eddiemunsonsdick · 1 year ago
Text
I hope England wins the women's world cup just to piss off the haters. 🤷‍♀️
18 notes · View notes
silverwhittlingknife · 6 months ago
Text
The Bats Are Fighting (Distaff Edition)
some conflicts I enjoy:
Babs is pretty hostile/judgy toward Helena at first & is bitterly upset and hurt when Helena starts wearing a Bat costume - apparently a Batgirl costume - without asking her. Later on, Bruce chases Helena out of the costume, and Babs gives Cass the Batgirl costume with her explicit blessing. Helena and Cass never have a rivalry over this exactly, but I don't think they ever really get along, either
Babs and Helena eventually make up when Babs lets Helena join the Birds of Prey but it's rocky in the beginning - Babs dislikes Helena's methods and doesn't entirely trust her; Helena resents being kept on the outside
Steph is super-impressed by Cass and tries to get her to like her and they eventually get close, but Cass has a pretty low opinion of Steph-as-a-vigilante and doesn't hesitate to boss her around or knock her out, and she's super-hurt by Steph lying to her about what's going on during War Games (probably not unrelated: Cass is the only Bat to blame Steph instead of Bruce after Steph dies)
Babs and Cass get very close but also have tensions because Babs wants Cass to have the 'normal' life that Babs thinks she should've tried harder to have when she was younger, and Cass isn't entirely comfortable with this pressure, plus - this one I think is a bit more well-known - Babs spends a lot of time tutoring Cass and looking after her (awww), BUT ALSO in a tense moment she gets really nasty and harsh about Cass's reluctance to learn to read and calls her "stupid"
Dinah finds Steph REALLY annoying and wants her to stop tagging around after her... until she finds out about Steph's miserable home life, and then she appears like an avenging angel and kicks Steph's dad and his cronies out of the house
Babs decides to work with a guy who tortured Dinah because she thinks he's capable of redemption and Dinah is NOT HAPPY about it
Just generally, Steph and Helena are very much outsiders who don't get brought into the "core" Batfam and who aren't trusted with info like Bruce's secret identity. By contrast, Babs is an insider almost from Day 1 - she may have conflicts with Bruce, but she's also got his absolute trust - and Dinah is as insider as it gets, with a mom who was also Black Canary and a stint on the JLA
other general characterization notes that cause Conflict (TM):
Babs is pretty much a classic Bat - she's got a ton of control issues and she's an instinctively secretive workaholic
Helena is an adult who will kill people if she damn well feels it's necessary and she doesn't appreciate being lectured about it
Steph is a defensive teenage outsider with a bucketload of family problems - deadbeat evil dad! addict mom! - and when she's upset she's got a reckless self-destructive streak
Cass is very much like Bruce in that 1) she is wildly super mega good at fighting, 2) she's an instinctive loner who's comically bad at people AND YET she can nevertheless effortlessly manage to head off to a foreign country for a weekend and have a passionately-felt mutual love affair with some random criminal or something, and then that person dies & she goes home like nothing happened, 3) she cares about other people but completely sucks at communication & when in doubt will just go silent & take off or refuse to have conversations, 4) because she hates talking sometimes she'll just knock you out or hit you so that she won't have to do it, 5) she will spend an entire year planning to have a fight to the death with someone for Reasons and tell no one about it because why would she tell someone
anyway they're all terrible <3
274 notes · View notes
jacksprostate · 9 months ago
Note
f Narrator wanting to murder maim mutilate m marla.. or marla/ male marla and narrator/f narrator worsties/besties. or marla/male marla and tyler… or anything with marla/ male marla..
Marlon called me, interrupted me at work, and he said he had a bruise. He said I needed to come and look at it right away, because he needed to know.
This was him, asking me, pounded flank steak, to look and tell him the nature of his bruise.
Marlon hasn't had health insurance in years, so he tries not to think about it, usually. It's easy, since there's no difference when you have health insurance. It's old hat.
But today, he thought about it.
And he noticed a bruise.
So I'm walking up to the Regent hotel after work, and he's in the lobby in his limp little tank top. He'd call it a wifebeater and imagine himself in place of the wife, I'm sure. I wonder if he isn't cold all the time. Mr. Marlon Singer, such a masochist just so he can show off his skeletal body with all the cigarette burns I have to hear him and Tyler laughing over.
I am Jane's abnormal hemorrhoid development.
He doesn't mention what Tyler and I stole from him, even though I think it was all the cash he had. Even though just three days ago he tried to chase me around the house and beat me with a broom. He made me and Tyler go sleep in the junkyard. Buried under our furs, howling at the moon. Maybe I can't fault him for that.
He couldn't keep it here where the guys he brings back could get at it, he said, and sure. But he should've known better than to tell Tyler about it, because now it's bags upon bags of lye being kept in the driest room in the house.
I work on grinding cracks into my remaining teeth as he grabs his neighbors Agatha and Dianne's Meals on Wheels kits. The delivery lady remarks on what a good young man Marlon must be, helping out these old ladies. Oh, yeah. A real, upstanding, mummified rat of a man. Maybe he helped them into the ditch. He yaps at me the entire walk up to his room, and I don't hear a word as I methodically rip up the skin around Tyler's kiss on my hand with a broken nail. It's been infected since Tuesday, and the ring of puffy red flesh makes the ghost of her lips white like the center of a neon tube. Always buzzing.
We get to his room, he says to me, "One of these boxes is for you, you know."
I think about all the women who bother to use what little time they have to operate charities that keep the poor and destitute alive enough to want to kill themselves. All that time spent cooking mac and cheese en masse and putting little packets of powdered milk next to little cartons of the liquid, like they get at schools and prisons, packets that can only be opened by the nimble fingers of caring relatives these elderly recipients do not have.
Sure.
Tyler told me I need to be eating at least two meals a day, or she'd steal a blender and make me drink raw chicken. So I eat the Meals on Wheels box. Sorry Agatha. I rip open the powdered milk packet, dump it into the carton, hold it closed, and shake it. Twice the calories. A recipe for palliative care.
Marlon's sitting there, quiet, eating Dianne's latest last meal. All the urgency is gone. Sucked dry. He's got pallor like a hospice heart failure. When dogs get treated for heartworms, the worms die, and sometimes, not all of them break apart. Sometimes, there will be thin, dead cords of necrotized nematode strung through their heart waiting for the right beat to fall apart and clot a vital artery. This can take years to happen. Your pet recovers perfectly from treatment until seven years down the line, you give it a doggy cupcake and a pulmonary embolism for its tenth birthday.
Marlon looks like he's had his first melarsomine injection and his owner is thinking about taking him to a dog park instead of bothering with the second. If you let a dog get its heart rate up too high when getting treated for all the parasites you let grow in it, its heart will explode. Or all the worms will clog its lungs. Whichever one it is, it's happening to Marlon here in this room. On this bed.
He says he'd found a bruise, a while back. A nasty little thing, like the crush of a plum under your thumb. Near one of his ankles. And Marlon Singer knew he couldn't afford any novel treatments, and he'd seen too many people rot from the inside out from them already. He did not go to the clinic down the street that gets its windows broken in often enough that there's just big black billowing sails of trashbags over their storefront more often than not. Marlon says he once saw a rat nailed to the door, which is something you'd think would be too neat and poetic for real life. He didn't go to the clinic because he didn't have to. And maybe if he was fucking guys he wanted to he would be a bit more cautious, but the men Marlon Singer gets to fuck are the type to have given him those bruises in the first place. They're the reason there's single mothers visiting that clinic, like half melted wax getting scraped out of the picture. He says he shouldn't feel guilty.
I tell Marlon about where I got the idea for poisoning all the food at the Pressman hotel.
He asks me what I mean by that, and I tell him about my first boss at the company I work for now.
When I first started there, I was selling our cars to companies. Bulk orders for work vehicles. My job was to not fuck up any contracts we already had. Marlon is probably aware, but the type of man involved in that sort of thing, he knows he's got you on a collar and chain. You and him both know he'll be renewing the contract, but you have to do the song and dance for him. Pretend you like how close he gets to you. Pretend you don't want to rip his testicles from his ballsack when he leans in sweaty and tells you how he likes your hair, did you go and do all that just for me?
Because he knows. And you know. But enduring this is what you were hired to do. If you were a man, you would've been hired to create a sense of the old boys club with this guy. But you're not.
There is so much pretense in the world.
Anyway, my first boss, call him Joe — whenever I'd return from those trips and dinners, Joe wouldn't pretend that it wasn't a shit job. He'd commiserate and wish me luck with the next one. He didn't overstep, he wasn't creepy, he kept his distance. The best you could hope for. Thirty days on the job, they asked me how I was doing, and I told them I was doing great. The job was amazing, I felt embraced by the company, my boss was great. One of those things was true to me.
And when Joe got his promotion, for being such a great regional manager, he cornered me in my cubicle and informed me he'd been jerking off into my nicely labeled thin salad lunches each time they showed up in the office fridge. He told me this with the same smile he'd always worn.
Marlon, he's next to me, and he leans closer like we're having a nice little confession. My skin itches.
It was before the 90 day clause kicked in my health coverage, so I had to wait at one of those free clinics like Marlon's, and I was surrounded by a lot of young men, wispy mangled pears. What little flesh was left was soft. When I told the nurse what happened, I watched myself die in her eyes. Dappling up with rashes and bruises until I was all painted and sunken like a bog body.
For the longest time, I wondered if I'd become the oral Mary. How many times I vomited in that office toilet, I don't know. I stopped bringing lunch.
The thing is, I couldn't see it in his face. Joe's, I mean. Not even when he told me. I couldn't see it in anyone. So I stopped eating out. Stopped eating altogether, really.
Marlon, his response was to go to the support groups. His tragedy was that it was a slow death, coming for him. Best to wriggle into the pile of dying bodies, see what it's like. Maybe that could muster enough suicidal impulse.
I tell Marlon, of course, I couldn't go to HR. I was a new hire with no evidence and previous record of liking my boss. I didn't want to tell my mom. I didn't want her to know. Those uncomfortable dinners became absolutely, wretchedly unbearable as I thought about the food I was being forced to share.
When the option came up for a dead end job in the least loved department in the building, I put on the best performance of my life to get the part. Best aspiring Compliance and Liability head and sole department employee, that's me. My new job was to keep secrets. It was, already, old hat.
For months I thought about waking up from a narcoleptic fit at my desk, with Joe leaning over the cubicle wall and asking if I was alright. I watched my stomach like it was nuclear. Every extra second it took until I bled like usual slid me closer to buying myself a shotgun and pumping a slug or two into my brain.
It's an unavoidable fear, I tell Marlon. You can't do anything about it. Once you know, you know. At some point, you have to find the peace in it. Imagine yourself, a balloon popping with meaty chunks flying apart, splattering onlookers and raining viscera.
For a month, six months, I had cancer. Worse than cancer. Every time I eat out, I get it again.
Marlon is looking at me, melting stained glass, drowning in that sort of shared pity you build together with someone who's dying.
I don't want Marlon to feel guilty.
I tell Marlon, that's why I poison the food at the Pressman hotel. Someone's got to do it. Blood in the tomato sauce, spit on the steak. Imagine what you could do to a soup. The men who go to the Pressman hotel, they're the kind that leave Marlon bloody and walking around Paper Street calling for Tyler to come out and burn more holes into him. They're the kind that get promoted from regional manager. They're the kind that lean in close, pull your wrist towards them, and say there's one way they know you could secure the contract renewal. The kind that almost ruin it in a temper tantrum when you don't, resulting in an upper management intervention on the 24th day of your new job. They're the kind that hear that shit and say you should've been more appeasing. More polite.
Don't feel guilty, Marlon.
I hope all of them rot so everyone can see the maggots eating their insides.
Marlon isn't smiling. I am unavoidably bad at distracting him. There's something final in it, when he sighs, and takes off his tank top. He says it's on his back, and I should just tell him.
I look. I see it. Black hole, botfly, necrosis. There's so many things these broken blood vessels could be. Withering, snapping apart like mummified heartworms. I imagine driving the two inch melarsomine needle deep into the muscles bunched upon his spine.
I look.
I press my hands into him, and I grip like I'm trying to rend my fingers through his skin, deep into his body cavity to rip out his guts. Like I'm trying to grab the rope of his small intestine and strangle him with it. Marlon's yelling at me and trying to hit me, arms flapping like a chicken, and I am bruising ten deep circles into the soft pearskin of his abdomen. It's the only place left on him that's mealy, that isn't frayed rope under worn out leather.
I tell him, you've got bruises. They look mostly normal, to me.
Don't worry too much about it.
And Marlon, he leans into me, and I let him.
41 notes · View notes
blackpilljesus · 1 year ago
Text
I dont take moid pandering women seriously because I know it's all an act to survive; from the conservative to the liberal woman. If these women were in a position where society collapsed or they were the only/one of the few women alive - they wouldn't love moids so much then. The worst of worst maIe apologist knows that maIes are dangerous, their actions speak louder than their words.
MaIe apologists preach one thing then do the other. Many of these women pushing women & girls into a lifestyle of hypersexuality and "exploring freaky kinks" in the name of sex liberation aren't having that much sex themselves - if any. Several women who push the "men are superior ugh women should submit to their husbands instead of working!1!" schtick are often single and working themselves or they've got partners the complete opposite of the trad values they preach. Women who talk about how "lonely" moids are never offer themselves up to "help" with moids loneliness, they point at other women -such as sex workers- to do that instead. Libfem-esque women who talk about moids like they're wounded baby lambs that women just need to show more love to would still not trust a lone maIe at night. They'd still have their guard up around maIes but expect women to "trust" xys & not speak bad of them.
I can go on and on but the point is that it all boils down to sacrifice and a performance. Many moid apologists pull the crap they do to virtue signal being "one of the good women" to moids hoping it's not them. They may not all explicitly wish for other women to be harmed - but they dont care either so long as its not them.
76 notes · View notes
feminine-catharsis · 2 years ago
Text
if you think your boyfriend or husband is accepting towards your sexuality but is seemingly not upset by you kissing/undressing/being sexual with a woman, or more accepting to allow you to have relations with a woman as opposed to being upset if you asked to be with a man,congrats. you are being fetishized
334 notes · View notes
thewhizzyhead · 10 months ago
Text
you know when you get a friend that was even more "tomboyish" than you were in your teens and then as the both of you grow up and enter college, you see them explore expressing themselves more femininely and absolutely fall in love with it and with the concept of womanhood - while you on the other hand become all the more estranged with "being a woman" because good God you really don't fucking get it and that seeing your once-tomboyish friend find joy and an emotional connection to womanhood makes you really realize that you have no such connection whatsoever, hence making you feel left behind in actually "becoming a woman"? Anyways what I'm trying to say here is I'm definitely not fucking cis-
#when i told my cis girl classmates that i feel nothing but indifference towards the concept of womanhood or girlhood#they felt really fuckin sorry for me#and i'm like my bros my dudes i dont really give that much of a fuck for something i don't really understand in the first place#like of course i know feminist theory and all that and as someone born a woman i know and experience and study gender struggles deeply#be it with double standards or dealing with gross perverted dudes#that being said - i dont know what being a woman is outside of our shared struggle in patriarchal structures#like when u take away all the shit we definitely need to fight for - what else is there left for me to enjoy on a personal level#and the answer to that is nothing because i never really gave a fuck about gender be it now or as a child#perhaps its due to my upbringing as well na like i was more responsibility minded but still#to see once really tomboyish classmates grow to love being a woman makes me feel lonely because how can i love a concept i cant comprehend#so anyways when i told this dilemma to a nonbinary-questioning friend of mine he jumped with joy because BESTIE SOLIDARITY#and my bro here was never female to begin with and yet he fully understood my disconnect to concepts of gender#and the coming of age rites that come with them like 'nagiging dalaga na talaga' 'ay nagbibinatilyo na to'#so um yea#thats my ramvle for today and my update on my gender crisis#i dont mind being called a woman tho like im used to it and it doesnt unnerve me - but id rather not be like trapped in having to be that#so um woo#personal shit
6 notes · View notes
moodboardsbysarah · 1 year ago
Text
So much of what people call “feminism” is actually just women jealously competing with each other and women lashing out in insecurity at each other… and then trying to blame men for it.
You know, like women do anyway with or without feminism.
3 notes · View notes
suzannahnatters · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
all RIGHT:
Why You're Writing Medieval (and Medieval-Coded) Women Wrong: A RANT
(Or, For the Love of God, People, Stop Pretending Victorian Style Gender Roles Applied to All of History)
This is a problem I see alllll over the place - I'll be reading a medieval-coded book and the women will be told they aren't allowed to fight or learn or work, that they are only supposed to get married, keep house and have babies, &c &c.
If I point this out ppl will be like "yes but there was misogyny back then! women were treated terribly!" and OK. Stop right there.
By & large, what we as a culture think of as misogyny & patriarchy is the expression prevalent in Victorian times - not medieval. (And NO, this is not me blaming Victorians for their theme park version of "medieval history". This is me blaming 21st century people for being ignorant & refusing to do their homework).
Yes, there was misogyny in medieval times, but 1) in many ways it was actually markedly less severe than Victorian misogyny, tyvm - and 2) it was of a quite different type. (Disclaimer: I am speaking specifically of Frankish, Western European medieval women rather than those in other parts of the world. This applies to a lesser extent in Byzantium and I am still learning about women in the medieval Islamic world.)
So, here are the 2 vital things to remember about women when writing medieval or medieval-coded societies
FIRST. Where in Victorian times the primary axes of prejudice were gender and race - so that a male labourer had more rights than a female of the higher classes, and a middle class white man would be treated with more respect than an African or Indian dignitary - In medieval times, the primary axis of prejudice was, overwhelmingly, class. Thus, Frankish crusader knights arguably felt more solidarity with their Muslim opponents of knightly status, than they did their own peasants. Faith and age were also medieval axes of prejudice - children and young people were exploited ruthlessly, sent into war or marriage at 15 (boys) or 12 (girls). Gender was less important.
What this meant was that a medieval woman could expect - indeed demand - to be treated more or less the same way the men of her class were. Where no ancient legal obstacle existed, such as Salic law, a king's daughter could and did expect to rule, even after marriage.
Women of the knightly class could & did arm & fight - something that required a MASSIVE outlay of money, which was obviously at their discretion & disposal. See: Sichelgaita, Isabel de Conches, the unnamed women fighting in armour as knights during the Third Crusade, as recorded by Muslim chroniclers.
Tolkien's Eowyn is a great example of this medieval attitude to class trumping race: complaining that she's being told not to fight, she stresses her class: "I am of the house of Eorl & not a serving woman". She claims her rights, not as a woman, but as a member of the warrior class and the ruling family. Similarly in Renaissance Venice a doge protested the practice which saw 80% of noble women locked into convents for life: if these had been men they would have been "born to command & govern the world". Their class ought to have exempted them from discrimination on the basis of sex.
So, tip #1 for writing medieval women: remember that their class always outweighed their gender. They might be subordinate to the men within their own class, but not to those below.
SECOND. Whereas Victorians saw women's highest calling as marriage & children - the "angel in the house" ennobling & improving their men on a spiritual but rarely practical level - Medievals by contrast prized virginity/celibacy above marriage, seeing it as a way for women to transcend their sex. Often as nuns, saints, mystics; sometimes as warriors, queens, & ladies; always as businesswomen & merchants, women could & did forge their own paths in life
When Elizabeth I claimed to have "the heart & stomach of a king" & adopted the persona of the virgin queen, this was the norm she appealed to. Women could do things; they just had to prove they were Not Like Other Girls. By Elizabeth's time things were already changing: it was the Reformation that switched the ideal to marriage, & the Enlightenment that divorced femininity from reason, aggression & public life.
For more on this topic, read Katherine Hager's article "Endowed With Manly Courage: Medieval Perceptions of Women in Combat" on women who transcended gender to occupy a liminal space as warrior/virgin/saint.
So, tip #2: remember that for medieval women, wife and mother wasn't the ideal, virgin saint was the ideal. By proving yourself "not like other girls" you could gain significant autonomy & freedom.
Finally a bonus tip: if writing about medieval women, be sure to read writing on women's issues from the time so as to understand the terms in which these women spoke about & defended their ambitions. Start with Christine de Pisan.
I learned all this doing the reading for WATCHERS OF OUTREMER, my series of historical fantasy novels set in the medieval crusader states, which were dominated by strong medieval women! Book 5, THE HOUSE OF MOURNING (forthcoming 2023) will focus, to a greater extent than any other novel I've ever yet read or written, on the experience of women during the crusades - as warriors, captives, and political leaders. I can't wait to share it with you all!
30K notes · View notes
swagging-back-to · 1 year ago
Text
my fucking roommate yalll she seriously cnnot go five seconds without starting shit with me
0 notes
taliabhattwrites · 3 months ago
Text
The Sexed Regime, or: You Probably Have the Wrong Critiques of "TME/TMA" Terminology
Let's begin by looking at an interesting dichotomy.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
There's an oddly pervasive idea in queer spaces that a truly progressive trans or post-gender politic underscores the irrelevance of sex. In contrast to patriarchal society's utter fixation on "natal sex", queer existence must be transcendent, a space in which one's bodily configuration is understood to be entirely under one's purview, where presentation is simply something we inhabit and implies nothing about our sexualities or embodiments. It is an idea of emancipation rooted in agnosticism, an anti-patriarchal revolution spurred by the lack of belief in our cissexist society's deranged emphasis on knowing what's in our pants at all times.
It's a very appealing idea, I'll admit.
Here's the thing, though.
The naturalization of sex is the foundation of patriarchy, as well as the basis of the heterosexual regime it instantiates. Humanity is cleft in twain, with one sex marked for reproductive-sexual exploitation by the other. Like most other regimes, this one is also powered by belief--belief in the superiority of the 'male sex', the unfitness of the 'female sex', and most of all: absolute belief that sex is immutable, exhaustively binary, and non-overlapping.
What this also means, ultimately, is that those of us who dare to desert the sex we were conscripted into face different pressures and violence. It is obvious that many trans people are also subject to reproductive injustice, as cis women are, and consequently the transphobia they face is very acutely a regendering impulse, a patriarchal desire to drag them back to the confines of womanhood to fulfill their patriarchal purpose. There is, understandably, a certain amount of solidarity between cis women and trans people who have suffered these aspects of the heterosexual regime.
This is in fact the understanding that gives rise to even liberal-progressive uses of 'male socialization' directed at transfems. Trans women are understood to have been spared certain excesses of misogynistic violence and therefore expected to see and approach the world differently. It is simply a neutral observation, of course, no judgment behind it ... well, until it comes time to deny trans women epistemic authority over experiences of misogyny or womanhood, even their own. After all, can transfems really be said to have a full understanding of patriarchy? They weren't 'raised AFAB'!
Oftentimes, this becomes a double bind of proving that transfems did experience trauma, feminization, and abuse even pretransition, often as children, which is then usually dismissed as "trauma dumping" or "equating womanhood to being abused"--despite the minimization of our experiences being predicated on our "lesser" understanding of the trauma of being "misogyny-affected". So let's not retread that.
Instead, I'll point out that people assume a symmetry, a complementarian equivalence, almost, between the experiences of trans people. What I would like to stress is that there is no such thing as a coherent "AMAB" class or a shared "AMAB solidarity" based on shared experiences of oppression, because I have some shocking news that readers may wish to sit down for:
Trans women are oppressed by cis men.
Cis men are overwhelmingly the ones who rape us, beat us, kill us, and seek to abuse us. When we were children, we were bullied and violated for our perceived effeminacy, largely by the cis boys we were most proximate to. Most of us have been around cis men when they've voiced their most dehumanizing, misogynistic thoughts about women, and have been punished for not participating in these rituals of misogynistic rhetoric, too. The trauma of our upbringing involves being locked into spaces with those who sniffed out our differences, our non-conformance, and routinely punished us for being deviant. When we grow up, they are the ones who largely continue to prey on us.
The chief characteristic of transmisogyny is the presumed artificiality of trans womanhood, the idea that we are mimetics, and our womanhood is a farce, a costume whose only purpose is sexual. This dovetails with our disposability--our inability to be women who can bear children, further patrilineality, and secure what minuscule respectability is afforded to the domestically-confined women who continue the male line. As such, our hyperfetishization marks us for extreme violence, as sexual objects that can be freely used and discarded, guilt-free, because after all ... We asked for it.
Why would we "choose" womanhood if we did not want this?
Which, ultimately, brings me to my point: Sex is a social regime of difference imposed on us, but it is, unfortunately, a regime still in existence. My sex is the basis upon which my womanhood is denied and my disposability justified, because the transfeminized are degendered--we are not, as a rule, provided a path "back" to manhood. Our "effeminacy" ensures that we are 'failed' men, because gender is ultimately hierarchal. Losing status, being unmanned, is frankly trivial, and is what underlies the oppression of queer men--trans men included. Most of us are ultimately subject to some kind of degendering, largely due to how a patriarchal society regards those who defy the reproductive mandate, but transmisogyny is a specific manifestation of degendering that trans women experience.
"TME/TMA" may well be an imperfect categorization--all undertakings in boundary formation are imprecise, though not always violent, given that we need descriptive terms to communicate--but the real issue with it is that it's an overly-ponderous and ultimately clunky terminology for the frank reality that the binary sex imposed on us shapes the contours of the violence we experience. I have never experienced the specific kind of misogyny that sees me as nothing but a broodmare, because I'm a filthy troon, that dehumanized abject thing whose only purpose is absorbing (sexual) violence. Yet the acknowledgment that transfems experience forms of violence that others do not--or sometimes, even the acknowledgment that transfems face violent misogyny at all--is much less forthcoming.
Our struggles are indelibly connected, of course, stemming from the same source and promulgated by the same regime that seeks to define us as nothing more than male property. The shape of each is distinct, however, and because people frequently misunderstand the shape of mine, the idea that my struggles are even connected to theirs, that I experience misogynistic violence homoousian with that which they experience, is frequently dismissed, or considered outright offensive.
This is why I talk and write about transmisogyny, and why more people need to become more familiar with how the naturalization of sex and the regime of heterosexuality under patriarchy necessitates our common struggle.
And unfortunately, in order to properly express these ideas, we do need to talk about the regime of sex.
1K notes · View notes
soulofapatrick · 9 months ago
Text
Protect You - Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader
Tumblr media
Summary: You come into work injured and Hotch accidentally outs your relationship
Words: 1.8K
Warnings: None really
Notes: I honestly don't know where this one came from but enjoy hehe
Y/N’s POV
As I step into the familiar confines of the BAU bullpen, a sigh of relief escapes my lips upon noticing it’s only Spencer present as the others always arrive later. Hotch and Rossi must be holed up in their offices, shielding them from witnessing the bruised left side of my face and the split lip that I’m trying to conceal with my hair, keeping my head down. I would try make-up but they’re profilers, we’re profilers, there’s no point hiding any of it as they’ll work it out. 
Every moment reminds me of the ache throbbing on my face, a constant reminder of the altercation that occurred early this morning. I try to mask the discomfort with a tight-lipped smile, but I know Spencer sees through it the moment his gaze flickers up from the file he’s absorbed in. His eyes widen in concern, and he’s on his feet so fast his chair clatters to the ground, abandoning his document to rush to my side. 
I appreciate his silent understanding, his quick grasp of the situation without needing an explanation. It's moments like these that remind me why the BAU feels like family.
“Hey,” Spencer’s voice is gentle, his concern palpable as he takes in my appearance, eyes flickering over the bruises, assessing whether I need medical or not, “What happened to you?” 
I offer a weak shrug, sliding onto my desk so Spencer can slide into my chair like we usually sit, waiting for Emily, JJ and Morgan to arrive, “Oh just a little accident.” I murmur, trying to downplay the severity of it, though the pain pulses with each word. Spencer raises his eyebrows, scoffing lightly, drawing a heavy sigh from me, I relent, knowing I can’t actually keep it from my best friend, “Jessica might have found me in Hotch’s bed this morning after he left to be here early,” I pause, letting that sink in first, the fact I was in our boss’ bed, “She… well, she punched me and I just left her… she’s still grieving and it’s been just over a year now…” 
Spencer's hand finds mine, a silent gesture of solidarity amidst the chaos. And in that moment, I'm grateful for his unwavering support, his quiet strength anchoring me to reality when everything feels like it's spiralling out of control, “Are you going to tell Hotch?” 
Before I can respond, the authoritative timbre of Hotch’s voice cuts through the air, drawing my gaze towards his office. Instinctively, I turn my head away, a futile attempt to shield him from the truth of what his ex-sister-in-law had down to me. But it’s too late. The damage is already written across my bruised face, a stark reminder of the violence that had erupted in the early hours of the morning. 
Hotch strides into the bullpen, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on me, his expression a mixture of concern and confusion. "Tell me what?" His voice is clipped, demanding answers that I'm not ready to give. Spencer gets up from my chair and moves over to where the coffee station is, staying within hearing distance but giving us enough privacy. 
I swallow hard, feeling the weight of Hotch's gaze bearing down on me like a heavy burden. "It's nothing, Hotch," I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper as I keep my head bowed, unwilling to meet his gaze. But I can sense his skepticism, his unwavering determination to uncover the truth lurking beneath my hesitant words.
Before I can protest further, Hotch grips my chin with a gentle finger and thumb, forcing me to raise my face and meet his gaze. The shock that flashes across his features sends a shiver down my spine, his expression morphing from concern to horror, then to simmering anger barely contained beneath the surface. 
His voice is low, a dangerous undercurrent lacing his words as he practically growls, “Who did this to you?” 
I try to shake my head free from his grip but he won’t let me, cognac eyes full of anger as he searches my face. Every part of my wants to submit to him but I can’t ruin the last bit of Haley he has left by telling him and he finally sighs. He takes a risk and presses his forehead to mine, eyes closing and taking a deep breath before he’s letting me go and taking a step back just as the bullpen doors open. With one final lingering look he turns to the others and tells them to meet him in the meeting room in ten. 
As Spencer intercepts Hotch on his way back to his office, a sense of foreboding settles over the bullpen, amplifying the tension already thick in the air. I watch, heart sinking, as Spencer murmurs something to Hotch, the words lost in the charged atmosphere. Hotch's head snaps up, his entire demeanour shifting in an instant. Even from behind, I can sense the fury radiating off him, a palpable force that sends a shiver down my spine. Whatever Spencer said has stirred a tempest within Hotch, one that threatens to consume everything in its path.
Before I can comprehend the gravity of the situation, Derek's voice breaks through the tense silence, his concern evident in the way he addresses me. "Oh shittt, what happened to you, baby girl?" he asks, his usually jovial tone replaced by genuine worry. 
Spencer slumps back into my chair, his expression somber as Derek rounds the desk to his, drawing Emily and JJ's attention in the process. In moments like these, the boundaries between colleagues blur, replaced by the unspoken bonds of friendship and camaraderie that define us as a team. They crowd around me, their questions a chorus of concern as they inspect the bruises marring my skin. Despite their genuine care, I can feel the weight of their stares, the unspoken questions lingering in the air like a heavy fog. 
Just as I'm about to ask them to drop it, a voice cuts through the chaos, echoing from Hotch's office with a force that silences the entire bullpen. "HOW DARE YOU LAY A HAND ON HER?!" Hotch's voice booms, despite his door and blinds being shut, reverberating off the walls with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt.
A stunned silence settles over the bullpen, the air thick with tension as Hotch's voice echoes through the confines of his office, despite the closed door and drawn blinds. His words hang in the air like a heavy pall, commanding attention and demanding justice. The sudden yelling draws Rossi out of his office, his expression a mix of concern and confusion as he surveys the scene unfolding before him. It's rare to witness Hotch lose his composure, and even rarer to hear him raise his voice with such raw intensity. 
But, as the seconds tick by, the tension in the air becomes almost palpable, a tangible force that hangs heavy around us. We exchange uncertain glances, the weight of Hotch's anger casting a shadow over the once tranquil atmosphere of the bullpen. And then, just as quickly as it began, Hotch's voice rises again, the sound muffled by the closed door of his office. Despite the distance, his words carry with them a sense of finality, a declaration of his unwavering resolve, “I CAN DATE WHO I WANT, YOU DON’T GET TO DICTATE IF Y/N IS GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME.” 
As Hotch's voice reverberates through the closed door of his office, his words cut through the heavy silence like a knife. The weight of his declaration hangs heavy in the air, leaving us all stunned into silence.
Derek's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his mouth slightly agape as he processes the implications of Hotch's words. Emily's eyes widen, a mixture of shock and admiration reflecting in her gaze as she exchanges a quick glance with JJ. Spencer, ever the observer, remains stoic, his expression unreadable as he absorbs the gravity of Hotch's statement. 
The realisation settles over us like a heavy blanket, each of us grappling with the implications of Hotch's unwavering resolve. In that moment, it's clear that he's not just defending my honour; he's asserting his autonomy, refusing to be swayed by the opinions or judgments of others. And as the echoes of his words fade into the background, we're left in a stunned silence, the weight of the moment pressing down upon us like a tangible force. For a brief moment, the chaos of the world outside fades away, replaced by the quiet intensity of the bullpen. 
But our reverie is short-lived as Hotch reemerges from his office, his face flushed with anger and frustration. His gaze sweeps over us, a silent command to gather ourselves and move forward. Without a word, he gestures towards the conference room, his authoritative presence brooking no argument. 
As the rest of the team practically rushes towards the conference room, driven by the urgency of the moment, I find myself lingering behind. The weight of everything that has transpired settles heavily upon my shoulders, anchoring me to the spot as I struggle to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. I remain perched on the edge of my desk, head bowed, my hands suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. The sound of familiar footsteps draws nearer, the rhythmic cadence echoing through the empty space of the bullpen. And then, like a beacon in the darkness, Hotch's shiny smart shoes appear in my line of sight, his presence casting a warm glow against the backdrop of uncertainty. 
He says my name softly, a gentle reminder that I'm not alone in this moment of vulnerability. I lift my gaze to meet his, finding solace in the depths of his unwavering gaze. There's a tenderness in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the tumultuous journey we've embarked upon together. 
In that moment, he looks at me like I've hung the stars, like I'm a goddess deserving of reverence and adoration. It's a gaze that speaks volumes, a silent confession of the depth of his feelings. And then, with a gentle touch, his hand reaches out to cup my unbruised cheek, his touch a balm against the ache of the morning's events. In the stillness of the bullpen, he draws me into a soft kiss, a silent promise of solidarity and unwavering support. In that fleeting moment, time stands still, the chaos of the world fading away as we find solace in each other's embrace. And as we pull away, the weight of the world feels a little lighter, buoyed by the strength of the bond that binds us together.
With a silent understanding, we rise from the tumult of the morning, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead. And as we make our way towards the conference room, hand in hand, I know that no matter what the future holds, we'll face it together, united by the unbreakable ties of love and loyalty.
Tumblr media
Criminal Minds Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023
@guacam011y @rosaliedepp @kajjaka
2K notes · View notes
imthebadguyyy · 3 months ago
Text
I Can Do It With A Broken Heart
Tumblr media
pairing : f1 drivers x reader fandom : f1 synopsis : the grid is there to watch you flourish with a broken heart. warnings : angst and insane amounts of platonic fluff
I can read your mind, "she's having the time of her life", there in her glittering prime.
The press conference room was buzzing with excitement. Cameras flashed, microphones were adjusted, and reporters shuffled in their seats, eager to ask their questions. You sat at the table, the only female driver on the grid, proudly representing Mercedes. Beside you were Lewis Hamilton and George Russell, both offering reassuring smiles as they prepared for the barrage of questions.
The session began with the usual inquiries about strategies, car performance, and race predictions. You answered confidently, drawing on your experiences and expertise. The lights refracted sequined stars off your silhouette every night, making it seem like you were having the time of your life, there in your glittering prime.
But then, a reporter in the back stood up, his tone sharp and probing. "I can read your mind," he began, a smirk playing on his lips. "She's having the time of her life," he quoted, a mocking tone in his voice. "But given the recent incidents, do you think you're emotionally strong enough to handle the pressures of Formula 1, especially as a female driver? Some might say you're struggling to keep up."
The question hit you like a punch to the gut. You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of anger and hurt. How dare he question your strength, your dedication? You squared your shoulders, looking the reporter straight in the eye.
"I can show you lies," you said, your voice steady and strong. "One, two, three, four. You don't get to tell me about sad," you continued, your gaze unwavering. "I've faced challenges and pressures just like everyone else on this grid. My gender doesn't make me weaker or less capable. If anything, it makes me stronger."
The room fell silent for a moment, the tension palpable. But then, Lewis leaned forward, his expression fierce. "We all face immense pressure in this sport," he said, his voice calm but firm. "And she's proven time and again that she belongs here. Her strength and resilience are unmatched."
George nodded in agreement. "She's one of the best drivers I've ever had the privilege to race alongside. Her gender has nothing to do with her capabilities. She's here on merit, just like the rest of us."
Sebastian Vettel, sitting a few seats down, chimed in as well. "Respect is crucial in this sport. We support each other, and we stand by her. She's earned her place on this grid, and nothing can take that away from her."
Valtteri Bottas added his voice to the mix. "We all have our struggles, but it's how we handle them that defines us. And she's handled everything with grace and determination."
Checo Perez, who was at the press conference as well, spoke up. "It's easy to criticize from the outside. But we know what it takes to be here, and she has it all. She's not just a great driver; she's an inspiration."
The support from your fellow drivers warmed your heart. You felt a surge of gratitude and pride. They saw you for who you were—a talented driver, a fierce competitor, and a valuable member of the F1 community.
The reporter, realizing he had crossed a line, shifted uncomfortably and mumbled an apology. The press conference moved on, but the impact of that moment stayed with you. It was a reminder of the solidarity and respect that existed among the drivers, a testament to the bond you shared.
After the press conference, as you walked back to the paddock, Lewis put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You're stronger than any of them know," he said with a smile.
You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. "Thanks, Lewis. And thanks to all of you," you said, looking around at your fellow drivers. "I couldn't do this without your support."
As you prepared for the next race, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you had a team of incredible people standing by your side. And that made all the difference.
Tumblr media
'cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit
The race had been intense, a whirlwind of speed and strategy. You pushed your Mercedes to its limits, navigating the twists and turns with precision and skill. As the only female driver on the grid, you had a point to prove, and today, you were doing just that.
But then, in the final laps, an incident occurred. Another driver made a reckless move, causing you to swerve and lose valuable time. Despite the setback, you fought your way back up, crossing the finish line in third place. The cheers from the crowd were deafening as you made your way to the podium, your heart pounding with a mix of triumph and exhaustion.
Standing on the podium, you felt a surge of pride. You had earned this. But as the ceremony began, an official approached, a somber look on his face. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "but you've been given a penalty for the incident on the track. You've lost your podium place."
Your heart sank, but you quickly composed yourself. 'Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit, you reminded yourself. The decision was unfair, a blatant disregard for the fact that you were the victim of the incident. But instead of letting it break you, you chose to rise above it.
With a defiant smile, you raised your trophy high, celebrating as if nothing had happened. The crowd roared in approval, sensing your silent rebellion against the FIA. You waved to your fans, your expression one of unwavering confidence and determination. You were here to stay, and no unfair penalty could take that away from you.
Lewis Hamilton, standing beside you, exchanged a glance of admiration and support. He knew the situation was unjust, but he also knew you were strong enough to handle it. As you all sprayed champagne, the message was clear: you wouldn't let anyone diminish your achievements.
After the ceremony, as you walked back to the paddock, Lewis was waiting for you. He pulled you into a warm hug, holding you tightly. "You were incredible out there," he whispered, his voice full of warmth and pride. "I'm so proud of you."
You hugged him back, drawing strength from his support. "Thanks, Lewis. It means a lot coming from you."
He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with genuine affection. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You've got the heart of a champion, and no unfair penalty can change that."
Oscar Piastri, who had finished second, gave you a nod of respect as he approached. "That was a tough break," he said quietly. "But you handled it with more class than most could."
You smiled at Oscar, appreciating his support. "Thanks, Oscar. It’s moments like these that show what we're made of."
As you walked away, Lewis kept his arm around your shoulders, a silent but powerful gesture of solidarity. "Remember," he said softly, "we're a team. And we're all here for you."
You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of confidence and camaraderie. "I know. And it makes all the difference."
As you prepared for the next race, you knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges. But with your resilience, the support of your team, and your unwavering determination, you were ready to face whatever came your way. And that made all the difference.
Tumblr media
babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and I did
The season had been a rollercoaster, filled with highs and lows, but you had handled it with grace and determination. As the only female driver on the grid, you constantly faced scrutiny and doubt from the pundits who seemed to neglect your achievements. Every podium finish, every hard-fought point, was downplayed or overshadowed by your male counterparts.
Despite this, you kept your head high. One particular pundit, known for his sarcasm, had once sneered, "You just have to fake it 'til you make it, right?" His dismissive comment stung, but you channeled that frustration into every race, using it as fuel to prove your worth.
Then came the breakthrough. Four consecutive wins. It was a streak that left everyone in awe, and there was no denying your dominance on the track. Each victory was sweeter than the last, a testament to your skill and resilience. But what you relished most was the silence from the pundits who had so often dismissed you.
After your fourth straight win, you stood on the podium, the crowd roaring in approval. You soaked in the moment, knowing you had earned every bit of it. As you descended the podium, your eyes locked onto the group of pundits, including the one who had made that sarcastic remark.
With a confident stride, you walked straight up to them. The surprise on their faces was evident as you approached. You could feel the tension, the unspoken acknowledgment of your triumph hanging in the air.
"You remember that comment you made?" you asked, your voice clear and unwavering. "About faking it until you make it?" You let the words hang for a moment, letting the weight of your achievements settle in. "Well, I did just that. And look where it got me."
Lando Norris, standing nearby, gave you an encouraging nod, his eyes filled with pride. Carlos Sainz, too, offered a smile of respect and admiration. They had witnessed your journey, your struggles, and your victories, and they knew how much this moment meant.
The pundits, momentarily speechless, nodded in acknowledgment. You didn't need their praise or recognition anymore. You had shown the world what you were capable of, and that was enough.
As you walked away, you felt a surge of satisfaction and confidence. The road ahead would still have its challenges, but you knew you could face them with the same strength and grace that had brought you this far. And with every race, you would continue to prove that you belonged at the very top of the sport.
Lando joined you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "You handled that perfectly," he said, his voice full of admiration.
Carlos came up on your other side, grinning. "They won't underestimate you again."
You smiled, feeling the camaraderie and support from your teammates. "Thanks, guys. It means a lot."
As you prepared for the next race, you knew that the future was bright. You had the talent, the determination, and the support to achieve anything you set your mind to.
Tumblr media
lights, camera, bitch smile, even when you wanna die
The Monaco Grand Prix weekend was in full swing, and the glamorous event was bustling with high-profile guests, flashing cameras, and a sea of paparazzi. You, the only female driver on the grid, were attending a high-profile gala, and while the event was supposed to be a celebration, it quickly turned into a showcase of unwelcome comments.
You walked into the venue, dressed in a stunning outfit that was both elegant and bold. However, instead of admiring glances, you were met with snide remarks and superficial comments about your appearance. People were whispering about your body, your outfit, and your presence, making jabs and sarcastic remarks about your place in the spotlight.
“Lights, camera, bitch smile,” you thought to yourself, trying to maintain your composure. Even when you felt like the criticism was overwhelming, you knew you had to keep up a brave front.
Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton, who were both at the event, noticed the uncomfortable atmosphere surrounding you. They were determined to support you and stand by your side.
As you mingled through the crowd, a particularly obnoxious guest made a loud comment, “Nice outfit, but are you sure you’re not just here to be a pretty face?”
The remark stung, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you turned to the person with a sarcastic smile. “Oh, absolutely. I’m just here to make up the numbers. But hey, if looking good and putting up with this nonsense is part of the job, I guess I’m killing it.”
The crowd fell silent, taken aback by your sharp retort. Charles, standing nearby, stepped in with a smile that was equal parts supportive and mischievous. “You know, I think she’s doing a lot more than just looking good. It’s impressive how she handles this kind of stuff.”
Lewis, also by your side, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, and I’ve seen her drive circles around the competition. I’d say she’s got more than enough talent to match that smile.”
The remarks were met with a stunned silence from the onlookers. The shift in tone was palpable, and the crowd seemed to recognize that they had crossed a line. You gave Charles and Lewis a grateful smile, appreciating their support.
As the night went on, you continued to navigate the event with a blend of poise and sarcasm. The comments faded into the background as you enjoyed the company of those who genuinely respected you.
Charles, as you were leaving the event, put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You handled that like a pro,” he said, his tone warm and sincere.
Lewis joined in, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You were amazing out there. Sometimes, all it takes is a little bit of sass to set things right.”
You smiled, feeling a renewed sense of confidence and camaraderie. “Thanks, guys. I’ve learned that sometimes, you just have to give as good as you get.”
As you left the gala, you knew that the road ahead would still have its challenges. But with the support of your friends and the strength you had shown, you felt ready to face whatever came your way.
Tumblr media
im so depressed i act like it's my birthday everyday
The breakup had been brutal. Your boyfriend, a famous tennis player, had ended things in the most public and humiliating way possible. Since then, he’d been making snide comments about you in interviews, trying to tarnish your reputation. Despite the heartache, you continued to show up and perform on the F1 circuit, determined not to let his words break you.
"I'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday every day," you thought bitterly, putting on a brave face for the cameras and the fans. The Monaco Grand Prix was approaching, and as always, the media was in a frenzy. You had a press conference lined up, and you knew that questions about your ex were inevitable.
You took your seat at the press conference, flanked by Lewis Hamilton, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, and Max Verstappen. The room was buzzing with anticipation as the questions started to roll in. It wasn’t long before one of the reporters brought up your ex-boyfriend’s recent comments.
“Your ex has been quite vocal about your breakup, making some rather harsh remarks. How do you respond to that?”
You took a deep breath, feeling the familiar sting of his words. But instead of letting it show, you decided to turn the tables with a sarcastic comment. “Well, he’s clearly got a lot of time on his hands now that he’s not busy winning matches. Maybe he should consider a career in stand-up comedy.”
The room erupted in a mix of gasps and chuckles. Before you could say more, Lewis jumped in, his expression serious. “He’s too stupid for his own good if he thinks he can undermine her. She’s shown more strength and class than he ever will.”
Charles nodded in agreement. “He let a gem slip out of his fingers. His loss is the racing world’s gain.”
Carlos added, his voice full of warmth, “She’s got more talent and heart than he could ever understand. We’re lucky to have her here.”
Max leaned into his mic, a rare smile on his face. “And let’s be honest, she’s the one who’s truly winning. Both on and off the track.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at their support. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”
The bond between you all was palpable. The camaraderie and mutual respect you shared were evident, and the crowd could see it. The reporters seemed taken aback by the united front, realizing they wouldn’t get the reaction they’d hoped for.
As the press conference continued, the focus shifted back to racing, and you felt a sense of relief. You answered questions about your performance, your strategy for the upcoming race, and your goals for the season. With each answer, you felt stronger, more confident.
After the press conference, the guys surrounded you, offering words of encouragement and support. Lewis gave you a reassuring pat on the back. “You handled that perfectly. Don’t let anyone get to you.”
Charles grinned, his eyes full of mischief. “Yeah, and if he keeps talking, we’ll take care of it.”
Carlos laughed. “I don’t think he stands a chance against all of us.”
Max added, his tone sincere, “You’ve got us. We’re in this together.
You smiled, feeling the warmth of their friendship and support. “Thanks, everyone. It means a lot.”
As you prepared for the next race, you knew that with the support of your friends and the strength you had shown, you could face whatever came your way.
Tumblr media
i cry a lot but I am so productive, it's an art
The morning of the race, you found yourself hiding in the bathroom, tears streaming down your face. The pressure of the season, the recent breakup, and the constant scrutiny had finally taken their toll. You sat on the floor, head in your hands, sobbing uncontrollably. "I cry a lot but I am so productive, it's an art," you thought bitterly, trying to pull yourself together.
Outside, the sounds of the paddock were a blur, but the faint knock on the bathroom door was unmistakable. "Hey, you okay in there?" It was Lewis's voice, filled with concern.
You tried to steady your breathing, wiping your tears. "Yeah, I'm fine," you lied, your voice trembling.
The door creaked open slightly, and Charles's worried face appeared. "We heard you crying. Do you want to talk, Speedy?"
Carlos and Max were right behind him, their expressions mirroring Charles's worry. "You don't have to do this alone, Champ," Carlos said softly.
Unable to hold it in any longer, you broke down again. "It's just... everything. The pressure, the breakup, the constant comments... I can't handle it."
Lewis stepped inside, kneeling next to you. "We're here for you, Superstar. You’re stronger than you know."
Max nodded, his usually stern face softened with empathy. "You don’t have to be perfect all the time, Ace. It's okay to have moments like this."
Oscar, who had just arrived, added, "And after all this, we know you’ll go out there and show everyone what you're made of, Rocket."
Their words, their presence, it all felt overwhelming in the best way. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "Thank you, guys. I just... I need to get through today."
Lewis helped you up, giving you a reassuring hug. "And you will, Star. We believe in you."
With their support, you made your way to the grid. The race ahead seemed daunting, but you channeled all your emotions into your performance. Lap after lap, you pushed yourself to the limit, determined to prove to yourself and everyone else that you could rise above it all.
When the checkered flag waved, you had done it. You won the race. The crowd erupted in cheers, but all you could think about was the breakdown you had just hours before. As you climbed onto the podium, flanked by Max and Oscar, you felt a mix of triumph and relief.
During the podium ceremony, the emotions threatened to overwhelm you again, but you managed to keep a brave face. When it was your turn to speak, you decided to lighten the mood. "I cry a lot, but I am so productive, it's an art," you said with a smile. The crowd laughed, appreciating your honesty and humor.
Max and Oscar both hugged you tightly, their support evident. "You did amazing, Lightning," Max whispered.
Oscar added, "We’re so proud of you, Champ."
The three of you stood there, arms around each other, a united front against the world. The bond you shared was clear, and for a moment, all the pain and pressure seemed to fade away.
As you looked out at the cheering crowd, you knew that the road ahead would still have its challenges. But with the support of your friends and the strength you had shown today, you felt ready to face whatever came your way. And for now, that was enough.
Tumblr media
i was grinning like I'm winning i was hitting my marks, cuz I can do it with a broken heart!
The final race of the season was here, and Abu Dhabi was buzzing with anticipation. You stood on the starting grid, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. The breakup, the constant pressure, and the emotional toll of the season had been overwhelming, but you had kept pushing forward.
As the race began, you found your rhythm. Lap after lap, you were grinning like you were winning, hitting your marks perfectly. The focus, the drive, the determination—it all came together. "I can do it with a broken heart," you thought, channeling all your pain into every turn, every straight, every maneuver.
When the checkered flag waved, it was you crossing the line first. The roar of the crowd was deafening as you realized you had just won the World Championship. Tears of joy and relief streamed down your face as you brought your car to a stop. You had done it. Despite everything, you had achieved your dream.
Climbing out of your car, you were immediately swarmed by your team, who lifted you high in the air, cheering your name. Amid the chaos, you saw Lewis and Charles running towards you, their faces lit up with pride and excitement.
As you stood on the podium, the reality of your accomplishment sinking in, you took the microphone for your victory speech. "This season has been the toughest of my life," you began, your voice wavering with emotion. "I’ve been through hell and back. Heartbreak, pressure, and so many nights where I didn’t think I could keep going. But I did. Because I’m stronger than my fears, stronger than my pain."
You paused, looking out at the sea of faces cheering for you. "To everyone who ever doubted me, who said I couldn't make it—look at me now! I was grinning like I was winning, hitting my marks... because I can do it with a broken heart!"
The crowd erupted in applause, and Lewis and Charles were the loudest, hollering and cheering for you. They rushed onto the podium, drowning you in hugs, their pride and love for you evident in their eyes.
Lewis pulled you into a tight embrace. "You did it, Superstar! I knew you could!"
Charles joined in, wrapping his arms around both of you. "You’re incredible, Speedy! We’re so proud of you!
The three of you stood there, holding each other as the celebration continued around you. The bond you shared was unbreakable, forged through countless races, challenges, and triumphs.
As the champagne flowed and the confetti rained down, you felt a sense of peace and fulfillment. Despite the broken heart, you had achieved your greatest dream. And with Lewis and Charles by your side, you knew you could face anything the future held.
This moment, this victory, was yours. And it was sweeter than you could have ever imagined.
Tumblr media
try and come for my job
The afterparty in Abu Dhabi was in full swing. The entire paddock was buzzing with excitement after the thrilling end to the season, and tonight was all about celebration. You had just won the World Championship, and the energy was electric.
Dressed in a dark pink glittery dress, you let yourself get swept up in the festivities. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and everyone was ready to let loose after a long, grueling season. Your team was gathered around you, along with many of the other drivers, all celebrating your incredible achievement.
As the night went on, the mood became more jubilant. Someone handed you a shot, and you raised it high, feeling a surge of adrenaline and joy. The crowd around you cheered as you climbed up onto a tabletop, ready to make a statement.
Holding the shot glass in one hand, you looked around at the sea of faces, all eyes on you. You grinned mischievously, feeling a boldness take over. "Try and come for my job!" you shouted, downing the shot in one go.
The room erupted in cheers and laughter. Lewis and Charles were right there, cheering the loudest, their faces beaming with pride. The moment was captured on video by several people, and within minutes, it was already going viral on social media.
You continued to dance on the tabletop, feeling the music pulse through you. The crowd chanted your name, the energy infectious. Lewis and Charles joined you, clambering up onto the table and dancing alongside you, their arms around your shoulders.
Lewis leaned in close, his voice filled with laughter. "You’re unstoppable, Superstar!"
Charles, grinning from ear to ear, added, "No one’s taking your job, Speedy! You’re the best!"
Max and Oscar were below, cheering and laughing, capturing the moment on their phones. Carlos handed you another drink, shaking his head in amazement. "You’re a legend, Rocket!"
As the night went on, the party showed no signs of slowing down. You felt an overwhelming sense of camaraderie and love from everyone around you. The hardships and struggles of the season melted away in the light of this celebration.
Later, as you finally climbed down from the table, breathless and exhilarated, Lewis and Charles stayed close, their support unwavering. "We’ve got your back, no matter what," Lewis said, his tone sincere.
Charles nodded, his eyes filled with admiration. "You’re a champion in every sense of the word. Never forget that."
You smiled, feeling the warmth of their words. "Thanks, guys. I couldn’t have done it without you."
The night continued, filled with laughter, dancing, and countless toasts to your success. The viral video of you downing a shot and declaring your dominance spread like wildfire, capturing the essence of your fearless, unstoppable spirit.
As the party finally wound down, you knew that this was just the beginning. With your friends and teammates by your side, you were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And for now, you were content to bask in the joy of this unforgettable night.
Tumblr media
a/n : ahhh I've been waiting for this one!! happy reading 🩷 and as always, comments likes reblogs feedback etc is always appreciated 🤍
TAGS
f1 : @ivegotparticulartaste @moon-enthusiast @superlegend216 @theonly1outof-a-billion
ttpd series - @ateezseonghwanot @khaylin27 @imgondeletedis @jj-ever-lovely-jewel @stylestastic
charles : - @chanshintien @eternalharry @janeholt @magicalcowboyarbiter @oneafterdark @leclerc13 @moon-enthusiast @crlsummer @superlegend216 @electrobutterfly @formula1mount @f1lover20 @livsters @inkfable @ssararuffoni
517 notes · View notes
cxrsed-angel · 1 year ago
Text
Cheer Skirt Misap: Hazel Callahan x Reader Smut
Tumblr media
word count: 1k
summary: Hazel finds your new cheer uniform attractive. Particularly the skirt and how short it is.
Warnings: Oral (r receiving), Hazel is an ass girl, slight spanking, hazel doing sexual activities when’s she probably shouldn’t be. After that fight. Reader is more feminine. 18+ MDNI
A/N: I watch bottoms 2 months ago and i haven’t stopped thinking about her and ruby cruz since, so here’s this. Also reader is a cheerleader. I wish I could come up with a clever title. Also Hazel gives me service top vibes.
Tumblr media
Hazel is sitting on your bed. She’s trying to listen to whatever you are talking about, but she can’t focus on anything besides how hot you look in your new cheer skirt. The skirt is white with blue and red on the bottom, falling just above your thigh. You had gotten the new uniforms for the big game against Huntington. She watches you move around your room, getting ready for the game, her eyes lingering on your legs and how short the new cheer skirt seemed compared to the old ones. 
“Pj was such a dick the other day. I mean, saying that about your mom was so out of line, babe, and I mean, you didn’t make a fake fight club to have sex with cheerleaders. You actually cared about female solidarity and everything. And you’re literally dating a cheerleader on your own accord without lying-“
You pause your rant about PJ, turn around, and see Hazel sitting in your bed, staring at the lower half of your body. It’s clear she isn’t paying attention. You walk closer to your bed and see her bruised face from the fight at the pep rally. You frown, knowing she probably had some sort of concussion that was making it hard to focus.
“Hazel? Hazel, are you okay…do you need to lie down? Am I talking too fast?”
Hazel looks up at you with her blue eyes bruised black and purple, but they’re still big and bright as she looks at you. 
“I-um, no, I was just thinking about something else.” 
You sit beside her on your bed, your thighs touching hers in her black jeans. Hazel's eyes linger on your upper thighs again before tearing her eyes away. She feels her heart beating faster in her chest, trying not to stare at your legs, trying to ignore the ache in between her thighs. She feels a bit guilty being so turned on as you look at her, so worried and concerned. 
“Oh? Thinking about what?” You see Hazel look a bit flustered at your question, and you relax a bit. You could tell it wasn't something bad, but you were still intrigued about what was on her mind. 
“Um. I was just thinking about you and how you look cute in your cheer skirt,” she tells you the truth partially, slightly nervous and embarrassed to admit that your skirt had turned her on so much. 
You smile at the compliment. “Oh, thanks, babe! We got new cheer uniforms since it's like the biggest game ever, but they are a bit shorter.” You get off your bed and look at the skirt through your mirror. It’s a few inches shorter than your usual cheer skirt. You thought you got the wrong size at first, but they just ended up being that short. “I'm glad we were shorts underneath, or I would literally flash the crowd.” 
Hazel smiles, laughing a bit at your comment, eyes still gazing at your lower half. “Well, it looks really good on you. Maybe shorter skirts make you more aerodynamic, help you fly up higher or something.” 
 Hazel suggests innocently when she knows thats probably not the reason your skirt is so short it's almost showing your ass considering your team’s pep rally performance.  You laugh a bit, smiling at her reasoning. 
“I really don't think that’s the reason, baby.” 
She toys with the bottom of your skirt lightly as she continues. “No, I think it is! Maybe it could help with the-the air and going up and-and flips and stuff because there less..fabric?” 
Hazle tries to justify but fails, making you laugh more. You find her attempt cute, though. Her blue eyes linger on your thighs again, gazing at them before she pulls you onto her lap by your hips, quickly kissing your lip-glossed lips suddenly. You suck in a sharp breath at the unexpected kiss, closing your eyes and melting against her the familiar feeling of her lips. You feel Hazel’s hands grasp your hips tighter as she kisses your lips, pressing against each other. Your arms go around her neck.
You break apart from the kiss slightly, looking at the playful smile on her lips and her face flushed and red, her eyes wide as she looks back. You can tell she’s turned on, and if her gaze didn’t give it away, her hands creeping up under the skirt did. 
“You’re really happy over these aerodynamic skirts, huh?” you smile at her, knowing that was not the reason she couldn’t keep her hands off you. You could tell it was because of how the shorts showed off your legs and a bit of your ass. 
Hazel pulls you against her passionately. Your lips crash together, kissing you again. She pulls you by your hips back on top of her. You feel her hands lightly moving down your back. She can’t keep her hands off of you, but you move your lips off slowly as you realize how things are progressing. You stare at Hazel, hesitant when you remember.  
“Hazel…are you sure you can do…more strenuous activities? You know you were beat up pretty badly, babe.” you look concerned as you sit up, moving off of her. You move off from on top of her and sit back on your bed. 
She nods excitedly like there is no problem, like she didn’t get the shit kicked out of her the other day and is perfectly okay. 
“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s fine. I’m like almost 100% better anyways.” Hazel tries to sound sure, but you can tell she isn’t. You nod, still not fully unconvinced. You saw the fight and know she had taken quite a beating, and the last thing you wanna do is make it worse by having sex. 
You pause, thinking for a moment before speaking again. “Babe, I really don’t think we should be doing anything. Plus, we have to be at the football game in like an hour.” Hazel nods, pouting her lip a bit as she thinks. You watch her fidget with her silver rings as she thinks of a solution, clearly not taking no for an answer. 
“Oh! Wait, wait, I got it.” Hazel looks excited, her blue eyes excited. She lays down on your bed. “I’ll just eat you out.” You pause, thinking for a few minutes about her solution,  
“I don’t know Hazel…what about you-”
 She cuts you off, hungrily kissing your lips as they press against hers. She cups your cheek and slips her tongue in your mouth. You melt instantly, feeling that warm feeling you get every time you kiss. After making out for a few minutes, you feel her pull away, your head a bit dizzy from the kiss.
“Please let me eat your pretty pussy. I promise I’ll be fine,” Hazel begs as she looks at you, slowly rubbing circles on your hips. Her words go straight to your core, turning you on.  
You look at her and give in, unable to resist her big blue eyes. “Fine, but you’re stopping the second you get dizzy or something feels off.” Hazel nods as her grip on your waist tightens as she looks up at you excitedly. 
She pulls your black lacey underwear from under your cheer skirt and throws them somewhere off in your room. You lean down and cup her face with her face, your lips crushing onto hers again, making out. Hazel moves her hands down, lightly squeezing your ass. Her lips linger, touching against yours as she looks up at you. 
You move, placing your hips over her face. You look at her as she stares back excitedly. You slowly lower yourself on her lips and waste no time licking around your wet and puffy folds. She licks along your lips slowly, and you gasp at the feeling of her tongue. She continues moving her tongue as you try to hold your hips, trying not to thrust them, Hazel’s injuries still in the back of your mind. You moan out her name as she sucks on your clit. 
“Fuck Hazel, please don't stop.” you close your eyes, grabbing the side of her sheets and slowly rolling your hips against her lips. 
She grips your ass under your cheer skirt, squeezing it. Her tongue slips inside your entrance, and your moan grows louder as her motions speed up slightly, eating you out like she’s starved. Your face grows hotter as you feel the arousal building; you feel yourself getting wetter under her touch. She places a smack on your ass, and you moan, not expecting to like it as much as you did.  
“Fuck, baby! I'm close!-yes, right there! Fuck Hazel!” 
Your back arch letting out a breathy moan as your orgasm gets closer. You thrust, moving your hips faster as she swirls her tongue around your swollen clit. You feel yourself coming undone as your orgasm hits. Cumming around Hazel’s lips. You breathe deeply and slowly move from on top of her, sitting in your bed. Hazel sits up, her chin wet and lips swollen. 
You look at her, wiping your wetness off her lips. “How do you feel? Are you dizzy, or do you have a headache?” 
Hazel smiles and shakes her head. You nod, still catching your breath. You feel her hand on your thigh, rubbing it softly, feeling her cold rings on your skin. 
“Yes, I’m fine; never been better.” She beams, happy from her previous activities. You kiss her lightly before standing up to finish getting ready for the game against Huntington. Hazel leans against her arms, watching you in your bed. 
“But after I feel better, I’m gonna have to fuck you in that skirt.” you turn around at her words, a bit shocked at how bluntly she put it. 
“Oh? You are. And eating me out while I'm wearing it isn't enough?” Hazel shakes her head lightly. 
“No. I mean, it's good enough for right now, but the thought of watching you bounce on my strap in that cute little skirt is making me feel a bit foggy and extremely turned on.” 
You nod as you return to putting on your makeup for the game. “Well, get a doctor’s note, and we can make that happen.”  
1K notes · View notes
feminine-catharsis · 2 years ago
Text
my blog is mostly centered around radfem content with the occasional husband or mental health post so when i see ladies with names that dont have obviously radfem names and profiles with no visible radfem content im like :33 yes :33 my hidden sisters
6 notes · View notes
1117feverlessdreams · 2 months ago
Text
* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*
Tumblr media
* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*
PAIRING: OnlineSeonghwa! x CollegeFemReader!
🐰📍SUMMARY: We all get pent up in sexual stress time and time again, and you’re no different. The measures you resort to however may be unusual. You decide to take your issue to the internet and masturbate with a stranger online. A stranger you haven’t met yet.
🐰📍WARNINGS: masturbating obvi, p in v penetration, sadism, cursing, fingering, code names, safe word, reader gets called bunny and darling, and during the deed, slut.
🐰📍WORD COUNT: 8.2k
🐰📍A/N: This story is literally a years work in progress, and by that I mean it’s been sitting in the drafts a quarter of the way done. I don’t know where this was headed a year ago, but these things may happen for a reason…
If you’re being honest…
you have been overly horny, and out of your mind lately!
In the midst of a history essay that is due very soon, you ignorantly minimize the web tab to look for ’free internet accessed relief.’
It was the period of your ovulating phase, so your hormones were shot up so high that you’d do anything to deescalate the throbbing pain between your legs.
It’s only been an half hour of working, and your rolling desktop chair’s leather began to feel gummy underneath your sweltered thighs.
The whole concept of piling on homework before finals week is something you could never comprehend with professors. Not only did it provide you a heavy workload, but them as well, and you’re not their only student.
You wish your roommate was here to tough things out with you. But she had told you on a consistent basis for the past month about this business presenting competition she’s in. She had religiously met up with her group everyday to perfect each element in their project, and deservingly made it to finals.
As this would be her last night before the final presentation against other students from other states in your country, she decided it would be best for the team to spend the night together.
Even though it didn’t comfort you in your solidarity-your body is grateful for her decision.
‘Maybe a YouTube boyfriend audio would do the trick.’ a recurring thought voiced inside your head. A soothing, deep, and attractive voice to guide you while he instructs to touch yourself when he wanted, and in the way he wanted.
A multitude of many minutes pass with your hand dove deep into your underwear, and onto your mound. You recognize your frustration only began to build as none of the videos you played online truly turned you on.
In fact you found it better when you turned the video off, and went at it yourself in the eerie silence of your apartment. Nevertheless, the awkward silence just make you feel more…awkward.
‘Maybe a video of a guy masturbating on any random porn site could help?’ I just have to find the right size, someone who’s my type, a pretty enough looking dick, and most importantly…a guy who moans melodiously through my headset.
You were beginning to think you were being picky when you couldn’t find a single video through twenty three pages. Although, you did manage to find your perfect guy at one point through it all-
You were wet and nearing the very edge, until you heard his climax- the sounds of what you heard to echo a dying horse.
Your persistent inability to relieve yourself made you think going to bed high and dry was a reasonable option. You just hoped the throbbing sensation would be gone when morning came.
It was plenty enough that you were overwhelmed and exhausted by all the work that’s consuming you, and you didn’t want to exert more energy in your poor findings.
You backslide in your chair from your pc setup, analyzing the screen and eye boggling through all the oddly named titles in a random porn site. The longer you looked the more you grew disgusted at the bothering mass of female degradation, and vulgar images of the most kinkiest kinks.
It’s something you’re used to when you visit these sites, and you hate it…yet you keep coming back.
You push your mouse toward the red x in painful shame to finish the last page of your essay off. It was simply a conclusion of what you said in previous pages.
There is apathy in the way you take your time dragging the cursor to the right corner. Just as your nearing its edge, a box grows in a highlighted beam. Like a miraculous messenger that greets you before you give up on your last hope.
It was ad feature on the website that you hadn't exactly explored yet. The ad banner read: ‘Click here to meet sexy hot masturbating adults near you!’ 18+ flashes on the side of the words with neon LED lights, and in GIF media, a man and woman on webcam rubbing themselves off with gaping mouths and wide eyes.
It would be something you would’ve previously consider if it weren’t for the fact that the strangers were near you. The local area was your college campus, a second home, and recognizing familiar faces is something you wouldn’t be able to come back from.
You’ve clicked it before just out of pure curiosity, and the link sent you to the site as promised, but the downfall for you was the requirement to make an account.
The old you from an half hour ago would’ve click the left arrow in the upper left corner and keep searching in disparity. Yet the you now is in deep contemplation, shivering at the slick beneath you on your gaming chair.
You had been grinding back and forth, and even rolling your hips for a deeper arousal. The sensation made it easy to direct your self to the the sign up page and create a profile for user StrawberryBunny1024.
Luckily for you, you’d been given the option of how close the strangers could be. It was a fairly broad spectrum you personally selected from surrounding states and regions. You’d imagine it’d be anyone’s nightmare to match with a former classmate.
With one disadvantage displaced you were thrilled to match with someone who’d shared some fiery electric orgasms with you tonight.
That was until you realized…you actually are required to turn your camera on.
You look at the screen mocking your distraught state with a, “video on please!” In honesty, you aren’t the camera shy type. However what would be captured frightened you…your bare body in all its entirety. In addition to your flustered face.
It’s the internet after all, and digital footprint is a real thing. You wouldn’t want to sabotage your chances of reaching graduation in your senior year.
Besides that point, you turned your camera on because it wouldn’t let you forth without it. A green dotted oval scans your face and a check mark approves of your identity.
Once you are let in, boxes with summarized profiles flash in your face, and a randomized match is made with someone in your selected areas. You’re quick to put on a sexy pink kitsune mask you sported in with your friends on Halloween last year.
Several minutes pass by and you already been put through the wringer. It was either you got skipped, or the guys you matched with were so forceful, and explicitly demanded you to show your pussy right then and there.
There is, once again, a pause in the randomizing. The video buffers to retain quality, but then it fully loads. The audio pitches in right after you scramble to hide further beside your chair. You find that to be the best strategy to elevate suspense. That way you could analyze the person in secret to find out what if you like them, and then you’d reveal yourself.
To your utter disbelief, the most etheral-magical- androgynous, gorgeous, princely being you’ve seen in your many days of living gave your knees a reason to not ache anymore. The prized guy to your desire’s name was…marsskywalker8.
“Hello darling, why are you hiding from me?” A masculine and soothing voice inquires, “I can’t get off to a gaming chair.” He smiles as he finds you peeking on the ground. There was nothing better in this world than a good looking man with a nice set of teeth. “I would do that in my own privacy if that was the case.”
You peer in closer with both eyes, fascinated by the way he just sits there with his face zoomed in, dapper in a black tank top-pleasantly relaxed-seated back fully in his seat-smiling as he notices your hesitation.
“Sorry... this is my first time. I never clicked on one of those…”, your voice drops in volume when you think of the right term to call this online masturbating FaceTime. “Ad thingies.”
“Ah, I see.” He smirks at the innocent nickname you've given your- ‘cyber interaction’.
He falls slightly forward to laugh playfully in a moment of silence which tears you in two. The blissful sound only made you want to cower more and hide. When he rises up again he combs his curtain bangs through his fingers, and what remains is a smile that never fell.
Suddenly a mic is brought down from his right side of the screen. In which his slender fingers engulf so tenderly. “Well…because you are new to this-the first thing you’d do is to show that you are actually human by placing yourself in the camera frame.”
Incidentally, you wave your finger up and center in the cameras view out of annoyance. You yank it down and became frightsome until you realized you’ve proved that you are in fact real, and human. “I know that! I just- it’s weird staring at myself doing…that.”
“Who says you have to put your face in the camera darling? All you have to do is drag your video to the side so you can’t see.” A lower grade of his voice in octave with the mic accessory sprinkled tingles down your spine. “Just be sure to point it down to your pussy. That’s all I need to get off.”
“O-okay.” You place the pad of your thumb over the camera, and rise above the rolling chair slowly. “I’m getting in frame now.” You continue covering the camera while you point it down to your soiled underwear.
He leans into his mic set up. “I’m sorry.” he chuckles, smoothing his hand over his face so he doesn’t smile. The man holds his face in his hand, purely amused about the whole situation. “Where are my manners? My alias name is Mars. Do you have a name you like to be called-Mrs.StrawberryBunny?”
“Yes…I do.” You look between the miffy doll by your desktop and strawberry themed set up you’ve decorated. “Bunny will work just fine.”
“Sounds perfect Bunny. It’s suits you.”
As does mars for you, because you look so otherworldly.
As you intake a deep breath, the pad of your thumb peels off the camera lens. Mars irises darken, and his eyelids lower with lust. “Are you ready for me Bunny?”
“Yes. I am now.”
He wets his plump lips, pulling out his frame to be larger and revealing his skin tight black boxers. “Just watch what I do, and listen to what I say. Mars is gonna help you cum Bunny, is that okay?”
“Yes, it’s okay Mars. I’m ready.”
You began to think submission is something Mars is into as he smirks in delight. “She likes what she sees. Does she have a name?”
“My name, again? it’s-
“No, her. Your friend covered in pink silk.”
Your body heats up when you realize he’s referring to your vagina. “I-I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Awe…what a shame. I have a friend here named Saber that’s very excited to meet her. If she’s willing to introduce herself of course.”
“Yes of course, um, I just came up with a badge it’s…” you look upon the mask you held to your face previously. “Kitsune.”
“Like the sly majestic japanese fox?”, he says intrigued. You nod slowly, regretting your top-of-the-dome thinking. “Oh my… she’s gorgeous.” He leans back and nibbles on his finger between his pretty teeth. Even more so, he gives you a nice view of his semi hard cock.
“I think Saber here thinks so too. Perhaps they should get aquatinted with one another? What do you say Bunny? Would you like to meet him as well?”
“Yes…I would love to.” Your eagerness makes Mars-or rather Saber twitch in his boxers, hardening his erection.
Mars lightly gestures the in between of his thighs. “As usual, he’s a very stand up guy.” An accidental burst of giggles come out of you mouth, and causes your visible lower half to shake. “How charming…Bunny has a sense of humor?”
“Of course I do. I told you, I’m not a robot.” You look at the screen as you wait for a response, but he just continues his mischievous smirking.
“Ice breakers help past the awkward phases. As do play dates. Let’s play with one another Bunny.”
Your breathing grows heavy in anticipation, willing to put keen effort to get what you needed. You clear your throat, preparing it to communicate in a seductive, sex-ridden voice. “What would you like to play Mars?”
“I think it’s a game we all know very well. The one you and I play with our friends here when it’s just you and them. Are you familiar Bunny?”
“…” You nod your head until you realize he can’t see your upper half at all. A thumbs up is what you provide for affirmation.
“I thought so.”
“I’d like to add a twist with Simon says. But it will be Mars says of course, and Bunny says. Does that sound fun darling?”
“Indeed it does. Would you like to do the honors of going first?”
His smile stretches and he tilts his head, chuckling in amusement. “Well of course. I have yet to teach you how it’s done after all.” He grabs his microphone from the right side again. “Mars says, rub your hands up and down your inner thighs.”
In the direct following of his command, you trace your hands up and down, breathing heavily from the small stimulation as you gain close to your heat.
“Good girl. Now, it’s your turn, and you can’t stop what you’re doing until it is your turn again, and I give you different directions. Understood?”
“Yes mars.” Your voice nearly whimpers in the end. It’s so strange how being told to touch yourself feels different than touching yourself at will. “Bunny says… lean back…lift your shirt…and touch all over your torso.”
He of course is best at his own game. Following your command without a world of trouble. His face remains neutral.
“Nicely done Bunny, I see you understand the rules of the game.”
He leans over on his desk, his lips brushing over the head of the microphone. “Mars says…set the crotch of your panties to the side, and rub onto Kitsune’s outer lips.”
You’re relieved to not torture yourself anymore, but now you were revealing a more intimate part of yourself full on. You began to rub softly, and even so it still makes you quiver. You had to get him back.
“Bunny says…massage into Sabers sack, and only through your underwear.”
He does so and throws his head back softly as it lands on a cushion. “How cruel of you Bunny.” He tilts his head back at the camera, and wet strands of dark hair falls over his face. “Mars says rub onto your clit… and do it quickly.”
Your hips buck up in the air from the instant contact. “F-fuck.” You muttered. But you keep your sportsmanship in tact. Obeying the rules of the game. “B-bunny says…bunny says….”
“What does Bunny say darling?” His voice becomes deeper and torturous. Hauling you in further into pleasure.
“Bunny says to reach inside of your underwear…touch onto Saber’s head…a-and rub your thumb up and down the middle. Quickly!”
A grunt sounds out as soon as he began to put his ministrations to action. There’s nothing but a mix of moans, whimpers, and groans between the both of you.
“Ungggh…Bunny, darling I-“
You flutter your eyes open and whine when your legs began to quake, nearing the long awaited ending. “Yes, Mars?”
“Does your friend have any toys you like to share together?”
“You mean like…augh…my dildo?”
“Yes. That’s perfect bunny. Mars says go get your dildo, and wait for my next command.”
“Fuck, Mars please. I need to cum.”
“You will darling I promise, I’m close too. Just do I say, and I’ll get you there.”
“Let me just cover the camera first.” He nods in approval painfully continuing your cruel command. You press your thumb over the lens and lean over to toss your thrown oversized tee onto the camera.
You rummage through the shoe box under your bed, flinging out your clear toy dildo.
You sit back down in your chair unto the sweat that has gone cold, but it soon warmed up again with what was pouring from you now. Mars tucked his lips releasing them from time to time and pant short breaths of air.“I’m back Mars…are you alright?”
“Yes but, just… please! He beckons with a weakening voice. “Do your Simon says.”
“Oh right, Sorry! Bunny says you can take a rest.”
He throws his hand in the air, twitching from an approaching orgasm. “Mars says we can take a rest from this game as well. There’s something else I want to try with you darling.” He turns his chair to face front again, making unmoving eye contact.
“With this being your first time, I’m guessing you got so sexually frustrated that you resorted to this as a last choice…and you want to cum so badly right now right?”
“I’ve tried everything mars, and nothing I did made me as wet as I am now. Thanks to you.”
“I wouldn’t thank me just yet. There’s plenty more to come.” He gives you a small smile before moving out of frame. A few seconds later he comes back with a pocket pussy in hand.
“The prices I would pay just to feel you right now.” He grabs a bottle of lube which was growing sticky in his pre-cum with every touch. “Hold that for just a minute darling.” Mars pours the small remainder in the bottle on his cockhead. He hitches his breath as it twitches from the cool contact.
You can only watch there stunned, sitting there, hand limp in carrying the clear dildo.
“We can see each other right? But there’s limitations on what we can feel.” Mars rubs his hand over himself thouroughly from the base, then the shaft, and to the tip. He even treated you a bit, adding the gloss to his lower abdomen. “So let’s just pretend hmm? Your soaking wet pussy, and my long hard dick.”
He begins to hover the pocket pussy over his cock, and you do the same with your dildo. You had a natural lube good enough that sticky webs formed between your fingers.
You use some of it to cover the dildo, providing yourself as much slip as possible. “You are so hard hwa, I don’t think you can bear it any longer, just fuck me.”
“Fuck, you’re such a slut Bunny. Talking to me like you’re in control.” He hovers the pocket pussy over himself closer, waiting for your cue.
“Push my cock all the way in, and put that pussy juice to good use for me darling, I know you can take it.”
You push it in with no time wasted, and your toes curl within every hilt. It slipped so deep you felt it nearly bypass your cervix. “You’re so deep, and you feel so good.” A long drop of your cream spills from your hole to the underside of the dildo.
Mars’s adam apple bobs hardly as he watches it cascades down on the sides, coming to a full shiver when it hits your floor. “Mars?” He tilts his head up and smiles when he sees you obediently trying to keep the dildo inside you as it began to lose friction against your slick.
“Yes darling I’m here, go on, fuck on your dildo like good little slut.” He begins to play pump his his toy halfway down his girth, twisting it in a 180 degree motion and back.
As soon as you began to follow, you fall apart easily. Whining and crying for your dear life. “More. Call me more names Mars, I love it. I love being your good little slut.”
“Who knew you had a thing for being degraded from how shyly you spoke when I tried to get you into a camera. Now look at you, crying over dick as you beg to be called a slur. What a dumb little toy you are.” he grunts.
You take the pleasure from that as an opportunity to twist the tip of the dildo into your hole, shuddering as it grazes over your sweet spot. “Please keep talking, I’m so close hwa!”
“Fuck your naughty. Let me shut you up. Go faster darling- all I want to hear is you cry for mercy.”
He begins to speed up his fist, tip to base. He tries to maintain contact with you to elevate your high, but it looks like he’s fighting sleep from how often his eyes roll in the back of his head from the overwhelming pleasure.
“Ah fuck, fuck fuck. I can’t- hwa, it’s too fast, I can’t keep up.”
Mars laughs loudly without hesitation-right in your face. “Oh shut up, you whore. You could keep up with your dirty talk. Don’t act like you didn’t do this to yourself dear. Now, I want you to go even faster.”
“Yes sir, m’sorry sir.” You proceed to go even faster, squirming and squinting in your chair as you resist the urge to pull out from the too good feeling of overstimulation.
Mars is on the other side of the camera breaking out heaves of sweat from his head to the curved v lines on his hips. He finally submits to closing his eyes and smiles widely like he’s passing into the next promised paradise of life.
“Wait, oh Mars-fuck!” The camera heightens from you slipping in the chair, then the tip of your toe kicks it further upward.
You had no clue however that your entire body was in frame. Your webcam wasn’t even in your view. With your eyes cloudy from tears and your back arched, you were more focused into making this experience worth your time.
“Holy fuck, you’re gorgeous. Why would you try to hide such a blessing from me?”
You thought in that moment he was praising the beauty of your pussy in which has become well acquainted with, and so you just plead your case. “M’sorry, I’m so sorry Mars.”
He whines with a small shriek, faltering in his ministrations of taking himself all the way. He shivers everytime he takes glances at your adoring features in which you still have no clue are unconcealed.
“Fuck, you’re getting wetter with every thrust darling. Let’s finish this off together and go all the way. My obedient little slut deserves it anyhow.”
He grins wickedly as he watches you plunge the dildo in you without any wasted time.
“Are you fucking close baby? Please tell me you are, because I can’t hold it for another fucking second!”
“Yes Mars I’m- I’m so, aughhh!” You release the cum covered dildo from your heat and fall backwards-limp in your chair. You’d allow yourself to rest as you were still shaking in aftershock.
Mars cums spurts like a water gun onto the meat of thighs. If you weren’t so high right now, you’d see the tear drop that could be mistaken as sweat, but really, that’s how much you’d affected him.
A unexpected knock on the door causes Mars to stumble in his chair, immediately turning off his video and throwing everything into a safe space. “Give me just a minute!”
“Mars!?” You breath out, dropping the dildo in hand to click out of the live chat. ‘Your call with marsskywalker8 was ended.’
‘Of course’, you thought. You’re not sure what you were expecting from a site where people use each other to get off. Who in their right mind would have casual conversation after cumming online with a stranger?
You hit x and shut your desktop down to clean yourself in shame. As you got up your ass stuck up the seat from your sticky orgasm, the best you ever had- which is why it’s a shame things ended so abruptly.
With the random select of strangers in your country, it probably take a billion masturbation sessions, to reach him again. Not that you would want to do it again with anyone else though.
* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*
THAT VERY NEXT MORNING…
“Good Afternoon, sleepyhead! Wakey wakey!”
Your eyes flicker open rapidly when you hear your roommate's familiar voice. You click the power button on the side of your phone and it’s 2PM. A flash memory record of Mars and your homework creeps in your head. Your homework that you think you submitted with a conclusion.
“Hmm?” You say groggily, looking tiredly disgusted at the slob stain wetted on your sheets.
“Look at me, straight one.” Your roommate says while snapping.
“Why is it that you make fun of me in my sexuality as the gay one?” When you throw your cover off and sit up on the ledge, your eyes dart toward a golden trophy she places on your lap. “You fucking got 1st place?”
“This bitch and her incredible team got first place! Whoop whoop!” Your roommate prances around your dorm doing the gagnam style of all dances in victory.
You cover your mouth in surprise from her ridiculous bust-a-move, but also from the relieving news. “Oh my god congratulations Dixie. I told you, sometimes being stress gets you blessed.”
She smiles widely and jumps on your bed to cuddle you in a comforting hug.“You’ve been so supportive honestly, even while I was a deadbeat roommate.”
“Oh please, you had your reasons. You caught up on finals?”
“One more this week and I’m through, statistics.”
“Hmm remind me to retake that class in our next and final semester.”
“Fucking A-men….Oh that reminds me!” In excitement she pulls apart from you and gets on her knees to grasp your hands. “The team and I are going out for dinner later to celebrate, and I wanted to bring you with me…as a plus one.
You groan heavily, drained from the thought of going out. “Dixieeeeee. You know my social skills are at an all time low right now.”
“Nora will be there.” She looks at your slight smile but you don’t fully give in. “Food will be there?”
“You and Nora…” you say lowly. “will be the cuntiess business woman of all time. You both know how to plead your case with someone, and always win.”
“Fuck yes!” She gets on her feet quickly to give your forehead a kiss. “I love you girlie!”, she squeals.
“Please stop, that’s so out of character!”
Later in the day you both dress casual for the occasion. Dixie picks up her girlfriend Nora in the way who gives you a French greeting in the car, and right after, her and Dixie move into a French kiss.
You loved their love. You felt like a child riding in the backseat, admiring the way your parents love another, and wish for the same.
On the way to the restaurant you were informed of the two males that complete their business team. You were very eager to meet them. You were eager to meet anyone who tolerated Dixie.
“Okay this is the place. Hongjoong and Seongwha are waiting at the table inside.” Dixie says to you, smiling to ease your nervousness.
When you walk in you immediately feel the calm, yet bustling excitement of the restaurant. For the most part the people that are seated are a gathering of friends-celebrating or hanging out.
You were mindfully following Dixie and Nora as she directed you to the table, and that’s when you heard her say, “Wassup business team #1 champions!”
A small uproar of cheers and claps sound throughout the group. It hardly brought little to no disturbance to the other guests.
“I hope you guys don’t mind but I brought an extra out tonight. This is my roommate and the best goddamn friend I could ever ask for, Y/n.”
Your heart beat grows faster as you look at the men you’ll be accompanying this evening. There was Hongjoong and….FUCKING Mars?
Or as your friend like to call him, ‘Seonghwa’.
“Nice to meet you both.”
Hongjoong says the same and formally introduced himself. Seonghwa nods at him casually, and then smirks over to you.
“We’ve heard a lot about you.” He finally spoke. “I’m glad we have the chance to finally meet one another.” You nod and Blink thrice at Dixie, giving her your friendly signal. Code red.
“Hey-uh, we’re gonna use the ladies room real fast. It was a long ride. We’ll catch up with you guys in a few!”
Dixie grabs your arm and arm as Nora was on the other side. As a team they cornered you on a sink from both sides.
“Just tell me now” Dixie complained. “Do you wanna fuck him?”
“Dixie!” Nora lightly slaps her on the wrist as they were still united arm in arm. “Damn, why do you have to be so forward?”
“Well?” Dixie relentlessly imposes.
“It’s not like that! I was just looking at Seongwha because he was looking at me!”
Dixie’s brow raises up in amusement and he squints her berating eyes right into your face. “Who said anything about Seongwha?”
You look to her partner in arms, your other best friend. Who also happened to be the scapegoat to Dixie’s interrogations. “Noraaaaa?” you whined.
She looks to Dixie and shrugs her shoulders. “It’s a reasonable question that should be given a reasonable answer.”
You deflate your cheeks with a defeated breath, scoffing with a shattered heart of betrayal. “I saw the look in your eyes before you introduced me. I knew you were plotting something.”
“Well then let me just get straight to it then”, Dixie admits. “Why are you giving him the fuck me eyes?”
“Fuck you Dixie, stop it.”
“We could make it happen…just saying.”
“You guys. You point to them both with a lowered peace sign. Can help me. You point to yourself. Sway a- male species?”
Dixie scoffs and lightly pushes your shoulder upheld by your hand pressing into the sink. “I wasn’t gay all my goddamn life d-lover.”
“I’m pansexual, you know that.” Nora added.
“I do have a few cards up my sleeve still…never forget it.”
“Fine. I have the fuck me eyes,” you mutter with a small grunt. I would like your guys help.”
“What was that? I’m sorry…”
You flip up your middle finger. “Dickhead Dixie.” You run off right after, knowing she was more of a heavy weight champ than you were.
“Nuh uh! Come here, you little shit.” You feel a strong hug from bundle you from behind, and another pair of arms hugging you both. “We got you. Don’t worry.”
“Alright sorry fellas, the scissoring convention is over now”, Dixie privately announces, pulling out a chair for Nora.
“How the hell did you manage to maintain your professionalism during that presentation again?” Hongjoong asks, truly wondering in his genuine curiosity.
“Well it’s just like before I came out the closet. Fake it till you make it man.”
“Alright what are we having for dinner?”, Seongwha intercepted, clearly unamused. “The chicken parm sounds appetizing.”
“Yeah that and the garlic cheesy bread.”, you unknowingly added.
“Mmmm okay, we’re being bombarded by the Italians.” Dixie suddenly joked. She wouldn’t allow a moment of uncomfortable silence for you to bear, and that’s why she was your best friend.
“What will you be having Nora dear?” Dixie throws her arm casually around her girlfriend, giving the side of her temple a kiss as they go over the menu.
“I’m going with…the chicken tenders and fries basket.”
“Sounds great”, Dixie agreed. “Simplicity is best.”
“Looks like we’re being bombarded by sticky finger tablet kids now.”, you snickered in retort.
“Cocomelon! Seongwha chirped followed by the xylophone instrumental played after in the intro.
“You’ve got that down to a T, Mr.Park.” Dixie jived with a grin.
“You know Seonghwa likes to be a baby with legos and animal crossing in his free time.” Hongjoong added in.
Seongwha’s jaw shifted sides. You cover a smile under your hand, You didn’t say anything but you found it adorable. Every bad boy has a soft side.“Can a baby throw a baby sized man’s laptop overboard in the river?”
“Yeah, okay.” Hongjoong scoffs, seeming just a little visibly upset. “Like you can even throw that far.” Hongjoong folds in his arms at his sides, flailing his arms to intimate Seongwha’s throwing skills.
Seongwha’s stirring up his next comeback and ready to pounce, well, until Dixie had her words to share.
“Boys, boys, settle down. Save some testerone for the gays hmm?”
“Next thing you know they’ll be having a dick sword fight on the table.” Nora taunted, speaking loud enough for the two men to hear.
Hongjoong and Seonghwa groan and end their bantering right then and there. Nora and Dixie fist bump, you hear a “works every time” in whispers.
“Waiter, over here please!”, Hongjoong calls aloud.
You guys get some dessert after more gay jokes, poking fun at Seonghwa, and Dixie throwing random shots of spotlight on you so you can get familiar.
Little did you tell her how familiar you were already. Seonghwa had kept his mouth shut, he believed it was a matter you talk about some other time, or maybe never at all again.
As soon as their raspberry cheesecake cake arrives for dessert, Nora and Dixie head out for the night.
“It’s been a pleasure dude and dudettes, but me and this fine babe are heading to her place for the night.” A padded smack from Dixie causes Nora to jolt forward. She maintains her composure, unlike Dixie, she doesn’t like public attention.
“Let’s hang out like this more often, all together. Tonight was fun guys, see ya.” Nora chirped.
The two went to leave, playing on an act to their mischievous plan.
“Oh, uh Seongwha!” Dixie sputtered. “You mind taking Y/n back home- or your place is cool too. Just please make sure she safe, alright?”
“Yeah, of course. She’ll be safe with me whatever she decides. For the first time that night he initiates eye contact. “If that’s fine with you too…”
“Mhmm, yeah, that’s fine.” You nod throughout each word.
“Okay then, it’s settled! Hasta luego mi amigos, and buena noches!”
“That’ll be it for me too!” Hongjoong says while throwing on his jacket. “I think I’ll go home and play with some beats to wind down for the night. Nice to meet you again y/n.” He gives you a small small wave and pushes in his chair. “I hope to see you sometime soon.”
“Later, baby.” He sneaks in, balling his fist and wiping his eyes at Seongwha.
Seonghwa scoffs as he judges his friends childish behavior. “Enjoy making those beats tonight, it’ll be the last track you ever hear. Man baby.”
When you’re alone, you and Seongwha pick at your dessert in silence. His slice of strawberry shortcake, and your square of tiramisu.
“You wanna head out now too?”, he firstly speaks.
You look to him through your lashes, pausing with a piece of dessert on your fork. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
“My place is cool?”
“Yeah, um, sounds cool.”
* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*
LATER ON THAT NIGHT…
Thankfully Seonghwa’s place was reachable in walking distance. You had plentiful ideas in mind, but not a single plan that seemed successful.
“You know…” Seongwha mutters. “Dixie talks about you a lot. If I hadn’t known Nora, I’d think you were her girlfriend.”
You cackled at the thought, and even if you found that noise a bit embarrassing, Seonghwa had been all ears. “In what universe? She pokes fun at me for being straight all the damn time. Me and Nora though…we’d have a better chance.”
“Oh? Wouldn’t Dixie be enthused to hear that shit.” You give him a slight elbow jab, leaning into his part of the sidewalk. “The both of you are like her diamond in a rock. I’d imagine she’d hate choosing between you two.”
“It’ll never happen, she doesn’t have to worry. She’s like that for Nora and I too, you know?” Seongwha actively listens with a hum. “Say um…”your voice trembles, “do you live on campus?”
“No I don’t actually. I attend the university here, but they don’t offer as good of business courses as they do on your guys campus. So I signed up for dual enrollment, and that’s why I was in the competition.”
“So you’re a business major too huh? I swear it’s like you guys are some sort of zodiac sign or something. “You all behave...” you pretend to think as you see Seongwha avert his powerful gaze towards you. “Strangely.” You say slowly.
“Wow…that kinda hurts to hear. He sulks, holding his hand where his heart is. You haven’t even met me until today, and now I’m strange?”
Your smile falls and you blink away because you began to feel bad. (In both ways) “Don’t take it too hard, I love a good sense of humor. It breaks the ice when talking to someone new.”
Holy fuck you sounded just like him from the other night. And you didn’t even realize it until it slipped your mouth.
“Dixie’s got it worse than you, so I’ll live,” he chucked. What are you majoring in anyhow?”
“Gen Arts.” You say sheepishly, holding back a chuckle of your own.
“Wait, wait, wait. You give me shit for being a business major but your in general arts? Do you know how moody you guys are!”
“Oh screw you! But no, seriously, that’s like a complete contrast from a business major. We actually have empathy for others.”
“Okay…you know what?”
“Mhm?”
“You’ve might’ve got me on that one! But I for one, am not like all the others.”
You push him into the street without the oncoming traffic, a tired groan spills from your mouth. You walk ahead of him, smiling as you swing your arms.
“Okay see, now you and Dixie are on the same level!”
Once you enter Seonghwa’s apartment, you fall to silence after all the heavy-felt chitter chatter.
Seongwha puts up his coat, takes off his shoes, and wanders off as he keeps talking about a new subject with upmost excitement.
You’re frozen and too entranced in the exact detail of his pc set up across the room. The microphone on the right side, along with many cute action figures of legos and animal crossing figures on the wall. Hongjoong wasn’t joking about that part after all.
“Hey y/n…you okay?!” Seonghwa yells from another part of the apartment in concern.
“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” You slowly inch closer to his desktop, smoothing your hands on the top of the mic where his soft lips purred the most filthiest words.
“Oh. Did you hear what I said?”
“No uh, sorry I was checking out your collection. Wha’cha say again?”
You hear rummaging and stumble just when you thought Seonghwa was close by. “Did you want anything to drink? A water maybe?”
“Nah I’m stuffed. Thanks though.” You slowly slip your fingers off one by one. You were afraid even the slightest move could trigger your clumsiness , and have to face Seonghwa running in here to save his precious belongings.
“Could you come here real fast? I need your help with something!”
“Uh yeah? ‘m comin.”
You search in every room until you found him which didn’t take long. Of all places you’d thought he be the bedroom would be the last you would want .“Hey…what’s up?”
“Hey”, he says with a blatant tone. His face looked even more blatant which made you feel uneasy. “I know this might sound crazy but, I think we have some unfinished business."
“That does sound crazy. I’ll definitely need some elaboration.”
Could it be?
“Of course, I understand. Let me start by saying that I've never stopped thinking about you since we last spoke."
No, it couldn’t be.
“I’m sorry. what the hell are we talking about again? We just met a few hours ago. Like tonight.”
"Okay!” Seonghwa exclaims, cranking out his neck to prepare for what he was going to say, and carefully. “I guess we need a recap-we first met online, exchanged more than a few words. We introduced our crotches, played games, and oh-we came so hard, and then I got really busy, and never followed up.”
But it could be…
“How the fuck did you know it was me?” You cower in a panic. “I never even showed you my fucking face.” You fall to your knees and breathes deeply in your hands. You truly thought you were being careful.
Being the observant person he is, Seonghwa senses your sudden panic, reacting swiftly by getting down on one knee so that he is face-to-face with you. “Well, there's no need to panic. Darling…don't worry. I could just tell.”
You seperate your fingers and take a good look at Seonghwa’s detail features. He takes it as an opportunity to look in between to what he though was the most captivating eyes in the universe.
“Well how easy for you to say. I had video sex with my friends classmate, and then ate dinner with him knowing he’s the guy I had video sex with. W-what did you mean you could tell?”
His smile widens as he sees you peeking further at him. He leans in a little closer, maintaining eye contact. "Well, first off, I think it's quite an intriguing coincidence, and let me assure you that I won't tell anyone about our little secret, okay?" He waits until your small nod before continuing.
"As for how I knew it was you. I saw your face when the camera got kicked up by your legs. I know it’s a major dick move but, I couldn’t- I didn’t want to tell you. I wanted to go all the way with you. You were just too fucking beautiful to be dispensed out of my memory forever.”
You slowly uncover your face and your eyesight immediately goes to his lips. “Fucking hell.” Shit, I knew it was too risky.” You look at his eyes again, which are now on your lips. “I can’t believe I’m saying this fucking bullshit but I’m glad it was you.”
Seonghwa’s eyes light up and he makes the hesitant move of putting his palms on your redden cheeks. He leans in even closer, his gaze filled with warmth, and understanding. "You know what?"
“Yeah…?” He grins mischievously, before leaning in slowly, giving you ample time to pull back if you wanted to. "I'm glad it was me too. And you know what else? I think we should make up for lost time."
“You mean-you mean you wanna-
“Yeah, I wanna. I want to have sex with you. I want to feel you completely, and for real this time.”
“You promise to treat me like a good little slut?”, you whisper, gaining proximity to his lips like they were a love spell.
“Only if you behave like one.”
You move to smash your lips shirt his in a sloppy tongue kiss. Although touch was a firsthand experience, your feelings weren’t. He taps your thighs, urging you to wrap your arms around what you found to be a very slender waistline.
He was caught off guard by the sudden kiss, but he quickly adapts, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you back with enthusiasm. As the two of you pull apart, he smiles against your lips, gently the apples of your cheeks. "Okay my good little slut”, he murmurs.
Seonghwa lifts you both up on his feet and tosses you on the bed. He grabs onto the hem of your boyfriend fitted jeans, unfastening them and taking them swift off your body.
“It’s been a while since I checked on kitsune hm?” He takes off your jeans and undergarments swiftly. “As gorgeous as she was before. Looks like I didn’t get catfished.”
You found it amusing, snickering under his chest. ‘So much for being real and human,’ you thought.“How’s Saber? Standing up like usual?” You raise your bare feet, smoothing it over the tightness in his jeans.
He tsk, taking your wrist in his hold and throwing your arm to the side. “Now we’re not off to a good start now are we? I really wanted to take it easy with you, but it seems like you like to do things the hard way.” He leans into your ear and teasingly takes a nibble. “What’s your safe word?”, he whispers.
“Strawberry,” you playfully whispered with a giggle.
Seongwha bites his lip as he nods in with a groan pulling away from your ear.
He inserts and curls his finger inside the cunt. At first it started with a few strokes, but then he full fledged fucked you on them as he pulls and pushes them in and out.
You whine loudly the pleasure, but you stay obedient, unwavering your wide open thighs from his head.
Seongwha notices your loyal submissions and gives you a mischievous grin. “There she is. The little slut I directed about a week ago.“What’s your safe word?”, he repeats.
You shake your head. You’re not ready to say it, you know it’s a trick. A test. You don’t want this to end.
“Good fucking girl.” He attaches his mouth onto your clit with his fingers now slowly dragging in the top of your walls. You feel the tip of his tongue flick your bean- causing your hips to jerk in immediate response.
As your moans grow louder his tongue swivels faster like a snake on the hunt. Accumulating all the slick ‘til the peak of your shaking orgasm.“That feel good my little tasty slut?”
“M-mhmm. It felt-fucking great.” You try to sit up but Seonghwa climbs to meet your face with his. “It would be dishonorable of me to not return the favor.”
He takes his cum covered fingers and shove them in your mouth. “Be quiet now, my sweet darling. Your debts have already been paid.” He pulls his fingers out slowly, slicking them down his torso until it reaches the cum outside his boxers.
“Shit. That’s so hot.”
“It is getting a bit warm in here hm? Maybe I should lighten up a little on the garments. Saber is in need of some air way.” Seongwha races in his pants to grab a condom in his wallet.
You watch the whole showcase of him slipping it on slowly so he wouldn’t grow tender from the simulating pain. When he’s finished, you reach to him like it was the first real piece of gold you’ve ever seen. His cockhead twitches.
“In sorry but…” he smacks away your eager hand, “kitsune gets first dibs. After all, they have yet to formally meet. So therefore Saber…Kitsune. Kitsune…he pushes your legs back aligning himself with your heat as he smiles at your genitals…Saber.”
Your toes spread from his insertion, and they close in from when he pulls back in and practice his penetrations. He was searching your face for discomfort, he wanted to take you there, and you were smiling widely giving him a positive sign that it was all okay.
He leans into you until your pelvis’s touch. He then begans thrusting at a lethal angle, killing your from the inside.
You began to feel every nerve in your thighs in legs tremble to uphold themselves in good strength. Seongwha was taking it all out of you, and it didn’t help when he separated your legs to get closer to your core.
Added ecstasy was released as he grabbed your jaw and claimed your lips for his taking. He was such a good fucking kisser. Even if you weren’t kissing back it would feel so passionate.
His hand begans to slip behind your neck and he lunges your body forward. Unknowingly doing damage to himself as you as your pussy clamps onto his dick, and your walls suction to be immovable and tightening.
“Fuck. I’m so fucked, darling. I don’t want to upset you but, I’m gonna cum, and it’s gonna be fast and hard.
“Do it hwa. Do it while you’re inside me, i’m beat there with you.”
He follows your direction like a game of Simon says. He adds the intense pleasure of massaging your overly stimulated clitoris, making it bloom in arousal.
Soon enough you came with more shakes and shivers to your nerves. So the extra movement and clamping didn’t leave Seongwha too far behind. He was whining and his arms were weak from being used and upheld for some time.
He twist his body so he fell next to you, discarding his condom into his trash as you both caught your breaths.
He rolls over and analyzes you with pure admiration, and your eyes had easily met with his because you were both thinking the same thing.
“You’re so fucking beautiful. I want to take you with me, and carry you everywhere in my pocket.”
“Dual enrollment is good of you wanna take a few extra classes you might need”, you tease with a wink.
“I have a degree in sexology if you need a few credits. We also offer private lessons free of cost. Seongwha swiped his thumb on your bottom lip. “I suggest Brat Taming 101.”
Your bottom lip stretches slightly downward as you openly smile. “Would that make me a teacher’s pet if I get any specialized treatment?”
“Well you are bunny after all. What choice would I have not to?”
* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*
A/N: Pheeewww how ya’ll feelin…it’s hot.
Thank you for reading,
Much love
xoxo
PLEASE DO NOT COPY MY ORIGINAL WORKS, reblogs are appreciated and accepted. Stealing and modifying my work or publishing out on other platforms is not.
©️1117feverlessdreams, 2024
245 notes · View notes
butch-reidentified · 8 months ago
Text
anyone here seen the show Resident Alien?
bc holy shit am I obsessed with the portrayal of 30-something women, their solidarity, feminism, friendship, and fun and self-expression! GODDD I did not realize how BADLY I needed to see a tv show actually depict (attractive but not "bikini models" by any means) adult (and admit they're adults, real adults not 20 yr olds) women as human beings with deep complex personalities and relationships, who really stand with each other despite being flawed humans who do sometimes hurt each other, who are silly and goofy and get into shenanigans bc oh my god WOMEN CAN STILL HAVE FUN AFTER TURNING 30.
Especially later in season 1 and in season 2 (I'm still on s2), there's just so much female badassery and solidarity that I love. there's also a gym workout scene in s2 with my favorite character D'Arcy and tbhhhh that scene is 😨🥵 Like, my wife said "this scene was definitely filmed by a lesbian, right?" 💀 It really did feel like celebrating an attractive woman build muscle without the typical male gaze-y lens. it actually focused on her flexion, facial expressions, sweat, flushing, yk, the things we are supposed to pretend women don't do even while vigorously exercising.
this same woman leads her friends on a drunken midnight raid of town hall where they review the town budget and discover they're paid less than the men. cut to the entire group of women (one of whom is the mayor's wife) standing in the mayor's bedroom in the middle of the night, standing over him and informing him "no, this isn't a nightmare, what the fuck is wrong with you, pay us fairly" like?? holy shit lmao. D'Arcy then proceeds to RENT A HELICOPTER to drop fliers all over town telling women about this and encouraging female solidarity in fighting back. this barely scratches the surface of her character's feminist heroics. in another seen she cuts the brakes on her best friend's abuser's truck and sends it down a hill in front of him, before telling him she'll happily kill him if he gets near her friend again. it's just so much fun to see. she also rescues herself and 2 others from a crevasse in the glacier by climbing 30 feet in a storm with a broken wrist. oh and shes a FORMER OLYMPIC SKIER bc fuck you
I've actually been very impressed with this show in a number of ways. they have a young girl character whose family is Muslim, and the writers seem to want to critique Islam while being aware that they have to avoid performative liberals picking up on this too much. so at first I was a bit 👀 thinking they were going a certain way with the character, but they ended up sneaking in a lot of critiques of Islamic patriarchy. they keep surprising me.
583 notes · View notes