Summary: When you were maddeningly in love with your best friend/fuck buddy, bringing him as a date to a wedding was probably not the best idea.
Genre/Count: Smut & Fluff [ NC-17 ] | 11.7k words
Note: alkewrjaer so excited to finally post this after sitting in my drafts for years. meet m’boy fuccboi!hoseok.
It was never a good idea and you should’ve stopped it from the first time, or the first week, the first month, before it went too far. But you didn’t. You were sucked into his world and him into yours. Although your lives were entangled from the very beginning, it was never meant to go this far.
Hoseok pushed himself into you again, feeling the tightness wrapping snugly around him as he released a low groan of pleasure. “Fuck, you feel so good, always so good.” He buried his face in your neck as you twisted your fingers into the soft strands of his chocolate locks. He growled and thrusted into you over and over, bringing you to the edge. “Babe, shit. Goddamn, you’re so tight. Pussy always so good for me. Only for me.” He jerked his hips particularly hard, hitting that delicious spot inside of you. “Tell me.”
“Only for you,” you echoed in a gasp, head thrown back as your body arched off the bed. His mouth captured one of your peaks. The heat a contrast against the cool of his room. His abs, defined and beautiful, were layered by a sheen layer of sweat as he pounded into you. Moans tumbled from both your lips, swallowed by his mouth covering yours.
“So goddamn beautiful,” he muttered, nipping his way down your jaw and your neck. He knew you hated it when he marked you, hated it because everyone could see. What he didn’t know was that you mostly hated it because it made things more real than it actually was. A whine left your lips as he continued to print shades of blue onto the canvas of your skin. “I’m so close, babe, come with me.”
And you would. You always did, after all. Your fingers found purchase on his broad shoulders as he moved faster, pushing into you deeper and harder. The tension coiled in your stomach as the electricity coursed through your veins and straight to the space between your thighs, space filled by, and only by, Hoseok. The orgasm wracked shudders in your body as you let out a cry, the same time Hoseok groaned into your neck. Heavy breaths heaved your chest as Hoseok pulled out with a small grunt and slumped onto the space next to you.
The two of you laid in silence for a few minutes. The deafening emptiness drawing your fears forward. It always happened. No matter how many times you’ve been in bed with him, you’ve regretted every single one. The two of you were stuck in this limbo with too many questions and not a single answer.
I have the ikea website open in a tab and I’m determined to work as many swedish furniture names into this domestic argument as possible I can honestly see no way for this not to be the most hilarious thing ever
A/N: i wasn’t too sure about writing or posting this at first, but after thinking it over multiple times, i decided to just do it. thankyou so much to my baby @dylanobsessed for encouraging me that this was a good. i hope that by putting this out to you guys in such a way, will make you more aware of someone’s true intentions with you.
Parties had never been my thing. The idea of being almost suffocated by intoxicated bodies never really tickled my fancy. But, this was Lydia’s party and God knows she’d have my head on a stick if I didn’t attend. It was only an hour in, and I had already drunk more than intended.
You see, I hardly drink. Being seventeen and best friends with the “popular girl” would make you believe that I party and drink all the time. But I don’t. However, when I do occasionally drink, you’d think I was a forty year old alcoholic who’s husband and kids just left with his secretary.
I wasn’t planning on getting drunk this early on in the evening, but I suppose it was a pretty good job I did. I’ve been trapped in the backyard for almost forty minutes now, and I have no way of getting inside. Take the door, you may say. But, that is a little easier said than done. Mr. Theo Raeken is currently occupying the small space just by the back door, preventing anyone getting in or out.
If it was anyone else standing there, it wouldn’t be a problem. Unfortunately for me, Theo is that ex that ruined your life and you now can’t bare to be within a five mile radius of him.
The alcohol coursing through my veins managed to give me the confidence of walking past him once, but there’s no way I have it in me to pass him again. At least, not without another few drinks. I take in my surroundings, Mason hovering over the grass as he dangles his fingers down his throat in attempt to clear himself out as much as possible - I cringe at the sight - whilst others chitchat by the pool, their feet soaked as they sit at the edge.
The sky was dark as ever, the stars and moon illuminating down on us as the florescent lighting from Lydia’s kitchen pierced through the windows. It wasn’t until now that I realised my choice of revealing clothing probably wasn’t the best idea. My skin was riddled with goosebumps and I wanted nothing more that to cuddle into a blanket.
“Hey you.” A voice snaps me back to reality, as a large figure takes a seat on the brick wall beside me. I squint my eyes at them in attempt to suss out their features through the dark night, and I finally manage to see who it was. “Well hello, Stiles!” I beam happily, smiling drunkenly at the boy before me. He chuckles at my state wrapping my arm around my shoulder and shifting in his place.
I smile to myself, leaning my head on his shoulder and swigging the sweet substance in my cup. “You’re drinking for once?” Stiles laughs, poking the cup in my hands and I face him with furrowed eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask defensively. Did he think I was some good girl? I frown at the thought.
“Nothing babe, why are you freezing out here?” He asks, handing me his jacket which I gratefully accept. “There’s a snake blocking the door.” I grumble, covering my arms with the thin fabric and snuggling into it, inhaling his sweet scent that lingered onto the material. Stiles laughs at my comment, shaking his head and taking a swig of his beer.
We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, enjoying the stars above us and the occasional roars of laughter from inside. “Come on,” Stiles finally speaks, standing from his seat and holding his hands out to me. I furrow my eyebrows. “I’m gonna make sure you have a good time, even if that asshole is in there.” I smile up at him, taking his hands and he pulls me up.
Stiles wraps an arm around my shoulder as I wrap one around his waist for support. He pulls me inside and pushes past masses of people, his arms never leaving my shoulder. It’s a lot warmer inside and louder too. Music was blaring from all different areas of the house and cups and bottles were scattered everywhere. Lydia will not be pleased to clear this up.
I scan my eyes over the different groups of people talking and dancing, until I land on one familiar face. Theo stood by the door, beer in hand and a smirk on his face as he conversed with a group of boys and girls I had never seen in my life. He nods at something that was said before he scans his eyes over the room, landing on me almost immediately, and his smirk falters.
I look away quickly, tugging Stiles’ shirt slightly to gain his attention. “You alright?” I nod my head, gulping loudly as I feel Theo’s hard stare burning into the side of my face. “I wanna get a drink.” Stiles nods at me, saying goodbye to someone near us and leading me toward the fridge.
I spin around, falling out of Stiles’ grasp as a drunken Mason jumps toward me. Mason was a lightweight, two beers and he’s gone. He stops in front of me, eyes low but wide with excitement. His hair was messy, shirt spotted with wet patches from where he most probably spilt his drink from jumping around too much. He was like a kid on crack.
“Mas!” I giggled, hugging him tightly as he cradles my head and sways us side to side. “Sh, it’s okay. I got you.” He slurs, causing me to pout. “Is he staring?” My question was muffled by his shirt, but he still understood, nodding his head in confirmation. I sigh loudly and pull away from him, my shoulders now slumped.
“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks, handing me another drink and returning his arm around my shoulder. “Theo keeps staring at her and it’s creeping us all out.” Mason speaks for me, wobbling slightly then giggling, which only causes me to giggle quietly too. Stiles stares at us both with an amused smile, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind me and nuzzling his face into my neck.
I giggle at the gesture and spin around in his arms. wrapping mine around his neck and smiling up at him dizzily. “Wanna give Theo something to stare at?” Stiles asks huskily, a hesitant smirk on his lips which only catches my attention, causing an ache to pang between my legs.
I giggle seductively, carefully looking beside me to see Theo’s eyes boring into us, watching my every move. I smirk to myself before turning back to Stiles, staring at his lips before I reach onto my tiptoes and press my lips against his.
Stiles’ hands grab my cheeks, pulling me closer and kissing me harder. I groan against his lips, savouring the taste of sweet liquor that stained the flesh. My fingers tangle into his dark curls whilst his hands leave my face, travelling down my sides and grabbing a handful of my ass, eliciting a small moan from me that shoots from my mouth and into his.
His warm tongue licks through the seam of my lips, pushing them apart as his tongue danced against mine messily. I pull away slowly, breathing hitched with a smile on my face. I gulp away my nerves. “Is he still staring?” I ask in a shaky breath, the tip of my nose rubbing against Stiles’, our bodies still flushed against one another’s.
Stiles’ eyes trail over behind me, his smile only growing. “Oh, he’s gawking.” I snorted at his words, my body shaking with laughter, and I cling onto the back of Stiles’ shirt for support. “What do you say we get outta here?” He smirks down at me. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, staring up at him through my lashes before a smirk etches onto my lips.
I spin on my heels, hand wrapping around his and I push past multiple groups of people with Stiles waltzing behind me. My eyes meet Theo’s dark ones, and any other time, I’d be quick to look away, but instead, my gaze on him lingered, until I was out of sight and climbing up the stairs, swaying my hips more than usual - knowing Stiles would be watching my ass with his first class view.
Upstairs was a lot quieter, hardly anybody occupied the empty space, which made things a lot easier. Pulling Stiles down the longing hall with me, we finally reach Lydia’s spare bedroom and I slowly push the door open. The room was already dimly lit by the bedside lamp and moonlight that shone through the window.
In a matter of seconds, the door slammed closed and my back was pressed against it, arms pinned above my head and heavy breath fanning over my neck. I whimper at the feeling, a wetness already beginning to pool in my panties and I shift uncomfortably. “Stiles,” I pant, rubbing my thighs together in attempt to ease some of the pent up sexual frustration I had. Stiles noticed my slight movement, and jabs my legs apart with his knee, causing me to whine and him to chuckle at my vulnerable state.
“We’ve got all night baby, don’t rush.” He taunts, rubbing the tip of his nose against the skin of my neck and I audibly moan at the feeling of his hot breath against my skin. “But I don’t wanna wait.” I growl, a rush of confidence surging through me and I push him off me, watching as he stumbles back. His eyes darken in the moonlight, and I charge toward him.
Stiles crouches a little as I approach him and jump into his arms, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck as our lips battle in a messy fight, tongues clashing and teeth nibbling. He spins us around, throwing me onto the large bed and tearing his shirt off his body. I stare up at him adoringly, loving the way his muscles flexed with every movement he made.
I copy his actions, ridding myself from my flimsy shirt and throwing it across the room, my nipples instantly hardening as the cool air hits them. Stiles grunts at the sight, crawling between my legs and latching his lips onto one of my hardened nubs, whilst his fingers pinched the other.
I whine in response, the fire in my stomach only growing as my back arched from the mattress. My fingers tangle within his matted locks and I pull his face from my chest, our lips just centimeters away until I press mine against his. Stiles’ hands roam down the sides of my body until his fingers loop around into the waistband of my leggings and panties. I whimper with excitement, and he pinches the fabric between his fingers, tugging the materials down my legs.
Stiles slowly crawls down my body, lips messily cashing together as he tugs off his pants and boxers, throwing them across the dark room. He carefully aligns himself at my entrance, his tip pushing through my folds as the door swung open, sharp light invading the room as drunken cheers bounced off the walls. My body froze, Stiles jumping up from me and throwing the covers over us.
“What’s going on in here?” Mason giggles, a drunken Scott and Liam following after him. “We.. were about to… take a nap.” Stiles lies, his voice squeaking slightly. I furrow my eyebrows at Scott and Liam as the begin to clamber toward the bed Stiles and I were currently naked under. “How are we gonna get away with this?” I whisper to him, curling into his side.
Scott and Liam climb into the bed with us, their legs squashing our bodies together as our toes were all in each other’s faces. My breathing quickens at the thought of someone moving the bed covered exposing our naked bodies. However my breathing immediately stops when I feel a warm hand roaming the inside of my thighs.
My eyes widen, stomach dropping and I clamp my mouth shut to conceal an oncoming moan. I turn to Stiles with a worried expression, my arousal heightening at the smirk that sat upon his lips. I clamp my thighs around his hand, causing it to move further up until it was cupping my soaked heat.
Stiles nuzzles his head in my neck, flattening his tongue against the skin and licking his way up to my ear. I release a shaky breath, clamping my bottom lip between my teeth as his hot breath ghosts over my ear. “Open your legs.” My body obeys before I could even process his raspy words, his fingers making quick work of spreading my folds and swiping his finger up my slick entrance.
“Fuck. You’re drenched baby. I just wanna taste you so bad.” I whimper at his filthy words, covering it immediately with a strangled cough, which neither Liam nor Scott seem to notice as they continue with their conversation. Stiles slowly dips his middle finger into me, curling against my walls and my back arches from the mattress at the insane amount of pleasure he was somehow conflicting on me with just one finger.
God knows what that tongue could do.
My hand travels beneath the sheets, roaming around our bodies until my hand wraps around his fully erect cock, my eyes widening once again at the feeling of his size. He hisses at the feeling, earning Scott’s attention which he quickly avoids by rubbing his forehead with his spare hand. Scott simply nods his head, understanding that Stiles had an apparent headache, then continued to converse with Liam.
Stiles picks up his pace, pumping his finger in and out of me, curling against my walls and rubbing tight circles on my clit with his thumb. His whole hand was soaked with my arousal and he only just started. I cleared my throat to disguise my strangled moans and ran my thumb across his throbbing tip; smearing the already present precum before sliding my warm hand down his shaft.
His face buried into the crook of my neck, his lips attaching to the skin and surely sucking a purple bruise that’ll be no fun hiding in a few days. I purse my lips together, eyebrows furrowing and eyes squinting as my the back of my head presses hard against the pillow, my toes curling at the sudden intensity of pleasure I was receiving.
My grip on his cock released as Stiles’ finger curled against my g-spot, my whole body breaking into a hot sweat. My hand wrapped around his wrist, squeezing tightly to tell him I was close, but he had no mercy and continued his relentless assault.
My body was on fire and my mind felt like it was about to explode at any second. The knot in my lower abdomen only grew tighter and my walls clenched around his fingers. Stiles jolted up from his position, throwing his clammy hand over my parted lips to muffle any screams I was about to muster.
I met his dark eyes as his face hovered above me, my thought clamping together and my eyebrows furrowed. Stiles knew I was about to cum at any second, so he picked up his pace, curling harder inside of me and pumping faster. “Bite me.” He mouths to me, eyes wide and demanding, so I did exactly that; his dominant side only turning me on even more.
My back arched from the mattress, my vision fading and replaced with darkness as I came on his fingers, biting what probably felt like a hole in Stiles’ hand. My body shook, oversensitive from the insane amount of pleasure that coursed through my bones, and Stiles pulled out, bringing his drenched fingers to his lips and sucking them clean.
I could’ve easily came again at the sight, as my vision was finally restored. I sat up in my place, my chest heaving and I noticed two sleeping bodies by our feet and a passed out Mason on the floor. I turn back to Stiles, watching as he redressed himself and hands me back my clothing from the floor, that somehow went unnoticed by the intoxicated teenagers.
I quickly redressed in the bed; too afraid to leave in case one of them were to wake up and see my naked body. Once I had finished fixing myself, Stiles crawled back into the bed, throwing the covers back over us and pulling me into his chest.
He presses a light kiss to my forehead, stroking my hair as I stare at the darkness of his black shirt, wondering what the fuck just happened, and what will happen from here.
Summary- Reader is starting to hallucinate Lucifer, (basically like Sam) she keeps it a secret but her brothers find out.
Warnings- Swearing(I think idk).
A/N- It’s just something I thought of when I was watching reruns of SPN, I’m honestly really chuffed with it:)
Slowly opening your eyes you tensed up, somebody was in your room, you slowly reached your hand under your pillow and grasped the gun you had lying under it.
“I know you’re awake, Y/N” the voice spoke, “and a gun? Really? You think a gun would work on little old me? How adorable” he mocked. Rolling your eyes, you sat up and faced him with furrowed eyebrows, “who are you?” You asked quietly, he looked at you with fake hurt as he placed his hand over his heart, “you mean, Sammy hasn’t told you about me? I’m hurt” he spoke, then his eyes turned red causing you to shuffle back slightly.
It’s very tempting to ridicule and insult disappointed Trump voters who are now feeling angry and betrayed – I feel no sympathy for them; they earned every miserable microsecond of their disillusioned wake-up call – but it’s far more useful to court their support, if possible, or at least to redirect and channel their frustration. Their anger could be used to fuel multi-partisan opposition to Trump. Most Republican elected officials are going to collaborate with every step of Trump’s neo-fascist march toward authoritarian rule. They need to be opposed by their own loyal voting base, if they are to change their tune before it’s too late.
Disaffected Trump voters might be weaponized to great effect, if we are willing to swallow our pride and put in the effort.
I’m working on these at a snail’s pace. Anyways I hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing it. Here’s #78: “That’s my shirt. So is that…wait?”
Stiles was the best.
Of course that was subject to opinion, but to him he was the freaking best. Ten out of ten the best friend, the best son, and especially the best boyfriend. Oh yeah that was also a thing too; he was the boyfriend of Derek Hale. The Adonis-like body, the chiseled cheeks graced with perfectly trimmed stubble, the incredibly smart and closeted jokester/nerd, the Derek Hale.
So when Stiles says he’s the best it’s because he didn’t tell Derek he was coming home from George Washington a few days earlier than planned. Oh yeah, surprise visit, probably the best idea since the whole panties thing they discovered…but that’s a story for another time.
This is how he found himself creeping up the stairs to their apartment after the longest three and a half hour drive from DC to New York ever. Even his constant music and finger drumming couldn’t distract him long enough to keep his mind off the time. It’s late; which is probably for the best since the more tired Derek was the less he used his senses, plus New York was naturally loud so the chance of blowing this too early was slim.
The chance of other forms of blowing were pretty high.
Stiles grabbed his keys, sliding them in the lock of their door as quietly as possible. The grinding of the key sliding through its riveted slot was loud and he almost wanted to scream in frustration but that would definitely give him away. Instead he huffed quietly and shoved the door open, toeing off his shoes on the mat before shuffling through the entrance to the open concept living area.
While there was no sign of Derek, the place was a mess. That was weird because Derek was such a neat freak; however blankets of all kinds were splayed about, the sink was piled with dishes, the stove top was full of crumbs…
The only thought running through Stiles’ mind was ‘what the everloving hell is going on?’.
He set his duffel bag on the couch as well as his computer bag, crossing the way to the small hallway that lead to the bedroom and bathroom. The door was cracked open slightly with soft yellow lighting pouring out. Stiles pushed the door open only to see the softest version of Derek he’s ever seen.
The socks on his feet are mismatched, he’s wearing the sweats with the holes in the legs and the sweater with the thumbholes, his hair all tousled and soft against his forehead. Stiles didn’t take out his phone despite the overwhelming urge to. This was an intimate moment and saving it on a camera felt wrong in a way.
Stiles walked over to the edge of the bed, his hand not even touching Derek before a strong grip wrapped around his wrist a tad too tight. Blue eyes flashed at him before fading quickly to reveal surprised green-ish ones.
Suddenly his world was flipped, his hip smashing painfully with another as he was pulled onto the bed. Strong arms wrapped around him and held him impossibly close, a face nuzzling into his neck and making him laugh. The stubble….well beard now, tickled the hell out of him.
A possessive growl –that went straight to his dick if Stiles was being honest– echoed through the room and against his skin.
“You’re back early,” Derek said after a moment.
Stiles pulled back a little, looking his boyfriend in the eyes, “I wanted to surprise you?”
Derek still looked taken back, his mouth parted with his teeth poking out a little. This warm, bubbly, fuzzy feeling rose in his chest and suddenly he couldn’t help but lean in and kiss that shock right off his boyfriend’s face. The slight chapped feeling of his lips juxtaposed the softness of Derek’s, their noses brushing against each other’s ever so lightly every now and then.
When they pulled back Stiles finally noticed Derek’s pillow.
“That’s my shirt,” he said blankly, sitting up a little to see it better, “so is that…wait? What?”
Derek’s face went up in flames, the tan skin suddenly dark with red flush. Stiles didn’t need the gift of lycanthropy to see the embarrassment roll off the older man in waves. Under and around Derek’s pillow was his old Beacon Hills high school hoodies, a few of his graphic tee shirts, and basically anything and everything Stiles wears often.
It clicked in his head then.
“You missed me,” Stiles deadpanned.
Derek frowned, “Stiles…what? Of course I did.”
“Well duh…I just…you went as far to be with my scent,” Stiles said, motioning to the pillow.
“I always want to be with you and your scent,” Derek said, holding Stiles closer.
A grin spread across his face, “well that’s reassuring. I’d be worried if you didn’t.”
Derek took that as a cue to nuzzle his face back into Stiles’ neck and chest, scenting him immediately. Stiles laughed softly, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend tightly, letting the wolf take what he needed.
“I’m glad to be home,” Stiles said after a while.
Derek paused, looking up, “…home?”
“Once again duh, you’re my home.”
If Stiles took an extra week off school…well it was worth it if he got to stay with Derek, his home.
“Are we s-supposed to be doing this?” Dan stuttered, letting Phil tug his shirt off over his head, tilting his head back to let Phil suck at his throat.
“Probably not.” Phil smirked, chuckling softly. “Do you care?”
This… probably wasn’t the best idea. Not the best lapse of judgement on his part. But he wanted him, so fucking bad. His mouth felt so good against his throat, his brain was going fuzzy.
‘Take control of me’, he thought. Take it, take all of me.
Phil could clearly read minds, because he had Dan turned in seconds, bent over his apartment kitchen counter. That was as far as they had gotten; embarrassing, Dan knew. But did he care? No, not really.
He especially didn’t care when Phil’s cold hands were tugging at his belt, dropping his jeans. Dan let out a small whimper at Phil’s fingers brushing his skin, and Phil slapped his ass.
“No whining, slut,” he growled, leaning forward so he could whisper against Dan’s ear, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging roughly. Dan moaned.
“S-Sorry, sir,” he choked, and Phil nodded in approval.
“Good boy. Now, are you gonna let me take care of you, sweetheart?”
Dan nodded quickly, incredibly turned on at this point. Because, fuck, how could you not be?
Dan took a shaky breath, feeling his arms being bent behind his back at an uncomfortable angle, and pinned there by Phil’s firm grip. Phil’s erection rubbed against his ass, and he gasped.
“Phil-” he breathed, pushing back, desperate for as much of the man as possible. Phil chuckled, kneading his ass with one hand, digging his nails in.
“Don’t be a needy whore, Dan. You know better than that.” He hummed, tugging down Dan’s boxers and leaning over to kiss the slightly red skin. “Want me to fuck you?” He laughed, like he already knew the answer. Of course he did.
“Yes,” Dan whined, shifting desperately. “Please, Phil, fuck me, fuck me so hard I can’t think, please-!”
Phil didn’t answer, but Dan felt the grip on his hands loosen, and a rustling. Before he could even think he felt something slick press against his entrance; Phil’s fingers.
He started with one, pushing it in slowly, making Dan whimper. He pumped it slowly, resting his other hand on Dan’s lower back, pinning his wrists.
Dan let out a soft gasp as Phil added another, twisting them. Phil smacked his ass again.
“You’re a loud one, aren’t you?” He mumbled. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it. But I have half a mind to gag you, your screams would sound so pretty muffled.”
Dan bit his lip to keep from moaning just from that, his eyes gently rolling back in his head. Fuck, that was so hot.
Phil’s fingers grazed his prostate, and Dan’s hips bucked forward automatically, and he whined loudly.
“Fuck, Phil, please,” he gasped.
He heard Phil chuckle breathily, scissoring his fingers for a second before pulling them out.
“Alright, baby,” he muttered, his voice low. “Whatever you need.”
Dan only had to wait a moment before Phil was pressing against him, pushing in.
Fucking hell, he was big.
“Fuck,” Dan moaned, stretching the word out. He instinctively tried to move his hands, but Phil tightened his grip.
He bottomed out seconds later, filling him up completely and holding still for a second. Dan squirmed, and Phil reached up to tangle his fingers in Dan’s hair, tugging. Slowly, he pulled most of the way out, pushing back in and drawing a loud noise out of Dan.
Dan was overwhelmed; completely hypnotized by the feeling of Phil’s cock pushing in and out of him, practically drooling.
Soon Phil was snapping his hips roughly, thrusting into him hard, making Dan scream. Every breath came with continuous moans, and Phil’s name, over and over again. He was fairly certain he had never been fucked like this before.
Dan came pretty quickly, probably quicker than he should have, but Phil kept fucking into him; chasing his own high. The feeling was overwhelming, and Dan’s noises got gradually louder and higher pitched as Phil overstimulated him.
Phil groaned, digging his nails into Dan’s hip. He pulled out finally, stroking himself so he could come over Dan’s lower back.
The first time Dan regretted it was the next day, right before the game.
That morning he had to change into a turtleneck, a black, wool one that was sure to be too hot, because he had forgotten about the hickeys.
They were everywhere. Even in places he didn’t even remember Phil’s mouth being.
But he truly started to regret it when he realized Phil was going to use this against him.
The game started pretty slow, and Phil’s team was ahead. Dan only glanced over at Phil, who was watching them intently, running his fingers through his messy hair.
Fuck, he was attractive.
But as he turned back to the game, he caught one of Phil’s players shoving the goalie. He blew his whistle, calling a foul.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Phil motioning him over. He quickly called a time out, jogging over.
“What’s up,” he muttered, and Phil smirked, leaning closer.
For a split second, Dan thought he was going to kiss him, but then he went to his ear instead.
Dan cursed his heart for beating faster.
“Dan, sweetheart,” Phil whispered, his voice sickly sweet, and Dan’s blood froze. “You know what I’ll do to you if I lose this game, right?”
Dan swallowed, pulling back slightly. “Is t-that a threat?”
A light smirk tugged at the corner of Phil’s mouth.
“Kind of,” he breathed. “But I think you like it anyways.”
“Excuse me?” Dan’s head was foggy. Christ, get it together, Howell.
“Dan, I swear to god, I’ll fuck you so hard you lose your voice from screaming my name.” Before Dan could react, Phil leaned even closer, his lips grazing Dan’s ear. “If I don’t win, I’ll make sure you can’t walk for weeks. Want you all bruised and pretty for me, fucking ruined.”
A shiver ran through Dan’s body, and he flinched. He could feel his pants tightening. Fuck, he didn’t want to go out there will a boner.
“And if I win?” Phil shrugged, stepping back casually. “Maybe we could get dinner or something, beautiful. Maybe I’ll let you ride me.”
Dan stared at him, gathering his thoughts and shaking off the arousal.
He called off the foul, despite several angry shouts from the crowd.
Phil did it three more times, every time his team fucked up. Dan was sweating, ruined by the end of the game.
Okay so I’ve been seeing a whole lot of screaming on my dash about Hamilton and his opinions/thoughts on slavery. In the name of making sure everyone is properly educated in their screaming, I’m going to try and dispel some of the myths surrounding this topic.
First, let’s get one thing straight: Hamilton was NOT an abolitionist. I don’t care how you look at it, he simply was not. He made deals involving slaves, he married one of the largest slave holding families in New York, and he was obsessed with raising his station in society, which meant, you guessed it, owning/renting slaves.
Many biographers, including Chernow, cite Hamilton’s impoverished childhood in the Caribbean as the basis for his supposed abolitionist tendencies. There are a number of problems with this theory. After his mother died, Hamilton and his brother James found themselves the owners of a few household slaves, but due to legal inheritance laws, they could not technically own them. The fact still remains, his family, however poor they were, they still had slaves in the house, showing that even poor whites had social and legal status above slaves. When Hamilton was working in the trading company, while he may have become disillusioned with the idea of slavery, he most likely supported the institution, simply because it was his livelihood. If he spoke out against it in any way, he could have lost his position in the company.
After Hamilton came to America and joined the war effort, he and John Laurens both supported Laurens’ idea for an all black army regiment, which is another point that biographers often use to support “Hamilton was an abolitionist”. This brings up a key point of this argument: whatever Hamilton thought of slavery, his decisions involving such were often politically motivated, not personally. He probably supported the idea of the black regiment because it was the best for America, not because he exactly wanted the slaves free. Another problem is that, according to Henry Laurens, John wouldn’t forcibly make anyone free their slaves because he believed too much in the property rights in the colonies, which also speaks more to political motivations than to personal ones. As Alexander and John were very close, it can be assumed that they shared very similar views.
Hamilton married Eliza Schuyler, a member of one of the most wealthy northern slaveholding families. Their marriage is somewhat romanticized in the musical; Hamilton most likely married Eliza as a way to move up on the social ladder, not for love. If someone was opposed to slavery as much as Hamilton is usually portrayed, he would have had serious qualms about marrying into a slave family. While it is disputed if the Hamiltons ever actually owned slaves, often, he made deals for his in-laws involving slaves, including some for Angelica and her husband, and also made slave purchases for the Continental Army. Another factor in his complacency in a slave economy was most likely his close relationship with George Washington, the owner of one of the largest plantations in the south.
After the war, Hamilton was a member and founder of the Society for the Promotion of the Manumission of Slaves in New York although society records don’t show much direct involvement in proposing anti-slavery legislation, or, indeed, much involvement at all. The society did not interfere with property rights, however, as members could still own slaves. Remember, slaves were considered property in 18th century America. As you’ll recall, Hamilton was a staunch supporter of property rights. Another probable reason for his membership in the society was the fact that it brought him close to the upper echelons of New York society. The Marquis de Lafayette praised Hamilton for his involvement in the society, but Lafayette had his own set of issues involving slavery.
Like James Madison, Hamilton supported the 3/5ths compromise in the Constitution, which allowed the southern states to count a certain fraction of their substantial slave population for their representation in the House. This compromise managed to keep the southern states in power until the Civil War. Hamilton was an elitist, thinking that the more property one owned meant their vote should count more. Because he wanted a strong national economy, Hamilton knew it was a necessary compromise in order to appease the south and get them to participate in the economy.
In the peace treaty at the end of the revolutionary war, Hamilton supported compensating the slave owners whose slaves had run behind British lines, proving, once again, his opinion on property rights outweighed whatever he thought of the institution of slavery as a whole. When the Haitian Revolution broke out in 1791, he supported the French government in lieu of the new one, but as Toussaint L'Ouverture’s government grew in power and control, he supported continued trade, so long as L'Ouverture could guarantee the safety of US property and assets.
Hamilton, as far as I know, never wrote specifically about his ideals on slavery. If he did refer to it, he was usually talking about a transaction that he carried out for someone else. His membership in the manumission society was mostly symbolic. Mostly, he was there to interact with high society. Whatever he truly thought about slavery, we’ll never know. He simply chose the stance that would most benefit him or the country, straddling the line between abolitionists and slaveholders.
Biographers often overstate Hamilton’s membership in the Manumission Society, saying that indicates staunch abolitionist tendencies, which is an exaggeration. It is important to remember when reading any biography, it will be biased in the direction of the subject. Sure, it may list faults, but it usually will not go into too much detail. In order to get a full picture of anything, look at multiple sources from opposing sides, or from sources not focused on one individual. Be educated in any argument you are involved in. It makes for a lot better a conversation.