#she’s been objectified her whole life

[fluffydice]

One big difference between Aiura and Teruhashi is that I think Aiura could be comfortable either sitting on someone’s lap or having someone sit on her lap, but Teruhashi deep down would only feel 100% at ease if someone was sitting in hers, not the other way around

[holytrickster]

also I really want to make haunting ground fan dragons now (except really only of fiona and daniella tbh because as creepy as the other stalkers are in the game i just don't like them enough to bother) except idk how I would put purple hair on an fr dragon lol

[ssahotchnerr]

okay so, I really don't like angst so I'll go with jealous!Hotch 🤭

Something like when Reader is at Jack's soccer game and Idk, a dad flirts with her? But when Jack sees that she's talking with someone who isn't Hotch, he calls her "mom" in front of the dad who's flirting with her, (bc he's jealous too 🤭) but Hotch hears him and he's kind of moved, but someone is flirting with his girl so he gets all jealous and starts like kissing her or something in front of the man? And the night they end up at his home, with Hotch showing her that she belongs to him 🤭

(feel free to change anything, don't worry, also, sorry for my bad english, it's not my first language 😭)

keeping score

🤭 minors dni cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, unwanted advances, suggestiveness, allusions to sex, small praise, dominant!jealous!possessive aaron 🦋 wc; 1.5k

early saturday mornings - grass still slightly wet from the dew, the sun slowly rising higher into the sky (threatening a hot day), sat alongside a soccer field - you couldn't imagine another place you'd rather be.

as aaron was the coach, you spent majority of jack's game sitting alone. it was a small price to pay; you were more than happy to cheer on jack from the sidelines, and to check aaron out as much as you wanted.

but most importantly, attending his games made you feel like you were a part of the family. the hotchners were closed off and let very few people in, and so your attendance here only solidified your role in both their lives. that aaron planned on keeping you around, and that jack trusted you. your role in his life wasn't to someday replace his mom, but rather you were just another person who simply loved him. you loved him like he was your own, and he knew it.

"mornin'," a voice pulled you from your thoughts; a familiar face amongst the other parents on the team, but you didn't know him by name.

you offered a quick, friendly smile, "good morning."

he set up camp near you, setting his foldable chair down and getting settled a few feet away. you paid him no mind, resuming your attention to something more worthy of your focus, such as how attractive aaron looked in the jeans he was wearing. and the game, obviously.

however, you could feel him peering at you from time to time, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

ten minutes or so passed before he spoke again, "so, big soccer fan?"

your eyes followed jack, who was dribbling the soccer ball down the field. your heart swelled with pride as he successfully kicked it to a teammate, "not until recently."

"me too." he offered you a look that he probably thought was slick, while you kept your gaze straight forward. "i'm always looking to score, if you know what i mean."

his words instantly caused your cheeks to burn, along with your whole body. it was clear he was objectifying you, with no good intentions in mind.

you didn't bother replying. hopefully, that would be a clear indicator for him to leave, or to leave you alone.

but he still chose to linger. and while he wasn't speaking, in your peripheral you kept noticing his head turn, gazing in your direction. his eyes were nearly burning a hole into you.

"shit." he swore as he suddenly stood up, picking up and moving his chair even closer to yours, "the grass is eating away at my chair. must've been that damn rain last night."

it hadn't rained last night.

the unsettling feeling he was causing you only grew, but again you didn't dare to say anything. the uncomfortableness only eased when the whistle finally blew, signaling halftime. this meant a water break and a small snack for the kids, and it meant aaron and jack would soon be joining you for a moment.

as expected, jack hurried towards you as soon as one of the other moms distributed him his snack, but paused abruptly as he reached you, his eyes scanning between you and the man. a confused expression filled his face, his bottom lip sticking out into a pout. it was the same one he produced whenever aaron gave him the fifteen minute warning for bedtime.

"mom," jack inserted himself in between the two of you, a small package of fruit snacks in hand, "can you open these for me?"

you froze for a spilt second, touched and surprised. you've been a constant in both aaron and jack's lives for almost a year now. but that title, was a first.

"of course sweet pea," you coughed a bit to clear your throat, and to stop the tears from surfacing, opening it for him.

"you did good out there kiddo," the dad spoke again, flashing a smile.

your fists clenched at that one - you knew he was trying to impress you, and you hated how he had decided to use interacting with jack to his advantage.

just wait until you find how he's the coach's son.

while you were furious, jack ever so slightly rolled his eyes, such an annoyed expression almost humorous for a child his age, choosing to focus on his snack and leaning comfortably against your shoulder.

and a minute or two later, aaron joined.

as aaron approached, his face nearly pulled into the same expression as his son's as he analyzed the visual in front of him. only his was accompanied with a more hardened, possessive aggressiveness.

"hi sweetheart," aaron greeted you, leaning in to kiss you once you were on your feet. it wasn't a chaste peck either, but rather more showy. his fingers grasped onto the waistline of your pants, pulling you flush to him. "enjoying the game?"

you nodded, still recovering from the unexpected heated kiss, looking down at jack who also was glued to your side, offering protection of his very own. you gave him a smile, ruffling his hair gently, "i think we've got a soccer star on our hands."

"speaking of," aaron started, straightening his torso and squaring his shoulders, making him appear taller. "jack, why don't you join the others. they're taking turns aiming at the goal before the game resumes."

with a nod, and after handing you the empty wrapper, jack ran off to his teammates. aaron was still holding his menacing glare, but dropped the entire expression suddenly.

"how are you feeling?"

"feeling...?" your eyebrows quirked in confusion.

"you're not too sore today, aren't you?" his eyes darted behind you, a rather confident, fiery glint within them. "i wasn't holding back last night, was i?"

oh.

"and now that i'm thinking about it, i don't think you've ever been that loud either."

aaron had always been a stickler for pda; any displays were kept to quick kisses, hand holding, and any suggestive comments were kept to a murmur, meant for you and you only. even when you tagged along with him to bau outings, such as a bar on a saturday night, he held back. anything more was private, and aaron preferred it that way - him being the only one to witness you in such a vulnerable state, was something he took gratification in, and only added to his overall pleasure.

so this, was something else. he wasn't speaking loud enough for all to hear, just enough for the man in question. your back was towards him, so you had no idea how he was reacting to aaron's words.

"i'm fine." you managed, your body also reacting immediately.

aaron's lips found home behind your ear, again conscience of his volume - just loud enough. "good, because i'm not done with you yet."

aaron's hand slid up to the small of your back, but not without stopping on the curve of your ass first - again he wasn't subtle about it, making sure it was noticeable.

and it had to be working, for the man hadn't uttered a single word.

"and actually, sweetheart." another glare pointed behind you. "would you mind helping me at the bench for the rest of the game? i could use an extra set of hands."

"of course." you blurted out, complying without a second thought.

"good girl," he was heavy on the emphasis, patting your hip affectionately. "c'mon."

you were visually flustered as you leaned down to gather your belongings, especially when aaron's hand rested on the small of your back as you did so. your eyes lifted to the man, who was avoiding all eye contact, staring off into the field with a flushed face.

once you straightened up aaron took your hand, leading you away.

"thank you." you mumbled as your hand slid up his arm, giving his bicep a squeeze.

aaron's jaw clenched. "i fucking hated the way he was looking at you."

"you wouldn't like what he was saying either." you mumbled, causing aaron's nostrils to flare in anger. but to calm him, you changed the subject, heat filling your cheeks again, "and you."

a pleased, closed lip smile graced his face. "what about me?"

"what was all that?" you teased, stomach fluttering. you already knew the answer, but it was something you wanted to hear from him again. "i've never heard you, so..."

he chuckled softly, an almost embarrassing undertone to his words. "vocal?"

"yeah." you blurted out, blinking. "it was hot."

aaron shrugged, satisfied but still agitated. "he was devouring you, practically undressing you with his eyes."

"well, i don't think he'll be trying anything again."

"i know he won't," aaron's eyes darkened as his overly confident demeanor resurfaced, his lips pulling into a smirk as one of his fingers tapped your neck, "especially when he sees you next week. because you won't be covering up those marks."

[joannechocolat]

Two Boxers Walk Into the Ring...

No-one can have missed the absolute scenes on social media, both before and after the boxing match between Imane Khelife and Angela Carini, from which Carini withdrew after just 46 seconds, having received a blow to the face.

Social media had already been abuzz with unfounded claims that Khelife was a man, largely based on her athletic (and to Westerners, “masculine”) body type. (The same rumours had also been spread about Taiwanese boxer Lin Yu-Ting; also a woman, assigned female at birth, who got into boxing to protect her mother from domestic violence.) From this explosion of misinformation came increasingly wild claims from all the usual suspects: that she was trans (in spite of coming from a Muslim country where transitioning isn’t allowed); that she had “self-identified” as a woman in order to win (again, not possible in Algeria) plus some quite ghoulish speculation about her sex organs, her medical history and the type of puberty she might have undergone.

But here’s the thing.

Khelife is not trans. There is one trans boxer at the Olympics, a trans man called Hergie Bacyadan, who for some reason has gone almost unnoticed in this desperate attempt to prove a conspiracy that just isn’t happening. Imane Khelife was assigned female at birth, has a passport confirming it, and has spent her life as a woman, fighting against her country’s patriarchal ideas of what women are supposed to do. Not only this, but she is an ambassador for women and girls, who originally took up boxing to protect herself from those who disapproved of her interest in sports.

She was disqualified from the 2023 women’s world championships because (according to a Russian source that becomes less and less trustworthy the more you look into it) tests apparently showed some kind of unspecified anomaly, which may have been either elevated testosterone (quite possible in a woman) or the presence of XY chromosomes, once more altogether possible for a cis woman.

Nor does her condition (if she even has one) mean she is automatically likely to win against her opponents. In 2020, she made it to the quarter-finals of the Olympics, where she was defeated by Kellie Harrington, and she has been boxing on the international circuit for years without any of her wins or defeats gaining much attention.

Until now.

But her fight against Angela Carini on Thursday made her a magnet for some truly disgusting hate, largely, it seems, from the kind of men who enjoy threatening women, whatever the reason or excuse. In fact, there were distinct parallels with this and the recent anti-Muslim riots in Southport after the murderer of three little girls was falsely rumoured by agents of the far-right to be a Muslim immigrant.

Let’s be clear. Even if the attacker had been a Muslim immigrant, this violence would have been completely unacceptable. But the mob just wanted the opportunity to scapegoat and attack a community, in exactly the same way that the people attacking, threatening and objectifying Imane Khelife wanted the chance to attack a woman for not conforming to their idea of what a woman should be like.

In this context, it’s hard to see the rage and violence levelled against her for this victory as anything other than misogynistic - and racist.

It’s also hard to understand why in a sport like boxing – where the whole point is to hit your opponent – a person should be criticized for following the rules of the sport. It’s almost as if excellence is allowed in men’s sports, but in women’s sports, it’s automatically viewed as suspicious. And Imane Khelife isn’t the only athlete of colour accused of “being a man” because she defeated a white woman. Serena Williams has spent her career fending off accusations that she “was born a man” both because of her muscular physique and her excellence in her field. Caster Semenya, who has naturally elevated levels of testosterone, has been likewise demonized. It’s almost as if the people driving this toxic narrative believe that only men can excel in sport.   

And as for the argument that claims that elevated natural testosterone levels in a woman is “an unfair advantage,” don’t all elite athletes have some kind of physical advantage? Do we dismiss basketball players for being unusually tall, or weight-lifters for being unusually muscular, or runners for being lean and light? Why do we celebrate Michael Phelps for his genetic advantage, but penalize Caster Semenya for hers? Women have fought so very hard for the chance to participate in sports that were once seen as the sole province of men. Now, when they dare to excel in them, they are accused of secretly being men, or of not being “proper women.”

This isn’t any kind of feminism I recognize. The feminism I believe in is about breaking down barriers, not setting them. I personally dislike boxing (both for men and for women), but I respect any individual’s choice to compete. And attacking a woman boxer for winning a boxing match is as misogynistic as claiming to “defend” her opponent by painting her as a victim. Both athletes chose to compete. Both accepted the risks. Both have had their Olympic moment ruined by people who don’t care about sports, or the facts, or even women. This isn’t feminism. This is the worst and most patronizing kind of prejudice, and it actively hurts women – all women, but especially women of colour and those who do not conform to traditional ideas of what a woman should look like, what sports she should enjoy, or how she should behave.

Women fought for years for the right to make their own choices, to have their own identities outside of the stereotypes set by the patriarchy. Questioning those choices - those identities - isn’t progress.

 Supporting women doesn’t mean protecting them from themselves.

It means not setting limits on who a woman wants to be.

[echoed-salvation]

Watching a certain subsect of manhwa-only fans reduce yoo sangah to a "love interest waifu" character is so frustrating because it literally goes against the entire point of her character. She's been trying her whole life to escape the expectations put on her just because she's a conventionally attractive woman. She went against her family's wishes for her to marry rich and got a job to become independent, only to face harassment and sexism in her male-dominated workplace. She is frequently objectified and pushed to be appealing to the male gaze. Even kim dokja initially thinks of her as less of a person and more of an archetype. Yoo sangah is a woman trying to forge her own identity within a patriarchal society that will never see her for who she truly is.

I think it says something about the way we consume media that we always assume that an attractive female character who plays a particular role in the male mc's life must be a romantic interest - that most of the fandom discussions of yoo sangah I've seen are about whether she and kdj are going to get together romantically and that so many of us complain about being "tricked" into thinking that they are when their canon relationship remains entirely platonic by the end of the novel. When yoo sangah is close to kim dokja we expect the development of a romance between the two. If a woman is close with a man then we think that's the only option for their relationship. We are taught to see female characters not as their own people, but rather mere objects for men.

[xiihyunn]

Vampire (18+)

G!P Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

warning: vampire Jenna g!p, murder, blood, you being objectified, blowjob, choking, crying, gagging, teasing, unprotected sex, overstimulation, biting/marking, feeding, more blood, creampie, and semi-exhibition.

ⓘ Please do practice safe/protected sex in real life.

summary: — a vampire au, wherein shits get a little steamy after a long day of Jenna working, but what happens when just fucking you doesn't satisfy her hunger?

word count: 3.3k

> masterlist

a/n: i'll be writing drabbles for melissa, and mikey very soon. until then, enjoy this one x.

3rd person POV

You were a mortal, and your fiancé was not. Instead of yearning for the warmth of your significant other, you found yourself yearning for her cold body instead, and it was something that you never thought you'd crave for.

Jenna Ortega, it was a name that was forever carved into your head. You had met her years prior when you were camping, it was your dad's land so clearly no one was residing there, right?

Wrong.

Despite the woman being 5'1 she appeared much taller, much intimidating, much powerful than you. You were familiar with her kind, blood-suckers, ruthless, psychotic, and deadly.

But rather than being scared for your own life, she comes into sight with long wavy raven-like hair, crimson eyes, and snow white fair skin. She looked absolutely perfect, no flaw visible, just her, only her and her utmost real beauty.

One thing led to another and you found yourself wrapped around her fingers, not that you were complaining though, you wanted her to do that to you for your sick reasons.

"Oh fuck—" You gasps for air, as her mouth sucked your pulse point, both wrist pinned against a tree, with a beautiful figure ravishing your neck.

You hear her hiss before darting her red eyes to you, a blood curling smirk makes its way to her lips, as her eyes look at your lips hungrily.

"Pretty girl.."

Your breath hitches by hearing her voice for the first time, strong and desperate. The woman kissed you, with hunger but also with passion. Her lips were soft, working you up so well.

She pushes your wrist even tighter making you wince at the pain, but as the sound comes out of your throat, the woman uses this opportunity to slip her tongue inside your mouth.

Your back arches as an embarrassing amount of heat rolls to your center. You tried to suppress your small moans and groans, feeling too turned on by what this woman is doing to you.

She bit your bottom lip harshly, drawing blood from your flesh. You felt her sucking your lips, lapping up the blood desperately, and a loud moan escaped your lips.

She breaks the kiss with saliva trailing you both, as she raises one of her eyebrows at you along with a sly grin. Her eyes filled with both lust and hunger.

"Oh?"

Your face flushed from being caught red-handed by the woman. Pushing her body into yours, you tried to avoid her piercing gaze, only for her hand to grab your chin and force it to look at her.

She lets go of both of your wrists and grips your waist, pulling your hot body towards her. Your cunt convulsing around nothing, as your breath became unstable.

"Does my pretty girl want to get fucked?"

—

You POV

It was late in the morning, almost 12am, but I had no intentions to stop revising my work. Being in a busy and strict office environment forced everyone to be 10x hardworking, but then again, I could just get up and leave this place.

Jenna was planning to work late today since something happened with the company's stocks, causing it to fall down by 2% and Jenna has been really pissed about it.

We haven't been interacting with each other the whole day since both of us were busy, and whenever I would look inside her massive personal office, my fiancé looked so stressed and it pained me.

The dark bags under her eyes were noticeable, and her complexion was starting to deteriorate. Her eyebrows always furrowed with anger and confusion when looking at her paper works, and her bad mood was radiating all over the building.

I sighed deeply, closing my eyes, as I thought about Jenna again. I haven't seen her since our lunch break, and I was starting to get worried sick.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

God the stress is getting into me.

"Ms. Ortega— !"

A loud thud was heard in Jenna's office. My eyes shot open realizing I wasn't hearing things, as I snapped my head to her door, and looked around wondering if I was the only one who heard that, but only to see my co-workers gone. Fuck, I remember it was way pass working hours.

Before I could even stand up, a piercing scream ringed in my ears, and choking sounds were followed,

"See you in the last layer of hell, you mortal."

An eerie slashing sound was followed after, then silence.

God the silence was making my skin form goosebumps all around me.

I walked to her door and turned the knob, opening and closing the door behind me. My heart drops to see a man in his own pool of blood, throat slit open, but eyes still open lifeless, laying on the cold floor murdered.

Quickly catching my breath as I saw Jenna facing her window, looking at the city lights outside with a wine glass wrapped around her fingers.

She took a small sip still facing her back to me, I noticed her breathing too fast as she placed down her wine.

"Jenna, you can't just murder your workers in your office. We've talked about this."

Jenna looked back at me hissing, her eyes were red again and she was clearly still pissed. I saw her bloody jaw clenched, as she walked over to me. She simply steps over his dead body, not caring if her heels were soaked in his blood.

"Baby, he stole 10 million dollars from the company. He's the reason why our stocks declined." I sighed and wiped the blood off of her pretty face. "I'll call our men to clean this up." The smell of human remains was starting to get stronger.

Jenna looked at me still angry, and stiffly nodded her head. I took out my phone and dialed a number, it ringed in my ears, as I continued to wipe some blood off of Jenna.

"Jenna's office. I want it gone by tomorrow." And I hung up the call, as I was getting my handkerchief out of my pocket.

"Come here," I whispered. Jenna closed her eyes and sighed really loud. She stepped closer to me and I gently brushed the cloth on her face, and she was still beautiful as ever.

"We could've just sued him for embezzlement, J." I look into her still red eyes glowing from the dim light of her office, she simply rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.

"Not when that man-thing was gawking at my wife."

"What do you say Ms. Ortega, your wife exchanged for the 10 million dollars. It's a good deal, don't you think so?"

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Butterflies erupted in my stomach, I gave her a quick grin. "10 million wasn't even enough for him, and now he wants you too?" Jenna scoffs, "Pathetic."

I softly smiled at Jenna and gave her a quick peck on the lips. "Let's go home yeah? They'll take care of this." I walked past Jenna and went over to her office desk, cleaning her table and preparing her bag for us to leave.

I walked towards Jenna again, and her eyes were never leaving me. "Let's go," I whisper, as I hold her hands in mine to interlock them together.

"God your ass looks juicy."

Jenna harshly pulled me back to her, chest to chest as I felt her cold breath on my face. Jenna licks her lips as she stares at mine, arms around me and her hands slowly touching my bottom.

I softly groan at her hand placement, "That tight mini skirt looks sexy on you, darling." Jenna slowly presses wet kisses on my neck, and down to my collarbones. My face was feeling hot from the compliment and I hummed at the feeling of Jenna's lips on my skin.

Jenna's hands were starting to get rough and direct. Playing with my ass, she gropes, squeezes, and parts them ever so often for the cold air to hit my panties.

A pool of wetness was starting to form in my center, as I moaned in her ear. "Jenna," I huffed. Jenna looks at my eyes again, "My pretty, pretty fiancé." I could feel Jenna's bulge inside of her pants pressing against my core, and she kissed me.

A sloppy wet kiss filled with hunger, lust, and determination. It was no use to fight over dominance, as Jenna carried me to her large couch. Setting me to sit on her lap, and we continued to devour each other's faces, tilting my head a little to deepen our kiss, as I wrapped my hands around her neck, playing with her hair.

Jenna unbuttoned my blouse not taking it off just yet, but enough for her to see my laced bra and tits. Softly grinding on her clothed dick, as she kissed me eagerly.

"On your knees, baby."

I got on my knees, as Jenna started to lower down her pants. Her boxers were slightly wet with her pre-cum, and she palms up and down slowly. I stared at her non visible dick, and I felt my wetness slowly seeping out of me.

Jenna hums at her slow pumping, and looks at me smiling like a devil with her fangs out. "I couldn't help it, your ass just looked so fuckable." I pressed my thighs together, to try and get some friction inside of me.

"What are you waiting for? Get to sucking."

I gulped and slowly took out her underwear. Once it was free from its cage, the tip of her cock slapped my nose, making me blush. It was long, thick, and veiny, just the way I love it. Jenna smirks, she stretches her arms on the couch to rest them, and continues looking at me with her crimson eyes.

I grabbed her dick with my right hand and started to pump slowly. Jenna groans, as she licks her lips. Shallow breathing in the chilly air, I spit on her cock to lube it up.

I kneeled closer to her groin and licked her tip, tasting the salty pre-cum, I took her in. Jenna threw her head back with a moan, as I sucked her more.

"Fuck— Just like that, baby."

Bobbing my head in and out of her in a pace, licking, sucking all at once. My tongue running it down to her base, and up to her tip, only for me to work her even faster. Jenna's moans were throaty, deep and hoarse.

"You're doing so well, princess. Mhmm,"

Jenna grabs my head and pushes me deeper to suck her dick, and her tip makes contact with the back of my throat causing me to moan. The vibrations of my voice made Jenna snap her head back to look down on me.

"Take it all in, like a good little girl, baby."

Jenna continues to push my head in her, as she moves my head in a circle motion. A satisfied grin was in her lips, and I felt it touching and caressing the back on my throat.

"Your mouth feels incredible, shit—"

My eyes watered by the lack of oxygen, and I was starting to gag. Jenna chuckles at me, "My fiancé looks like a slut, my slut. Just look at you sucking my dick like the whore that you are." I closed my eyes and I felt them rolling back to my head in pleasure. My cunt was dripping wet, and I just wanted her dick inside of me.

I tapped on her thighs and she finally let go. I gasped for air, panting and coughing at the same time. Jenna holds my chin and gently wipes my wet lips, her cock was still standing tall but now wet with my saliva.

Jenna patted on her lap, and I quickly sat where she wanted me to be. "A little too eager." She whispers and she pressed her lips on mine again. Jenna unbuttoned my blouse all the way, and both our clothes were slowly discarded on the ground.

Jenna and I were now completely bare, and her hands found their way to my waist, making my wet pussy rub in her dick. I moaned in the kiss, as I grinded my pelvis more. My clit bumping on the veins, saliva and my arousal coating her.

Jenna tugs on my hair and flipped us over, and her figure was on top of me. "Please, Jenna." I begged, desperate for her to fuck me senseless. Jenna settles between my legs, pumping her dick on my wet labia.

"Please what, baby?"

She inched down to my chest, and palmed my breast. She took the other one and sucked hard on my nipples, wetting my skin, and biting it. I whined and groaned, fisting Jenna's hair.

"Please fuck me." I groaned by her sharp canine teeth brushing against my bud, as Jenna looked up at my face. Capturing my lips once more as she pushes the tip inside, moaning in dissatisfaction against her lips.

I wrapped my legs on her hips, pushing it more in me. Before it could slowly enter me more, Jenna slammed it inside. I threw my head back moaning, and arching my spine from pleasure.

"Oh fuck— Jenna." She stopped sucking on my nipples and started thrusting. Jenna pulls back, and starts to push her cock in again, filling my pussy up with her dick with all of her length. "So wet, and so tight just for me." Jenna slams her member in and out of me, "Fuck, you feel amazing." She throws her head back and grips on my hips.

Jenna started to quicken up the pace, slamming her cock, faster and deeper. "I could fuck you all night, princess." She picked up a rhythm, and slammed my hips further to her dick. A loud moan escapes my throat, as I hold onto Jenna's biceps. "You like that baby? Does it feel good?"

My juices were running down my ass, and some were sticking to my inner thighs. I nodded, biting my bottom lip, feeling the pressure slowly building up inside of me. "Words, princess."

I take a deep breath, "Y-Yes, I love it. You feel so g-good inside me…" Jenna smiled wide, as she took her dick out fully, and slammed it inside me once more. "Jen—!" My body flinched, feeling her cock hit my cervix.

Jenna stayed in that position for a second, and started pounding inside of me fast and fiercely. I tasted blood on my mouth, from biting too hard. Jenna looms down over me and devours my lips, as I feel myself tightening around her.

"I'm gonna cum," I mumble against her lips, as Jenna just licks my mouth dry. "Cum for me, princess." Jenna's eyes were glowing red, meeting my gaze she continued to pound more.

Jenna slams her dick inside of me one more time, and my nails dug into her biceps, as my orgasm rolled off my body. She pants, her hands almost breaking my hips, as she builds up her own orgasm.

My pussy felt a burning sensation, and my clit was convulsing by her pelvic brushing it ever so often. Jenna grabbed my chin and snapped it sideways, I groaned at her sudden movement.

My legs were aching from our prolonged position, but I couldn't help but moan by how her cock was entering and exiting my cunt.

"I need you, Y/n."

Jenna's voice was different, it sounded demonic almost, and I knew what she needed. I nodded my head, ready for her. I felt her hot breath on the pulse point of my neck, and her thumb was now rubbing my clit.

I silently curse, feeling another sense of arousal building up inside. "Your pussy hugs my dick so well," Her tongue lapping around my neck, I heard Jenna groan and moan loudly. "Fuck I'm gonna cum, baby."

I panted, feeling my pussy ache from the overstimulation, and another orgasm coming. Jenna opens her mouth and I shudder from her sharp canine teeth making contact with my flesh.

"I'm going to fill you up, so fucking take it."

Jenna sinks her teeth inside of me, and I screamed from pain. Thick ropes of hot cum painted my walls white, my back arches, as my juices came out. Jenna twitches inside of me, spilling every drop of semen inside, and the mixture of our fluids drops on her couch.

Jenna sucked from my neck, and it was starting to burn all around. I hear her gulp, then another, then another again. The corner of my vision was starting to darken, and I moaned from the painful feeling.

My grip on Jenna was starting to loosen, and everything was dizzy. I heard her gulp one more time before detaching herself from me with a loud and wet pop.

"J-Jenna.." I whisper. I whined as she slipped out of me, feeling her cum and mine running down to the couch.

Jenna's POV

Y/n laid on the couch completely exhausted, and my face softened. My eyes changed back to the color back, as I held her close to me.

"Oh Y/n, was it too much?" I whisper to her, she looks at me with her half-lidded eyes, "No.." I hear her mutter under her breath. I smiled at her and kissed her sweaty forehead, "My sweetheart you did so good for me."

Y/n hums with a small smile on her lips, "Let me go clean you up, baby. I'll be right back." I wore my wrinkled clothes, and cleaned my fiancé up. Y/n sat on the couch with her clothes on, but she was pale and unresponsive, just staring into the floor.

"My baby," I kneeled in front of her figure and caressed her cheek, "I'll get off of work for a week to take care of you, sweetheart. It'll take some time for your body to replace all that blood." I hear Y/n mutter a small okay, and she held her arms out to me.

I giggled and carried her bridal style, Y/n burrows her face on my neck. "Kiss.." I heard her say to me, I looked down at her and she was looking at me cutely while puckering her lips.

I gave her a toothy smile and kissed her, she breaks it off and snuggles to my neck more, but with a smile and blush on her face.

My dead heart beats faster, as I grab my things. I walked towards the door, then stopped. I looked back to the dead man behind me and I couldn't help but smirk.

"My wife is all mine, you fuck."

I closed the door behind me and saw 6 men outside, some were hiding their crotch, some were flustered, and some who were too proud of their hard-on to not even bother to cover it.

They all looked at me and I stared at each and every one of them with my eyes, they all quickly looked away, pretending to admire the interior design of my building.

"Get to work. You wouldn't want your boss to clean up your bodies, would you?"

[writingicing]

Been reading a lot of posts about how much the ML in When the Phone Rings is too toxic and unromantic and how can he possibly not have learnt sign language if he loved her all this time and all of that... and here is what I think.

I haven't read the book, and although I did see some spoilers, the show might change things up a bit (and as far as we have seen, the changes made in the show has been for the better.) But, I think before judging him for being too toxic, a couple of things need to be considered.

I mean, what's the genre, guys, come on -

Everyone is entitled to their opinion but the whole point of such a story and such a show is to write weird, dark, toxic characters who are fucked up. People aren't finding his not knowing sign language as romantic because to some extent, people are just letting themselves get lost in the story and experience it first.

If that is like a genuine trigger for someone, that is completely understandable. But on the other hand, can't imagine having a stance of only watching perfectly good non-toxic politically correct characters on screen - is that not boring?

And that is the point - he is fucked up.

The way I see it, it makes sense that he has not learned sign language to communicate with. Like others have been posting, I don't think he intended to ever have a proper relationship with her.

We have only seen hong hee joo's backstory and we've only seen some of it, but because of this we have an understanding of her behavior and where it comes from.

Don't we at least owe that to baek sa eon as well?

People who are fucked in the head don't always know how to love someone best. And that's okay. I don't think that the drama is saying, "hey look we are going to romanticize another husband who won't get his shit together until his wife threatens to leave him." I think the drama is trying to say, "hey, look at both of these fucked up people who have spent so many years together refusing to communicate with each other and refusing to open up."

I find that to be one of the most interesting parts of the show actually - that BOTH of them have refused to open up to each other. She hasn't opened to him in the way she hasn't opened up to ANYONE because her mother forced her to go mute and took her agency away... her mother took her right to being herself away from her, and so she is as much fucked up as he is.

And for him, it seems like his own right to be himself has been taken away as well.

While it is absurd that he hasn't attempted to learn sign language until now, I think this dialogue gives a lot of insight into how he views her in her life: "She is a brand new language."

When you don't know who you are, when you don't know how to love, when you don't know how to receive love, when you are only a fraction of your own self, would you really learn a new language? You might have that book on your shelf... it might give you comfort... it might even give you hope that you will pick it up one day to learn it... but there might still be fear within you to commit, to put effort, to approach something as scary as learning a new language (and I don't just mean sign language, but hong hee joo herself.)

Is he objectifying her in a way? Yes, he is. But he is living an objectified life as well. This is his normal, this is the worldview that he has been taught, and nothing ever has given him the hope that taking a step, a risk, will lead him to something good.

And that is exactly what is finally happening right now. I don't think he's even seen her emote, let alone resist - I mean, he seems surprised to see her angry, to see her cry, to see her make noises, to see her be so confident in her skillset, to see her challenge him. I don't think either of them have ever had stupid playful annoying moments like switching the light on and off, her stealing back her pillow from under his head, them having a tug of war with the trash bag. They have never experienced each other this way and he has especially never experienced her in this way. I don't think he has experienced anyone in this way.

So yeah, he didn't learn it before. But the best way to bridge a communication gap is to reach across it yourself. I don't even know if he's realizing it, but to pay for her dad's new care home is taking power away from her mother....to tell her she needs to stop thinking about what their family will say and go get a job next to him, publicly showing herself right by his side as his EQUAL (not just his trophy wife, mind you) when their family has been asking her to quit her job... to bring her favorite food and telling her comforting words to the best of his abilities... to defend her worth to a random kidnapper bitch... all of this is his way of reaching across that gap himself. And now she is reciprocating, she has accepted that job and she is going to teach him how to communicate with her... she is going to teach him how to learn and understand HER, who is a brand new language for him.

And yeah, alright, maybe he didn't reach across that gap until her safety was actually threatened. But sometimes, when you're so numb to yourself and to the world around you, you need cold water splashed on your face, you need an explosion by your ears to wake you up. Maybe he needed this rude awakening as not only a warning, but a sign that he can indeed go ahead and make a connection with her. That she is real and she won't hurt him, and that he can maybe even trust himself not to hurt her.

Not everyone is perfect, not everyone is created with only green flag qualities. And hong hee joo never has to forgive him, she doesn't have to do anything - but no one can deny that she can forgive if he has earned her forgiveness.

[amor-ad-nauseam]

Somethin’ Stupid (pt. 2)

Pairing(s): Sam Winchester x reader

Summary :You two are pathetic for each other, so much so that Dean can’t help but take notice. Maybe, just maybe his “playing wingman” will work out alright…

Word count : 3.5k

Tags: Reader and Sam have a crush on each other, fluff, no use of y/n, reader uses she/her pronouns, carheartt!sam, heavy make out, kissing, fade to black, almost smut.

Notes; While this does read as a fade to black i may or may not have gotten a little carried away with myself and wrote part of the smut scene… it’s not included here but if y’all want that lmk!! I am so sorry about how late this is coming out! i’ve been very busy with back to school preparations. Notes and reposts are greatly appreciated

part 1 part 3

“Rise n’ shine, Sammy!” Dean announced, clapping Sam on the shoulder.

Sam flinches awake and like a row of dominos, the guitar that was in his lap is sent tumbling to the floor - creating a harsh cacophony of strings and wood.

The sound causes you to jolt from your slumber. You shoot up in bed in a flurry of confusion. “I’m up! I’m up! Where’s the Rugaru!?” You shout, whipping your head around the room.

“Woah, Good Morning to you too,” Dean chuckles, punctuating the sentence with an obnoxious bite of beef jerky. Sam makes a face. “Want some?” He points the jerky at Sam.

“Hey, Dean.” Sam sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He runs his hands down his face. "I’m good, thanks.”

You visibly relax as the real world comes into focus. “Morning, Boys.” You say as the adrenaline wears off. Sam was still across from you, now flashing an apologetic smile and Dean was well- Dean, but in a cowboy hat. That wasn’t too unusual for him. Dean nodded a hello.

“Eh, more for me,” Dean shrugs with another bite. “Anywho,” He bends down and retrieves the guitar from the floor, now with a newly popped high E string. He hoped the motel wouldn’t charge him extra for that. “When’d you become Springsteen?” He smirks.

Sam was in no mood.

Then, his eyes lit up.

“Hey, Dean, what’s that, uh, mark on your neck?” Sam said, a grin only capable of being mustered by the most annoying of little brothers appearing on his lips.

“What mar- “Dean slid his hand down the length of his neck, stopping about halfway in sudden realization. “Oh- “He clears his throat. Mumbling something about getting banged up pretty badly, he dismisses himself to the med kit in Sam’s bag.

“Oh, and that explains why you’re just now getting back at, uh,” Sam glances to the alarm clock. “7am? from a simple salt-n-burn?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean scoffs defensively. “Cause you see, Sammy, I was actually doing my job.”

The early morning sun filtered in through the blinds and for the first time you realized that the wood paneling on the divider and both doors were made to look like a saloon door. Damn. They went all out with this whole cowboy theme. On the bright side, the sun gave everything a warm almost fiery glow. Despite the rather cozy atmosphere of the room, Sam and Dean were still going.

Only two things in life are certain: taxes and the Winchester’s arguments.

“The job that requires you to receive hickeys from girls in bars?” Sam laughed. He was now stood by the foot of your bed, stretching the tension from his shoulders. Man, even through a t-shirt his back muscles were attractive- carved like a Greek statue.

“Okay, when you say it like that it makes me sound like a hooker.”

“Maybe you are, Mr. hard worker.”

“Don’t objectify me.” Dean rolls his eyes, feigning offense . Dean was leaned over the dresser, looking in the mirror as he tried to cover a small purple mark on his neck with a square gauze patch.

He definitely wasn’t winning this one.

As if suddenly remembering something, his head perked up and he set his sights on you.

“How’s the leg?” He asked, looking at you in the mirror. He did genuinely care about your wellbeing, but it didn’t hurt that you were also a good out.

“Hm?” You were a little distracted; you’d almost forgotten about your leg entirely.

“Oh right. It’s fine really,” you swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

When you look down you find the bandage that was once around your thigh, half undone, twisted about and just an overall mess.

“Right, fine.” Dean chuckles.

“Woah, you okay?” Sam questions.

Before you know it, Sam’s closing the distance between the two of you and the roll of gauze is sailing through the air from Dean’s palm to Sam’s.

“Damn, I thought you were better at the whole first-aid thing, Sammy.” Dean remarks, happy to flip the situation back on his brother.

“I am,” Sam takes a seat next to you. He’s warm. And close. Too close. “But someone.” Damn he smells good too. Like a brand-new book. “Wouldn’t let me.” He said with a teasing expression.

“Hey, I didn’t do too bad.” Your cheeks flush.

“Riiight.” He gently tugs at an end of the bandage, and it unravels like a loose thread in a pair of jeans. “Not too bad at all.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” You reply, your face contorting to an attempt at annoyance.

“Hey, cheer up.” Sam smiled.

You couldn’t help but smile in return.

He gently slid his hand to the underside of your knee and placed your leg over his lap just as he did the night prior.

While you were busy tossing the wrinkled bandage into a small barrel-shaped trashcan near the sofa-chair, Sam took the opportunity to let his gaze linger. He drank in every detail of your appearance, hoping to seer it to memory.

For some reason, 3 things in particular stuck out to him: You never bothered to put your hair up last night, the way squinted as the sun reflected directly into your eyes, and the fact that you were still in his Carhartt. That last one especially made his heart beat a little harder.

Your lovely chaotic hair and the sun shining on your face inspired countless fantasies. Some as simple as kissing the tiredness from your expression, others, he felt bad for even thinking.

The minute you turn around his eyes are once again glued to your leg and you’re none the wiser.

“How’m I lookin, doc?”

Dean with his shirt tucked beneath his chin was rubbing ointment on what he wasn’t quite sure if it was another hickey on his abdomen or an actual bruise. Upon hearing your question he perks up, ready to make a dumb Looney Toons reference when Sam of all people beats him to the punch.

“Ah, just peachy, Bugs.” He replied in a nasally imitation of Daffy Duck.

“Huh.” Dean mumbles with some small shock. He watches the two of you from the mirror's reflection. He knew Sam had a thing for you, but this, this was something else.

The way the two of you giggled and just almost leaned into each other with every joke- pulling away in shy stupidity each time you got too close. The lingering eye contact, how Sam’s hand looked almost reluctant to leave you, the way one of you would stare when the other wasn’t looking. The whole thing left his stomach feeling like a pot of warm honey.

Damn. You’ve both got it bad.

An idea.

“Hey guys,” He chimed in.

“Hm?” You and Sam said in unison.

“Oh, sorry no you go- “you said.

“No, it’s okay you- “

“Well, you did fix me up it’s only fair- “just then you realized that your leg was still in his lap. You quickly pull away and smile apologetically. Sam does the same.

Dean just about face palms. You two are hopeless.

“Guys.” Dean clears his throat, capturing both of your attentions once more.

“I'm gonna go out and uh, do something.” Dean said with heavy emphasis on “do something.”

“Oh, okay..?” you said with confusion

“Oh, uh, need help with that?” Sam added, eaqually as confused.

“No! no, sorry…heh… I just mean that you both should stay here while I go make a move.”

“You… feelin’ alright, Dean?” You question.

“He’s still hungover I think.” Sam leans in and mutters.

“Y’know,” Dean turns his attention straight to Sam. “Making a move is always the right thing.”

“…So, you do want my help?”

“No, damnit,” Dean sighs in defeat. “M’goin’ on a coffee run.”

“Oh… okay…” Sam replied. “In that case, make two of ‘em decaf.”

“Aw you remembered?” You say with an expression reminiscent of a teen girl with a crush.

“Yeah, I know how it makes you jittery.” Sam replied, sounding embarrassed.

Dean watches as the two of you sit there smiling like idiots.

Yeah.

Extra hopeless.

- -

The latter half of the day is spent with Dean acting strangely and you and Sam struggling to figure out why.

A couple of theories arose.

“Maybe he is hungover.” You quietly conceded after Dean stretched his legs across the diner’s booth seat when Sam tried to sit down- forcing him next to you.

“Nah, he’s mean when hungover.” Sam replied.

- -

“Maybe we did something?” You suggested when Dean pulled the same diner stunt later at the library.

“Like what?” Sam replied as he studied Deans relaxed demeanor.

“Dunno. Maybe it’s 'cause we bailed last night?”

“C’mon we didn’t “bail”, you got stabbed and we all know if one of us didn’t stay with you, you’d come crawling back to finish the fight.”

“Fair enough.” You shrugged. “Well, I’m fresh out of ideas.”

“Me too. Just can’t figure out what would make him not tell us details on a case, it’s not like him.”

- -

You also happened to notice that Sam grew increasingly grumpy as the day dragged on.

Whether that was due to Dean, or his uncomfortable sleeping situation last night was lost on you.

- -

“Maybe he got roofied?” Sam mumbled when it seemed as though Dean couldn’t walk in a straight line- continually bumping into you - shoving you straight into Sam.

“Can’t be, after that whole witch thing he’s really careful with his drinks.”

“Hm…”

- -

“Mid life crisis?” Sam proposes in a hushed voice from the huddled corner of a motel lobby.

Dean had bought two rooms instead of the usual one accompanied by “we’re livin’ offa credit card scams and prayers. Besides, we’ve all pretty much seen eachother’s junk anyway.”

“He’s 30” you replied while watching Dean flirt with the woman behind the counter.

“With this job and his liver, it’s midlife.”

- -

Finally, the night had rolled around.

“Been dazed and confused for so long it can’t be true~”

The radio humming as the Impala raced down the road.

Normally, nights like this would be relaxing. Windows rolled down, the sounds of the cold and buzzing night mixed with the same five albums Dean rotated. Empty back roads and the three of you endearingly out of tune as you sang along.

But this night was simply and plainly, dead.

The air in the car had a tension not even Page and Plant could cut through. You all silently sat in your unassigned-assigned seats: Dean driving, Sam shot gun and you in the back watching the night woosh by.

It all came to a head earlier when Dean notified you and Sam that you two were on stake-out duty. You watched as Sam’s expression visibly changed into one of suppressed nausea. Sure, stakeouts usually sucked ass but did the thought of being alone with you really drive him to the point of sickness?

You breathed a sigh, sinking further into your seat at the memory.

Sam steals a glance at you in the rear view- you looked sad. Guess you weren’t too excited at the thought of a stakeout either.

The car stops about 50 yards in the underbrush in front of a dilapidated old building in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.

The light previously provided to you by the stars was dimmer now due to the thick miles of pine trees stretching high above- looking as though they could touch the sky themselves.

“Aaand we’re here,” Dean said, switching off the ignition

“Mind telling us where “here” is exactly?” Sam quipped.

“Like I said, it’s a nest.”

“Yeah. That’s the problem. That’s about the only thing you’ve said.”

“Okay, fine- look, We’ve had a lot of duds lately and I didn’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up if it wasn’t the real deal.” Dean shrugs.

Dean was an incredibly good liar. Or as he liked to call it, thinking on his feet.

“Wow you are s- “

“Such a great older brother, I know. I’m gonna go walk the perimeter, shouldn’t take too lo-“

“Great I’ll come with!”

You watch as Sam quickly follows after Dean- not even letting his brother get the words out before he’s on his feet and out of the car like he’ll catch the plague if he’s alone with you.

Yeah. Stakeouts really sucked.

From inside the car all you could hear were Sam and Deans muffled voices, but even still, you could tell they were arguing…

“I’m not an idiot, Dean. I know what you’re doing.”

“Well I’d hope so,” Dean chuckled, holding his newly sharpened machete upward to inspect it. “Dad’d kill us if we ever even thought about going in dull and halfcocked.”

“Y’know you’re not the most subtle guy in the world.”

Sufficiently satisfied, Dean re-sheathes the blade and hooks it onto his waistband. “Dunno wacha talkin’ ‘bout, Sammy.”

“You forced me to sit next to her.”

“Leg got bruised las night, had to keep ‘er elevated.”

“Got two rooms?” Sam quirked a brow.

“So? What if i wanted to bring someone back?”

“Dude, you practically threw her into me.”

“Again, the leg. Can’t walk straight.” He shrugs, grabbing a vial of dead-man’s blood and putting it into his pocket.

“Alright, cut the bullshit. I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. She’s not into me and i’m-“

“A dumbass.” Dean says sharply.

“E-excuse me?” Sam says, caught off guard.

“The girl is head-over-fuckin-heels for you. you must be a dumbass not to see it.” Dean points an accusing finger at him.

“I-“

“I see the way you look at her, hell, you busted out the guitar for her! ah- don’t give me that look, it was obvious. “

“Okay, fine, you got me Dean.” Sam throws his arms up in an exasperated manner. “I have feelings for her.” He pauses. This is the first time he’s said it aloud. His eyes go to his shoes. “Doesn’t mean she feels the same way.”

“Christ.” Dean slams the trunk, shoves his hands in his pockets and walks around the side of the car. Sam gives a puzzled expression. Dean jerks his head. “Watch this,” Dean says.

With the back of his hooked middle and index finger, Dean knocks on the back window of the Impala.

“Hm?” You lift your head from the book in your lap.

It’s a quick set of movements, but obvious, unthought action: your eyes first land on the source of the sound, Dean. He waves. You smile.

Then, all in the fraction of a second you look at Sam. Your smile falters. A short, flustered breath escapes your nose.

Your eyes go back to Dean, your lips curving into a poor attempt at a casual smile.

“See?” Dean says once you turn your attention back to your book.

“See what?” Sam replies, his voice growing annoyed and incredulous- having not picked up on anything out of the ordinary.

“You really make me wanna punch you sometimes.”

“Wha-, you know what, Dean, is this case even real? Cause if it’s not let’s just go back to the motel and-“

“Okay, Okay.” Dean pushes his arms in a ‘calm down’ motion. “It’s real, Columbo. Here,” He reaches behind his back, past the sides of his coat and pulls the local newspaper from the waistband of his jeans. “Happy now?”

Sam’s eyes skim the headline: Reports of “Cult like behavior” spotted near the old McCrowe house.

Below is a photograph of the dilapidated home they were parked in front of.

“Yes, but, h-“

“How do you know it’s real? Ya don’t. But i know you couldn’t take the risk; Even if you tried.”

Sam frowns, combing a hand through his hair. Dean smiles. “Go get ‘em, tiger” Dean says, patting his brother on the shoulder.

"You're an asshole."

Dean walks away with an extra bounce in his step. Sam frowns, again.

After taking a long moment, partially to regain his bearings, partially waiting till his brother disappeared around the bend, Sam pulls open the door.

“…Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

That wasn’t awkward at all.

Leaves crunch beneath your feet, and the book carried at your side rhythmically beats against your hip as you walk.

“So… figure out what’s up with Dean?”

“Oh, uhm,” He tosses the newspaper onto the dash as he slides into the front seat to cover his hesitation. “Nope. Not a clue.”

“Eh, I just hope he sorts himself out. If he keeps walking like that i think i’ll be bruised soon.” You chuckle at your own joke. “Guy’s got hips like Shakira, they do not lie.”

Crickets. Literal crickets fill the beat of silence after that joke.

You knew it was bad but damn.

“Ookay… tough crowd,” You mumble.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Sam said as if he were snapping out of a trance. “yeah heh, Shakira.”

You simply resign yourself to the book in your lap, every once in a while, taking a glance at the house ahead.

Meanwhile, Sam’s gaze never leaves the house for a moment. He had an expression you couldn’t quite place and an almost glazed over look in his eyes.

“Hey, i’m gonna go catch up with Dean, you’ll be fine right?” He says suddenly.

“No,” You slam your book shut and turn straight to Sam. “Sit your ass back down. we need to talk.”

“I’m sorry?”

The words come barreling from your mouth like a falling knife, sharp and unpredictable. “You have been super weird all day- I swear it’s hereditary- Dean acting strange, that i can deal with, but you? i-i don’t know what to do with that.”

A sinking sort of realization sets in. “I- god i’m so sorry.”

“I mean, did i do something? ‘Cause if i did i’m terribly sorry-“

“No, no, you didn’t do anything i swear.”

“Then what is it? i thought things were good and then- Look, if there’s something wrong just say the word and i’m there.”

“i know that but-“

“I’ll listen if you need it, i’m your friend and i wanna help.”

“That’s the problem.”

A beat of silence.

“That you’re my friend, just, my friend. That’s what’s wrong."

You feel your mouth going dry.

The words come tumbling out of Sam’s mouth much faster than he can think. “I-I knew from the moment i met you that you were this super cool and sweet and pretty but also badass at the same time kinda person and then it sorta spiraled into a crush, -which was innocent enough- so i thought it’d go away but then it didn’t and then-“

Every word, every thought, every action, everything within Sam is cut short and fades off when your lips collide with his. Your hands cup the sides of his face. His eyes widen before slowly dropping shut.

A moment later the kiss breaks and you’re sat there, staring dumbly into those gorgeous hazel eyes. From this new vantage point (the middle of the front seat) the gaps between the pines overhead is greater, allowing for starlight to filter in. The parts of his face not obscured by the shadows of his hair were illuminated in perfect detail. The soft edges of his face look almost sharp given the looming shadows, that detail though, is contrasted by the rosy blush spreading on his cheeks.

“…I wanted to shut you up,” You blink. “But I should’ve asked, i’m sor-“

The last of your attempt to apologize is muffled as Sam’s lips crash into yours.

His hand rests on the far side of your neck, his thumb moving across your cheek. The kiss grows in intensity, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips, your breath short and hot on his face. You drop your hands from his jaw and begin to slide them down his torso, eliciting a low growl-like sound from him. You both grow in fervor, the kiss bordering the fine line between sweet and desperate.

His tongue pushes past your lips and begins exploring you with warm desire. A soft sound escapes your throat at the feeling, his body growing warm, breaths shaky, and his tongue needly licking at the inside of your mouth.

Sam pulls away but only for a moment. He takes a quick survey of your face: lips red, breathing coming out in short pants, hair messy and all of you elucidated by the stars outside. You were no longer a reverie- some fantasy far out of reach. You were right there, lovely and more attention capturing than any star. So he says the thought that’s been on repeat in his mind since the moment he met you. What he’s thought on a thousand breathless afternoons when the sun shines just right on your face: “I love you”

“I love you too.” You reply without missing a single beat. you don’t have to think about it, not even for a second. You love him.

Taglist: @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillies444lola @wowzabowza69 comment to be added/ removed

[elvisqueso]

"Our warriors fought with courage, but none as bravely as Kocoum."

Pocahontas (1995)

long, rambling meta under the cut:

you know i've taken some light dips into the tags looking for content on kocoum and i never see anyone going into depth about him as a character. sure you see the posts that are all "omg he was so hot pocahontas should have picked him instead :p" but that has little to do with his character or his place in the narrative or anything. in fact, it's a further objectification of a guy who is already dehumanized in-narrative, which is so very sad to me. kocoum is a lot more than his looks, which is why they're the first thing about him you're meant to notice. he's handsome, and he doesn't smile. he's a warrior and a stoic kinda guy. but that's all surface-level stuff. he's a very complex person with an intense internal turmoil that circumstances aren't allowing him to deal with properly.

like, you really can't come to an understanding about his character and go on to say "and he should have been with pocahontas" bc the fundamental aspect of their relationship as characters is that they would have been terrible for each other. you could feasibly make an argument that, on some level, kocoum would have been good for pocahontas (the "handsome, sturdy husband" who could ground her), but there is no way in any universe that pocahontas would have been good for him, bc the one who actually needed and wanted a steady, reliable partner is kocoum and pocahontas is the opposite of that (which is one of the reasons she and john smith kind of deserved each other but that's a whole other post).

see, kocoum is like a hemingway protagonist. remember, at the start of the movie, everyone is returning from war; it's important to note how much emphasis the movie places on family as a representation of "the ordinary world." the same is done with the virginia company members at the top of the film. there, they say goodbye to their normal lives and start an adventure. here, the powhatan warriors are returning to theirs. but who does kocoum, the celebrated warrior, have to return to?

kocoum doesn't have a normal life yet. he still belongs to the battle. there's a lot to be said about PTSD as a character motif in this film: it affects a lot of the major characters in different ways. for kocoum, it means he's not allowed to depart from his wartime mindset until and unless he can start a family of his own, and for that he pins his hopes on pocahontas. why exactly he likes her goes unsaid; it's implied they aren't particularly close, but may be familiar with each other. pocahontas being the chief's daughter may be an element, but it may also be that he's harbored an admiration for her from afar for some time. whatever the reason, kocoum has a misplaced idea that being with pocahontas will bring him peace. like a hemingway protagonist, he's taken up with the notion that being with a woman, an angel, will fix him; but the woman he wants is neither interested in doing so nor able to do so, whether or not she cares for him.

and this is why his outburst of emotion when he finds pocahontas and john in the glade is so understandable. he's watching his hopes for the future being ripped apart before his eyes. he'll never get peace, and that breaks him and then kills him.

and when i say he's dehumanized, i'm talking about the way characters talk about him and then how he dies. he's fierce, like a bear. he's handsome, but doesn't smile. he's a tool, an obstacle, and ultimately fodder for both pocahontas's and thomas's character development (mostly thomas's). there's something to be said about how both kocoum and his foil john smith are objectified so differently. where john is the subject of pocahontas's female gaze, kocoum is also objectified through a masculine one (the tension-filled lens that marries fear and admiration for athletic, warrior men and rivals). and then, again, he gets 'fridged for plot reasons because he's also the paris to pocahontas's juliet.

basically what i'm saying is kocoum really needed someone to take care of him, and no one did nor could. and that's why he's so tragic and tbh deserves better treatment by the fans, too.

[milevenstancyendgame]

Eleven And Ableism

So I've been seeing recurring awful ableist views on El, all the way from old s1 posts to recent post-s4/s5-anticipating posts, and I won't have it.

People talking about El as though she was stupid. Because she barely spoke in s1, and in the following seasons still speaks like a child sometimes. Because she didn't learn a whole lot of things that children usually learn in our society, because she's lacking social knowledge.

This hurts me in a very personal way, because I have complex trauma too, with similar adaptations as El, and I've experienced the same discrimination, and still am experiencing it profoundly by the ableist welfare/medical system.

El doesn't talk much in s1, because she's traumatised, both in general, and freshly re-traumatised after being forced into the tank, encountering the demogorgon, opening the gate, fleeing the lab, seeing the first kind person to help her getting murdered, and then being bombarded with a ton of questions and unknown terms by a group of boys, the majority of whom don't seem very friendly towards her at first, but react to her like something abnormal/disgusting (wow, that's a lot) .

And she obviously was horribly abused during her whole childhood; objectified as a weapon and taught to not take up any space. She was just told what to do all the time. To only speak when spoken to.

She finds herself in a completely new environment full of strangers. Can you even imagine her level of fear, as a child who never was given any emotional safety, going outside for the first time and encountering strangers for the first time?

Of course, she doesn't talk much! Her whole life experience was a nightmare, why would she act like other kids?

Also, she has developmental arrest, meaning that due to the extremely unsafe surroundings she was born into, her brain couldn't develop as much and in the same way as that of other children, making her developmentally and emotionally younger than her physical age.

The crucial thing about human beings is that we need love to grow and thrive. Emotional connection creates new neural pathways in our brain. Learning is a social thing.

That is why she sometimes talks or behaves like an infant. Parts of her personality/brain are literally still that young.

Humans (and other animals) also do this thing called dissociation. It's a survival mechanism that makes you disconnect from your sensations and emotions (going internally numb).

Children who are repeatedly traumatised in infancy, rely heavily on dissociation, because a baby/toddler can't fight or run away.

A dissociative trauma response will paralyse (freeze) you or make you go limp (collapse). It also shuts down the verbal part of your brain (and other cognitive parts).

We see El going into freeze a lot in s1 when she's scared, but since it's fiction, it never lasts long, because there's no time.

And since El has been raised to be a weapon and therefore forced to fight, she taps into this trauma response frequently too.

All of this trauma-info-dump, just to give you a tiny glimpse of how incredibly intelligent El/her body/her brain is.

She went through all of this torture since she was a baby, no one loved her, and yet she survived, and yet she is still a whole person, a unique individual, a child who despite everything, is still capable of forming attachments and her capacity for love fully intact.

But people see a quiet/mute child, or a non-responsive child, and assume they are "stupid". I think it's pretty obvious who is the stupid one in this equation.

[artificiallita]

i got bit by the butch wolverine bug and trust me im in lov w her BUT have we considered futch deadpool???

(headcanons and upcoming fic snippets under the cut)

working on a big silly fanfic about this hot mess boinking logan in the odyssey. here’s some headcanons while the story finishes cooking.

- so. kept her first name as wade. i’ve seen a few alt names floating around for f!deadpool (big love for the winnies, winonas, and wandas of the ladypool extended universe) but genderfuck ‘not rlly a name’ just fits my vision for her. her parents were weird idk.

- deadpool is a woman in all variants except one in my personal headcanon. he is called dudepool. also her corresponding nicepool is male gaze-ified pre-mutation wade. she’s bleach blonde and her suit has a titty window.

- ex special forces turned mercenary whose life shit the bed when she was diagnosed with cancer. tried to be proactive about it long enough to get a mastectomy, then found out said cancer was pretty much everywhere else, and we know the story from there. since this predates her healing factor, she’s permanently single-boobed. has padding in her suit to even her out since it doesn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination, wears big t-shirts and ignores it in her civilian life.

- bisexual disaster zone. spent many years in a very happy and deeply perverted relationship with a male stripper named van carlysle, until that went down the toilet. a solid 70% of the casual sex she has is with women.

- dresses like the shitshow nightmare we know and love, loves an awful t shirt and a pair of crocs. put little to no effort into her appearance pre-mutation and that hasn’t really changed, had a brief phase of screwing around with makeup and wigs and then decided it was basically - to use a line of internal monologue from the pending fic - rolling a turd in glitter.

- speaking of, has a real complex about the changes to the way people perceive her post-mutation, namely that they seem to find her super fucking irritating and odd in a way that they very much Didn’t when she was still conventionally hot. between her military background and the general company she keeps, she’s quite often the only woman in her circles, and has always been a dysfunctional mess of adhd and unfiltered word-vomit, but that was generally read as mpdg ‘cool girl’ behaviour prior to her transformation, and now people seem to just think she’s a lunatic. less ‘oh god im hideous’, although she *absolutely* has those moments too, more ‘oh god everyone i know has thought i was a weird pain in the ass this entire time and only tolerated me because they wanted to fuck me’

- wears a lot of poorly applied eyeliner and purposely sleeps in it because she thinks it looks cool. it does not.

- had absolutely zero plans to snitch to cassandra about johnny’s rant, right up until the ‘bald hell’ line. she took that shit personally (almost definitely didn’t need to but whatever. i support women’s wrongs.)

and some snippets from the fic, all of which are me wade objectifying logan. technically spoilers but also what else did anyone expect

[leon-on-the-froggy-chair]

marriage in ada solidarity

(I am continuing to rant abt re6 in the tags bc i pissed myself off)

Leon stans be like "Leon Kennedy would never🥰" "Leon Kennedy would treat me right🥰🥰" when this man's average lines are "women🙄" and "following a lady's lead just isn't my style" and "maybe you're not heartless after all" to a woman who's saved his life 27473 times

[lavendernlilac]

thinking too hard about bodyguard au again so we ramble :3 continuation of this post because these thoughts just won't stop coming

- even though hotguy is griande’s personal bodyguard, the head guy of security for Anything related to griande is skizz. he’s like grian’s overprotective weird uncle. hurt her and you’ll have one hell of an angry skizz coming for you

- when hotguy was first hired, skizz 100% gave him the “I don’t care if you’re some hotshot hero, if you try anything weird with her I’ll end you” talk (because they’ve probably one or two guys they hired for security who got… weird with grian)

- not that skizz worries for long though, hotguy proves that griande’s safety is the only thing that matters to him. and the two of them have been best buds since

- in his civilian life, scar is a model and pretty well known. I think it’d be funny (and really sweet) if grian had a lil crush on him. but they don’t know each other personally. just… admiration from afar

- that being said, scar has a massive crush on griande. he has so much respect for her. he’s got nearly every album she’s released and went to a concert of hers three years ago. so when he was approached as hotguy to be her bodyguard? there was no way he’d say no

- skizz was the one who suggested it btw

- have I mentioned that mumbo is a massive hotguy fanboy? and even after working with hotguy for like a year and a half, he still gets starry eyed and nervous? (also he and iskall are dating)

- grian will sometimes bring mumbo merch and he’s like “I can’t believe you got this!” meanwhile she’s secretly dating the guy who makes the merch

- scar uses hotguy as an outlet to be himself. he’s free to be as silly or dorky as he wants—it’s his escape from the daily life of scar goodtimes, a chance to be more of himself than he ever could

- yet interestingly, hotguy was never meant to exist. see, it started with a car accident. a pretty bad one—to the point scar was at death’s door. he was very close to dying when at the last second, a certain doc monster stepped in to save him. doc genuinely just wanted to save scar’s life. he never meant to create a superhero in his desperate attempt to fulfill his doctor’s oath. but something happened, some kind of mix up. scar was healed within a matter of days, as if the accident had never occurred. and scar was… changed. irreversibly

- (not even doc could figure out what happened, when scar stormed into his office. he couldn’t reverse it, either. he offered to run some tests, to help him figure out what happened. but scar vehemently denied any more tests. no more tests. he can’t go through that again, please don’t make him do it again he can’t he can’t he can’t he—)

- (…all doc could do was offer to help scar control his new abilities)

- so hotguy was accidentally born! and it was a freedom scar never knew he needed. sure, both the powers and the impact on his modeling career are permanent marks of his near death but. in a strange way, he’s thankful for it. for the opportunity it gives him

- (even if he can’t go to hospitals any more. lab coats shorten his breath. he panics at the sight of a needle.)

- (and sure, maybe he ends up put on a whole separate pedestal, objectified in a new way, and no one sees him for who he is but. it’s a freedom.)

- and for grian… ariana griande is a way to be the person she wants herself to be. griande is confident and sassy, not a single hint of doubt to be seen. while grian moon is snarky, and rough around the edges, full of self doubt. griande is a mask for grian to pretend to be who she wishes she was. griande is a form of escape she needs. but she’s also a shield

- before grian first began in the music industry, she was doing open mic nights at different establishments. until one night, she’s approached by a producer who sees a lot of promise in her, and would love to sign her on. cue grian calling mumbo and excitedly telling him she’s found her big break. only, to mumbo, it sounds… suspicious. he tells her to be careful, but grian swears it’ll be fine and he’s just overly cautious

- things with her new producer are great! she’s introduced to a bunch of people, given a tour of her new workplace and she’s eager to get started. and well, she’s a bit disappointed that she’s only allowed to record songs that other people have written, but she’s sure that’s just because she’s new! so grian does as told, encouraged and praised by her producer

- slowly that praise is replaced more and more by little nitpicks but it’s fine. she’s inexperienced. her producer is just trying to help her. (“your tone is way off.” “you’re not holding your air long enough.” “you’re in the wrong key.” “you can hear the other harmonies, can’t you? match them.” “you’re straining.” “you sound bad. re-record it.” “your clothes are hideous.” “some make up would do you good.” “your hair is too long, cut it.” “I don’t remember your voice being so bad, grian.” “you’re never going to make it big.” “signing you on was a mistake.”)

- ( she’s not good enough. she’s not good enough. she’s not good enough. she’s not good enough. she’s not good enough. )

- she’s caught writing a song of her own. it’s actually pretty good, her producer is impressed. he’ll think about recording it

- grian isn’t allowed to sing it. she’s not even credited for it.

- this goes on for months. she’s overworked, verbally abused, and beaten down. she’s hardly seen mumbo or any of their friends. it’s not until mumbo gets fed up and goes to see her himself for answers that grian finally cracks. she tells mumbo everything, that he was right. she has no chance at her dreams now, she’s not good enough for any of it. and well, mumbo wouldn’t be a very good friend if he let grian continue to believe that

- he gets impulse’s help in getting grian free of that company, and offers to help her get back on her feet, start her own brand. and thus, mumbo and impulse become her mangers

- grian creates griande to protect herself. griande is what the industry wants, who people expect her to be (as for grian… she doesn’t know who grian is anymore). she grows more comfortable as griande and she gains popularity quite quickly. she loves it

- when it comes time for scar to meet grian and not griande… she doesn’t know who to be. she doesn’t know what scar expects from her, or who he wants her to be for him (she just wants to be good enough for him). it makes her anxious. uncertain. but all scar wants is for grian to be herself. to be comfortable and happy and safe

[blurredfloweryblood]

I wanted to add to my last post about Anya and her lack of understanding as a character (since the point is that neither Curly or Jimmy see her as a person, thus, she is never known as who she is. We don't know how Anya is because they don't care about her.) But I forgot to mention how Curly romantizes Anya (not in a possible romantic interest), again, as this helpless thing that made the impulsive decision of taking a gun. Like a child who yells at an injustice that's not that deep or is being reprimanded justly.

And Jimmy objectifies her. And one could argue that it's the same thing, that both don't see her truly as a person, rather as a reflection of their own ideals and state of mind, she is the road that they use to guide their own view of the world, and women, but the difference is that, not only Jimmy has no guilt for what he's done to her, rather, he feels entitled to do what he wants with her. And maybe this is waaaay too obvious for a lot of people, but still it has been in my mind for a day, that the way he objectifies her is through envy and disgust. Jimmy doesn't like Anya, since he antagonizes her and doesn't take seriously her job as a nurse, she is this ugly thing that he can use and abuse. Since she is not a person, it doesn't matter what he does, right? Since she is just a faceless woman, among the hundreds of other women that are in the world, why should anyone care about her specifically? He is, probably unconsciously, aware of the fact that in the corporate structure that is Pony Express, they don't matter at all. They wake up, oil the machine and hope to get a smidge of money that's not going to last. So, if he doesn't matter, she doesn't matter as well.

I guess it also has to correlate with his envy towards Curly and his reluctant ascension, because Curly doesn't want to be where he is, but Jimmy does due to the empty promises that capitalism gives us as a whole. Steady job, good money, and all that. But again, he is aware that he's just the co pilot, and he's there because of Curly, not because they chose him. Rather, Curly is not totally faceless. But Anya is, and if he doesn't matter, nobody else does. Not Daisuke, not Swansea, not Anya. In the game it is stated (through Jimmy's actions) that he doesn't listen to anyone on the fucking ship. He ignores Swansea's warnings about the vent, Anya's concern about the sugar in the mouthwash that's basically useless, and Daisuke's personality overall.

They are all meaningless and stupid, and they are all in the middle of space. What's one nurse when there are thousands more? What's one little abuse of power when she is just another name in the system, because there's a lot of other Anyas. Meaning that she doesn't need any respect or any space in his head. Truly reflecting how capitalism marginalizes and encourages rape culture as well as turning a blind eye towards abuse of power. If the cargo shipment arrives, which is something so fucking ridiculous as is mouthwash, then what does it matter if somebody used a gun, or if someone was hurt? It doesn't matter. They don't matter. Nobody will look for them if no one asks. Abandoned in space, lost names and faceless beings. Their names bellow somebody else's. What's one more fired employee? Just another little cog to replace, there are thousands of people pushing each other off the ladder. So why would anyone mourn a Daisuke? Or an Anya? or a Swansea?

Anyways yeah, I just wanted to add more about Anya, because I truly do love her. She is unknown, since nobody even spared a thought for her. Her only conscious decision was to end her life, because she herself knew that in the end, nobody would care. Nobody cared in the first place, why would they do it now? What would they do? She knew that Jimmy would kill her or threaten her given that she was pregnant and that Curly would placate her, promising things that he won't do, while covering it up. She was right, always right. But she doesn't matter in the big picture. As long as she doesn't ruin it with her dullness, why would anybody listen to her?

And if they could see the dead pixel among the grainy moonlight, they would just try to erase it or lighten it up, forcing it to be a part of the bigger picture. Because your individuality doesn't matter, when you are just another one of the others that come before you and after you, who won't hesitate to take your place. It doesn't matter who you are, because everyone knows that once you enter the mouth of the beast, you are just another piece of flesh. Nobody cares about the animal that's killed, they just care about the meat they're going to put in their mouths. You don't matter when you are an amalgamation of other fish. Because there is a last day. And then another, and another, until you drop dead.

[mephiestophyl]

I can't seem to get lucky enough to see that line again where sylus says "beasts don't belong in a cage" in destiny cafe, but besides that, I think that how sylus views himself is one of the most interesting parts of his character.

throughout our journey with sylus and in the anecdotes, we often see this reoccurring theme of beasts or "taming", like how sylus tamed his horse in no defense zone, and how he offered to take the man's dog out on a walk that had issues with people other than its owner in wander in wonder, and especially how he chose to tame the dragon instead of killing it in adventure above clouds. I personally think that sylus often finds himself sympathizing with these animals who are viewed as "troublesome" or "beastly" by other people, as he often also has to, or have taken in the past, the burden of being the "beast", whether it is others who label him as such, or if he purposefully takes on a terrifying demeanour as a means to an end.

^^ an example of this is when he frees the beasts from the overlords artificial garden, and during this anecdote, we can see some short details of what sylus is thinking during this time regarding the feelings of the caged beasts. when he frees them and recognises their need for vengeance against the people responsible for imprisoning them, it's like sylus is saying: "the ones who have been treated as monsters desire the blood of their wrongdoers. what did you think was going to happen after keeping them locked away for so long?" here, sylus is the beast, recognising his other fellow beasts, and his form of vengeance is granting them freedom from their isolation, and allowing them to take their own vengeance against their wrongdoers instead of doing it for them.

sylus is actually way more sympathetic than people give him credit for, especially towards animals, as he was also caged and treated as such, like how he was imprisoned in tartarus. I also think that when his myth drops we will also see this reoccurring narrative tool being used again, since the form that we vaguely see him take in the flashback to MCs previous life with him IS terrifying and beast-like. this appearance that he has took (which is sort of suggested to be his true form due to the multiple references there is of sylus directly saying that his current body isn't real) could possibly be what led him to alienate himself from everyone else, as people are naturally terrified by beast-like creatures and want to keep them locked away where they are isolated from everyone else.

and with the whole "taming" thing, I just think to myself how much he trusts MC?? like, it is also a reoccurring narrative tool in sylus' story where taming or some sort of bondage is involved, and I otherwise wouldve thought that sylus would hate the idea of being bound with how he desires control, but then here he is throwing himself at MC whenever a situation of him being bound by her or TO her is involved, as if she is the only one who can tug him by his leash and he'd willingly follow. honestly he's like a big guard dog..

overall, I think sylus has a tendency to objectify himself as a result of many things, such as his reputation as a beast, his lack of self-preservation due to his indestructible (as far as we know) body, and how he insists on how MC should use him to her advantage. I also love his relationship with animals and it is sometimes upsetting to see how MC thinks that sylus is incapable of extending kindness to others (though she does not think this anymore since she has developed a deeper relationship with sylus and has a better read on his character) and I hope MC can be beside him on his journey to hopefully put an end to his self objectification or at least find ways to get him in a healthier mindset and have a better attitude about himself 🥹

[penny00dreadful]

Okay, okay, okay listen.

Remember when we were all obsessed with Steddie Legally Blonde a while back? Yes, I’m still thinking about it, leave me alone. And I adore everything I’ve read. It’s all so fantastic.

But I had a thought because what if we switched it up a little? I’m going mainly off of the musical here, so bear with. 

So what if instead of having Steddie as Elle and Emmett, we instead have them as Paulette and UPS Guy/Kyle??? Like??? It fits, right???

But then, but THEN who do we have as Elle/Emmett?

Buckingham.

No, but just think of it! 

Or I guess you don’t really need to because I’ve thought of it enough for all of us and it goes like this:

(OMG you guys I blacked out and when I woke up this thing was 3.1k long written over a few hours. I haven't edited this at all so please be gentle about typos/tense changes etc. The fever just took me.)

Chrissy is your quintessential girly girl. She is Elle Woods. She’s blonde, pretty, cheerleader, very feminine and happy where she is in life, President of her Sorority with her besties by her side and her guy who is… well he’s as good as any guy could be, right?

Jason is handsome, rich, well connected, he treats her with affection and he humours her when she has some pretty wild, out there ideas. 

But then it happens and they break up because apparently having a girly girl for a wife just wouldn’t look good if he’s gonna live his life the way he wants to. Lawyer, his own practice, running for office. 

Apparently her blonde hair and boobs would hold him back which, what the fuck??? 

What does that have to do with anything?

They love each other, right? That surface stuff isn’t supposed to matter. At all! They’re supposed to be together no matter what because they… they love each other?

Well fuck that noise, no one tells Chrissy Cunningham she’s too fucking blonde to do anything which is a hypocritical ass thing to say because has Jason looked in the fucking mirror recently?

Different fucking rules, apaprently. 

Well, no more.

She’s gonna fuck up law school right along side him and she’s gonna wear fucking pink while doing it too!

And like, everything is going fine. 

Chrissy’s not stupid, she knows how she’s perceived by people before they get to know her. 

Vapid, bimbo, perky, blonde.

Like that’s an insult.

It’s just harder now that she’s away from her girls, gays and theys back home. And everyone here seems to think that the best way to live their lives is to look boring as shit while doing it along with tearing each other down.

She fucking hates it, but she’s determined to see it through. 

It helps that she seems to have found the one person on the whole of the fucking east coast who actually listens to what’s coming out of her mouth rather than just paying attention to the hair on her head or staring at her tits.

Robin is so strange.

She’s different in such a refreshing way, it’s like being able to breathe clean air for the first time in years.

And she’s fucking sharp. And sweet. And so, so comforting. 

Chrissy would have never managed to survive the depression of those first few weeks without her.

And like, she’s not ignorant to the fact that Robin sometimes does look at her boobs but at the same time it just feels different coming from a woman than it does a man. It doesn’t feel so objectifying.

Instead of putting Chrissy on edge it makes her feel a little smug. A little proud of herself, it makes her feel attractive and desired in a way she hasn’t felt in a very long time. 

Is that sexist? To prefer the attentions of a woman over a man when both do it just fine for her?

Chrissy’s not exactly sure, but she knows she enjoys it when it’s coming from Robin.

So maybe it’s a Robin thing. 

Chrissy honestly thinks things are looking up for her. 

Until Jason introduces Nicole. 

His fucking fiancee???

It’s been, like, four months since they broke up.

Nicole hates her guts, she can tell. She thinks she’s some two braincelled idiot who got into Harvard on daddy’s dime and needs to be babied through the simplest of tasks while not understanding how condescending everyone’s been the whole time.

Chrissy fucking understands. She’s been through it all before, but back then she had people by her side. It’s all so fucking childish. The world already hates women enough, Chrissy desperately doesn’t want to be at another womans throat, over a man no less, but Nicole doesn’t seem to feel the same way.

She’s ambitious and cut-throat and dedicated and a little bit terrifying. 

Apart from Robin, she’s on her fucking own out here.

And she needs something. 

Something of home to bring some light back into her life.

So she gets in her car and just drives around the streets hoping something will catch her eye. 

And it does. 

Some tiny little hole in the wall salon with a pride flag out the front that she’s immediately drawn to because god damn it she misses her friends. The girls, the gays, the theys.

As soon as she pulls over she feels both simultaneously like she’s come home and she definitely won’t fit in here, but she’s so emotionally raw at this stage it all kinda ends up converging on her and now she’s standing in front of a mostly empty salon and there’s a guy looking at her and she’s just fucking crying.

Through her blurry vision she can see the guy approaching and she really fucking hopes this isn’t gonna turn into a thing because she just does not have any spoons left to deal with some creep right now. 

But he seems to sense how he’s coming off because he becomes a little more effeminate from one step to the next.

“You okay, honey?” He asks, big brown eyes wide with concern and a hand covered in rings hovering over her shoulder, not touching. He has a cigarette in the other hand, held away to keep the smoke from reaching her, his arms covered in ink but Chrissy wants nothing more than a cigarette right now.

Or, that’s kind of a lie, but she’d love one in all honesty. She hasn’t smoked in so long. 

The guy spots her eyeing it, sticking the cigarette back between his plush lips and needing to use both hands to pull his carton from his pants considering they’re so tight.

“Bad day?” He hands her one and Chrissy ends up breaking down all over again.

She tells him that it hasn’t just been a bad day, but a bad half a year, really. She tells him all about Harvard and Jason and her professors and Robin and by the end of her ranting they’re sitting back in the breakroom of the salon. They guy’s name is Eddie, she learns and despite his mean and scary exterior Chrissy thinks he might be the gentles person she’s met in this whole god forsaken city.

He holds her hands between his and listens to her. Actually hears her talk and pays attention and is concerned and attentive and she loves him for it. 

He helps her find her confidence again, at least for the rest of the day. They commiserate about how they both stick out like sore thumbs in their communities and how people need to just kinda get over it.

He encourages her not to let the normies win, do go hang out with Robin, to go kick ass and she’s just wondering how on earth she can ever repay the favour when they hear

“Knock, knock.” 

Coming from the front of the salon.

Eddie’s whole face drains of colour before immediately turning red and he bolts up from his chair, stumbling out of the staffroom and moving back behind the receptionists desk.

Chrissy gets to watch in real time as all of Eddie’s incredible confidence and easy lightheartedness disappears into a vat of nerves mostly hidden by cheeky flirtation as he twirls a lock of hair around his finger and bats his eyelashes at the Hot UPS Guy who looks equally as charmed. 

When the guy, Steve, has to get back to his route, Eddie practically melts against the desk as soon as he’s out of sight. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs help.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at her but smiles anyway. “I had that handled just fine.”

Over the next few months, she and Eddie get closer, Eddie and Steve stay exactly where they were that first day and she and Robin are quickly approaching best friends level.

But Chrissy is starting to come to terms with the fact that maybe she wants a little more than to be best girly-girl friends with Robin and maybe she wants to stick her tongue down her throat about it. 

The two of them are practically attached at the hip, spending all day at classes together, alternating between their respective rooms to study late into the night, ending up in the same bed together and waking up together in the morning. 

Chrissy is almost, completely, entirely sure that this is all very not platonic but it’s so difficult to tell.

She’d be constantly sleeping over with her friends back home, hugging, kisses on cheeks, cuddling in bed or when watching movies, just girly things.

But this feels different. Is it different?? Or is this just how Robin is with all her female friends, the same way it’s always been how Chrissy was with her friends back home. How can she tell if it’s going from platonic to romantic??

And all of that needs to go on the backburner anyway because they’re being put on a real life, for realsies you guys case. And if they fuck up this case they could be at fault for someone spending the rest of their fucking life in prison for something they didn’t do??

Unacceptable.

And after Chrissy finds out their client used to be on the same cheer team as her? It was all over. No way was she gonna let her go to prison just because everyone thinks a pretty young woman couldn’t possibly love someone a little older than her. 

Not on Chrissy’s watch. 

But first she has to deal with Robin’s wardrobe because they professor is insistent that all the women wear skirts and tights and Robin is not having it.

Neither is Chrissy to be fair, so she takes Robin out to the most lavish place she can, decks them both out in the fiercest looking pantsuits they can get their hands on, refusing to back down.

It comes as a surprise to both of them when Nicole stands with them in solidarity as well and now their professor is both outnumbered and losing his arguments with only Jason on his side about this and they fucking win.

It’s only a small win but it still feels fantastic. 

Riding her high of winning that small fight, she bursts into the salon and informs Eddie that he is going to either kiss or ask out Steve the next time he sees him and when Eddie reacts like she just said she was going to shave all of his hair off she refuses to hear it. 

Because the thing is Eddie is pretty, really pretty and she knows that Steve knows it, but she doesn’t think that Eddie himself is really aware of it. And despite his prettiness, he’s all awkward elbows and knees. 

So she gives him some tips and shows him how to highlight certain things about himself, the long legs, the tattooed arms, the hip bones. Even his cute little bum. She teaches him how to subtly pull at his clothes in conversation so some skin is exposed or his tiny little waist is highlighted. She teaches him how to use his eyes to go in for the kill.

He doesn’t seem to think it’ll work but she is almost certain it will. 

And it’s confirmed for her when she gets a call later that night from Eddie who sounds fucking over the moon and completely bewildered by the fact that Steve likes him back??? Has done for months?? And they had some incredible dirty nasty sex in the salon after it closed for the night and how they’re going to the movies tomorrow??

Eddie swears he’s gonna send her the biggest fuck off fruit basket he can find. 

Everything is looking up for her, especially after she has such a major win in court, figuring out one of the prosecutors witnesses had perjured himself on the stand (without outing him to the whole damn court, thankfully).

Or at least everything was looking up for her until she found herself alone in a room with her professor and she felt the energy in the room shift before it happened. 

His hands were on her before she could do anything about it and she cracked him across the face for it before she could even think about what this could do to her legal career going forward. 

Because that was the reality of it, wasn’t it? 

Either allow herself to get assaulted or destroy her career before it even started. 

She didn’t know when her priority had shifted from getting Jason back to actually pursuing this as a future career. But she had found to her own surprise she loved it. She adored it actually. 

And now…

Now it would all be gone. 

Jason had seen, of course he had and he was less than kind about it because apparently it made more sense that she had fucked her way into Harvard than had actually been smart enough to get there on her own. 

She couldn’t stomach anything Nicole could possibly have to say to her but if the way she was glaring at Jason with barely concealed rage after that comment was anything to go by, Chrissy didn’t need to worry too much about that.

She just wanted to go. To get out. She needed to get out. And she would have gotten away scott free if Robin hadn’t been hanging around waiting for her.

Robin’s face broke into a bright smile but that quickly slipped away when she saw the state Chrissy was in. She was all sweet concern and care and affection but Chrissy couldn’t fucking deal with it at that moment, she couldn’t face her.

She couldn’t face Robin who would find out what a fool of herself she’d made believing in Chrissy, when Chrissy had thrown all of their hard work away.

Because no one would ever fucking see her as a person. She was just a piece of ass.

So she ran.

She didn’t even realise where she was running to until she was standing outside the salon doors again. 

It was late, they were closed, of course they were, why was she here?

She was standing outside the door crying again like she had been the first time and it was all just so fucking stupid-

“Chrissycakes?”

She was enveloped in Eddie’s arms before she could even blink, being ushered inside and steered back to the staffroom, same as that first time. 

There were beer bottles and take out containers over the table and Steve sitting at the table and oh, she’d interrupted something hadn’t she? 

What a fucking way to officially meet one of her best friends new boyfriend right?

But they were so sweet. 

They sat and listened while she spilled the whole thing, offering at different points to hunt down her professor for her or slash his tires or lose all of his mail or whatever and she was forced to giggle through the tears.

But she shook her head in the end. She was tired. She was sick of having to defend herself constantly. 

She needed… she needed to go back to where she belonged. 

And she was about to. 

She was about to leave the salon, swear to keep in contact with Eddie because god damn it she loved him now and she was ready to run.

But then there was a hammering at the door and Chrissy poked her head out to see Nicole standing there looking like she was on a fucking crusade. 

And… was that…?

Robin was standing behind her, looking like she was just trying not to get in Nicole’s way.

Eddie grumbled to himself about changing the damn salons opening hours if this was to continue but he unlocked the door anyway.

Nicole burst in all fire and determination, shoving her finger directly in Chrissy’s face.

“I hated you. But god fucking damn it if you didn’t prove to me that this is the career you belong in. And I refuse to stand by and see an admirable woman of your smarts and calibre get run over by some small dicked professor with a receding hairline. You’re so much more than that. So c’mon. We’re breaking through that fucking glass ceiling if it kills us.”

Holy shit.

Robin pulled her into a tight hug, warm and comforting and a little too long to be platonic, running a hand through her hair. 

“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with Chris, but… you deserve to be in that courtroom.” She muttered into her ear and Chrissy could do nothing but nod into Robin’s neck.

She heard Eddie sigh behind her. “Okay if we’re doing this then… I need to make a few calls.”

A few days later Chrissy made her triumphant return to the courtroom. Everyone was there to support her. Eddie, Steve, her besties from back home that Eddie had called, telling them it was a friend emergency and so of course they all came right away along with Robin and Nicole bracketing her on each side. 

And while she could tell the court wasn’t taking her rants on hair care very seriously, when she finally came out with the verbal crackdown, proving the witness was actually the murderer, the gasps from the gallery were enough to feed her for years to come. 

When all was said and done at the celebration later that night, she found herself being approached by Jason.

He told her it was a mistake to let her go, to discard her the way he had and she agreed that yes it was. But his mistakes weren’t her problem anymore. And from the look of it they weren’t Nicole’s problem either. 

Jason surprisingly took it well enough, mentioning that he never really felt the same passion for law that she so clearly possessed. 

She wished him luck with finding what he wanted to do.

But now.

Now she needed to find Robin. 

Chrissy couldn’t take it anymore.

So weaving through the people around her, she grabbed at Robin’s hand, dragging her away from Steve who she had become inseparable with and pushing her into the hallway.

Robin didn’t even have a chance to ask what was happening before Chrissy was on her, pressing her into a wall, holding her close with her hands on either side of her face, kissing her with so much longing and elation and joy and happiness that when she pulled away Robin looked completely dazed. 

Robin blinked slowly a few times before her face broke into a wide grin. 

“Me too.”