#male boxing

[panimoonchild]

Sport is not beyond politics

🥊 Oleksandr Usyk is the absolute world boxing champion in the heavyweight division!

Oleksandr Usyk is the third boxer in the modern history of men's boxing (four championship belts) to become an absolute world champion in different weight categories.

UNITED 24 ambassadors supported Oleksandr Usyk yesterday. In the photo with the boxer are footballer Andriy Shevchenko and actor Liev Schreiber.

He came to the final "battle of looks" in an outfit with Crimean Tatar ornaments, and then in an embroidered shirt with a portrait of Oleksandr Matsievsky, who was executed by the Russians.

❗Also one more impressive win in boxing:

Denys Berinchyk defeats Emanuel Navarrete to win the WBO lightweight title.

[rabiul-1980]

How to find the perfect boxer shorts: "A comprehensive guide" 

[iknowicanbutwhy]

@chipper-smol rolled a turtle into Siffrin's driveway and I was like. Aight. ourtle time

[inkskinned]

you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.

you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.

he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.

a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.

he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.

you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.

people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.

wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.

also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.

he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."

you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.

"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."

he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.

you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.

is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?

you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

I ain't gonna lie, I do noooot think radblr is gonna come out of this Imane Khelif thing unscathed. Like, y'all, I'm sorry, but there is not enough evidence for some of y'all to confidently call this person male and say some of the stuff you've been saying. At the very least you have to acknowledge that Khelif did not compete against women with malicious intent.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Hi! Can I request Luka (Honkai Star Rail) x bottom male reader smut?

I just want to get pounded by that twunk boxer.

Luka - “Biggest Fan”

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Hey @thezboss, I'm all done with your ask! I tried my best to deliver what you asked for, but please keep in mind that this is my first time writing smut as well as writing Luka with the fact that I've never played ‘HSR’ on top of that. I’m relying solely on the wiki for this one; so it probably won't be all that great. Sorry in advance. This post was written in second-person and the lyrics quoted in this one are from the song “Paparazzi” by Lady Gaga.

Warnings → Reader's Gender isn't Mentioned in Specifics, But They're Called ‘Baby Boy’, This is Based in a More Modern Setting, Porn With a More Soft Plot (?), Semi-Public Sex, Bathroom Sex, Mentioned Multiple Rounds, Dumbification, Overstimulation, Getting Caught and Mentions of Already Being Caught Multiple Times, Being Banned From Malls

Word Count: 1,164 words

                                                                                                   

🥊•♡•🥊•♡•🥊•♡•🥊•♡•🥊•♡•🥊•♡•🥊•♡•🥊

❝𝕴'𝖒 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕭𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝕱𝖆𝖓; 𝕴'𝖑𝖑 𝕱𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖀𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖑 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝕸𝖊-- 𝕻𝖆𝖕𝖆-𝕻𝖆𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖟𝖟𝖎~ 𝕭𝖆𝖇𝖞, 𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊'𝖘 𝕹𝖔 𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖚𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗-- 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕶𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝕴'𝖑𝖑 𝕭𝖊 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕻𝖆𝖕𝖆-𝕻𝖆𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖟𝖟𝖎~!❞

. . .

It's not every day that you meet your idol in a public place. Well– meet isn't exactly the right word for it, bump into would fit much better in this case. And in such a case as this, it was literal.

“Oomph–!”  

You squeaked as your face hit a very sturdy and –dare you say it– deliciously muscular chest; a blur of pale gray and black clouds your vision as you accidentally dropped your bags from the impact.

A startled ‘Oh’ tickles your ears and causes you to look up from the mixed colors that swirled in your gaze; being met with the sight of someone wearing a baseball cap and face mask—. Wait a moment–! Is that who you think it is!? Holy fuck, it is! It's really him! Thee Luka; winner of the Belobog Boxing Championship!! 

You were practically vibrating in place; Luka, your idol and celebrity crush, was standing right before you! Never before have you been so close to him; you can even see the stitching of his ripped tank top from this distance. And you touched him–! With your face!! Your face was on his body!!!

“Ah– Wait a minute– I recognize you; you're always in the front row at my matches. You cheer the loudest.”  

The red-headed boxer chirps with enthusiasm as he extends his hand out and gives you a friendly ‘pat’ on the shoulder that causes you to lose your balance just slightly.

However, he was quick to steady you with the same hand and shot you a look of concern. The feeling of his thumb gently caressing the bare skin of your shoulder breaks you from your inner fanboying as you notice him looking deeply into your eyes. A fierce warmth takes over your face as you realize that you haven't said anything at all.

“I‐I'm– Yes! I mean– Y‐you– You're Luka!”  

You barely managed to squeak out before his large hand closed around your mouth and he frantically looked around in panic.

The raspberry-haired man chuckles softly –almost nervously– as he turns his gaze back to you and away from its previous place over his shoulder. His calloused hand still tightly clamped over your mouth; pressing your back into a nearby wall that was shadowed by the open floor balcony walkway of the second floor. Your body can only warm as your hands that rested against his sturdy chest out of reflex subtly feel the taller man up almost reflexively. Your fingers run between the seams between his pectoral and abdominals, they're deep and enchanting, and his torso is lined with plateaus of muscle.

“You like ‘em?”  

Luka almost groans out; he seems to have moved to almost cage you beneath him. Resting his forearms on the wall above your head, shading you from the mall's overhead fluorescent lights as he gazed at you with dark hooded eyes.

Your eyes shyly climb from his abdomen to his chest, then his neck, jaw, lips, and nose until they finally stop at his own blistering hot azure eyes. The boxer almost looked like a feral animal that was preparing itself to pounce. Pounce on you. Holy shit– your idol is looking at you like he wants to eat you, but, of course, you can't bring yourself to dislike it at all. I mean, who would? Somehow though, being lusted after by the man you practically dedicated a whole room in your house to made you feel a lot more confident.

“Mh– yeah, I like ‘em. Wanna feel ‘em without all this in the way; can I?”  

The whisper leaves your lips before you can even process that you're still in the mall, in public,  surrounded by strangers as you tug at his shirt with one hand and curl the fingers of the other around the belt that held his pants up. 

 Maybe that was how you ended up here– face pressed up against the bathroom stall as you're taken from behind.

 Then again, you can't remember too much anymore, only the sound of Luka's sexy groans and the feeling of his cock stirring your guts around with no rest in sight. You can't even remember when you started or how long you've been at it as your brain was practically soup at this point. Your stiff legs shook with overexertion; trembling and buckling under your body weight with each harsh thrust from behind you.

The sound of slurred whines bounced around in the echoey public restroom; you swear you can't even recognize that it's your voice until the boxer chuckles and makes a comment about it.

“Fu–uck, you're so cute, baby boy. Keep makin’ those sweet little sounds for me.”  

The raspberry-haired man groaned through gritted teeth; picking up the pace yet again and abusing your already ruined, puffy hole.

Amongst your sweet mewls and the boxer's pleasure groans, the faint sound of footsteps enters the bathroom and then abruptly pauses. The intruder stands rigid with shock as they hear the sloppy sounds of fornication and see the two pairs of feet and a small puddle of creamy liquid under the partition of the fourth stall. With a quiet ‘Oh my God’ they quickly leave with a boner straining in their pants and are met with a knowing glance from a few other mall shoppers outside the bathroom.

A broken moan rips from your throat as Luka takes a good handful of your hair and uses it as leverage to deliver more monstrous thrusts. The crisp sound of the skin of his hips ramming against the flesh of your ass steeped in the room; so loud that it could be heard from outside if someone was close enough. So deep, so rough, so hot; you felt like you were dying.

“No-oo mor-r-r-re!”  

Your lips trembled as you begged pathetically; tears poured from your eyes that were squeezed shut from the sheer ferocity of the man behind you. 

It was too much, it was just too much. This man is an animal! Did he expect you to be able to just walk home after this? To be able to stand? To even be coherent? One of your heavy arms limply hangs at your side, jolting and swaying with your body as you try to will it to reach for the locked stall door to no avail. There's no way this beast would let you go, he's still not satisfied.

“Oh, no baby, there's no stopping yet. Hah. You're my biggest fan, remember? I gotta give you the best of the best –ngh– as thanks for all of your support.”  

Luka grins against your nape; uncaring that the two of you will certainly be banned from this mall after all those people report you to security. 

It's fine, though; you both can just pick up where you left off at a hotel. But, for now, he has to give his biggest fan the most memorable meeting that he can, and luckily, he's nowhere near tired yet.

. . .

❝𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖊 𝕴'𝖑𝖑 𝕭𝖊 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖉-- 𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝕴 𝖂𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖕 𝖀𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖑 𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝕭𝖔𝖞 𝕴𝖘 𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖊~ 𝕭𝖆𝖇𝖞, 𝖄𝖔𝖚'𝖑𝖑 𝕭𝖊 𝕱𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖘-- 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕯𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖀𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖑 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝕸𝖊-- 𝕻𝖆𝖕𝖆-𝕻𝖆𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖟𝖟𝖎~!❞

🥊•♡•🥊•♡•🥊•♡•🥊•♡•🥊•♡•🥊•♡•🥊•♡•🥊

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Reblogs are appreciated ~ 𔓘

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[stuck-writing-sickos]

In Poor Taste [P2]

[Series Link]

(Yandere x Reader)

[Warning: misogyny, xenophobia, hint to racism, explicit language, asshole male lead]

You were never crazy about spoiled rich men. They were nothing but troubles.

He knew your type. Quiet, agreeable, and a little bit of a pushover.

He didn't say it, but he had noticed your lack of reaction when Tahara revoked your right to the summer break. Truth was, he never paid attention to women like you when he was in college. The quiet ones who took things seriously as if they had something to lose, those were hard to get. He never bothered with those who were hard to get when there were plenty of other options. He liked the sunkissed  blondes who knew to dress up in white sundresses and spaghetti straps, those who knew to party on Saturday and yoga class on Sunday. They never put up a hard fight, just the right amount, and when he got bored so did they. In and out of his bedroom they whirled, whimsical and effortless. He never bothered to find out if they were smart or complicated, and if they tried to show him, he'd move on to the next. A part of him felt bad, but the encouraging jokes and nudges of his frat brothers overrode that twinge in his chest when he saw sad eyes following him down the campus walkway. It didn't matter, not if he got the liquor and summer yatch trips.

He also liked other types. Soft-spoken brunettes who listened to sad songs and doodled hearts onto his notes. Fierce raven-haired girls who knew to throw back shots and moved their bodies to the music. The rich exchange girls who, despite their attitudes, knew their ways around his body and submitted to his rhythm. He liked them all because he could consume them, so he said he support women. Those he didn't like, well, they were on their own.

So he didn't mind that you were older and reserved. True, he never bothered with women like you because he thought he could do without them, but now that he was in Tokyo all alone, he could see your values. So, he thought to look.

You were the serious type. Soft-spoken, patient, and reserved. You looked after yourself rather dilligently - your clothes fit well, and you smelled of subtle floral perfume. Your movement when you walked around the school were gentle but decisive - you knew what to do, and you did it quick, as if you always had something better to do. A part of him didn't like that. For why, he didn't interrogate. "Why" was never a questioned he bothered with, since he could do well for the first 22 years of his life without it. When someone always get what they want, they hardly ever want to know "why".

He knew he was brash and bold to ask you out for dinner, but he assumed you knew the implication. He was interested enough. You had a fine body, and you knew how to look good. "Late bloomer" was what he liked to call women like you, the type who took themselves too seriously in school, but then learnt how to be pretty in their latter years. They would know how to relax, to not be so uptight.

So there he sat in a booth at a restaurant downtown, waiting, a little impatient to see that you were late. Perhaps he was to blame to tell you to take your time and freshen up at home. He wondered if you would doll up. Where would you show your skin? Where would you shave? He liked it shaved. His fingers toyed with the small tea cup, tapping its side and running down the curve of its rim.

"Hi! Sorry for the wait... I was caught up with a phone call."

He looked up. There you were, smiling down at him. He shamelessly looked at your body, studying the way the nice dress pants accentuate your hip and ass. Then, as you sat down, he took notes of your off-shoulder top, then the blink of your earrings. You may tried to make it seem innocuous, but he could tell. You dressed up for him.

"Not at all! I just got here."

You kept your smile on. He didn't notice that it was manufactured. He was caught up watching you leaning forward, your fingers flipping over the menu. The way your cleavage was catching shadow captured his attention.

"So, how is Tokyo treating you?"

He didn't think you would speak first. You barely humored any small talks during the day, only giving him just enough.

"It's good, it's good", he mused, "I'm enjoying the new culture and people. It's all very new to me, so I'm excited."

You looked up at him now, your eyes narrowing as your smile widened.

"It's a great city. There's always something to look at. Do you ever miss your friends and family, though?"

He leaned in as well, closing the gap. He could see you flinch just barely as his fluffy black curls almost tickle your forehead.

"Well, of course. I miss my family a lot, especially my sister. She's applying for college soon, and I wish I could be there to support her, you know?"

"You have a sister?"

He was pleased to see you following the script so far. Girls were often intrigued by the fact that he had a sister - it means he grew up knowing how to be sensitive and protective. It was a reliable card to play.

"Yeah, we grew up quite close, you know. I still remember her crying like a baby when I left for college", he chuckled, "now it's her turn."

You laughed softly at that.

"Yeah... she must be so sad to see you go to Japan, right?"

He nods, his eyes flickering between your face and your neck, eager to peer right down your top. You must be wearing those stick-on nipple covers to rock a top like that.

"Oh, she was, but she's more excited to be independent in college. Too excited, to be honest. I had to warn her not to get in troubles."

"What kind of trouble?"

He found himself looking at your lips now. Your gentle voice and soft gaze managed to distract him. For a second, he found himself pausing to stare.

"Oh... alcohol, drugs, bad friends. You know the deal."

"Did you get into troubles in college, too?"

The simple question now seemed so implicative. He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing, and he saw that you looked. Your lashes flutterred for a second before your eyes met his.

Empty.

You were harder to read than he thought. Perhaps it was the age difference, he wondered, or the fact that your naturally composed attitude had sealed your attraction toward him. He never hit on an older woman before, so he supposed it was only natural that he couldn't catch your energy right away. Or were you secretly experienced? Three years seemed little to him at first, but he suddenly felt self-conscious at your still demeanor. You were still smiling and expectant, but in a different way than he imagined. You were yet to be doe-eyed, yet to melt when she heard about his bond with his sister. How many men had had their ways with you? Did you please them well? Did you moved and squirm under their touch? He felt himself heating up.

"Good afternoon, dear customers. May I take your order?"

He almost jumped. You didn't. Awkwardly pointing to the menu, he glanced at you who quickly said your orders. You seemed comfortable.

Did he lose his edge?

The waiter swiftly left. Lukas felt that the chemistry was disrupted. His keen eyes watched your form pulling back away from him, and he caught the faint perfume wafting his way. He decided to keep his posture forward, staying on the offensive side.

"I guess I did get into some troubles", he admitted, his hand instinctively rubbing the nape of his neck, as if to conceal what his clothes couldn't. His skin was warm to the touch.

"Well, what kind?"

He couldn't tell if you were interested. You were asking him lots of questions, even from the start. Did you want to know more about him?

"Oh, we were crazy. One time, a pledge covered himself in lighter fluid and lit himself on fire before jumping into the pool."

"Ah... so the typical frat bros stuff. I guess I've seen something like that at X. Uni", you nodded, your smile turning a bit cheeky.

He shifted even closer.

"Yeah, we were bad boys. Were you in a sorrority? Greek life is big at X."

You shook yout head slowly.

"No... It seemed very fun, but I guess I was too focused on other stuff."

"What stuff?"

"I was trying to keep my scholarship, so that took most of my time, I guess. I wasn't too involved with student life aside trom the school's art magazine."

"So you are a smartie?"

You hung your head humbly.

"I guess you could say that."

"So what did you do to blow off steam, then? Or were you at the library all day?"

He felt just a bit desperate trying to know you. He knew his bombarding questions were coming off a little strong, but he didn't want to feel exposed and insecure anymore. He had opened up, he thought it would be fair if you let him in a little. Wind down, be less uptight.

"I went to Ellum sometimes."

Ellum, the bar street. So you knew how to party after all. Maybe you did have experiences with men.

"Oh, me and my boys liked it there."

"For troubles?"

He laughed.

"For troubles, yeah. It'd be crazy if we met and never knew it."

"Well, it was all dark and loud in there. Maybe we did."

"Then it's fate."

He felt corny saying it, but the words slipped out anyway. His heart twisted when you laughed at that, your chest vibrating. You lifted your hand to cover your smile, and he saw a glimpse of ink as your top pulled against your shoulder. Tattoos, huh? He didn't peg you as the type to get them.

Seeing that it was his chance, he reached over to adjust the fabric, his fingertips lingering just a moment too long. He felt it, the electric as he felt your cool skin against his own. You were soft and smooth, like a nice spread of butter against crispy toast.

"Oh, my bad, I just saw your shirt falling off a little there."

Your laugh dwindled. You touched where he touched, your chest rising and lowering at a slower beat.

Lukas found himself feeling expectant.

"Ah, well, thank you", you said, your voice more relaxed now. That was a good sign.

The waiters came back with the orders and left just as hurriedly.

"I have a question", Lukas mused, somehow anxious to lose your attention when you reached for your utensils.

"Pray tell."

"What's the best food place that you've ever been in Tokyo?"

He winced internally. Corny and immature, that was what he was being. What a 17-year-old first date question that was.

"I'd say the unlabelled streetfood carts at the open-air markets", you said, your finger resting on your chin for a moment, "I like to go there if I ever have to stay late at work."

"You gotta show me sometimes, then. I love streetfood!"

He felt stupid clawing at any ways he could to compel your interest. You were right there, laughing at his jokes, asking about his family, paying attention to him. Yet somehow he still felt like you were distant, somewhere in an invisible fish bowl, and what he had said to you were muffled through the water and glass.

"Of course, I'd be happy to. But let me know if you are allergic to anything, or if you are scared of seafood."

"Not at all", he confidently shook his head, "I went to Italy last summer, and the seafood was amazing!"

"Trip across Europe?"

"Trip across Europe", he nodded, "I'd say, Italy for best seafood, France for best wine, Germany for best beer, and Netherlands for the best, well, you know..."

You playfully rolled your eyes.

"I see you like to travel."

"Oh, it changes my whole perspective. I really found myself, you know. It's like... I come back a whole different person. I think everyone should travel."

You gave him a strange look. Not a scowl nor a frown. A gentle squint of the eyes. It could be anything. He couldn't decide if he was being too boastful, or if he had said something wrong. Did you not like that? Maybe you hadn't been as well-travelled as he was, and what he said had come across as unrelatable.

"But of course, you know, if your money allows it. It doesn't cost as much as you think if you know how to budget."

The playful twinkle in your eyes told him that you were responding to him, and likely not negatively. Still, he felt more stupid adding on to what he said. He didn't know why, but he felt as though you were looking down on him.

Why would you look down on him?

Lukas may not realize it, but this was one of the rare occasions when he let the "why" bother him.

"Of course, travelling can be great. I haven't travelled much, but I imagine that when I have enough money, I would travel. I have a few places in mind."

"Where to?"

"For starter, Norway."

Weird answer.

"What's in Norway?"

"The aurora borealis."

He furrowed his brows.

"You want to see the northern light?"

"More than anything."

"It doesn't cost that much though."

"Yeah, but solo travelling costs more, I imagine."

"I can go with you."

He felt decidedly stupid and overconfident.

"Wouldn't that be something...", you commented, your eyes casting aside, "well, that's my top destination for sure."

You were growing cold again. Lukas couldn't for the life of him figure out where he was going wrong. Maybe you just weren't attracted to him, but that was unlikely. He knew how good he looked. He may have heard "sorry I have a boyfriend" and "I'm looking for something serious", but he couldn't think of a time when someone had admitted to him not being their type. Not even behind his back.

"Also, you seem to like to drink. Two out of the four places you mentioned was about alcohol."

He didn't expect you to pick up on the conversation. Maybe he simply had gotten into his head.

"Oh, I guess. I did drink a lot in college, but that's just what it was all about, you know?"

"About troubles, I know."

He felt his face growing hot.

"Right... well, I'd love to know what other Japanese drinks are like, too. I've tasted sake, but it was mild. I'm more of a beer and shots guy."

"Wine, too, right? In France."

You had not once lost your composure. He felt like he was squirming in his seat. He wanted to sleep with you, that was clear. He needed to know what it was like to get with someone older than him, even if it was a mere three years. What would you be like in bed? What did you learn from all the men from your past? The unphased facade, the tattoo, the way you maintained your calm upon his touch and his banter... you knew something he didn't. You had experienced things he hadn't.

"Right, that. Do you drink at all? Here, in Japan, I mean."

"Sometimes."

"Hey, it's a Friday night. Do you maybe want to grab a drink at a pub somewhere after this?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, incredulous. He knew he was being brash and bold, but he couldn't help it. You were something he wanted to add to his collection.

Letting you mull over it, he watched your calm face.

"Sure...", you softly agreed, "but only for a little while."

"Something coming up tomorrow?"

Someone to see tomorrow?

Your blank eyes glimmered under the flourescent light for a second. He almost wanted to hold his breath.

"Just some personal affair in the afternoon."

There you go being elusive again. He thought he would have had you in his palm by now, but not yet. Maybe he didn't know your type.

[yandere-wishes]

Qimir x jedi reader tasked with watching him? Bonus for sith / force user mastermind Qimir trying to turn the reader 👀

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

I don't know why but something about Qimir makes me think of strawberries.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

You part your lips, slowly, sanguinely letting him push the ripe red fruit between your teeth. Qimir smiles eyes a little too bright in the half-rundown apothecary. You find that the golden flicker in his gaze reminds you of strawberry achenes shining under twin suns.

Odd how he's just like the old-world fruit.

"You know" Qimir's voice holds its regular loosened melody. A lyric lilt between each syllable. "these strawberries are really similar to the force. betcha didn't know the yellow freckles are the real fruit and the red part is just the housing."

You bite, severing the red thing in half. It's sweet and juicy yet oddly firm. You wonder if this is what Qimir's lips taste like. Maybe he'll let you have a bite. "It's kinda like us-..you, you force force users. All individual specks floating around the galaxy. Held together by the force."

The little not-seeds rasp against your throat as you swallow. You want so badly to feel his lips, suck the minimal force radiating off of him devouring it whole and letting his glaring darkness fester inside your stomach.

Maybe red and gold are better than the blue and green you've always known. Maybe the fickle words of a fickle man hold some mirth, worth engraving in your heart.

You watch tentatively as Qimir's teeth sink into the other half. He smiles through the bite and swallow. Oh, how you wish you were that particular strawberry sitting pretty between his lips.

You're a Jedi.

Some immovable force.

So why do you quiver and fawn for such a corrupted man?

He's closer now, snuffing the air from your lungs. You're on the edge of his hooded gaze, frozen as his berry-blemished lips come closer. "A Jedi shouldn't want this.." His lips taste like ancient starfruit, burning with flavors too strong to tame. His tongue parts your teeth slipping inside and feeding off your little moans.

"These pleasures are only for those who embrace the dark.." He finally says, the kiss now a distant memory. You close your eyes, trying to regain a fraction of your breath before bolting through the door.

On the way back to the Jedi temple, you palm the inside of your pocket. Feeling the soft pricks of strawberry. Your heart skips a rotting beat.

Master Sol = pears

Yord = Mango

Darth Teeth = coconut

[elysianmadness]

"Lesbian means exclusive attraction to women!"

"No, it means non-men exclusively attracted to non-men!"

"It actually means queer attraction to women!"

"Lesbian means women and nonbinary people being exclusively attracted to other women and nonbinary people!"

Lesbian is a multifaceted label that can describe many different experiences. There is no one perfect definition of lesbian that will encompass the entire diverse experiences that lesbians can have.

I'm personally a genderqueer woman who's exclusively attracted to other women, but the lesbian next to me might be a transmasc lesbian who loves all genders except for men. And the lesbian next to them might be a bigender lesbian who's both a girl and a boy, who's exclusively attracted to women. Our experiences can all be described by the term lesbian if that's how we wish to describe it, but we might define it differently based on our own experiences. And guess what?

None of our definitions are wrong, but none of our definitions will encompass every other lesbian's experiences. A word can have multiple definitions without any of the definitions being wrong. And those definitions can be very vague or very specific. Labels are made to fit us- we aren't made to fit labels.

People who may have a different experience with the lesbian label are not your enemies. People in lesbian spaces who aren't exactly like you are not your enemies. The problem comes when you try to force one singular definition on every single lesbian. THAT is harmful. Sending death threats to other lesbians because they don't have the same experience as you is harmful. Not another lesbian having a different experience from you.

[genderkoolaid]

i’ve been seeing that “nooo tboy mutual don’t reblog that transandrophobia post, there are so many other non-reactionary frameworks that you can use to understand your experiences” post go around (unfortunately from. a lot of my mutuals.)

and it’s really frustrating to me bc like. i would love to hear them!!! i would love to discuss different lenses of viewing the specific kind of oppression that transmascs face, i would love to learn about different perspectives!!

but so much of what’s out there either 1) doesn’t include us at all or 2) insists that our oppression isn’t anything more than transphobia, or that it’s just misdirected transmisogyny, or that it’s just transphobia and misogyny, but no discussion of how transphobia and misogyny interact to specifically impact transmascs. it just feels so disingenuous and dismissive because whenever we talk about our experiences, no matter what language we use, we’re shut down over and over and over again.

Godddd I saw that post the other day and could not help but roll my eyes. Saying there's "so many other frameworks" to use disregards a fundamental reason why this framework is being created in the first place: transmascs, across different ages and races and other variables, feeling silenced and absent in other models of society, even those claiming to be for trans-feminist. Like if you are trying to convince trans guys to not use the term transandrophobia maybe start by acknowledging the absence of proper frameworks to discuss the unique position of trans men & mascs. & you know damn well none of these people will acknowledge how every other iteration of "transandrophobia" ALSO got shut down for being Problematic™, including "isomisogyny" which was literally just misogyny with a prefix attached to assure cis women that we would never DARE to imply that transmascs might be oppressed by the same social force as them!

But that's the problem with people trying to make the discussion of anti transmasculinity palatable! They want to have a version of this discussion that isn't threatening at all to the deeply ingrained anti (trans)masculinity in queer spaces. Literally any criticism, no matter how lukewarm or carefully handled, is labeled "reactionary." After you get rid of everything that people hate about transandrophobia theory you are left with none of the things that make it valuable to transmascs + everyone else who benefits from this discussion.

[buckybbdark]

Curious ask prompt sketch

[tygerland]

Barry Keoghan 2016, by Conor Clinch.

[bunnygirllover45]

warm-up drawings. I'll start answering asks soon again, I have like 80+ on my inbox.

[bigdumbjock]

Fight Club

[himejoshiangels]

cass cain is so emotive and I hate that so many of yall fall straight into the stoic asian woman stereotype thing because like, the only reason cass wouldn't vocalize a feeling is when she would struggle to find the word for it because she literally wasn't taught how to speak. that's so fucking upsetting. She has such big beautiful emotions, she feels so deeply about the littlest things but everytime she has trouble putting it into words she's reminded that she was conceived not to. her abuser did not have her feelings or her pain in mind, only how well she could end a life. can you fucking imagine

[octoberautumnbox]

Yasss, time has come for more Yuri fics, looking forward to a Yuri ult stan :>

Thing with Yuri is, you can never know what to expect next. One moment she's a fluffy puppy cuddling with you then the next she's got you in her grip edging you all day. Just a crazy switch brat. Though that's why I fell hard for her

Enjoy

IZ*ONE/Soloist Jo Yuri & Male Reader

Word count: 2882

Categories/warnings: smut, alcohol, implied violence & blood, very slight dubcon, blowjob, handjob, breast play, cowgirl, kiss-and-fuck, only a little bit rough, okay maybe a tiny bit more rough. 

a/n: got way too into the setup im so sorry ill put a marker down there for the actual smut. also big thank you to @iznsfw for the pic ive been looking for this forever. lastly not proofread nor beta’d bc i still haven’t reached out to anyone seriously for writing tips and stuff yet aaaa

Everyone said Yuri was a good person: all sweet-looking, nice to everyone, takes a joke just as well as the next girl. Wouldn't hurt a fly even if she wanted to. There was something about her though; you couldn't place exactly what, but you were convinced nobody was that naturally sweet. Something was up with her.

It's a good thing then that she wasn't anyone particularly important. Jo Yuri was just another person that you'd never needed to talk to in the six months since class began. It was easy enough to ignore her, and ignore her you did. 

"You've been cooped up for way too long. Come on, 8 pm. Round of drinks on me if you show. Leave right after if you want. I swear. Just enjoy yourself." Your friend loomed over the table, blocking the light from your copy of 1984. Putting your palm on the top of his head, you closed your grip around a handful of his hair and pulled his head to where your book was sufficiently illuminated. "I'll think about it," you mutter before looking back to the yellowing paper. "Ryujin will be there too." Your friend occupied the seat next to you, rubbing his head where you grabbed. "And her friends. Isa, Minjeong, that cutie from ours you hate so fucking much," he says with a smirk, as if it was the checkmate that would make you drop everything and go. "Didn't take her to be into that type of thing," you say without looking up, "Ryujin, sure, but – what's her name? Yuri? – Feels like she just couldn't say no." He shrugs. "Maybe. What matters in the end is she'll be there, she's single, and she's got a hell of a rack." "Fucking perv. Anyway, I'll think about it." He smirks at you again. "Not because of Yuri, god dammit."

~~~

You shut your laptop and stretch. You rub your eyes for a good minute before wiping away the fatigue to find your clock striking 7. You stare at it, as if intimidating it to go faster and faster to past 8 pm so you wouldn't have to go. Defeatedly, and with regret already seeping into your mind, you get up from your chair and grab a towel. 

~~~

“Hey, long time no fucking see!” Ryujin swings her arm around your shoulders and spills half her drink onto the floor. “Hey, Ryu. Glad to see you're already half-shitfaced this early into the night.” “Fuck you. By the way, meet Isa,” she says as she drags you towards one of the booths. “We've met. Hi, Isa.” She waves and downs a shot of gin. “Who convinced you to come all the way out here?” Isa slams the shot glass onto the wooden table, nearly cracking it and probably denting the wood. “Ah, also shitfaced. I was just free, that's all. Nice to see you again.” She waves again before burying her face in her hands. You drop Ryujin onto an open space in the seats before heading for the bar.

“There he is! Fuck you, man. Stay a little!” Your friend turns around and yells, “Round of drinks on me!” The bar roars with cheers as you take a seat on one of the stools. “Glad you could make it, dude! It’s been forever! Hey, enjoy yourself. See any chicks you like? Maybe enjoy someone else too?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you obnoxiously. Thinking he’d be distracted within the next five seconds, you mutter to the bartender an order of a bottle of beer. Just then, you watch as your friend is approached by another guy, talked to a little, and then dragged off in a semi-drunk daze away to some other group. 

“Three margaritas, please.” You turn around to the stool on the other side of you. “Oh, you’re in my class, right? I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. I’m Yuri,” she says with the cutest smile you’ve ever seen. The bartender places her three drinks on the counter and pops the cap off your own before setting it in front of you as well. “Right, I like your top,” gesturing to a little chain by the neckline. “Do you need help carrying those, by any chance? Or are all three of them for you?” She chuckles shyly. “Would you mind giving me a hand bringing these over to the booth with Isa and Ryujin over there?” 

~~~

Your phone reads 11:00 pm. Ryujin’s face is practically glued to the table, and Isa continues mumbling into her palms about her teddy bears wondering why she hasn’t come home yet. Your friend is sitting next to and has his arm around Ryujin, and you can guess where his free hand is. Knowing you’ve drunk a few yourself, you get up and walk cautiously yet in no straight line towards the toilets. After doing your business, you wash your hands and leave. On the way out of the bathroom, you set your mind to wake up Ryujin and offer to see her and Isa home. 

As you make your way back to the booth, you find a pair of guys huddled by a corner. You see between them a familiar figure. In your daze you fight to recall why it’s something you can recall, and then it hits you. The glint of the chain on her neckline catches your eye and you walk over to them, for the second time regret seeping into your mind before anything even happens. You’re way too drunk, you think to yourself. Whatever happens next is a bad idea, but you steel your resolve that it has to happen.

“Oh, Oppa!” She turns both guys’ attention to you, and they start throwing you dirty looks. “Hey, come on. Everyone’s drunk, we’d better go.” You make for her wrist, but one of the guys pushes you back. You notice the other guy has his hand on her shoulder, keeping her against the wall. “Why don’t you look after your friends, and we’ll look after her?” “Don’t make me do this,” you quip as you take a step forward again. After hearing them chuckle, the alcohol takes over you, your vision flashes, and finally fades to red. The last thing you remember is swinging high and kicking low.

~~~

You slowly come to, raising your head from the headrest. A stinging pain and a cold touch on the corner of your mouth greet you as your vision stabilizes from quadruple, to triple, and to double, before settling your focus on a bottle of antiseptic solution on the coffee table in front of you. Immediately, you shut your eyes as tight as they can go, deciding wherever you are is too bright, and deciding that the pain on your temple and across your forehead has something to do with how hard you’re shutting your eyes. 

“You didn’t have to do that. I was just about to leave.” You hear pieces of ice clink against each other as the cold touch moves to your forehead. “Hi, Yuri. They didn't do much worse to you did they?” “No,” she says in a relieved tone, “you saved me. It was a lot to take in honestly, but they’re worse off than you are. Thank you.” The cold spot again moves to the corner of your mouth. 

You struggle your eyes open and find her right up in your face, inspecting what you think is a wound by your eyebrow. She notices you staring at her and she backs off quickly. “Sorry… That one looked pretty bad.” “Thanks for looking after me. Where are we?” You try to sit up, only to be forced back down by a number of painful spots all over your back and torso. “You fought them, they fought back,” she pushes you down firmly onto the sofa and brings the ice bag back onto your face, “you won. We got back to the booth, and you made me call a taxi. You carried Isa-unnie and Ryujin into the taxi,” she hands you a glass of water, which you begin sipping, “and I got the other oppa. We dropped off Isa-unnie, then your friend. You wouldn’t tell me where to drop you off,” she takes the empty glass, “so I had no choice but to bring you here. Ryujin is upstairs in her room.” 

You sit up more comfortably. “Thanks, Yuri. I owe you one.” You check the time, and find it’s 2:00 am. “Sorry for intruding so late. I should go–” “You’re…” she interrupts. “You're in no condition to go home alone. Spend the night. Please?” She looks at you with a pair of puppy dog eyes and flashes a heart with her hands to you. “I… Thank you.” You lay back onto the sofa, the fatigue you didn’t know you had overwhelming you into oblivion.

~~~

(smut starts here)

You open your eyes slowly, taking advantage of the darkness.The first thing you notice are the closed pink curtains, and next is the fluffy scent of baby powder and fresh shampoo. You continue trying to get your bearings, and an immense wave of pleasure shoots up your spine. You look down and see Yuri licking your dick up and down, savoring each stroke of her tongue and letting her spit cover every inch. 

You place a hand on her nape, and she looks up at you. “Oh, good morning. Am I doing this right, Oppa?” She takes another long drag of her tongue from the base to your tip, causing you to moan lightly. “I’w thake that ash a yesh,” she mumbles as she places the head of your cock onto her tongue. “Yuri, what are you…” She takes half your length into her mouth and hollows out her cheeks to suck you off. She releases your dick with a pop, “I feel like I haven’t thanked you enough for last night. Call it even?” She smiles as innocently as can be, and then takes your cock into her mouth again. “Please tell me if you feel uncomfortable, I’ll stop if you want…” “Keep going, baby.” She blushes at the sudden use of her pet name, but returns to her work of thanking you much more profusely than you ever imagined. 

As she continues sucking you off, you snake your hand towards her nightgown and onto her left breast. You ease back into the bed and fondle her through the smooth fabric, earning her own little moans vibrating through her throat and onto your shaft. She lets go of your cock once again, and pulls the straps of her gown off her shoulders. She pulls the smooth dress down, exposing a cute and perky pair of breasts. “Please ogle me a lot, Oppa…” She grabs your shaft again with one hand and makes long and slow strokes up and down your entire length. With her other hand, she takes yours and places it onto her left breast. “Just enjoy… Just enjoy me.” 

“Jack me off faster, baby,” you command her, and she moans slightly at the name again. She goes faster and her grip grows just a bit tighter. She maintains eye contact with you as best as she can despite you pinching her hardening pink nipples, drawing her to close her eyes and let her head lull back. You motion for her to use her mouth again and she obeys immediately, bending over to your dick and granting you easier reach to fondle her other breast. You pay special attention to how she likes her nipples played with, tracing circles along her areolas before taking her nubs between your index finger and thumb to squeeze and tug. In return, she grows a bit more careless with her blowjob, letting her mouth leak more and more saliva, as well as taking in more and more of your length before finally hitting the back of her throat. You accidentally tug on her boobs a bit harder, causing her to moan onto the tip of your dick. You start feeling guilty when she starts sliding your cock out of her mouth, but as you get ready to apologize she lifts up the bottom hem of her nightgown, showing you her clean shaven pussy. She gathers her whole gown into one bunch by her waist before pulling it over her head to leave herself completely naked for you. 

“Please tell me you like me, Oppa…” She pleads slowly and carefully, while bringing your hands to her chest once again. You relish on the warmth and softness of her breasts that you only realize she’s already straddled you and has started stroking your cock again. “Tell me… I want to hear you say it, please.” “You’re so,” she gives you one rapid stroke, “fucking,” she moans as you fondle her more roughly, “hot,” she forces herself to look straight into your eyes again, “Jo Yuri.” She speeds up her handjob, finding it harder and harder to maintain her eye contact in favor of shutting her eyes and letting the pleasure overtake her. “I’m close.” She strokes you rapidly, noticing how your legs are starting to shake, her gaze growing more intense, her squeezing you tighter, your moans getting louder, your grip on her boobs getting rougher and rougher and rougher, until–

She lets go just as you’re about to cum, “Oppa… did you cum?” “Not yet, baby, why’d you stop?” You groan disappointedly at her. “I’m sorry… It’s just… you have to enjoy me more.” She brings her soaked pussy above your cock and rubs the tip all over her lower lips, smearing your precum and her slick together on her hot cunt. You groan again, and she gets the message. Bit by bit, she sinks herself down onto your dick, relishing in the sensation of a huge and girthy cock filling her up. You accidentally squeeze her soft tits too hard again, and with an apologetic harsh tug on both her nipples downward, she abruptly slams herself down onto your waist, taking in your cock to the hilt. You feel every inch of your dick being squeezed by her pussy and soaked with her love juices, and at the end of it you feel your tip prod against what must be her cervix. 

“Never got my toy this deep into me before. Do you like it, Oppa? Does my slutty little fuckhole make you feel good?” She grins evilly at you as she leans forward for a kiss. You barely process her amazingly naughty words before she starts riding you, lifting herself up until only your tip remains in her, before slamming herself down again, taking your entire length into herself. You relish how her cunt clenches around you so lovingly, how tight she is that there’s no way this doesn’t hurt her, how loud she moans while you feel your cock quickly entering and exiting her pussy. 

She plants her elbows on either side of your head and cradles your face right in front of her bouncing chest. You take her right nipple into your mouth and she moans all the more loudly, rides you all the more violently. Your right hand grabs her left breast, fondling it the way that drives her crazy, and your last free hand gripping her ass as a hold to guide her up and down your cock. “Yuri,” you mumble with her nipple between your teeth, “I’m close again…” She rides you harder and you find it more difficult holding it in. You pray she lets you cum this time, calling upon a God you once knew, but also you pray that she lets you pull out first. Or not. As long as you cum. 

You begin sucking more harshly, and she responds by riding you faster; she grinds on your dick and drags your cock over every inch of her warm, wet walls. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, aching for her own release as well. Your grip on her ass tightens too, so much so that her cheeks spill out between your fingers as you pull her closer and pump into her as deep as you humanly can. 

You must’ve hit every last one of her good spots. A scream tears through her throat as she lifts herself off of you. Her cum sprays all over your waist, your cock, her bedsheets, and she even has the indecency to rub her clit all throughout, causing more and more of her cum to spray everywhere. You watch her through her climax, admiring the way her thighs jiggle with every jerk of her hips, the way her nipples stand erect on top of her bouncing boobs, the way her face contorts with an ungodly amount of pleasure she’s never experienced in her life. She falls forward, pressing her still-leaking cunt on your dick, and her breasts onto your chest as she heaves deep breaths through what should be a now-bruised throat. In a raspy yet sweet voice, she asks, “Was it good, Oppa? Did you like the feeling of pounding your horny pleasure girl’s tight little cunt?” She snuggles into your neck and plants little kisses along your jawline. “I haven’t cum yet, baby…” you admit quietly and out of breath. “Oh? That’s fine, Oppa. It just means you can enjoy me more.”

a/n: whoa that was way longer than I ever thought I could write at this point. all of that just this afternoon and only in response to the ask lol. this wasnt in my WIPs tbh and it was just a random BFH that accidentally took me... five hours to write? again im glad how it turned out thanks for reading all this youre awesome