go through. Please go through.

Normally, I really don’t give a flying f*ck at the pathetic number in my bank account. If I can just keep my account out of the red, I’m pretty proud of myself. I’m young, I live in New York City, I survive, and I love my life. So who cares about money? Not me.

Well, until I start dating someone older.

All of a sudden, you accidentally peak into the number in their bank account when they’re checking their balance in the back of a Taxi, and you see double digits. In both savings and checking.

You suddenly realize they have 401Ks. They own things, like cars. They have multiple credits cards for which they’ve been approved.

And all I have is $250 in my checking account, and the only card I have is a Sephora beauty insider card.

Highs and lows: friends

High: They have interesting friends.

One of my favorite parts of dating up is the interesting, dynamic group of friends they’ve garnered in their years. They’re fascinating, chic, sophisticated creatures who prefer to ruminate over a nice glass of Vino rather than toss back tequila shots all night long.

And you can actually have intellectual conversations about life, love and art!

Low: Sometimes those friends can be condescending as F*CK.

Oh, the looks you get from jealous, bitchy eyes when you’re the youngest girl in the room. Ignorant entities cut you with their glances, squeeze one another’s arms and nod to each other knowingly: “Oh it’s clear why theyre together.”

As if you’re some sort of uncultured bimbo. As if you’re merely arm candy. As if you’re the pretty little decoration to the person you’re dating.

Nothing fills me more with rage! I’m far too opinionated to be anyone’s puppy.

However, I do quite enjoy the look on an old girl’s face when I’m able to quickly outsmart her, outwit her and out-sophisticate her within minutes of her bestowing a condescending comment upon me.

Highs and lows: sex

High: The sex is better.

It takes time to get comfortable in your body. It takes time to learn what the hell you’re doing in between the sheets. It takes heaps of trial and error to get really, really, really, really good at sex.

Which means dating someone older than you also means dating someone more sexually experienced than you.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not interested in being anyone’s “teacher” in sex. I want someone who can surprise me with her intense sexual prowess. Show me something I don’t know. Make me come like I never came before.

Low: They suck at sexting.

From my experience, sexting is most definitely a Millennial phenomenon. The generation before me can crush it with phone sex, but they’re at aloss when it comes tothe fine ART OF THE SEXT.

But it’s okay. The great thing about dating people who areolder is they don’t have massive egos that get in the way of them listening to you. Age has made them wise. They’re inherently faster learners than us youngins.

It’s also nice to teach your older lover a thing a two, you know?

source http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/20/the-blissful-highs-and-shtty-lows-of-dating-someone-older/ from All of Beer http://allofbeer.blogspot.com/2017/12/the-blissful-highs-and-shtty-lows-of.html

[adambstingus]

The Blissful Highs And Sh*tty Lows Of Dating Someone Older

I’m 29 years old, and I’ve dated all across the age spectrum in my decade-and-a-half-long bout in the dating world. I’ve dated younger men, younger women, older men and older women.

By the time I reached my early 20s, I kicked the boys to the curb (no disrespect gents, but I’m just a big ol’ lezzie creature). But let me tell you, sweet kittens: Gender aside, I’ve found in my vast searches that I much prefer to date up. And I’m not talking about “up” on the societal food chain. I’m not talking about “up” as in “social status” (F*CK social status). I’m talking about up as in grand ol’ AGE.

Basically, if you aren’t currently collecting social security checks, I’m not interested.

JUST KIDDING. I’m most definitely NOT into dating the super old. I’m just interested in (and currently am dating) someone notably older than little 29-year-old me. Seven to 10 years is ideal.

I’m a Millennial who doesn’t really enjoy doing Millennial things. In fact, I’m sort of like an old Upper East Side lady trapped in the body of a downtown Millennial.

I would rather sip cold white wine at a posh hotel bar with a stunning view of the city than take drugs and feverishly dance at the club. I’m allergic to public transportation. I abhor the taste of beer. I don’t like house parties in sh*t apartments that smell like a sea of dead rats are festering in the fridge.

My nightmare scenario is smoking cigarettes outside of a dingy bar on the Lower East Side (or, worse, Bushwick) with self-important 23-year-old hipsters, freezing my ass off listening to them talk bullsh*t.

No. I would rather hang out in cigar bars with a salt and pepper crowd whilst drinking dry gin and engaging in heated debates about the Israel/Palestine conflict.

I like to wear pretty dresses without being gawked at by 20-somethings in ripped denim who smugly ask me “Why are you so dressed up?” (Because I’m f*cking fabulous, you hipster douchebag). I like to go out to dinner for Christs sake.

So yes, there are a lot of kickass aspects to dating someone older than you: maturity. Civilized behavior. Mentoring. A sense of being “taken care of” (bully me as you will, I like to be “princessed” from time to time, and I don’t give a f*ck if you think that’s lame. My girlfriend doesn’t have any complaints).

That’s not to say there aren’t some, er, “challenging” aspects to amature relationship, like having to go home at midnight when you’re still ready to go wild. Or feeling acutely insecure about the lack of money in your bank account or being deemed nothing more than “arm candy” by their friends.

Dating someone older than you is a fierce, frustrating yet wonderfully eye-opening learning experience with a plethora of highs and lows.

Highs and lows: dating

High: They know how to take you on a “proper” date.

Most Millennials idea of a proper date is the good ol’ Netflix and Chill, which basically means you get all pretty and dressed up only to find yourself at some dude’s sh*tty apartment, scrolling through Netflix for 25 minutes before you have disappointing sex.

Not on my clock, kittens.

There is still romance left in this cruel, cold world. And based on my personal experience, you’ve got a better stab at finding it when you date a real adult.

To adults,a date is a proper dinner. With wine. With reservations. So when you get all lovely and douse yourself with a stealth splash of your very expensive limited editionChanel No.5 fragrance, it’s not being wasted sitting on a crummy couch somewhere deep in Brooklyn.

Low: You feel generally poor most of the time.

I don’t know about you, but I’m broke as a joke. I live in Manhattan. I pay an arm and a leg to live in a six-story walkup and literally live paycheck to paycheck.

Every time I swipe my credit card at Walgreens, I hold my breath, gaze up into the bleak fluorescent drug store lights and say a little prayer, Please go through. Please go through. Please go through.

Normally, I really don’t give a flying f*ck at the pathetic number in my bank account. If I can just keep my account out of the red, I’m pretty proud of myself. I’m young, I live in New York City, I survive, and I love my life. So who cares about money? Not me.

Well, until I start dating someone older.

All of a sudden, you accidentally peak into the number in their bank account when they’re checking their balance in the back of a Taxi, and you see double digits. In both savings and checking.

You suddenly realize they have 401Ks. They own things, like cars. They have multiple credits cards for which they’ve been approved.

And all I have is $250 in my checking account, and the only card I have is a Sephora beauty insider card.

Highs and lows: friends

High: They have interesting friends.

One of my favorite parts of dating up is the interesting, dynamic group of friends they’ve garnered in their years. They’re fascinating, chic, sophisticated creatures who prefer to ruminate over a nice glass of Vino rather than toss back tequila shots all night long.

And you can actually have intellectual conversations about life, love and art!

Low: Sometimes those friends can be condescending as F*CK.

Oh, the looks you get from jealous, bitchy eyes when you’re the youngest girl in the room. Ignorant entities cut you with their glances, squeeze one another’s arms and nod to each other knowingly: “Oh it’s clear why theyre together.”

As if you’re some sort of uncultured bimbo. As if you’re merely arm candy. As if you’re the pretty little decoration to the person you’re dating.

Nothing fills me more with rage! I’m far too opinionated to be anyone’s puppy.

However, I do quite enjoy the look on an old girl’s face when I’m able to quickly outsmart her, outwit her and out-sophisticate her within minutes of her bestowing a condescending comment upon me.

Highs and lows: sex

High: The sex is better.

It takes time to get comfortable in your body. It takes time to learn what the hell you’re doing in between the sheets. It takes heaps of trial and error to get really, really, really, really good at sex.

Which means dating someone older than you also means dating someone more sexually experienced than you.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not interested in being anyone’s “teacher” in sex. I want someone who can surprise me with her intense sexual prowess. Show me something I don’t know. Make me come like I never came before.

Low: They suck at sexting.

From my experience, sexting is most definitely a Millennial phenomenon. The generation before me can crush it with phone sex, but they’re at aloss when it comes tothe fine ART OF THE SEXT.

But it’s okay. The great thing about dating people who areolder is they don’t have massive egos that get in the way of them listening to you. Age has made them wise. They’re inherently faster learners than us youngins.

It’s also nice to teach your older lover a thing a two, you know?

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/20/the-blissful-highs-and-shtty-lows-of-dating-someone-older/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/168750131097

[allofbeercom]

The Blissful Highs And Sh*tty Lows Of Dating Someone Older

I’m 29 years old, and I’ve dated all across the age spectrum in my decade-and-a-half-long bout in the dating world. I’ve dated younger men, younger women, older men and older women.

By the time I reached my early 20s, I kicked the boys to the curb (no disrespect gents, but I’m just a big ol’ lezzie creature). But let me tell you, sweet kittens: Gender aside, I’ve found in my vast searches that I much prefer to date up. And I’m not talking about “up” on the societal food chain. I’m not talking about “up” as in “social status” (F*CK social status). I’m talking about up as in grand ol’ AGE.

Basically, if you aren’t currently collecting social security checks, I’m not interested.

JUST KIDDING. I’m most definitely NOT into dating the super old. I’m just interested in (and currently am dating) someone notably older than little 29-year-old me. Seven to 10 years is ideal.

I’m a Millennial who doesn’t really enjoy doing Millennial things. In fact, I’m sort of like an old Upper East Side lady trapped in the body of a downtown Millennial.

I would rather sip cold white wine at a posh hotel bar with a stunning view of the city than take drugs and feverishly dance at the club. I’m allergic to public transportation. I abhor the taste of beer. I don’t like house parties in sh*t apartments that smell like a sea of dead rats are festering in the fridge.

My nightmare scenario is smoking cigarettes outside of a dingy bar on the Lower East Side (or, worse, Bushwick) with self-important 23-year-old hipsters, freezing my ass off listening to them talk bullsh*t.

No. I would rather hang out in cigar bars with a salt and pepper crowd whilst drinking dry gin and engaging in heated debates about the Israel/Palestine conflict.

I like to wear pretty dresses without being gawked at by 20-somethings in ripped denim who smugly ask me “Why are you so dressed up?” (Because I’m f*cking fabulous, you hipster douchebag). I like to go out to dinner for Christs sake.

So yes, there are a lot of kickass aspects to dating someone older than you: maturity. Civilized behavior. Mentoring. A sense of being “taken care of” (bully me as you will, I like to be “princessed” from time to time, and I don’t give a f*ck if you think that’s lame. My girlfriend doesn’t have any complaints).

That’s not to say there aren’t some, er, “challenging” aspects to amature relationship, like having to go home at midnight when you’re still ready to go wild. Or feeling acutely insecure about the lack of money in your bank account or being deemed nothing more than “arm candy” by their friends.

Dating someone older than you is a fierce, frustrating yet wonderfully eye-opening learning experience with a plethora of highs and lows.

Highs and lows: dating

High: They know how to take you on a “proper” date.

Most Millennials idea of a proper date is the good ol’ Netflix and Chill, which basically means you get all pretty and dressed up only to find yourself at some dude’s sh*tty apartment, scrolling through Netflix for 25 minutes before you have disappointing sex.

Not on my clock, kittens.

There is still romance left in this cruel, cold world. And based on my personal experience, you’ve got a better stab at finding it when you date a real adult.

To adults,a date is a proper dinner. With wine. With reservations. So when you get all lovely and douse yourself with a stealth splash of your very expensive limited editionChanel No.5 fragrance, it’s not being wasted sitting on a crummy couch somewhere deep in Brooklyn.

Low: You feel generally poor most of the time.

I don’t know about you, but I’m broke as a joke. I live in Manhattan. I pay an arm and a leg to live in a six-story walkup and literally live paycheck to paycheck.

Every time I swipe my credit card at Walgreens, I hold my breath, gaze up into the bleak fluorescent drug store lights and say a little prayer, Please go through. Please go through. Please go through.

Normally, I really don’t give a flying f*ck at the pathetic number in my bank account. If I can just keep my account out of the red, I’m pretty proud of myself. I’m young, I live in New York City, I survive, and I love my life. So who cares about money? Not me.

Well, until I start dating someone older.

All of a sudden, you accidentally peak into the number in their bank account when they’re checking their balance in the back of a Taxi, and you see double digits. In both savings and checking.

You suddenly realize they have 401Ks. They own things, like cars. They have multiple credits cards for which they’ve been approved.

And all I have is $250 in my checking account, and the only card I have is a Sephora beauty insider card.

Highs and lows: friends

High: They have interesting friends.

One of my favorite parts of dating up is the interesting, dynamic group of friends they’ve garnered in their years. They’re fascinating, chic, sophisticated creatures who prefer to ruminate over a nice glass of Vino rather than toss back tequila shots all night long.

And you can actually have intellectual conversations about life, love and art!

Low: Sometimes those friends can be condescending as F*CK.

Oh, the looks you get from jealous, bitchy eyes when you’re the youngest girl in the room. Ignorant entities cut you with their glances, squeeze one another’s arms and nod to each other knowingly: “Oh it’s clear why theyre together.”

As if you’re some sort of uncultured bimbo. As if you’re merely arm candy. As if you’re the pretty little decoration to the person you’re dating.

Nothing fills me more with rage! I’m far too opinionated to be anyone’s puppy.

However, I do quite enjoy the look on an old girl’s face when I’m able to quickly outsmart her, outwit her and out-sophisticate her within minutes of her bestowing a condescending comment upon me.

Highs and lows: sex

High: The sex is better.

It takes time to get comfortable in your body. It takes time to learn what the hell you’re doing in between the sheets. It takes heaps of trial and error to get really, really, really, really good at sex.

Which means dating someone older than you also means dating someone more sexually experienced than you.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not interested in being anyone’s “teacher” in sex. I want someone who can surprise me with her intense sexual prowess. Show me something I don’t know. Make me come like I never came before.

Low: They suck at sexting.

From my experience, sexting is most definitely a Millennial phenomenon. The generation before me can crush it with phone sex, but they’re at aloss when it comes tothe fine ART OF THE SEXT.

But it’s okay. The great thing about dating people who areolder is they don’t have massive egos that get in the way of them listening to you. Age has made them wise. They’re inherently faster learners than us youngins.

It’s also nice to teach your older lover a thing a two, you know?

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/20/the-blissful-highs-and-shtty-lows-of-dating-someone-older/

[thoughtfullyhappydragon-blog]

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