#something something demasculating??

[fantasticgothicpeachsludge]

Something something Agent Haldwell being from Jennifer’s movie something something probably her love interest something something they probably had weird “you’re coming with me little missy” kind of banter written by weird male writers something something Jennifer changing the misogynistic script something something drowning him in his own piss

[little-emerald-snake]

Smutmas Day 17

“You’re so beautiful spread out like this for me.” - Ominis Gaunt X F!MC

🔥 NSFW 🔞 MDNI

542 words

Warnings: descriptions of male body hair, teasing, oral m receiving

Ominis groaned as her fingers splayed over his belly teasingly. His shirt was open down the middle, still over his arms and caught underneath him. His trousers were undone but his cock was still painfully tucked away in his underwear.

She hummed softly in appreciation as she slid her palm up his chest and back down to his stomach, appreciating the softness of his skin and the lithe muscle she could feel underneath.

She swirled her finger in the light blonde body hair that trailed delicately from under his navel to the band of his underwear, appreciating how it looked and felt on him.

Ominis groaned, teased by her fingers and embarrassed that she found pleasure in something as subtle as the natural spots where his body hair grew.

He’d always kept his body hair to minimal or none at all but after her practically begging him to keep it. Finally they agreed on him trimming the hair of his pubic area but she convinced him to keep his happy trail natural.

He huffed as she tugged his pants down a bit more, finally freeing his leaking erection. She hummed in satisfaction seeing his cock bob above his stomach, nearly standing upright. “Mmm, I like seeing what I do to you.”

He blushed a beautiful shade of pink as she leaned down to swipe the flat of her tongue against his tip. A groan slid from his lips as his hips lifted ever so slightly from the bed. “Ah, don’t tease me.”

She hummed in satisfaction, licking from the base all the way to the tip of his shaft as she rid him of his pants. He let his legs fall open, hands coming to fist in the sheets below him.

She looked up at him through her lashes to see his bliss stricken face as she took him fully in her mouth, bobbing her head in his lap. His heels dug into the mattress as his hips lifted again, chasing the warmth of her mouth.

She pulled off of his cock with a smirk, admiring him splayed out. The light pink tinge to his brilliantly alabaster skin as she riled him up really did things to her. “You're so beautiful, spread out for me like this.”

He groaned, shaking his head back and forth quickly. “Please don’t call me beautiful. It feels demasculating while you’re on top like this.”

She leaned down and licked the crevice between his heavy sack and his sensitive thigh, appreciating the heady taste on her tongue. “You are tough though. A beautiful man with a body that looks as if it’s made of porcelain but underneath your muscles flex and strain when I tease you, meaning you're so strong you could hold me down and put me in my place if you truly wanted.”

His cheeks darkened even more, but she didn’t stop running her fingers over his stomach. “You’re playing with fire right now. Suck my cock and stop teasing me with silly words.”

She smiled, getting back to work bobbing her head in his lap till his hand wound itself in her hair and he cried out from a massive orgasm under her ministrations.

[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part Three

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 410 ~ Jake

Her eyes drifted up from the board. An air of concentration furrowed between her brows and the tip of her tongue which sat delicately at the edge of her teeth.

"Check mate!" She announced, knocking my piece off the board with a look of devilish satisfaction.

"Beginners luck." I replied, sending a hand to my ribcage to rub an ache I suspected would always trouble me from now on.

The snow had fallen in earnest. A blanket of dazzling white covered the ground, powdered flakes falling off the canopy of trees around us made for a spectacle when the sun peeked out from behind clouds. It was the first real beauty I'd taken note of in what felt like a very long time.

"And what if I told you that I was a secret master? That I'd been dumbing down my abilities all this time just so that I didn't demasculate you over a game of chess?" She gloated, raising an eyebrow as she waited for me to make my next move.

She reminded me of a sunset. With a touch of copper in her hair and those damned freckles on her nose. She had all the hope of a beautiful end and that it would bring something as equally beautiful in the morning.

"I didn't have you down as a liar." I replied, scanning the board for something that would knock her off her winning streak.

She folded her hands beneath her chin and leaned her elbows onto the edge of the kitchen table. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Jake."

I didn't doubt that. But I was sincerely grateful for the things which I had learned over the past few days. She'd carefully guided me around the entire place, shown me how everything worked and where the source of all the power came from. How to maintain all the power sources and what to do in the event of any of them breaking down.

There was a bank of solar panels on the cabin roof, flanked by a couple of small turbines. They were hooked up to a battery which powered the entire place. There was a small out house around the back, a few old generators were sat in there gathering dust in case of an emergency but she assured me the solar and wind provided more than enough for the entire place to run off for another decade.

These were things that I felt as if I should've known. Things that felt fundamental to survival. As if somehow it'd been wrong to live in a house that was attached to a network that relied on manpower to keep going. The foolishness of it.

Even the polytunnels where the vegetables grew made me feel as if I'd been missing the point entirely every time I'd walked into a grocery store. There were chickens kept in a coop, and there were two horses in a small stable on the other side of the trees. Because, apparently, someday the fuel was going to turn bad. She talked at great length about how she had no idea how to get the horses to mate, in the event of their untimely deaths she didn't want be left without transportation.

These were things I hadn't considered. Things which made me feel a little stupid when she pointed them out to me. My eyes widening in slight horror at the sheer expanse of pickled foods and canned goods kept in what she liked to call the "store". It was a small shelter, dug into the ground and covered in mossy earth to the untrained eye. But inside there was every non perishable and medical supply you could think of. Put there by her Grandma, in the event of the government falling to into it's own pit of destruction, or so her Grandma explained it.

The stark realisation that my life had been filled with convenient privilege was not lost upon me. I watched her muck out the horses and feed the chickens, tend to her plants and make sure the store was stocked up making mental notes of each little thing she did. Hoping that when the time came, I'd be able to be of some use to her.

"I know you're not a chess master." I hummed, tipping over her Bishop with my Queen. "Check mate?"

She leaned back in defeat. Chewing on the inside of her cheek as she tried not to react. The board looked a little chaotic now, with pieces in places I had no idea what to do with. I had minimal knowledge of the game and I suspected she was trying in vain to keep it going.

"You're a dark horse." She ruminated, trying to step over the impasse we'd arrived at. "I can't imagine we'll complete this before sunrise."

What did it matter? Time was our greatest thief. And yet, it was slowly becoming our greatest asset. We had time to sit and play chess, time to sit and read. Time to take walks in the woodland and drive into the empty streets of Roanoke to go in search for supplies.

The world was gently eroding back to nature. Something I'd barely noticed over the passing of the last year. Maybe I'd been so hell bent on finding another living soul that I'd forgotten to take in what was around me. With Amelia, it was starting to feel like I had woken up from a deep and dreamless sleep.

I was about to consider my next move when she shoved the board aside.

"How about that whiskey?" She asked, a flash of mischief in her eyes that I'd never seen before. "You're done with your antibiotics now."

The wind howled outside. Another flurry of snow in the air. The animals were fed and watered. I felt a churn of something deep within, like the stirrings of Christmas morning as a child. Like everything was precisely as it should be.

Everything was ok.

"You might not like me when I'm drunk." I warned, allowing a hint of playfulness to slip out. "I have this terrible penchant for speaking in a British accent."

She grabbed a bottle of something dark from the cupboard beneath the sink. Hooking two small glasses between her fingers from the cupboard above.

"That's the alcohol influencing the broca's area of your brain." She explained, pouring out two generous shots. "The part which perceives speech is impended. Although the accent thing is weird, I'd quite like to hear it."

There was a little curl in her lip as she clinked her glass against mine.

"You're so smart." I told her, "You make me feel like I was just travelling towards a destination with my eyes closed."

Immediately she brushed a dismissive hand through the air. Curling up her legs to sit with them crossed in the little dining chair, nursing her glass as she watched the brown liquid roll around the crystal edges.

"I think we were both entirely different people before." She said warmly, "If we had known what was to come, would we have lived our lives any differently?"

I sank my drink and leaned my hand out for a refill. "My life wasn't ordinary, even back then."

There'd been so many reasons why we hadn't talked like this before. Her initial reluctance had taken time to thaw. The silence we'd become accustomed to seemed so much safer to dwell in.

I was starting to lose count of the days I'd been with her. I was entirely distracted with surviving and being of service to her. Getting myself well enough to pitch in and not be a burden. The way she had given me purpose again made me want to live in this empty world. It made me not want to be anywhere else, with anyone else.

"I guess we haven't really touched on that, yet." She replied sheepishly, almost as if she didn't want to go there. "It almost seems irrelevant, doesn't it?"

She sank back another shot. Wincing as the burn slid down the back of her throat. Her nose wrinkled, all those freckles converging. For a moment I could forget that once there'd been another woman in my life.

"We both lost people we loved." I countered, taking the bottle for myself and pouring my glass almost full. "It's not relevant now, but I still miss them. I don't know how to stop missing them."

She didn't say anything for what felt like too long a period of silence. Where usually it was solidly comfortable, I could feel her unease at the presence of the ghosts of those we loved. Their names on the tips of our tongues.

"I don't think we're meant to. I think we're meant to miss them for the rest of our lives. Maybe that's our cross to bear. For whatever this life now brings." She replied, our mutual sadness at that thought evident in the way her eyes glossed over.

I didn't want her to cry. I couldn't bear to see her cry. It made me want to throw all my resolve away and take her into my arms whether she would have me or push me away. It made me want to make a fool of myself.

"I don't think we should play chess anymore." I suggested, "It makes us melancholy."

I clocked the bottle and it was already half empty.

"I don't think it's the chess." She slurred a little, gesturing to the snowy expanse outside. "I don't think I've seen this much snow for this long in my life, ever."

I could feel the heat of the whiskey in my blood as I stood. Taking my time to stroll over to the kitchen window. Trying to make myself appear steadier than I felt.

"Maybe the climate is changing."

Her face remained still. It took me a moment to notice that she wasn't responding. When I chanced a glance over at her, she was chewing the inside of her cheek. Lost in a thought I couldn't follow her into.

"What is it?" I dared to ask.

"They won't be here to see it." She replied quietly, a solitary tear betraying her. "They won't be here to see any more sunrises. Or the way that grass is starting to grow in all the pot holes that were left. And they'll never see the snow on the ground again. I hope..."

She swallowed hard, taking the bottle and foregoing the glass entirely. Swigging it back, like she couldn't stand to measure it out anymore.

"What do you hope?" I asked.

There was a longing there in her face that wasn't there before. Subsequent tears spilling down her red cheeks. Her skin all blotchy from the drink and the roaring fire.

"Wherever they are..." She sobbed. "I hope there's snow."

If we didn't speak their names, how could we honour them? If I was doomed to spend the rest of my life missing them, their names would never be forgotten anyway. They deserved to be spoken. They deserved to be memorialised. If they were dead, we couldn't go to their graves and weep. If they were alive, there were no roads we could find that would lead us to them. Speaking of them was all we had.

"Josh loved snow." I offered, returning to the table as slowly as I could. "We used to get a lot of it in winter where we grew up. Our parents used to make us go out back and chop wood and we'd have these huge bonfires and burn all the crap we didn't need for next summer. When we got a little older, our little brother Sam would have to come with us and we'd make him do all the hard labour. And he'd stand there and complain that it wasn't fair and we'd spin him a yarn about how he used to get to sit in the house all nice and warm while we did it and he wasn't a baby any more. Our sister never had to it, though. Her name was Veronica. She would sometimes come outside and hang out with us, though. She was cool like that."

I hadn't said their names in so long it was like resurrecting them. When I looked up from my faraway gaze, she wasn't crying anymore. There was this look of inherent surprise. Like she hadn't expected me to offload a childhood memory so freely. I could see a glimmer of hope where the tears had once been.

"Josh was your brother?" She ventured.

"Twin." I nodded, "He and I were the eldest. Then Veronica. Then little Sammy."

I probably shouldn't have, but I let her slide the bottle over towards me. Enough left for one more sip. I could feel myself on the fringes of being drunk, I knew one more would tip me over the edge.

"I had two brothers." She sniffed, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her t-shirt. "I was the middle child. My older brother, Deacon, he was like eight years older than me. I'm not sure my parents planned on having more than one but I guess nothing really goes to plan in life, does it? My little brother, Charlie, he was only two years younger."

Charlie. The little toy chest in my room still had his name carved in it. For her, they weren't just names to be said in remembrance. They were real, solid echoes still bouncing off these walls. I felt this uncontrollable need to close the distance between us. To hold her like I had when she'd screamed in the night.

"It didn't stop us from fighting, though." Her eyes lit up. "Deacon would always have to be the voice of reason, but every now and then he would come down to our level and bicker with us about something until our Dad had to step in. Our Mom was always a little more laid back, I think it was because she was raised here at the cabin. My Dad grew up in Silicon Valley. He had vacations in Europe and country club memberships. My Mom had yearly road trips to Virginia beach in a beaten up Volkswagen my Grandpa drove into the ground. Deacon was the first person in her family to graduate college."

And just like that, the fire went out again.

"So your Dad was rich?" I poked at the embers, hoping to see the spark in her come back.

She shrugged. "His family were. All surgeons and lawyers and ceo's. I think he probably would've lived that textbook rich white guy life if he hadn't met my Mom. She kept him grounded. We were never allowed to exploit our wealth, we had to do volunteer work and give generously to charities. We had to go to college and get our own jobs and careers, there were no hand outs. But I guess you could say we were privileged. But never spoiled. Not when we used to spend summers here, with our Grandparents."

I could have listened to her all night. "What was that like?"

She uncrossed her legs and inspected the empty bottle. Her eyes were half closed, lids fluttering up and down slowly in a drunken haze.

"It was like fucking Disneyland." She smiled, then. "My friends all went off to ski in Aspen or whatever. We got sent here to hunt squirrels with my Grandpa and bake pies with my Grandma. And toast marshmallows on the fire every night. They'd let us go swimming in the lake until sunset, taught us everything we needed to know about living in the woods. And every time we had to go back to California, it always felt like I was stepping back into something I didn't really feel a part of."

She looked up at me from her inspection of the empty bottle. As if she'd forgotten that I was sat there at all.

"What was your life like?" She asked, scuttering off to the cupboard under the sink, falling almost as she slinked off the edge of her chair.

She waved a bottle of red wine at me, her lips flattening into a straight line as she settled on the floor.

"We don't have any wine glasses." She said flatly, "Can't drink wine without a wine glass."

I would have gone to her and picked her up off the ground. Helped her back to her seat, made her laugh if I could. Let her fall asleep on the couch in a delicious drunken heap, wrapped in the blankets she'd left me in when she'd saved my life. But she stumbled to her feet, giggling softly as she realised how quickly the whiskey had gone to her head.

"You need some help, there?" I asked, reaching out my hand for her to take.

"No, I'm good." She lied, "You just tell me your life story while I pour."

She filled our little crystal glasses to the brim, taking care to leave enough space at the top to allow for spillages. All regard for needing a wine glass dissipated.

"I was just a boy with a guitar from Michigan."

She stared at me with those hooded lids. Keeping her drink propped against her mouth, like I was weaving the most interesting tale she'd ever heard.

"Where's your guitar now?"

I hadn't anticipated how much that question would sting. I knew she noticed the way I backed away from it. She reached over the table and placed her palm on my forearm. Her thumb making soft movements against the scar which ran down the centre of my flesh.

"No...not without Josh..." I stammered, "I can't play..."

There was a real sympathy in the way her brows knitted together, squeezing my arm a little in silent comfort. She stayed like that, touching me innocently, as I tried to compel myself to bring together the story of my life. It felt like I was entirely detached from all of my memories somehow. As if recalling it from something I'd watched rather than experienced first hand. Like a fever dream.

One thing I knew for certain. One thing that struck me as the alcohol coursed through my veins. It didn't matter how many thousands of people I had played to. It did matter how many awards I'd won. None of it mattered a damn thing without my brothers. And I'd sworn never to play without them again.

Day 413 ~ Amelia

The rain began that night. Lashing against my bedroom window, forcing the snow to retreat. A part of me was relieved. That the snow would wash away and all the earth beneath it would be able to breathe again. Bringing a renewed hope for the coming spring. But it kept me awake. The deafening pitter patter against the old glass felt as if it was break at any moment. The rattle of the wind like ghosts through the cracks in the old wood.

Jake had been a formidable drinking partner. My head still aching somewhat from a hangover that had lasted three days. I bore no regret from it, though. The whiskey and wine had afforded me a courage I couldn't have found on my own. And the nightmares had been kept at bay too. Sleeping far too deep for any of those demons to penetrate.

My mouth was dry. Frustrated by the noise and the insomnia and the lingering consequences of my booziness I crawled out of bed and slipped into my robe. On soft tiptoes I crept out into the hallway, certain that the wind and rain would shroud my movements. But staying quiet just in case.

Down the hall Jake's bedroom door was ajar. A shard of low, golden light striking the hall in half. I'd expected him to be asleep, coming to know his sleeping habits in the days he'd been here. He was a night owl, often hearing him slip into bed hours after I'd retired. It was almost dawn, but still pitch enough that it felt like the dead of night.

It was in my mind to go downstairs and fetch a glass of water, to mind my business and leave him be. But the soft whimpers that cried out above the din of the wind called out to me. And I crept on silent feet down the hall, moving against all the intricacies of the floor boards I knew would creak and alert him to my presence.

It sounded like he was in pain. The way he'd recovered so quickly had been unusual, part of me had wondered if he'd tried to save face. If, when in private, he'd allowed himself moments to feel the pain of his healing injuries where I couldn't see him. But it wasn't pain.

It was pleasure.

I stood in the crack of his door. Sinful sounds coming from the bed. A rush of blood to my head made me weak at the knees. His hand was moving vigorously beneath the bed sheet. The sound of his voice, like that of a man who had known truly how to love a woman.

I closed my eyes and began to imagine hearing those melodic moans above me. A reminder that I'd long forgotten what it felt like to simply be a woman. In survival mode, there was no allowances for arousal. It had been gone from me, the desire to even touch myself. Every night I'd laid my head down and tried to rest until the sun came up. Never allowing myself to fall into that trap of desire. I was forever alone. There was nothing but grief each time my hand had travelled across my breasts. So I'd abandoned it. All hope that I'd ever feel want again.

Despite my eagerness to uphold his dignity, I couldn't find it within myself to move. Even when he grew too heated under the covers, kicking off his blanket to reveal the line of his body. I held my breath. Took note of the way his chest moved as he breathed harder, his stomach rising and falling. And the way he wrapped his hand around himself. Making gentle strokes that pulled on his shaft, revealing the flex of the muscles in his forearm.

I had no right to see this. I was the worst sort of voyeur. The sort that never made their presence known. If he had known would he have been angry? Humiliated? I couldn't tear my eyes from him. It was wrong, and it troubled me. The way I stood there and allowed the sight to make my core begin to throb. A heavy beat making me wet and swollen.

I stood there until he came into his palm. An agonizing groan signalling the end of his endurance. I watched the white, sticky mess spurt from his tip and spill down his fist. My hand pressed against my mound, not daring to trespass further. Not even underneath the fabric of my pyjama shorts. I was quietly hyperventilating, almost light headed from it as I watched him drag a hand towel down his softening cock and the back of his hand.

And just like that, he flicked off the lamp at his bed side and plunged the room into darkness. And I felt my own shame begin to rise in my cheeks as I stood there peering into the pitch black. Allowing the thunder which gathered overhead to shroud my footsteps as I retreated back up the hall way.

It was still raining when the sun came up. It drenched the daylight in a darkening grey and it didn't really feel as if the sun had come up at all. I busied myself with throwing down some chicken feed into the coop and gathering up some of the eggs which had been laid. I mucked out the horses and let them roam a little while I put down fresh bedding. Trying to keep my mind from returning to the thing I had done that morning.

He was a man who had been alone as long as I had. Clearly with a thirst which begged to be quenched. I was throwing down the bedding far more aggressively than I ever had before, torturing myself with thoughts that were unwelcome.

I didn't want him to kiss me, but why hadn't he tried? I didn't want him to fuck me, but why hadn't he tried? Why hadn't he even hinted at it? Or was his own hand a more preferable means to an end? Did he find me unattractive? Did I find him unattractive?

I cursed him as I shovelled the last of the bedding in, throwing my spade down as it clanged against the stable door. I hated myself for thinking such despicable things. All we had to do was survive. Nothing more. What did it matter if he satisfied himself behind a door I wasn't meant to be standing behind?

"There you are."

I spun on my heels. His hair was dripping, his shirt so wet that I could see right through it. A curious look on his face, like he'd been searching everywhere for me.

"Oh, hey." I replied, as nonchalantly as I could.

He looked into the clearing at the horses milling about, with no regard for the rain. They seemed to be enjoying being out of their confined space. And by all accounts, so did he.

"I woke up and you weren't there." He said, rain dripping off the tip of his nose.

"Yeah, I had stuff to do." I had already done it all, but I tried to make it appear as if I was still busy.

He watched me for a moment, his hair sticking to his collar bone and that stomach of his concaving as he breathed against the drenched shirt.

"Is it terrible that I didn't like it?" He asked, "I've grown fond of seeing you there drinking coffee at the kitchen table every morning."

How had I let this happen? This thing I swore I'd never let happen? How had he become so necessary to me and I to him? When he couldn't even bring himself to kiss me? Was it nothing more than a platonic fondness borne of this unwanted necessity? Was I a replacement for his mother or his sister?

"I've got shit to do, Jake. I'm sorry." I dismissed him, passing him as coldly as I could to fetch the horses in.

He would wonder why my temperature towards him had dropped. But I couldn't help it. I wanted to rid myself of this gnawing churn in my stomach that was forming each and every time I looked at him. Least of all now, when I knew the curve and shape of his cock and how he liked to stroke it so perfectly gently and firmly.

"Amelia..."

He would have one kind word from me.

"Jake, I don't have time for this nonsense." I spat, leading the other horse into shelter. "We're running low on fire wood and I need to do a supply run for toilet paper. There's two of us here now, you understand?"

I'd been initially standoffish and he could forgive me for that. We didn't know each other or our intentions. But it was clear I'd let my guard down somewhat, and I knew the way I spoke to him was a bolt from the blue. He couldn't understand my switch.

"You know I'll do anything to help." He said so apologetically my heart almost broke in two. "I can do more, now. I'm starting to feel stronger every day. And I promise... soon you won't have to do all this stuff on your own. I'll pull my weight. I'm sorry..."

I couldn't bear it. The way he looked at me. A solemn pleading in his eyes as I latched the stable door shut and we stood in the pouring rain staring each other down like a duel at high noon. The rain hit the canopy above so hard it sounded like static when the tv didn't have any signal.

"Why are you staying here, Jake?" I demanded, raising my voice above the crescendo of rain. "What is it for? Are you afraid to be alone again, is that it?"

He blinked at me. Water rushing so hard it even poured off his eyelashes. Torrential and hard, we stood there like statues letting it shower over us like it wasn't even there.

"Of course I'm afraid to be alone again, aren't you?!" He snapped back, drinking rain as he spoke. "But that doesn't mean I'd rather be with anyone else?! I don't want to go back out there and carry on looking, I've found what I was searching for! Don't you get that?!"

Someone to take the edge off his solitude. Nothing more and nothing less. And why should I be anything more to him? I didn't want him crawling under my skin any more than he already had. We would ride out this error in humanity's timeline. Help each other to survive. That was it.

"I don't know." I confessed, " I was fine before. I was doing just fine! And then you came along, literally crashed into my life! Like I needed the distraction? The pull on my resources?!"

I didn't mean it. I could feel myself filled with regret even as the words came out. He was shaking his head, his hair so wet it barely moved. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed deeper somehow. And I knew that I'd hurt him by the way he couldn't seem to get his words out. He could only look at me and feel the knife in his back that I put there despite standing right in front of him.

"If you want me to leave I will leave."

And now because he wanted to. He would leave because I wanted him to. And now I wanted to scream at him and fall into his arms and throw away all my pretence and beg him to kiss me. Beg to know why he hadn't kissed me before. I hated feeling like this, I had never felt like this before. Not for a man, not for anyone. He stole all my resolve and I hated him for it. Hated myself for allowing him the strength to take it.

I could feel the sting of tears begin to spill over my lashes. The salty warmth of them in stark contrast to the cool rain.

"If you stay, you'll only grow to hate me." I sobbed, "You'll see that I'm not capable of letting you in."

"That's not true, Amelia." He replied, taking a bold step forward, reaching out for me before pulling back in case I rejected him. "I've seen your warmth and compassion. You're not cruel. I don't understand where all of this is coming from?"

I backed away. "I can't do this, Jake...I wont do this."

I retreated into the trees. Running through the mud and rain, letting it lash against the backs of my legs. I could scarcely see in front of my eyes, but I knew the way back blind. I could hear him calling out my name, unable to keep up with me. But he pursued me, regardless. With his healing bones, he ran behind me Begging me to stop.

"Amelia! Please!!!" He called, his voice fading out beneath the falling rain. "Stop! Please, don't do this!"

I reached the clearing at the front of the cabin. My body burning from the exertion and my breath caught in my lungs. Before I had chance to regain my composure, I felt his body against mine. Wet and solid. Heaving breaths as he spun me around, forcing me to look at him.

"Don't you run away from me like that again!"

He was furious. A rage the likes of which I'd never known could exist burning in the delicate tremble of his lip. I was too weak to protest.

"If you ever do that again I will always follow you, do you understand me?!" He shook me, hands wrapped around my shoulders as I gazed at the fire in his eyes. "I swear it, I'll follow you to the ends of the earth woman!!!"

Still, he wouldn't kiss me. Just let the rain fall upon us as he held me close. Breathing into my parted lips. Our shared breath turning to vapour in the freezing cold air.

"Because there's no one else to follow?" I said, my mouth desperately close to his.

"No." He replied harshly, turning his head to get a better look at me. "I had a girlfriend before all of this. We lived together in Nashville. She travelled with me when I had to go on tour. We were together for years. Maybe I would have married her, if I'd been given the chance."

"Why are you telling me this?!" I didn't want to hear it, I didn't want to hear about the way he had loved another.

"Because." He swallowed hard, "Even if she came back, even if she appeared to me right now like none of this had ever happened....I would still follow you."

I couldn't feel my fingers, or the tip of my nose. A flash of lightening streaked above, illuminating the darkness on the ground. For a moment his face lit up and I could see the conviction there.

He meant it.

But still, I wouldn't have it. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Oh, don't I?" He clenched his jaw. "You don't know a damn thing about what I know. You don't get to tell me how I feel. I might be afraid to be alone, but I'll do it if that's what you truly want. I'd leave just make you happy."

Nobody had ever held me like this. So securely. So aggressively soft. Like he could shake the life out of me if he so desired, but wouldn't.

"You wont even kiss me." I replied so pitifully, speaking so quietly a part of me hoped that he wouldn't hear me over the mounting thunder.

"And have you slap me across the face for taking such a thing?" He replied, almost laughing at me. "Would you have kissed me back if I had? I might not have kissed you yet, but I've imagined it. At night, when I know you're on the other side of that wall. And in the morning when you're sat at that table. I wanted to kiss you the other night when we got drunk and I could have used it as an excuse. Every time you wrinkle that nose and those freckles connect I want to kiss you. When you curl up by the fire to read, I want to kiss you. When I see you going out there to make sure the animals are safe, I want to kiss you. Ok?"

"Ok." I breathed, not an ounce of fight left in me.

He kissed me in the rain. In the storm that was brewing. His lips covered in raindrops and mine in tears. A kiss so desperate, so forcefully full of need I let him wrap his broken body around mine. I let him clutch me to him, whether it would hurt him or not. The heat of his tongue against mine was like the lightening had descended from the sky above and struck me where I stood. The gentle murmur of his whimpers in harmony with mine. I could feel his palm against my cheek, his thumb trespassing a slow stroke across it. I'd never been kissed like this before. Like I was in a black and white movie, my knee bent just a little to keep me from falling. He kissed me like he was starved. With gentle intention, but intensifying pressure as his tongue slipped further into my mouth. Until I was sucking on it, grappling at his shirt to tear it from his flesh.

"Fuck, ahhhh..." I stopped myself. "No, no... we can't..."

He was panting as he pulled away, his lips a little swollen from the pressure of being against mine.

"We don't have to, just don't push me away. Please? Don't do that... Sssshhh, come here..."

My eyes flitted over towards the store. Of all the medical supplies I'd sequestered, none of them included birth control. Something I never would have given any credence to before. But now I was dulled with the thought and the fear of him spilling inside me and putting a baby where there didn't need to be one. Not now.

"No, it's not that..." I clung to him. "I stopped taking my birth control. I didn't think I needed it..."

His face washed over with realisation. "Oh."

His smile was going to lead me down a murky path. I knew it. I would've died for the way he smiled at me in that moment. Like I was the sweetest thing alive.

"Not tonight, then." He whispered, his mouth moving against my ear. "Tonight, we can do other things."

.

.

.

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon @vikingisthenewsexy

[wherearethetacos]

Honestly, the Democratic Party have no one to blame, but themselves. They were stubborn from the very beginning, since the last election. They were not listening to the people. I commend Kamala for running a campaign in the short amount of time that she had, but man was it a cringy. Yes she had policy, but her entire campaign was that she wasn't Trump and that they weren't Republicans.

They were insulting people that were undecided, demasculating the men, and not hearing the voices of people fighting against genocide. They didn't do enough to celebrate the success of what Biden's presidency was able to accomplish and they sure as hell weren't able to solidify what they'd do differently. It was a moment of wanting you cake and eating it. You can't have it both was, especially when people are concerned with the economy and unfortunately everything did get worse during Biden's presidency, due to the previous president. Optics are everything, even though he did his best, but it wasn't enough and you needed to lean into that more.

Reproductive rights are important topics, but it wasn't the only issue. You had to encourage and tell people that the main focus will be on the economy, immigration, and genocide and that we will go in a more positive direction, not that "it's gonna be worse under Trump" as your platform.

While, I don't like Trump and totally did not vote for him, at least he was telling people that he would fix things and that he would listen. He's a total joke, but at least he knows how to rally people behind him without undermining the working class. Even for show, he did go "work" at a McDonald's and as a Garbage man, again optics are everything. What did Kamala do? Host a MTV concert, scold people for not wanting to vote for her, and party with elites.

The Democratic Party are just as much to blame for the situation that we are going to be in, in the coming 4years. Yes America can be racist and sexist, and that has something to do with why she lost, but ultimately her campaign was not very good at the end of the day. It didn't speak to the everyday person that's not in a liberal echochamber and chronically online.

Let's hope this time around Trump can do better, I'm hoping he can. I can't wish for the downfall of this country. People keep fighting the good fight and protect your fellow neighbors, if does go bad.

But this was a the kick in the mouth the Democratic Party needed. They need to focus on everyday people again and actually listen to the concerns of everyday people.

[starrybeach]

i hope its a normal guy experience, finding a dude cute til he misgenders u and then wanting to fight him to prove something. i think i just described every mans experience actually. demasculate me and i will masculate myself down ur throat

[lqfiles]

Seeing an anon say her ex had random beef with doyoung reminded me of how my ex had beef with S.coups from seventeen lol.

I think it started when I was watching a goose episode and I made a passing remark on how I liked how S.coups had this masculine energy to him ( he was just man spreading, girl please get a grip lmfao💀) .

But he got really pouty saying " you never think I'm hot for just existing" and I was just like HUH I'm with you not him? 😭😭

For dayssss and I dayssss we would be sitting together and he'd just randomly spread his legs and drape his arm around the back of my chair like he's asserting his dominance or something.

I would just touch his arm and fawn over him so he would stop pouting and I'm crying just remembering how smug he felt after asking things like " you really think so?" 😭 😭

i feel like such a relationship guru when you guys rant about your relationships like tell me more about these weird exes 👀 /j

BUT THIS IS SENDING ME SO BAD?/£:?:£ first off, you calling cheol so masculine over manspreading is so funny to me but at the same time it sounds like something i’d go crazy over too (i actually do.. whem haechan especially does it)

you being like ???? over him pouting is also sending me so badhsjdj but gag it because you’re with HIM why is he getting sulky over a small comment on a celebrity 😭😭 idk what other reassurance he needed to know that you think he’s attractive because if you didn’t think he was attractive you wouldn’t have dated him.. like 2 + 2 = fish????

ITS HIM MAN SPREADING AND ATTEMPTING TO LOOK MORE DOMINANT THATS GETTING MESJSJFHSHDJ NO WAY HES SERIOUS 😭😭 i’m just imaging you nodding at him like “oh yeah you’re soooo masculine dominant right now oh my goshhh” you’re so funny for that anon. the way this all stems from him feeling demasculated over Scoups is quite hilarious and a bit surreal like a bit of manspreading had him feeling like this.. i feel a bit bad but at the same time this is hilarious thank you for sharing this anon and hopefully you found someone who isn’t that easily jealous 😭

[callofdutylorist]

one thing i noticed abt CoD fandom (at least the toxic dudebros and homophobes) is how they tend to outright deny even things that are canon, like take for example zombies being connected to mw universe

and thats one portion, when developers themselves, activision employees actually support the whole "babygirlification" of ghost and fandom overall being creative with their works speaks volumes, like they're not walling anyone on how they wanna see these characters, meanwhile we have clowns acting like a literal police department when they see GhostSoap together and claim shit like "stop demasculizing men", as if being queer makes you less masculine? the stereotypes are just insane because funnily every time i see a Ghoap art neither of the characters are portrayed as submissive feminine? either way, just insane how these people behave and can't seem to let anyone have their own opinions. but for the sake of something good, im actually thrilled that actors and devs support fandom creativity! and if it's gonna make bigots even more mad then im all for it <3

It's sort of a running problem for fps communities, and is unfortunately not the first time I've seen it happen. (It's not even the worst I've recently experienced)

I will admit there is most definitely fan content demasculizing the characters, but it's not the common stuff for sure.

I'm always happy to see devs standing their ground on social issues and character decisions and not always backing down to the community. There's a fine line between listening to fans and folding to toxic communities. Unfortunately, it's gotten more difficult for devs and other people who work on games to find that line.

And no company is perfect, especially not the ones behind Call of Duty, cod truly has many things it needs to live up to

[khorneschosen]

For the first one you can and should say that you hate groomers and pedophiles that's just kind of non-negotiable.

If every time however you hear something must be done about the groomers and pedophiles in our education system your brain immediately jumps to people like me who are gay I'm going to have a couple of questions for you. Like why do you see us as a bunch of groomers and pedophiles when the biggest demographic that is actually abusing children in these schools are people of your ideological kind not the people who share my LGBT background. Which is why you do it under our name. Makes a nice little human shield for your bullshit.

But you don't get to talk after all this shit you talked about Zionist or Jewish people who live in Israel and how thin that line you made it is we don't use the New world order we talk about Soros and he's a singular fucking person we talk about him in the same way that you would talk about the Koch brothers. So not only is this you admitting you could not find evidence of a wide scale anti-Semitism on the right, But we now have proof that you guys are actually anti-Semitic because it took nothing for you guys to turn on them and become incredibly anti-Semitic and support people who support anti-semitic terrorist organizations.

Say what you will but your average Republican is not just chomping at the bit to start working with the aryan nation.

However when it came to Hamas all it took was one of the worst war crimes and loss of civilian human life this century in a few days for you guys do suddenly go "Well I guess I hate Jews now. "

I remember a bunch of white people who are engaged in rioting and looting. This too you do in black people's name despite the fact that a lot of the black community is telling you to stop doing this because you're making their community worse so that you can use them as a social battering ram against and your own terms capitalism You aren't actually interested in helping the black community otherwise you'd actually have a degree of humbleness when you listen to different black voices describe what they need in their own community I have. But you ignore them because they're not part of your community that being the left-wing community.

I've heard liberals I've heard conservatives I've heard libertarians who are all black gave it their take on what the black community needs and they typically fall pretty close aligned with each other and those are the things not practiced today.

So real talk do you actually care what black people have to say or do you just want to hear your own self being reflective back at you from a black face.

Yeah because they have broken the law in the first case and then the second case that's actually a very interesting case of context dropping almost on par with slander because you're quoting Trump when he was describing MS-13 a Latin gang who has done quite horrendous things as a method for the cartel.

If hemorrhoids you mean radical feminist yeah they deserve hatred your own community fucking hates them for being transphobic don't pretend like we are doing something wrong for being a bit displeased with them because they're also misandronistic. And ask for sluts I don't even see that as a major concern within the right party. Cuz if you're going to go with oh they don't like promiscuous sexuality it's usually the Christians and they say hate the sin not the sinner and they mean it. And not only that but they typically are the most benevolent towards women especially women on the right.

What you're describing are the kind of men who have just a vague idea of being right weighing because to be left-wing means to be demasculated.

Cancel culture is not Democratic I don't know where the fuck you get off on that oh an entire group of people decide to be outraged and they decided to destroy your rights wow I'm glad that's your view of democracy where necessarily the majority has the right to crush the minority.

See if a bunch of white people get together and decide to cancel all the black people in the country That's their right according to this That's sort of what you're saying This is you're saying not only is this this status good but it should be achieved fully. Which is something I would not say.

Hahaha and you hate the radical right only you think everything to the right of you is the radical right.

Again it would be nice if you would not accuse your us of your own sins that you are practicing even worse.

Darling I have listened to you for damn near a decade there has not been one period in that decade where you did not use dehumanizing language against your opposition or even fucking neutrals. And when you did come for us when you came for us and we had no power but to point to the law and are shared morality and say this is wrong You said nothing at all You didn't have to The culture did it for you. We would try to speak to you and we weren't talking to you we were talking to your ideology every fucking time because there wasn't a person left in you just someone hollowed out to make room for a dog shit ideology that has never brought anything but suffering to people. Go and fuck yourself.

Republicans deliberately use coded language to trick people to vote for them and radicalize their group. Many don't even realize they're radicalized or what they're saying is even racist. This is why they think the Left is "over reacting" because the either know they're using coded language and don't care, or they don't know anything at all.

[reservoirofknowledge]

I don't actually think anti-blackness is on par with misogyny as far as structures of society... Racism as an ideology is something the vast majority of society can move past. With misogyny there is the family which is obviously such an integral piece of society. Equal and egalitarian relationships are becoming much more common but the cultural default for sex and romance is a patriarchal relationship. The man leads. Masculinity = aggressive. Dont let men be demasculated. Get a man that lets you lean into your passive femininity.

Am I saying racism is not a problem? Of course I'm not. I think fear of the other is a huge thing and it especially expresses itself in anti-immigrant sentiments, particularly when those immigrants look ethnically different. And of course it doesn't undermine what Black Americans as an ethnic group experience today wrt disproportionate poverty especially in cities, because of racist policies that have since ended but began a few generations ago and obv the way more racist policies before that point. Equal opportunity isn't a reality and the class they are in due to historical racism deeply affects their lives. Majority minority neighborhoods exist as they do because of historical racism. But we've made a lot of progress against racism as an ideology (at least when it doesn't come to immigrants). And yes I realize the irony of saying this when the far right is being empowered to say shit about racial minorities is any higher position because "DEI" but in the general population it genuinely is falling just like misogyny has in a lot of areas. But most conservatives advocate colorblindness while also advocating for men to be masculine and women to be feminine. I'm just not sure the two subjects can be put in the same sentence because they're not the same type of issue.

[livingwithmx]

August 25, 2023

It's been 4 days since Kiki enlisted. The moment we waited for.

Besides Chaeturtle, he was my fav "brother"(to not fuck). If Won is away, I'd go to Kiki for advice. Very understanding uwu

Always serving good stuff. I used to call him a milf because fans thought he was the "mom"(lowkey demasculizing btw) of the group(and WooWoo is obviously the dad).

Remember when he ate with a pen

Let's hope when he returns his crypto better not be worth nothing. He's been doing it since like 2019 or something. The dude isn't spending on Dogecoin. He's getting into the real shit. You can see why Kyün gets annoyed about it(as soon as in that pido's show).

Also I was going to end with the pen video, but I ended talking about his crypto stuff. I exposed him as a crypto bro.

[samiyia]

I feel weird, sometimes I feel content but other times I feel like something is missing. I don’t know, I don’t feel entirely comfortable in my true form it’s like I want to be someone else. Especially with my masculine demeanor I don’t know how to “demasculate” myself I don’t know how to be that pretty feminine girl, I don’t know how to dress like one either or do makeup like one. It’s hard because I want male attention but I rarely get it tbh. It’s a once in a lifetime situation. Over the past only highschool years this has always been a thing I’d struggle with, sometimes I would give up and quit trying to worry about it but idk.

How do you feel about yourself?

[724fc]

that anon is so spot on because like it happens everytime not just with biracial man but black man do that too when they start dating outside their race

and i never understood that like do you feel guilty or something

no fr 🥴 bc personally eye do not care

[stranger-rants]

This is a side note to this discussion re: how characters get gendered in queer relationships.

I don't know how to say this, but to me receptive sex can be a very masculine thing depending on context so when it's only portrayed as something feminine people do, I get annoyed.

I'm not talking about "power bottoms" here, either. I am talking about how masculine characters can enjoy receptive sex as affirming of their masculinity and not demasculating.

I've read and enjoyed works where characters are feminized for kink purposes, but in that case I knew what I was reading and I accepted that going in. That isn't what I'm trying to criticize here...

More... the idea that receptive sex must be feminine kind of drives me crazy, and maybe that's because I don't understand gender and sexuality to begin with because I'm Triple A, but it doesn't make sense.

[msookyspooky]

I’m nearly CRYING😂, because you know how some skirts or dresses are really long so people just lift them up so they can run better? Like you nearly always see in historical dramas? Now I’m just thinking of Billy and Stu in the GF costume doing that, but they still have the knife and are chasing someone😂

Stu and Billy would probably rather trip than do something so 'dEmAsCuLatInG' but just imagine Billy finally giving in (Especially since he's shorter) and picking it up like this with his knife grumbling under his mask afhsdj

Now he has to to kill his victim from seeing him do that bc the embarrassment of it all 😂😂😂

[ooglywooglies]

its not just a case of ariana doing this = bad, me doing this = good, btw

like theres stuff from this period that was just as not good for me as trying to whitewash myself. i used to do things like dye my hair blacker than it already is (my hair is like half black and half brown in like an even spread or something its weird) i used to pose my face in a way that hid the hoods of my eyelids more than other poses (being a halfie means that you can look more or less of one thing or the other depending on the angle and the lighting and all that)

like part of the reason i did that stuff was bc it was more trendy to be asian at the time, and like ive always liked being vocal about asian struggles and stuff and it felt like i HAD to be "more authentic" in a way that ended up also being kind of a performance in a similar way to the whitewashing stuff but in the other direction. like ironically i knew i was trans the whole time so none of it was ever authentic it was just a back and forth rejecting my rejection from whatever group i didnt fit into most recently

thats whats so shit about being mixed is youre not really both and youre not really neither and youre not one or the other youre all of those things at the same time and its contradictory, these days i generally identify as "primarily asian" even though its not even true on a blood level fun fact im only a quarter asian, i identify as "primarily asian" because i have been treated as such by people virtually my entire life, the experience of being treated as if im white is only something ive known in small doses or somewhat recently (i have a whole post about how being half asian in suburban australia is very different from rural wyoming or minnesota)

anyway anyway, i think this has a lot to do with like femininity and beauty standards, like its pretty telling that i basically dropped all this shit immediately after i started transitioning (socially i mean, which means its been like 5 years) and i keep saying i want to dig into the ties between asianness as an aesthetic/appeal and femininity specifically, how i feel like i can never really escape femininity (not that i necessarily always mind, i am a nonbinary man) because of my features and the way my race/phenotype is gendered

the way it turns out gay men fetishize asians (who are bottoms) in a similar way to how asian women are fetishized by anyone who is attracted to women (but most certainly to a lesser extent)

idk my main source is my own experiences on grindr and its hard to disconnect my experiences of being fetishized for my race (as a man) and my gender (as a trans person) because they were happening simultaneously on there. like i cant say if asian cis gay men would be fetishized the same way as me because they dont have the axis of trans to worry about, and i cant possibly know if my transness contributes to the demasculation of my asianness since its not something i can remove

i remembered this morning that vanessa hudgen is wasian and i went to google what she is specifically and i saw some article about her "making an effort to let more people know shes filipina" or something and it looks like in pics she does her makeup differently than she used to and its funny if thats the case bc thats something i started doing after high school (when i still wore makeup), in high school i drew my eyeliner on my top eyelid and bottom eyelid but after awhile i started only doing the top

i used to do the underline in an effort to make my eyes look "bigger" and i used to wish my eyes were green like my sisters and at some point i basically flipped from wanting to look "more white" to look "more asian"

and just thinking that this is so weird. also this was well before there were asianfishing makeup trends like whatever the hell ariana grande was doing not too long ago and thats like, obviously an entirely different can of worms

[tyrin1350]

have you noticed the gay erasure in our black community? Like Ceiley was bi in the color purple so why do you think pepole try to say she was fully heterosexual?

the black community is full of homophobia, if it’s not a religious thing it’s a “white men are trying to demasculate the black man” thing as if being queer is something the colonizers forced on us.

So I can’t say I’m surprised