#being a woman in stem fucking sucks

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[vampiricgf]

˗ˏˋ CRY 4 U ˎˊ˗

› or the one where you make him grovel if he wants to be forgiven. and get off.

leon kennedy x f! reader

wc : 2k+

dom reader, mean reader kinda, dacryphilia, begging, handjob, ball fondling, lots of spit and drool mentions, dry humping, orgasm denial, edging, praise (good boy), finger sucking, he might be a lil ooc but whatever we ball

"Oh, my poor baby."

You're evil, he's been convinced over the course of the last half hour that you must have some kind of pitch black ichor running through your veins rather than blood. Only some conjured up, story book type of wicked woman could find as much satisfaction in this as you clearly did.

You two had an impromptu separation three months ago, after a particularly explosive argument all stemming from the fact that nearly as soon as his boots had hit the hardwood floor of your shared apartment he had been answering the phone for yet another adrenaline soaked excursion into some other far flung corner of the world. You'd been worked up, had already turned yourself into a walking wound oozing anxiety all over the walls over the twenty two days he was already absent and then you hadn't even had him for ten minutes before he was being yanked away from you again.

He knew it wasn't really your fault, it was the natural strain of being in a three way relationship when the other party was the united states government. But admittedly he'd gotten pissed off in response, hated being the one your venom soaked barbs were directed at because "the government" was all but a shadowy, person like outline that was hardly corporeal enough to be the one taking your verbal punches at that moment. It had been a less than graceful exchange, piss poor on his part, culminating in him slamming the door on you mid sentence and vanishing for yet another multi week gap. When he came back you were gone, the apartment so sterile he thought you must've hired professional cleaners to obliterate any trace of you with not even a "go fuck yourself, Kennedy" left in your place.

Although he could admit he deserved it if only for choosing to be petty over and over the past three months as he passed on every opportunity he had to even send you a quick message, any sign he was alive and wanting to work this argument out once he was state side again. That he loved you no matter what.

That's why he called you as soon as he got back, saw the lifelessness of your shared home, heart full of hairline cracks at the possibility that it may no longer be. Three months of guilt eating him alive, burning through his veins and threatening to spew out of his mouth at the slightest provocation. When you answered it was like the split second before a character in a movie gets hit by some random runaway vehicle: all slow motion, lung freezing tension until the inevitable moment of high speed impact.

His moment of impact was your quiet little call of his name into the receiver, jumpstarting his tongue into a flurry of barely coherent pleading, begging to see you, begging for just one opportunity to make it right, do anything and say anything to make it up to you, win you back, just please please please don't leave. He felt insane as you stayed quiet and let him babble, felt like if it went on any longer he'd collapse in on himself, folded up like a sheet to languish on the floor until he was just a stinking pile of once human jelly.

At the time he believed you more like an angel, some benevolent deity tossing him a life preserver when you had cut him off mid word vomit and told him you would be over in a bit, had been staying at a friend's place, but that you two could talk "so long as you're sure you can spare five minutes for me this time." Ouch, but he'd known better than to respond to the jab that time, bait left untouched as you ended the call.

"Can you look at me, Leon?"

Your soft tone rouses him from the haze of recollection, bleary slate grey irises training on you in the half dark of the bedroom, blinking back now cold saltwater that's been gathered against his lash line.

Your soft hand caressed his taut balls, alternating between clearly enjoying the feeling of his bodily strain and squeezing just enough to make him gasp, mouth dropping open involuntarily as his thigh muscles tensed so hard it was a miracle they didn't severe in a spectacular show of blood spray and meaty chords piercing out of his skin.

You've been at this so long he felt delirious, brain on fire in such a way that even the worst fever hes ever experienced pales in comparison. Your little giggles reverberate against his eardrums, making his eyes flutter shut as they roll back, his hips jerking against nothing in a pathetic pantomime of sex.

"How badly do you want me to forgive you?"

"So, so fucking bad- please please sweetheart, fuck-" his hips rise even higher off the bed as your warm hand palms at the base of his heart stoppingly hard cock, that one feather light touch making him nearly convulse against the bedspread as you smile and bite your bottom lip, eyes narrowed and heavy with mischief.

He knows he can stop you whenever he wants, he's making the choice to not touch you, abide by the rules of this little payback you had proposed to him. Of course, just the thought of your hands on his dick again had made him agree before he really thought it all through. Ever the quintessential man, Leon Kennedy.

You were demanding he proved how badly he wanted your forgiveness by essentially allowing you to use him like a toy, doing whatever you wanted and if he was your good boy then by all means, you had plenty of time to discuss reunification post mess making.

But he had failed to consider that you had three months of heartache backed up, and like a girl in an exorcism film you needed this release as much as he did, a final cleansing of all those negative feelings before you could move forward. Yet truly, he was all too happy to be the instrument you worked it out on.

Even if it felt like torture in the moment.

You clicked your tongue at him, slow as molasses as he sagged back against the pillows, mouth open to plead with you again but before he could vocalize one single syllable you quickly leaned forward and clapped a hand over his spit slicked lips.

"Open your mouth when I tell you to, understand?"

On anyone else the faux authority would make him squirm in secondhand embarrassment, but on you? Your firm tone sent a shockwave shiver quaking down his spine, ending with another pitiful spasming in his cock that made him cry out against your palm, bucking his hips yet he kept his hands steady in place against the bed. Not moving, just as you'd specified.

Really he's shocked he hasn't shredded through the bedspread at this point, with how much he's been twisting the fabric in his grasp in order to resist the urge to just grab you, manhandle the hell out of you and finally slot his aching cock right where it belongs: squeezed between your warm walls, milking the life out of him.

You lean forward again and press a kiss to his forehead that's so chaste it gives him whiplash with the contrast of your actions. It doesn't matter that he's whimpering against your hand, nuzzling into your touch and your kiss, he's so desperate for anything from you. Being so focused on his own need he doesn't realize what you're doing until your index is lifting his lip, sliding against his top front teeth while you coo at him.

"You're being so good for me, baby, now open your mouth."

The praise coming off your tongue, in a tone so warm it's like honey spreading over his skin, makes him give a dopey little smile as he lets your fingers slide over his tongue, sucking at them and giving little barely there bites with his molars, rolling his tongue around them and savoring the distinct taste of your skin. When you straddle his thighs he tenses, eyes squeezing shut for a second but rather than more teasing it seems you've taken pity on him.

His wicked, heartless lover once again crowned the pure hearted princess of the kingdom in your room as his watery azure eyes watch the glittering glob of spit leave your glossy lips and roll down the head of his cock, mixing with the sheen of smeared precum already decorating the puffy, red flushed head. It gives another painful jerk as you grip him up once more, making him gag and whine around your fingers.

Fresh tears of relief spill down his cheeks, glinting in the lamplight like rhinestones as his hips frantically and messily jerk out of time with the rhythm of your hand. It doesn't even matter, all that matters to his baser instinct is that finally, finally your hand is wrapped around him and the friction he's been nearly screaming for is catapulting him towards a high speed orgasm. As ecstasy blooms in his mind, a raucous display of internal fireworks, he cries out your name in a garble of nonsense sound around your digits.

You stop.

You stop and his hips stutter, cock throbbing so hard he can feel it in his chest as he cries out around your fingers, half choking from the way it sends saliva sliding down his throat.

As you pull away he feels the panic rising like a living thing in his ribcage, frantically spasming and twisting against the confines of his bones as he leans forward, chasing after you.

"No, no, no please sweetheart please don't stop I'm right there it was right there-"

"You think you deserve it?" You ask cooly, head tilted to the side with one brow raised critically and he feels like he could start screaming, his jaw slack as your words slide over his brain.

The bedroom is suddenly the scene of a two person disaster, feeling like an airplane cabin going through spontaneous decompression once all the air has been violently sucked out via even a fingernail sized hole in the window glass.

He whimpers your name, grabbing at your forearms and not sparing a single thought as yet another round of fresh tears turn you into a watercolor painting.

"I feel like I'll die if you don't touch me again," it's the most true string of words to flow from his tongue, he knows he'll wither away on the spot, blow around the room in a cloud of dust if you're hand isn't back on him within the next minute.

And you smile, fuck you smile so beautifully he can't help but return the expression complete with red twinged puffy eyes and a wobbly lip caught between his teeth.

With a surge of elation you grab his hands, manually sliding them up your stomach to your clothed breasts and he moans like a bitch in heat as he practically pounces on you to get his reward, getting you pushed back against the bed with a shocked oof squeezed from your lungs before his mouth is devouring your lips. It's all clicking teeth and spit sliding down your chin but he doesn't care, can't spare a single thought when he's rutting his bare cock against your clothed cunt, the vague feeling of your warmth more than enough to violently shove him off the cliffs edge.

Even as sticky spurts of cum splatter against your clothes and get pushed against his and your skin through the material he doesn't stop, hips continually grinding against you as if he really is fucking you, too caught up in the all consuming head rush of his orgasm to care about the mess he's making all over your pants and shirt.

As the pulse in his head, chest, and cock subsides his sloppy movements slowly come to a stop. The only sound in the room for what feels like eternity is his own panting breaths, slow to even out into a normal rhythm with his face buried against the side of your neck. Your fingers sliding through his hair makes him preen, pressing down onto you with his full weight as you let out another little laugh, nails scratching against his scalp. If he could, he'd be purring like a housecat cuddled against your chest.

"You held out pretty well," you murmur and he hears the grin in your voice as he presses a soft kiss to your pulse, feeling the way it picks up at the contact.

"Mhm, this mean I'm forgiven, your majesty?"

You laugh again, a full body laugh that he can't help but bask in as it vibrates through you both.

"You were forgiven the second I picked up the phone, you know. Can't stay mad at you, even when I want to."

"Could've fooled me," he says as he picks his head up from your throat, pressing a firm kiss to your lips and humming when you nip at his bottom lip.

"You look pretty adorable when you're begging," you say it offhandedly and he shivers again.

"Why don't we put that on the back burner for now, angel." He presses a kiss to your lips as you laugh again, swallowing the silvery sound and letting it fill in all those miniscule cracks on his heart like fixative putty.

You're his, and you're both exactly where you belong in this moment. And it's truly all that matters to him right now.

[sepublic]

Hunter is NOT Luz’s brother, he’s not a Noceda, he’s not even that important to her compared to many other relationships Luz has and vice-versa. Like genuinely, go rewatch the show with this consideration in mind, cleanse the fanon for a fresh slate.

People just latched onto them as siblings because they found their Hunting Palismen dynamic funny, but also because they wanted to ward off Lunter. And they couldn’t articulate their dislike for Lunter as stemming from Luz’s longstanding dynamic with another female character being immediately replaced by fans for some white boy who just showed up, so they said they’re actually more siblings. It wasn’t an issue of biphobia it’s just people being tired of fandom thinking everything would be better if a woman was replaced by a guy. It’s the same reason Huntric also sucks because people replace a female character with some dude, it has nothing to do with bi/homophobia.

And FTR I hate Lunter, for the same reason I now hate the Luz & Hunter as Siblings take; It’s the fandom’s obsession with making Hunter more important than he actually is, to the point of replacing Luz’s actual important relationships with him. And hell even replacing Luz herself in her dynamics with her loved ones, because people portray Hunter as more Camila’s child than Luz when Darius is right there.

This fandom has a massive White Favoritism problem with Hunter, and he’s not even a female character he’s another White Boy, the most bland and milquetoast choice to raise as the fandom darling. He’s not THAT interesting and while him and Luz have their parallels and shared trauma and are still friends, what about Hunter and Gus? Or Luz and King, the latter explicitly calls Luz his sister but Hunter sure as hell didn’t! What about explicit on-screen dynamics huh???

ISTFG this fandom is overrun by Hunter content everywhere, he drowns out everyone except the literal main character and even she struggles sometimes! It’s because he’s a White Boy, that’s it. It’s not illegal to like Hunter, but you need to actually appreciate and engage with other characters accordingly instead of acting like that’s illegal. Hunter does the bare minimum and is lauded meanwhile everyone else goes above and beyond and is still overlooked for him.

Stop inserting him into everything we do not need Luz and Hunter angst we can just settle for Luz angst. She has other relationships and priorities you know and there’s so much more to this show than Hunter suffering. Sometimes you’ll even take Luz’s canon angst and give it to Hunter even! And try to make him more of a main character by inserting him into everything but he’s a side character.

So yes, your AU where Hunter is the main protagonist is racist. Especially if it doesn’t even explore Darius as his mentor, and has Eda take his place despite her barely interacting with him. And constantly praising Hunter for being a weird passionate nerd gets aggravating when Luz does the exact same thing but with greater emphasis, but gets ignored in favor of Hunter as she’s relegated to just Lumity.

And all of her additional depth and angst is just ignored for Hunter’s instead, sometimes they’ll even make up angst for him when other characters actually have it; I’ve seen popular fanart of a Luz moment where Hunter is in her place. Because fandom will sooner micro-analyze Hunter’s hands for nothing, than Luz going on a suicidal rant.

They’ll cradle Hunter’s trauma and suffering in their hands as a sacred and delicate subject, gnash at Darius for not being nice; But then sweep over Luz’s trauma and not realize how much certain things affected her, and why it’s fucked up to just ignore that in favor of bad AUs where Luz is a friend to Belos, who prompted a lot of her suicidal depression and scarred her face too.

They’ll insist Hunter should’ve been a bigger part of the finale and that Luz’s nightmare should’ve been her guilt for hurting him, as if it wasn’t already about Flapjack’s death and just her guilt towards ALL of her friends. So you know what, in addition to Hunter not even needing to kill Belos, I’m glad he wasn’t in that final battle and that the show reminded fandom who the actual main characters are (Luz, Eda, and King), which obviously pissed off a lotta people. Because it’s not like Hunter didn’t have major focus in the last two specials and S2B!!!!!!

[snailmail444]

After reading the Masturbationen headcanons for the Bachelors… Can we get masturbation headcanons for the bachelorettes? 🫶🏻

Bachelorette Masturbation Headcannons

18+ 🌱 NSFW 🌱 MDNI

This took soooo long. So so long. But it’s HERE! I’ll probably be double posting today since the poll said post as I finish and I actually have two asks done hehe. Hope y’all are ready for a double feature! NSFW under the cut!

Penny-

🧡 It’s all or nothing for penny. Either her mom is out and she’s got all the time in the world, or her mom is home and she can’t hide a damn thing.

🧡 Luckily Pam has a solid routine every night, so Penny has been able to find time for herself when the mood strikes.

🧡 It’s not a usual occurrence for Penny. She’s got a lot of deep-seated repression that makes it tough for her to follow through on any sexual urges. She’s still undoing the small-town-youth dynamic that it’s dirty and shameful for women to pleasure themselves.

🧡 Sometimes though she’ll be reading fanfic (because let’s be so real you know she does), and she can’t ignore the ache in her center anymore.

🧡 Bites down on her lip and edges her bottoms off anxiously, still a little worried someone might jump out of the shadows and damn her in the name of Yoba for sinning.

🧡 Settles in pretty fast though, and lets herself get lost in the story. Pretends she’s the character being ravaged, typically in a highly romantic setting.

🧡 Penny seems like a total pillow humper to me. Gets all flushed and red and tries to muffle her moans as she grinds against the fabric.

🧡 Really sensitive so she doesn’t need much more than that. Maybe a free hand to play with her breast, but honestly not even that.

🧡 One and Done. The guilt sets in and she feels embarrassed all over once she finishes, so she throws everything in to wash and showers off the evidence ASAP.

Maru-

💜 Doesn’t have a ton of personal space/boundaries during the day. She has to wait until nighttime to even think of letting off some steam (thanks, Demetrius)

💜 Once she’s certain her parents are asleep—thank god Sebastian doesn’t ever leave his room, the night owl—Maru climbs down into the privacy of her workshop and allows herself to unwind.

💜 Maru is a woman in STEM. A gadget queen, if You will.

💜 She only has a couple of toys, but they’re high-end splurges. Quality over quantity.

💜 Could make her own if she really wanted to, but she’s got more robotics projects on her plate than she can finish. The last thing she wants is to have to wait to finish making her sex toy before having fun with it.

💜 Her favorite is just a plain blue toy that looks unassuming, but it feels like it’s thrusting inside her, and she can just lay back and enjoy it.

💜 Girls arms and wrists are tired after a day of engineering, so it’s a lifesaver to not have to do that work herself. All she wants is to feel fucked full and nothing else.

💜 Maru’s mind is always going, which is good and bad when she’s trying to get off. On the one hand, it makes for some vivid fantasies. On the other, sometimes she doesn’t want to have to think at all.

💜 Her fantasies are often of whirlwind, desperate romances. Stolen away in the nearest closet, shoved up against a tree, spread out on top of her workbench. She dreams of reckless, passionate, I need you this minute sex. It gets her so wet she’s soaking.

💜 On the days when she wants her brain to go quiet, she’ll make sure to keep going until she’s cum three or four times. Until her ears are ringing and her body is completely exhausted. Kind of a stamina queen, to be honest.

💜 She sleeps like a baby on those nights.

Emily-

💙 Lowkey I think Emily would be a licensed sex therapist.

💙 She’s very well educated in the importance of sexual health. For her it’s a spiritual practice of keeping herself balanced.

💙 Haley’s home like all the time which sucks, but she gets an okay amount of privacy regardless because their rooms are on opposite sides of the house.

💙 Lights incense that has properties good for sexual energy or something I dunno.

💙 Has a (body safe!) crystal wand that she fucks herself with.

💙 Loves how cool it feels at first and the fact that it warms to match her body temperature.

💙 Little miss active imagination doesn’t need porn or anything, she just gets right the hell off on her fantasies.

💙 As for what she fantasizes about? Girl goes wild thinking about having three or four partners. Ideally it’s three or four people all focused on pleasing her, every sensation hands and mouths and skin on skin—she gets really hot thinking about it.

💙 Her nipples are really sensitive so she makes sure to stimulate them a lot, pretending she has someone to focus on each one individually.

💙 Enjoys being present with her body and engages her senses. Really wants to sit with all the sensations and draw them out.

💙 Doesn’t cum every time, but that’s not the point for her. Unless she’s specifically trying to cum, it’s an added bonus. Something nice, but not necessary. It’s all about the journey for Emily.

Leah-

💚 Leah has it MADE in terms of getting off.

💚 Queen of living alone in the woods.

💚 Full privacy. Loud noise never carries from the solid insulation and the dampening of the trees. She can’t full out scream without being heard, but almost.

💚 Has a collection of dildos she’s made herself out of scrap wood. She started making them as a joke, but then she was like actually…this could be great for me.

💚 Don’t worry, she’s taken great care in making sure they’re body safe. Made with love and all that.

💚 Her favorites are the ones that she’s left knots on. A smooth fuck is nice, but she loves the added sensation from the bumps.

💚 Her internet isn’t great, but she’s lucky to have a collection of artsy porn films. Again, something that started as more of a fascination, but to be honest it’s super hot.

💚 One in particular is her favorite, with a long shot of eating pussy. It’s supposed to be a love story, the way it’s framed, but more than anything it’s just hot. Reminds her of some of the best oral she’s ever gotten.

💚 Takes her a long time to get off, but she’s learned not to rush it. She’ll finish when she finishes, and it’s always worth it.

💚 Needs a nice, long, relaxing shower afterwards, and unwinds with a cup of herbal tea.

Haley-

🩷 Emily is gone a lot working at the bar until late, so she doesn’t have to worry about finding time.

🩷 Definitely has a collection of toys for whatever mood she’s in.

🩷 Quality AND Quantity babe Haley will not deny herself pleasure.

🩷 Absolutely will treat herself too. A nice glass of wine and some mood lighting. Big fan of setting the vibe (pun intended).

🩷 Soft BDSM girlie. Adores any porn where the sub ends up a whiny desperate mess

🩷 It’s an ego trip. She absolutely wants to think that whoever she’s with would be reduced to absolute pathetic begging for her.

🩷 She finishes faster than she would like sometimes, so she’s mastered the art of edging.

🩷 She’s not gonna put all that effort in for nothing. If she’s set taking her time to enjoy herself she’s going to be TAKING her TIME.

🩷 Finds it really hot to be able to watch herself so sometimes she’ll set up in front of her floor-length mirror. Not as good as it is with a partner, but it’s got a similar draw.

🩷 Really quiet when she cums, her cheeks flushed and a gasp stuck in her chest while her body seizes with pleasure.

🩷 Might go a couple more times depending on how hot and bothered she is.

Abigail-

🖤 Abby has the least privacy out of the bachelorettes.

🖤 Her situation isn’t horrible (read: better than Sam’s), but she’s always got low-grade anxiety that she’s going to be caught and absolutely mortified.

🖤 Never home alone either, but Stardew girls make do. Waits up until midnight or later and makes sure to be radio silent just in case her dad is roaming around.

🖤 Once she gets into it though…she gets into it.

🖤 Little miss visual aid over here be Watching porn. She almost can’t get off without it. She CAN but she doesn’t want to. Which is so real of her.

🖤 LOVES videos of people getting themselves off. Solo masturbation videos are so hot to her because it feels like a steamy mutual session when she touches herself.

🖤 Totally ends up imagining past experiences or current crushes taking up the same as the person in the video. Pleasuring themselves while she watches and watching her get off too…she’s practically gone.

🖤 Sometimes she likes to watch really hardcore, desperate railing if she’s feeling particularly needy or submissive. Every now and again she just wants to be told she’s hot, get spanked, and fucked within an inch of her life. Girl me too the fuck—

🖤 Gets off pretty fast and once just because of the anxiety thing. If she had more peace of mind it would be a marathon for her because with the adventure training she’s got stamina for days.

🖤 Still sleeps way better after and ends up having some very, very pleasant dreams with all of that imagination fuel.

[martian-astro10]

My grandmother is so evil, this bitch like 😭😭, I'm even more pissed at my mom, cuz she always goes to help her, why do you keep on helping the woman who ruined your life? What's wrong with you? Leave that old hag to die. I wish she would just fucking die and stop torturing my mom. I hate her so much. She's the example of how a woman is a woman's worst enemy. I hate how kind my mom is, like STOP HELPING PEOPLE. UGHHHH. She's like a vampire, first she sucked off my grandfather's energy, and now is doing the same to my mom. You've always favoured your sons more, so go, ask them for help instead. Bitch. She makes me so angry, the fact that so many mothers treat their daughters the same way as she did my mother makes me so angry. How can you as a woman force your daughter into the disgusting circumstances that you were forced into as a young girl with her own dreams and ambitions. It pisses me off so bad. My mom has an IQ of 153, she got a full scholarship at MIT, Cambridge, but she decided to marry my mom off to this fucking idiot who failed 12th grade, this dumb fucking asshole, I hope he dies too, wherever he is. It hurts so bad, all the things she could've achieved, she wanted to study stem cells, and I know she would've slayed, maybe she would be famous, people would be studying her research papers, all that potential lost and wasted, all because her own mother was a fucking piece of shit who should've never had a child in the first place.

I'm so angry, angry at this world, angry at this stupid fucking society, angry at mothers, angry at women, angry at men, angry at those boy moms who think they're better just because they had a boy, angry at everyone, angry at my mom because she isn't angry enough, angry because that asshole who married my mom got away with no consequences, I'll kill him with my bare hands if I ever see him again, so angry, very angry, this society is so shit. I'm angry because I don't know even know what I'm angry at, where should I direct all this anger, I don't.... I wish I could stop thinking, the more I think the more it hurts. Every time something good happens, i think about my 10th grade friend who was smarter than me but got engaged last year to this stupid dickhead all because her parents wanted her to. She was very good at maths, wanted to study further but can't. Despite being so intelligent. I'm a good student but not extraordinarily good, and yet here I am, studying in a prestigious university, but it makes me feel so guilty, I'm given all these opportunities, I'm afraid of failure, so afraid, afraid that someone out there deserves it more than me. Afraid that I'm not really doing my best. I want to excel in all the things I do, to make up for all the girls my age who are not able to do so. Get good marks so that I can feel like I truly belong here.

[polaris-likethestar]

making a part two to a previous post i made where i complained about the whole lesbian representation thing (once again so sorry for the long post, ima put a TLDR at the end) i saw on one of @holyblanchett ‘s asks someone mentioned that a show about middle aged women dealing with their trauma really started to stray away from that storyline, and how the story of sisterhood got pushed aside just to focus on the agatha/billy mentor/student storyline and i couldn’t agree more

also i know that this tackles some controversial as fuck topics and i know i’m gonna have people disagreeing with me and i realize i def could’ve said all of this in a better way but honestly, the anon really got me thinking and now i’m just even more pissed and this needs to be said (and ofc this is js my opinion)

anyways, the ironic thing is, i highly doubt jac and all the other writes and directors went in thinking this way. i do not, at all, believe that this was done on purpose. i just don’t believe that. what i do think that happened is that we, as a society, are so so so used to dealing with misogyny and we’re so used to hearing that younger is better that those sort of things just kind of stuck with us, whether or not we wanted it to.

the whole motherhood storyline with agatha was heartbreaking and should not be considered as just another way of fitting her a stereotypical woman category. motherhood is a beautiful thing and this was such an integral part of agatha’s story. however, we have been so accustomed to hearing that motherhood is a must-have for women that it’s become something that several (not all) people associate with “typical female roles” which is said because plenty of women/afab people enjoy being mothers and are excited to be a mother and motherhood is a beautiful thing (side note: if you are/want to be a mother that is amazing for you and don’t think i’m saying fuck motherhood cs that’s not what this is at all)

so, for me at least, it’s not the focus on agatha’s role as a mom that pisses me off. i love how her relationship with her son shows where some of her anger stems from, i love how well they incorporated that storyline into the show. but for me, it’s the that fact that motherhood is literally one of the biggest female stereotypes and like i said i don’t believe this was intentional what so ever but a story that basically says fuck stereotypes is being so stereotypical. like i said it sucks

and i know they did this to play into the whole maiden mother crone thing which was such a prominent thing in the show but still it doesn’t feel fair

also the whole “lesbian romance getting lowk pushed aside for a gay boy” thing co-insides with the whole “accidental sexist depections of womenhood situation” like i said before, we are so used to hearing that younger is better and billy is just that - young and he’s a boy. (i really really need to specify: no hate towards joe locke what so ever i truly mean it fuck u if ur hating he had nth to do with the writing and he does not deserve any hate)

so, yeah, like i said this probably could’ve been written better and i do believe any of this is one persons fault, no hate to ANY of the creators or cast they’re all amazing people and ultimately this show has been a huge step up when it comes to representation and has progressed so so much from so many other disney projects and shows and movies but still, this is js smth that bugged me sm and i rly felt it needed to be addressed in length cs this is js the same story, different show and i hate how accustomed society has become to stuff like this.

TLDR: people have become so used to gender roles and the idea that younger is better that even in a show that is a huge step up on disneys part when it comes to representation, we still have so far to go and i felt like this needed to be addressed but ultimately no hate to any of the cast or creators

[kookslastbutton]

Love's Remedy ༓ jjk (m) l Ch. III

✑ Summary: Jungkook is a romantic. He comes from a highly intelligent family who wants him to carry out the lineage. Being this way, he goes to college to be a pharmacist but his friends say college isn't just about studying! With a little persuasion, he goes to his first frat party thinking his hat will help him pick up a girl-or woman he means.

Pairing: STEM major!virgin!jungkook x STEM major!hot girl!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, fluff, s2l, college au, mini-series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4,378

Warnings: jk is very determined to "win" oc, jk a romantic, oc has philophobia (fear of relationships), protective!koo again, oc is an engineering student, PC Bang, jk is a king at LOL (League of Legends), jk lowkey flirts with new person, oc gets cold feet but please don't blame her 🥹, jk and oc get on level ground after hashing things through, themes of stalker-ish behavior (not oc or jk!), feat Jackson and Jae-beom, if i missed warning lmk!

Now Playing: seven, summertime sadness, she’s kerosene, angels like you+

A/N: For reference a PC Bang is: "a type of LAN gaming center and Internet cafe in South Korea, where patrons can play multiplayer computer games for an hourly fee". Also, I am not a gaming guru but I try for this chapter that means I researched haha Enjoy! 💞

<< ch. II ༓ ch. IV >> | series masterlist

A week later, Jungkook waits for you at your agreed rendezvous point; for over an hour. You promised to meet him near the campus garden at 7 pm but here it is almost 8 pm and you're a no-show.

He checks his phone for the fourteenth time since arriving–no reply.

Jungkook tries not to jump to conclusions but you broke your word and you ghosted him.

He thinks back to last week when he'd stepped between you and Jun-ho. And when you followed him back to his dorm where he told you he could love and take care of you, as you helped patch his wound. Had he come on too strong? Did you get into more trouble that he didn't know about?

He kicks a few pebbles by his feet, sending them flying in every which way, as the number of endless possibilities rattles his brain.

"Stupid," he cusses himself. "You're just so fucking stupid."

How could he believe that after two short weeks of random run-ins with you that he'd earn your interest? You told him you don't do relationships yet he still shows up, anxiously presenting himself as your knight in shining armor. Any sane person would tell him he was barking up a dead tree.

"Might as well get a head start on next week's homework." Jungkook loses hope, trotting back to the dormitory with the wind howling and mocking behind him.

"What do you mean she ditched you?" The boisterous inquisition belongs to Jackson who's looking thoroughly offended once hearing his new best friend was shown up. He isn't sure how much this woman meant to him, but either way, it makes him livid. Even if you weren't going to go out with him, you should've at least told him like a decent human being.

"I really thought she'd come," Jungkook replies with his heavy eyes. He walks alongside the blonde-haired boy, dirt crunching below his feet. "Guess she had something better to do."

"No." Jackson stops in the middle of the road. "You know who actually has better things to do? It's you. What do you say to hitting up the PC Bang downtown? Play a little League of Legends or Overwatch?"

Jungkook shrugs with less enthusiasm than a snail. "Sure…"

"Hey man," Jackson puts a hand on Jungkook's shoulder. "I'm sorry about you and __. It sucks being stood up. I've had my fair share and you just gotta take it as a blessing that nothing else happened between you both. Nine times out of ten, it didn't have anything to do with you either so don't blame yourself. Take it as a lesson and keep working on yourself until the right person shows up. They'll be the person you can truly give yourself to."

"Hard to believe you've been shown up. You're charismatic, confident, in good shape, have good facial features, and you're getting your MD." Jungkook's aware of his friend's attempt to lift his spirits but he can't fathom anyone not giving Jackson the time of day. Due looks like a pop star in the making.

"Nah, most of what you just said is me bullshitting my way through life. I'm not all that," Jackson rejects, striding forward. "I got rejected by a girl a few days ago myself."

"Had a boyfriend?"

"Nope, just didn't like me. And she doesn't go out with first -years apparently."

"Oh," Jungkook's eyebrows shoot up. "She was an upperclassman?"

"Yup, on her third year."

At this Jungkook's mouth gapes open. "No wonder she said no. What the hell are you doing trying to go out with a third-year?” The accusatory tone spins Jackson's head–he's a sad little puppy with you but a bulldog with him. What a puzzling fellow.

"Same thing you're doing trying to convince someone who doesn't want a relationship to go out with you."

Jungkook dials back his previous assertion. "We're idiots."

"Correction. we're dreamers." Jackson slaps him on the shoulder. "C'mon, let's go burn some shit up at the internet cafe."

By the time he and Jackson get to the cafe nearly all the computers are taken. It's no surprise since PC Bang's are quite a rave amongst university students like themselves. You can play the hottest games for hours while stuffing yourself full with whatever food's served on the cafe menu–all for a small fee of course.

"Let's go here." Jackson manages to grab two free id cards from the counter–guiding them to two empty PCs, side by side to each other. "How long do you want to play for?"

Jungkook sinks himself in the leather gaming chair and powers on the machine in front of him. "I'm good until 6 pm, but then I should head back to my dorm and do homework."

"Cool, same for me. We'll play for three hours then."

"What should we play?" Jungkook tosses the headset over his ears and scrolls through the game options. Jackson does the same.

"Kinda in the mood for LOL." He flips to the game's screen card. "Gonna need to join a team though."

"No problem.," Jungkook clicks the game on his own pc until the loading screen covers his view. "So many people play League of Legends. We'll be able to find one in no time."

Jackson nods and opens LOL himself. "Let's kick some ass."

"Fuck yeah," Jungkook mumbles, inaudible to everyone but himself.

An hour passes and he and Jackson have been hammering their opponents into the digital abyss. The thrill and surge of adrenaline cause him to forget previous heartaches–aka you. Plus, after finding a team of three to jump into; one member who happens to be female, Jungkook's been able to turn his attention to other prospects.

"Soomin, how long have you been playing LOL for?" Jungkook decides to learn more about his female teammate after claiming the final victory over the opposing team.

"Five years," her raspy voice comes through his headset. It sure is a unique voice, he notes.

"Same. We should play on a team more often. In fact, Jackson and I are thinking about building an official LOL team so we could use a third person. You're really good so if you want, we'd love to have you." Beside him, his friend gives him a confused look. 'We are?' he mouths silently which Jungkook ignores.

"Wait really?" She pauses a moment. "I've never been on a permanent team before. I guess that'd be cool."

"I play late at night sometimes too. Meaning if you ever wanna jump on with me shoot me a message or something."

"Alright, I'll jot down your username."

"Already got yours memorized," he says, a tad more cocky than he meant.

"Damn," she cusses. "You work fast. By the way, do you go to university?"

"Yeah, I go to Seoul National University."

"No way, what year are you? I attend there too. I'm a second-year."

"What?!" He nearly hits the ceiling once the information is disclosed. He had no idea Soomin would be this close and that he could meet her in person. call him eager but should he ask her out? No…he's already made that move with you and look where it left him. He'll ask to hang out first. "We should meet Soomin. As long as you don't mind that I'm a first-year that is," Jungkook chuckle lightly and looks over to Jackson who immediately gives him a double thumbs up.

"Well I'm kinda busy this week but how about next week? Also, if it's good with you, can my boyfriend come?"

Fuck. If this is some kinda joke he'd like to catch a break any time now. Not that he was as intrigued with Soomin as he was, or still is, with you but he definitely thought it was going somewhere!

"You're dating?" Jungkook watches Jackson lower his double thumbs up, frowny face on.

"Yeah, we've been together for a year. Met as classmates." When she giggles Jungkook has the unexpected urge to roll his eyes. Of course, you did, he mutters, just a perfectly peachy coincidence for you two.

"Well that's nice," he says bitterly.

"Oh, I'm sorry Jungkook. He's actually calling me now so I have to go but I'll talk to you soon. And message me when you want to meet. I'll tell my boyfriend about you!"

Great. Jungkook bids her goodbye and she signs off.

"Sorry about Soomin. She seemed cute." Jackson slides his headset off his ears to rest them around his neck. "But you know what? You're still a force to be reckoned with inside the virtual world. I honestly don't know how you do it."

Jungkook grins shyly and slips his headset on the desk. "I've been playing for a long time. Must be something to do with that." He throws a hand over his abdomen when his stomach rumbles at the same time. "We should order food." He browses the cafe's extensive menu on his pc. Nothing but rows and rows of tasty options flash back at him, urging him to spend fortunes.

Still, he's got to cap it at some point with only about 2,000,000 Korean won (about 1,500 USD) in his bank account. The Jeon family is wealthy but Jungkook is not. His parents are especially careful to inform him that generational wealth is not going to be given to him freely. Instead, he is to earn his own money, starting at the car wash which he worked at over the summer.

"I'm getting an order of Tteokbokki and a soju. What about you?" Jackson punches in his order, sparing a glance at Jungkook who's tapping on his keyboard with one hand while the other rests under his chin.

"The Jjajangmyeon looks good. I'll get that with a soju too." After Jungkook enters in his own order he strolls his chair out from under the gaming table. "Do you see a bathroom around here?"

"Yeah, it's all the way to that far right corner." Jackson points in that direction with his thumb.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom.

Jungkook repeats the simple word to himself. He scans the corner Jackson gestured towards earlier but sees nothing except a giant blank wall. Must have meant the opposite direction. He turns himself around to scout the other side of the floor.

"Excuse me sir-" a voice chimes close behind him.

"Oh sorry." He steps aside to let the young lady by and as soon as he does his whole body jerks forward in shock. "__!"

You turn around with the tray of food in your hand in what looks like a work uniform. "Yes, what can I do–Kookie?" You grip the plastic tray firmer to keep it from shaking uncontrollably, though the clamminess of your palms makes it a challenging task. Seeing Jungkook at the place you work was bound to happen being that the PC Bang is close to the university. You just weren't prepared for it to be tonight during one of your last shifts of the season.

"I didn't know you worked here."

"Yeah, only part-time." After bumping into Jungkook moments ago, you found it inevitable to avoid him further. You agreed to meet him outside once your break started. "I'm planning on leaving before the semester gets crazy. I have about a week left probably."

It dawns on Jungkook that he doesn't know what you study so with shifty eyes and clenched fists, he asks. "What are you going for?"

"Engineering." You can tell he wasn't expecting that for an answer; most don't be a woman in the field and all. "Jungkook, let's not do this. I'm sorry about what happened the other night." A sick queasy feeling settles in your gut–you're well aware you did Jungkook wrong. You're not proud of it in the slightest and him standing in front of you right now only reminds you of your guilt.

"I waited for you __. You said you come even if it was a rejection." A twinge of hurt laces behind his words and he keeps a controlled stance. He doesn't get in your face, demanding for an answer, nor does he break down and cry. He's more inquisitive than anything else. "Where were you? Why didn't you come?"

"I–" You intertwine your fingers, a nervous habit you picked up in childhood. "I panicked Kookie. I'm so sorry."

Jungkook stiffens when he hears the endearing name drop from your soft lips again. It was nice at first but now it feels like a sharp pain twisting in his side, like a thorn only for his misery. "Can you not call me that, please? It's–It's making me uncomfortable."

"Oh god," you lunge forward out of instinct but freeze when he steps back. "Jungkook I really am sorry. I was planning to see you. I had my shoes on and everything. Like I said I panicked, I'm not suited for relationships. And I'm not suited for you."

The last part stings the most.

"But–"

“There’s no buts Jungkook." You place your hand on the door of the building. " I have to get back to work."

"Wait!"Jungkook moves to face in front of you from an angle. "You say you're not suited for relationships but why did you get ready to see me? Why didn't you just say no to me? And last week when you told me you needed more time to think…was it a lie?"

"Because I like you okay? You're cute, protective, sweet, but you like me too much." you release the handle. "You don't know anything about me yet you've already got into a fistfight with an obscene jerk for me and claim you'll wait for me even when you just met me. If you love me this much now how much more will you love me later?"

" I'll love you for eternity."

"See this is it, Jeon. You saying stuff like this before anything real has happened between us–it's too much. How can you be this devoted to basically a stranger? You'll love me for eternity but have you considered that maybe I won't?"

"What are you saying?"

"What makes you think I'll love you as much as you do me?"

" I don't think like that __. I don't want a relationship so I can see what I can get. that's not how my mind works. I understand that I've been very forward with you. I should have been more conscientious about how that would make you feel but when I say that I love–"

"Please, don't drop the 'L' word. If you're saying love then you don't love me; only the idea of me."

Jungkook pauses, wordless

"Never thought of it that way huh? Guess not. Let me ask you something…do you know what I do? With men?"

He swallows and shakes his head no

"I sleep with them. A new guy a week if not twice a week. People call me a whore, and I'm spreading my legs for everyone and anyone willing. Do you want to get involved with someone like that?" You wipe away an escaped tear.

"I don't care about that at all __."

"Well, you should! This is who I am Jungkook. I can't let you be responsible for me. So unless you want a one-night stand or a friends-with-benefits relationship, I suggest you forget about me. I can't be your girlfriend."

"__!" Your manager shoves the front door open, causing you and Jungkook to jolt in surprise. " Where have you been? We have about twenty orders that need to be served."

"Sorry Manager Choi. I'll get right on it." You spare Jungkook one last glance before disappearing back inside the PC Bang. "I'm sorry," you say with a lowered head.

That night Jungkook lays on his bed, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts list. His logical side whispers for him to delete it. His heart says to call, text, or do something to–no. He remembers your pained facial expression; on the verge of tears as you explained to him that he'd been too quick in making his mind up about you. But then he replays your final words.

"…unless you want a one-night stand or a friends-with-benefits relationship, I suggest you forget about me. I can't be your girlfriend."

Well, he doesn't want the first two but if it meant he could be in your life longer–stop. His logical side intrudes. "You don't want to go down that path," he matters to himself. "It's better if you just delete the number." Jungkook moves to tap the trash can icon on your phone contact, a pang in his chest. Just as he's mustered up enough strength his phone buzzes off, screen lighting the entirety of the darkened dorm room. His roommate groans at the sound and rolls over in their bed.

"Jungkook," said roommate rubs his face. "I have an 8:15 tomorrow morning. Please speak take it in the hallway."

Jungkook quietly jumps out of bed not solely because of courtesy to his roommate but also because it's from you.

"Jungkook… can you um…"

"__?" He eases the door shut behind him and paces up and down the hallway. "Are you there?"

"Can you meet me at the bus stop near the campus library/ I'm sorry to be asking you it's just that…Jun-ho's–"

"What is it? Are you okay? What about Jun-ho?"

" I'm taking the bus back from work and he's on the same one he keeps staring at me and I'm scared of following me back to my dorm. Please Kookie-Jungkook I mean. I don't have any right to ask you, I know. He won't try anything with the bus driver here but once I get off I'll be alone. I have some pepper spray in my bag–"

"Yes, yes I'll be right there. How far are you out?" This isn't about pursuing you, impressing you, or anything like that anymore; it's about your safety. Jungkook leaps into his room, grabs his wallet, and shoves the sneakers on his feet. "__? Did you hear me?"

" I'm five minutes from the stop. Oh, he's, he's still staring at me."

"Don't look at him __. I'm walking down right now. Stay on the phone with me. I'll be waiting for you when you get there okay?"

"Thank you Kook. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. If Jun-ho's tracking you down like a wolf, it'll be his funeral." The icy tone in Jungkook's typically warm, milky tone sends a shiver up your spine.

The bus you're on pulls up in exactly five minutes, as you estimated. Jungkook frantically searches for you through the window glass, growling when he sees Jun-ho standing up a few rows behind you. He makes sure to be as close to the bus's exit doors as possible so he can grab your hand as soon as you step out.

"Hey!" He greets you loudly. "How was your shift?"

"Great! We were running around like crazy but thankfully, I didn't have to work through the night." You cling his hand tighter, slinging your other arm around his.

"That's a blessing." Jungkook and you walk faster, putting more space between you and Jun-ho. "You must be tired."

"Oh yeah, I can't wait to slee–ah!" You trip over a ledge on the sidewalk. Jungkook grips you before you completely fall flat on your behind.

"New feet?" He can't help but joke and you slap his arm. Jungkook helps straighten you back up, your hands remain interlocked. When it comes to a split in the road, you and Jungkook filter to the right side towards the female dorms. You hope to god Jun-ho takes the left.

"He's such a fucker." Jungkook curses, peering over his shoulder just enough to see Jun-ho faltering at the intersection. He burns holes at both of you so much that it makes Jungkook feel like kneeing him in the gut but he doesn't want to provoke the bastard–putting you in unpredictable danger. "I'll get you to your dorm. Which one is yours?"

"Up ahead." You gesture at the brick building with the number 318.

"We can let go of our hands now." You're the first to speak after arriving outside your dorm.

Jun-ho thankfully did not follow you any more than back at the split in the path between male and female dorms. The fact that he still attends school here makes your skin crawl. You don't exactly like calling people a mistake but Jun-ho is by far an exception. You messed around with the guy one time while you both were a bit tipsy and he keeps hounding you. If you need to, you will make him stay away from you permanently.

"Promise me you'll get a restraining order on him if this happens again or gets worse." Jungkook ignores your suggestion to release your hands. "That idiot has no right to be around you."

"I will. Thank you for coming out. I was nervous to call you being what happened earlier. I truly, from the bottom of my heart, am sorry. And I know having to go back to work left things hanging so if there's anything else you wanted to talk about or tell me, please feel free."

"Anything for you–" slips out of his mouth before he can stop it. He slaps a hand over his mouth instantly, you chuckle softly.

"It's okay Jungkook," you reassure. "I can tell you wear your heart on your sleeve. You're naturally very accommodating and flattering."

"And you're beautiful. Damnit, I did it again. I'm sorry __, but whenever I look at you I feel butterflies and I say a lot of fluffy stuff. I'm not trying to flirt or impress you by using what can be in the right context, shallow methods. But yeah, I was thinking about what happened at the cafe earlier tonight and I think get it–I've been too quick to the draw. I'm honestly not sure why I'm so attracted to you other than the fact that you're breathtakingly gorgeous in literally every way, both physical and non-physical. It makes me want to know you more. And the fact that assholes like Jun-ho won't leave you alone makes me want to be your personal bodyguard or something. I don't lift as much as him but fuck, I can keep him in his place. I'm starting to sound crazy, aren't I? It's like you said, we're strangers after all…right?"

Jungkook waits for you to respond. The cool autumn air is crisp against your cheeks, not cold enough to see your own breath, but enough to have you secretly grateful for the warmth that comes from his hand. That's right, you've been clinging onto his hand for dear life for the past fifteen or more minutes. You should probably let go now if weren't for the fact that he's also clinging onto yours just as hard.

"You really want to know me Kookie?" You brush a few strands of his hair that have blown in front of his eyes. He's incredibly handsome now…how did you not see it before? Sure he's cute with his bunny-like smile, mole on his button nose, and his adorable voice that makes you oh so soft and comfortable inside. But he's also handsome with his piercing oak tree-colored eyes, perfectly sharp jaw, and eager yet tenacious energy that always seems to show up for you.

Jungkook takes your other hand in his, swinging them between you both. "Of course," his earnest voice chippers. "It’s next to impossible for me not to want to know you. I'm sure I'll eventually move on if that's what you really want, but if there's another alternative that can avoid that I'd like to take it. You seem to be in deep thought about something…" he switches up his response when he notices you don't look as alert as you usually do. “__.”

"I'm here," you say, the tiniest bit dazed. "I was just thinking about something."

"Yeah I know, but about what?"

You swallow before replying. “…You.”

Jungkook smiles sheepishly. You're unsure if he's pleased or nervous. "Is it–is it something good or should we leave it here?"

"Are you free tomorrow?" You bite the inside of your cheek, begging yourself not to take it back. "It's Sunday so I get if you have some last-minute studying to do. Just thought maybe we could do something….together." Jungkook goes to reply, cheeks more than raised but you continue speaking before he sounds a word. "It's not a date per se. I'm being crazy annoying but I'd like to be friends first with something extra."

"You said no to friends before though. This isn't an offer to be friends with benefits is it?"

"That was when I wasn't sure what I wanted with you if anything. I didn't want to take advantage of you or anything. I want to start as friends so we can see if we can somehow be more. I'm interested in you Jungkook so no, not friends with benefits but rather, friends with the potential to be more."

"Okay," Jungkook squeezes your hands. "I can do that. What do you want to do? What time do you want to meet? What do you want me to wear?"

"First of all, if we're going to do this I'm going to need you to treat me like your bro. Wear what you want, we can meet afternoon and we'll figure it what to do along the way." You think your suggestion is fair yet it's crystal clear that it's not ideal for Jungkook, given the pout on his face.

"I don't want you to be my bro though," he whines.

"We start as bros or we're not hanging out." You're firm because you want this to work but you know yourself, and you need to take this slow.

"No wait, okay. Bro it is. You'll be the prettiest bro of mine."

"Jungkook," you snort, undignified. "That sounds weird."

He shrugs, "I'm weird when I'm with my friends. Especially when they're as pretty as you, it makes me all dumb because I can't seem to think straight anymore."

"Alright Romeo," you say, face flushing. "Save the rest for tomorrow."

<< ch. II ༓ ch. IV >> | series masterlist

A/N: This was originally going to be three chapters but it will be extended 😶 Lmk what you think and if you wanna to be tagged fill out tag form or ask 💞

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@hoseokteardrop @skzthinker @igchochi @jksjx

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[cherrsnut]

Hostage - Chapter 4

Finnick Odair x Healer!Reader

Summary: Up until now, your life has been a solitary one. Being the sole owner of an herbal shop, and apothecary to many fishermen who have been injured. Just when your life seemed to follow the routine you were so used to, your life turns a 360 when you’re suddenly taken away for the 67th Annual Hunger Games. This turn of events forces you to accept the idea the Grim Reaper is stalking close behind you, faster than you had hoped for. 

Tags: Extremely Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Typical THG Violence, Forced Prostitution, Forced Lab Rat, Injury, Mental Health Deterioration, Psychological/Physical Torture, Death, Alcohol/Drug Consumption, Medical Malpractice, Fluff (bc they deserve it).

Word Count: 8.1 k

Previous // Next

Chapter 4

Breathe. Just breathe. Just like what Edna said. 

The palms of your hands kept your face hidden. You were completely still, were it not for the trembles running along your spinal chord. Just remember what Edna taught you. 

Almost as if your late mentor were in her flesh and bones standing in front of you, with her usual critical frown looking down at you, you tried to breathe. Mouth agape, you sucked in air, so much so, the oxygen filled your lungs. 

It shoudn’t have surprised you in the least when the air particles felt heavier than normal, not with the countless times you were in this very position. 

So hopeless, and so hurt. It was especially that, a thundering spark hit you straight in the chest and it felt like your heart had collapsed in surrender. You hiccuped more breaths, the unbearable pain swirling and expanding throughout your body as the air squeezed itself in the inflamed throat, a throat abused by what felt like multiples splinters penetrating the back of your tongue. 

Oh, Edna, how much you missed her. She was everything you had. She was your warm home after a freezing storm, she was your teacher and caregiver, and she was your saviour sent for you to have another chance in life. That last thought hurt more, how much she struggled to raise you in such an unforgiving world, only for her efforts to be spent in vain. All the efforts she put into the woman you were now, all your knowledge, all your ideals, all your empathy; none of it mattered now when you would die out into the battlefield. 

The Capitol were stripping away all of Edna's perseverance throughout her life. First it was the Peacekeepers trying to take down and dismantle Edna’s and your’s name, and now they were trying to kill all knowledge Edna curated through the only living and breathing version of her, you. Now, you were going to be gone soon. And when you’d be buried under the hard stones, so did everything Edna did to contribute to the world. 

You gulped down a whine. Edna’s death was still submerged in your mind, like a hungry shark after smelling the most endearing blood drops scattered aorund in the ample sea. You still missed her, you longed for her heartily touch, for the cruel words that deep down you knew came from a place of love, for her warm presence against her cold facade, and you absolutely missed the way she looked at you, those blue greyish eyes that whispered doting poems about you in her head, never to be revealed and to be otherwise kept hidden hidden within her soul even in her deathbed. 

You were squinting your eyes, just as another tear threatened to spill all over your burning face. “Oh, fuck” you cursed between slow breaths. You went to grab the only thing that gave you comfort in that moment, alcohol. The wine was resting by your feet, camouflaged by your dark room. 

It was dimly lit, only to be illuminated by a red lamp sitting by your night stand, whose light bulb also stemmed from the same crimson colour. 

It was then you remembered the stories Edna used to tell you when it was past your bed time, and you supposed even in the surviving light of the already dark room, it would still salvage you from the night terrors.

You took a sip from the mouth of the bottle, and let the fresh liquid relieving your burning ache. The bottle was around halfway through, and you supposed you had a good resistance to it. That or your helpless body felt too overpowered by the grieving memories you still wanted to cling to. 

Another gulp, you didn’t want to think of her, but how coudn’t you? Everything you built yourself up to be, every dream or moment of motivation was because of her. 

You still wanted to live. That was what caused you most pain. Your pathetic mental state still whispered to keep going, to never give up in the face of danger. You still wanted to cure people, you liked that, right? 

That was your role in the town, to heal anyone who needed it. The whole point of your little existence was to help anyone who neded some healing, no matter how insignificant it may be. And for what? Where did empathic heart of yours take you? Straight to your umbearable pain you’d have to endure in the arena, like a trident piercing straight to your unnerving heart. 

You were nothing but a puppet to play with, and the more gruesome your death, the better. You coudn’t help your thought to follow that tormenting path. How would you die? Would it be just like what you had seen on the screen? A rusty knife to your neck? An arrow to your head? Or would you decapitated? You’d seen this when you were younger. You’d been barely ten then, and that’s the first and only time you had been able to see any scene from the Hunger Games.

Two more corners and to the right, that was the direction you had to take to get to the Herbal Shop, which meant you’d pass by the town’s plaza. You could only remember bits and pieces of the leading up, afterall your brain dictated that to be insignificant, but you fairly recalled that you were filled with newly cut supplies of essential herbs. Edna was by your side, she always was when she went out to collect her ingredients to make up new medicinal oils; maybe she always tagged you along with her to teach you, or just simply because she never fully trusted you to do the job by yourself correctly.

Walking by the familial streets, you would have ignored the otherwise lively plaza, often switching on any type of distracting sounds, and passing it by simple white noise. But this time, a foreign sound you hadn’t internalized took you out immediately, stopping in your tracks and following your head to see the unexpected commotion you never remembered seeing.

It was a loud shriek, the one only a mother could do while witnessing the torture of their own child. 

She was many feet away, and you coudn’t quite see her face. All you had taken in was the how her lone sobs echoed in every corner and alleyway, just like a telltale from a ghost roaming the streets of your town in a hurry to find their already dead son. 

It was in that moment you looked up, a big screen showing the livestreaming of the Hunger Games. You hadn’t seen the fight play out, and by the time your eyes took in the glimpse of what was performing, the Executioner’s act was done. There were two males, one whose hand held the axe of what sealed the fate of the deceased one on the floor, its head ditached from the rest of his body. You didn’t know from which District they were both, and you could only assume the decapitated one represented District 4. The other male, released his grip of his weapon and fell down behind him, retorting his facial expression in self-disgust, as he had sunked in the sin he just committed, just as the eyes of the one he killed, slowly faded into nothing but a vacant lot. 

Edna pulled you by the sleeves of your soiled shirt, and muttered a “Let’s go” before the both of you left the mourning mother to be handled by a few passerbyers who seeked to give her comfort. 

You nodded to your mentor, but your eyes still stayed on the mother crying out in pain, begging for whatever holy spirit to bring back her child in one piece. 

That memory was connected to another one. It had been months since your first time ever seeing the cruelty of the games, and the memory was very much still in your mind, even more when you closed your eyes and tried to sleep. The first month was the worst, having to wake up from very real bloody images from nightmares and scared to even fall back as sleep in the terror you’d find them once again. 

But after months you slowly got back to your usual self, one that mixed very well your constant exhaustion and your love to sleep as many hours as you could,  without any type of night monster to invade your dreams. 

So one day you came back to the Herbal Shop after being ordered to go and buy ingredients that were going to fill your bellies for the week. You asked Edna something that the older Carriers said in passing. 

“If I were to be decapitated, would I live for a few seconds more before I died?” that was your question. “Sometimes” was what she answered. “In some scenarios, you could take up at thirty seconds whilst still being alive, even without having your head” she developed further her previous answer.

Did that mean that was a possibility for you? For you to still having to feel that uberable pain of a stranger sawing yout head off, in those slow and excruciatingly painful thirty seconds? You hated thinking about this.

And there went your third gulp of the wine, all so you’d drown yourself in misery. You appreciated the sparkling of the wine, popping bubbled bursts against your blocked off despairing throat.

You thought of her again. You stopped your movements, not even the beverage was keeping you from thinking about your dead mentor. You set it down back to its previous place, next to your feet. Your fingers traced up every cell of your face, and stopped to rest you palms on your forehead. Your fingers snaked to to find a comfortable place just by the front of your hairline. And you cried, you couldn't do anything but cry out in pain.

“Edna” you whined so high pitched you didn’t recognize your own voice. Your cries and breaths stayed in that unnatural tone you had imposed yourself. Breathing hesistantely and desperately, while trying to taking in as many puffs of air as possible, and yet it was never sufficient for you. Your humid lashes found themselves completely wet, as waves of tears swam across your hot cheeckbones. 

Your eyes we tired, but at the same time, not tired enough for your depressed form, and definetely not tired enough for your cries to bounce from every sharp corner of your room.

A hand clasped around your shoulder. You were so deep into your own wretched form, you hadn’t noticed someone just came in. A thorn of embarrassment prickled your skin at the thought of someone seeing you cry as uncontrollable as you. And even if that thorn hurt you, there were still a million more stuck in the pores of your back from each and every mistake, regret and mourn from your years lived in your short life, it was easy for your to quickly ignore that one. 

You had been told that the walls were soundproof, that no one would be able to hear a peep coming from inside. And after Scarlett’s big talk about the trust she had in the technology of the Capitol, about just how “Top notch” the privacy was. You willingly gave into her prideful mouth, without considering the little fact that the door may be easy to acces in. Naturally, you felt ripped off, privacy my ass.

Mags’s fingers snaked her way up your face, like a snake in the name of retribution, and changing their biting nature into something calming and sweet. She moved your face to hers, and the sweetest smile decorated her pretty wrinkled lips. 

“I’m fine” a hoarse breath left your mouth. Those words you kept repeating again and again, today. A lie that didn’t even convince your stammering mind, which was soon to be lost in the gray anyway.

“Really…” you tried to persuade Mags, although the undertone was still directed in reassuring yourself. Because you were the only one who could keep you in check, you were the only one that was able to comfort yourself. 

The elder simply looked at you for many seconds, an intense glare slowly finding the cracked pieces of your irises you had worked so hard to hide them to the rest of the world. And this truth, only hurt Mags more.

You realized the woman sitting beside you wasn’t just a person of a few words, but rather she never said anything. And even as silence prevailed your saddening room, she very much felt present in there. Her comforting stace eased the nauseating pain you were enduring all by yourself. 

Her fingertips drew a ticklish circle around your cheek, and pushed back a string of hair behind your ear. The action itself whispered sweet nothings, affectionate acts in the form of unspoken words, all because of her empathy towards you. 

She always was persistent with herself, if she were to be mentor of many fallen Tributes, she would still lift her head high and carry on her duty as effectively as she could. Especially considering Finnick returned from the arena, it was then, she was sure she wanted to learn about the people from her District, and wanted to see them grow as adults, no matter how slim their chances of their survival actually were. 

A wider smile. The wrinkles that stayed in her face, the lines of a visual representation of her old an frail body, and yet still peaceful and optimistic in the face of the cruel fate of this world. 

Another glint of hope came across her eyes as her hands moved down to your back, while the other stayed at the side of your face. The exhaustion from your long day finally crashing down, and you felt the weight of your head leaning against her smooth palm.

“Edna… She was my teacher…” You explained to Mags. It wasn’t like she had asked you personally, but you felt like you had to get it off your chest. Maybe it was from your tiredness, or perhaps you simply just moved another stage of vulnerability with Mags, but your fuzzy mind gave up on the idea of trying to switch topics, and for the first time, you had found yourself someone who was more stubborn than you. 

The elder was in a way familiar with the way she tried to comfort everyone she deemed necessary for her reassuring eyes, but she was nothing like Edna. Both of them were total polar opposites, but even being so different from each other, you found a piece of Edna inside of her, the sweet motherly care of helping the younger folks, to be present in their good, bad, and their dirt. Even being so different, they still fell under the same identical box, they showed them this delicate and vulnerable side, even to the people outside their family, to total strangers that were goners.

You coudn’t stop once you started. Mags never gave a  hint or indication she had asked for the identity of your passed mentor, or what it had meant for you for so many years. But a little voice whispered your brain to keep going, and let our your innermost feelings run wild instead of keeping it hidden for so many years like you had. 

“She found me when I was four. And she took me in” you cracked your voice. The spilling tears were dampening Mags palm, squeezing themselves between her fingers and flowing to her wrist and down her arm. God, this was painful. You felt absolutely naked right then, so see-through to her, so vulnerable you could be stomped in any minute. Like a little lost kitten scared of the wide world. You didn’t like that, it was foreign and it felt very much out of your own control. But the demanding sensation only kept resisting against your opposing thoughts. 

“She didn’t have to, but she did. And for that, I’ll be in forever debt with her.” you sobbed harder, trying to hide back a cough from your raging salty tears streaming to the corner of your mouth, following further into your inflamed throat. 

Mags only looked at you, a sad smile hanging from the rest of her melancholic expression. You scanned her features more, from her sypmtathetic eyes to her nose and mouth, tracing her face with your very red and traveling eyes. 

You looked back up at her eyes, just as if they were calling for yours. Begging you to look up at her calming ones. You almost skipped a beat, feeling like something with heavy weight crashed down your heart. Her eyes were filled so many different things that would drive you to the edge of a cliff, to submerge further into the depths of the salty foam you were growing used to. She showed a vulnerable side of her, or perhaps they were telling you, you were safe in her arms and gaze. 

But the thing that startled you most, was her dearing gaze to you, filled with the honey-love you grew distant since Edna’s death. Something you thought you forgot, and you never imagined Mags would be the next person to give that to you. It shocked you for a second, all because you had confused her for Edna for a moment.

“Oh, Mags” you cried lowly. You swung yourself to you new mentor, wrapping around your arms around her frail and much smaller body. You found stability by the back of her neck, leaning deeper into her touch. You didn’t want her seeing you so broken down and depressed. You didn’t want to have see her roaming eyes promising you a new home you could stay the night. You hated it, because everything Mags did, reminded you of Edna, and the hurt that came from her returning image clasped in your tumultuous mind. 

Mags just grabbed your scalp and drew lovely circles around it, keeping you closer to her. The helpless you, coudn’t help but sob harder against her shoulder, screaming out the pain you kept hidden and locked away from everyone else to see. 

Maybe tonight you’d stay by Mags warm house. In a way, it made you feel closer to Edna, or at least the presence she left on earth. The ghostly finger touches you had oh so missed trailed up your back, and it turned your hair on end by the vertical column, just as if the spirit of Edna was standing beside you, wanting to give you the touches she missed giving you. Yeah, you’d stay by Mag’s tonight. 

Mags was resurfacing nostalgic memories of Edna, the ones you missed the most about the time you had spent with your mentor together. And maybe for tonight, you’d stay by Mag’s to feel closer to the ghost of the person you loved the most. But only for tonight, because you knew too well it was not worth getting used to someone’s love too much, not when your days alive were numbered.

Your senses were completely numbed, aside from that disgusting taste in your tongue. You coughed up some more, while your eyes swelled up with tiny prickly tears. They didn’t come from sadness, but from an overexertion of your body. You felt like your face was stomped by giant feet, just as you tried to squeeze your throat to purge the remaining acidic vomit. 

And once your started, you coudn’t stop the little squirts exerting out your tongue. You coughed again, your hand gripping tight onto the toilet cover that was leaning up. Its not like it was dark, the automatic lights had found your clumsy movements the very moment you had walked into the bathroom, and in the sheer brightness of the room, the was lamp neatly placed on the middle of the ceiling. 

The shining light was betraying your vision by the sheer brightness in the middle of the dark night, and you thanked that your head was covering the main source, otherwise the lamp would burned right behind your pupils. And while you were only able to squint just slightly your eyes, you could very much take in the piece of art of your vomit right in front of you.

An escaped grunt hoarsed through every vocal chord you could muster, the sight of the shortcakes you had to expulse from your belly, as a means to get rid off the alcohol in your system. You lamented then, having to see the mushy lumps of a pale yellow colour that left you as equally revolting in both your mouth and sight.

You closed your eyes in exhaustion. You were in a horrible state. A line of saliva, slightly pigmented of that horrible color, travelled down to join what used to be the delicate food of the Capitol. You spat down into the toilet a few times more, desperately trying to take away the acidic taste that seemed to only grow stronger by the second.

Your hand traveled wobbly to get toilet paper. It clanged and banged everywhere before achieving the simple task of getting something to clean yourself up. You gripped onto the piece of paper and fastly brought it up to your mouth. 

The claustrophobia from the tiny compact space you locked yourself in was starting to eat your soul away, and you let another blasphemial word as another of the many waves of nausea hit you point blank.

A flashing light filled your sight for barely a second, knocking yourself to the side of the toilet. You recomposed yourself, at least tried to by using the wall to lean your back with. And all because of the rapid movement of snatching away the toilet paper so your fingers wouldn't get lost in the way back. You were in a horrible state. 

Your fingertips brushed past your lips against the thin layered paper, in hopes it would take away remains of the vomit scattered around the corners of your mouth, your mind was too fuzzy to even deal with the possibility that your clothes may be stained by the disgusting substance.  All the while, cursing at yourself for the moment you had the genius idea to drink as a means to ease your depressive state. 

Another spit joined the purged covered inside of the toilet bowl. More tired breaths ragged around in the air of the bathroom. Anyone would assume you had run away from an angry bear with the determination filled in her mind of protecting her cubs. And while you were trying to escape her grasp, the mother bear saw the opportunity for their next meal in you; of course, this would have been an interesting anecdote, if it weren't for the fact that you never came across a bear in your life, with the addition that you were in a slightly different situation, a story that had to do with decorating with putrid the inside of the toilet. 

You threw away the stained paper, and flushed it. Earning a mentally pat on your back, no matter how silly, you were proud you were able to do that much.

Next step, you needed to leave the bathroom. You managed to get on your feet by gripping your hand onto the sink. Somehow, by using your whole force of your nonexistat  tricep muscles, you got up in a stamering manner. Moaning after noticing your legs were trembling

Your feet had a big gap in between, and you once again cursed, this time outwardly at the sudden realization, your drunken legs refused to move accordingly. Just as if they had a brain on their own, and claiming they were to tired to do the task, and completely shut off. You coudn’t feel your knees, and that was good indicator, that your legs were going to be really difficult to handle for your mission, which consisted of making your way to your room.

You coudn’t believe your head was the most sober of all the your body parts, and now you had to manage your disoriented legs that didn’t seem to know from left to right. 

Another flash of nausea slapped you across the face, leaving your head hunged low. You were glad your hands were still holding onto dear life to the sink. Otherwise you were sure you would have fallen face down to the pretty white tiles of the floor. And you would have lost some teeth for sure, you drunkenly thought. 

This was a bad idea. You moved your head to see your own reflection, but you coudn’t. Everything was just jumbles of your eyes and mouth disorderly moved against each other. Even when you concentrated your glare to see yourself in the real you, what reflected back seemed the picture drawn by a small infant with no sense of direction or scale. You were absolutely wasted. 

You groaned at your clumsy eyesight, and the more you seemed to curse at yourself, it became more nervous, and the moving images became more agitated. You blinked slowly in the low hopes it would help your vision to become more stable. 

“Fuck…” you hoarsed out. The alcohol was still burning you in your veins. You had gotten to the bathroom to take out the uncontrollable depressant. But even when vomiting it out, you soon realized you had gotten worse, and you groaned at the idea that maybe pure alcohol filled your senses now that your only source of food was gone. 

“Shit, fuck” you continued on, you didn’t know what else to say but curse at everything, and especially at yourself. You just needed to get to your room, it would take twenty steps at most. You gulped down hard readying yourself to do what seemed the most difficult task known to mankind. 

“Just twenty steps” your words jumbled around in the thin air, the nonsense of what came out of your vocal chords were soon lost anyway. You sighed, and your eyes locked onto the door handle, or at least the best it could with your drunk eyes. With a mental slap on the back to fill you up in determination, you found your target for your next move.

You counted to three and jumped to your target to find stability from your lazy legs that didn't want to work. Everything seemed to go in slow motion, which was probably from the nausea disturbing all your six senses. A despairing emotion run along with the intoxicated drug in your veins; just as you brushed past the shining metal handle, so close you could feel the cold emanating from it, someone opened it before you could even touch it. And that was enough for your body to try and convince your stubborn mind to simply give up. 

You fell down, just by the feet of a person you coudn’t help but feel nothing but resentment. Your head was out the doorway, in full view of the dimly lit salon car. 

Your already migraine got worse from the impact, and now you had to deal with not only the internal pain from your head, but the external one as well when your forehead took the blow to the floor. And for once you thanked you were so out of your own control. Your banged forehead’s pain was already fading away, and you knew if you were completely conscient that would hurt like a rock throw straight to your body. 

But in good, there’s bad, and so another complication filled you up. Your head was spiraling and seeing a million stars that were already confusing your already messed up head. 

You simply stayed still, just as you mentally wove a white flag to give up on this impossible mission.There was no way you’d make it to your room in your condition, especially not when your body remained on the floor of the bathroom. Your body ceased all the strength your brain kept ordering, and even when pressuring them to do their job as your limbs, they were on a strike and refused to even want to move an inch by the nauseating exhaustion.

You heard a low chuckle, and you felt it was within your right to feel at the very least annoyed by whoever that was. Your brain was multitasking at this point, and was ready to retort something sarcastic back, but you coudn’t. You body was starting to get comfortable in the position it had taken in your fall, and to your head’s dismay, ready to slumber for the night. 

So you closed your eyes to rest, the thought of another person present already erased by your tiredness. Just as you drifted to sleep, the repeated words you wrote in your mind over and over again, as a means to make sure your remembered your lesson would cling to you. Never. Again.

That person though, didn’t mind your new sleeping bed, and got down to your eye level. A shit-eating grin among his pretty features. God he was so gorgeous even when you coudn’t see his face straight, all in crazy hazy motions swirling around your vision, you could only but daydream about his outstanding beauty.

“You alright there, love?” his raspy voice came in contact with your ears. He was like a beautiful god, one that anyone upon seeing him could agree was the definition of a sculptural piece of art, the type of god that could ask anyone to join him in his darkest desires and anyone would accept without hesitation.

He was any girl’s daydream man, but in that very moment his, awoken and overly energetic presence, frustrated your sleep deprived muscles. You groaned at him in response, too out of reality to even care. The mix of your drunk noises and the blocked sounds through the tiles of the floor, because you were still face down, only amused Finnick further. “What was that? Couldn’t quite understand you” he teased next to your limp form. 

“Wha do chu think?” you spit back at him with slow syllables. “If chu could felp, thad be gret” you struggled to say the words. And you were sure they sounded worse in the ears of a sober person who wasn’t going through a hell hole like you were. 

You tried to move your head on the side, all to give him the privilege of letting the man in front of you, hear you better. 

He could only chuckle more at that. Even in your drunken state you could still see the lines of his smile, and for a moment you thought you were in a some sort of dream. There was no way someone that beautiful could exist, and it became stranger to you when he was simpy talking to you normally. Another drunk thought passed by your mind, and you were sure if he wanted to, that smile could be the tide to end all catalystic world wars. You were in a trace, and rightfully so, it was impossible for anyone not to fantasize by a guy like him.

You wanted to touch his face, but your fingertips stubbornly stuck themselves to the floor. Then it dawned on you on a mortyfying fact, you were in the bathroom floor, face down after just vomiting, and very much ready to sleep in there, until morning shined bright throught the windows.

Well, that was embarrassing. And you had to slap yourself again within the depths of your consciousness.

“Here. Let me-” he cut himself, and you felt his creeping fingers walking over you waist, so light and ticklish, that even after being so numb you could feel this featherly touches. His built body may be seen to be hard, which probably was, but you found yourself learning he also could be as soft as the dry falling leaves of fall. 

His hand gripped onto he corner of your waist, and after placing your closest hand over his neck and hook it around the arch of his shoulder by the side of his face. Letting out a shaky breath, he helped you up after exercising his muscles with the weight of your corpse. 

But even so, you were fascinated just how he was able to lift you up in your silly body. This was most girls deepest desire, and you had to suppress a giggle from forming in your heart. All the while he was holding you in that hypnotic state. It was hard for your mind not to linger anywhere other than him. 

Your feet touched ground and you were extremely thankful to find the contact of the tiles at the flat of your feet. Your heavy head hunged low. You made a move to look up at him, and he was still holding onto your waist, untrustworthy of your senseless state.

You were sure he squeezed at your side playfully several times. It felt oddly affectionate, but for your hazy brain, it translated that and got even sleepier by those light tuches. 

“There you go” he whispered at the side of your face. Unknowing to him that he left a burning mark right on your flustered ears. An inflaming sensation traveled along your every bloody vein, making it a more vibrant red, more colourful than what’s supposed to be. The living corpse of your body felt very much ligher against his ticklish fingers, like a flowing feather through the wind. Both of your irises met his, and his close proximity left you in the silence of your shyness.

He let out a husky giggle out at your expression. “Don’t look at me like that. Might start thinking there’s something deeper you want to tell me” he mumbled with a cheeky grin along his lips. His teeth were out in the wild, white and as strong as his unfiltered words.

Oh, how it irritated you his smuggish intention; but how much you loved seeing his lovely face complexion just the same. You coudn’t deny it, and he wasn’t blind either, he knows just how everyone looks at him, Finnick was built like an ancient Greek god. 

You tilted your head to the side, this time careful not dragging yourself yet another nauseating impact from the sudden movement. You spoke some drunken mutter that was difficult to understand, so much you had confused yourself as well.

“You’re so pretty” you repeated those words that were incomprehensible for the English language. But Finnick had understood you the first time, and so when you confirmed for a second time, he was slightly taken aback from the boldness of you words. 

Your constant thought pattern whenever you thought of the man just beside you, never came from a place of infatuation, and he could feel it in the way the sclera of your eyes shone, and the way you mustered those words, it was from utter fascination, not so much from than seductive desire. 

A laughing huff escaped though his lips just as a giggle rang through his vocal chords in amusing disbelief. 

You eyes pierced his soul. The intention of his words came rather late to your consciousness, and you blamed the alcoholic drink for the slow pace of your current thought process. And you made yet another mental note, never listen to Scarlett’s recommendation of especially alcoholic drinks, in the off chance that the concentrated drink’s percentage would be through the roof. Really, never again.

An annoyed puff forced out of your mouth. His mocking laugh felt unnecessary to your ears, especially in this vulnerable position you just got in. You moved your legs, and you were glad they had properly woken from the sleepy illusion from a minute ago. You moved forward, at least tried to, and away from his presence.

You reprimanded the alcoholic you. The drunk you seemed to more jumpy, and let off harmless confessions. It was obvious the wine riled your sensitive senses up, especially when they learned from your little secret of your physical attraction of the the one and only, Finnick Odair. 

The drunken you had declared your concient mind’s sole enemy; as sneaky as a scorpion, camouflaging itself as to get unnoticed, only to strike you when you were in your most vulnerable, which meant targeting the very much good looking man close to you. Yeah, you were convinced the drunk you had something agasint the concient you. 

“Anyway. Tanks, an Goodnight-” You spoke best you could, and made your way ahead of you. 

You tried to walk away, before yet another disastrous fall. The drunk you had definitely had something against you. Your legs seemed to twist themselves into a senseless knot from your numb knees and before you could even recognize the problem, your vision fell apart instantly. Again another wave of nausea punched you straight in the jaw. Luckily your quick hand grabbed onto the wall next to you, refusing on having to deal the earlier’s ordeal. 

You cursed out again, followed by a groan in pain. Your hand crept to the side of your head to try and keep your vision still in vain. God, you absolutely hated this. 

Another low chuckle from the man behind you was present in the air both of you breathed in. And you turned around, a disapproving glare threatening him to keep going on his laughing spree, which only made him find you all the more amusing.

You sighed defeated. A pointed migraine was swirling in the sea of you mind, which in turn only made the grip of your hand stronger in your face. You scrunched up your nose in pain, crumpling your features. 

Just as you were losing yourself from the pain of your headache, you body got completely readjusted. Your burning head very much still present and screaming for your attention, and if it that wasn’t hard enough to deal that alone, your mind got once again disoriented. After tonight you knew, you would definitely quit alcohol altogether. 

All your blood crashed down to your head, leaving you with a pressured face, and it was starting to feel painful. God, your brain was suffering from all stages of Hell all at the same time. The pain was overtaking your body, and you ceased all your movement. In that very moment you welcomed the idea of dying if it meant stopping your outstanding headache.

With your head low and you arms flying over them, or better said below them as gravity did its work , you noticed the pointy bulk of muscle was just below your breast, and you figured Finnick had to be securing you with his arm over the back of your knees.

Finnick seemed to have the brilliant idea to throw you over his shoulder like a big heavy sack of dead fish ready to be sold off to the market. 

Your hands fell to whatever thing you could find, which happened to be his shirt. You had figured he had manhandled to be in that position, because of the way your nose and forehead kept making contact to a broad smooth surface, one that emanated sweet warmth, and you could drown in his natural thick scent. 

It had been barely half a minute, although for you it felt almost like an eternity from the succumbed curse of the ugly pain in your head, whoose fault was none other but the man holding you tight over him. It’s not like you put up a fight anyway, already too weak and defeated to even flinch at the scorching hurt. 

So you welcemed the sea of covers and pillows when you were plopped down all of a sudden. Your before hurting eyes that you could barely manage to even open them, felt confident enough to redo the task they weren’t able to do a few seconds ago, and you looked up at the ceiling. 

You were safe now, you were safer in here. Even in the amidst of your spiraling mind, you could that much, feel relaxed enough to ready yourself to soon sleep. You didn’t need to dance in utter misery of your drunken state like before, like a blind duck that also happened to have twisted his ankle. 

The new room also brought short nostalgic memories, which evaporated the little optimism you would have gathered before you died, and who knows, maybe it would be the last time you’d feel truly at peace. The new ambience still had that heavy sour mood from when you had talked to Mags, from when she had to comforted you. The suffocating air was still like a toxic gas, and you regretted that you still let the melancholy poison you. 

Finnick sat down beside you. A smirk creeping his beautiful facade just as he looked at your form, still in his playful mood after having you found on the floor almost passed out. It was amusing in a way, it had to do more about the way you responded to him that entertained him to go further in his banter.

He quickly took notice of your sudden somber expression, and with that the bits and cracks that you body spoke. The energy from before was all but gone now. Maybe you were emotional because you were drunk, but in that moment you were ready to cry off yourself to sleep in self pity, right then and there with or without Finnick.

You curled your arms around yourself, trying to imitate the warm hug that Mags had given you earlier, but to no avail. It was impossible for you to even recreate a feeling that felt soul crashing from such a simple act. Because afterall, it was something that had left you taken apart so easily. 

You bent your knees slightly up. You were lying on your side, and Finnick could feel the mournful look without the need to see your eyes. But when he did, he heard the breaking crack of his heart. That hurt had haunted him since the day the Reaping when it took him two years ago.

“Thank you” you muttered with the ringing of you vocal chords. And he answered in courtesy, his raspy tone still vabirating each words. “No problem”

Both of you let the spoken words be slowly evaporated through the air, with nothing else to add in. Finnick took the courage to look at you once again, and you had taken in his concerned expression feeling in every nerve cell. You also realized the presence of his scanning eyes watching over your still form like a creeper of the night. But you were too comfortable in your position, too tired and depressed to mind it, so you let him be. 

The silent particles the both of you shared swirlied around through the air like a little gust of wind between your breathing forms. You wanted to cry again, but you lost the capability to even do that, and as another amusing thought came across your senses, was still fully loaded with grief’s emptiness. I cried so much, I don’t have any more tears to spare. 

Finnick felt impotent there, unlike you, he had volunteered to be in Games. He considered that to be his greatest mistake, all because he thought it would be just fun and games, being brainwashed that it was more light hearted than what the actual suffocating reality really was, and oh boy did reality run him over. Just like a deer, and the unchanging decision of willingly walk in the arena a unmercyful fast truck. 

He got up whilst you were still submerged under powerlessness; like the little dry kisses brushing against your back, whispering in the most seductive way, a despairing and exhasuting prediction, one that had you convinced, you were simply just a dead girl walking. 

His head turned around to look at you once again, and it confused you as to why he was apologizing within the depths of his sea eyes. So he went and opened his mouth to say something, to ask you if you were alright. But he closed his lips momentarily after, knowing fully well that you weren’t. 

He had and internal debate between mixing opinions. Your ominous stance was begging him to ask about your own welfare, and maybe that was a signal he should stay for a while longer until he could hear the breaths of your sleeping form. But then again, he wasn’t sure your empty eyes longed for sympathetic eyes, the ones from a total stranger that as far as he knew, you probably thought of him as a calculated murderer, and maybe then his presence was nothing but a burden in your heavy shoulders. 

“Hey, Finnick?” your weak voice alerted his attention. He turned his head, he was grateful that you’d taken him out of his own thoughts. He locked his eyes on your very irises, studying them as a means to try and understand the question before you’d even formulated it. “You think I’m going to die?” 

He looked away. Although in normal circumstances your drunken accent might have been a delight to his ears, and he would be ready to tease you further with that. But right now, the drunken syllables that came out of your mouth were deafening, only wanting to take in and alaysze the question itself. 

You knew what you had asked him went straight to him like an unexpected bullet, and to his dismay, he wasn’t wearing any bulletproof gear to save him from you. He opened his mouth, and even in your swirling vision you could see the ugly truth hidden somwehere within him, and opting to say sweet lie with a cherry pop on top. “Please, be honest with me” you added in.

The past victor let out a stilled breath before speaking. “Yeah…” Finnick finally said.The words you didn’t want to hear, broke your jaw like an incoming brick to your face. And yet, although he was speaking his truth, he seemed conflicted with what he said.

You knew this would be his answer, so why did it hurt you so much? Perhaps it was his confirmation from the bitter words from your inner monsters, and finally you felt your reality crumbling down. And even in that emotional turmoil, you had to agree with Finnick, because deep down you knew that your betraying mind was right all along “I thought so too”.

Something gripped onto your throat again, a grieving pain of the knowledge you were most likely going to die. Your expression started to wrinkle in on itself, just as you felt like something had caught onto you leg and pulled you deeper in to the poisonous sea, making sure you’d drown yourself in further agony. Finnick was just standing there, and he felt your sea whirlwind like he was there with you, joining you in the mercifuless sea currents that started to leak from your room with dark muggy water. 

Finnick could only but feel your agonizing stare, and within his empathy, he wanted to say something to you. Because your dreadful pupils struck him all over his body like thin needles. 

“But something I learned through the Games is that, its supposed to be planned to be irregular. Even if you aren’t as strong as others, you could still have a chance to survive” he added to reassure you. Finnick hoped that would set you mind at ease, at least before you’d hit the arena. He wanted to drift away the consternation from your scraping mind, and let it become more level headed. 

Soon all of you would arrive at the Capitol, and for a chance for either Vito or you to survive, you’d need to be put away the insanity that was slowly licking your body, and to focus on a plan. To scheme up ways into getting sponsors, to anylyse the rest of the player coldy, but the most difficult one was to gather up ideas whilst in the fighting arena while pressuring your mind to stay sane throughout all of it. “Its intention is for anyone to be able to win this. Its not a competition, just pure entertainment”.

You stayed silent, taking in everything your mentor was telling you. In a way it helped you thinking of him that way. He may be just a year older than you, but he was still your mentor, and he was supposed to help you survive this afterall. 

“Thank you,” you were slowly surrendering yourself to the cage of sleep, one where you wished for your night terrors to leave for another night. A sleep deprived voice was all Finnick could hear, the raspy weak tones from your smnolent voice made Finnick content enough to set his mind at ease for the night. “For everything”

The energy you wasted in the last day was too much for your body to handle, and you felt optimistic enough to finally go to sleep without any negative energy swimming across your mind. 

Finnick chuckled, he repeated himself again. “No problem, Dove” he grinned at you. He found you so endearing, especially with the image of you closed eyes, and your mouth half opened, in a way so peaceful, like nothing lurking between the shadows could attack you.

“Good night” you lastly said slowly crawling to your sleeping chamber in the depths of you soul. 

Finnick grinned further and said a “Good night” back to you. 

The last images before you went to sleep were of him. The drawing of his face in your imaginary world, and you wished you could dream of him that night. The world made him almost untouchable, but it was surreal to you about his caring slip ups you had discovered that night; his soft face, feathery gentle hands, and his warm whispering voice brushing your ear like the slight breeze of the forest.

Yeah, you wanted to sleep with that in mind, with the ilusion of him. 

  

Previous // Next

NOW, this was a way longer chapter than I had intended, so you'll hopefully enjoy it cuz DAMN!

TagList:  @marvelescvpe @meri-soni-meri-tamanna

[sharkgirldick]

Out of curiosity, exactly which patriarchal privileges do trans men get? Cuz I'm pretty sure privilege comes from the way others perceive you and trans men still are not perceived as "real men" even - or especially - in a patriarchal society, unless it's convenient for them to be demonized.

Privilege isn't something someone can just *get*. It's not some magical thing that's granted to you. People either have it or they don't.

Saying trans men have privilege because we live in a patriarchal society is so asinine. Did they have privilege before they came out? Or after? Or does the privilege start when they pass? And then, wouldn't that be more like passing privilege? As in, they're treated better because they're perceived as cis, not because they're perceived as a man?

ALL transgenderism is hated under patriarchy, and you could just as easily argue that a trans woman benefits from it because they were raised being perceived as a boy. But that would be fucking stupid and no one in their right mind would say that and actually mean it - I know I don't.

So how about instead of "making points" or taking grand stances about trans men vs trans women and which one is more oppressed or more privileged or blah blah blah blah blah, just acknowledge that being trans sucks for everyone in different ways, that our oppressors want all of us dead, and that black trans people have it worse than you and I do.

Perception is only one part of privilege. Ultimately, it stems from having an unequal society. In a society where men are more valued than women (or any other sex/gender) like ours, men have male privilege.

You can, in fact, gain and lose some forms of privilege. Being able bodied, for example, is itself a privileged position in society that one can lose through disease or injury.

If we, as trans people, make the statement one's gender isn't determined by sex (itself a flawed idea), then in the transition from female to male you take on the social status that is male, both the good and the bad. That isn't a personal value call. I have no issues with trans men, and I would never make the claim that trans men don't have their own unique problems. Like you said, it would be fucking stupid to try to claim that.

As I stated before, having multiple axes of oppression doesn't cancel out privilege and having privilege doesn't automatically make your life better. Being transgender is a lower status in our society that directly conflicts with being a man in trans men's case.

[animeismyhappyplace]

Battle Scars and Love Confessions

This is my own work! Please do not repost or translate without permission! Minors DNI or you'll be blocked, thank you!

Tachihara Michizou x Female Reader Smut

Word count: 3,208

Warnings: Pet names, cursing, female and male receiving oral, 69 sex position, probably slight OOC Tachihara

Y/N and Tachihara have been on a important mission for Mori scouting another ability organisation when Tachihara becomes injured trying to save his partner. As she helps patch him up feelings are revealed and it leads to a spicy evening spent together.

Y/N and Tachihara Michizou have been on an undercover mission for weeks scouting out a rival organisation for Mori however it turns out they've been being watched themselves. The organisations ability users landed an attack on the duo which led to Tachihara receiving a cut across his chest while trying to protect Y/N. The pair have finally made it to her apartment where they can tend to his wound.

"Fuck... Can you help me with this Y/N? It hurts so fuckin' bad" Tachihara grunts out as he applies pressure to his chest to stem the bleeding. "Shit shit... One second" She hisses out as she rushes them into her apartment, setting Tachihara down on her sofa as she gets out her first aid kit "I need to clean it alright? So it doesn't get infected" She looks at him for a moment before applying some alcohol rub to a clean cloth and starts to gently dab at the open wound.

The man sucks in a breath through gritted teeth "Shit... Thanks..." He sighs softly as he watches her work, feeling grateful for her help. His eyes wander over her body as she works, admiring how beautiful she was despite being covered in his blood. It made him feel even more helpless than usual. Y/N nods her response trying not to focus on the fact that her crush in half naked in front of her as she focuses on cleaning the cut as best she can without interrupting the start of the healing process "You doing okay? Other than you know... The obvious?" She asks carefully while working "Yeah," He answers honestly, not wanting to burden her any further than necessary. "It's just really painful." He winces slightly as she cleanses the wound.

"I know I'm sorry" She frowns as she finishes up, throwing the bloody rags into a rubbish bag before wrapping a clean bandage around his chest "You need to be more careful next time" She scolds him gently "Sorry" he mumbles quietly, embarrassed by his own brash actions. He tries to ignore the throbbing sensation from his wound, focusing instead on thanking her once again for taking care of the injury. She sighs softly before rubbing his leg gently from her place on the floor "You don't gotta apologise just... Please be more careful. I don't like seeing my best friend hurt" The woman before him smiles sadly "I will" He promises solemnly, trying to reassure her that he will not end up in this situation again.

Nodding she moves to throw away her used supplies "You gonna be able to get home in this state? I kinda feel like you should stay here tonight so you've got someone watching you" She suggests joining him on the sofa "Thanks" he says gratefully as he watches her move around the small apartment "You can take my bed and I'll stay here on the sofa" She grabs and spare pillows and blankets laying them down on the floor "There's no way I'm taking your bed! If I'm sleeping in your bed then you're staying with me!" He protests firmly, sitting up quickly grunting a little in the process at the pain in his chest and grabs her arm pulling her towards him "We both need some rest after our mission and all the bullshit we went through today" He tells her stubbornly.

She flushes at his words "We can't Tachi... You'd see me in a vulnerable state, What if I'm an awful person to sleep beside and I hurt you" She giggles nervously "Aww come on..." He whines playfully, leaning back against the sofa "It won't kill us to spend one night in the same bed" The ginger haired man winks at her teasingly, hoping to ease her worries about being alone with him in such close proximity. "O-Okay if you're sure you don't mind" Y/N gulps down her nerves at being in a bed with the man she's had a huge crush on since he joined the Port Mafia "I think I've got some of your old clothes stashed here somewhere from previous missions".

He nods happily as he waits for her to find something comfortable for him to wear, as he sits there silently watching her search through the closet he tries to ignore how hot she makes him feel "Do you have anything you want to talk about since we're alone?" He asks softly, curious about her thoughts on their relationship, he's never been sure if the woman before he reciprocates his feelings. She finally finds him some comfy clothes to sleep in and let's him change in peace before tilting her head to the side as she thinks once he rejoins her "Like what Tachi?" He smirks at her question, his heart skiping a beat when he sees her looking at him admiringly.

"I don't think I've got anything to ask you, how about you? Do you have any questions for me?" She smiles at him reassuringly. He looks at her blankly for a moment before huffing out a shaky breath "I was thinking about us"

"Us? What about us Tachi? I'm confused" She looks at him with her brows furrowed, he blinks at her confusedly before frowning "You truly don't know?" He clicks his tongue as he watches her nod "Y/N I LIKE you... I like like you" He stutters out turning away from her as he blushes a dark red he didn't think he would have to spell it out for her like that.

Her eyes widen slightly as she lets out a shaky breath "O-Oh... I didn't realise" She mutters as she blushes as dark as her male companion "Well that's good because... I like you too" She looks down away from his eyes as he takes a deep breath before looking back at her "Well that's a relief" He chuckles as he shakes his head "You gonna let me take you out when we're next free, like on a date?" He smiles at her hopefully. Y/N smiles blindingly at him and nods enthusiastically "I'd love to go on a date with you Tachi!". He grins widely at her enthusiasm before nodding "Good! Then we'll make sure to plan something special for our first date~" He winks at her playfully as she giggles watching the man she admires so much "Is it gonna be awkward that we're spending a night in the same bed?" She bites her lip as she looks up at him.

He laughs lightly at her comment "No way, we're both adults after all." He says with a smirk "Besides, who would ever want to sleep alone anyway?" He leans his arm against the edge of the sofa behind them and puts an arm around her shoulder affectionately pulling her closer "That's true I'd much rather sleep beside you" She curls her arms around his neck playing with the baby hairs that sit at the edge of his hair line. His face lights up as he hears this and wraps his other arm around her waist "So what are our plans tonight then?" He asks softly as he moves a hand down to rub her thigh gently while smirking at her "Well I suppose that's up to you Tachi" She grins mischievously at him before pulling his face down to gently kiss his lips.

He kisses her back deeply savoring every second of their passionate embrace before breaking off the kiss and smiling lovingly at her "What do you say we take this to the bedroom" He looks into her eyes to see her reaction "I'd really like that" She kisses him again slowly and passionately as she climbs into his lap to deepen the kiss, Tachihara can't help but release a small hiss as she bumps against his chest but recovers before Y/N can realise she momentairly hurt him. He returns her kiss eagerly wrapping his hands around her waist as they continue making out on the couch until finally he lifts her up and carrys her to the bedroom where he pulls away leaving her breathless.

Tachihara pushes her back into her bedroom wall sliding himself in-between her legs as he kisses her roughly stroking his left hand along her side as his right hand holds onto the wall as she grunts softly at the pressure against her back "Fuck Tachi... I want you" He groans softly at her words as he feels himself start to harden against her "Fuck baby... You don't know how long I've wanted to hear you say those words" Y/N nods knowing she feels exactly how he's feeling and grips the back of his head pulling him back to her lips as she slips her tongue into his mouth while pushing her clothed pussy against his groin, he moans softly as he feels her press herself against him.

Tachihara wraps his hands under her thighs and lifts her off to wall to throw her gently onto her bed "I'm going to have you screaming my name by the end of tonight" He smirks devilishly at her from the edge of her bed. He stands above her looking down lustfully as she beckons his over to her with her finger. Tachihara crawls onto the bed and stops when he's finally on top of her with his thighs caging her own in. Y/N reaches her hands up to his shoulders caressing his soft unmarked skin "I've wanted you for so long Tachi".

He leans forward kissing her deeply before breaking the kiss and staring deep into her eyes "You're mine now, forever." He says firmly before moving lower to kiss her neck gently. She smiles and repeats his sentiment back "I'm yours and you are mine Tachihara Michizou" She tilts her head backwards a little to give him more room as he starts to gently suck marks into her neck in-between kisses marking her as his own while she keens for him. He continues to mark her body slowly making sure that every inch of her was marked by his presence leaving no part untouched or unclaimed. His cock twitches slightly in anticipation of claiming her completely.

Hayley's upper body is now littered with bruising marks and soft bites as she pants softly "Stop teasing me" She whines out to him while spreading her legs open and pulling at her t-shirt, he chuckles lightly biting down on her shoulder blade "Am I taking too long baby?" He teases her playfully as he starts to strip her body of her clothing then removing his own. He appreciates her body for a moment eyes lingering on her pert nipples before leaning forward to take one of her sensitive buds into his waiting mouth

As his lips wrap around her hard nipple she lets out a soft whine at the contact "Please Tachi" She threads her fingers through his hair while he hums happily against her nipple as he licks and sucks at it sending shivers down her spine. Her pussy gets wetter by the second from just having her breasts played with. The feeling of being teased drives her crazy. He pulls away smiling at her "So needy aren't we?" He asks with a smirk stretching across his lips, she nods her head while pouting at him "Just want you" She wraps her arms around his neck, pushing him back on his haunches as she climbs into his lap.

He grins widely as she straddles him wrapping her legs around his waist. He looks up at her capturing her lips in an aggressive kiss full of tongue and heat pushing all of his untold emotions into her through their kiss, Y/N grips his neck to steady herself as she starts to grind herself down against his covered member "I can't wait to feel you baby" He groans loudly as he feels her grind against him. It sends chills throughout his entire body. He reaches up grabbing onto her hips holding them still so he can continue kissing her deeply. He breaks off their kiss panting heavily so he can slide her panties down, giving her needy pussy a little tap against her clit.

Her hips jerk slightly at his ministrations as she rolls his boxers down taking a second to admire his pretty cock springing out to meet her, precum already starting to seep out the head of his cock, his breath hitches as he watches her gaze over his length. A small moan escapes him as she gently wraps her hand around his length giving him a few short pumps "Who's teasin' now Y/N" He grunts as he tips his head back at her light touches, Y/N then suddenly climbs out of his lap to lean down and give his length soft kisses and licks.

Tachihara moans softly as he watches her tease him. He places one hand behind her head keeping her close as he lets out another low growl at her actions "Fuckin' tease" He mutters out as she smirks against his throbbing length, she moves herself back up to face him and gives him a light peck on his lips "I have an idea baby if you'll let me" She bites her lip and waits for his response. He smiles into her lips and nods "Whatcha thinkin' baby?" The woman in front of him smirks as she pushes him down onto the bed leaning over him as she gives him one last kiss before turning over to have her back facing him. She bends herself down as she hovers her pussy over his face while his cock bounches up to reach the edge of her face.

He grins as his hands wrap around her thighs pulling her pretty pussy closer digging his nails into her plush skin "I like how you think babygirl" He gives her a moment to adjust her position before he drives his tongue against her sticky lips, Y/N gasps as she feels his hot tongue prod against her waiting soppy pussy before she's reminded of her position when Tachihara pushes his hips up prodding her mouth with his length.

Y/N lets her tongue dip out of her mouth as she slowly starts to lick against his length teasingly before wrapping her lips around the head of his cock sucking greedily, his breath hitches as he feels her lips wrap around his shaft, he groans loudly feeling himself growing in her mouth "Mmm fuck yeah..." He pants heavily as he tries to keep control of himself from being too eager to please her. His tongue licks quickly against her slit, he licks up the entirety of her pussy before reaching her throbbing clit.

Her body shutters as she finally feels his tongue brush against where she really needs him, she hums lightly against his throbbing head letting the vibrations hit against his skin before she starts to take his length into her waiting mouth, licking against the underside of his cock while pushing her hips back against his face desperately. He moans softly as she takes as much of his thick cock into her mouth as she could he could feel her throat muscles tighten around his shaft as she sucked him off eagerly wanting to please him so badly.

His tongue slides harder against her hole dipping inside before licking up around her clit as he circles his tongue against her little bud making Y/N whine and moan against his length increasing her pace as she bobs her head up and down, the man beneath shudders slightly as he hears her whimper and moan loudly onto his dick, he felt her throat tighten even more around his shaft as she bobbed faster on his cock trying to get every last drop of cum out of him, his hand grips her plush thighs even tighter as he pulls her as close to his face as he can while he devours her sensitive pussy.

Tachihara starts to leave red marks on her pretty skin and he grips her so harshly getting pussy drunk on the taste of her essence, Y/N can hardly handle the sensations as her thighs start to shake from the stimulation. As she slobbers on his length she feels his cock throb against her throat while he thrusts up to fuck her face as best as he can from his position. He groans loudly as he feels her choke on his cock, his hands gripping her thighs tightly as he slammed himself deeper into her tight wet mouth fucking her face hard as he can feeling himself getting close to blowing his load as he pumps his hips faster while she takes it like the obedient little slut she is.

Y/N can feel his cock throbbing harder and faster once he starts to near his end as she realises he's close she feels him suck her clit into his mouth leathering wet licks and sucks to her abused button with determination to make her cum with him. He moans loudly as he feels her body tense up on top him, he knows that if he doesn't stop rocking his cock into her mouth soon then he would shoot his load straight down her throat, but instead of slowing down he keeps thrusting until finally he can hold back no longer and releases his hot sticky seed deep down her throat as she gulps every last drip down her slutty throat, making him moan loudly "Y... Y/N!".

She moans at his taste as she glady licks his sent cock clean, moaning loudly as he works her clit harder and faster as her thighs tremble from at attention "C'mming! I'm cumming Tachi, don't stop fuckin' me with your tongue!" She cants her hips against his face uncontrollably as she grinds her pussy down against his tongue as he works her through her organism, gripping her shaking thighs and slowly licks her throbbing slit as she comes down panting heavily.

He smiles happily as he hears her moans, knowing how much pleasure this was giving her, feeling her juices run over his lips as he continued licking her pussy, tasting her sweet nectar as he felt her orgasm wash over her, squeezing his head between her legs as he licked her cunt making sure not to miss any of her sweet juices, greedily sucking it all up.

She moans as she flops down on top of him while catching her breath "I've never cum so hard in my life" She giggles as she notices her limbs are starting to feel heavy from keeping the position up for so long. He chuckles softly as he pulls away her pussy, gently rolling her onto the bed before laying next to her still breathing heavily while looking at her and smirking.

"You didn't think we were done did you babygirl?" He bites his lip as he pulls her close to his body "I'm nowhere near being done with you" She can't help the shiver that licks up her spine with anticipation as she smiles at her lover.

Tonight was going to be a long one and she couldn't be more excited for it.

[ultratradmalewife]

I mean, I don’t know if it’s that people suck at shipping, so much as some people might just genuinely not be interested in shipping Buck with Eddie? And I’m not even talking about the shipping war debacle going on. For example, I’m a huuuge multi-shipper. Pairing up different people, or even shipping throuples, is my jam! But with Eddie, shipping him with Buck is honestly the farthest thing from my mind. I just don’t find Eddie all that interesting, tbh. As for the whole top and bottom discussion, I’ve known many men who identify as bottoms who still looove checking out a man’s ass (a cute ass is a cute ass, regardless of orientation or persuasion), so I’ve just never really cared about that? Also, Tim Minear probably isn’t going to care or even put much thought into that either? If I’m being real, I actually find the obsession with whether Buck and Tommy are tops or bottoms to be a bit excessive in the BuckTommy fandom and I say this as a gay person who knows the importance of compatibility when it concerns that type of preference. People seem so damn OBSESSED with Buck and Tommy fucking, like that’s all their relationship consists of, and THAT’S actually what has me thinking, “You guys kinda suck at this. Where’s the drama? Where’s the hurt and comfort? Where’s the hobby exploration that doesn’t involve sex, sex, sex? Two men in romantic relationships are not constantly thinking about or engaging in fucking, I promise you. We have so much more depth to us than that! But that’s just me. I also think, as a gay person, some of my frustration with the fandom making everything about sex stems from feeling like some of these BuckTommy fans are straight women who can’t help but fetishize two gay men. It happens in every single fandom featuring a slash pairing, canon or not, and it can feel gross to witness, again, as a gay. It’s most definitely not just a BuckTommy thing (god knows buddie shippers and every other slash pairing ship known to man has this problem), so I don’t want to give the impression I’m trying to single them out (I am, after all, a huge BuckTommy shipper). But anyway, I guess that’s a whole other topic for another day, and this message is already hella long as it is.

Babe, I’m sorry if this came across so serious, but I meant this as a joke.

You don’t have to ship Buck and Eddie together. I don’t either.

This is just me trying to show the community that we can put our differences aside, and make stupid posts like this one.

As for the sex thing, I agree that being fetishized can be heavy, but as a gay person unless you know it’s a woman doing this, you should be careful calling it out. Sex has always been a touchy subject, often used against us by homophobes, and policing sexuality just works in their favor. I know there’s a lot of discourse about that with the younger gays, but they need to know sex has always been a part of lgbt history, and no it’s not like the media likes to portray it. I found a post speaking on this if you’d be interested. I haven’t read it all the way yet, but so far it’s been a good read, and it’s more educational than accusatory.

As for the people making sexual posts about Buck and Tommy, I agree it can get too much, but that’s not for us to confront. We can just scroll past it.

But the major take away about my post, this is really me extending my hand to any buddie shipper (who doesn’t have to ship BuckTommy) who would like to form a friendship. Posts like these are in good fun and it bonds us if we don’t take it too seriously. I did the same thing in a different fandom and the community was more receptive, so why not try again?

[radioactivewisdom]

I disagree with that last anon so much. Writing about the faults in society's illogical, entitled mindset to provide helpful guidance to those who seek genuine liberation is not the same thing as writing about negativity for the sake of wallowing in it. When I was in "misandrist" radfem spaces, the energy was so radioactive it literally gave me panic attacks. On the other hand, I feel so confident and hopeful after I read what you and these amazing purity loving women have to say. The energy doesn't lie. The former was depressing and anxiety inducing. The latter feels light and inspires me to move on from the negative things being discussed, bc even though both are discussing the unfortunate reality of this world, the message is different. With radfems, it was always about bitter resentment that stem from entitlement and nothing more. Writing post after post about how men aren't what they want them to be and then offering no solution, as if that helps anything. On blogs like yours, the focus is on being proactive, fostering accountability, staying on the right path and focusing on what we CAN control- only ourselves. I read what you and these other ladies write, go out and see it reflected in the people around me, and I see puzzle pieces come together in real time. You know what I got out of being served lukewarm feminist takes on a daily basis? Absolutely fucking nothing besides the knowledge that men suck, which I already knew. Now I see everybody's manipulation for what it is, not only in men but in EVERYONE. You can't talk about idiotic, manipulative and evil women in fem spaces without being gaslit because they are those things. I was always mildly aware of how nefarious and two-faced everyone around me was, but I never trusted that my preception was right. Talking about the truth with others who see it has built my confidence and keeps me on the right track, and I'm finding it easier to navigate this world. This is just a part of my journey, there may be a time where I don't need guidance and stop coming on here, but for now it's helping me become the person I want to be. So thank you for sharing your thoughts because they're very helpful and much appreciated. PS I don't mind the vulgar language bc it's a vulgar world we're talking about here. I'd rather read the words dick and cum in a negative context here than read about them described in flowery language everywhere else.

I can feel your passion from the words you’ve written alone. That’s why having a space to express such things is so important. I’m inspired just from receiving this, and knowing woman like you are also out there is what it’s all about. You have such a clear grasp on reality, so intelligent.

Your experience is so common for those who find themselves congregating around these parts. Thats why it’s important to talk clearly, even if it’s not pretty, so that others can wake up. I so much agree and it’s why I left those spaces as well. There were never any solutions and acknowledgment that we all play a part in this hell when making bad choices.

I really appreciate you taking the time to send this message :) It’s not only made me feel better, it also delights me to hear from women like yourself.

[sirfrancisvarney]

Oh, last night's episode was so upsetting to watch. Even if a lot of everyone's misery was the result of their own choices, none of them deserved that, not even Hank. Fuck grifters. Bunch of scum-sucking lowlifes, all of them. I know Hank is an asshole, but so much of his bullshit stems from his insecurities and sense of inferiority. His wife left him because he wasn't good enough, Danvers looks down on him, and even his own son prefers Danvers to him. That will really screw a person up. And Pete's starting to show the same insecurities. His wife should not have called him stupid in the previous episode. (And Navarro should have put her foot down and waited until morning to go see Tagaq. That didn't have to happen on Christmas Eve. It's not like the trail would have gotten any colder.) I wish Leah could understand that Danvers really does actually care about her, but unfortunately Danvers has chosen death before emotional vulnerability. And then there's Navarro, who pretty much hit rock bottom last night. She tried so hard to look after her sister and it all came to nothing. That's enough of the touchy-feely stuff. I'm not any better at it than Danvers is. Back to the murders.

So according to Danvers (I don't know that I'd personally make that claim based on a single frame, but I'll roll with it), there's electricity in the ice caves, which suggests there were people, so that puts a mark in the "killer is a human" column. If the scientists were getting their core samples from the ice caves, that would explain their connection to Annie Kowtok. Either they stumbled upon the same thing she was investigating, or she found out what they were really studying, and whatever it (or "she") was, finally woke up. I'm going to go with the former theory for now.

I hope they'll be able to get more information out of Otis Heiss, or at least get him someplace warm and feed him a hot meal. He looked rather pitiful. His left eye is clouded over, same as the polar bear and the one woman in the background at the activist meeting. His injuries happened April 20 1998, and I'd guess they were caused by something in the caves. I don't know if it's meaningful or a coincidence, but Annie K. died on April 18, same time of year. I do wonder why she was just stabbed and beaten to death, instead of getting the weird injuries like the men. I wonder if the gender of the victims is significant.

Did Tagaq flee to save his own skin, or does he have delusions of heroism? Not saving himself from the cops, but whatever Lund might have unleashed. And I'm starting to feel a little suspicious of Rose, but maybe I'm just being paranoid. Wish she'd mentioned exactly what she studied. And since she's the only one who recognizes the spiral and appears willing to talk, I really wish Navarro would ask her about it. Maybe after Qavvik gives her the stone she left behind at his place. I hope he gives it back. Please don't make him turn out to be sinister, True Detective. I still haven't recovered from the last time a borderline-feral POC detective finally let her guard down and opened up to a seemingly kind and empathetic man, only for him to turn out to be the main villain. Don't make me go through that again.

On the supernatural (maybe) side, Navarro's family apparently has close ties to the underworld, or afterlife, or whatever you want to call the land of the dead. Unfortunately, not being knowledgeable about Inuit religion or mythology, I don't have any insights here. While I'm willing to entertain the idea that Navarro does have close ties to the other side, I'm not willing to say definitively that that's what's happening. Holden's polar bear in her visions isn't convincing enough proof to me. She and Danvers used to be so close that Danvers knew where she put cans in her kitchen. I'm sure Navarro has been to Danvers's house before and seen the bear, either without consciously remembering it or recognizing the significance of it. Either way, it doesn't really matter to me which it is. As long as the main mystery gets solved in a way that feels fair, I'll be satisfied with the series.  

I hope Navarro's all right. Bleeding from the ears can be caused by head injuries, and it's a very bad sign when it happens (although I don't know if it can suddenly occur hours after the event). Bleeding from the ears in general is pretty much a "go straight to hospital" kind of situation. Her sister's body is also due to come back that day. I wonder if she'll try to tie her death to the scientists. She did take all her clothes off and fold them up neatly just like them. If her body has any other similarities, that would put a few marks in the "killer is supernatural" column.

[bleach-your-panties]

May I please request the letters D, M, R, and V from your Valentine’s Alphabet for Kensei? 😍

Now you know you can and you already know what I'm about to say😂

dividers by @/benkeibear and @/todorosie. blank blogs you will be blocked on sight, as well.

❥⋱D - Dick: he’s gonna give you that Valentine’s Day D! What’s it like? (His dick, that is)

FAT DICK ALERT 🗣FAT DICK ALERT ‼️

Not only is it thick, it’s long, too. A good ten inches, even.

It’s a darker tan color, a few shades darker than his natural skin tone, with multiple dark veins running along the shaft, which protrudes from a thick bush of gray-white hair (GRANDPA PUBES.)

The tip flushes almost purple when he’s horny, and his balls are huge, too, covered with prickles of white hair.

When you first tried to suck him off…he had to help you, because you couldn’t even get the tip past your lips without a painful stretch.

❥⋱M - Marry: How does he feel about marriage?

Kensei loves the idea of getting married to you.

You're his best friend and biggest supporter; you've both been through some trying times together.

When he proposes, all of the Visoreds and Squad 9 are in attendance.

Shinji, Love, and Rose all begin to argue about who’s going to be the best man, which leads to Shinji and Love getting into a fist fight that Kensei and Rose have to break up.

Shuuhei inevitably ends up being the best man with Mashiro as the maid of honor.

❥⋱R - Rose Petals: Is that his style, or nah? What color? How else would he decorate you guys’ special room?

At his core, Kensei is a very sweet and romantic man.

He chooses lavender-colored rose petals to make a trail leading into the bathroom where he has a bath already prepared for the both of you.

Tall glass vases of orange long-stemmed roses decorate the nightstands on either side of your bed. Strings of crystals hang from some of the roses.

The bed is covered in cream-colored satin sheets with a literal silver platter set out with cups of sake and a meal he prepared himself.

At the end of the night (after multiple rounds of hot, steamy sex) he’ll play you a song on the guitar that he stole borrowed from Shuuhei.

❥⋱V - Virginity: How was your first time with him? (Even if you didn’t lose it to him)

Now, he wasn’t your first, but you were his.

Kensei had plenty of opportunities to be with a woman (just look at him), but as soon as he dropped his pants they were running for the hills. Not you, though!

He went through a dry spell for a long time and even began experiencing a bit of body dysmorphia because he felt like something was wrong with him and that he’d never get to experience sexual intimacy with a woman due to his large size.

When you first got together and he admitted this to you, you could feel your heart snap in two.

Throughout the beginning of your relationship, you worked with him through these struggles and ensured him that you loved him and appreciated every part of him, even the ones that he didn’t necessarily like.

Kensei only fell deeper in love with you due to this, and one night, he made it up in his mind that he wanted to give you all of him - mentally, physically, spiritually, and sexually.

Once the sex got started, you could still only take about ⅓ of his dick, but he went slow, stretching you open as he held both of your hands in his much larger ones while fucking you in the missionary position.

You felt so good to him, so warm and tight, that he only lasted a few minutes the first time due to this sensation being completely new to him.

After that first night, you gradually got used to him and can now handle his large size with more ease, but sometimes you still have to use lube or he has to eat you out really well first.

----

valentine a-z ©bleach-your-panties 2024. do not steal, repost, or upload my shit to tiktok! reblogs always welcome. comments appreciated.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Day 2 of Whumptober! "They don't care about you."

Five times those words echoed in Lambert's head and one time he was able to ignore them.

1.

Lambert knew his father didn't care about him. He's known it since he was old enough to start understanding the words the man would scream in his infant face - probably before that even. "He doesn't care about you." Held the same significance as stating the sky was blue - it was an obvious fact everyone was aware of.

His mother though.

He'd never felt so betrayed as when the Witcher came to claim him and his mother - the woman who had placed herself between him and his father almost on a daily basis, who claimed to love him more than anything - just stood by and let it happen. She didn't even put up a token protest.

Lambert refused to look back as he felt that "He" turn into a "They".

2.

"They don't care about you."

It had become Lambert's mantra, his armour since arriving in this place. They didn't care about him, so why the hell should he care about any of them? About anything?

It had gotten him in trouble more than once but so what - from how the older boys talked, he'd probably be dead soon anyway. Why should he spend what time he had left sucking up to dickheads and assholes. It had never gotten his mother anywhere.

No. They didn't care, so Lambert was determined to care even less.

3.

The world was a spinning vortex of white as Lambert stayed frozen on his knees. Voltehre - the one person in this shit hole he'd consider even close to a friend, the one who was sometimes successful in shutting up that little voice in his head. He was...no, he couldn't be. They were supposed to make it through this together. They swore.

"He's here, Geralt!" He heard a voice call out that sounded like Eskel, one of the younger Witchers - and of course Geralt was with him. He felt himself being lifted as someone wrapped something heavy around his shoulders.

"You did good, Pup. Let's get you out of this blizzard and warmed up."

Blizzard? That would explain the white.

"You sure he's the last? Vesemir will have our asses if they survive Old Speartip only for us to accidentally let them freeze to death."

Ah, So that was it. They didn't give a shit about him, or Voltehre, or any of the others he'd been shooed out of the Keep with that morning. They just wanted to avoid a beating.

"They don't care about you."

4.

The man he'd saved from the drowner was whisked away to the healer for a scratch that wasn't even bleeding anymore whilst Lambert was left in the middle of the suddenly deserted village square, barely able to stand and trying to stem the flow of his own blood running down his leg.

"They don't care about you."

And once again, "The sky is fucking blue" - obvious fact.

Just once though, Lambert would like someone to care when he got hurt. True enough, some people did but it was less of an 'I'm concerned about your well-being' and more 'I don't want to be the one who has to deal with a dead Witcher.'

He grit his teeth and forced himself to move, vaguely remembering some asinine saying about wishes and beggars.

5.

Lambert eyed the Cat Witcher warily. The other either not noticing his mistrust or not caring as he continued to spout random shit and grin whenever he managed to pull a reluctant smile or laugh out of Lambert. Acting like they'd known one another for years and not just been hired on the same contract a couple of months ago. As the evening wore on and the drinks kept coming (courtesy of Aiden of the Cats) and the conversation started to flow easier, Lambert felt the small part of him he thought had died with Voltehre stir hopefully.

"So, I was thinking." Aiden said as he drained his tankard, "That shared job ended up being pretty lucrative in the end and turns out I actually like having someone watch my back so what say we make it a regular thing? Twice the Witchers, bigger jobs, bigger payouts."

And there it was.

Of course he would want something from him, why else would he have been playing nice all night? How could Lambert be so fucking naive to think that the surprisingly pleasant evening had been just that and not a gods damned sales pitch?

"I have to go." He said, standing, "Thanks for the drinks."

Aiden - no, the Cat - wasn't quite quick enough to hide his look of surprised disappointment.

"Alright, well. I'll be around town tomorrow morning if you change your mind."

Lambert grunted in response before turning towards the stairs, trying not to think too hard about the look on the others face. Of course he was disappointed, he'd just lost a potential cash cow.

"They don't care about you."

+1.

Aiden clicked his tongue as he finished up treating the deep gash on Lambert's arm. After putting himself between Lambert and a harpie after it got in a lucky hit leaving him momentarily stunned, the Cat wasn't exactly unscathed himself but had insisted on seeing to Lambert's injuries first, "Out of the two of us, I'm not the one who can't lift their arm above their shoulder right now."

Lambert knew how the rest of the night would go. They would wash up, Aiden would grudgingly allow Lambert to look over his injuries while insisting he was fine and trying his damn hardest to distract Lambert (with varying degrees of success, depending on the level of nudity). Aiden would cook while Lambert cleaned their swords before they turned in for the night and Lambert would wake in their shared bedroll to find that the Cat had both literally and metaphorically dug his claws in at some point so Lambert had no hope of escaping - not that he even considered that an option anymore.

After seven years together - five of those as lovers - it no longer stung if "They" didn't care. He knew beyond a doubt that Aiden did, and that was more than enough.

[lilyspond64]

the idea that feminism should be a push to make women more masculine sucks lol

what needs to happen is that the idea of masculinity being equal to strength needs to be weakened. either that, or the idea that strength is a virtue needs to be weakened. preferably both.

edit: because someone found this post and misinterpreted it (and basically called me a man cause of course) let me explain what i mean here. masculinity, as a concept, is entirely socially constructed. the way that we have constructed it is to equate masculinity with competence and strength, and femininity as its corollary, incompetence and weakness. however, one may notice that it is more useful to associate people with weakness than with strength, as to not expect people to be strong or competent. however, a lot of mainstream pushes try to push femininity as a weakness, and the way for a woman to become strong and competent is to become masculine. theres a few issues with this, of course.

1. as femininity and masculinity are socially constructed, we can associate any traits with either of them. we could just say that both have strength and competence associated with them.

2. strength and competence aren't moral good. in my view, they are often bad. weakness is more useful than strength.

3. associating femininity with strength rather than associating masculinity with weakness is not useful. it's just raising expectation of strength rather than lowering it. Again, strength is NOT a good thing.

4. For an explanation of why I dislike strength, I equate it to a weapon. Some people have it and others don't. This has nothing to do with your gender or presentation, it's just dependent on your abilities. People who have it can weaponize it against people who don't. The solution to something like this has never been to distribute the weapons more freely, it's been to take the weapons away. If strength is no longer seen as a virtue but rather a neutral trait, this will be greatly mitigated.

5. Weakness SHOULD be a virtue. However, it is not a weapon. Why? Weakness is the natural state of a human being. We are born vulnerable and needy and somewhere along the line that is our life we are expected to stop being vulnerable and needy, until we die, trying not to be too vulnerable or too needy. This is true for men and women traditionally, however, being stoic and strong is commonly seen as a masculine trait.

5. Of course, an easy solution is to see these traits of masculinity and femininity and throw them away, saying these signifiers are entirely fake, nonexistent, and un-useful. Honestly, this is rather appealing to me. However, in terms of practicality, this would be difficult to enforce. Plus, the traits that exist as socially distributed between them are still useful for everyone.

6. Why is engaging in exploited labor feminist? Why is the goal always set so low? "We must allow women to work their lives away" or even fucking "Let women murder children for nationalism?" How is that feminist? Cause men do it too? Maybe instead of saying women can... we say men can't? A woman CEO is a CEO first and a woman second. This was actually present in the reply to me! Uh, also, STEM fields are not "more useful" than other fields.

7. This is the simplest one: adopting the patriarchy through assimilation is not freedom! It is a continuation of the patriarchy! Right now we sort people into two groups, men and women, and say men are the strong ones. Changing this to say, strong and weak, is just skipping the gender middleman. Systems of oppression cannot be assimilated, they must be abolished.

8. This is more personal, but femininity's association with weakness and vulnerability is exactly why it is so appealing to me. As a human, I am vulnerable. I accept this state. Under maleness, society does not allow me to accept this state. So I reject it. Does this mean women are weaker than men? No, that is the expectation. I've been called sexist repeatedly for an implication that me wanting to be weaker and more vulnerable is my way of being more of a woman, whatever that means. Obviously wrong! I just know that strength exists as a tool for violence, and hate it outright.

9. This applies to men too! Men should not be "masculine", plain and simple. Delete this entire notion of men being masculine! You will just insist that men should be violent. Men are not naturally violent. On the inside, we are all babies with wants and needs and feelings that only vulnerability and weakness will solve. Let's work to redefine masculinity, not femininity.

11. No, I don't think people should be "traditionally" feminine, or really even feminine at all. I think the standards held by masculinity (some of which, at least) should not be upheld, even in a feminist society.

12. What do I define as strength? I've been using this word a lot, but I never defined it. I'm using strength to mean the outward numbing of physical and emotional pain. Has anyone ever said that real men don't cry? Or what about: Women are so emotional? These gendered stereotypes seem to point to one specific thing: let men cry, and women SHOULD be emotional. You can't say "yes they should and no they are not" as this is a backwards mindset. Whether or not women are actually naturally more emotional than men, women are categorized as more emotion societally. When people say emotion in this context, they mean outward sadness and excitement - never anger. Anger, is of course, traditionally masculine, and angry women are therefore actually basically men. Anger is not a bad emotion persay, but it is a violent one. Breaking systems of violence mean breaking systems of anger - ie most criminal justice systems. Strength is the ability to throw someone into a steel hole and not feel bad about it.

13. So what, I want a society where everyone cries all the time? Yeah sure. If everyone simply shows their vulnerability more often, people will naturally become less violent. Stress is caused mainly by an emotional shutdown that can be relieved by an outburst. Allowing healthy outbursts at low stress levels will avoid unhealthy outbursts at high stress levels. Sure, one is more frequent than the other, but it is also more useful and helpful.

I have this all thought out pretty well. It's not a statement that insists feminists believe this, by the way. I'm sure many a feminist would agree with me on all these points. However, I am ok with being disagreed with. However, I do not accept gender essentialism as a talking point here. Masculinity as I described it is not inherent to men nor is it inherent to having a penis, or whatever. It's a societal standard that we uphold because having a lesser class is always beneficial for a greater class.