#like. when you're a teen you think older men are hot but not like. real life older men. maybe celebrities or your favorite singer

[boyapologist]

can anyone in their 20s relate to the weird experience of starting to feel attraction to 30+ men. because I just can't wrap my head around it

[bunny-jpeg]

bulk

capt. john price

cw: smut/pwp, rugby au, rugby player!price, age gap (20s/40s), size difference/kink, rough sex, doggy style, headlock (slight choking), dirty talk & degrading language, breeding kink, is this ticking off boxes for anyone?

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john price was a big man. almost ten years playing professional rugby for the english team, he had bulked up since his early years on the team.  thick muscle and a nice softness over top. he was strong, able to carry all the groceries inside of your shared flat and also get his hulking frame across the field with ball in hand. he was also hairy, patches of hair across his chest down to his belly, didn't mention all the pubic hair between his legs. it obscured a lot of his tattoos that he had gotten over the years, like your name over his heart and his jersey number at his thigh (you knew you'd get too hot if you thought about his thighs too much).  you once told him, with your tongue loose with alcohol that it was the ideal male body. that these ‘dehydrated poor excuses of men’ needed to drink water and eat some carbs. 

price was a man's man. you knew the first time you fucked him, that you'd never ever fuck with those limp dicked boys at your university. you got addicted to the feeling of a real man, one who know exactly how to make your eyes roll back and your tongue hang out, panting heavily like a good bitch you were.

post-game price was your favourite shade of john price. you could feel his electricity while in the passenger seat of the car after the match. when he pulled out of the parking lot, he placed his large hand on your thigh. he played with the edge of your skirt and kept his eyes on the road. you could tell that the wheels in his head were turning. 

  “honey?”

  “been thinkin', love.” he said as his fingers edged up your skirt a little more. like he was a teen boy rather than a forty year old man. he was teasing you, knowing that there would be no way you could both fuck in the back of his car. even it was an expensive vehicle, it would be a tight fit for such a large man and his smaller wife. 

you looked at him and said, “never a good thing for a man to think.” you giggled then yelped when he gripped your thigh suddenly. 

he chuckled a little as he continued to drive, “thinkin' about makin' a baby.” he licked his top lip, “i ain't gettin' any younger, love. and you're almost done school, so i think it's high time we start makin' a family.” his words were honey in your brain. it made you squirm. your much bigger, much older husband was asking for you to make a baby with him. 

  “someone's got baby fever.” you giggled as you placed your hand over his. the air of the car grew warmer, which made price open the window a little.  you squeaked a little bit when he gripped you harder. you felt your heart rate pick up at the feeling of his large hands on you.

he chuckled a little, as he looked at you briefly while at a stop light. he leaned in to kiss you, “of course. part of me's been thinkin' about you walking across the stage at your graduation with my little brat in your belly.” then looked back to start driving again. 

you rubbed your thighs together and felt wet at your core. you couldn't deny your husband, plus you had been subject to baby fever as well. maybe it was your body screaming for your lover. to have a part of him in you. and it wasn't like you two were being the most safe, so accidents could've happened. once back at your flat, you weren't in your clothes for long. 

price had practically ripped your skirt off of you and those large paws he called hands were groping at your plush ass with his lips on your neck.  you could feel his hard cock inside of his white briefs. the pre cum leaked through the fabric as he humped against you. he said in a heated tone, “i need it. i need her.” while made you moan then try to get your bra and panties off. you felt the heat rising in your skin, it was painfully hot for you. it excited you in ways that left you feeling hot all over. 

  “how badly, honey?”

he pulled you right up against him, his clothed cock digging into your abdomen, “more than anythin'. i need ‘er.  i need ’er stuff full. want it to smell like me for months. and if it doesn't, i'll just fill 'er up again.” he slapped your ass and watched you moan with your back arched. he groped the cheek one last time before he took his naked wife to the bedroom. 

his clothes were tossed to the side too, the t-shirt from the rugby league and basketball shorts. once everything was off, you admired your lover for a long moment. seeing all the heft and hair on him. his body that was so strong that he could easily crush you in his bicep or between his thighs. it made your core throb as you got into bed. 

  “nah, nah.” price said as he got onto the bed and grabbed your hips, “i need a deeper angle, somethin' to really show her i love you.” then patted your pussy before he gripped onto your hips once more and turned you onto your stomach. he then angled your hips up then dragged a finger across your achy slit. he chuckled, “there she is.” then leaned in to give your slick cunt a little blow, watching your hole flutter.

  “mmm please, honey.” you arched your back as you felt your husband so close to you. your hulking husband who only hours earlier was running across the field, fighting his way through the other team. his strong legs carried him and you were sitting in the stands with your thighs pressed together with need. 

price replied, “i know, i know. i know you need me” he rubbed his achy cock up against your slit, “always so good for me. knew for the moment i met ya that i wanted ya for the rest of my days.” there was an age gap between you two, but in all fairness, it turned you on even more. knowing that this handsome older man wanted to make sure that his cock was buried in you. 

when he pressed into you, your back arched. you gasped heavily into the covers as he lifted your hips further to get a better angle to sink into you. he laid over top of you, his fuzzy body up against your back. he pressed his weight onto you and kept that heavy cock of his snug inside of you. you groaned loudly, muffled by the pillows under your head. 

  “honey.” you whined as you felt the ache of his cock so deep in you. 

he got one of his hefty arms around your throat, keeping you further pinned against the bed. it wasn't hard enough to choke the lights out of ou. but enough to have pressure that made your head swim. it all felt so good and just just started. your voice was strained when price started to rut against you. his pace wasn't fast like a young stallion, but they were hard. every thrust of his hips were lazily slow but hit the back of your pussy perfectly. his cock had a thickness to it, you had carried rolls of ground beef that weighed less than his cock. not to mention the forest of pubic hair anf his breeder balls. he was a perfect man, body and all. he  took you so well. 

  “she likes me.” he said, “your pretty cunt. i bet you were thinkin' about me on the field. all dirty and roughed up, yeah. bet you wished i fucked ya right in the locker room. let the boys hear how i make my girl feel. bruise that poor pussy of yours.” he said, words hot in your heat. it made sweat settle over you.

you whimpered a little against the covers, “please, john. ah!”

he continued to fuck you, his pace was aggressive and it made you see stars. his arm was still around your throat and you could feel your pulse in your jaw. he left messy kisses on your face, leaving your cheek wet. you whimpered and clenched around his cock which only made him fuck you harder. you were such a good little wife for him. being so good to your man while he wrecked your sweet little hole. 

  "honey! please! you whimpered as you arched your back, but didn't get far due to the impressive size of your lover. you felt pinned under him, his strength. you gasped out another noise as the blunt head of his cock kept bullying your sweet insides. letting it make a huge mess of you, his cock was soaked in your wetness. it dripped down his hairy balls. he loved making his girl feel good. 

he continued to kiss your face, not quite getting your lips. his facial hair brushed against your heated skin and made you over sensitive. his mouth kept running as he kept moving. he felt hot all over, like a heat in his gut as he battered your sweet insides, “my perfect woman.  know how to take me so well. meant to take me. givin' me the privilege to make you a mama. ya like that? showin' up to uni with a little extra next semester. my dutiful little wife. keepin' up her studies while she nursing my babe.” he chuckled as he continued to keep that pussy of yours nice and filled. 

you gasped and moaned into the covers. you could be as loud as you wanted, you were in the safety of your bedroom as price rutted against you. your body was sweaty and your head was swimming. it was so painfully erotic, you felt hot all over. your heart thumped in your chest with a heavy beat as price kept moving against you. 

  “you're lucky you have the ring already. if your classmates saw you with a nice round middle, they might have gotten the wrong idea about you. that you're a dirty slag who can't keep her legs closed.” he chuckled as he licked down the sweat on the side of your neck, “dirty bird. but it's alright, we're married. you're my wife. mrs. jonathan price. about time you got a little one in your belly.” he pressed further into you and it made your head spin. his cock felt like it was pressing into your stomach. 

  “i love you.” you panted.

he finally kissed your lips, or at least the corner as he tightened his hold around your throat, “i love ya too, sweet thing. lettin' my cock bully your sweet insides. made for me, all of me. don't worry, be keepin' that womb warm for a long time. hope ya like 'em big, price boys can be a handful.” he laughed as he kissed the back of your neck. 

he was fully crowded in your space as he worked your sweet pussy. you barely had time to think before you felt the flash of orgasm through your body. it was like being engulfed in a quick heat while your body tensed up and your mind went blank. your pussy drooling on his cock, beckoning him to finish inside of you. 

a good husband always finishes in his wife. 

with a few more heavy thrusts against your limp body price finished inside of you. he pushed his cock all the way inside of you and made sure that your hips were at an angle that made it easier for you to get pregnant. he clutched onto you as he slowed down to a stop. your eyes rolled back a little as he pulled out. the loss of pressure made you whine. you weren't able to form any proper thoughts, your tongue felt heavy in your mouth as your husband rolled you onto your back and kissed you deeply on the lips. 

no need to think, mrs. price. let your rugby playing husband do all the decision making. <3

[ijwrsmff]

i have been thinking "what if the forgers meet a teen reader who works as a mercenary" and that is what I wish to request a platonic for her family with a mercenary reader

A couple requests for a mercenary reader! Here is a platonic fic about how you met the Forgers and them finding out you're a mercenary.

Tw; violence (as expected)

Word Count: 1,362

“Safety comes first.” Was the first thing you said to the Forgers. 

You had been at a boring party for a work friend, and you watched as your host “accidentally” flung a hot plate towards Yor. She recovered with grace however, and caught the tray on her foot. 

Hearing the explanation of how Loid got into an incident with his patients made you tear up. You knew what it was like to be in a dangerous profession. 

So, approaching Yor and Loid, you simply said “Safety comes first!” As a way to show your appreciation to them. 

Loid turned to his wife, and gave her a questioning look. 

She whispered to him, “They just started working recently. I barely know them.” And turned to you. “Hello y/n! It’s nice to see you again!” 

You looked at her in awe, you were generally quiet at work since you didn’t really care to be there, but she remembered your name. 

Now your host turned to you and smirked, “Oh yeah! Y/n is a real piece of work, having been scrambling to find a job ever since their parents died. Some even say they killed them herself.” Was she trying to get hit? Because this is how you get hit. 

Loid took the attention away from her, and looked at you concerned. “I’m so sorry for your loss. How old are you if you don’t mind my asking?” And he gave you a reassuring smile. 

“Uh…” You couldn’t believe the whole room was paying attention to you. In your line of work, too much attention would equal a death sentence. “I’m 15.” 

Loid frowned at your answer, “And do you have anyone to live with now?” And you could sense he was genuinely curious, but there was something else buried deeper beneath. Something like interest. 

You decided to answer honestly, “No. I live in an apartment by myself.” And you looked to the Forgers. They look like they’re having a silent conversation with themselves. 

“If…” Yor started, “You don’t have anywhere else. You could stop by our house? We have a lovely daughter, Anya.” And she gave you the kindest smile you’d seen in a long time. 

“I…would like that.” 

And that’s how it started. Over time, they grew closer to you and you were like a second child to them. They loved you dearly…but all of that was about to end today. 

You were home with Anya while your two parental figures were at work. You had moved in with them rather quickly, and you didn’t regret it for an instance. 

But the problem is…they don’t know how you have so much money saved up. You were a mercenary for hire. And you were damn good at your job if you did say so yourself. 

While Anya was watching Bondman, you were scrolling through your texts and emails about your next potential jobs. She did love her spy shows. Normally you would watch with her, but you needed some more money. Your time with the Forgers was coming to an end. A mercenary can’t have parents. Even…if they are still a kid. Teenagers at least. 

You heard the doorbell ring, and before you could open it Anya got in your way. “Y/n!” She cried, “Don’t answer it!” And she lowered her voice. 

Was she scared of your neighbors coming by?

“Move, Anya, it’s probably just the mail.” And you carefully moved her out of the way. 

When you opened the door, mere seconds later you were rushed by a group of men. 

“We finally found you.” The biggest one snickered, “Took us long enough. You were hard to track. Remember this guy?” And he pulled out a picture of one of your older targets. 

Because Anya was there, you didn’t want to start a fight if you couldn’t finish it. She was your priority, you didn’t want to drag this girl you’ve come to love down your miserable path with you. She didn’t deserve to be thrown into your lifestyle. 

Though…what she called out from behind you surprised you. “KICK THEIR ASSES Y/N!” 

“Language…” You mumbled before stepping right up to the boss. 

That was all you needed to hear. 

Seeing you get closer, the dude pulled out a knife, while his sidekicks pulled out guns. It didn’t take long for you to swing your arm, effectively making the man stab himself in the neck. 

The blood splattered everywhere, and you looked to the lackeys with a look that sent them backwards a few steps, before they repositioned the guns towards you. 

WIthout hesitating, you put their boss between you and the guns. They didn’t dare shoot, as he was still clinging to life. Only by a little. 

You heard someone running up the stairs, but paid no mind to the sound. You threw the body of the boss at his subordinates, and quickly ran up to them while they were disoriented. It didn’t take much effort to pull the gun out of one of their hands, and you quickly shot each of them, directly in the head. 

“Y/n?!?” You heard Yor’s voice scream and she ran over to you. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” Her eyes were dark at the thought of you or Anya getting hurt, but only you saw the deep concern rooted in them. 

Loid walked over, and turned your head, checking for any injuries. “Safety comes first…right y/n?” He said as he gave you a smile you rarely got to see on his face. 

“I…I never meant to put all of you in danger with my lifestyle.” You brushed off their concern, and went to leave but Anya clinging to your shirt made you stop. 

“Don’t leave! We love you! Even if you’re a mercedes!” The misuse of the word made you laugh, as well as Yor, while Loid simply shook his head and corrected her. 

“It’s mercenary.” And he held out his hand to you. 

After spending so much time with this family…you trusted them with your life. You took his hand with only a moment of hesitation. “You’re not…afraid of me?” 

This caused both parents to laugh, and caused Anya to snicker to herself. Yor spoke up first, “We all have our skeletons in our closet.” Some are more literal than others. 

Loid pulled you into a hug, then Yor and Anya stepped forward to hug you as well. It felt so…safe. You loved them dearly, you didn’t want to leave them. But it was what you thought you had to do. 

“Now may be a bad time…or possibly the best time. But we have something for you.” And Loid pulled out of the hug, keeping you at arms distance so you didn’t try to run off. 

You looked at Loid, then Yor, then finally Anya. They all seemed to be in on this. It was something terrible, you just knew it. But…maybe it wouldn’t be? You were used to expecting the worst, so when they pulled out that slip of paper…you began bawling. 

There, in Loid’s hand, were official adoption papers. 

Anya clung to you even harder, “We all love you so much…please don’t leave us.” And it broke your heart. 

“I…even after all of this you still want to adopt me?” And you held Anya right back, rubbing her back soothingly. 

Yor spoke up, “Of course we do! Your past doesn’t matter to us. It could be anything, and we would still love you in the present.” And a huge grin was on her face as she pulled you back into a hug. 

Loid followed with, “You don’t have to jump into calling us mom and dad right away, so whenever you’re ready…we’d like you to move in with us.” His smile mirrored Yor’s and Anya’s. 

The tears continued to fall and you choked out all you could think to say, “I love you guys!” 

And in a chorus of the three of them, was a certain, “We love you too!” 

Yeah…found family had the potential to be better than blood family. The Forgers proved that. 

You’d stick with them for as long as you may live. 

[rimouskis]

The NHL really tried so hard to make Sidney some kind of sex symbol and it just didn’t work out. They sure gave a good go though, I’m honestly so grateful they gave up on it though because they were so adamant about it

I'm of the mind that it both did and didn't work, I think. or, perhaps, that it didn't work as the NHL intended.

(side note to say: I'm so creeped out by all of these, I wish none of them existed, and I find the second one to be particularly reprehensible and insensitive)

I feel confident in saying that sid does do well with the ladies. funnily enough, at the bachelorette party I was just at, we played a game where we all submitted men (fictional and real) with clues as to their identity and had to play "guess the bachelor" and at one point one of the women yelled out "SIDNEY CROSBY!" when a hint was about one guy's attractiveness, haha.

but it also feels, to me, that he didn't really sweep the nation in the sort of... god, who's an appropriate comparison.... justin bieber-y type way? that's not quite right, but I feel like sid's "sex appeal" was very localized, like it only really worked in the pittsburgh market, because people outside of pittsburgh were too busy hating him. also he was just WAY too young, and I feel like he didn't bring in that many young girls/girls his age range/teen girls. like, go into the instagram/facebook comments and it's all women in their 40s or 50s leaving hilarious comments about him being handsome.

it's funny, the locals-who-are-only-casually-into-hockey I know who are my age (so, much younger than sid) were more into other players. one liked flower because she was into the p!atd look and flower definitely was the lanky/boy band-y one. another liked duper (she liked older guys lol) and yet another is not a hockey fan but finds tanger to fit her taste. I ironically don't know many Sid Fans who are fans in the carnal sense.

I've gotten away from myself, sorry—I think he's gained sex appeal more as he aged, hitting his 20s. now he's got pretty broad recognition for that (like, you can see tiktoks saying he's hot now or whatever). it flopped when he was younger because he was... y'know

that was a baby!!! NHL, you can't do too much with that! sure he's nonthreatening but you need to stick him back in the oven to finish baking for a bit!

you're so right in that: god, they tried. they tried so hard. but he was still a chunky-faced teenager, and he (at the time) was displaying the personality of a boiled peanut, and it just wasn't gonna happen. you've gotta let it happen naturally, nhl.

and hey, he got there in the end!

[katsukikitten]

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

[sn0tcl0wn]

age gap romance flicks are usually iffy at best and horrible at worst with a few good ones in between and usually they're about an 18 year old dating an older person but way too often there are movies about adults dating minors and it bothers me for the obvious reasons but what gets to me the how the fanbase is usually more adults than minors. and like no i dont want minors consuming that shit but like many people as a kid i personally had fantasies about a hot older person falling for me and having a forbidden romance with me. it's a silly teenage fantasy that shouldn't come true but isn't inherently harmful to have as a kid because of course you're gonna be attracted to adults in your teens, it's normal and healthy to be attracted to adults and fine to even prefer them over your less matured and still growing peers.

what obviously isn't okay is dating them but even that isn't on the teenager because they literally do not know better outside of it being illegal. they don't usually get why or want to get why when they're caught up in their hormonal adolescent emotions. but unfortunately the people making this age gap shit and the main demographic for it are not minors getting catharsis. it's adults. grown ass adults in their grown ass ages are the ones most excited for these things to come out. they're the ones recommending this shit, sometimes even to minors, thinking it's good stuff and entertainment that normal people would want to consume. and it just really fucking gets to me that there are so many age gap romances like that with fanbases consisting mostly of adult women who think it's enjoyable to see and read these things play out.

and even if it does end sad or there's some kind of moment of clarity, it doesn't erase the good cinematography/acting/writng/love scenes/general aesthetic which those people relate to. like seeing a grown ass woman hyped for a movie where a woman in her age group grooms a kid ten years her junior is deeply disturbing to me but what gets me even more is knowing how many others out there are like her and how quick she and many of them are and will be to snap at anyone questioning the morality and validity of using such a concept for a quarter life crisis genre dramcom. like is that what your quarter life crises are doing to you? can't relate you sick fucks, get help and grow the fuck up if you think that does anything for you other than make you look like a creepy emotionally stunted weirdo just like all the older dudes trying to fuck younger chicks. you're honestly worse than those guys because i truly believe that women should fucking know better considering how vigilant and aware of predators girlhood makes you.

it's not just a moral failure, it honestly feels like betrayal when women do that shit. like women of all people spent their teens dealing with those exact types of men hurting them and their friends so to see women excited to see the roles reversed and not feeling the amount of discomfort i know they would if it mirrored their experiences shows that they don't actually care about these things, they just cared when there was a possibility it would happen to them. and i just KNOW a lot of these sick fucks are gonna whine about how "it's ~different~" somehow when the discourse gets heated. and it's fuckin gonna.

you can't just make movies like that anymore no matter how much you try to demonize the older character in the text, there's been a serious rise in people coming out against and about being groomed and this sudden public awareness means a movie like that is gonna be heavily scrutinized and discussed in a manner that ties back to the real life issue at hand. maybe you could have gone under the radar with this ten or so years ago but you cannot make or enjoy a film like that without being put under the microscope and treated like a potential perpetrator by the majority. people stopped taking chances these past couple of years and backlogs of abuse done by public going back three decades are coming out of the woodwork every day with people being quicker to take the sides of victims. if aren't an abuser but still like that shit people aren't gonna just trust you unless they're in the same boat as you and enjoy that kind of gross shit, literal children, or actual predators thinking you're one of them and that is not a good look for you. people will drag it up in arguments and always treat you like a possible abuser to be weary of. you literally cannot make or enjoy that shit anymore and tbh i don't even know why you would with everything that's come out regarding that kind of abuse and relationship toxicity.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Thoughts on After? beyond the whole "this is a toxic relationship and we should expose vulnerable teenage girls to this etc. etc.". I just feel like it's objectively unsexy? there is nothing attractive about the main guy or girl and it's just bad. I feel like teenage girls would probably be better off reading some mildly toxic HR and call it a day

Yeah, tbh you kind of hit its issues for me. I don't.... necessarily care all that much about its toxicity. Like, yes, it is. Hardin* and Tessa** are in an abusive relationship, no doubt. But I think worrying about the types of media young people consume is a fool's errand. (And though After certainly gets marketed as 50 Shades for teens, which is... hilarious, it technically is not officially sold as YA. It's New Adult, which is supposed to target, well, young grown ups.). Subversive content is always going to be made, and in particular with romance there will always be problematic books. And problematic content isn't always bad--some of the most beautifully written, entertaining romance novels are problematic. A good story doesn't have to be morally correct; many, maybe even most, aren't. What we need to do is make sure that young people are raised in a way that allows them to ask questions about the material they consume, and understand the difference between fiction and reality. They need to be able to understand the difference between being with an alpha~ who can be tamed in romance novels, and finding the right partner in real life... or not!

My issue really is with how poorly written the books are and how remarkably unsexy they are, in the books and the movies. I mean, I guess there's always your own brain filling in the blanks when you read (fantasizing about a hotter Hardin and better sex scenes) but damn. Those movies.... Like no offense to Hero, he may be a great person, I have no idea, but the boy can't act. And I can't personally be attracted to him because, appearance preferences aside, he looks so young. But honestly, both of those things could potentially be overcome with sexier sex scenes. However, not only are they poorly choreographed (am I supposed to be impressed by Hardin vaguely kissing around her pubic region lol) and shot... Jo doesn't play Tessa like she's into it? After We Fell especially was borderline uncomfortable. I think of the pool scene where she's sort of just letting him jackhammer her while she does some contrived moaning. It feels like she's just trying to let him get off so she can go back to relaxing.

And the thing is that at least for me, I just don't see it as a love story. I can read some problematic books. I've read dubcon and been down for it (in the right setting), I've read about heroes kidnapping their heroines. But there was always some element of tenderness in how the heroine is treated by the hero. Like the kidnapping book I'm thinking of--The Highwayman. The hero kidnaps her, they have (somewhat) rough sex. But he doesn't belittle her, doesn't constantly ask her if she's thinking of other men... If anything, he clearly doesn't think he's worthy of being with her and basically just wants to put her on a pedestal. (Which has its own problems). Hardin speaks to Tessa like she's constantly looking at other guys, which she isn't--but if she is, then she's a whore and he's the victim and honestly she should feel lucky to be with him, what with his ability to suck on an ice cube before kissing her. You get the sense that this guy thinks he's HOT SHIT and he honestly... isn't. Like, you're a 20 year old who thinks that you're the biggest man on campus. Call me when you can rent a car, kiddo. But maybe that's my issue with New Adult coming in lol.

While there is good New Adult to be found, tbh I'd rather teen girls start out with well-done adult romance novels, HR or otherwise. That's what I did, and the worst I can say it did to me was give me a preference for older men lol. But not to the point that I took any shit from adults sniffing around me when I was a teen. So, no harm really.

Like, teen romance readers--read Devil in Winter. Read The Highwayman. Shit, read The Love Hypothesis if you really don't want to try HR. (Though you should!!!). The romance is better, the sex is better, the general plots are better.

*Hardon

**TESSAH!

[babe-of-swoles]

This post is a dream I had (last night) that I've organized into making sense. So here is the dream as a short story.

The Dream:

There's a hole in my yard. It's not big, maybe the size of a largish pumpkin, or a very ambitious watermelon. But, it's deep.

How deep does it go?

Most of the time, I hardly notice it there. I've planted some trees around it, alder, and birch. Aspen too. I don't want anyone wandering into it.

But I always know it's there. Like a whisper.

Like a game of hide and seek, when you're hidden, and your friend is searching nearby. They walk out of sight, but you feel them.

It's so hot today. It's cooler near the hole...

There's a mist around it. Sometimes. Sometimes not, just dappled.sunshine. so inviting. So benign.

How deep is it?

I piled up the compost around the hole, like an anthill. The shit gets scattered again each night, so it's clear. The grass grows a little taller, a little greener, so you think maybe there's a spring.

Can you hear the water?

It's been years since I found it. I hardly remember how I got the house, not from someone, an auction maybe, or an easement.

But I found the hole on a summer day when the grass was dry and yellow like hay, with a sweet smell in the air of all the nectar the bees were too full to drink, with the saltiness of grasshopper tobacco overlaid.

The first time I looked in,

Look at it

it was cool inside, no mist, lined with dark rocks like the basalt that formed the cliffs against the sea near home. There were spiderwebs in the corner, and lush moss, and something dawn where the sun hardly reached that might have been a key.

I've always loved keys.

I almost climbed down. I thought about it, scurrying down the rocks like I'd done as a kid back home, but I was a hey from gardening, and wearing the wrong shoes, and it probably wasn't a key always, and what would it even unlock.

And when I looked again, it wasn't at all like that. It was dark, and swirling, and sod-sided.

You should have climbed in.

I tried covering it over, like you do with an old well. The corrugated tin must have blown away in a storm. I piled stones like a cairn, and they scattered by night.

So the trees, and the compost.

I began planting flowers around it. Not pretty enough to be plucked, just, enough so people would feel guilty trampling them. Pansies. Low growing phlox and clover. Roses.

They grew so well near the hole.

Imagine how well they would grow inside.

I was afraid to eat the strawberries I'd planted. Afraid to taste the honey from the bees that nested in a tree I couldn't remember planting, too old to be mine, but it was there, old like the house, though there was a time it hadn't been.

I used to have neighbors. Not close, but sometimes I'd see them, walking the dogs, or the children riding bikes down the old road. The pavement was pale gray, and cracked all over.

I used to warn them. "Watch out for the hole" I'd say, "it's real deep you could break something."

But the kids would come at night and dare each other to throw rocks in, or bottles, and then they'd kneel around the edges, listening for the sound of it hitting the bottom.

Can you see the bottom?

And then they'd shine a light down, and lean in and in and in and in, until up became down.

Sometimes no one came out. Sometimes, what came out looked like them, but wasn't. They moved wrong. Their skin wasn't quite the same color. Their hair was longer, much longer, and their teeth were sharp and spaced apart, like a shark, or a mole.

When things came out, they hungered for blood. They rooted through the compost for bugs and worms and shoved them by the fistful into their mouths, or climbed the stone face of the house to eat the eggs and baby pigeons from their nests.

They called to the neighborhood dogs, with voices like frightened rabbits, and bit through their ribs while they howled in silence.

I used to warn people. But that made them curious.

I built hives for the bees, and planted more flowers. Their hum kept people away, mostly.

One day, I dropped a plank across the hole. It unbalanced, tipped in, and when I pulled it out, the end has grown roots, pale, shining white.

I planted it, and it grew, so quickly.

There are other miracles here.

I began bringing things, dead branches, plants and leaves, and settling them around the edges, so they'd have roots in the mornings. Turning my garden into a grove, into a forest.

They couldn't wander in if they couldn't walk.

But sometimes the trees moved. Some days they were thinner, sparser. A stand of saplings spaced wide apart. Others they were old and gnarled, with brush grown high between them, vines snaking up their trunks, and deer tracks, narrow and winding, paths so thin you could only walk them placing one foot directly in front of the other, arms up and bracing you against the trees so you wouldn't lose your balance and fall into the brambles, the blackberries, the roses so old their vines were like wood.

But you could walk them.

One year there were so many butterflies. Not monarchs, but orange. Smaller ones, I've forgotten their name. They flew like a flock, like a swarm, landed along the branches of the maples, and weighed so heavy on the flowers that the stems broke.

I think it moved sometimes, the hole. It was always in my garden, always where you could see the stone face of the house, always just past where the shadow of the peak of the roof could reach at it's longest, but... Not always in the same place.

I'd forget where it was, exactly, but just know the feeling of being close, and then suddenly it was there but a little to the side of where I expected.

"Your garden is really pretty." The girl was young, a teen. Or maybe twenty? Not more than thirty. "I'm sorry it's so overgrown. Do you need help with it?"

My voice sounded so much older when I said hello, as if I'd lived here years and years, but it couldn't have been more than a few days.

She started by pulling weeds. The dandelions. The Goatheads. The vines that choked out my old trees so long ago. Or was it yesterday?

She brought lemonade some days, or watermelon slices. Sometimes we didn't even work in the garden, just sat on the largest of the old cairnstones, and talked about the birds that flitted through, her classes at the community college, the shapes of the clouds, and the men she could almost fall for, but not quite.

But all good things come to an end. And one day she found the hole.

"please," I whispered.

Her green eyes stared into the depths, and light flickered and rippled over her face, as if reflected on waves. "It's beautiful." She breathed.

"I know it is." My bones ached, "but you can't go in."

"only for a moment," she stepped down, and her foot stopped as if on a stair. Down again, and again.

You could come too.

I went into the house, where all my things were dusty and faded. I hadn't opened that closet in years, where I kept it, but the axe inside was sharp, and shining.

My trees looked so young through the windows, and I felt young and strong. I waited through the witching hours, and just before dawn she came, crawling in all fours like a wild thing, scurrying sideways and catching squirrels in her teeth to eat.

I sighed with a heaviness in my heart beyond measure. It was time.

[nonbinarypoststhings]

Hi, irrelevant, I know, but do you remember anything about the highschool period of your life? I swear this part is the most stressful part of all my life, first I figure out my sexuality, then I move away from all my friends, then my gender, and as if it's not enough, add to that school and standardised tests and all the typical drama of being a teen. Oh and also don't forget that you're somehow supposed to make choices that will affect the rest of your life.How does anyone even survive it?

I do remember my high school life, and as I have reconnected with one of my old classmates recently, I've even talked a bit about it with her.

(Warning for Homophobia, transphobia, Sexism, Racism. Only the homophobia is like explicit, but the others are mentioned. Feel free to tell me if there is more warnings I should have. Also, long post)

High school is a tough period of time for everyone. Everyone is struggling with who they are, and what they want in life.

And add in the layer of being Lgbtq+ it becomes more frustrating.

I have a hard time translating the school things from my country to others, but I believe I graduated what would be translated into high school only this year, but I will still talk about my old school which I graduated from three years ago.

My class back then was not the best place for anyone who is lgbtq+. Me and the classmate I mentioned earlier connected well back then, and still do now, but the rest of them..? Not so much (I will also exclude two more people from that rest, who also is my friends now).

We were a class of 22 or 23, and yes I believe that most of us probably were at least somewhat accepting of the lgbtq+ community, we still only had, from what I know, 2 people who actually is in the community. Neither of us accepted it at the time, even though we both were proudly supportive of the community.

The thing is, she struggled with internalized shit about her identity and that delayed the realization.

I was genderfluid, and same thing there. I denied my own gender because, my friend was nonbinary, I couldn't also be, right? So internlized shit that delayed the realization.

Neither of us came to term with it until after we had left that school.

But I have a clear memory of us both Hating our class, we were a class of mainly guys, and every single guy was white (tbf, we had 1 person who wasn't white in our class all together).

We all know what white cis straight men are famous for...

Being bigots.

I don't know if anything has changed these past years, I haven't talked to them. But back then,

At least half of them were openly sexist, homophobic, transphobic etc.

I have a clear memory, that still Disgusts me so much to this day, of a sex ed class where the teacher, bless her, tried to be inclusive and ask us what we thought about gay couples. (Not how it should be done, but it was atleast a try in the right direction) The guys, who always ran the show (the ones I hated more than I think I can explain), said (TW for Homophobia):

"Gay guys are disgusting. Lesbians are hot".

I was so mad, my skin was crawling with disgust, still is when I think about it. To everyone who only accept lesbians because they think it's hot, you are disgusting. Lesbians are real people and they are not there to please some man. It's not for you, it's between the lesbian and her girlfriend and you should Stay Out Of It!

It wasn't a great place to be out in, so maybe it wasn't weird for us to ignore our own identity, to not want to be lgbtq+ in that space, because if we had been out back then even just to ourselves we would've had to face these people every day and therefore face these kind of things knowing that they are talking about us like this. Even though they didn't know it, they were and it was disgusting and terrible.

(I am not saying repress your gender or sexuality until you are older, you don't have to do that at all. Just be safe, and know that if people are mean or ignorant, they are wrong. You are valid and loved and we all support you so much. Find support, and don't let bigots tear you down. You are Valid and you are who You are no matter what others tell you)

I wanted out of that class, from those people, ever since I was like 6-7 years old. I hoped when we switched school when we were 12-13 that I would end up without a bunch of them. I did still have that same class, which really I had expected even if I hoped differently.

At 16 I got a change to move across the country, I took it. Actually, I kinda fought for it, and I was lucky enough to get it.

Moving away from all my friends were scary even if I had made an active choice to do so. I was terrified that I would be lonely, and that everyone at this new school would be terrible and I had to move back home and face that shame of failure (obvs, it wouldn't be actual failure to get out of a toxic place if it has been that, but I saw it as such)

When I came to this new school, everything was super different from back home.

My class was, to my standards, filled with so many different people with different cultures. All of them different from mine because I was from across the country, from a small town. And suddenly here I was in a gigantic city.

Anyway, this school taught me a lot, about everything. My class had openly Lgbtq+ people. My new friends were suddenly all queer or questioning, and I was in awe, because... It could be like this?

Also, everyone was super nice to me. Asking for my instagram on day 1 so we could be friends on there, showing me how to get back home in this new city when everything was so new to be, starting conversations and being just geniune good people. Like, huge shout out to those people.

I learned so much about oppression, and how to stand against it in this school, not because I myself was oppressed, I'm white and at the time I thought I was cishet.

No, I learned because our teachers wanted us to learn about all these things that I knew were real problems but I had only heard of in fiction, never in real life.

I got to a safe space, where racist teachers got fired asap. Where teachers were openly queer and my classmates could come out as trans to the class simply by stating their new name and pronouns. No questions asked. I got to a school where every introduction included name and pronouns. Where we were all shown that we can be who we are and that is okay. And where teachers apologized to students in a real and honest way when they did something wrong.

In this environment I got to figure out who I am. Yes it took two years, but I figured it out and felt safe enough to tell my new friends in weeks, because they accept everyone.

So, the question, how do you survive high school?

My answer is simply, you hold onto the belief that you will survive, and that things will get better. And you will get there.

You can try to find other lgbtq+ people in your school, I know some have groups you can join (mine didn't).

And with the tests, I guess I recommend you study, and remember that a bad grade isn't the end of the world. You are worth more than a grade.

I wish I could promise you that you could enter a school like mine, where everything certainly wasn't perfect (you never get rid of high school drama...), but it was still a very friendly space.

But I can promise you that you are not alone and things will be better. If it gets better in high school or if it gets better years later, I can't tell you. But it does get better. And you will survive.

Also, sorry for this extremely long answer, it was probably not what you're looking for. But I hope you find an answer in there eitherway.

Long story short, high school is a shitshow, but the show must go on.

Also, gender neutral bathrooms in schools should be standard (it has been in all schools I've gone to and no one is complaining here, not even the transphobes).

Also, the reason why I barely mention the girls in my old class, is simply because there were almost none and nothing any of them have said when I've been around has been relevant to this answer.

Tell me if you want things tagged or added to the warnings at top.

[terrablaze514]

Being Black + R. Kelly, Living With Secrets, and Writing Catatonic Fanfics

Hey everyone.

I'm up extra early, because this is bugging my mind and heart right now. The words might leave if I don't voice (write) it.

In a few hours, I'll be going to church again. Christian, yes. Predominantly Black, you've guessed it. Both of these cancel each other out. Why?

Despite my suspicions growing up, the vast majority of Black people I knew (family, friends, acquaintances, etc.) were still jamming to R. Kelly's music. It makes all the more sense why he's known as, "The Pied Piper", and that's scary as buck if you stop to think about it.

I've never understood why he was permitted to keep making music. Why the buck does Wendy Williams still have an audience? Why did 2Pac and Michael Jackson get destroyed by false allegations (until their sunset), while R. Kelly is still a free man in the music industry with proof of sexual deviance in multiple court cases?

I was 7 when I was molested by a grown woman. I couldn't approach my parents about it, because she became a close friend to my mother, got closer to other notable family friends, and I was already misunderstood at school and church (Grade 2 was a horrible year). My parents were also coming to terms with their breakup, so it didn't help (because what if they had another physical altercation?). Top that with the ongoing belief that men were innately predators...

October 2018, I've had a nightmare of her stalking me while visiting my hometown (the 514) - woke up in a sweat, purchased Black Panther on Google Play Movies, and watched the movie until my eyes shut again... Because mentally, I needed to feel safe. I wanted Wakanda's protection. And I ended up getting it in my dreams (occasionally). M'Baku and The Jabari Tribe are the best!

Back on topic... So, while I'm happy that justice is happening, I'm also disappointed. Deeply disappointed in The Black Community for sweeping this issue under the rug.👏🏾Every.👏🏾 Single.👏🏾Time.👏🏾 I understand firsthand why it's hard to come forward. Allow me to explain (and these are some of the reasons why going to church is a farce in my book).

I've shared with a few Gundam Wing fans (via Discord) that I've sung in three choirs (four if school curriculum counts). To this day, I still jam to my favourite songs and sing as a secret means to calm down when times are too stressful (and if I have no access to a pen and notebook). So why bring this up? Simply put, during my tenure in the third choir, I was spanked and grabbed on the buttocks for holding the door open for an elderly man. [This isn't funny, so if you're laughing, check yourself or leave my blog ASAP]. Not only did this trigger my fear and cripple my confidence as a young adult, but I wasn't able to focus. I've felt scared... Moreso when I've relayed the incident to a few choir members. They've laughed it off, because it sounded funny to them.

It didn't help that this also happened a week after one of my closest friends had died from cancer (and I couldn't make it to his funeral). So being forced to laugh it off, take it with a grain of salt, and keeping it moving wasn't easy. Also, being Black means you don't cry. "Stay strong," is all people would ever say.

I've also been approached and stalked by some strange men, around my age (no older than 27). I'd be waiting at the bus stop so I can commute to work. Strange man shows up, and requests (to the point of begging) that I take the taxi with him. One week later, he begs me to skip work and come over to his place. For what, only God knows. I didn't go, but I've sent text messages to friends. The majority of them found it funny - except one, who also called to check up on me. If it were up to him, he'd drive across town and set the stalker straight.

That was then.

There was a fellow co-worker (cisgender woman) who used to touch, or feel up my inner thighs and buttocks without my consent, and in the presence of customers. How many times have I reported her, yet supervisors promoted her, and would say, "That's her way of giving people props."

What the heck?

Then, by the time I was 25, I've reached my breaking point despite graduating from college and acquiring two careers to call my own. My physical appearance (gaining weight), marital status ("let's find a boyfriend for you on WhatsApp Messenger"), and popularity were the only things that mattered. Damn it all to the grave.

Dating prospects were more like, groomers. And they were all Christian Churchians.💯 I've never given up the V-card, but I've tried to fit in to the point of mental starvation and social exhaustion. In the worst case scenario, I've heard adults (including a parent) poke rape jokes. What's so funny about that?

We sure as hell did not deserve Aaliyah, because the ignorance is real.

I've ended up writing a fanfic project that deals with the music industry, and emphasizes deep comparisons between a good rep team versus an evil rep team, by pulling bits and pieces of experiences by real artists, as well as my "inability to be more transparent/speak up/get out of my shell", and conceptions of what could go wrong if there was no access to a healthy outlet... Combined them into the realities of the characters I'm borrowing. It's still in progress; I'm a perfectionist, yet, the story needs to be told.

There's a second project where two cousins grow up together in the kingdom, get separated after the death of a family member, and the elder cousin searches for his bestie in America. Friendships are formed, but there's also a rampant rape culture against girls in the community where his cousin took residence... Pedophiles will get killed after witnessing the dismissal of reports by police. Go figure.

Writing these types of things, is an outlet. I don't condone abuse, murder, things of that dark nature, but honestly. I grew up in a rape culture. I need a healthy way to deal with (process) that.

Talking about it to people is only safe enough in therapy sessions. Outside of that, get laughed at. Mocked. Told that You deserve it (or did something to deserve it).

I've contemplated suicide last month. Resurfaced memories do more harm than good... And even if I followed through on December 29th (I'm glad I didn't), everything in this post, especially the woman predator who was a babysitter, is the secret I would've taken to my grave. Who could I talk to without feeling unsafe or unwelcome? Without laughing it off in a dismissive manner? Without assuming that I've done something to deserve it, like forgetting to pull on my panties first?

No one.

I've been taught that my big butt, juicy thighs, bust... Yet fat belly, rolls on my back, and somewhat bouncy arms, are something to be ashamed of. From 14 to 23, I used to sport Beyoncé's figure (used to be slimmer)... Yet I still had to feel guilty for embracing that, because if I didn't cover up... If I walked out late... If I didn't keep up with trends... if I didn't turn up for what... If I didn't drop it like it's hot, turn around and bump bump bump, my body too bootylicious for 'em, 'cause if it's worth it lemme work it... And whenever I did these things...

I am guilty.

Now that I'm older, and I don't do these things as often...

I am still guilty.

Because I grew up in a community and a society that hates rapists and pedophiles while making excuses for rapists and pedophiles if I spoke up. If other girls and women spoke up. If boys and men came forward with their true accounts without receiving homophobic comments, or the overused, "You became a real man, congratulations!" Canada's Supreme Court will not keep a sex predator behind bars for more than ten years. That's all the additional proof you need.

The hypocrisy was real, and it still is.

There was an incident where a little girl complained about a church elder touching her... No one believed her.

Later on in my teens, a teenage boy was falsely accused of sexual harassment, and everyone believed the lie (except his closest friends, whom told her to stop following them around).

Another church elder (and a Bible thumper), fondled my breasts out of spite - and my mother blamed me! The next time I've seen that elder, I've set her straight, but who the hell am I for talking? She's still the most respected because she knows every scripture passage, from Genesis to Revelation, and also knows every volume, word for word, from The Spirit of Prophecy. So she has no sin...

THE LIES!

I was nervous shaky the entire time.

So growing up Black, in a church community, as a girl (now a woman) had many catastrophes. I'm not crazy for putting this out there, just keeping it real. I'll be in church in approximately less than three hours from now, and if anyone cracks jokes or makes demeaning comments about R. Kelly's current and former victims, talking about how they're fast, and how they should've come forward... Nah, Hollywood gets away with sexual deviance against minors. A large percentage of them have bought R. Kelly's music, at music stores and on iTunes/Google Play Music. No surprise, huh? As much as I love my church family, I cannot accommodate the ignorance that's gone on for my whole life so far. *Sigh* This has blackened my heart, I just... I am at a loss, not only for R. Kelly's victims, but every child and youth who will be targeted by men and women who cannot be trusted.

I will always support Black Empowerment, Black Lives Matter and Black History... But I have zero tolerance for the enabling of pedophiles and rapists. Even the jokes. It's distasteful.

If you are a supporter/apologist of R. Kelly, Sparkle, Marques Houston, and any other person who'd used/subjected minors to assault and/or grooming, get off my page. And stop pretending to be a huge Aaliyah fan... We've lost her because the adults in her life had failed in exchange for her fame. We also owe Michael Jackson's family an apology for destroying his character and career under false allegations, while R. Kelly was still a free man, preying on girls and grooming boys to become like him... And all the evidence of his crimes were readily available on the archives while I was in Junior High. While we're at it, Kitti Jones and Drea Kelly need to take several seats. They've had every opportunity to approach the police. They've known what R. Kelly did to all those girls and how it's destroyed their youth. They are the poorest examples of how to put sex offenders in their place, just so they can get money now that #MeToo (who never gave a damn about half of your experiences, unless you were penetrated by a man)... Nuh-uh! The lives that were destroyed by rape, molestation, grooming and exploitation matter more than the money anyone might make from a case that should've been dealt with decades ago! My heart is very heavy throughout this post. I know it's Sabbath hours, but I'm currently listening to "Don't Stay" by Linkin Park, because it truly reflects my thoughts and memories, in the wake of #SurvivingRKelly.

Everyone (especially Black people) who put on R. Kelly during weddings and birthday celebrations, I've taken notes. You will not be trusted around my future children (if it's meant to be). I've never healed, yet. The community does not offer a safe space to heal from the damage that's been done. So when I hear about Chester Bennington (Linkin Park -I hope I spelled his name right), AJ and Nick (Backstreet Boys - their parents stood up for their sons), B2K (especially Raz-B), IMx, Sammy, O'Ryan, the victim of Brock Turner, a few victims of Bill Cosby and that actor from 7th Heaven, the young girl who was sexually assaulted and exploited by that loser who was granted a chance to finish up his studies at UofC (University of Calgary), Natasha McKenna who was stripped, dehumanized and tasered in her last moments by eight men, the former victims of Eddie Long who were forcibly silenced, the girl who was raped, hospitalized and raped again in the hospital by her father and brother... This is real ish. I have no more words. Leave my page if you support R. Kelly... Special shoutout to John Legend for keeping it real. Another special shoutout to Terry Crews who spoke up. To the victims of Harvey Weinstein and Kevin Spacey, you also need to get your voices heard, because you also matter. To the victims of Ryan Seacrest, the same also applies. May Corey Haim Rest in Power, because Charlie Sheen is getting his just reward for what he did decades ago. Although I'm glad B2K is reuniting for tour, I've been conflicted with how R. Kelly wrote your popular hits. That wasn't your fault, though. Your former manager (Chris Stokes - another pedophile) had that set up for your grooming - good thing y'all left TUG behind when you did. Other artists and notable faces in the entertainment industry - you don't have to comment, but I beseech you to STOP collaborating with R. Kelly. What he did to those girls is beyond me. If you keep enabling him, you're now guilty for proving that rape is okay.

It is not.💯

[crazyartdad]

Wow just kissing

Hes surprised how his parents still slept as Stuart crept back to his room, stumbling drunkenly through a dark hallway in a great attempt to sneak. And while the last crack of the door was shut he was even more surprised how they didn't wake up from they yell that followed after.

Hell you scared him too.

“Shit from how much we see each other you'd think-fuck” He says ruffling a hand through his unwashed hair.

Stuart relaxed against his door, heaving a sigh of relief as he looked over to the punk that sat at his windowsill, calmly putting out a cigarette bud. “Sorry, im alittle drunk and, I didnt think- the light n stuff”.

“Get a little nasty did we?” Mudz asks vaguely with a chuckle as he goes to plop down on the end of your bed.

“Naw, heads a bit swimmin. Decided to dip out afta a few hours” He says discarding his shirt, staggering to his dresser to find his bottle of pills. Finding the bottle he looked to the label with half a mind and popped three to swallow them dry.

“I was looking through your music, and might I add that you have...a very nice taste added to the mix.” the Bassists purred in approval using the Bluenettes new Rolling Stones album to fan away the leftover smoke that settled in the room..

“Careful with how much I paid for it, it's worth more then ya life”

“Ah so it was stolen” He laughs gathering a new cigarette between his lips, offering one to Stuart has he goes to play the disc. 2D Grabs a match from his pockets as he strikes a flame against his leg, holding it steadily to his end before waving the light out.

“Pops let ya in or dija sneak?” he asks through a wave of smoke.

“You know I come when I please, Whos party?” Murdoc asks after setting the needle down gently.”

“Emma Crabunk” Stuart said with a nasty tone as he settled on the bed to slip off his shoes.

“Thought you said she was a bitch”

“Still is but she throws a damn good party, thought I was bringing drugs tho. Like id share any wit er” he says rolling his eyes with a mumble, Mudz leaned against the wall.

“Meet any cuties?”

Stuart takes a minute to think, “there was this nice dark girl, real great hair, cool ass glasses-” he thought aloud. “One of them Disco Hippie chicks, yanno? We danced a bit but I didn't really feel like jumpin her, Think she came with this other chick anyway” He says with another drag from his smoke.

“Nice” he says “How was ya concert tonight?” “Well you weren't there, so kinda boring really. Had a seat up front fer ya..” “You mad I didn't go?” Stuart asks sitting up to face him

He gives a shrug hoping to brush off the topic before taking another drag to blow to the cracked window. He opens his mouth to speak but decides against it shaking his head.

“What?” He asks looking concerned “Nothing, just there was a party... I wanted to take ya too after, good one I coulda got ya some drinks and stuff” he shrugs again nonchalantly as he made his way over “Oh...Sorry” Stuart muttered looking down, rubbing the back of his neck

Murdoc gruffs a bit to show he’s unconcerned at the problem before resting his hands behind his head, falling back to the sheets below.

“ No foul play, we can hang here. After all, i'm welcomed whenever~” “That you are~” Stuart plays back

They sit in silence for a few songs, listening to comfortable thoughts in a smoked filled room while the record player spun some classic rolling stones.

“I like Keith Richards” “Yeah, he's kinda hot” Stuart smirks “Ment music wise but yeah, pretty bangable. I mean ya don't have ta be bent ta know that” “What about Jagger?” “Something bout him seems off, good voice just…..maybe his hair?”

“Really? I thought he was some sort of Idol” Stuart asks oh so innocently hoping to rile the older male.

Murdoc sits up looking appalled

“Keiths a sex God, how could you look at Mick and think yeah I'd fuck that awkward mess” “You're just saying that because Keith looks like you!” “Exactly!, he's stealing my looks and moves” He laughs putting his cigarette out on his boot.

Stuart laughs and sits up to flick his cigarette out the window with Mudz, shifting closer to him. He props his head in his hand and stares down the teen-esque male, poking his tongue through his gap teeth.

“So who's really stealing, him or you?” “You wanna find out?~” He says with a cocky smile.

Without thinking, Stuart leans down to capture a sudden kiss. Surprised at his own boldness and earning a squeak from none other than Murdoc himself. He thought about pulling away, suddenly feeling all to aware at the awkward situation and the possibility of completely fucking up his friendship.

But with even more shock Murdoc claims the kiss just as eagerly as Stuart.

“I-Im sorry its jus that-” He starts, pulling away for a hitch of breath only to get yanked back by the locks of his hair. Stuart gave a moan of approval ignoring the sharp pain of the others teeth that clipped the edge of his lips.

The taste of whiskey and smoke filled his mouth, something oddly charming as it fit well with the others rough characteristics. It was the kind of drunken attention he'd been craving all night as Murdoc pulls slightly at the his bottom lip. Invading his mouth to run his tongue along the gap in front he caused several years back during a game of pool gone wrong. He maneuvers the man lightly, hoping to urge him to his lap and was all to giddy when he complied, pushing the kiss a little harder.

Settling his leg over Stuart detaches himself from his lips to leave a trail of kisses down Murdoc's neck, trembling with every little noise that slips near his ear. The Satanist grasps the his hips as he slips his eyes closed, relaxing against the grazing teeth against his jaw.

“Fuck” he half yelp as Stuart bravery took a bite at his neck, he could feel the bruise beginning to form as a tongue pressed against the vein stained in his neck along with the stiffness rising in his jeans. “Ok?” He asks looking over Mudz with an all too concerned look in his eyes, fuck this was too vulnerable he told himself tingeing red from the thought of being so affected by so little. This needs to change ASAP.

Pushing himself up from the bed he grabs his hips in a vice grip and decides to dominate by parting his slips once more. This is..a lot more complicated (and hotter) than what was initially thought, trying to settle both their dominance was hard especially when Stuart ran his hands through the greasy mess of hair that Murdoc all to much enjoyed

All was well, good music, a slight buzz. additive kissing with heavy petting had them both shaking for more but before Murdoc could get ahold of eithers belt a knock at the door caused them both to pale and cease their actions.

“Stewie-honey? Are you ok?” His mom ask through the door.

Scurrying up from Murdoc’s lap he makes a break to the door before his mom bursts onto the current situation. The Bassists gives a toothy grin at the familiar nickname as he looks to the mirror to fix his hair and shirt.

He opens the door without haste, startling the poor mother she stood worryingly in her bathrobe. He gives a small coughs, thankful of the darkness to hide his embarrassed face.

“Are you feeling alright?, I heard noises is- Stuart is that smoke I smell? What did I tell you about smoking inside!” She says starting out concerned only to have her face distort from the smell that wafted through.

“I- Mom sorry I-”

“Hello Mrs. Pot!” Murdoc calls from the room

Stuart jolts from the noise but is relieved when he sees his mom soften from the all too familiar sound. Stuart pushes open the door a tad more so Murdoc can wave from the bed, a sudden stack of records in his lap.

“Murdoc honey oh! Hello!, everything alright dear, you're here pretty late?” “Im fine Mrs.Pot n’ sorry for the noise, I stubbed my toe on the damn dresser” “Language please” She scolds and he holds up his hands in defeat “We're fine mom, just-” “Well you're always welcomed,” She interrupts “just please no smoking inside and don't forget you have classes tomorrow- has he been a good host Murdoc?” “Nothing but the best~” he says with his best snake smile, eyeing down Stuart and his all to apparent flustered state. Rachel smiles lovingly at her boys and kisses Stuarts cheek goodnight before heading back down the hall leaving both men to sit in silence.

“Past your bedtime Stewie?” He asks mockingly

Stuart gives him a look trying to think of something to say, but with nothing coming to mind due to his still current state of high he settles with a heartfelt middle finger to the crackling Musician.

[kor-knight]

Hey girly, I saw from one of your anons that you're a teen wolf fan. Can i get a fic like episode 4x09 (the one where that brunsky doctor dude kidnaps stiles and lydia and makes her listen to her grandmother dying and stuff if you remember the one I'm on about) but with betty and jughead. Maybe have like some riverdale character kidnap them and then emotionally tortures them and jugheads all like "get the fuck away from my girl" and then the other half of the crew can save them and lots of fluff

I KNOW YOU WANTED FLUFF BUT AS I WAS WRITING IT TURNED TO THIS. Please don’t hate me!!! 

“HELP!”

“Betty, no one canhear us. Please stop shouting.” Jughead stated pointedly, archinghis neck to look at her.

“Someone is comingto find us. Right? … Right Juggie?” Her voice broke. Jugheaddidn’t need to see her face to know tears were streaming freely. Hetugged his hand against the restraints, grasping her fingers withhis.

“Our friends willfind us, ok? But I need you to stay calm.” His voice was steady,albeit his racing heart. She took a deep breath, sniffling.

“So do you happento know where we are?” Her voice was quiet, uneven.

Jughead justshrugged. Realizing she couldn’t see this response, he just gruntedout a no. Looking around the room, all that stood out was a desk inthe corner. They were tied to a wooden post, back to back on oppositesides. A small metal door was closed, presumably locked, off to theleft, and an even smaller window was off to the right. They were in abasement, that much you could tell. But where? That’s the realquestion.

“What do youremember last?” Jughead asked, sifting through the memories of theday before himself. They were on the brink of finding out who killedJason Blossom. The lead they had lead them to Thornhill manor. Aninsider close to the family said a clue was in the master bedroom.

“I remember beingat the Blossom house. We were – uh. We  were looking for something,right?” She said quietly. Jughead just nodded again.

They were searchingfor something, unsure of origin or actual location other than hiddenbehind the huge oak doors of Clifford and Penelope Blossom’sbedroom. They arrived at the house for Jason’s memorial – thewhole town had been given invites. After countless arguments aboutwhether or not they should attend, Betty finally convinced him thiswould be an operative mission. Get in, find the stuff, get out.Strictly by the books stealth. Except they hadn’t been as stealthyas they hoped, given their current situation.

Jughead was broughtback to reality when the small metal door was opened. Standing justoutside the frame was none other than Clifford Blossom himself, twoburly men behind him. A wicked smile played on his lips when his eyescast down on the two teenagers before him. Mr. Blossom strolled intothe stuffy room, shutting the door promptly. He paced back and fortha few times, filling the air with so much tension, Betty could feelit in her throat every time she swallowed.

Then finally, Mr.Blossom faced them, clasped his hands together, and opened his mouth.“It seems we have a bit of a pickle here, Mr. Jones and Ms. Cooper.I was told you two were caught in the master bedroom of ThornhilManor.” He crouched down, closer to Betty. “Now why would you twoneed in there? Surely nothing you couldn’t have just asked me for,isn’t that right?” Clifford’s finger trailed down the side ofBetty’s face, making her flinch, grasping Jughead’s fingerstightly.

“Do not touch mygirl.” Jughead’s voice dripped with venom as he pulled hardagainst the ropes, pain flaring at the burns it caused.

Mr. Blossom let outa chuckle, placing his hand on Betty chin, turning her face to him.“What should I do with you, huh?” Betty clenched her teeth,looking away. His fingers gripped her jaw harder, a small whimperescaping Betty’s lips. Jughead tugged hard against the ropes oncemore, eliciting another low chuckle from Mr. Blossom. “I guess Icould keep you.” He looked pointedly at Betty, then over toJughead, snarling. “I can easily get rid of your dog as well. Sohow about we tell the truth, shall we?”

Betty just nodded,Jughead growled in response. Smiling, Mr. Blossom let go of her face,standing. Clasping his hands together, he began pacing once more.“Now tell me the truth. Why were you-” he pointed at Betty andJughead “-in my bedroom during Jason’s memorial?”

Betty opened hermouth, but Jughead cut her off. “We were looking for something.”Jughead didn’t elaborate further.

“What was it?”Mr. Blossom stood over Jughead, glaring.

Jughead remainedimpassive, looking down. Mr. Blossom growled, turning on his heel. Heopened the door with a loud squeak, whispering quickly to the menoutside. He appeared once again in front of Jughead, something darkin his hand. Crouching down, he asks once more. “What were youlooking for?”

Jughead grumbledagain, impossibly stubborn.

A gasp escapedBetty’s lips as the barrel of a gun was pressed against herforehead. Jughead flinched, opening his mouth to yell.

“Ah ah. Only talkif you tell me what you were looking for. Anything else, and yourdear little cheerleader will get a bullet between the eyes.”

“Juggie...”

Jughead could hearthe sobs from Betty, could practically see her whole body shakingwith terror. Panic rose quickly, rearing it’s ugly head at him.“Ok. OK!” He was struggling to breath, words coming out inbreathy pieces. “We were looking for something linking your wife tothe murder of Jason!” Jughead was shaking now too, heart racing,breathing uneven. “But we didn’t find anything!”

Clifford Blossomsmirked, “You think my wifehad something to do with Jason’s death?” He was laughinghysterically, face contorted with sick humor. “Kidsnowadays with that weird sense of humor.” He stood, pacing back andforth in the room once more. “See, we’re in a pickle now. Cause Idon’t want to hurt you, but how do I know you won’t just go tothe police after I let you go?” He was waving the gun aroundnonchalantly, looking over and Betty and Jughead once more. “So I’mjust gonna have to kill you guys.”

Bettychoked on a sob, fingers digging deep into her palm. Jughead groundhis teeth together, narrowly stopping himself from screaming at theman in front of them.

Knock knock

Sighing,Mr. Blossom turned around, opening the door. “What?!”

“Uh,boss. A Mr. Jones ishere to see you?” One of the goons said, voice raspy.

“Who?”Mr. Blossom deadpanned, looking over his shoulder at Jughead. A slygrin plastered on his face, blue eyes shining.

Agrunt from down the hall erupted, along with a series of shouting.Within the minute, FP Jones turned the corner into the small room,eyes burning. Clifford Blossom gasped, backing up quickly.

“Whatare you doing here? How did you get in here?” The older man’sface paled at the sight of several Serpents, spread out behind FP,each with a weapon in hand. Among the group was Archie, Veronica andKevin, worry filling their features. Veronica rushed over, releasingthe bounds on Betty’s wrist, then quickly pulling the ones fromJughead’s.

Jugheadstood, stalking toward Mr. Blossom, body rigid with anger. He rearedhis fist back, thrusting it forward with so much force, the wholefelt the impact, along with the god awful crunchfrom his nose being broken. Pulling his hand away, bloody and broken,Jughead just spit at his feet, turned on his heel, and walked away.

FPsmiled, facing the other man. “Well it seems here Mr.Blossom. We have a bit of-” FPlooked around, a sly grin on his face as Sheriff Keller appeared inthe room, shock evident on his face. “-video evidencethat you had something to do with Jason’s death.”

Mr.Blossom’s face paled, hands gripping the table in the corner tillhis knuckles were white. He stammered out, “I-I don’t know what…Keller are you actually listening to them?!” Sheriff Keller justpulled his hat off, sighing.

“Isaw the video Clifford.”

“You’rea monster.” Veronica chimed in, arms wrapped tightly around Betty’sstill sobbing body.

Everypair of eyes were on the older man standing in the corner, pale as aghost, blood spilling from his broken nose. Jughead stood once more,picking Betty up in his arms and heading for the door. As he nearedthe door, Betty in hand, he stopped and turned to the man whotortured them.

“Ihope you rot inprison.” Jughead spat out, glaring daggers at him.

Theclick was heard throughout the room.

Thenthe deafening sound of the gun going off.

Bang

Bang Bang

“JUGHEAD!”Betty’s voice echoed over the ringing in his ears.

Whitehot pain was flaring in his side, something sticky was on his shirt.Jughead dropped to his knees, mind going blank. A pair of hands wereon his side, people were shouting. Time stood still as he sat there.Black clouded his vision; then green. Betty. She was in front of him,her small soft hands on his face, tears were streaming down her face.He tried to reach a hand out, to touch her face, rub the tears awayand kiss her. But his arms felt like lead, his muscles ceasing tolisten. So he just leaned into her palm, a small smile playing on hislips.