#nobody knows that that's body shaming too and it makes me feel awful

[girlyliondragon]

Saw a thing on Twitter that made me feel self-conscious about my body and I'm feeling like crap rn about how I look again. x.x

The tweet wasn't BAD it was talking about people still shaming women like me who look youthful.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction to You Asking Them to be Gentle

Warnings: 18+ (Just To Be Safe), Non-Graphic Depictions of Smut, Implied Consensual Dub-Con, Dominant MW2, Jealous MW2, Slut-Shaming, Strap-On, Shock Collar, Implied Infidelity (Nobody’s Actually Cheated, it’s Just for The Bit), Age Gap (Price), Restraints, Slight Implied Dumbification, Implied Threesome, Petnames, Profanity No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Ghost

“Aw, am I hurtin’ you, Love ?” he asks, ceasing his pace for just a moment. His body is hot and thick behind you, a wall, a barrier.

When you nod, your eyes glistening with budding tears and your hands gripping the bed sheets, Simon places a hand upon your cheek. Gentle. His thumb strokes your chin, and his eyes are kind.

Until they aren’t.

They sharpen in an instant, and, without warning, he pulls back, inch by inch, and slams back in. You yelp, winded, wincing at the pain revitalising in your lower half. But he doesn’t let you flee, grabbing you by the shoulders and forcing you to take all of him.

“Should’ve thought about that before practically sitting on Johnny’s cock, you little fuckin’ whore,”

It doesn’t matter how many times you try to tell him that Soap had pulled you into his lap as a joke – a gesture of friendship, not a phallic item or intention in sight  – Ghost isn’t having any of it.

“You won’t even be able to sit down without thinkin’ of me,” he says. His eyes dark, he growls, pulling back for the killing finish. “Or I’ll just have to put the fear of God into you again,” And he slams in, harsh, unflinching, sharp. And you scream, your vision turning white as you reach your end.

König

“I know, Engel,” he says, breathless. His eyes are piercing, fire and ice. And a thin, cruel smile stretches across his face.

Before you can react, even hope to retaliate, he takes your wrists beneath his hands and pins them above your head. You writhe and you struggle, only to be met with a low moan from König.

“Don’t tempt me, Darling,” he says. “Or I won’t be able to control myself when I snap,”

You can tell by his tone that he’s not letting you off easily. Not after your ‘flirtatious’ conversation with the barista from your excursion into town earlier.

When you feel tears prick your throat, König shushes you.

“Oh, shh, Engel, it’s too late for tears now.” You swear you see his eye twitch. His body bears down on yours, scorching and heavy and impossible to fight.

He lowers his head beside your ear, and, sibilant, licks the shell.

“Besides,” he whispers. He grinds into you. Slowly. Warning.

“You wouldn’t want to encourage me now, would you ?”

Soap

“Oh no, Bonnie; the time for kindness and compassion is over,” Johnny said as he tightened his belt around your wrists, pulling it so escape was a distant dream for you. He had you caged beneath him, a smile curved with a certain brand of unscrupulousness only he could wear at his lips.

“After all, what did you say to Simon again ? That I’m ‘gentle as anything’ ?” The second you’d said it, no matter how innocent your intent, you knew you shouldn’t have. If Simon’s gaze flickering to your boyfriend, who loomed just over your shoulder, was anything to go by, you knew the end was nigh.

“Do you know,” he took your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him, making you wince. “How many people I’ve killed ?”

Your heart dropped. Soap – for this was no longer the Johnny you’d come to know and love – released a brief, almost incredulous laugh. “D’ya think they’d call me gentle ? Loving and sweet ?”

Shaking your head, you hoped that by playing along you could negate whatever was coming next. Of course, any and all efforts would be in vain.

“Well,” Soap glowered, his hand encompassing your jaw, gripping you. He ground against you, growled. “I suppose I’ll just have to give you a demonstration, won’t I ?”

Valeria

“Oh ? Gentle ?” she says. Her voice is low and dangerous – you know because you’ve accidentally seen – heard – glimpses of her interrogation tapes. You know what’s coming for you – especially when she has your face pressed against her desk, her strap-on dangerously close to penetration, though hanging just out of frame. A threat.

“Is that what you thought I was going to be when you let that slimy, arrogant prick of a bartender slobber all over you ? Practically let him bend you over the counter and fuck you raw,”

Negotiation with Valeria is impossible – something else you’d gleaned from her tapes. And denial is even worse. But admitting to what she was accusing you of would be the signature on your death warrant. And she knows she has you cornered.

You can feel her tip prodding your hole. She didn’t even bother to lubricate you or prepare you.

“Shouldn’t need to. What, with that bartender already having done that for me.”

She knows the bartender did no such thing, but feeling you cower beneath her is too euphoric for her to even comfort you.

Without warning, she slams into you, only stopping halfway when your body refuses to take more of her, her obscenely long strap-on too thick for you to even fathom as you cry out, scream, tears falling to the desk’s surface beneath you.

Price

“You think, after all you’ve done, that you deserve my mercy ?”

Price’s grip on his belt was palpable, tightening, making the leather whine and whimper in his grasp. You could feel his teeth gritting, his stare hard. His voice held a cynicism you’d scarcely heard in his tone before. Not directed towards you, anyway.

“You go and chat up another guy and you have the audacity to believe that you’re worthy of even an ounce of my sympathy ?” 

The context behind Price’s upset was all rooted in misunderstanding; he’d seen some younger, attractive guy chatting you up, and you, trying to be polite until your boyfriend returned, smiled. Which, in John’s eyes, was reciprocation. And now, you were paying the price.

“Tell you what,” he said, his stern features shifting to portray ill intent, an idea sparking in his mind. He lunged, grabbed you by your ankle and pulled you down the bed – closer to him. His belt remained gripped in his other hand.

“If you can take – say – twenty lashes, and count them – without missing a single one – I’ll think about being gentle.”

He brought his belt down on your thigh, making you cry out. “And then you can tell me all about how he’d be gentle with you – how he could unravel you like I can.” His gaze, dark with the oncoming storm, narrowed. “How he can have you like this.”

Horangi

“Is that what you said to König when he had you like this ?” Horangi hissed. He had you pinned beneath him, eyes blackened with the false conviction of your infidelity.

And, try as you might to ease his misunderstanding, to remind him that he’s the only one you love, you hear something.

The squeak of hinges, the swinging of the bedroom door opening.

You couldn’t see – think – for Horangi’s frame bolted to yours, but through the rushing of blood and Horangi’s beration, you heard a most unmistakable tone.

“Liar, liar, liar,” came König’s voice, punctuated with three broad, heavy steps. He loomed over Horangi’s shoulder, arms behind his back, the smile of deceit a tune upon his face.

A slinking, sly smile threaded Horangi’s lips as he kept his eyes on you, turning his head to address König. “I’ll see how much truth I can get out of (Y/N) first,” he said, and, like a soundtrack, the sound of König’s belt sliding from his pants lay a dark undertone – the instrument. “Then it’s your turn.”

One hand collecting your wrists, the other tearing the belt from his jeans, Horangi gave you his full, undivided attention. As did König. “Seeing as you’re so desperate for another man on the side,” said Horangi, “Let’s see how you take both of us.”

Alejandro

“Don’t lie to me, mi Corazon,” Alejandro says, ignoring your plea, one hand around your throat, the other on your thigh, grasping, groping, grabbing at your skin.

“I saw you – whispering in his ear, telling him God-knows-what,”

Alejandro is on top of you, his weight an immovable object, his stare dark and unforgiving. You can feel him sat just out of reach of your epicentre, but not out of bounds.

What he’d seen was you, smiling, whispering into Rudy’s ear about something sultry. What had actually happened was you were confirming the details of Alejandro’s surprise birthday party with him, smiling because you were so excited to get it organised.

But you couldn’t tell Alejandro that; it would ruin the surprise !

When Alejandro’s more tame efforts to get you to talk proved fruitless, he took to his preferred method of extraction.

He ground against you, letting out a low, shuttering moan.

“You can’t hide the truth from me forever,” he said, with all the conviction of one who has only ever known truth. “So if you’re not gonna tell me while you still have your faculties,” He squeezed your throat, his other hand slithering up your thighs, stopping shy of your centre and unbuckling his belt.

“I’ll just have to force it out of you. Break you down until you’re nothing but a fuck toy.” His eyes are almost black now. “My fuck toy.”

Rodolfo

“Next time you want someone gentle, why don’t you go running to Alejandro, seeing as you seem to like having him slobber over you.”

You couldn’t argue back, couldn’t defend yourself, your mouth gagged with a t-shirt Rudy had tied around your head. You couldn’t even unravel it, Rodolfo’s hands pinning yours beside your head as he pressed into you from behind.

“Hm ? Got nothing to say, mi Corazon ?” Rudy sneers. “Pity, seeing as you couldn’t shut the fuck up around your boyfriend earlier.” 

As if to drive the point home, to hit the nail on the head, he rammed into you, making you whine, the shirt soaking up your cries and your drool. Your eyes shone with tears, but you dared not cry – not around Rudy. Not while he had you at his mercy.

“You won’t stop until you have all of us wrapped around your little finger, will you.” he said. It wasn’t a question, nor did he allow you to answer as he slammed into you again. “Luckily for you, I’m a good man. One who knows how to handle injustice when he sees it.” His grip on your thighs was almost painful, and were it not for the reluctant euphoria building within you, you’d have tried to break free.

“It’s up to me to force it out of you – to erase that entitled mindset of yours.” He pulled out, forced all of himself back inside, sharp. His breath shuttered while yours choked, your scream caught in your throat. 

“Don’t worry, Ángel,” he breathed, lowering himself so his lips were to your shoulder, pressing a deceptively soft kiss there. “By the time I’m done, there won’t be a single thought left in that brain of yours apart from me.”

Graves

“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do, Whore – you lost that privilege hours ago,” Graves says, threat heavy in his voice. He stands over you, face awash with a dense egoism you know is only worn when he has decided to take his frustrations out on you.

And today is no exception.

The collar about your neck is a reminder of all that you stand to lose should you fail to comply with Graves’ vision – your freedom; made excruciatingly clear to you by the locked bedroom door behind him, the key hanging in the lock.

No matter how you try to reason with Graves, he is having none of it.

“Shh, Sweetheart, now’s not the time for tears–” he says. The threatening tone in his voice remains, only the name he calls you changes. And the more endearing they become, the closer to danger you are.

He slides open the bedside table, reaches in and withdraws a pair of silver handcuffs, clinking together with a deceptive veneer of gentile.

“If you wanna get on my good side again, you have to do exactly as I say, precisely when I say so.” He cocks his head, a slim, coy smile spreading across his face like a disease. “Y’understand, Beautiful ?”

Gaz

“Gentle, gentle – is that all you have to say for yourself ?” Gaz spat, pacing back and forth before you as he kept a keen, sharp eye on you. “After everything you’ve done tonight, you think I’ll let you off easy ?”

The ‘everything’ Gaz was referring to had been your efforts to get a reaction out of him. Bending over at inopportune times, accidentally only wearing one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers while the rest of your clothes were in the wash (or had mysteriously vanished.

And, your worst offence, sitting under his desk while he held a very important online call with Captain price. All the while, you’d poked and prodded and stroked him, tested his resolve, his patience.

And, evidently, you’d gone too far. 

With the remote to the shock collar squeezing your neck attached to the very fibres of his hand, Gaz held all the cards, your sanity the Ace of the deck.

Before you could try to defend yourself, a thin spark sent you yelping, made you jump. Your hands flew to the collar, trying to pull its rounded teeth — the conductors – from your skin.

Gaz only smiled. “Oh no, Love – I won’t be gentle,” his tone was low, a serpent in the grass, his visage matching as he lowered himself to your level, eyes aglow with a piercing darkness. “If only you’d behaved, it wouldn’t have come to this.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[themeraldee]

I don't know if you're getting sick of the body type questions, but on one of your most recent asks you said, "It's not that I think that he will be immediately attracted to a larger size. He most certainly will throw all sorts of jabs and sarcastic remarks," and hooooo boy does that fulfill some kind of pathetic fantasy in me. I was wondering if you had any little tastes of like, what that would look like? The idea of being so disgusted with a girl because she doesn't fit his idealized image and slowly melting because she just has a force-of-nature personality that sees into his soul? Sounds great, give me 20.

I'm really just wondering of like, things he would say or think as he's going through it.

Deffo not getting sick of it!!! I read this in the morning and spent the entire day thinking back to this. Still somehow I don't have the perfect answers. I gotta say snappy and clever dialogue is such a weakness of mine that whatever I think of for this probably won't flow how I want it to so excuse that pls 😂

At first he'd treat her with 0 respect, dismissing her like any other office drone whinging in his ear about something they need from him. When her post turns more permanent and she doesn't scurry away at the first sign of discomfort he pushes it further, seeing how much more she can take. It's a lot less about insulting her weight and a lot more about getting under her skin and dealing with his own issues of getting increasingly more attracted to someone with a societally less desirable body.

He looks her up and down before making comments such as:

"I didn't know Vought hired women your size."

"Whew, must be real confident to wear a dress like that."

She has heard it a thousand times, men always just try to get the upper hand, wanting to be the dominant one in the exchange. While there's no question about his power, he acts just like any other man who thinks insulting her weight will magically make her turn skinny.

At first I imagine him ogling her, unabashedly staring at her ass or tits, watching as she walks or bends over. It's less about getting his dick hard and more about the condescending superiority because he feels like he's doing her a favour as according to him, pfft, who else is gonna look at you like that?

But really he always looks forward to her nonchalant responses anytime he tried to jab at her with yet another fat-shaming joke. She so doesn't take him seriously and it's such a nice change of pace that he's hooked on their interactions.

"Cookies today, huh? Still not had enough?"

"No actually, I brought some for you. The team had too many leftover so I thought I'd share."

"Well it's not like you need anymore." He's so caught off guard by the nice gesture that he has no choice but to default to more rude remarks.

"Just eat the damn cookie." He relishes in the way she shakes her head, rolling her eyes with a tiny hint of a smile.

---

"What in the christ are you drinking now? What kind of calorie bomb is that, it smells fucking awful."

"It's literally just a matcha latte, it's actually a little bitter - want to try some?"

And it's the little remarks or acknowledgements she sends back his way that get him a little too riled up. Because she has no issues with 'standing up' to him. Oops suddenly he's ogling her for a whole different reason. Jaw clenching, head swimming with thoughts of parting her soft thighs and feeling them squeeze around his head—

Until he's the one actively seeking her company because she's a breath of fresh air and doesn't cower in front of him. And he wants her so fucking bad. She offers companionship when nobody else is willing to have an entertaining conversation. It reaally doesn't take long for him to be desperate to be held by her soft body and have her words softly whispered in his ear.

[berylcups]

Pervert Alert! Perv! Illuso x Reader

CW: Slight body shame, food fetish, disordered eating, creepy behavior, pervert behavior, masturbation, slight degradation, toys, alcohol, drugs, porn, somnophilia, MINORS DNI

Notes: FINALLY!!! It’s done 😩 it sure took FOREVER! I hope everyone likes this one . I took a lot of time on it. It’s not perfect but I did my best and that’s all I can really ask for right? Please enjoy and I apologize for the very long wait! IRL work and IRL obligations had my hands full for a bit! I finally added in some sorbet and gelato too, I hope they don’t seem like 🌈gay stereotypes 🌈 since I’m trying to develop their personalities out still. All I know is Gel is slightly fem but very unstable! Sorbet…he’s a wildcard atm. Well enough rambling! Please enjoy my drabbles!

💜Beryl

Everyone is treated equally in the hitman team at least that’s what Risotto does. Yet he did warn you due to your appearance you may be subjected to some unwanted attention and that you need to be prepared to handle it. If it got too out of hand you could always come to him to get it straightened out but you were too stubborn to ask for help and…too shy.

Let’s address the elephant in the room, out of all of the 10 people, you were the only one who had a massive chest, curves, and some chubbiness. So due to the fact, you were self conscious.

You never liked eating in front of the men, but when the entire group was together Risotto wanted everyone around to share meals with. The comradery amongst the men was strong.

You just sat there at the table picking at your salad. You were avoiding your favorite bits- the cheese and the croutons and scooting them to the side of your plate with your fork.

“Y/N. Why are you picking at your food like that?” Prosciutto asked but it sounded more like a demand.

“Oh uh… I’m just not that hungry. “ you lied. You were self conscious about your weight as you gained another pound.

“Another diet???” Formaggio butted in. “You take the media way too seriously. Nobody here gives a shit how much you eat. Eating that rabbit food though… that ain’t gonna fill you up at all.” He pointed with his fork at your salad grimacing at the excessive greenery.

“For people who don’t seem to care, you guys are paying an awful lot of attention to what I’m eating…” you grumbled while stabbing at your food.

“You can’t avoid eating all carbs and fat or else you’ll become emaciated. It’s all important in a diet as long as it’s done within reason. Now eat some gnocchi.” Prosciutto said while putting a small portion on your plate.

“Eating instant noodles and fast food in your room is what the real issue is. You need real homemade nutritious food. You’re lucky my nonna is not still alive or else she’d strap you to the chair until you ate at least thirds or fourths.” He gently chastised.

“Ugh fine… geez.” You sighed as you took a forkful of gnocchi into your mouth. For some reason you still felt self conscious…like you were being watched.

For dinner it was a little quieter tonight. Normally there’s usually 1 or 2 arguments going on at once but the usual aggressor is awfully quiet. Illuso hasn’t said a word at all tonight. He was eating quietly for once in his life but he was watching you intently. You two locked eyes and he just smirks. You quickly averted your gaze, he’s pretty unpleasant most of the time and he’s making you uncomfortable. He whispered something to Formaggio and he chuckled.

“That’s just dirty man.” He said, sneaking a look over at you.

“I’m done.” You pushed your plate to the side feeling the anxiety in your gut taking away the rest of your appetite.

“You better have room for my strawberry cake!” Gelato chirped.

“He didn’t slave over a hot oven for nothing and I know it’s your favorite!” Sorbet added.

“For fuck sakes guys… stop making me fatter.” You sighed.

“Oh hush. Quit acting like being chubby is a bad thing.” Gelato brushed off your complaint and cut you a slice.

“But you know for AFABs it’s hard to —“ you whined.

“Uh uh uh~” he cut you off by waving the cake knife at you threateningly.

“Ok ok! Jesus! You’re right! Just put the knife down please!” You panicked.

You knew better than to argue further with the most mentally unstable couple in the group and took the piece. You took a good forkful of cake and it basically melted in your mouth.

“Oh my god.” You moaned. “This tastes even better than last time. What did you do?” You eagerly asked, you completely forgot about why you were so self conscious in the first place.

“A shit ton of butter.” Gelato says proudly. “Everything's better when you put extra butter in it.”

Illuso was getting a good show tonight. Watching you lick the whipped cream off your lips was making him hard. Thank god he wore plush baggy clothing or else it would give his arousal away. He loved seeing you pick the strawberry off the top of the piece of cake and let your soft lips wrap around the plump juicy berry as you bit into it. He really wanted to feed you himself and feel you lick the juices and cream off of his fingers. You had no clue that he wanted to blow your back out, you just assumed he was being his usual dickish self.

———————————————————————

It was about 3 am and all was quiet in the base.

You usually stay up at night working on the computer researching targets for clues. Tonight though you had some free time to play some Nintendo 64. You reached for your soda can to take a sip but empty… and your stomach? It was growling for its midnight snack.

Sigh…you hated leaving the safety of your room. You never knew who you would bump into. Everyone had weird hours when they were awake asleep or just out and about. But you needed to obey your nagging belly. You really should have eaten more at dinner.

You silently as possible walked down the creaky wooden steps to the kitchen to see a figure bent down being illuminated by the fridge light. Great… you weren’t alone. You tried to turn around to go back upstairs until you heard a familiar unpleasant voice.

“Where do you think you are going, Y/N?” It was Illuso. You could hear the smugness in his voice.

“ You clearly came down here for something so come over and get it.”

You just knew that he wanted to tease you and make you feel uncomfortable like he always does. You swallowed out of nerves and walked towards the fridge as he stepped aside.

“Oh… it’s time for your midnight snack isn’t it?” He chuckled.

“Gelato knew that you had a big sweet tooth so he saved you an extra piece of cake that has your name on it . It’s alllll the way back in the fridge though if you want to get it.”

“Oh… uh, thanks. That’s exactly what I’m in the mood for.” You said shyly.

You bent over and took a long look to find your piece of cake amongst all the clutter in the fridge. There was half eaten leftovers, a milk jug, condiments, lots of beer, and rotten old food that needed to be thrown out. While you were looking you felt something hard press up against your ass.

“Illuso… some personal space would be nice.” You said trying to not get irritated. That only adds fuel to fire when you get mad at him.

“Relax… I’m just looking for the whiskey above this clusterfuck of a fridge.” dismisses your comment.

You push the milk jug to the side and you finally find your coveted cake. You move back but your ass just presses up against his crotch. Your ass was as soft as he anticipated, regardless of the size he knew it feel like heaven up against his cock. Out of reflex he slightly grinds up against you, you can definitely feel him getting hard.

“Ugh! Illuso get out from behind me you pervert!” You hiss.

“Pervert?! I’m not the one who grinded their ass on me!” He defensively.

“You’re not fooling me asshole.” You spat. “ I was trying to move out but you were still BEHIND me.”

“Geez you need to go to bed because you are acting crazy. I may be a dick but I’d never sexually harass you!” He continued gaslighting you.

You just glared at him and took your cake with you back upstairs. You hid your red face, you had a heat growing in your lower belly from that brush up. “No! That was gross! Why is my body acting up like this?! I hate him!” You thought clearly in denial.

He watched as you stormed off and smirked. He had fun touching you inappropriately like that. He only wished it lasted longer so you could feel the full extent of his hardness inside the thin material of his lounge pants.

———————————————————————

It’s rare you get any alone time. When you do you take advantage of it. You haven’t had a partner since you put your abusive ex six feet under about 2 years ago. So when you’re feeling needy you have to rely on your favorite vibrator. You locked the door and closed the blinds just in case but you forgot not everyone needs a door or a window to come in and see what you’re doing. You completely forgot about the massive vanity mirror on top of your dresser that faces directly towards your bed. If only you were able to think clearly through your lust clouded mind to know about the mirror. Who knows what else he saw? But you didn’t think about that at the time when you pulled your panties to the side and pushed the vibrator in between your slick folds and into your eager hole.

“Too impatient to take your panties off? What an eager whore you are, Y/N. I wish you’d act like that around me.” He thought as he watched from the other side. He pulled his hard cock out and stroked it to you pleasuring yourself.

He timed his strokes with how you were thrusting the toy in and out. Every time you pulled it out it made a lewd squelching noise. Your cunt was drooling for more as you thrusted it faster and turned up the speed of the vibration. A generous wet spot was forming from where your needy cunt was weeping.

“Shit… that’s perfect. Keep fucking your greedy little pussy just like that.” He panted out as rubbed the precum leaking from his tip over his cock as makeshift lube.

Your mind wanders from fantasy to fantasy , slowly getting you closer to your goal of cumming. First it started off with your crush Prosciutto doing the filthiest things to you but you were starting to have intrusive thoughts about that night you bumped into illuso…with your ass.

“Why am I thinking about that?!” You thought with frustration. “I’m trying to cum, not gross myself out!” But the thoughts continued in vivid detail.

You were trying to steer yourself back to Prosciutto but he wasn’t cutting it. Your mind went to Illuso and that night but he was fucking you in front of the fridge. This turned you on more and you thrusted the toy in and out so fast your wrist began to cramp.

“That’s a good Y/N. Fuck that pussy hard and fast for me.” He growled as he furiously stroked his leaking cock.

“Ugh…fuck. I can’t believe this is going to make me cum. Damn you Illuso…” you moaned as you chased your orgasm. “Illuso! Fuck!” You felt the shockwaves of heat intensifying from the core of your body as you came.

“?!” Y/N was masturbating to him. He couldn’t believe it.

“Y/N! Y/N!” This drove him over the edge and came thick ropes all over his hand and on the mirror.

“Just you wait till I get my hands on you Y/N. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t walk straight for a month.” He thought watching your exhausted panting figure sprawled out on the bed.

You pulled out your vibrator and examined it. It was soaking wet and dripping in your own juices. You knew it definitely needed to be cleaned after that mess but you were too exhausted to move.

“I’ll clean it when I wake up…” you thought as you drifted off into deep sleep.

———————————————————————

Things after that eye opening masturbation session got a lot worse with Illusos behavior. He was always staring you down with a cocky grin and licking his lips.

He barely gave you any personal space. At meetings he would manspread on the sofa and pat on his lap.

“Need somewhere to sit? You can always come sit in my lap, you know. I won’t bite~.” He chuckled.

You couldn’t hide the blush tinting your cheeks.

“Ugh, Illuso quit being nasty and spreading your legs. Then I’d actually have room to sit but if you’re going to be gross about it then I’d rather just stand.” You spat while grimacing. You fought back a blush.

You leaned on the back of the chair Sorbet and Gelato were sitting on. They were the only two that you knew weren’t going to bother you…at least not in the way Illuso would.

Risotto was giving out missions from the boss and if he didn’t know better you couldn’t believe he’d have the audacity to pair you up with Illuso on a mission to Milano.

“Y/N… I think it’s best if Illuso accompanies you for this mission. This target is pretty unpredictable and you’ll need some back up.” He said.

“…” you said nothing, your eye twitched. The both of them noticed this, illuso smirked trying not to laugh and Risotto raised an eyebrow.

“Did you hear me Y/N?” He regained your attention.

“Uh… yeah! Sorry.” You were startled.

“Ok good. Well this should be no longer than 3 days.” He continued. He gave more details about what you would be doing but it went one ear and out the other. You were internally panicking due to the fact you were going to be stuck with a pervert for 3 days straight…a pervert you refused to admit that you liked-by yourself.

———————————————————————

The mission was grueling but you managed to kill the target. The only downside was you couldn’t have done it without Illuso so he was feeling pretty cocky that day. Now you’re back at the hotel but it was pretty much booked. The only room left was a honeymoon suite. Fuck.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You were dumbfounded. “ There's literally no OTHER rooms?!”

“Don’t get pissy at me Y/N. Just be thankful we even got a room. All the other hotels nearby are booked too for some stupid ass event.” He grumbled.

Hopefully the room had a couch or something that you could sleep separately on…

When you get to the room it was very lavish and had a small kitchenette with a fully loaded mini bar when you first walked in and in the room was a massive king sized bed. The bathroom had a waterfall shower and jacuzzi tub. The place spared no expense for the honeymoon suites.

“Wow…” was all you could say. This was a stark contrast to what you two were used to back at base.

“You’re welcome.” Illuso said with a prideful grin as he made a beeline for the mini bar and grabbed the most expensive liquor available.

“Yeah yeah…” you brushed him off as you organized the pillows equally down the middle of the bed.

“What the hell are you doing?” He crinkled his eyebrows in confusion.

“Dividing the bed space duh. This is YOUR side and this is MINE. Go across the pillow barrier and I’m kicking you out and you’re sleeping on the floor.” You said while fluffing the pillows.

“Oh come on! That’s nowhere near enough room for me! I’m 3 times your size.” He bitched.

“Come near me in the bed and I’ll circumcise you.” You threatened making a scissoring sign with your fingers. “Now if you don’t mind I’m getting a shower. I smell like blood and sweat and it’s fucking disgusting.”

He held in crotch with an uneasy look. “Fine. Calm your tits. No need to bring my dick into this. Just don’t steal all the hot water.”

You knelt down in front of your suitcase and pulled out some pajamas, a fresh pair of underwear, and your shampoo, conditioner and body wash. “I’ll think about it… don’t drink all the booze. I want some too.”

“I’ll think about it~.”he teased, copying what you just said.

You narrowed your eyes and gave him the finger and stepped into the bathroom with your things.

He looked at the bed divided and scoffed as he sat on his side. “Like hell that’s gonna stop me.” He thought bitterly.

“I watch them all the time and they don’t even know it. Hell I could watch them right now…” he pondered as he turned on the TV. “They don’t do anything fun in the shower though and they definitely aren’t now that I’m here…” he clicked through the channels and found the premium channels.

“Oh what’s this?” He clicked through and found the cheesy ass porn channel. “Heheh. This is really bad but it’s better than nothing.”

The acting was super bad and the boobjob on the actress was faker than beachballs. Not that there’s anything wrong with fake tits…but they looked completely botched.

You finished up your shower. This was the best shower you ever had in your life! The water was nice and hot and had the right amp of pressure. It made you 100 times less grumpy than when you were coming in.

You came out to your suitcase and put your dirty clothes away.

“What are you watching?” You asked and looked up at the tv and grimaced.

“Eugh. Porn??? Really???.” You made fake gagging noises to exaggerate your disgust.

“Nothing good is on.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Besides it’s so bad it’s funny. You’re gagging sounded more realistic than that chick's gagging.”

You took a mini bottle of wine and your meds and took them in one swig. You unfolded the covers and went on to your side of the bed.

“Well I’m exhausted so I’m going to sleep now. So don’t wake me up unless our lives are in danger.” You warned him.

“Yeah yeah. Go to bed sleeping beauty. I’m staying up.” He said still watching the lewd show.

The mixture of the alcohol and medication put you into a deep sleep. He watched the rest of the porn but he was getting pretty bored with unrealistic effects. It kept his attention until he heard you softly snoring.

“Y/N?” He called out to you to gauge how deep in you were…no response.

He watched your chest rise and fall as you slept deeply. Dark thoughts were beginning to cloud his mind. It was you and him all by yourselves, with no one to interfere. He could finally bring his filthiest fantasy to life. He turned off the lights and removed his clothes.

He removed the annoying pillow barrier you put up and laid down beside you under the layers of blankets. He silently watched your peaceful expression as you slept. You looked so angelic, he couldn’t wait to corrupt you.

He lifted up your shirt to gain access to your breast. They were one of his favorite things about your body. He didn’t give 2 shits about the size, he just liked them because they were yours. He gently squeezed the soft flesh and then took a nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. As the soft peak became hard he gently grazed his teeth on it. This got a soft moan out of you only egging him on.

As he nipped and sucked on the sensitive bud his hand snaked down inside your pajama pants and petted your panty covered cunt. He rubbed between the folds and put extra pressure on the clit as he switched to the other tit and licked on it feverishly. He could feel a wet spot beginning to soak through your panties as you lightly panted.

“For someone who’s so uptight you’re pretty slutty letting me touch you like this.” He thought as he studied your changing facial features as you slept.

“You knew this was going to make you pass out. You want this don't you?” He whispered. “You wouldn’t of drank all that wine and take that medicine if you didn’t want this.” He pulled your pajama pants off and rubbed harder on your moist panty covered cunt.

“Look at how bad you want it. Your panties are getting soaked, lying whore. That’s okay because I love it when you’re a whore.” He kissed up your neck as he put his hand inside your panties and slid a finger through your slick folds.

“Mmmpth…lu…s…o..” you mumbled in your sleep.

The fact that you were thinking of him as you slept encouraged him to keep going and to escalate his behavior.

“That’s right sweetheart. I’m right here…” he purred as he nibbled on your soft earlobe. He teased your entrance with his finger. Your hips moved instinctively in response to the feeling. He chuckled and finally slipped a finger inside you.

“You’re not even awake and you’re still so demanding.” He snickered as he slowly fingered your unsatisfied cunt.

“Mmmpth…” you furrowed your brows and softly grunted out of frustration.

“Oh? 1 finger isn’t good enough for this slut? Are you really in any position to be demanding 2?” He asked with an amused tone. He gave in to your sleepy tantrum and inserted a 2nd finger into your greedy cunt.

He fingered you at a slow rough pace. Your body reacted dripping on to his hand and your face became fully flushed, as you panted harder.

“Mmmm~” you whined and turned your head to the side. You were slowly starting to wake up. You really didn’t want to, you were having the most pleasant wet dream.

“Il…lu..mmm” you whined again you slowly became aware of your surroundings as your eyes fluttered.

“Illuso..? W-what…what are you doing???” You tried to jump up but his weight kept you down on the bed.

“What do you think I’m doing Y/N? I know you want this.” He growled possessively as he brushed his fingers against your g-spot.

“Aaa~…I don’t want this!” You lied. “I hate you! You’re a selfish asshole!”

“You’re lying. Why were you saying my name in your sleep? Why were you saying my name when you were pleasuring yourself? Hmm?” He pulled his fingers out of your soaking wet cunt.

You pushed your thighs together for friction and whined from the loss of fullness. “I…I don’t know!” You lied again.

He held your thighs apart so you couldn’t get any stimulation. “You're not getting off until you're honest with me. And look me in the eyes Y/N while you tell me.” He said with a devilish smile.

Tears of frustration rolled down your cheeks. “Ok! Fine! I like you okay?! I pretend to hate you because I thought you’d never like me in the way I’d like you! Happy???” You cried out of frustration.

“See? That wasn’t so hard!” He pulled your panties down and you covered your face out of embarrassment.

“Hey now… don’t hide from me.” He chuckled, he thought your sudden shyness was cute. “I like you too, don't you know? Why do you think I tease you all the time?” He gently pulled your hands out of your face.

He leaned in and kissed and nibbled on your neck while he rubbed his cock in between your wet folds.

“Wait… I haven’t done this in a long time. Please be gentle?” You requested.

“Don’t worry I’m not going just yet… let’s just take our time.” He continued to slide his cock between your drooling cunt as he leaned down to give you a series of open mouth kisses. You reciprocated by grinding your cunt against his hard cock in time with his thrusts.

Feeling his cock brush up against your clit made you feel lightheaded from the pleasure. You wrapped your legs around his waist and slipped your tongue in his mouth. He gently sucked on it and kept rubbing his leaking cock up against your clit.

“Hah…I think I’m getting close…” you panted, drool was dribbling down the corner of your chin.

“Your body is just as impatient as you are.” He chuckled. “Hold on, I still got to fuck you first.” He kissed you once more and took a finger to wipe away the drool from your chin.

You closed your eyes and hid your face in your hands as he lined his cock up with your entrance.

“Hey now, no getting shy on me. I want you to see me split you open.” He moved your hands away and made you look down.

“Oh god…” you whined nervously, his cock was going to split you open. He was bigger than your ex and your toys. He was 8 inches uncut and very thick, very well groomed too. “Come on… there’s no way it’s gonna fit.” You panicked.

“Calm down, of course it’s gonna fit. You’re dripping wet! I’ll take it slow ok?” He rubbed your thighs in an attempt to comfort you.

“O-ok…go ahead then.”

He took his time and slowly penetrated you. There was a moderate sting but not unbearable. You watched as your fat cunt lips swallowed his massive cock.

“Ahhh…”you hissed in pain and bit your lip. He couldn’t help but groan from the tightness of your hole. “Shit…” he pushed himself all the way in. “You good?” He asked.

“Yeah…just kinda stings.” You whimpered. He settled for a minute letting you get used to the intrusion and then he pulled nearly out and thrusted back in.

“Hnng…” you groaned. You let him keep going and breathed deeply as you tried to relax your body as much as possible to ride out the pain. He kissed and nipped on your earlobe to help distract you from the pain as he thrusted slowly.

The pain stayed longer than you liked but it was fading quickly. You relaxed your muscles and felt him bury his length deeper into your sensitive cunt.

“Faster…please…”you panted.

He would have teased you about it but he was lost in your tightness and picked up the pace. You whined and panted and clinged to him digging your nails into his skin.

“Lulu~” you mewled as tears ran down your cheeks.

“That’s right sweetheart. Say my name.” He purred as he grabbed on to your waist and bounced you on his cock, thrusting as deep as he could.

“Too deep!” You whined as he brutalized your cunt.

“You can take it!” He groaned as he lifted your legs into the breeding position.

You whined as he fucked you like a rabid animal. You dragged your fingernails down his back and knew it was going to leave a nasty mark.

Your hips grinded up against his as he fucked you and he kissed you deeply and slipped his tongue into your mouth.

You sucked on his tongue and your mouths fought for dominance as you made out as you chased your climaxes.

You felt the heat in your cunt expand to the rest of your body and intensity. The knot in your belly was tightening and ready to snap.

“Fuck lulu~! I’m cumming!” You cried.

“That’s right-cum for me sweetheart!” He panted and rubbed on your clit to bring your orgasm closer.

“Illuso~!” You mewled as you clinged to him and arched your back. “Fuck!” You cried as you orgasmed.

“Y/N!” He groaned as he pulled out and came all over your chest and belly.

He rolled off of you and laid next to you holding you close.

“You know I’m covered in cum right?” You snickered.

“As long as it’s mine I don’t give a shit.” He chuckled as he reached over for a tissue off the nightstand as wiped you clean. “There. Better?”

“Much better.” You sighed contentedly as you nuzzled into his embrace. “So…now what?”

“What do you mean now what? You’re mine now. That means no more fawning over that tight ass Prosciutto.” He said rubbing on your side.

“Yeah…I know… but how are we gonna deal with the others?” You look up at him with concern.

“Heh… let’s keep the relationship between us and see how long it takes for one of us to slip up in front of the team or see if they are smart enough to catch on by themselves. I think it will be kinda funny.” He chuckled.

“Sounds like fun.” You snickered.

The team didn’t know for about 2 months… Illuso conveniently forgot that he can be seen in the mirror… All poor Ghiaccio wanted to do was to brush his teeth and in the mirror he gets a full hardcore pornographic scene of Illuso blowing your back out over the bathroom sink. Now the entire bathroom is in disarray…and frozen.

[eoieopda]

can you please write about hobi helping his gf!reader with depression? thank you so much. I love your writing style.

Did I narc on my own depressive-episode habits? Yes. Yes, I did. 🫣 Shout-out to “the chair” - you keep me together, bb.

It’d been hours since you checked your phone. Maybe days, but it didn’t matter much to you. You lost the plot of linear time a while ago.

When you finally mustered the willpower to search for your phone, it took longer than you’d ever admit to find it among the battalion of cups assembled on your nightstand. For the past few days, their numbers grew; and so did your frustration with yourself. Most of the time, you laid with your back turned to your mess so you could forget that it existed. Who needed object permanence, anyway?

It shouldn’t have been so difficult to force your body out of bed, but it was. Eating, showering, staying adequately hydrated - it all cost more than you could currently afford, and you hated feeling this broke. But you had cement in every cell, and dealing with the fog in your brain was already exhausting enough. How could you practice “self-care” if you simply couldn’t give a shit?

The only force stronger than your desire to stay in bed was the guilt you felt in wasting another second there. It was supposed to be a tool - a respite - not a tomb. So why did you keep yourself buried there?

With a groan, you pulled yourself up into a sitting position and checked the stockpile of notifications on your phone. It was a cyclone of texts you hadn’t read, missed calls, and voicemails likely asking why you’d ignored the previous two attempts at contact. Even when faced with the consequences of falling off the radar, you didn’t care to put yourself back on it. Admitting that to yourself only made you feel even worse.

Still, there was one person who was entitled to proof of life. One person whose presence recharged your battery rather than depleted it. He didn’t deserve radio silence, even if you hadn’t gone dark of your own volition. The least you could do was verify your continued presence on this mortal coil.

Hoseok was pure magic - beautiful, baffling, and effervescent. No one you’d ever met was as intuitive as he was; and nobody had the capacity to care about anything as completely and genuinely as he did. He gave you space when you wanted it and closeness when you needed it. And he could tell which of those to provide without you having to say a word - even if you couldn’t make that determination yourself.

He knew you, and that’s precisely why you felt you didn’t deserve him.

Swallowing that thought before it could tug you deeper down the rabbit hole, you dialed his number. And when you heard it ringing outside your bedroom door, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach.

Oh god.

Your apartment had turned into a depression pit over the past two weeks. Incrementally, too, like a rot had taken over in slow motion. A scourge you couldn’t bring yourself to tidy up. Even the thought of someone seeing your uncharacteristic mess made you nauseous.

This was a side of you Hoseok was permitted to know about, but not one you ever wanted him to see. It’s why you dodged the question any time he asked about moving in together. There was a difference between discussing your insecurities and having him witness the root of them firsthand. If you didn’t love yourself like this, how could he be expected to?

You kicked the blankets off your legs as quickly as you could and scrambled up to unsteady feet. Your joints weren’t prepared for any movement, let alone this frantic of a pace, but you couldn’t hide forever. Your deep, dark secret was now out on display, and you needed to get this awful confrontation over - and him out - before your shame could kill you.

He froze when you stumbled out of your bedroom and into the living room. Standing several meters away in the adjoining kitchen, he held a duster in one hand and his ringing phone in the other - eyes wide and mouth frozen into the shape of an ‘o.’ Like he’d been caught red-handed with the gun still smoking.

“I figured you were sleeping,” He stammered as he turned around to tuck the duster back into the cabinet below your kitchen sink. The look on his face screamed please don’t hate me. “I thought I had more time.”

Your brain was so shell-shocked, you couldn’t form words - you couldn’t even blink. You had no idea how long he’d been in your apartment without you noticing, but in that amount of time, he’d made it unrecognizable.

Your sink, once full of the dishes you hadn’t tended to, was both empty and spotless. The rest of your kitchen was immaculately organized as if it wasn’t just littered with recycling you kept forgetting to take to the curb, and haphazard piles of items you needed to do something with. Even more confusingly, the long to-do list on your countertop now had every line crossed out.

Your wide-eyed gaze trailed over to the living room. The last time you stepped foot in there, it looked like ground zero of some major disaster. Now, thanks to Hoseok, it looked like home again.

The armchair that previously held the majority of your belongings - the island of misfit toys - was vacant. Everything you’d abandoned there over the past two weeks had been returned to its proper place. The mountain of throw blankets had been bulldozed as well. Its disembodied remnants were either neatly folded in the designated basket, or artfully draped over the back of your couch.

He’d even untangled the knot of yarn clinging to your abandoned crochet project.

Thinking of how much time it must’ve taken him to sort this all out - and how quietly he’d had to maneuver to avoid ruining his surprise - led to an explosion of tears. It was monsoon season, and you braced yourself before the flood could carry you off, out the door.

He exclaimed in horror when he saw the way your shoulders shook, struggling to carry the weight of your sobs. You couldn’t bear to see the look on his face, so you hid behind your hands and wished yourself invisible. Accordingly, you didn’t see him race over to you. It was the suddenness of his arms wrapping tightly around you, pulling you into his chest, that alerted you to his presence.

“I’m sorry!” His rapid, repeated apologies spewed out like machine-gun fire, “I just - I know your brain isn’t cooperating with you right now, so I wanted to - and I know you’d never ask, but you- “

You dropped your hands and buried your face into his sweatshirt; praying to any god that your running nose wouldn’t ruin it. It came out as an exhale, weightless and automatic: “Thank you.”

“For cleaning? Baby, you don’t need to thank me.”

With a sniffle, you pulled away from him just enough to meet his eyes. “For loving me despite all this… mess.”

His face dropped like a brick. You could feel the slight shift in his posture, and you wanted to disappear entirely. Maybe this was one final courtesy before he washed his hands of you. After all, why wouldn’t he? Were you worth any of this?

“I don’t love you despite,” his incredulous tone corrected you, but his subsequent, petal-soft words cradled you, “I love you including.”

[magicamicitia]

Volume Two, Chapter 3

"We're supposed to be a team!"

Almost as if everyone had gotten altitude sickness, the air in the gymnasium felt desperately heavy. 

"What do you mean…?" Fluttershy’s voice trembled.

"It means," Kyubey enthusiastically shook its tail. "If your soul gem is shattered during a fight or lost in your daily life, I can't do much to assist you, but otherwise, no matter how deadly the injury, your physical bodies can be reconstructed eternally with magic!" 

"What in tarnation…" Applejack spoke up. "So you turned us into your personal scarecrows or somethin'?" 

"I suppose scare-witches would be more appropriate." He continued. "And speaking of them, I assume you now understand why collecting grief seeds is so important. It would be truly a shame if your bodies were damaged and you had no magic to spare. Besides, deadly situations like that rarely happen when you have enough power, so there's really no need to worry!"

"No need to worry?! You killed us! You killed us and then turned us into some kind of freakish reanimated magical corpses!" Rainbow Dash shouted. "I never agreed to any of this!"

"Well, maybe you should have asked." Kyubey rebutted.

"Why, you little…"

"No, we couldn’t." Twilight interrupted, finally speaking up. "I… can’t speak for the others, but when you offered me a contract, I was in no position to ask you about the specifics. You knew that, and you took advantage of it."

Her words sparked some kind of dreadful feeling in Sunset Shimmer.

One day, Twilight Sparkle was living her normal life… and the next, saving her from witches as a magical girl. It was so sudden, Sunset almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing now. 

What happened to Twilight that night that was so dangerous and so abrupt?

If she was at risk, why didn’t she ask her for help?

Did Twilight herself not fully trust Sunset yet?

That didn’t make sense. All this time, Sunset had been the one protecting her, so why…

Huh?

…What was she protecting her from, anyway?

Her head started to ache terribly, and she couldn’t help but let out a groan. 

"Oh, I'm sorry." Rainbow Dash said sarcastically. "Are we bothering Miss Shimmer with all our screaming? You got a headache? This must all be so hard on you."

"N-No, I…"

"Rainbow, stop it. This isn’t her fault." Twilight responded. 

"Isn’t her fault? She almost killed Fluttershy!" Rainbow screamed.

"I almost killed Fluttershy." She gestured at her own chest as she spoke. "Just like you, I didn’t know about any of this, and neither did Sunset. Nobody here had ill intentions. I just wanted you all to give her a chance.." 

"Why exactly would we give her a chance after stealing our things?" Rarity questioned.

"That’s what I said!" Sunset added. "Listen, Twi. They don’t like me, and they don’t have to. It’s not like I’ve done anything to deserve it."

"But you have!" She held Sunset’s hands within her own, and she could feel Twilight was trembling. "You’ve changed, I know that better than anyone! If you just had a chance to prove it… We’re supposed to be a team!"

Sunset let go of her friend. 

"No, Twi. You’re supposed to be a team. I’m not a magical girl." 

Twilight didn’t say anything, and didn’t move. She just stood there, staring wide-eyed at nothing.

This time, Pinkie spoke.

"Yeah. You aren’t a magical girl. So… maybe you should leave."

Sunset didn’t reply. As her footsteps faded away into the halls, Applejack turned to Twilight.

"You know, I just can’t understand why you insist so hard on defending that awful girl."

"She’s not awful." She replied quietly.

"She’s a bully, Twilight."

"She saved my life!" 

Her shout echoed throughout the room.

"I know… She doesn’t act the nicest, she pushed me away at first, too. But… She had her reasons! If you just try and…" 

"Reasons?!" Applejack scoffed. "I don’t give a darn tootin’ heck about her reasons, she hurt me and my friends! You know, If you're gonna keep this up, maybe…"

"I gave my life for her." professed Twilight. "When I made my wish, I gave up my soul. And I did it for her. Are you saying I died for someone I shouldn’t have?"

"I…" She started to say something, but her words failed her.

"You wished for something, too. If I told you that what you chose to die for was awful, how would you feel?"

The room went silent for a moment, until a frail voice stuttered,

"Twilight… We understand how you feel. But… We need time to forgive Sunset Shimmer."

"Fluttershy…" Twilight didn’t finish. She just gulped in her words and nodded.

Then, she mumbled another sentence.

"I’ll leave."

Nobody had told her to do so, but as she walked away, nobody asked her to stay. 

She headed to the nurse’s office. The school day was only halfway through, and even though a part of her felt tortured that she was essentially bailing on her studies, she just wanted to go home, because her heart felt heavy every second she spent in that place.

Like it poisoned her very soul.

That thought caused Twilight to jolt back to reality, and she quickly took out the soul gem in her bag.

It was much more tainted than the last time she’d checked.

Which meant she would have to go witch hunting soon.

Kyubey had left out another crucial detail about soul gems. A detail that the others didn’t seem to know, but she did.

She knew it all too well. 

What happens when your soul gem turns completely dark…

Earlier, Twilight said that she died for Sunset when she made her wish. But now, thinking about it again, that day…

If she hadn’t wished, who’s to say Sunset would have spared her, or even recognized her at all?

[katnisspeetaprim]

Privacy Part 2 Yoongi/Reader

Summary: Y/N is finding it difficult to deal with the hatred she is recieving thans to those videos.

Warnings: anxiety, swearing, slut shaming, suggestive content, female reader

Word count: 2419 M.list

‘It’s fine Mom really, I don’t need to come home.’ Your Mom had been trying to get you to travel back home ever since the news broke. You’d been trying your best to avoid her calls, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to ignore your family forever. Honestly your mother hadn’t really been much help during the whole situation in fact, Yoongi’s own mother had been much more of a comfort to you. 2 days ago just after you found out, Yoongi’s mother had called you. Apparently she had already spoken to her son but wanted to make sure that you were ok also. You locked yourself in the bathroom so Yoongi wouldn’t hear you sobbing down the phone to his Mom. He definitely heard you.

‘I’m worried Y/N. I know you said it’s being handled but that doesn’t do anything to calm me down.’

‘Worried for me or your reputation?’ You mumbled to yourself. ‘Listen Mom, me and Yoongi just want our own space right now.’ You explained, wanting nothing more than to end the conversation.

‘Ok. I’ll let you go for now but I’m still going to be calling for updates.’

‘Ok mom. Bye.’ With that the call ended. As you pulled the phone from your ear, you couldn’t help but stare at the many notifications on your home screen.

You knew that you shouldn’t be looking at your social media right now, Yoongi knew full well what the fallout would be and he didn’t want you exposed to that kind of hate.... But you couldn’t help it.The unseen force of morbid curiosity too strong, as it pushed you to open the Twitter app and see what kind of awful names you were being called.

Slut and whore were some of the most prominent insults being thrown around. Though not very creative the words still stung you. You had been with Yoongi since early 2015, 8 years together and you were being called a slut for it. You also couldn’t help but notice that nobody had anything bad to say about Yoongi, in fact he was getting nothing but praise for how he’s handled the situation so far. You’d never wish hate on the love of your life, but you couldn’t help but scoff at the double standard people online held.

The things that disgusted you the most though were the people sharing their disgusting fantasies about the videos. It made you physically sick. Why would someone feel it was ok to comment about how hot or turned on they were by somebody’s leaked sex tapes? Or feel the need to talk about different parts of your bodies like you were a science experiment?

The company had been fast to put out a statement about what was happening. Bang PD personally assured the two of you that their best lawyers had been put on the case.

The other boys had also been especially supportive. All just generally trying to be there for the two of you if you needed a shoulder to cry on, and nobody talked about the videos unless either you or Yoongi bough them up first.

Both you and Yoongi had tried to go on as normal at first, but you couldn’t shake the nagging voice at the back of your mind.

'Y/N? Tae called, asked if we’d like to go round for drinks later.’ Yoongi stepped into the bedroom just in time to see you hurrying to shut off your phone. He stared at you in disbelief.

‘You were looking again, weren’t you?’ He accused glaring at you from the doorway, though he already knew the answer. When you didn’t answer and refused to meet his gaze, he threw his hands up in the air.

‘Y/N there is a reason we were told to stay of social media. Shit like this.’ He angrily snatched your phone from you so he could see what you were looking at. He was in disbelief that you wold continue to torture yourself like this.

‘Are you going to say anything!?’ He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes when you still refused to speak.

‘Y/N I swear-‘

‘You don’t get it.’ You cut him off, voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your skirt.

‘Are you insane? Of course I get-‘ Yoongi was about to start yelling before you cut him off.

‘No you don’t Yoongi!’ You snapped, finally looking up to see his shocked face.

‘I know you are upset and scared and angry, I’m not debating that!’ You let out a shaky breath as you paused to calm down, not sure if you wanted to continue.

‘What then?’ He hesitantly made his way back over and sat on the bed next to you. You also hesitated for a moment before you sat up on your knees to face him, cupping his hands.

‘All this hate I see, all the horrible names and words...It’s all directed at me.’ Yoongi’s face softened at your words, immediately understanding your anger.

‘Ah Y/N...’ He started but you quickly cut him off.

‘It’s not that I want people to say that stuff about you...I just don’t understand why people have to be so cruel towards me . After how long we’ve been together.’ The tears started to fall once again. That’s all you seemed to be doing these days, crying. You felt pathetic for lack of a better word. Yoongi pulled you into his strong arms, trying to give you any kind of comfort he could.

‘I’m so sorry. If I could take an of this pain away then I would in a heartbeat.’

‘No I’m sorry. I’m being selfish making this about only me when you are upset too.’ You angled your head to place it in the crook of his neck. His scent  always did do wonders in calming you down.

‘Listen.’ He broke the silence. ‘I’ve been called in for a meeting today with Bang PD.’ He pulled back to look at you properly.

‘You don’t have to come but it might be good for us to both be on the same page.’ You also sat up to face him. It would definitely put your mind at ease if you could see what kind of progress had been made, though it didn’t make facing people any easier...

‘And we can go to Tae’s right after?’ You mumbled, looking at him through your eyelashes. The idea of drinks sounded pretty good right now.

‘If that’s what you want.’ He nodded eagerly at you. ‘As long as you don’t mind the other boys being there too?’

‘No. It will be good to see them.’ And you really meant it. If anyone could distract you for a few hours, its those goofy guys.

Once the two of you arrived at the BigHit offices, you were both ushered straight into Bang PD’s office.

‘Y/N it’s great to see you it’s been a while, please.’ He gestured for you to take a seat at his desk, Yoongi doing the same.

‘So I wont beat around the bush. We all know why we are here.’ Yoongi reached his hand out and placed it on your thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze.

‘Most of the sites we sent cease and desists to have co operated and removed the videos. We are still working on cracking some of them but it’s a start. Plus we have been blacklisting any online account associated with the videos.’ Both you and Yoongi were listening intently. Even though this was a small victory, you were both overjoyed that you were getting somewhere.

‘That’s good news isn’t it?’ Yoongi spoke up from beside you.

‘Yes most definitely, however.’ There always had to be a but didn’t there? Your eyebrows knotted together as you continued to listen. ‘We still don’t know how or why this happened or who is responsible. Our lawyers are in contact with the Las Vegas police, but until they have any leads , we’re in the dark I’m afraid.’ Your shoulders sagged at the news and you gripped Yoongi’s hand on your thigh tightly. There was a person out there that had the raw uncut video file of those daysyou spent in the hotel. About 4 hours in total of footage had been released so far of the two of you, but nobody knows for sure how much footage actually exists. Those cameras must have ben there for at least a week after all...

It didn’t actually hit you that a person was behind this until this very meeting. Of course in the back of your mind you knew, but you just wished people would be better.

‘Yoongi, I’m gonna wait outside if that’s ok? He sent  a worried look your way before nodding and saying that he shouldn’t be much longer.

‘Thank you for coming down Y/N. I promise we wont stop until everything is fixed.’ Bang PD  bowed his head slightly to you and you did the same before rushing from the room. You made your way back to the waiting room and plopped yourself down in the chair most out of the way. Your phone had been buzzing during the meeting.

You couldn’t stop the roll of your eyes as you read over your moms texts. She had never liked Yoongi  for reasons unknown to you. He had been nothing but respectful to your family any time you had been forced to interact with them, but she just refused to accept your relationship. You didn’t want to admit it, but you couldn’t help but think that your mother held Yoongi under some racist stereotype that she refused to let go of. It was the only thing you could think of as to why she would hate him so much.

It was only when you threatened to cut off all contact with her did she back off a little. Her last message really made your blood boil though. Of course she only cared about her own image. You knew she didn’t really care how you got effected, as long as nobody thought ill of her everything would be fine in her world.

‘Hey you ok? Yoongis steady voice pulled you from your thoughts. ‘You look upset.’

‘It’s nothing.’ You huffed out, quickly tucking away your phone. ‘It’s just my mom again. Let’s go, I’m dying for a drink.’ He sighed  to himself before following behind you.

You were able to let loose a little at Tae’s get together. The alcohol you had consumed allowing you to relax and have fun with your friends. Yoongi stayed sober that night to drive. He knew you needed the escape more than he did right now.

When you both arrived home later that night, both you and Yoongi felt like some weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

‘I had a lot of fun tonight.’ You turned to face Yoongi, placing your arms round his shoulders and flashed him a small smile.

‘I’m glad. We both needed it.’ He returned your smile. Yoongi gently placed his hands on your hips and pulled you close to him, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. You happily leaned into him, enjoying the intimacy. You and Yoongi hadn’t had sex with each other since you returned home to Korea for obvious reasons. Even though you knew it was impossible, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still being watched. That somebody had managed to break into your home and place cameras there too. This paranoia was still at the front of your mind, regardless of the alcohol in your system.

‘Let’s go to the bedroom.’ You whispered . Yoongi nodded slightly in response. Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest as you made out with Yoongi. Both of you now only in your underwear as you straddled him. His hands kneaded your ass as yours got lost in his hair. You wanted this, you really did but you couldn’t stop the panic from bubbling up to the surface.

‘We don’t have to do this you know.’ Yoongi pulled away from you when he felt you stiffen above him.

‘No I want to, it’s just...’ You were quick to answer him but trailed off, not really sure how to voice your concern.

‘I get it. You don’t need to explain.’ He spoke softly, stroking your face as he did. You gave him a sad smile as you leaned back in to kiss him.

‘I love you so much Yoongi.’

‘I love you too jagi.’ As the kiss deepened, you pulled back again, resting your forehead on his.

‘Do you mind if we turn out the lights? And get under the covers?’ You bit your lip, nervous that he would think you were being ridiculous. But the judgement didn’t come. He quickly shimmed the sheets out from beneath the two of you and draped them round your hips, before reaching out and flicking off the bed side light, submerging the two of you in darkness. The two of you shared a wonderful night together, heads full of thoughts only of one another.

The next morning, you awoke alone in the bed. It was still early so you sat up confused. You got up and dressed before making your way to the kitchen, only to find Yoongi sat in the living room. He wasn’t dressed, only wearing the boxers he had thrown on the night before. He was just staring at the wall, hard look on his face as he was deep in thought.

‘Hey... Why did you get up so early?’ You sat down next to him, pulling your knees up to your chest. ‘Yoongi?’ You tried again when he didn’t answer.

‘I got a call from one of the lawyers just now.’ You sat up straight, attention captured. You gestured for him to continue.

‘They found the person who planted the cameras.’ Your eyes widened in shock at his bluntness.

‘What!? H-how...’ You could barely talk. This was a good thing right?

‘They want us to come into the office asap for a meeting.’

‘Yes of course! Let me um, I’m just gonna make myself presentable.’ He could hear the waver in your voice as you sprang up.

‘You should get dressed too.’ He watched you practically sprint into the bedroom. He rubbed his hand across his face, stress building up. He didn’t want to get his hopes up for the meeting, just for them to be shot down.

[ninelivesastrology]

tw: sexuality, rape, grey asexuality, shaming, adultification, misogynoir, purity culture

I have some thoughts about sexuality and sexual liberation as Saturn in its return is aspecting my Venus. I stopped caring to label it some time ago. My whole life I've been shamed over bodily functions and a great deal of this has to do with sex, but I won't lie, 25 years later, I have problems with going to the bathroom. So in regards to my child's bodily functions, I am not going to shame.

But back to that, I loosely identify as grey asexual which is just me falling on a spectrum. Again, I don't really dickride labels, but demisexual is probably it.

To allow myself sexual fluidity is radical in itself since sexuality was strictly off limits for me. I'm talking abstinence only, withholding essential information about my body and dating (which led to my abusive relationships), whole nine.

I think it turns me off from the ace community when I see blatant shaming of grey asexual people and allosexuals. It's why I don't really associate with any queer community because I'm just the person people love to project onto. It's like they don't realize that attraction is something you can't control and then they look down on you for... bodily urges as if my own sexual attraction doesn't irritate me. It's like some asexuals sound like Evangelical Christians.

To make it clearer, I've had people with substance addiction issues use my body as a playground and that's not even the full extent of my sexual trauma. Can't describe what it's like to deal with being assaulted to flat out being ignored to the point someone won't even hug you and what it does to your self-esteem. I deserve normal sexual experiences. If someone wants to give that to me, if that's what my healing looks like, that's not worth shaming me over. Shame is usually a response to being triggered.

Yeah, do I get repulsed? Absolutely, that's part of the reason why I was regularly assaulted. Don't you know a rapist loves an unwilling victim? The more unwilling, the better. Even going through periods of repulsion is dysregulating because my body anticipates rape. I'm a frankly miserable person when I'm repulsed because I can't express myself. It's so nice to know I can't listen to music or talk about my feelings without feeling judged sneakily in response.

As an adult, I've been shamed for any type of seeking any type of freedom and it hits different when you're a Black girl because iykyk, the purity culture and adultification from the time you can crawl is violent... from everyone. Add romance and queerness into the equation and everyone is out for blood.

I spent a lot of time deciding what makes me feel like me and being shamed doesn't make me feel me. Shaming myself doesn't make me feel like me. Expressing my sexuality which goes hand in hand with my creativity (Venus-Saturn) is healing to me. It hits different after being diagnosed with a chronic illness, too. Nobody knows how I feel, thinking about the time lost to being with the wrong people. Fuck you. I deserve.

Since my ex fiance left, I've started dancing again. I can feel my body loosening up. Somehow I managed to shame myself into staying still and it has to be some childhood trauma. How awful it is to feel as if you can't be yourself around someone. To feel as if you can't breathe. I just want to breathe.

[thelunarsystemwrites]

Looooong ass vent

TW for: Self hate. Lots of swearing. Use of not nice words. Eating disorders, purging, self harm, suicide, rants, venting, tons of triggers, dissociation, lying, all caps, me whining, me being a bitch, mistreatment, body shaming, hateful stuff, mental illness, all that- like seriously this has more TWs than I can think of. .

I'm a jealous person. I'm sorry, it's true. I'm jealous when other people have art that gets 40, 50, more notes. I get jealous when my friends have better friends than I ever could be. I get jealous of song writers because damnit please I want to make music. I get jealous of others art,voices, bodies. I get so jealous I get mad at nothing over nothing. I get jealous at others art styles, at other success, i get jealous at my own FRIENDS wow I'm awful

I'm selfish. I'm greedy because I can't just- be fucking happy with what i do have. I can't be patient to get better at drawing, better at recording my voice, more freedom. I am never satisfied, I'm a fucking whore for any sort of love and attention and likes and reblogs. You hear me? I'm, a, whore.

And I'm fucking awful because I can't take criticism for shit, I get so fucking unhappy at it and I lie and I say I'm happy to receive it. I lie all the time like this, I'm a dishonest whore, that's worse than a normal whore! I get so bent out of shape!

And I want to make it big in the Tumblr community BUT FUCK IT BECAUSE I NEVER FOCUS ON ONE THING

M so impatient

And when I talk to my friends I-

I forget all that. I calm down, I feel... wanted.

But I'm burdening them. I'm burdening them I'm burdening them I'm I'm fucking selfish and horrible because they give and give and give and I take like a needy selfish greedy whore.

AND I DON'T SHUT UP, I'm sorry I'm sorry I never shut up

...I'm... awful. And... I shouldn't keep posting shit like this, because nobody should have to read my rambling and shit and I'm overreacting and I want to die and

Im useless irl BTW. I've been nothing but a stupid moody bitch the past two weeks, I stay up all night doing nothing and wake up at 5 pm like a useless piece of human shit that should burn in the garbage

I keep forgetting who I am, who is talking too

Im sooooooooo uselessssssssssss

Its fucking because I think my family would be happier if I didn't exist. Because that'd be one less stupid moody bitch that can't do anything and hides in their room all day that they have to deal with

Im lazy I get apathetic I have no motivation to do anything and I don't cry at sad movies like a broken robot and everything about me is wrong

And my father wanted a daughter so fucking badly, but I'm not a girl I'm nothing and he'd be so mad if I ever told him

And BTW I'm literally awful like I've run out of things I'm a jealous whore

M a whore because all tye time I think of stupid sexual stuff and then I feel disgusted I'm disgusting I barely take showers

I'm pathetic btw I never finish anything I start I have so many half assed AUs and drafts and fanfics and art and chores and needs and shit

and I sit in my room all day and play on my phone like a fucking loser. Im also really stupid btw, I don't know half the shit I'm supposed too and I can't spell shit or know history AND I HAVE THE ABILITY TO LEARN BUT IM SUCH A STUPID FUCKING BITCH I NEVER DO ANYTHING

I'm also a hypocrite because I get so snappy and shit with my siblings when they do nothing wrong except be annoying or something but when I feel justified I shouldn't because I'm still a shitty person

I barely reach out to my friends unless they text first, I'm a horrible friend that never listens I'm sorry I'm sorry I never meant to abandon anyone

And I can't take blame or accountability I'm sorry I am shit why do I keep trying to hide behind myself??

Its past 6 am,people are statving and in here venting like a bitch

I never shut up

I Bother people

i sleep in and I'm moody and I demand attention like a whore whose demanding love idfk

I never know anything, I'm rude as hell

Im sorry

and I'm protective over shit nobody cares about, I'm so damn defensive

Im sorry I'm not doing better I'm sorry I'm not improving myself. I'm so mad at myself I have so much anger at myself I direct it at innocent people I'm sorry

I HAVE NO EXCUSES, IM SO FUCKING SELF AWARE OF THIS BUT I KEEP DOING IT KM SO DAMN FHCKONG DUM IM LUTERALLY COUNTING HOW MANY WORDS OF SELF HSTE

Its justified BTW, i deserve hate

I feel like I'm lying abt being a system and artistic and depressed and anxiety like what I'd I just suddenly decided I had them?? I swear I promise I'm not faking I'm not I don't want to lie I want to be good I never meant to hurt anyone BUT I FEEL LIKE IM A FAKING BITCH

I binge food and throw it up, I hide food like a greedy pig just to purge I take others food because I'm so gluttonous and I LIE about it

and I vent and vent and vent and... and I still hate myself

I'm so fucking manipulative because anytime I talk I CSNT STOP IMSGING HOW THE CONVERSATION WILL GO, I CANT STOP TRYONG TO FUCKING GET MY WAY IRL, AHHGHGBTIDDHDH I ALEATS ACT LIKE I KNOW EVERYTHING WHEN I DONT and I purposefully annoy my siblings so they leave thr kitchen so I can binge like a fat pig, I'm a hypocrite too in every aspect. I'm toxic ok im awful

I s/h and then i forget about it so its not even a problem but I whine like it is and I want to do it so badly rn I wanna go deep

AND I RUINED MYSELF WITH UGLY SCATS they're so ugly like me inside and out

And I wanna cry and

and I'm so awful because like I get so... idk, I am. I've done shifty things, I'm a shit person. I act sweet than a condescending little bitch

and sometimes the smallest things set me off

Im jealous of everyone else

Hell I'm fucking jealous of people I've never met, I want so much so badly I'm so greedy and lustful for it and selfish

In... conclusion? The world, would, be, better, without, me

I'm useless, lazy, stupid, jealous, slutty, angry, sad, pitiful, pathetic, fat looking, no good child, moody, stereotypical, ugly, hateful, chatter box, greedy, selfish. Gluttonous, messy, dirty. I'm all the bad stuff

Dont lie, these are facts. I have so much awful in me, the world wpuld be better off without me

[feralfrey]

in hindsight it was so wild having to navigate the horror of your first periods all while going to school and functioning in society like nothing is wrong. you’re in elementary school learning basic grammar and then suddenly you’re bleeding, you’re in middle school dealing with hormones and algebra and then suddenly you’re bleeding. or maybe you got your first period in high school and everyone else seems leagues ahead of you in knowing how to handle it. blood is seeping from your body, you have to get used to the awful feeling of pads, figure out how to put a tampon in, you might be in excruciating pain, you’re moody, you’re horny, you’re hungry, it’s wet, it’s MESSY. periods are so damn messy and nobody really seemed to talk about that. a particularly heavy period can make it look like you murdered a man, and you’re stuck in a bathroom stall with bloodstained hands. the sinks suddenly feel a mile away.

it’s embarrassing, scary, and nerve-racking but you still have to go to school and spend the whole day worried you’ll bleed through your clothes, that you’ll stand up from your seat and there will be a stain of blood you can’t wipe away and everyone will see. the bleeding, the unnecessary shame, the fear that someone will find out, for a young person with a still limited life perspective the experience can be near traumatizing. AND SOME TEACHERS WOULDN’T LET THEIR STUDENTS USE THE RESTROOM. i remember panicking at school, bleeding through S+ tampons AND soaking through pads, so i would fold up a shit ton of toilet paper and stuff it into my underwear as well as an extra precaution to make it through classes. i felt so gross, until i learned that another girl was worried about bleeding through her pants so she did that too. we were just children trying to survive.

maybe you have a great relationship with your guardians and you’re able to ask a lot of questions and get answers, maybe your school’s sex/health education was actually decent, maybe there’s an older person in your life you can rely on, but maybe you don’t have anyone. how many period havers had to go through it all alone? when i had to tell my mom i started my period, all she told me was that there were pads and tampons in her bathroom and to read the instructions on the box. thanks for that mother

i’m just lying here kinda baffled rethinking all these memories. period havers are tough as nails, genuinely we deserve some praise for learning how to deal with our periods while ALSO surviving adolescence. a moment of silence for all the underwear, pants, bedding, and cushions that were devastatingly ruined along the way.

also another moment of silence for the moment you first realized how painful it was to remove a dry tampon.

[desistancejourney]

Ok so this is really interesting to me. She makes some good points, and I think the "rock in your shoe" metaphor is really clever and resonated with me a lot. And it sounds like the "rock in her shoe" was in fact gender dysphoria, I mean I don't know her so I have no reason to question that. "You just kinda assume that everyone is a little uncomfortable all the time" until you realize that they are, in fact, NOT, that is so deeply relatable to me. But here's the thing that I and I would bet other detransitioners/desisters want people to understand. The feeling that there is something very very wrong but you can't quite put your finger on it, and you can't remember not feeling that way, and you assume everyone feels that way, is NOT AT ALL EXLUSIVE TO GENDER DYSPHORIA. Now, for the record, I'm not saying that this comedian is saying that it IS exclusive to gender dysphoria, she didn't say that and I genuinely think that she's just relating her experiences. But there are people who are watching the videos she references, seeing people say "I got the rock out of my shoe by transitioning! I feel so much better now!" And there is a profound relief that they have a solution in sight, and that they no longer have to pretend they're not constantly uncomfortable. One thing that I think was actually GOOD about my former trans identity is that I finally had a way to say "something is seriously not right with me and I don't have to pretend that it's not!" and while it was damaging in other ways, I think if the options were "being trans" or suppressing and shaming that discomfort in myself, being trans was better, at least at the time. Just to be clear, ultimately I think identifying as trans was bad for me in the long run, and I didn't transition medically and I am very lucky for that and I'm not here to talk over other detransitioners who have, I'm just sharing an experience and it's a nuanced thing. There was a combination of things that caused the "rock in my shoe", like a history of bullying, being fat my whole life and feeling uncomfortable in my body because of it, some autistic traits most likely, but the biggest one was the trauma I experienced from living with emotionally manipulative and abusive parents and a severely mentally ill brother that made my childhood full of constant chaos and fear. (I also suspect there was some sexual abuse involved but that's not something I feel comfortable digging too deeply into right now in the interest of maintaining my mental stability, but I do think it's worth noting but I'm not going to elaborate any further at this time because I think the things I'm saying are enough to make the point on its own.) It gets so complicated because I truly am not saying that it's "easy" to be trans, but there are some things that are harder to face than joining the loving and supportive and validating trans community (obviously it's not always that way but you know what I mean). When I got away from abuse for the first time in my life (at age 23) I also lost my entire family and financial support and I had to start my whole life over and even now I'm still really struggling and it was almost 4 years ago. It was genuinely easier to think that what was wrong with me was gender related and that it was something to be proud of, that it was something authentic and wonderful despite the hardship, instead of what it really was, which was just awful and painful and unfair. I was in therapy but I spent 90% of it talking about my gender identity to avoid talking about anything else that was too difficult to deal with, and while my therapist was a nice person, she didn't challenge me on any of it. I don't know how receptive I would have been at the time, but I needed help I wasn't getting. I understand why people say "nobody would choose to be trans" but there ARE reasons why someone would choose that (even unconsciously) because we thought it was better than the alternative. Detransitioners and desisted people are proof of this.

[varianthetarnished]

I... have a confession to make. And I feel that maybe if I write it out I'll feel better about it. Maybe.

When I was a small child, I always wanted to do what the boys my age did. I wanted to play rough and play with "boy toys" like swords and action figures and play in the dirt. I never liked the idea of playing with dolls or dressing up in frilly things or wear a dress. I wanted to be in the boy scouts so badly but because I was a girl I was told I couldn't. Only boys can be a boy scout. I wanted to wear the cool uniforms and wear a bandana and go out in the woods and learn archery and knot tying. I didn't wanna sit and braid hair and sell gross girl scout cookies. I was brutally bullied and picked on for nearly everything. The clothes I wore weren't girly enough, I didn't play with the girls I wanted to play with the boys. I was confused as to why I wasn't allowed to do certain things or see certain things or wear certain things. I was just trying to be myself. I rarely saw myself relating to female characters in disney movies. While other little girls liked Ariel I wanted to be prince Eric.

I was always told growing up that I needed to act like a girl because that's what I was born as. I was yelled at by my mother so much growing up as she forced it into my head that I was supposed to be a girl and like boys.

When it came time for school to show the dreaded puberty video and send sample and information packets home I cringed. I was struck by fear of knowing that a period would mean I could have children. I hated the thought of growing breasts upon my chest.

I tried to hide the take home packet but my family caught me trying to hide it the same night and began to tease me about it all. I begged them to stop and cried telling them I didn't want any of it to happen. To the point I ran to my room and locked myself in for the rest of the night and cried myself to sleep.

Eventually growing up caught up to me and changes began. I tried so hard to continue to have a flat chest that I only wore sports bras hoping, praying that they would stop growing. They didn't. My mother constantly pointed out how big my chest was getting and that I needed to start wearing a normal bra to support them. I knew a normal bra would make me appear more feminine and I hated that thought. I began wearing a regular bra anyways to appease my mother. Still wearing larger clothes to try and hide them as much as possible. Still nagging me about my wardrobe choices, constantly telling me that I was a girl and needed to act like one and girls like boys and having long hair and make up and painting nails.

I didn't wear makeup or paint my nails. High school came all too quickly and I thought maybe since everyone is telling me I should like boys and try to be more girly I would try. And although I began to do a few things here and there in a more feminine manner I still felt wrong deep inside me.

With the changes in my chest and more womanly figure that was constantly brought up by my mother I found it harder to conceal my body. This of course brought on very much unwanted attention from men and I really didn't like how small it's always made me feel.

I cut my hair short for the first time and felt amazing! My mother threw a fit and cried shaming me and saying I looked like a boy and that nobody would like me looking this way. That I was going against God and what was in the Bible. Although I've never been very religious I felt awful for disappointing her so I grew it back out.

I dated a guy in high school and that didn't last very long. Was questioned a lot if I was bisexual or gay during the relationship and I denied every prying question. I thought I was straight. I was a girl, and girls like boys.

I began being curious about girls however in a dating sense and even had a small crush on one of my friends. I never told her and I quickly snuffed out the thought.

Began dating my second boyfriend after high school and we dated for 5 years. At some point I began to realize I didn't like feeling vulnerable and beneath a man.

Now I am dating and engaged to a more female presenting partner. And they have been extremely supportive in everything.

I feel comfortable around them and am finally exploring these things about myself I was never able to explore before. I'm in a safe and loving relationship.

What I'm saying friends, is I might dip my toes into a realm of gender identity I've never been able to explore before. I strongly believe that had I had the option and support system to transition FTM as a child I 100% would have. However... now that I am 27 and have experienced life as a female I have grown to share a strange love hate relationship with my body. But, that being said, I still dislike a lot of things about my body that it makes me feel uncomfortable most of the time. I have found I dislike being called "ma'am" most of the time. She/her pronouns are becoming increasingly hard for me although on some occasions I don't mind.

I've discovered that if I am to look feminine I want to feel strong and confident and have an appearance that nobody wants to tangle with. For lack of better terms, I want to look feminine in a strong way. Not feel vulnerable. The only time I want to feel vulnerable, is with my fiance most of the time in intimate spaces.

My wardrobe still to this day consists of t-shirts and jeans. I constantly battle with my appearance especially with my hair. That has been one of the biggest struggles. I hate having boobs 90% of the time and will try to hide them still. Although I haven't tried a binder yet I am almost half afraid to because I'm afraid I suppose of my reaction although I feel I already know what it will be.

I've always fought with how my voice sounds and always wanted a deeper register. And though voice exercises and therapy help, it won't have the same effect like if I was to go on Testosterone.

Although testosterone therapy would very much help in areas I feel uncomfortable, such as voice changes, fat redistribution, and maybe a bit of bottom growth, potentially less periods or none at all, something that makes me hesitant is facial hair.

Yeah, I could shave. I guess I worry about other people even though it's not their body, it's mine. It's what makes me most hesitant in that department.

For now, I like exploring the Non-binary spectrum and of course that intertwines with Trans as well. But I think I need to do more soul searching and test the waters before and if I decide to make any decisions such as T or Top Surgery. (I'm really not too concerned about bottom Surgery)

I don't know. This is a looooong post and it's late and this is all just things that are storming around in my brain lately.

I just want to know the person who looks back at me in the mirror. Because right now they look like a familiar stranger almost. I'm getting closer to who I want to be and what I'm comfortable with. I'm not quite there tho.

We shall see...

[sasurvivorsupport]

I have only spent three years in the online sexual abuse survivor community, because I was unaware of most of the sexual abuse, and what I was aware of, I didn't experience as traumatizing. I only joined online CSA survivor communities when I was 19, a year after I found out I was sexually abused younger than I originally thought- as early as 2 or 3. I wish I could say the online CSA survivor community helped me heal, but unfortunately it made my mental health worse. I observed some awful, low shit happen in the community of what's supposed to be survivors helping each other out. I'll make a complete list of everything I witnessed and endured in the online CSA survivor community: (note: this is NOT victim blaming. CSA survivors arent automatically perfect angels just because they were victimized- anyone can be toxic regardless of trauma history or lack thereof.)

Slut shaming other survivors. I mostly saw this from female CSA or rape survivors who's abuser was male and are asexual, sex repulsed, or lesbian as a result. They would go after CSA survivors who were hypersexual, straight, posting thirst traps, in the sex industry, or enjoyed the SA. All of these are typical responses to CSA. Hypersexuality is one of the most common responses to CSA, and most sex workers, including pornstars, are CSA survivors. These female sex repulsed survivors who slut shame other hypersexual survivors are exclusionists- they invalidate real CSA survivors and spread the inaccurate stereotype we've had for decades: "Sexual abuse/assault/rape survivors can only be females sexually abused/assaulted/raped by men, asexual, sex repulsed or lesbian because of the trauma, hate sex and dress modest, and men can't be sexually abused. Also sexual abuse is always aversive and never enjoyable." None of that was based in facts. First, males get sexually abused just as much as females, its a real statistic that gets brushed under the rug. Its not as common for CSA survivors to be asexual because of the trauma. And neither is being lesbian. Females can sexually abuse, assault and rape other females and males. The last statement is the most problematic. Sexual abuse is most often enjoyable, it doesn't feel like abuse. The body is designed to like sex. Its a normal reaction. A kid who gets sexually touched doesn't know their body is being violated, they cant understand things like that yet. Saying that you're supposed to feel violated and traumatized when you don't, saying "your body was violated! you're supposed to feel violated!" leads to shame. I only felt violated after finding out I was supposed to. I enjoyed the SA and didn't even know I was being violated. This is the main reason why the online CSA survivor community hurt me so much. I would receive hate anons calling me a slut and telling me to get "raped for real and traumatized by it." I believed that and I self harmed for two years believing that, until I was self conscious about my arms and legs. Feeling like I wasn't valid, wasn't abused and was just a slut mentally destroyed me and left me with more trauma than the SA. Because other survivors online traumatized me and not the SA, I thought they were right and invalidated myself. This is why I started this blog. To bring validation to invalidated SA survivors.

Invalidating male survivors. I saw many radfems doing this. They would say all men are bad, all men are predators. That's not true at all. Males get sexually abused, assaulted and raped just as much as females. They're just seen as wimpy and weak when they come out as survivors because being sexually abused/assaulted and raped isnt seen as macho. Males are demonized by society and that's another reason males are seen as "always predators." Radfems are toxic, and honestly society is toxic. Misandry is just as bad as misogyny. Nobody should be discriminated against or seen as inherently bad because of their gender at birth or gender identity. Males can be sexually abused, assaulted and raped too, and females are sometimes the predators.

Not talking about COCSA. Its common and never gets any recognition. Us COCSA survivors feel like its some rare occurrence because there's too much attention put on the female survivors of men. Children can sexually abuse other children. It happened to me. Kids get exposed to sexual content through magazines, advertisements, parents who watch porn around the child, and the child could've been sexually abused by an adult before they reenacted the abuse on another child. COCSA is still a valid form of sexual abuse and survivors deserve to feel valid and recognized.

Kink shaming. Kinks are often from sexual abuse. I already mentioned how some survivors slut shame other survivors. This is a part of that. Having kinks doesn't make you a perv, slut or anything else anyone calls you. It doesn't invalidate the sexual abuse you suffered. Everyone is affected differently and every way is valid.

If this was too long to read, my point is the online SA survivor community mentally damaged me because of stereotypes, shaming and people who couldn't handle what happened to them so they inflicted pain on other people online. Social media is a very dark place with a lot of hate and invalidation. Not every survivor acts this way but i was surrounded by them, even friends with one for years and struggled to end the friendship but thats for my next post. Also ik I'm gonna get hate comments so if you plan on posting harassment in the comments just leave.

[sadistic-softie]

I'm going to break again. (READ TAGS)

The intrusive thoughts have returned. The dark ones. The ones that drove me to hysterical breakdown and got me in that stupid crazy person house with kids that likes crushing little rodents. I don't wanna go back. That place makes me sick. Same meals every day. Maybe I can handle the thoughts this time. Last time, I was only 13, so I might do better this time? All I can do now is what I used to do to cope. Write them out. Get them out of my head so I don't have to think about them anymore. This might delay or even prevent a break. Who knows?

These nightmares and memories are getting to me. Bad. I can't get the trauma out of my head. It won't stop it won't leave me alone. I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind. I haven't even been able to watch TV anymore because my head is so crowded. I just sit outside sometimes. Sit in the cold. I've been wearing my comfort hat all the time now. I hate taking it off. I can't keep my thoughts straight.

The nightmares. They make me tear at my skin more often than usual. It don't mean to, but I can't stop. Dermatillomania getting worse. I've eaten so much of my own scabs, skin, and blood lately. I've done that sort of thing for years already, but ever since I've started having those nightmares, it's like I crave it. I do it more. I like it. I want to taste my own blood, and it tastes really good. I've also started pulling out my body hair?? I don't know why I'm doing this. It's like I NEED to. Dermatillomania is related to OCD, right? That was my Dx. That's probably why. OCD getting worse.

I'm probably less stable than I think I am. I don't know. So much doubt. I feel 13 again. I need to do something, but I don't know what. I'm really unsure of myself. I somehow feel like I'm in danger of...my dreams?? Like, I feel like sleeping is dangerous, because every time I sleep, I get worse. I know how that sounds, but I'm serious. I feel like they're killing me metally. That's stupid. I don't even know what I'm saying. I've always been so stupid. Useless. Gross. I'm just paranoid. That's probably it. Parania getting worse. The nightmares.

So now what's my plan? I need to have a plan. Stability. I'm gonna keep following my therapists advice for now. Write it out. Get it out of my head. So, here goes nothing. But, if you're reading this, I'm warning you that it's some heavy shit and I don't condone nor wish to act on these thoughts. Plan, stabalize, write, heal.

Here it is. I just needed to get these awful, disgusting thoughts out of my head so I don't have to think them again. PLEASE remember the previous paragraph. these thoughts I carry are a weight on me. It gets worse the more you read. I feel so fucking horrible and sick thinking that they're mine. I carry so much shame, but I just don't wanna feel alone, and I can't bear to share this with anyone I see in person:

I have been eating the same thing every day. I eat other things too, but, I always have this one specific thing at least once a day. an apple with peanutbutter as dip. Every day. Apple with peanutbutter. Apple with peanutbutter. Apple with peanutbutter. And every time I cut the apple, I open this drawer. This drawer is full of knifes. Knifes of all kinds of shapes and sizes. Kitchen knifes. Serrated knives, big knives, little knives, a cheese knife, a filleting knife, a butcher knife, bread knife, boning knife, peeling knife, mezzaluna, etc...pretty much any knife you could find in a kitchen. I love holding them. Especially the butcher knife.

The way that I feel when I hold a knife with weight to it it just...indescribable. I feel like it belongs in my hand. I feel a sense of power that I've never felt before. Being knocked over and kicked while I'm down over and over for my whole life, to end up with this steel beauty in my hands and nobody elses. It's like it's begging for my to do something I don't want to. I get the urge to cut off my own hand. Just fucking slam that heavy steel rectangle right down onto my wrist for no reason other than that I can. That I have the power to do that. To cut off my own fucking hand.

And I've thought of just cutting myself. Just to drink my blood. Why wait for the dermatillomania to get to me? When I can just cut myself open and lick up all that thick, metallic liquid. The taste is so potent. So fucking delicious. And I'm afraid to admit it. I hate that it tastes so fucking good. I hate that if I could drink my own blood with no consequence, that I wouldn't hesitate. When I was seven, I used to knaw on my own arm. I gave myself hickeys trying to break the skin. Stupid weak child giving into curiosity. Did I not once consider the consequence of biting off a chunk of my own arm?

Why was I always such a gross freak? A seven year old child attempting autocannibalism? I didn't even know that word yet I was so young. No wonder people didn't wanna be my friend. I was a freak. What made me want to do that when I was so young and uncorrupt by trauma? I'm older now...I could break the skin now if I really wanted to. I could draw so much blood. I could test every knife on myself, cut out parts of me and eat them. Just like I've always wanted. My sickest childhood dream. One I never shared to anyone. The one that comes with so much shame. Shame on top of shame on top of shame.

What kind of sick freak wants to eat a part of themself?? What kind of freak thinks about mutilating the ones they love the most? Am I a monster?? My therapists all said I'm not. So many of them...regardless, I still feel horrible about it. I have thought about pushing a knife into, torturing, dismembering, disecting my loved ones. several of them. Several times. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT MAKES ME WANT TO KILL MYSELF?? Maybe I deserve it. I should brutalize myself. See how I would 'like' it! But knowing me, I would probaly try to drink my blood while I writhe in agony. Fucking freak. Gross freak.

Don't be fucking gross? You tell me not to be gross when you catch me having a piss accident?? Everyone pees themselves every now and then. Accidents happen. You know what? YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT GROSS!!! I have cut every part of you into little chunks by hand in my mind. Every muscle, tendon, organ, etc...In my head, I have tortured my best friends brutally. In ways i can't even describe without my stomach twisting. THAT is what's gross. I hate it.

I CAN'T FUCKING STAND THE WAY YOU LOOK AT ME LIKE I'M SOME PATHETIC, INJURED ANIMAL YOU PULLED OFF THE SIDE OF THE FUCKING ROAD!! THAT SHIT MAKES ME WANNA RIP MY SKIN OFF!!! WHY DON'T WE ALL KILL OURSELVES???!!! I wanna burn a house down. I wanna destroy everything! I want someone to try and kill me so I don't take the blame for fucking stabbing them in the shin. I JUST WANNA BE IN FUCKING CONTROL FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE!!! FOR ONCE IN MY FUCKING LIFE, I DON'T WANA BE THE GOD DAMNED POWERLESS VICTIM!!!

[rotfallen]

I have decided to post the analysis here. The song is It Should've Been Me by Riproducer ft. SOLARIA.

I am dropping this below the cut as it gets long. Ask me to tag it because I'm not sure what to tag it with lol.

Let’s start with the first verse:

[ Not too loud

Not too quiet

Don’t be proud

Don’t be shy 

It’s rude to stare

Oh, do I dare?

Keep it bold

Don’t be timid

Not too slow

Make it quick 

It’s so unfair

I’m almost there ]

In my eyes, this is what she’s learned from the books she’s read. After all, reading is where she gets most of her information anyways. She also feels like she’s lacking because she isn’t seen as a “woman” in most people’s eyes because her body stopped growing at a young age.

Let’s continue into the first pre-chorus:

[ Lost in a fantasy

My very own pandora’s box

Swarmed by my jealousy

I hope that it doesn’t show

Ire dipped in flattery

Nobody’s been as close as me

I spilled my guts

And all for what? ]

Here we have Sharon trying very hard to hide her jealousy when Break spends his time with other people as opposed to her. She feels like she’s being left behind or abandoned by him, but she keeps her feelings hidden under a kind smile. She feels like all she’s done for him is pointless if he won’t see that she’s right there.

Now for the first chorus:

[ It should’ve been me

You should have picked me from the start

And after everything I’ve done for you

You don’t think it’s bizarre?

It should’ve been me

Where do you think I got my spark?

I chiseled down my personality

'Til it's a work of art ]

Sharon is willing to do anything to be noticed by Break, including chiseling down her own personality to make herself likable in his eyes. And yet he still won’t look her way.

Second verse:

[ There you are

Can’t they see it?

I’m in awe

Could it be?

“It’s rude to stare”

Yes, I’m aware!

What a sight

Nearly perfect

You alright?

Does it hurt?

I will be there

You know I care! ]

Sharon cares for Break. She hates it when he gets hurt, and states constantly that she’ll be by his side no matter what. And yet, due to his fear of attachment, he pushes her aside. Which makes Sharon angry. She doesn’t understand it. She never has.

Second pre-chorus:

[ Caught in my fantasies

Don’t look inside pandora’s box

Push down the jealousy

No, nobody needs to know

Please don’t think less of me!

I’m but a lonely soul, you see

Oh, what a shame

I’ve gone insane ]

Sharon has driven herself crazy trying to get Break to realize her feelings for him. In her eyes, he’s just stupid and oblivious, and thinks that she just has to try harder (at the cost of her own sanity and self-worth). She keeps pushing down the jealousy more and more.

Second chorus time:

[ It should’ve been me

I oughta be there by your side

Just think of all the possibilities that we could bring to life

It should’ve been me

I think I need you to survive

So now it’s your responsibility to make me stay alive ]

She feels like she has to be by Break’s side, no matter what. And ever since he became her retainer, she has been the one by his side. She feels like she won’t survive without him, and starts to think that her life is his responsibility.

Let’s move on to the bridge/final pre-chorus:

[ Trapped in this travesty

You’ve opened up pandora’s box

Struck by reality

It’s time to wrap up the show

Yes, it is how it seems

I’m full of animosity

And here I am

Where do you stand? ]

Sharon is finally done holding back her feelings. She blows up on him, finally letting out how she truly feels straight to his face. She’s done bottling up her jealousy.

And finally, the chorus, which is broken up:

[ It could’ve been me

Although I’m better than the rest

My polarizing rationality just couldn’t pass the test

It could’ve been me

But I’m unsure of my intent

Surely my fragile hospitality would shatter from the stress! ]

This part is Sharon giving up on trying anymore. She realizes that maybe it wasn’t for the best, and is dealing with the aftermath of that realization. She thinks that maybe her intentions weren’t the best ones after all.

[ It shouldn’t be me

And here I thought I was above

But now it’s clear to me you saw that I’m unworthy of your love

It shouldn’t be me

And I’m okay with that because I truly only want the best for you 

And I am not the one ]

Sharon admits that she only wants the best for Break, and that she isn’t the woman that will give him that happiness. It takes her a while to get over it and shake those feelings away, but she does.

She also feels that she’s “unworthy” of his love, as stated in the lyrics quite literally.

[unknownjpegs]

grit

Dust in the air. 

Always dust in the air, Benji thinks, always fuckin’ dust. Hate this pit.

He turns his chin to the side and spits. Out comes dust. Just not all of it. He can feel how the grit sticks in his teeth, scratches at his gums. A small inconvenience out here, where bodies are plucked clear and stark-white by the beasties, where men are shot over near-nothing.

Where Benji does quite a lot of that shooting.

Dust in his eyes, his teeth. Whipping around him. As he stares down one of those poor fucks trapped beneath him.

Cowardly fuckin’ thing. Gone and run, near face-planted in the dirt, when he’d seen Benji after him on the horizon. Shot blind over his shoulder. Nearly nicked Benji’s mare, and that was a bad, bad thing. Mistake, but not the first of his transgressions in the last week.

That, and thinkin’ of his horse getting hurt, riles the anger in him. Like it’s just provoked the feral creature that makes home in his chest. 

Anger, well. He’s got a lot of that these days. Been trying to smother the fire of it with dust, but it keeps just licking higher and higher. Always dust in the air, and yet never enough.

Especially when his patience gets low. It’s low, right now. 

Because the guy below him, the pathetic sonofabitch, is kicking something awful. Trying to buck him off.

Might’ve had him a victory in that, ten years ago. ‘Cuz then, Benji was a weak kid — moveable. Prone to sickness and injury. Small. 

He’s not small no more. And he ain’t been a kid for a decade. Hasn’t felt like one for longer than. 

“Get’the fuck off,” the prick below him hisses. Saliva coming from between his teeth. Dust and grit just like Benji’s. Nobody out here has a clean mouth, if they ain’t got the coin. Sometimes if they do, ‘cuz if there’s one thing filthier than the mouths, it’s the hands. 

Dust in the air, blood on the palms.

Anyway, the dust-saliva lands on Benji’s jacket. Which is a right shame for the fucker, because this jacket was a gift. Expensive one and from one of his favorite people — perhaps only one he got, out here. Benji’s a protective guy. Loyal. He takes just as good care of his jacket. And that routine does not, unfortunately, include gettin’ shined with the spit of white-bellied arse grabber who sports a wispy, thinning hairline. 

“You been fuckin’ with Dr. Sullivan,” Benji says. He sits up from his heels, full weight down on the knee that digs into the man’s chest. Real sensitive spot, right at the apex of his sternum. Bet it hurts something awful, ‘cuz he lets out a good howl. 

“Worse,” he whispers, slipping the revolver from his hip and tucking it under the man’s chin. Fluid motion; Benji’s a big guy, real brutal up close, but he’s also a fast draw. Has to be, the way people seem eager on the trigger with it pointed at Bunny. 

“You been fuckin’ with her pockets. Me n’everybody smart in this town know if there’s one thing you don’t wanna do, it’s fuck with the good doc’s pockets.” Benji thumbs back the hammer, cl-click in his ears. Sometimes, he thinks that noise is prettier than the cactus wrens. Thinks maybe he oughta consider gettin’ evaluated for that. 

“You mustn’t be one of those smart folks.”

“I haven’t —”

Benji shoves the revolver hard up under his chin. Angles the muzzle where it presses a divot into the skin, and then adjusts his fingers on the grip slow. His knuckles ache. Last night, he’d walloped a guy good. No reason other than Bunny asked him to, and he tended to trust her judgment when it came to wankers who needed teeth gone. 

“You have though, haven’t you, mate?” Benji sneers, peering down at the fucker — the liar, now, too — through the strands that dangle from his hat’s brim. “When you’re gone, and I loot ya, am I gonna find loads of Dr. Sullivan’s actual?” The man gulps. “Yeah, s’what I thought. Have a feelin’ I might find more than that.” Benji’s hand is started to shake on the grip, so he takes a big, steadying breath. 

Tastes more dust. Gets madder. 

“Hear you’re a pervert, friend.” He jerks his chin towards the man’s bag, where he’d tossed it several yards away in their scuffle. “Hear your balmy fuckin’ arse has been awful handsy. ‘Specially when you get drunk. Y’know what the big boss hates more in her saloon than liars, thieves, and drunks who ain’t got enough stomach to hold it?” Benji smiles. “She hates a pervert. Loves makin’ ‘em dead.” 

“Wait —”

“So do I, if I’m honest.”

Benji pulls the trigger. Spray of blood kicks up in a misty cloud around his face, disappears on the next gust of wind. Brings fucking dust.

As expected, body’s got cash. Good chunk of it, all from Bunny. All from a job he’d promised to make good on. Idiot shoulda figured he wouldn’t make it too far outta town. And, tucked alongside the stack, is a list of names. Buncha women. Benji notes Miss Rhodes and her daughter amongst ‘em. Couple of the listed individuals aren’t, he knows, much older than fourteen.

Rot, he sneers, and gives the body a solid kick. For Bunny, ‘cuz she’ll hate hearing about this. Would have him raise the man from the dead, were he capable of such things, just to let her drop him herself.

Once he’s done sifting through pockets, Benji pulls the man’s boots off and tucks them under his arm. Good spurs that’ll get him some coin of his own to pocket. He’s saving. 

Benji tilts his head up to the sun. Already climbing high. Warm on his shoulders: means it’s time to get moving. He doesn’t wanna end up baking. Doesn’t wanna, like this dickhead, be plucked clear and stark-white by beasties. 

*

“Busy morning?” Bunny quips when he turns up.

“Mornin’, afternoon, evenin’,” Benji grunts. He slips behind the counter, sidling up close to her and snatching a glass from the clean pile. He gets a towel snap for the trouble, accepts the sting on the back of his hand. Worth it to fill up with something refreshing. 

After he’s polished off a bit of the tap — taste test, he snarks, earns another smack — he leans against the counter. 

“Cheek,” Bunny says. She points at her face, and Benji responds by swiping at his own. “No, you fool fuckin’ — wrong side. Come here.” 

Bunny ain’t often soft. In her nature like chewin’ cud’s for a cougar. He knows it, accepts that he’s as likely to get a swat as he is a begrudging thank you. But she don’t know what he’s gone and done, in the early hours. So there’s nothing to thank, as much as he’d like to hear it. Like the acknowledgment. Shouldn’t look at Bunny like she’s a parent, but he does anyway. Been together, Benji’s homesick enough, for that to be an inevitable.

Except some of that bitterness fades out of him. Because Bunny’s got her own way of doin’ things. Quick and clever and venomous, their local rattlesnake. Ready to last out, need be — and Bunny’s good at finding need. But Bunny’s got an eye for need of all sorts. Think maybe he’s not the only one homesick, or maybe she just sees the need splattered obvious as the blood across his face.

She wipes at his cheek with her sleeve. Ah, been the wrong side, he realizes, when he sees the red stain smeared across the fabric at her wrist.

“Can’t have you looking like a mess in my fine establishment.” 

It’s the softest Bunny is capable of, that. Also a right fuckin’ lie, because it’s not a fine establishment. It’s a shit one. And Beni’s often a mess in it. He’s the poor sod’s gotta drag the saloon-fight, bounty-collected bodies out by the boots on a near nightly basis. 

“There we are.” She pats him on that same cheek. Not quite gentle, but also not her usual sweet disdain.

Kinda ruins the moment when she holds out her hand. Benji sighs. Slips the stack from his jacket to her greedy, waiting palm. 

“Ahh,” Bunny wafts it under her nose, fanning the bills. “You smell that, Benj?”

“Blood,” he mutters, going for another pour. “Dust? Pervert sweat n’piss? 

Bunny winks at him, tucks the stack into her shirt. 

“No, my dear friend. That’s the scent of justice.”

His throat, proper wetted and grit expelled, bobs. 

“Smells like shit.”