#needless to say i was fucking pissed. i hated that class. it was pretentious in a bad way and literally my last choice and backup option.

[softgrungeprophet]

as a queer, neurodivergent writer/artist who likes to write fictional angst and sometimes uses that to work through my own health issues or other needs for catharsis, i think there is something (negative) to be said about the ways in which queer and othered (disabled etc.) artists are not just asked or expected but in some cases required to pry ourselves apart and provide personal information at every turn. as if by being atypical, you ought to provide only art that involves offering up your inner organs or some shit (and not in a sexy way)

this was unprompted, i just remembered that fucking queer theory + creative writing course i took and the way on the first day of class the creative writing professor told everyone to write about scars they had, to be read to the other students at your table (about 4 people total), and then... this teacher was truly, really surprised at how many of us chose not to tell a bunch of strangers about our deepest emotional scars and instead wrote about physical scars

like

bitch, i don't know you

you're in a class full of queer and disabled students, do you really think the physical body isn't part of that experience?? get real

[prael]

Rivalry

Kinktember Day 8: Hate Sex

(G)I-DLE Shuhua x male reader smut

words: 4,799 Kinktember Masterlist

School rivalries can get fierce, but none as fierce as this one.

It's been drilled in since the very first day, no matter what class you were in. From math tournaments to football games, these schools live and die by their standing. If one of them wins, the entire school wins. If they lose, then the school loses with them.

The fun in this rivalry has long since been drained from the system, replaced with spiteful desperation and a toxic desire. The sort of thing that has spilt well beyond the competition hall or the sports field, so much so that local authorities have had to step in for the safety and peace of mind of the students who might've gotten hurt in the chaos.

Needless to say, no individual is really to blame—or maybe all of them are.

You're coming off the back of a crushing victory at the start of this year's Summer Cup, bringing home an early advantage that, to you at least, has meant you could finally take a breath of fresh air, relax, and support your school the rest of the way. You had been chosen for the bits of media coverage (some of this actually makes national TV) such as the post-game interview spots, something not particularly fun, but something that gives you a chance to enjoy the win and rub it in the face of the rivals. Meaning that you were late to the ice bath and the shower and you're now walking through the corridor alone, while everyone is outside awaiting the next game.

Everyone except her.

There's a girl, wearing an outfit in the colours of your rival. Her yellow (really short) shorts, and white top, rolled up to just below her bust.

"You're in the wrong place," you call out as she walks closer, but she says nothing and gives a casual side-eye as she tries to walk on by. This pisses you off, so you move to block her. "I said you're in the wrong fucking place."

"Funny," she replies through that contemptuous smirk is there. She doesn't even try to mask it. "Since you're the one that's in my way. Get lost."

"See that?" You point to the wall, to the crest of your school. "This is our building. You aren't supposed to be here. What? Can't you read?"

The girl, having fully shifted her attention to you at this point, folds her arms beneath her chest. "Oh, grow up. It's an athletics competition. This is an athletics centre. You can take your tribalism elsewhere, bud."

The nickname and condescending tone, the absolute nonchalance that this girl seems to be able to project when speaking to you...it does something. It sends a twitch through your fists. "My tribalism? You're the one sporting your colours in our building."

The girl makes a brief, sarcastic sound. "I hate you all the same, but that doesn't mean you can deny me using the toilet in here. Move."

"Why don't you walk your pretentious arse back out the door where you came from, find the one next door and use it instead? Just seems like some foolish excuse to come in here and sabotage us, you people have a track record of this shit."

"Yeah, or," she responds, giving the most fake smile, before taking a step forward into your space. "Maybe I really need to use a toilet. Ever consider that, smart guy?"

This close, you can really take a good look at her. From her petite and lithe, athletic figure, to her soft skin, and messy ponytail. Her demeanour, too, along with her hazelnut eyes and pouting lips. It takes a moment, but soon, you recognise her. This is Shuhua. Maybe the most vocal of your rivals. Known for her antagonistic behaviour, her temper, her endless mocking and recently her frustration with always coming second.

"I know you."

"Congratu-fucking-lations, now step aside unless you want me to piss down your leg."

You grit your teeth at her crude words, "Toilet huh? Okay. Use it, but I'm escorting you there and then back out of the building. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

"I don't know, I'm a pretty skinny girl and you're a strong guy, maybe you could throw me pretty far..." Shuhua says as she steps past you. "You can wait by the door, fucking pervert."

You roll your eyes but don't dignify the insult with a response. Instead, you make sure to walk closely by her side and lead her to the ladies toilet. "You've got five minutes."

"Oh no. So scared," she drones before you swing the door open for her. She's about to step in when she stalls and glances up at you. "Sure you trust me? What if I... Oh, what if I leave the tap running and waste your water? How's that for sabotage?" Shuhua absolutely drenches her words in sarcasm.

You pull the door closed, forcing her to step inside without waiting for a reply. Once more, your fist twitches at the annoyance.

A couple of minutes pass before the door finally swings open and you watch as the girl saunters back out with a self-satisfied smirk. "There, that wasn't so hard, now was it? Want to come in and check the taps?"

That, funnily enough, does make you laugh, if a little humourlessly. "Don't you ever get sick of yourself? Actually, scratch that, that was stupid to ask, of course not," you mutter. "You know, I almost feel sorry for your school. Having to deal with you must be a real fucking burden. Hey, what's that they say, one bad apple and all that."

"Ugh, the fucking ego," Shuhua shakes her head as if she can't believe the nonsense. "You're even worse in person." She sighs and gestures in a bid for you to lead the way back towards the exit.

"Sounds like jealousy to me," you retort and start walking, and she follows behind. "Doesn't feel great, does it?"

You don't have to look, her exasperated scoff speaks volumes. "Wow. Is this really what your school thinks? Of course, it is, why would I ever have thought differently. You are all so fucking alike. All stuck in this same, boring headspace. And for the record, no, it isn't 'jealousy'. There is no jealousy here because I, unlike you, can pull my head out of my arse."

She's nothing if not stubborn, and while you know she's trying to get a rise out of you, you bite, "You're all the same at that fucking school, this is who they raised. Vocal, obnoxious, bitter. Too much time caring about how you look rather than results—"

A door slams behind you. You turn. The door to the locker room. Shuhua has disappeared.

You rush into the door, throwing it open. Empty, or so it seems, but she has to be in here somewhere. You walk down the left row of lockers, taking slow, quiet steps. Listening, hoping to hear the smallest bit of movement. The crunch of feet, a giggle, the slight jangle of coins.

Nothing.

You're approaching the end of the row of lockers and nothing so far. You get right up against the corner, readying to quickly round it when you think you hear a small breath from just the other side.

Three, two, one, and you launch yourself around the corner.

Shuhua is right there, waiting, she grabs you by the shoulders and pins you against the lockers with a crash, before smiling sweetly.

"What the fuck are you doing—"

You're immediately hushed by the feeling of something soft pressed against your lips, followed by the press of a hand against your groin and a thigh, nestled right between yours.

It takes a moment. You're not quite sure how to process this. It's instinct more than anything that makes your hands come to grasp and clutch Shuhua's ass firmly. She grins and lets out an approving hum, slipping her tongue in while squeezing harder against your groin and getting another equally pleasurable response of you tightening your grip on her.

There's a few moments of this, kissing, back against the lockers, Shuhua against your chest. Then, your tongue meets hers, and she lets a soft moan into your mouth. A moment of weakness that allows you to shove her backwards against the wall with a thump. It takes less than a moment and you're both back at it again, clawing away at each other. Your body presses her into the wall, lips parting before briefly, quickly reconnecting. Shuhua doesn't resist, and not long after, you've parted the kiss, she's moved her lips to your neck and you're running a hand down her thigh.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you growl into her ear as your fingertips approach the edge of those frustratingly short shorts. "Did your little brain figure out you can't win these events so you have to find other ways to know what winning feels like? If you can't beat them, fuck them?"

The girl pulls herself from your neck and takes a fist full of your hair. "You piece of shit," she seethes. "Like you aren't desperate for this pussy."

You aggressively push your hand up under her shorts and she squeaks as you clutch the flesh of her ass in a tight grip. You pull her and she raises a leg around you. "This pussy? You have got to be kidding me. Have you seen the cheerleaders at our school?"

She uses her legs to push you aside, forcing you to swap positions with her. She has you against the wall now, and her hand has dipped down the front of your shorts. She's grinning, groping you in a tight, frustratingly wonderful, fist. "Bunch of bimbos who fall to their knees as soon as you turn on the charm."

"I didn't even have to turn on the charm for you. What does that say about you?"

She takes a firmer grip on your length and a loud groan escapes from deep within you. Shuhua can't help herself, her lips quirking into that insufferable smirk, her eyes shining. "It says that you couldn't take your eyes off my ass the entire walk down that corridor, you fucking animal. You were practically salivating. Just like you're doing now."

She uses her free hand to swipe her thumb against the corner of your mouth.

"Pretty sure that's yours," you tell her before you slide your hands up her exposed sides and slip your fingers under her shirt, pulling it up and she quickly raises her free arm so you can slip it over it and over her head, leaving it around the arm still buried into your trousers.

There she is, bra and tits on show and being fucking annoyingly hot.

Even if she doesn't stop you from undressing her, she still berates you for it, "Look at you, can't wait to touch them, can you. Are you really that simple? See a pair of tits and you get hornier than a fucking dog in heat?"

"So says the girl who can't get her hand off my cock," you reply, hand slipping beneath her bra and your fingers closing around her nipple.

She raises an eyebrow and looks down at her chest, "Did I say you could touch me there?"

"So now we're talking consent, Miss 'Grab-cock-ask-questions-later'?" you snarl, fingers rolling the nipple in between them. "A bit late, don't you think?"

Shuhua's really stroking you now, even with limited space inside your shorts, she's able to use her thumb to circle around your sensitive tip with each jerk. "Yeah, well. I didn't sign up to get molested by a dickhead like you."

"Right back at you."

Shuhua laughs a little then cracks a wicked smile, one that is as seductive as it is contemptuous. The girl shrugs, reaches a hand behind her and unclasps her bra. She takes her hand out of your shorts and lets it fall off with her shirt. Bare little tits with stiff nipples stare at you—and you stare back. "Never seen a pair before? Or just not a pair on a girl as hot as me?"

"I've seen better."

"Yeah, sure you have sweetie." Shuhua tugs at the waist of your shorts and underwear until she pushes them down to your knees. "You know..." she starts as her gaze drops down to your aching shaft. "There's a rumour at our school that all the guys in your school are decidedly average down there, and are real bad at using them," she looks you in the eye with an eager smile, biting her lip.

"Want to know what they say about girls at your school?" You grab a hand full of her tit in a tight grasp and squeeze her flesh firmly, eliciting a sharp gasp. "They say all the girls are sluts but are fucking terrible at giving head. Funny, since all you seem to do is run your mouth." You push her back until it's your turn to have her pinned against the lockers. "Here, I'll show you how you can put that mouth to better use."

Pushing down on her shoulders, you guide her to her knees. "Hey, I never said that I—" You jerk your hips and you hit her on the cheek with your length. "The fuck?"

"You've been licking your lips since you pulled my shorts down. Stop pretending this isn't what you wanted." You rub yourself against her cheek.

"I should tear this ugly cock right off," Shuhua says as she wraps her fingers around the base of it. Then, before you have time to register it, her mouth is already on you, engulfing your head. The sudden wetness around your most delicate part, her tongue dancing along it, the suction her mouth produces; it's hard to comprehend all of it. What she says and what her mouth is doing contradict one another.

Then her head begins to bob, her lips firmly wrapped around your cock. As she sucks, she simultaneously strokes it, making sure no bit of you remains unserviced. It doesn't take long for her to build a tempo, and it doesn't take long for you to want more.

Your hand locks around her ponytail and she shivers when you pull at it. She glares at you but doesn't complain and continues working your length. Her mouth feels absolutely exquisite—warm, wet, and tight. With every stroke, the desire to be buried inside her gets stronger. You groan, moving her faster on your shaft.

"Rip it off, huh? Look at you sucking me off like the needy little whore you are. Just look at you."

Shuhua moans into you and she keeps on sucking. The vibrations the noise creates are an absolute pleasure. Your hips buck and the motion takes the girl by surprise, who immediately gags as you hit the back of her mouth. She immediately goes to draw back but the hand locked onto her ponytail refuses her release.

"Where the hell do you think you're going," you force your hips forward.

And you're off. You begin facefucking this annoying girl, who struggles and chokes every time you go balls-deep into her mouth. Still, not once does she try to push your hips, or her teeth to bite. Not once does her head make any gesture to signal that she actually wants you to stop, or even ease off. It seems she's determined to prove that she's not only better than all your cheerleaders, or your classmates, but she's also determined to prove that she's capable of taking everything you give, and all without needing to ask for respite.

"You're so much prettier when you aren't talking," you taunt her.

As a response, she stabs her nails into your ass. Hard. The pain makes you roar, both in surprise and anger. Shuhua simply responds by sucking you harder.

As fun as this is, the urge to ravage her more is still incredibly high, even if that means pulling out of the confines of the girl's sinful mouth. You give it a good couple of minutes before you finally relent and let her go. You pull your hips back and Shuhua instantly coughs, splutters and falls backwards onto her rear.

"The fuck do you think you're doing? I'm not done with that. Get it back here." She spits those words at you angrily, looking almost disgusted, with spit drooling down her chin and coating her lips.

You look at her, hunched over the floor, panting, in only her little yellow shorts. Looking more beautiful and desirable than you ever remember her doing on camera or out on the track. You fall on your knees in front of her and push your hand into her shorts, causing her breath to hitch and her pupils to dilate.

"Well aren't you eager?" she hums, letting out a husky purr as your fingertips tease the delicate lips of her entrance. "What's up, couldn't take any more of my mouth? We're you going to cum so quickly? I know you've never had anyone quite like me before."

"Not even close to cumming," you sneer. "In fact, let's get one thing clear. I don't have standards as low as the boys in your school, I don't just cum at the sight of some tits and the feel of your trashy mouth." Your finger slips past her lips and a surprised moan escapes her throat. "God you're fucking soaked."

"Trashy?" she scoffs and slowly rolls her body in response to your intruding digit. "Should have seen your face with my lips around you, you fucking adored it, dickhead. If you want disappointment, try being in my shoes. This pathetic excuse for fingering? It's like when I did it for the first time."

"Yeah?" You drive a second finger into her and curl your fingers as you begin to stand, forcing her to follow you to her feet. You push your body against hers, pinning her to the locker, squishing those tits against you.

She lets out a taunting, "Yeah" this time, huskily, while arching her back a little, raising those beautiful breasts. "And my first time was real bad. I couldn't even make myself cum. Maybe we do have something in common." While she's talking, you're using your other hand to free her shorts and panties from her hips, sliding them over that juicy ass that you press against the cold metal locker. "I doubt you have ever made a girl c—"

You move fast and hard. Your fingers curled into her cunt, palm pressed against her clit, thrusting into her, and your eyes fall right onto hers, piercing, right into her soul. Her eyes widen with shock and then quickly darken and roll back. Those sweet, vicious lips of hers open as her mind is stunned into silence and her face contorts in pleasure. "Cute," you smirk, speeding up.

"I—I'm fine. You—" You push your other hand against her neck and you lean right against her ear.

"Shut your pretty mouth," you growl, you thrust your fingers deeper. Shuhua can't control the shocks of her own pleasure as she grows limp, her eyes rolling back, her moans coming out uncontrollably and rapidly. Her pussy is quivering, pulsing, you can feel her orgasm growing inside.

You push closer and kiss her as the muscles in her lower belly spasm, and she trembles as her cunt clamps down on your fingers. Shuhua pulls and scrapes her fingers along your skin. "Fucking god, fuck," the girl tries to continue to speak, but she is in total ecstasy. You drink the words directly from her mouth.

When you pull away, her body falls away from the locker, but you hold her tightly and dip a hand right under the curve of her ass, keeping her standing. You smirk triumphantly. "Who can't make you cum, bitch?" you tease her.

"Fuck you," Shuhua mumbles into your ear.

"Oh, you will." You shuffle across the room, finding the nearest bench and falling back onto it, pulling Shuhua onto you. "This is all you're good for, I bet." You pull your shirt over your head and then Shuhua throws herself against your naked body. Her tits press against your bare chest, and your stiff cock is trapped between your stomachs.

"We'll see," she breathes, running a hand into your hair and yanking at the locks as she pulls herself upright.

Your lips meet hers, a passionate and desperate union as the need to be in her consumes your every fibre. Tongues dance and your hands explore one another's bodies. Groping, stroking, touching, squeezing, grinding. When the kiss ends, she leans her forehead against yours, her eyes lidded.

"I hate you," you growl into the space in front of her.

"You too," she says, hoisting her hips up over your cock. With a mischievous and playful look in her eye, she furrows her eyebrows. "But you won't when this is over. You're gonna fucking worship me."

Before you can think to retort, she sinks herself onto you and, after what feels like a torturously long series of minutes of teasing and waiting, your bodies finally unite. Her inner walls are unbelievably hot and wet, squeezing down around you as if desperate for you to remain buried within her. Shuhua makes no attempts to hide her expression, her head rolls back and her teeth press down on her lip to conceal an enchanting whine. Her breasts press firmly into your hands as you hastily reach to cup them.

It doesn't take long at all for the pair of you to adjust, and you begin to pump your hips beneath hers. She's fucking down onto you too and it's a mess, there's no rhythm, two different bodies fighting to control a single movement, all the while searching desperately for the best result. You're on different wavelengths, and it's glorious, the chaos is addictive. It's raw fucking, and it's fucking amazing.

As frustrating and confusing as it is, nothing in the world feels better right now. Your chest heaving with every desperate gasp as she grinds onto you and around you, her lust-filled gaze still struggling to fight away your shared frustrations, it's raw and incredible.

"Oh God, right there." Shuhua squeezes her eyes shut and buries her forehead into the crook of your neck, her body shuddering and tensing with every push you make into her. Her pace on you is irregular, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. But as her orgasm grows inside of her, she sinks harder and deeper down upon you, taking you as deep as she possibly can and as often as you will give it to her.

"Bad at using it, am I?" you jest with a strained voice, slapping her ass hard as the impact causes it to ripple. "So bad that you're cumming already?"

"Tch." She goes to speak, to say something witty and defiant, but the sensation hits and her eyelids flutter, she twitches and lets out a shuddering moan as another climax hits her, "Ah fuck. God." Her nails dig into the skin of your chest, hard, painful enough that you hiss. "I'm doing all the work here."

"As you should be. Getting the privilege to ride my cock, the least you could do is break a sweat," you tell her.

She opens her eyes to flash you a glare and she slams her body down on your hips a bit faster. "You just know— that you couldn't— fuck as good as me."

Shuhua rides you mercilessly, completely lost in her desire to get herself off again. You enjoy the way her tits bounce and the way you can freely land a series of spanks on her bouncing ass.

"Guess that makes me more of a winner than you'll ever be." She tries to bite her lip, to hide it, but the pleasure that shines through her features is impossible to miss. She cums again, harder, no doubt about it.

This time, when the climactic orgasm subsides, she fights against her exhaustion with ragged, heavy breaths. You can see her lips twitch. Words escape her, so instead, she focuses on attempting to ride your cock even more mercilessly, just like earlier.

"Looks like you're all spent," you continue and push a hand onto her hip, steadying her before shoving her aside and away, pulling out. Shuhua topples and stumbles onto the floor, with her hands on the bench, breathing heavily. She's bent over the bench and her back glistens with a thin layer of sweat, her ass up in the air. Her body trembles with anticipation.

You don't hesitate. Not for a single second.

Before Shuhua can so much as open her mouth, you're behind her, your hands on her hips, her skin slick.

"Here's your loser's prize," you tell her as you slide back home, back inside her, feeling yourself plunged so deeply. Her thick ass presses against your hips and you spread it to push in deeper. You take in the beautiful view of her well-toned, petite back. The outline of every muscle stretches and flexes as she claws desperately at the benches as her pleasure is recharged, and restored, as though the fire is reignited with your touch. She lets out a soft little hiss, the briefest hint of displeasure that's quickly overcome by her passion for the raw sensation of sex. She relishes your presence and your length, and as she relaxes once more, she allows herself to sink into the rhythm of the rut.

You fuck her, taking pleasure in the way her body pushes back against yours, your balls slapping against her, and the obscene wet noises as you take her from behind. It's a dizzying crescendo, a desire so great that it cannot possibly be contained. To both yourself and Shuhua, desire cannot be denied, for you to cum inside her.

All you have left now is to pound the life out of this smug bitch's tight cunt, one hard, sharp, aggressive thrust after the other.

"Finally—" You raise a hand and bring it down upon the cheek of her arse. Hard, harsh, jiggling. The skin flushes and burns an angry red. She squeals in delight, she arches her body up as she takes the rough fucking. "Finally something useful has come out of your fucking school. One good pussy, just for me." Another slap. Another cry.

"Making me cum, is all you're good for. Just a cock," she spits back as her body shakes and bucks back onto your hardness, "One good fuck, just for me."

Shuhua straight-up shrieks when you wrap a fist up in her ponytail and yank her backwards, arching her spine. She cums again like this, and the hot rush of pleasure sends you spiralling off the edge yourself. It is utterly satisfying, the burning in your loins, and the immense pleasure that follows as your dick unloads in powerful spurt after powerful spurt. All of the tension evaporates, and all the negativity flows away as you find absolute pleasure. Shuhua takes what you give to her and it's absolute bliss.

For the longest moment, there's nothing but moans and grunts as you cum together before you let her collapse against the bench and you fall over her. Shuhua heaves beneath you, your warm fluids slowly leaking out around your exhausted cock. You suck in deep, gulping lungfuls of air as you grind out the final dying sparks of a well and truly mind-numbing orgasm.

"Still feel the same way about me now?" you groan. Your cock slips out, followed by a mixture of your combined orgasmic release.

Her head lifts. Hazel eyes focus and then fixate on yours. She almost manages to mask the grin, but she can't help it. Shuhua bites her bottom lip and glances at the space where, moments ago, your body had been conjoined.

"I still hate you. Don't think this means I'm suddenly a fangirl."

"Of course not, it's in your DNA to hate me. Just like how the sight of you still makes me sick." You place a kiss against the top of her spine and savour the brief hum of approval she gives.

"Uh-huh." Shuhua laughs. "Shame you couldn't last a little longer... I was just about to let you fuck my virgin ass." She lays her forehead against the cool wood of the bench, and you rest your head between her shoulder blades. "I guess my pussy is just too much for you."

"Or maybe," you hiss into her ear. "Maybe I'm saving that for the next time I catch your obnoxious ass around here."

"You think there will be a next time?"

"I know there will."

[muskywolfthings]

Drivethrough

Derek didn’t need money for much, and it wasn’t just because his family was pretty well off, okay? He wasn’t stuck up, or snooty, like Jackson. He didn’t subtly flaunt his wealth like Lydia. He just...was Derek, plain and simple. He didn’t buy much, his mom usually taking care of his clothes, as childish as it sounded. He hated shopping though, so it was a pretty sweet deal. He took Laura’s car to school now that she was taking college classes from home, so she always filled it back up. And come Christmas, his mom gave out a hundred bucks to shop for everyone in the family. Which, in retrospect, was certainly not enough for the twenty plus Hale’s that gathered out in the preserve around that time. But they made it work. Which was all to say, he’d never had to worry about getting a job. He was seventeen, a senior in high school, and he’d never had a job. It had never really embarrassed him, more so made him that much more grateful for the life he was able to live. Until he’d started dating Stiles. Stilinski had always been on his radar, loud and filling up space so obnoxiously it was hard not to notice him. Especially when he flirted with Derek so hard sometimes the other boy contemplated just choking Stiles out on his dick to get some peace. Only sometimes though. Derek wasn’t aggressive by nature. Usually. But that’s all it had ever been, annoying digs at his dick and height, talks of stubble burn between cheeks that made Stiles giggle and Derek blush. But then Stiles had actually asked him out on a date. And Derek...Derek fell really fucking hard in the span of about forty five minutes.

Needless to say, they’d been almost inseparable ever since. Six months of fucking awesome dates, sneaky school and car sex, and overall cuteness between the two. And then Stiles had gone and done it. Ruined everything. Entirely. Derek wasn’t one for dramatics, okay? But Stiles had gotten him a small triskele pendant carved into a shined piece of copper on a necklace for his birthday, and Derek had strong armed him with extra smelly pits that afternoon until he spilled how much it had cost. Derek’s eyes almost bugged out of his damn head, and though Stiles assured him he didn’t mind, and was just happy Derek liked it, Derek felt...weird. Stiles had been working at their local comic shop since he was fifteen, picking up as many shifts as he could before he’d started dating Derek to save for college, and to help out at home. It was his own little heaven on earth, but then Derek had come along, and he’d shifted down to part time. Which meant he’d spent like two paychecks on a gift for Derek, which Derek couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Jump forward two months, and Derek found himself nearing Stiles’ birthday with increasing worry. Wasn’t going to ask his mom for the money, knowing she’d say yes, when Stiles had worked hard to get something that Derek never took off for anything. Derek knew what he wanted to get him: A first edition Batman comic that was on display at his store, that he’d wanted since he first went in at age nine. Derek got nervous just looking at the price tag on that thing whenever he went in on Stiles’ shifts  to keep him company sometimes, but dammit if Stiles didn’t deserve the world. And Derek was going to give it to him! One comic book at a time. Needless to say that all led to the here and now. Two weeks out from Stiles’ birthday, and one paycheck away from his goal. He was so close he could practically taste the plastic covering that damn comic. Too bad the grease in the air from the burger joint he’d gotten hired at was all he could taste at the moment. Beacon Burger, a run down burger joint just on the edge of town, that literally no one ever stopped in. Derek came in three times a week, for a night shift. 8 PM to 4 AM, Fridays, Saturdays, and Wednesdays. It was easy going, but boring as fuck, and due to the time of his shifts Stiles could never stop by. One perk was the free food- when he got hungry he’d whip up something greasy to chow down on- which was resulting in a slight pudge in  his usual hard stomach that was bothering him, but Stiles’ sort of loved it so it wasn’t all bad. He’d find something that was a little more hands on and fun come the summer maybe, but for right now, this was the first place to hire him-Hollister aside, he hadn’t even wanted to go to that interview, but Stiles insisted the pretentious surfer clothing aside, they could have hot sex in the dressing rooms, which was tempting, but the overwhelming smell of teen in that store gave Derek a headache. So Beacon Burger it was. Tapping his fingers on the counter next to register, Derek hummed to himself- flipping through his phone with his free hand, about to text Stiles and see if he was up, when the light indicating a car was coming through the drive through flashed, and he frowned- setting his phone down and lowering his headset mic to his mouth. It was almost one in the morning on a wednesday, who the hell was here? They didn’t have a camera to view the customers at the speaker, so he cleared his throat, before turning his headset mic on and reciting the usual. “Hi welcome to Beacon Burger, my names Derek. What can I get for you tonight?” His voice was soft and monotone, perfect for customers, supposedly, but he made a soft high noise in the back of his throat at the familiar laugh that came through the static in his headset. “Don’t suppose six foot four hunks who didn’t shower after wrestling practice are on the menu?” Stiles called from the window of his jeep, grinning as he imagined Derek’s brows doing that adorable wiggling and dip thing. “What the hell are you doing out right now?” Derek questioned, Amusement palpable in his voice, as he leaned against the counter and smiled. His night a thousand percent better already. “I couldn’t sleep dude, and I’ve got the sickest sweet tooth right now.” Stiles admitted, head on his hands as he spoke into the speaker as if he and Derek were just on the phone. “Uh, we have like, some shakes and shit...don’t know if the cream in the fridge is anything good though, to be honest.” Derek muttered, glancing over at the suspiciously warm fridge of theirs. “Lemme try and find something for you.” He called, before going to move into the kitchen, only to have Stiles’ voice freeze him. “I was thinking some cakes?” He said, innocently enough, and Derek’s brows did indeed do their adorable wiggle, as he looked around himself almost to see if he were somewhere. “We...what the fuck? We don’t have cakes.” He scoffed, shaking his head and moving back to the window, glancing out far enough just to see the bumper of Stiles’ jeep. “Lies, you one thousand percent have cakes dude. Come on, just two, just a taste, to get rid of my craving.” Stiles’ voice dripped with that sound that sent shivers down Derek’s spine, also the crease in his sweaty nuts. His cock giving a throbbing to life slowly in his dirty briefs as he gulped, and recalled a conversation he’d had with Stiles just a few days ago. When he’d refused to stop calling Derek a snack in class, and demanded to eat his ‘cakes’. Glancing around the restaurant to ease his own mind, Derek spent no more than five seconds contemplating what he was about to do, before he locked himself in the kitchen, and adjusted himself behind his apron. He better not get fucking fired for this, or he was going to strangle Stiles. “Come on around, these are on the house.” Derek whispered, clearing his throat and blushing furiously under his week old stubble and Stiles laughed, and the sound of his jeep pulling forward came through his headset. Derek had in fact had wrestling practice before coming into work, and he’d come straight from the school. He hadn’t showered since Monday night, Stiles’ keeping him busy Tuesday night, and practice running late before he had to go in for his shift, he just hadn’t had the time. His balls and bush were crusty with dried cum and spit from Stiles’ expert blowjob skills the night before, and his ass hair was matted and dripping with sweat. Both from practice, and the heat in the kitchen. He knew he smelled fucking atrocious, caught a whiff of it as he slid his shorts down with one hand, and slid the drive through window open all the way with the other. It made him huff a bit, growling under his breath as he took a second to fan the scent up at himself, eyes bleeding yellow for a split second, before he shook it off and hopped up on the windowsill. Fat ass plump and hanging out of the window just as Stiles drove up. The chilly night air blew through his smelly, wet crack and made him break out in goosebumps- just as Stiles parked and leaned out of his window, wasting no time in running his nose along the crack of Derek’s hairy ass, and moaning out brokenly at the ripe scent. “You’re so fucking dirty.” He nearly mewled, Derek grinning despite his blush as he looked back over his shoulder, cock fully hard and dripping piss and precum from his foreskin as he watched Stiles press his face into his ass, face engulfed by Derek’s huge hairy cheeks in a way that made Derek moan just from the image- gripping his cock at the base and stroking up, balls swinging and dripping sweat onto the floor as Stiles found his asshole, and pressed his nosed into the dirty wrinkled pucker. Rubbing it up and down, easing a slight itch Derek had been picking at conspicuously throughout the day. His mouth fell open, and he felt like an animal as he openly drooled onto his apron, cock out and ready to bust already, his ass hanging out of a fucking drive through window as his boyfriend began to eat it. Tongue flicking out once he’d gotten his fill of the stink, and now doing his damn best to lick up every ounce of raunchiness from between Derek’s cheeks. The noises he made- sloppy and wet, mixed with his mouns and snorts for more funk in between jabs of his tongue into Derek;’s dirty asshole drove the bigger boy wild. He was bucking back on Stiles’ face, gripping at the window with one hand so he didn’t fall out and break an arm or something, the other stroking his cock furiously. Wet, snotty noises coming from his soaked foreskin. He was grunting like an animal, fucking himself on Stiles’ tongue as he looked back and did his best to spread his ass on the windowsill, despite the metal beneath digging into his taint hard. “Eat that fucking ass, god your tongue feels so fucking good. Deeper, fucking- deeper! Fuck!” Derek was nearly screaming as Stiles spread him open wide, exposing his ass to anyone who may be around and want a peek, licking all over his hole, before sucking on the wrinkled fleshing and plunging his tongue in so deep Derek tensed uncontrollably. Feeling his own walls clamp down on Stiles’ tongue, dug so deep up his fucking hole Derek was sure any more and he’d tongue fuck his prostate, sent him over the edge so suddenly his vision whited out. His cock bursting hard enough to spray the register and counter with cum- fat balls jumping near the base of his cock as he milked himself for all he was worth, a solid minute and a half of spurting till he was wringing out the last drops into his foreskin and out onto his apron. So fucking tired all of the sudden that he slid back and used Stiles’ face as a rest for his ass and a good chunk of his weight. His boyfriend munching on his hole until the familiar sounds of his own orgasm hit Derek’s ears- glancing back again just in time to watch Stiles’ plump pink cock burst over his steering wheel. Derek smiled lazily, grinding his ass back and wiggling it on Stiles’ face just to be a dick, before hopping down from the counter on shaky legs, listening to Stiles gasp for breath. Clean air, face red, a few streay ass pubes around his mouth, his lips swollen and red, and a dopey smile smack dab in the middle of it all. “You’re a public menace.” Derek laughed, leaning out of the window, ass dripping spit to mingle with the various other bodily fluids on the ground as he brought Stiles into a soft kiss. Woofing under his breath as he drug his nose above it, scenting his own ass. “If I get fired because someone finds out we did this, you’re dead.” He growled, nipping down Stiles’ chin and neck, shaking his head at the eye roll he could nearly hear, before Stiles was nibbling on that special part of his earlobe that made him grip the edges of the window to keep from falling to his knees. “You’d totally still love me.” And dammit if that wasn’t the truth,. Derek though, biting extra hard on Stiles’ shoulder just to hear him shout, before pulling back and shoving his face back into the jeep. “As if.” He huffed, before smiling and winking at Stiles as he started the jeep back up- slumping back in his seat, prepared for a comfortable ride home. “I’ll see you at school in the morning?” He asked, as though there was more than one answer. “Of course. Hope you satisfied your craving. Zero calories too.” Derek grinned, that wolfish thing Stiles’ loved so much. “As if. Take it easy, big guy. Love ya.” Stiles called, before pulling forward. “Love you too.” Derek muttered, taking a deep breath and expelling it dramatically. Fucking Stiles. He should’ve pulled his skinny cute ass out of that jeep and made him lick Derek’s mess. Now he had to clean it up himself. Just great. At least his last two weeks were going to be very, very enjoyable. ((Hello all! I know it’s been a while guys, seriously sorry for being so quiet and not posting literally anything in weeks. Just haven’t been super motivated to write since the whole Tumblr crack down thing. But I got this idea after seeing a particularly raunchy gifset, and tada! It inspired me super quickly and I was actually able to sit down and immediately and...here you have it lol. I hope you guys enjoy! More stories to come, hopefully soon, but no promises :3 ))

[nako-doodles]

best of me & go go ❣️

best of me - what is your best feature?

my utter disdain for bullshit. oh! and also my aversion to anything super serious.

I really hate it when people talk in circles around me, or if people don’t get straight to the point. needless to say, I have pissed off many authority figures bc I dont have patience for unnecessary pleasantries or walking around in eggshells. the fastest way someone gets onto my shitlist, other than being an unreasonable and inconsolable dick other people, is to bullshit me.

I also really physically cant take anything overly seriously? this is how I piss off the rest of the authority figures. I will take things seriously if need be, but expect me to crack jokes and laugh about the entire time. my threshold to remain on my best behavior is only the bare minimum before the atmosphere gets to me and I need to break it or alleviate it somehow. 

prime example of this: the entire senior staff of our HS newspaper went to DC to compete in the columbia scholastic press association awards thingy and also to cover obama’s second inauguration, so you know, Serious Shit where ‘I expect you to all be on your best behavior blahblahblah we are presenting our school blahblahblah’ and the entire time when I was supposed to interview people on racism and implications for having a second term african american president and I basically fucked off and started cracking jokes about how the conservative pundits on fox news were going to foam at their mouths over his choice of condiment at the ball later. in my defense it was 5am and we were stuck on the metro system and I couldnt feel my face or my feet bc it was c o l d a s f u c k and I literally had 3 hours of sleep. 

there was this other time during our senior week where the first day we were supposed to greet/welcome the school to our graduation festivities by standing in our gowns and clutching flower and basically shake all the god damned hands of all the parents, teachers, faculty, and students who were invited to senior tea. which is terrible 120% dont recommend fuck traditions. 

anyways, I am a glutton, so I stationed myself right in front of the reception hall at the end of the lineup so I could get my friends to sneak me those petit fours and refreshments and coffee so I dont go crazy smiling my white people smile and being a Lady Of Nice Breeding or some shit. halfway through, there was a lag at the middle of our line, and we got a reprieve from weirdly tactile grandmothers and weepy faculty members that you never really talked to, so I thought this was perfect time to stretch and massage some feeling back into my face and hands, and ofc the best way to combat this is to get my friends to crack up obnoxiously at the end of the line and long story short the headmistress and head of schools had to come and chastise me for ruining the ‘atmosphere’ of senior tea or something about not upholding pretentious traditions. the headmistress was so relieved she kicked our entire class and more specifically me out of high school she Cried™. good times. 

go go - what’s your favourite hobby/ thing to do in your free time?

when I have time, I like wandering through cities with a cup of tea or coffee in hand, and maybe a novel or a sketchbook in another. sometimes I wander into parks or museums or tourist traps or theaters, other times I sit at pretentious coffee shops and people watch, or, when I just get my paycheck, I yelp some delicious restaurants and spend the day gorging myself. I loved living w my friends in our fancy ass dorms but sometimes I just needed time to myself, so I spend entire Saturdays when my life isn’t falling apart before my eyes taking myself on dates on money I made wrangling 6th graders into reading the alchemist. its very romantic. I would know. I was there.

love yourself: her asks 🌸

[maumeetsworld]

Welcome to your tape, bitch

Oh. My. God. This show is the perfect example of how I am actively ruining my life with the conscious decisions I make. I spent one week hate-watching it mainly because I wanted to understand the whole controversy around it contribute to all the shitposting happening on Tumblr. So there I was, sitting on my couch, ready for some Netflix & Chill - the real kind, not the Grindr-enabled one - and then I heard Hannah Baker's voice, which led me to the following point:

1. How conceited is this girl?

I knew this was shit the moment I heard her saying she wasn't going to send her victimizers a podcast because she wouldn't make it that easy for them, so instead she sent them plain old cassettes. Bitch, seriously? You're dead, whatever makes you think that people who dgaf about you when you were alive, will do it now just because you took the easy way out? Next time you want to guilt-trip your classmates from the grave, at least wait till after they've contacted you through a Ouija board.

And don't even get me started on her self-proclaimed moral superiority. She blames Jessica for her death because she slapped her, but then Hannah witnessed her being raped and that didn't ring a bell on how shitty a person she was too? Like, please, you would have gotten a million tapes yourself had anyone else come up with the same stupid idea.

This brings me to the second point.

2. She was not alone

This show would have been remotely less annoying if Hannah had actually been isolated. In fact, they tried to go there by having her say how lonely, unpopular, and disliked she was, and how everyone was just trying to get her. Except they were not. In fact she made a fuckload of friends throughout the series. She was dating the jocks, experimenting with the Queen Bee, being all deep and intellectual with the gay guy, going to parties at the cheerleader's house, friendzoning the hot geek, and even having her own little version of The Breakfast Club with an Eminem wannabe.

And yet you're telling me that she was unpopular and nobody liked her? Yeah, OK, next.

3. Her reasons to kill herself are ridiculous

Somebody stole the drawing that some anon left in your compliment box? Heartbreaking. Was that a reason to kill yourself? Of course not! Well, on a second thought, maybe the fact that she went to a school where they had compliment boxes was.

Seriously, what were the writers thinking when they were working on this script? Did nobody think that this was stupid af? Suicide is never justifiable, but fuck, if you're going to do it, at least come up with a decent reason. Don't slit your wrists open over someone reading your anonymous poem in class, which, by the way, nobody even knew was you. There's a fine line between crying for help and stirring up drama just for the sake of it. Hannah Baker mostly dwelt in the latter.

4. None of this would have happened if she had not been actively looking for drama

Hannah was upset because the high school jock shared a pic of her undies. He then told the whole school that she was an easy lay. Outrageous. Then one of his friends tried to pull a Donald Trump on her (and grab her by the pussy) because, you know, the high school jock said she was easy, remember? All of that I get.

What I don't get is why over the course of the series she continued interacting with him and everyone else who was mean to her - according to her delusional ass, anyway - and even getting in a hot tub with them. I'm sorry, but that's not the behavior of someone who's deeply hurt and desperate for things to improve. That's the behavior of someone asking for it. No, I don't mean rape. Rape is never justifiable. I mean drama. She was asking for drama and if she didn't t get  it, she would create it.

5. The rape aftermath

OK, fine, the whole rape situation was not cool. Yet her blaming the counselor is what really pissed me off. Hannah, being the dumb ass teen that she is was, wanted justice - which I totally get. What I don't get is why the fuck would she even bother to go and make a scene at the counselor's office and then throw a bitch fit at him when he told her that she needed to move on? Yes, that is a shitty answer, but what was she expecting? He was a fucking counselor for fuck's sake, not Professor Xavier. He couldn't read your mind, girl. If you she truly wanted him to help, then she should have spoken up and spilled the tea on Bryce. Oh, no. instead she went crazy and stormed out of the room ready to do the job, but not before standing outside of the counselor's office hoping he would run after her.

The hell you think you are, Hannah? Cinderella? Who'd want to run behind a crazy, borderline psychotic teen with an attitude problem?

6. The Latin classmate

I'm not done hating on Hannah, but this guy got me raging almost as much as she did. Everything from his crappy personality to his outfit was just terrible, but the real mystery is what he even had to do with Hannah, and why the fuck does he pretend to be all wise and mighty? First of all, if he was that wise, he would have stopped dressing like Danny Zuko.

Also, let me get this straight: Hannah kills herself because in the end she has no friends, yet she entrusted this guy to see her tapes through till they reached the 13th person? Ahem, is this a plothole or just plain stupid writing? I wanted to vomit every time Pedro - whatever, I'm Mexican - would show up just to act all shady and remind pretty much everyone around - mainly Clay, Clay, Clay, and Clay - that they had all killed Hannah.

Hoe, no. Someone friendly enough to give her a ride home when she was pissed drunk didn't kill her, she killed herself. Well, rather the razor blades that she stole from her bankrupt parents' pharmacy did, but those are just details. Also, if Carlos - whatever, I'm Mexican - was such a good friend and concerned about everything that had happened to her, he wouldn't be dropping cryptic af messages, he would have taken the tapes to the police and let them deal with the jock. But no, of course he didn't do that because that would have required a writer to stop mixing vodka and Xanax and realize the show they were producing. No, instead he took the least sporty-looking character rock climbing because that's just how he rolls.

7. Clay

So the guy went from being the wallflower to taking justice into his own hands? What's his name again? Batman? I still don't understand how he's supposed to be all smart and yet not once, not even for a single second, does he stop and think that maybe, just maybe it's better to tell his parents, or any other grown up in fact, about what's happening and about how every other person wants to axe him. Like, I get it, you're angry, you're hurting, but you know what hurts more? That gap on your forehead, you know, the one you got after a car hit you?

Like, didn't anyone notice it? Am I the only one who can see it? Cos, girl, it's so big it makes the gender gap in the workplace look narrower in comparison. Go get stitches, like, now.

8. Where the hell are all the parents?

Underage drinking, tattoos, drugs, reckless driving, guns, teens with huge af scars all over their faces, like, where the fuck are all the grown ups? Are you trying to tell me that not even one adult noticed any of this? For fuck's sake, Clay's scar is putrid and so is half his face now, he's dying of an untreated infection!

9. The fandom

I cannot even begin to explain how annoyed I am at the people who think this is an accurate reflection of the suffering that many of them have gone through. You're wrong, and I don't feel bad saying it. Hannah had multiple opportunities to save herself if she had not acted stupid, dared to speak, and or seek help. She had loving parents, a hot geek ready to jump her, and apparently she was the best of friends with Jorge - whatever, I'm Mexican. No, if she killed herself was because she was starving for attention. She wanted to guilt-trip everyone and make them feel as shitty as they had made her felt except, guess what? She's not there to witness it.

10. The message

That's my issue with this whole fucking series. It plays with the idea of suicide in an almost hedonistic way, it's almost as if they wanted us to picture Hannah Baker laughing in Heaven - or rather in Hell cos she killed herself, obvi - at the sight of all these people suffering over her death and feeling remorseful the actions that led to it. Let me tell you something: Unless you become Casper, you will not get to see this.

To everyone thinking that suicide is as glamorous as 13 Reasons Why made it seen, it's not. You die and that's it. Sure, there will be people devastated by it - your parents - but that's it. There will be no Juan - whatever, I'm Mexican - sending tapes on your behalf or Clay growing a vagina in the middle of his forehead during his quest to uncover the truth. You'll be gone and that will be it.

In conclusion, 13 Reasons Why is a steamy pile of trash from start to finish and was clearly targeting all the dumb af teens who also thought that The Fault in our Stars is the epitome of modern literature. It's pretentious, it's boring, it's full of plotholes, and it will make you rage from start to finish. Needless to say, this is my opinion and that's about it. If you don't like it, well... Welcome to your tape, bitch.