#so anyway male dominated fields and whatever Tumblr posts

[diteach]

Ah, yes, plumbers and sellers calling me for information and then immediately calling my boss not because I'm inexperienced (and in that case they would be right, as I've begun working here like two months ago) but because I'm a young woman who couldn't possibly be giving them an accurate answer

[adispit]

‘Sweet thing’

Hare! original character x bunny! male reader

warnings: predator prey dynamic,humping, overstim, mind break (kinda), breeding, slight dubcon, naive innocent reader, size kink, scent kink, creampie

notes: this idea has been stuck in my head for too long lmfao I rly went down the rabbit hole writing this 💀

You were a sweet thing, a bunny bred to be docile and kept at home like the naive creature you were! Your owner was extremely protective, never allowing you to go out and always pampering you with treats and pets!! You were the perfect house pet. However, always being at home was so boring and dull. Sure, being fawned over by your owner was always enjoyable but you wanted to be like other bunnies! Why shouldn’t a grown-up bunny like you also be able to go out and explore the huge world? All you had was a small town where you and your owner lived in, nearby meadows. There were so many delicacies you hadn’t tried yet, like wild carrots or apples! All the food you had at home were just leafy greens and pellets…so you had to formulate a plan immediately!! Sure, your owner might be a tad bit worried or maybe even disappointed but you would just go for a quick trip into the meadows nearby, only a few hours you swore!

Hence, your plan began. No better time to slip out when your owner was busy at work. Full of excitement and anticipation, you quickly jumped out of the window onto the pavement. The fields were so close! You quickly hopped your way to the meadows where the other bunnies promised there would be the precious apples and food you had dreamed about. Hungry and ecstatic, you finally arrived but the delicious food that was spoken about was nowhere in sight… you were starving! Maybe this was a bad idea, you shouldn’t have gone out, your owner was going to be so angry… Not only was the pristine and white fur they loved so much now dirtied, you were a disobedient bunny who ran away because you were too greedy…

Tears began to form in your eyes as you thought about the disappointment in their eyes and how they probably wouldn’t love such a naughty bunny anymore… You were such a silly thing, knowing nothing of the world and yet you still wanted to explore! Hours went by, and you grew tired of wallowing in your misery, it was night now anyways, it was time to finally go home even if your owner would be unhappy. At least you had a roof and a warm bed to sleep in! Trudging through the tall grass, you tried to retrace the steps you took but it was too dark. The inky darkness filled your vision as panic began to fill your heart. How were you supposed to go home now?! Oh no…you could feel the waterworks starting again. However before you could even burst into tears, your ears picked up rustling in the grass behind you.

Without a single thought left in your brain, you immediately darted in the opposite direction of whatever monster was stalking you in the night. Fear clouded your senses as you felt a shiver go down your spine. What horrors were hidden in the night? You didn’t want to know! You really should have stayed home but now there whatever was hunting you! Unfortunately you began to tire, your hunger and outbursts having sapped your energy, but you could still hear the loud thumps of whatever chasing you get closer and closer, their hot breath on your nape. Your pace slowed and the creature tackled you. Clenching your eyes shut, you willed yourself still and accepted your fate.

You could feel something caress your cheek. “Open your eyes bunny.” A domineering voice commanded you and you meekly peeked one eye out to see a massive hare over your form. He was huge! Both in muscle and size, he overwhelmed your tiny body. You didn’t stand a single chance against him. “What d-do you want, Mister Hare… I-I just want to go home..” you trembled, the stutters in your voice unable to hide your fear. A low chuckle reverberated from him, “Oh you naive thing, I just want to eat you up. You’ve been in my territory since afternoon and emitting that sweet scent. A tiny creature like you should be protected but you just happened to chance upon me, what a pity.” Hearing his words, your suspicions were further confirmed. You were never getting home and a big bad hare now wanted to eat you. You went slack, what could you even do now… “O-okay, Mr Hare, just make it quick… I don’t want to be eaten painfully and slowly…” you were ready, this would be how you went…

“You misunderstood me bunny. I’m not eating you up literally, I’m going to breed you so you reek of me all over like my property.” Confusion filled your face but not long before you felt him grind against your pelvis. Oh. He meant that… Forgetting your initial terror, you immediately flushed red. You had never done this before..and your owner forbid it, saying something along the lines of “I’m not ready to be a father”. Wait, but you were both males, how could you both mate?! Your obvious inexperience and bewilderment must have been evident because Mr Hare laughed again. “It doesn’t matter if you’re male, there’s still a hole, you silly thing.” He grunted. Not waiting for your reply, he hoisted you onto his lap, the curve of your ass now rubbing against his huge bulge.

You could feel the copious amounts of precum wet the thin shorts your owner had insisted on giving you for the sake of “propriety” and yep there they went, as Mr Hare ripped them off. A whimper escaped you as the friction of his cock rubbing against your perineum sent sensations you had never felt before running through your body. “Uagh-?!” A surprised moan ripped from your throat as you could feel something thick fill your hole. His fingers were in you! You felt his fingers graze something in you that made you clutch at his shoulders in a fit of pleasure. A knowing smirk appeared on his face and he repeatedly jabbed at the spot, “I found your prostrate.” He snickered.

“N-nng- ah! T-too much!!” You keened as you buried your face in his shoulders, your body spasming at his relentless teasing of your prostrate. Shortly after, a loud sob left you as your cock squirted all over your stomach, leaving you limp. “Can’t have you weak before I breed you bunny.” Mr Hare clamoured as he left a chaste kiss on your lips, a sharp contrast to his rough man handling. Pushing you into a mating press, the head of his throbbing dick pushed at your weakly twitching rim. Glancing down at his cock, terror filled you at the size of his dick, that was monstrous!! “N-no, wait it won’t f- AGH” Before you could protest, he sharply thrusted into you as you wailed out in shock at the sudden intrusion.

Growling, the hare left no chance for you to complain as he snapped his hips against yours repeatedly like he was a man possessed. “You really are so tiny, look at your small excuse of a cock bunny…you deserve a good breeding..” he teased as his cock plunged into you. Endless whines left you as the onslaught of pleasure left you orgasming over and over again. You could only weep as Mr Hare painted your insides white without an end in sight. “P-please sir, it’s too m-mu-much!” You pleaded but your pleas for him to stop fell on deaf ears. “Gh- just gotta give you one more load one more bunny, gotta make you full of my cum.” He murmured as he grasped at your waist tightly. Oh that was sure to bruise tomorrow. Teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, you could only mindlessly mewl in response as another dry orgasm wracked your body.

The sun was rising and you were a sight to be seen. Eyes rolled in a dry orgasm as you unconsciously grinded back on the hare pistoning away at you, a mess in your own bodily fluids and the semen dripping from your abused hole. Unable to take anymore abuse, you blacked out and before you slipped into the welcome embrace of the darkness, you could feel yourself getting cradled and picked up and a kiss pressed to your dry lips.

You were definitely never gonna go out again.

note: why does no one ever talk about how hard it is to write smut OMG 😭😭 I legit spent an hour stressing over what to write so it sounded stimulating enough and legit 😞 anyways take this pathetic piece pls have mercy lol its like my first time writing smut (despite the fact I read smut 😭🙏)

Reblogs are appreciated :) if you want a part 2 lmk!

Pt 2 is here : Mates (Sweet Thing Pt.2)

[astonmartinii]

match my freak | yuki tsunoda social media au

pairing: yuki tsunoda x fem rugby player reader

there's only one person who can match the yuki tsunoda radio freak...

MAIN MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

.・゜゜・ part of the aston martini summer olympics ・゜゜・．

yukitsunoda0511

liked by pierregasly, danielricciardo and 384,098 others

tagged: yourusername

yukitsunoda0511: spa was fine i guess, time to spend my summer break in france (ew) supporting the love of my life (yay)

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user1: 'fine i guess' as if we didn't get YOINTS

user2: tbf if my gf looked like that, points also wouldn't matter to me

pierregasly: FRANCE (EW)??? DID OUR HOMOEROTIC TENSION MEAN NOTHING???

yukitsunoda0511: oh so when i diss france we had homoerotic tension but when i said we were boyfriends i went too far 🤨

pierregasly: diss me all you want but not the homeland?

yukitsunoda0511: fine, i will from 5pm tomorrow

pierregasly: ???

yukitsunoda0511: because y/n will be there and therefore it will be the ONLY country in existence

pierregasly: i give up

user3: i need a man this down bad for me asap

user4: maybe it's time to lower my height requirements :(

yourusername: it's not how tall you are but how you are tall

user5: idk what the fuck that means

yourusername: IT MEANS SHORT KINGS PUT IN A LOT OF EFFORT WHY DO I HAVE TO SPELL OUT EVERYTHING? WHERE IS THE MEDIA LITERACY? THE READ COMPREHENSION?

user6: okay i think i now know ^^ why y/n and yuki are so good together

user7: i need someone to edit together their most iconic on field and radio moments together please for my mental health

yourusername: that's a crazy coincidence because the love of MY life will also be in paris 🤨

yukitsunoda0511: well i bet i love my love of my life more than you love your love of your life

yourusername: NUH UH

yukitsunoda0511: yep :PPPPPPP

yourusername: u wanna fight?

yukitsunoda0511: yes actually!

yourusername: well soz babe i can't get all hot and bothered before competing 🤷‍♀️

yukitsunoda0511: BORING

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, pierregasly and 318,905 others

tagged: yukitsunoda

yourusername: seeing yuki again: 10/10 ... realising he's not allowed in the olympic village and there's only cardboard beds anyway -100,000/10

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user12: so i suddenly understand why they give out so many condoms at the olympics

user13: why do they all go so feral?

yourusername: have you seen my man?

yourusername: AND THAT'S A RHETORICAL QUESTION TO SHOW OFF MY HANDSOME LITTLE MAN NOT AN INVITATION FOR YOU BITCHES TO THIRST

user14: noted 😔

pierregasly: i'm the one with a bad digital footprint but you're out here being just as horny as me on main

yourusername: i am allowed to ?

pierregasly: and i'm not allowed to?

yourusername: no

pierregasly: so fuck me i guess?

yourusername: let me be a woman in a male dominated field (being gross online)

yukitsunoda0511: yeah pierre stop trying to minimise womens' voices

pierregasly: how am i the bad guy again?

yourusername: man ❤️

pierregasly: yuki is a man?

yourusername: he's MY man which means he's been closely vetted and is basically one of the girls now

user14: i know visa cashapp rb or whatever the fuck they're called hate to see them coming

user15: it's the fact she's taller than most of the mechanics and she is always watching over them

yukitsunoda0511: i missed you so much but i can't wait to watch you beat the shit out of the competition

yourusername: for you, anything

yukitsunoda0511: a gold? so at least one of us can be world champion 🥺

yourusername: i'll win gold for you and then schedule in a friendly visit to see helmut

yukitsunoda0511: i think your mere presence could give him a heart attack

yourusername: oh well

user16: so real of her

olympics

liked by yukitsunoda0511, landonorris and 1,209,678 others

tagged: newzealandrubgy

olympics: the women's rugby final saw gold go home to new zealand!

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user17: okay yuki i am SEEING THE VISION

user18: i watched this game to see her and i am a changed woman

user19: i am no better than a man

danielricciardo: my personal favourite moment was when y/n clotheslined that poor girl, laughed in her face and said if she tried to get past her again she'd make trinket dishes out of her knee caps

yourusername: why thank you, i think my wit is my least appreciated part of my game

danielricciardo: i think we should honestly get you in the commentary box

yourusername: i'd make mince meat of crofty, he'd never say anything about yuki's radios again

danielricciardo: can you tell them to stop telling me to retire while you're at it?

yourusername: sure, i'm feeling generous

danielricciardo: a gold medal will do that to you

user20: so they weren't joking when they said that her and yuki are just the same person in different fonts ?

user21: my commentary team apologised about 20 times for her swearing on the broadcast but then they kept bursting out laughing whenever she said anything

yukitsunoda0511: HOLY FUCKING SHIT

yukitsunoda0511: GOAT GOAT GOAT MY GIRLFRIEND IS THE GOAT

yukitsunoda0511: i'm so proud, i love you y/n 🫶🏻🥹❤️‍🩹

yourusername: i love you too boo

yukitsunoda0511: can they let me in the room now? i'm getting withdrawal symptoms :(

yourusername: of course, i can't celebrate properly without you

yukitsunoda0511: 😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄

user22: picturing yuki waiting outside the team room is so cute

user23: the nz team instagram posted a pic of it on their story he had flowers and balloons (∩˃o˂∩)♡

yukitsunoda0511

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 893,401 others

tagged: yourusername

yukitsunoda0511: she matches my freak :)

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user25: oh believe me we know

user26: i'm like a confusing mix of scared AND turned on

yukitsunoda0511: you keep that to yourself

user27: okay sir 🤨

yukitsunoda0511: you can look but you can't touch :P

yukitsunoda0511: actually don't even look

yukitsunoda0511: don't even think about her ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡)

user28: this man is insane, i love him

yourusername: you LIKE HIM YOU APPRECIATE HIM FROM AFAR YOU MAYBE HAVE A PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIP YOU DON'T LOVE HIM THAT'S FOR ME AND ME ONLY

user29: oh they weren't joking about matching each other's freaks

yourusername: there's no one else i'd like to be a lil gremlin with :3

yukitsunoda0511: gremlins forever with you <3

yourusername: sounds like paradise to me !!

yukitsunoda0511: i'm on it ✍🏻

user30: is he going to propose ???

user31: hopefully (ㅅ •᷄ ₃•᷅ )

pierregasly: yeah i guess you guys are kinda cute

yukitsunoda0511: kINDA?

yourusername: i know this man ain't speaking on us

yourusername: kika is the face economy in that relationship

yourusername: her back must hurt from carrying the style in this couple

francisca.cgomez: well 🥹

pierregasly: WHAT ? HOW ?

yukitsunoda0511: don't call my girlfriend kinda cute then 🤨

user32: good lord

fin.

note: she's back !!!!!

[eomayas]

his friends and his dad hate me • chs

pairing: non-idol!vernon x fuckgirl!reader, fwb

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!! angst

synopsis: you broke his little heart, he’s a cry baby. OR, reader excels in the male dominated field of being a female fuckboy! (based off ‘crybaby’ by megan thee stallion)

warnings: p in v, oral (m receiving), fingering, riding, vernon gets his heart broke, reader is not a good person

a/n: i’ve had this in my drafts for awhile and needed to finish it 😭 i love when readers are morally gray or just wrong & bad! pls remember this is just fiction ok thx!

despite the protests from his friends and the little (though extremely loud) voice in the back of his head telling him this is a horrible idea, vernon grabs his car keys and tries to slip out of his apartment. “dude, we didn’t even get to finish the game! get back here!” wonwoo shouts, frustration clear in his voice. it’s bible in their friend group to finish any smash tournament that’s started, and he’s breaking the one and only most important rule.

“later!” vernon says, hand on the door knob. he’s sort of stalling, sort of wants to be told that he has to stay behind. the thing is, he’s pathetic, especially when it comes to you. he’d cross all seven seas to get to you, if you asked.

“she doesn’t even like you!” soonyoung shouts. vernon sighs and rolls his eyes, walking down to the hallway and stopping at the entrance of the living room. five of his friends look at him with mild disappointment and he puts his hands up in surrender.

“first of all, she invited me over so you’re wrong—and secondly, you’d all do the same if you had prospects but you don’t,” vernon says, letting out a breath. it felt good for him to fight back like that, though soonyoungs comment does leave him feeling sort of doubtful. very doubtful, actually, because he knows there’s some truth in his statement whether he wants to acknowledge it or not.

minghao and joshua share a look and vernon sighs. “fuck you guys,” he says.

“yeah, whatever. but don’t come back here crying,” soonyoung says, a shit eating grin on his face. vernon flips him off, face flushing in embarrassment at the memory of him getting so drunk that he cried in mingyus arms at the club over you. they’ve never been able to let it go, bringing it up every time your name is mentioned. it’s mortifying, but a slight wake up call. except he’s not thinking with his head right now.

they all snicker, but minghao manages to give him a sympathetic shrug. it doesn’t do much to alleviate the doubt in his head, but the support is nice. simply put, his friends are not fans of you, and he doesn’t necessarily blame them. your relationship started out rocky and unserious—he was a late night booty call for you and a fill-in boyfriend without the title. he did boyfriend things with you—for you, thought you two were together until you dropped the bomb that you didn’t like him or want him like that. he was crushed, but he played it cool and told you that he wasn’t looking for a relationship anyway. that only made things worse, seeing that you only called him when you wanted some attention, and constantly made him feel like you wanted him.

the crying in the club bit was the straw that broke the camels back for his friends. they had a mock-intervention for him, urging him to delete your number and to find somebody else, but as if you were summoned at the mention of vernon moving on, you’d called him a few days later and got him back where you wanted him. he hasn’t been able to escape you since, caught in some spell or trap you put him under.

“whatever,” vernon mutters, pulling off his cap to run his fingers through his hair. “i’m leaving now.” he declares, urging himself to actually make the move to leave.

he’s halfway to the door when minghao calls out to him by saying, “my therapist would call this self-destructive behavior!”

vernon doesn’t have time to deeply evaluate his behavior as ‘self-destructive’, because he spends the twenty minute drive to your place psyching himself up. that alone should be indicative of the issue with seeing you, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. instead, he bumps his music and drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

it’s not lost on him that he was able to make it to your place without directions, though he forgot how complicated the apartment parking lot was. by the time he finds a spot that he won’t get towed and/or fined in, he’s much later than when he said he’d be at your place.

vernon sends you a quick ‘here’ text before making his way towards the door to your apartment building. he presses the buzzer for your unit, and his pulse skyrockets. in the few seconds that it takes for you to answer, he spirals thinking of every negative possibility of your encounter. what if you really do hate him, like soonyoung said? and, if not, what if he sucks in bed? what if he says something stupid? what if you find out he’s a complete and utter loser?

“vernon?” your voice crackles through the intercom and shoots straight to fast beating heart, halting his mental spiral of doom, and putting him back in the moment. he’s nervous in a different way now. he’s so unsure of himself around you sometimes—which is definitely a sign that he should cut ties with you.

“y-yeah,” he clears his throat quickly, trying to cover up his shaky voice. “it’s me.” his finger nearly throbs in pain from how much pressure he’s putting on the buzzer.

with a loud pop, the door unlocks and vernon enters. he hikes the two stories to your apartment, and by the time he’s at your door he’s mildly winded from how fast he got up there. vernon stalls a few feet from your door to regain his breath (and confidence). he chews on his bottom lip for a second and glances down the hallway and considers making a run for it.

there isn’t much thought put into that, though, because his feet take him in the other direction towards your front door, and he’s raising his fist to send three soft knocks your way. vernon shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sighs, dropping his shoulders and rolling them back.

you pull the door open and his eyes snap down to you, and he swears his hearing goes out for a split second, because his face feels like it’s on fire and his muscles feel heavy. and then you smile at him, and he thinks he may melt into a puddle in front of your door. “vernon!” you squeal, laughing yourself onto him, legs wrapping around his waist and arms encircling around his neck. “you took forever.” you mumble, capturing his lips in a kiss that he’s been dreaming of for weeks.

vernon silently thanks the universe that he didn’t collapse when you attached yourself to him, and that he had enough sense to hold onto the bottoms of your thighs for support. “traffic,” he lies, walking the two of you into your apartment and kicking the door closed behind him.

he stops walking and the two of you make out for a few minutes. his nerves disappeared the moment you latched onto him. granted, hes a bit nervous, but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to pass out, or like he wants to make a run for it. “you look good, baby,” you purr once you pull back from his lips to really look at him. you run your hands through his short, brown hair and smile at him, and he decides right then and there that all of the pain and suffering you’ve put him through might be worth it, if you keep smiling at him like that.

untangling you legs from his waist, vernon helps set you down and lets his hands drag up your bare legs. your skin is soft like he remembers, and he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life rubbing and touching it. but your hands make use of pulling down his jacket zipper and subsequently helping him out of his coat, so he unfortunately has to pull his hands away from your thighs.

“have you been working out?” you question, setting his jacket on the back of one of your bar stools. vernon looks down at his own biceps and shrugs. “i lift sometimes, yeah,” he says. you walk back over to him and shamelessly feel him up. he’s still skinny, but there’s muscle in places you don’t necessarily remember him having.

“hmm,” is all you reply—it does a lot to cover up how badly you want to tear him out of his clothes. you grab his hand and lead him down the hallway to your bedroom.

“how’ve you been?” vernon asks. you giggle at his awkwardness and give him a look over you shoulder as you pull him into your bedroom.

“really great,” you push him lightly towards your bed, and crawl onto his lap, lips finding purchase on his neck. you grind down onto him as you suck a purple mark onto his neck. “what about you?” you ask in between kisses, voice slightly breathless.

“uh, fine,” vernon spits out, mind a bit hazy when you slip off of his lap and onto your knees between his legs. “better.” you smile at him sweetly, but your hands make quick work of unbuttoning his jeans. he helps you pull them down to his ankles, along with his underwear.

a soft whimper leaves you mouth at the sight of his semi-hard dick. you press your thighs together and reach forward to grab ahold of his member and start stroking his shaft. vernon looks down at you with parted lips; he feels like he’s in a dream, watching you on your knees below him. you’ve given him head before, but it was conditional. usually, when you felt guilty for something, or knew you made him upset you would suck him off. he tries to push the thoughts away, and succeeds when you wrap you lips around the tip and attempt to take all of him. “fuuuck,” he groans, gripping onto the edge of the bed.

vernon is embarrassed at how quickly you draw out loud moans from him just by massaging his balls as you work your mouth on him. he hasn’t been with anybody else in awhile—and he’s too embarrassed to ever admit that he’s good with just having you, even if he has to wait for you to call him.

“oh, fuck, y/n,” he whines, thighs tensing. he lets go of the mattress to gather your hair and wraps it around one of his hands. you moan against his crotch when he pulls, watery eyes flicking up to meet his own. spit gathers at the corners of your mouth and vernon knows this is an image he’ll never, ever forget. “shitshitshit!” his hips buck upwards and he expects you to pull your mouth off of him to use your hands to get him to his release, but you stay put.

it drives vernon crazy. he comes fast, and he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed because you swallow, and then keep sucking after the fact. he’s never seen you act like this, and you’re a bit shocked at your own behavior—you hadn’t realized you missed him that much.

“y/n,” he whimpers, chin falling against his chest. you take that as a sign that he’s about to pass out, and reluctantly pull your mouth off of him with a pop. a trail of spit mixed with cum follows his cock to your mouth, and it makes you want to give him another blow job, but he looks too spent.

“vernon,” you start, getting off of your knees. he manages to sit upright before falling backwards onto your bed.

“give me a minute,” he croaks. you smile and take a few seconds of your own to catch your breath before you undress completely and crawl onto the bed next to him. vernon opens his eyes and looks over at you. “i wanted to do that.” he whines, referring to getting you naked, and reaches out for you.

you crawl on top of him and settle on his abdomen. his hands moves to your waist and his eyes stray trained on your breasts. you lean down a bit, practically putting your boobs in his face. vernon leans forward and wraps his lips around one of your nipples. he shifts the two of you so he’s sitting up straight, thus shifting you down onto his crotch.

you can’t help but grind yourself against him as he plays with your breasts. he fondles the own that’s not in his mouth, and keeps his eyes on you. you moan softly above him, light little pants leaving your mouth that only encourage him. “nonie,” you whine, running your hands through his hair and gently tugging on the strands. “touch me. i want you to touch me.”

vernon pulls his mouth off of your breast and slides his hand that was on your waist up your spine. he grabs the back of your neck and pulls your mouth down to his own in a messy, heated kiss. he manages to flip the two of you over, propping himself up on an elbow and slipping his other hand between your legs.

“all for you,” you purr when he drags his fingers up your slit, a look of disbelief on his face at how wet you are. “need you, nonie. your fingers, mouth, all of it.” you whine, spreading your legs open for him. vernon liked how vocal you were about what you wanted from him. he wished you were as vocal about other aspects of your guys’ relationship, but he’ll take what he can get.

vernon dips two fingers inside of you, your arousal acting as a perfect lubricant. vernon kisses your neck and chest as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. his thumb presses on your clit and you moan out his name. “more, vernon,” you breathe, gripping onto his hair tightly. “fuck, i want you to fuck me vernon. can you fuck me?” you ask, clenching around his fingers.

his cock jumps at your tone of voice and request. “i can fuck you,” he rasps. he’d rather make you cum on his fingers first, but you wish is his command. he lifts up from you and pulls his shirt off. you rake your nails along his exposed abdomen, applying light pressure. you smirk up at him and he grabs your hand and kisses your palm. it’s much too intimate, but you can’t deny the butterflies it gives you.

“grab a condom,” you remind him, pointing to your nightstand when he grabs onto the base of his dick. he quickly moves to open the drawer, and he tries to ignore the photobooth strip of photos of you and some guy he’s never met is the first thing he sees. he pushes it out of the way and grabs a stray condom, and slams the drawer shut.

he rips open the package and rolls the condom on before grabbing your leg and throwing it over his shoulder and lining himself up. vernon pushes his hips forward and sinks the tip in. “ah!” you gasp at the delicious stretch. quiet as it’s kept, vernon has a big dick and he knows how to use it. it’s unfortunate that he’s hung and is so shy about it—sometimes you wish he’d call you to fuck, rather than you doing it all the time. “fuck, vernon, you’re so big.” his body flushes with heat and he keeps pushing forward.

you suck him in welcomingly. he fits inside of you like you were made to be stuffed by him. he fucks into with a steady rhythm, and each time he pushes inside a moan is pushed form your lungs. vernon can’t keep his own moans contained, moaning our curses with each thrust. it’s dizzying, how turned on he is by you. he feels like he can’t think about anything other than fucking you and staying like this until eternity. he gets the morbid thought that he’d be okay if he died like this, buried inside of you.

“fuck, right there baby! you’re so good to me, fuck!” you shriek, mouth falling open as you look at there the two of you connect. you get lost in watching him disappear inside of you, by the white ring that’s formed at the base of his dick. the sounds vibrate off of the walls; squelching and skin on skin nearly deafening. “fuck me, vernon!” you cry, hips raising to meet his own.

tears brim in your eyes when he pulls your leg from his shoulder and shoves it up to your chest, spreading you open wider and fucking into you at a different angle. “i m-missed you,” he chokes out, shifting his weight to a single arm so he can grope your chest.

“me too,” you pant, chest arching up into his. you chase his lips with your own, wanting to feel as close to him as possible. your mouths press together, but not in a kiss. you pant and moan harshly against each other, his hips rutting into you at a faster, less rhythmic pace.

“i-im close,” he whimpers, placing an open mouthed kiss on the corner of your lips. you whine out his name as he speeds up his pace, your arms sliding up his back. you dig your nails into his skin, definitely leaving scratches. “fuck, you’re perfect.” he whispers, eyes looking into yours.

you whimper and squeeze around him before your release comes crashing over you. “nonie!” you cry, clutching onto him like a life raft as he fucks you through your orgasm. his strokes lose rhythm completely and moments later he’s coming into the condom, stilling inside of you as he does. you almost wish he wasn’t wearing a condom, so you could feel him.

vernon drops on top of you, his arms too weak to hold himself up. you cling to him, hands running through his hair absentmindedly. you don’t mind the weight of him on you, and you especially don’t mind the fact that he’s still inside of you. you have a soft spot for vernon, even though it may not seem like it. he’s the nicest guy you’ve ever been with—much nicer than the guys you’re typically acquainted with—and he’s sweet to you, even when you don’t deserve it. you know you should probably let him go, free him of your games, but something in you won’t let you. and that same something won’t let you like him—love him—how he deserves.

“vernon,” you murmur, rubbing his back.

“hmm.”

“im hot, and you’re heavy,” you say with a soft giggle. he smiles into the sheets and lifts himself up and pulls himself out of you. both of you whimper pathetically at the loss of contact, and laugh at each other seconds later. he drops down beside you on the bed, rolling onto his back. you roll onto your stomach and rest your chin on his chest before resting on your cheek, and he wraps an arm around your waist.

vernon strokes your hair and keeps his eyes on you. if he was a cartoon, his heart would be beating out of his chest and hearts would be shooting out of his eyes.

“you’re staring,” you mutter, rubbing his side.

“because you’re pretty,” he says, hand sliding from your waist to your ass. you roll your eyes and sit up onto your knees and look down at him. you can’t contain the urge to smile or kiss him, so you do both. “you should go pee.” he mumbles, breaking the kiss.

“right,” you say, quickly getting off the bed. no other guy would remind you to pee after sex, but of course vernon does. every single time, too. you wish you could leave him alone.

vernon sits up and grabs his boxers. he pulls them on and stretches his arms above his head, sighing when he feels a pop in his shoulders. somewhere behind him, a phone buzzes once, then twice, then incessantly. he doesn’t know where his phone is, so he digs around in the bed until he finds the source, pulling out the phone from under a pillow. it’s definitely not his, so he feels sort of strange holding it as the name ‘seungcheol’ flashes across the screen.

“what are you doing with my phone?” you ask with an accusatory tone, eyebrows furrowed as you tie your robe.

“i couldn’t find mine, and it was ringing,” vernon says, holding it out to you. you snatch it out of his hand unnecessarily, ready to tell him to mind his business until you look down at the screen and see three texts and a missed call from a guy you’re seeing. it’s not super serious, but you feel bad for vernon having to see it.

“sorry,” you mutter, quickly typing out a response to seungcheol. you try to shove the guilt down as you set your phone down on your dresser. it’s awkward and tense, and you can feel him watching you as you mess around with things on your dresser.

glancing up, you catch his eyes in the mirror and sigh before turning around to face him. you crawl onto the bed next to him and sit on your knees. he won’t meet your eyes, so you try the only thing to bring him back to you.

you kiss his neck and run your hands across his chest. he doesn’t react so you pull your robe open and grab his hand, placing it on your chest and squeezing. “vernon,” you murmur, crawling into his lap. you kiss up his neck, to his jaw, and when you get to his mouth he pulls back.

it’s not his business at all, but he can’t hold back when he asks, “who was that?”

you bite your bottom lip and encircle your arms around your neck. you press your weight into his crotch and bite back a smile when he covers a groan with a throat clear. “he’s just a friend, nonie,” you lie, kissing his cheek. “you have me. all of me.”

he looks up at you with wide eyes, and you feel his cock twitch under your ass. he’s pathetic, and it’s never been more clear to him because he kisses you and palms your breast, pinching your nipple lightly and shoving off your robe. he knows he’s reaches new lows because he lets you push him flat onto the bed and pull his underwear down. when you sink down onto him—with no condom this time—he knows he’s fucked.

you ride him like your life depends on it, like him forgetting that seungcheol ever called is imperative to keeping this thing going between the two of you, because it is. you bring out all the stops, riding him on your toes and telling him things he definitely wants to hear, like how nobody feels better than him, and he’s the best you’ve ever had.

vernon leaves your apartment with clarity on one thing: he understands why his friends can’t stand you.

[sleepiexx]

Miscellaneous Valeria Garza Hc’s (including some x fem!reader content)

To get the creative juices flowing bc this Val draft I’m writing is going to be the death of me

Valeria hates men with a fiery passion. Years of having been a woman in the military only showed her how vile they are, now she refuses to put up with their shit.

Fully believes that if you want something done right, you have a woman do it.

Definitely treats women better than men, she has empathy for them that she just doesn’t feel for men.

Lesbian fs fs

With that, I don’t actually think her and Alejandro had a romance type thing, they definitely had some form of bond but I genuinely can’t see her with a man so I think it was more platonic

But tbh I think w the passionate hatred Alejandro immediately had for her, no hesitation whatsoever, they had a rivalry

And I think they’re character foils for each other. So similar (yet so different) that all they can see in each other is the things they hate about themselves.

(The way this has been in my drafts for like forever and now that season three is out they’re calling them two sides of the same coin)

Despite her hatred of men, she still has some issues with internalized misogyny and femininity

She’s just so used to having to prove herself in a male dominated field that it’s hard to let go of those things

Won’t wear dresses, have long nails (although that could just go w the whole wlw thing 🤭), or drink fruity drinks

But she refuses to judge other girls for those things, her internal misogyny stays geared toward herself and the standards she holds herself up to.

A lot of it just translates into her being more of a masc lesbian

Anyways

Big spoon, always. No debate. Will make empty threats if you try to fight her on it.

“I will suffocate you with a pillow if you don’t stop,”

Pulls you around by the loops in your jeans, shirt collar, necklace, basically whatever she can pull on to move you places she will

Bites

TLDR: she has cuteness aggression to the max and shows her love in the strangest ways

I think she’s somewhat tall, like 5’9 or 5’10

Muscular af, I just know that turtleneck is hiding a ripped ass body

Abt her time in the military and her current feelings on it

I think when she was in the military, she got up to the lieutenant rank. Especially with the way Alejandro said she led the ambush on the son of La Araña.

She either still has her dog tags hidden somewhere because she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of them, or she threw them as far as she could in a fit of rage

If you’re in the military, she fs tries to convince you to leave and join her

“I could treat you better than any of these men”

And she means it

She means everything she says, even when she’s joking she’s dead serious.

Especially when she tells you she’d kill for you

When she allows herself to love someone, she doesn’t half ass it. She loves with passion.

You know that you are so loved when you’re with her because she makes it abundantly clear.

Overall just a rlly good partner, I’m actually in love w her.

[radkindoffeminist]

It really annoys me when misogynists bring up the whole ‘why wouldn’t everyone just hire women if they can get away with paying everyone less’ because this is such a simplistic take on a complicated issue and doesn’t factor in the following

1) Places already do this anyway. And then they enforce pay secrecy so women are unable to talk about their wages

2) It’s not always about who is cheapest to hire - it is also about who is going to produce the better quality of work and who is going to fit into the team better. In a team dominated by men, who did they think is going to fit into the team better? Another man. In a team full of misogynists who devalue women’s work, who did they believe will do better quality work? A man. Yesterday, I was watching a video where a woman said that she met another woman who was in charge of a team and openly admitted that she would not hire a woman to be part of this team because it would cause too many issues because of sexual harassment claims. These are things people will consider when hiring.

3) It’s simplifying the issue down to ‘all women are paid less than all men in all fields across all levels’ which isn’t true. Some of the pay differences are as a result of women in the same fields doing the same jobs as men but paid less (point 1), but a lot of it comes down the the following two things:

Women are less likely to be promoted than their male colleagues which is the result of many factors including inherent misogyny (thinking women shouldn’t be in leadership, thinking their work is lower quality, etc), women being ‘less dedicated’ due to family commitments, and taking longer to have similar experience to male colleagues due to time off on maternity/raising children

Fields that are dominated by women are lower paid overall, even when comparing to jobs with a similar educational requirement. Teaching and nursing are both jobs which require degrees yet are some of the lowest paid public sector jobs. Female dominated cleaning jobs (eg: housekeeping) are lower paid than similar male-dominated jobs (eg: janitor). Labour seen as ‘women’s work’ is devalued and therefore paid less

4) Whenever we discuss these other factors, like mat leave and taking care of the children, it’s always seen as an ‘explanation’ for why women are paid less, rather than part of larger socio-economic issues leading to women being paid less. Literally saw so many things when I was younger about how it’s only like 2p/£1 rather than 23p/£1 or whatever because once you factored in all of these things above you’d find men and women in similar roles in similar fields are actually paid pretty evenly, without recognising how those reasons themselves are part of the problem. Women are pushed towards lower paid fields from a young age (teaching, nursing, care work, etc). Women are the ones who take months off on maternity leave while men might take two weeks. Women are the ones taking career breaks to look after the kids. Women are the ones working part time or flexible hours so they can look after their children. All of these things have negative impact on women’s income and they stem from misogyny. They shouldn’t be ignored in gender pay gays discussions or used to explain why the gender pay gays isn’t ‘real’.

[astermath]

theres like four i wanted to send but ill pick my favourite i guess... so "oh, sweetheart- come here.” with steve maybe?

the way I’m making all of these emotional as hell ajdkdk am I projecting a little? maybe! but that’s okay (I think). anyways ty for sending one in my dear! have a lovely day! ♡

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.3K

normal sized font below!

send in some touch starved prompts! ♡

You’re a hard worker. Always were. Whenever you were engaged in something, you gave it your all. College was no exception to this rule either. Your parents has sacrificed a lot for you to be able to go, and being a girl, you felt like you had to prove to everyone that you too were worthy of a higher education. Especially in a male dominated field like bioscience.

You’d spent ages putting together a thesis about your research. Steve was sure you were at your desk more than your bed, and as your boyfriend, that concerned him. But he knew better than to bother you with overbearing comments and concerns, so he tried his best to be supportive instead. Stopped by your desk whenever he could to bring you a snack or some tea, remind you to drink water, and always saying how proud he was and how you’d knock that presentation out of the park.

So when the day of your presentation came, he was almost as nervous as you were. Even during his shift at work, he had to stop himself from texting you to ask how it went.

So when he came home and called out for you, but didn’t get an immediate response, he was a bit worried to say the least. Usually he’d already be met with a hug or a kiss without even being fully through the front door yet. Now the apartment feels eerily quiet, not even the sound of a shower running or the stove being on. It feels wrong. Off.

"Honey?" He calls out, his nerves starting to set in. His socked feet padded over the wooden planks of your Indianapolis apartment, making his way over to your shared bedroom. The door was closed, but he could see a sliver of light peeking through below it. He held his breath for just a moment, and soon enough, he heard you sniffling and sobbing quietly.

"Baby, you in there?" You both know he knows you're there already, but he wants you to know you can have a moment alone if you feel like it. As out of character as that would be, since you always shared your toughest moments with one another.

He goes quiet again, hearing the bed creak slightly, and your slow, shuffling footsteps over to the door. He sees your shadow disrupt the light underneath, and the way you're taking your time worries him even more. Usually, the two of you would be in each other's arms already, slumped onto the couch and watching whatever was on TV.

The knob turns and the door opens just enough to reveal you standing there. You're already in pajamas, wearing one of his old high school shirts. He'd find it endearing, if he wasn't so overtaken with concern for you. Your head is dropped, so he can't see your face, but your hair looks messy. He's guessing you've been in bed since you got home a little over an hour ago.

"Hey," He steps into the bedroom with you, "how'd it uh-- how'd it go?" He regrets asking as soon as those words leave his mouth. Clearly it didn't go well, and now it just sounds like he's rubbing it in.

Instead of answering, you look up at him, and his heart aches at the sight of you. Your nose is red and your eyes are watery and puffy from crying the entire time. You look a mess, a sad, cute, adorable mess, but he feels so bad for you.

“Oh, sweetheart… Come here.” He opens up his arms and you practically crash into them, your face hiding into the crook of his neck as you start sobbing into his shoulder again.

You clutch onto him, your hands balling up the fabric of his shirt like he’s going to fade away if you don’t. Your body shakes with every sob that comes from you, it’s almost enough to make him start crying too.

He remains quiet, rubbing your back and holding you tight, his face resting against the top of your head. He presses a kiss to your hair every now and then, his way of saying “I’m so sorry this is happening right now, I’m so sorry this is all I can do”.

He lets you cry, because he knows it’s exactly what you need to do right now. Sometimes you just need to feel, not have to explain or think too much, that can come after.

You mumble something into his shoulder after seemingly having composed yourself a little again.

"What's that baby?" He pulls back a little, arms still around you.

"I fucked up so bad..." You look up at him, puppy eyes still halfway brimming with tears.

"What makes you say that?" He gently rubs over your upper arm. His hand his warm and soft, and it eases your mind just a little.

"I was such a mess... I-- I didn't even get to say or explain half the things I wanted to, and-- and I just couldn't talk. Like my body wouldn't let me."

Steve knows about your anxiety, and your fear of public speaking. You'd practiced so many times in front of him, but that was easy, you trusted him more than anybody else. Then you tried it in front of Robin and Eddie, which was a little harder, but they were your friends too. Presenting something you'd spent the last three months slaving away on was an entirely different thing, and to be honest, your boyfriend was already proud of you for willing to do it at all. Your grades on the thesis and assignment themselves were well past good enough to pass the semester, but you insisted on presenting it. That's how much you cared about it.

"No one's gonna take me serious Steve... Half of the people in my course think I shouldn't be there anyways, I know the way they talk about me--"

"Well they're fucking stupid. They don't know what they're talking about, and they don't know you." He interrupts you before you can psych yourself out even more. "They don't know about how passionate you are about your research, or how amazingly smart you are." His thumb strokes gently over your cheek, and his gaze is so loving you swear his pupils turn into little hearts.

"They don't know you love to sing while you cook, how caring you are, how you seem to bring out the best in everyone, including me."

You can't help but crack a smile now. You're sad, heartbroken, even, but never immune to your sweet boyfriend's charm. The world could be falling apart, and he'd still find a way to warm your heart.

"You're going to be okay, alright?"

"How can you be so sure?"

He pauses for a moment. "Because if they fail you, I'm personally fighting every single one of your professors."

You giggle, and a sense of pride instantly rushes through him. Still got it.

"Steve, no!" You playfully push into his shoulder. "Not Mr. Collister, he always gives us fun snail facts at the end of every class!"

"Okay, okay, everyone besides Mr. Collister. That a good compromise?"

"How about you don't fight anyone, huh?" Your sadness has seemed to flee your mind entirely. At least for the time being.

"Well, I probably won't have to, there's no way they're not letting my gorgeous," he pecks your lips softly, "brilliant," peck, "amazing," peck, "girlfriend pass the semester."

You giggle with every kiss, and wind your arms around him before he can pull away again, your lips meeting again, but for longer this time. He hums softly into it, satisfied that you're feeling better.

"Hmm, I love you Stevie."

"Love you too hun. How 'bout I cook your favorite dinner tonight, huh?"

"Can we maybe order takeout instead?"

He grins. "Anything for you, sweet girl."

@palmtreesx3 @inkluvs

[chattaboochel]

Fluid Hearts | Chapter 1

My Ego Awakens

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, smut (eventually) , harem x afabOC.

Words: 5.4k

Tags (Open): @hellothere9597

“Anri, come look at this”, Anri wasn’t expecting Ego of all people wanting to show her something out of his own volition.

“What is it- who’s this?”, Ego had already started playing footage from which he collected earlier. “A diamond in the rough.”

Anri watches as the video displays a black and blue haired soccer player, their physical build didn’t look too much out of the ordinary, noting their pierced ears and a nasty looking scar that cut directly into their brow.

“Why are you-” Anri stops her self as she watches the mystery player being to display exceptional abilities on the soccer field, the woman specifically observing how they moved their body and utilised it to their advantage. Each of their movements were fluid, graceful, but strong and controlled. “Incredible. Those plays, their form! Wow!”

“Potential that is wasted within that mediocre team.” Ego gruffly states, his hands in front of him as he tosses Anri the players file.

“Hisaya Sora, only 17 and already so talented-“

“Hisaya Kazumas youngest daughter.”

Anri knew that name, having to brush up on many different star athletes for this job. “Kazumas child? No wonder they’re so- wait… daughter?”

“It took you that long to figure it out?”

“What- I didn’t even think-“

“That’s because you have the brain of a simpleton Anri.”

“Ugh you’re impossible. Where did you even get this footage anyway.”

Ego barely acknowledges Anri, still going over Soras impressive performance in the video, especially when she seemlessly steals the ball off a mid fielder , her form sliding to the ground in one movement and she gets herself back up in the next moment. “Her coach Tak- whatever his name is , records each of her games , apparently she watches each video to asses her skills.”

“And he just gave it to you?”

“With some incentive.”

“Jeez…”, She sweat drops, the less she knew the better. “but this kid is certainly something-“

“I want a Bluelock invitation sent to her, today.”

“What?”, she gasps, pausing the video to look at the unphased Ego. “I agree this girl is talented but with all due respect , the program is for us to create the next male striker. She can’t participate, it would be a breach of the rules.”

“This is why our country has never excelled within the bracket, we follow the rules, procedures. How can we expect to dominate the other teams if we just stick to what we know? Where’s the risk that brings the highest of all rewards.”

“But sir, the board surely will not approve-“

“I believe an exception can be made.”

~

“Hey sis I’m home!”

Sora kicked open open the door with an exhausted sigh, trudging through her shared apartment. She lazily chucked her sports bag across from her with thunk.

“Yiri!!! Where are-”

Hisaya Yiri, Soras older sister and current guardian. Yiri made her living writing short stories for a nearby library so most of her time is spent fussing over her stories in her work tablet.

Yiri stumbles out the kitchen with a huff, her long black hair tied loosely in a low pony, “You know using the door knob instead of kicking the door open is just as effect- and for the last time don’t just leave your bag there!”

“What’s wrong with there?”

Yiri scowls, adjusting her glasses before crossing her arms. “Does this look like your bedroom?”

“No I’m not blind sis, it’s the living room.”, she brushes her off, flopping onto one of the couches. “Exactly, therefore your bag should maybe go , oh I don’t know, in your room?”

“Yeah probably.” Sora moves her hand around , looking for the remote of their tv but finding something else instead. “Hey isn’t this your tablet? That’s not in ,you know, your room?”

Sora smirked as she held up her sisters work device that she just saved from the dark casims that existed between her couch. Yiri mumbled something under her breath, hiding her embarrassment. “You- ugh, you get this one and only this one okay.”

“Yeah I know.” Sora hands over Yiris prized tablet before she popped a blood vessel, trying not to enjoy her sisters frustration too much.

“I hate you.”

“Yeah yeah”, Sora laughs and wraps her arm around her sister, giving her a brief side hug before resuming her position on the couch.

Yiri softly smiled at her, no matter how much Sora aggravated her to no end, she loved her. “Oh ! A letter came for you in the mail, I left it up in your room. Now go wash up before dinner, you fucking reek.”

“Oh thanks. It’s not like I didn’t just come from a game.” Sora pretends she doesn’t she the way Yiris face contorts at the mention of soccer, choosing to roll her eyes as she starts rushing up the stairs.

“Sora.”

“What?”

Yiri groans, pointing to the discarded bag. “Forgetting something?”

~

Sora had been staring at the letter for 20 minuets, having to re read each sentence over and over again to make sure she hadn’t gone mad.

The Japanese Football Union.

‘You’ve been selected to become a certified athlete.’

She couldn’t believe it, that she had been sought out for her skills. Her hands flick through not one but two letters.

Dear Hisaya Sora.

As you can no doubt see you have been selected to take place in a very special program that I am heading myself.

This program will finally create a team worthy of entering and destroying the competition at the World Cup.

I sent you this invitation despite the fact you are one of the opposite sex, your potential is wasted in that team you play in and if you’re not completely idiotic you can too.

I’m taking a chance on you brat, don’t squander it.

Ego Jinpachi.

‘This would make everything worth it, everything dad drilled into me, every day in moms studio. It wouldn’t be for nothing.’

Fire lit within Soras heart, excitement and nervousness ignited with her body. Whoever Jinpachi was she promised that she would not squander this chance.

She just had to somehow break it to her sister…

~

Yiri didn’t come to see her off that morning, Soras older sister had a pension for the dramatics. Last nights argument made that clear.

‘I see him every time you play Sora! I just can’t support this! I won’t!’

‘You hate our father more than your care about your own sister!’

But she wouldn’t allow her sister to get in the way of this dream, in that fact maybe she was more like her father than she thought.

~

Sora wasn’t one for formal wear but it sure beat wearing a dumbass skirt. she did somewhat stick to her uniform by wearing the dress shirt and pants but forgoes the blazer to dawn her favourite black zip up hoodie.

She choose to keep her hood up , force of habit, tucking her hands into her jacket pocket as she rounded the corner of a building. She catches a look at two figures talking by the Japanese Football union sign.

‘That’s the one.’

Sora observes the two boys in particular, chatting with some familiarity but she deduced there wasn’t much of a sense of comraderie between the two. Aqqaintances at best.

“If we were on the same team you’d hit some amazing passes to me I’m sure.”

“O-Oh! Thank you.” The boy blushes at the compliment from the bright eyed boy. ‘His words are so condescending, like he can’t do more than pass to him…’ Sora frowned at the blonde kid, throwing her hood back as she walked toward them.

“Guessing you two got the letter right?”

The boys perk up at her voice, darting surprised looks at Sora as she leant against the wall beside the door of the building. “Uh hi!”

“Hey there, you too huh?”, Sora nods at the blonde, waiting for the other boy to calm down from his shock so could form a sentence. “Y-Yeah kinda crazy right?”, the black haired boy responds, nervously scratching the back of his head.

“Tell me about it. You mind me third wheeling with you guys?”

“Hey the more the merrier right? Im Kira Ryosuke. That’s Yoichi Isagi.”

“Hey.” He says with a little wave.

‘Hm cute.’ Sora looks at Isagi with a newfound interest as her fingers fiddle her piercings.

“Hisaya Sora but just call me Sora.”

Isagi takes in Soras appreance, short dark and rich black hair, the ends faded into a bright fluorescent blue, matching their clear crystal eyes. Her ears were decorated with black lined studs and rings, he wondered if Sora actually kept them in while they played soccer.

He noticed a particularly mean looking scar that was carved into their eyebrow, ending just atop Soras eye.

She could feel Isagi looking at her most prominent scar, she could always tell when someone was, she swallows an uncomfortable breath , looking away whilst clearing her throat .

‘Hisaya Sora, where have I heard that name before? Hisaya…… Hisaya….’ Isagi contemplates before it suddenly dawns on him, his mind replaying the days when he was a kid, watching the great legends of his favourite sport. ‘Hisaya Kazuma! Japans star player of the 90’s but that would mean this guy is his son.’

“Wait, that would make you related to Hisaya Kazuma! ”, Kira couldn’t contain his excitement, to think someone of Sora Hisayas class would be in a program with him, he thought it was an honour. “No way, You’re his son!”

Hisaya only nods in acknowledgment, her face stoic at this continued talk of her now deceased father. Isagis eyes seem to pick up on that, even though he’d love to grill the child of the great Kazuma Hisaya, one of his favourite athletes, he chose not to.

Sora appreciated Isagis tact, something Kira seemed to lack.

“He was incredible, no one could top him on the field but you already know that! You must be a prodigal son”

‘Hisayas son’

Thats what he was right? for some reason that didn’t feel right to Isagi. But what else could he be?

“Good thing my sister didn’t hear you say that. Now let’s go already, no one’s becoming a certified athlete by standing out here, freezing our asses off.”

“Shall we?” Kira extends his arm in an attempt to be curtious , Sora had to contain her eye roll .

‘Maybe I’m looking too far into it’, Isagi puts away his thoughts for now, following Kira and Hisaya toward the building. “Yes, please.”

“Oh c’mon, we don’t have to be all weird and formal with each other. I’m glad we met.”

Isagis cheeks lightly flush. “Me too.. and you as well Hisaya!”

“It’s Sora dimwit”, she flicks his forehead playfully with a giggle, Isagi gasps and rubbing his head with a shy grin. “R-Right!”

~

“They really grabbed anyone with a pulse for this.” The room was packed with people and they possibly had the weirdest haircuts Sora had ever seen, and here she thought she may have stood out.

“Yeah, I see some I recognise too.” Kira points out the few he knew, though Sora found herself not paying much mind to him. Kira’s presence was slowly starting to irk the girl, his impression outside was less than stellar.

‘Couldn’t hurt the scout out the competition I guess’ She recognised a few players, some she’d seen at school when they would visit for games, others she’d only seen online watching other tournaments but she couldn’t put names to the faces. They were a pain to remember.

‘Heh I sound like-’ She spots both a white head of hair and a purple one off in the distance. ‘Ha! Speak of the devil’ Sora wouldn’t mistake Seishiro Nagi and Mikage Reo for anyone else.

After all , she and Reo were childhood friends, curtesy of their mothers. She met Nagi in highschool and the three of them were inseparable. You’d never see one without the other two far behind.

After Soras father died, Yiri made the executive decision to move away so that meant transferring schools. Sora begged her sister to stay but her sister refused to budge, and there wasn’t much she could do against her legal guardian as a minor.

That didn’t stop her from keeping in contact with the two of them.

‘I should’ve figured those two would get an invite’, She thought with a quick laugh, ready to walk over to the duo before a voice cuts in.

“And test, test. Congratulations and welcome diamonds in the rough.” A spotlight shines on the stage ahead, revealing a man with black rimed glasses and a bowl cut to match. “You are the under 18 strikers who have been chosen by my arbitrary advice and decision making. And I am Jinpachi Ego, I am the man who was hired to ensure Japan’s victory at the World Cup.”

‘So this is Ego.’ His mannerisms in the letter fit him perfectly.

“Who is he? Do you guys know him?”, Isagi shakes his head. “No clue. What about you Sora?”

“Only know the name.” It wasn’t a lie but she figured telling the two that she had been specifically scouted by Jinpachi wouldn’t do her any favours.

“Japan needs one thing and that’s the birth of a revolutionary striker. I’ll be running a few experiments to figure out which one of you 300 is capable of becoming the single best striker of the world.”

“Here at this facility, Bluelock”, the screen behind Ego changes, warping into the insides of the facility Jinpachi had just mentioned. “Starting today, you will all live there together and undergo the specialised training that I have devised. You won’t be allowed to go home and your previous soccer careers will be but a mere memory.”

“But I promise you this, if you fight hard enough, if you become the last man standing out of the 300 candidates then you be the best striker in the world.”

Sora crossed her arms in silence, noting the varied groups of nervous men in the room while she was completely calm, was enough for her to smirk ever so slightly.

“Hey, uh, excuse me? Sorry but I can’t agree to these conditions.”, Soras brows perk up at Kira, Ego himself was glaring down at the young boy. “All of us have teams that we’ve given our loyalty too and some of us have nationals coming up and you want me to abandon my team for what huh?”

Echos of other likeminded idiots sound out from the room, aggreeing with Mr bright eyes. Sora scoffed, leaning her arm on Isagis shoulder, lowering her voice so only he could hear. “Hey Isagi, is your friend always such a Boy Scout?”

“What? I-I guess?”, the heat of her breath on his his ear nearly made him topple over, the blush returning to his cheeks. “To be honest I don’t actually know him that well.”

“Figures.” She hummed in his ear, founding his shoulder rather comfy.

“Lock off! If anyone wants to leave them go! Are your perspectives really that limited? You’d rather return to high schools backwater competitions than be the worlds best striker?!”

“The future of Japan is in your hands? It’s enough to make a man weep”, Sora could’ve sworn she saw the man twitch before redirecting himself to the centre of the stage. “But let me ask you this. What is soccer? Is it about 11 players working together? The bonds that you forge? Sacrifice? Fighting for your team mates? That kind of thinking is why this countries game as remained weak!”

“Soccer is about scoring more goals than your opponent does”. Soras heart thumps louder, “Whoever scores the most is the best, end of story. If you just want a fun game with your pals then lock off.”

“This guy is crazy”, Isagi muttered into Soras ear, who contained a giggle, his breath tickling her skin. “But he’s passionate at least, unlike some of the others”, Sora detached herself from Isagi to point at Kira as he continued to make a fool out of himself.

“Those players are my heros!! Now take it back!”

This sent Ego down a spiral, the screen flashing between 3 of the greatest players throughout the world. “And of course Kazuma Hisaya said it himself. Forget the others on your team, in the end it’s you who gets them to victory.”

Soras fists clenched at the blown out picture of her father in his glory days, even back then he didn’t care about anything else other than himself.

Isagi said nothing but put his hand on her shoulder. “Real hero my father was huh.” She muttered angrilly, thinking that she was starting to sound like her sister. Isagi beginning to understand why the girl insisted on being called Sora over her last name.

“You can’t be Japan’s greatest striker without first being the biggest egoist.”, Isagis grip on Soras shoulder tightened, feeling something with him stir. Sora felt it too.

‘His words, could they be true? Is that why I havnt progressed any further than just nationals?’ Soras heart thudded in her chest again, harder and louder.

“Now pass through and be transformed, discard comman sense and remember when you’re out on the field you’re a star.”

“Nothing should bring your more joy than your own goals”, Soras breath hitched, remembering each time she has scored a goal, how her body felt like it was on fire. Opposed to when ever she had to give up the ball for a team mate to score, she would be cold, something in her would thrash in her against it, wanting to push onward, to Make…. The …. Shot.

But she wouldn’t, her coach would say it was greedy to go out on her own and not rely on her team mates so she would play along, and pass.

‘Is that what I was doing? Stamping out my own ego for others?‘

“Live only for that glorious moment and if you can’t… then you’re no striker at all!”

Isagi ran head first, eyes blazing with a new fond determination. ‘I am a striker!’

Sora laughs , her tongue glides over her teeth before sprinting off after Isagi, her pronounced canines on show.

The commotion behind her didn’t matter, for she would become one of the greatest strikers in Japan no… the world!

Maybe for the first time in her life, she choose to give in to her ego and she had never felt more free.

~

‘Man this suit is fucking skin tight, and the binder doesn’t help at all.’

Sora hand goes to her now compressed chest under suit, feeling the fabric that bound her breast down to appear flat chested.

She knew she’d have to go through with this when she came here, she only wished the damn thing wasn’t so uncomfortable.

Luckily she wasn’t gifted with the most voluptuous breasts but without the binder, it definitely would’ve been obvious that Sora was in fact a woman.

Her fingers play at the collar of her the top, taking a quick glance at her arm to see the numbers 292 and the letter Z under it plastered on the fabric.

‘Must be our ranks, at least I’m not all the way at the bottom’,

Readjusting her clothes in her arms before she passed a door with the letter Z printed on it in blue, with her hands full she used her leg to kick it open.

‘Can already hear Yiri in my ear for that one’ she thought with a sad sigh, already missing her dotting big sister, even after their argument.

“Hey is that you Sora?”

“Isagi!”, Yoichis face let Sora forget about her home life for a moment as she jogged over, happy to see someone she was familiar with. “Looks like we’re stuck with eachother a bit longer huh?” She raises her hand up and Isagi laughs, smiling gratefully as his hand clasps over hers. “Yeah guess so.”

“Hope you two havnt forgotten about me.”

“Oh hey Kira.” Sora just couldn’t place why Kira irked her so much but she knew that her good mood already started to sour with Mr Boy Scout in the same room. “I’m glad you two are here, I know someone at least.”

Isagi nods. “You read my mind haha ah!-“ a shirt comes flying into Isagis face. “Didn’t see you there”, Sora sees the perpetrator, though the guy is hard to miss with his height, insanely muscular build and with hair as bright as a sunset. “My bad.”

“It was just an accident, I hope-” Isagi goes to give the shirt back, not noticing the sleeping soul on the ground. “Hey Isagi? you might wanna look down.”

“Sora what are you- huh?” He jumps away with start, finally noticing the guy passed out on the floor.

“Hey~ stop hogging the ball and pass it to me”,

‘He’s even dreaming about Soccer’, Sora tilted her head in wonder, going as far as to kneel down and touch the bob cut boys cheek with her finger.

Poke, poke.

Still asleep. ‘Man he’s like Nagi when he’s sleeping. Adorable like him too.’

“Uh Sora? Arent you supposed to have changed in here?” Kira asks the girl who’s still watching the sleepy boy on the ground. “Changed on my way here, figured it would be faster.”

“You changed out in the hall? Where there’s cameras? ”, the orange boy asked this time, staring at Sora as if she had 3 heads. “Is that a problem buff boy?”

“Jeez, you have no shame.”, turning around with his back facing her. “Not really no.” Sora , without taking her eyes off whoever the sleeping boy was, tossed her clothes behind her, hearing the fabric hit the orange boys toned back. He glared at Sora but she was still occupied with the sleeping boy, still poking him to see if she could wake him up.

Begrudgingly he picked up Soras clothes, tossing them in a locker as he clearly wasn’t going to. ‘What a child’ he thought with scoff.

“Hey!! You’re Ryonoske Kira!!!! Wow I can’t believe it.” Kira shyly shakes the bold boy hand who looks at him with stars in his eyes. “Y-Yeah it is.”

“Oh look another boy to join the Kira kiss ass club.” Sora chirps out, not caring that Kira threw her a dejected look her way. The bald boy didn’t seem to take it as insult as he looks at both Isagi and Sora with a goofy smile, waving his hand. “Nice to meet you! I’m Gurimu Igarashi!”

“Yeah, hey.”

“Yo.” Sora gave a little salute with her hand, half listening about how apparently Igarashi is a monk or from a family of them. The only thing Sora found interest in was the numbers on his his shirt sleeve.

300. Rock bottom.

‘I shouldn’t have to worry about him then’

“Are you finished changing? My little diamonds in the rough.” Close to the ceiling was a giant TV, Egos face now plastered on it, looking over everyone in the room. “Think of the players you’re sharing this place your roommates and also your rivals.”

Ego continues to explain the ranking system, Isagi now begins to notice that he is unfortunately ranked at 299.

‘I’m the second worst player here?!’ Isagi dispaurs, more so when sees that even Sora is sitting at a higher rank than he is.

“The top 5 will get to play in a special game six months from now. These athletes will be registered as forwards at the U20 World Cup.”

Gasps go around the room, that opportunity is a dream for each of these players.

‘Where’s the catch?’ Sora brought her hand to chin, suspecting something else at play, nothing like this is ever given out for free.

“Additionally those here who loose at Bluelock, firefight the right to ever represent Japan.”

“That would be the catch.” Sora not bothering to keep that one to herself, listening to Ego prattle on, before a cunning look emerges from his eyes.

“Let’s play a game of tag shall we?”

A ball drops down landing a few feet awat from Isagi. “You have 136 seconds, whoever is struck by the ball is ‘it’ whoever is ‘it’ when time runs out will be locked off.”

‘So don’t be caught it last, noted.’

“Also. No using your hands~”

The screen flashes away as the game begins, the system deeming Igarashi Gurimu as the first one to be it.

“What? This isn’t how you play soccer”, some boy remarks in the room, Sora found herself eye rolling at the level of idiocy.

‘There’s factors of soccer here, but this game isn’t about that. He’s testing our egos.’

“I gotta be it first because I’m ranked the lowest?” The boy monk grumbles, resting his foot on the ball. “Alright let’s do this! No hard feelings anyone!”

More protests, Sora shook her head, stretching out her arms and legs. “Just play the game.” Most of the boys looked at her with shock, partially thinking how insane this girl was.

“If I’m kicked out I’ll be a monk for the rest of my life!” That’s all it took for the boy to start sprinting, dribbling the ball on his feet as the group dispirsts.

Sora separates from Isagi, instead finding herself behind Igarashi, figuring the monk would go after players closer to his own rank. “Sorry Isagi!”

‘Figures’ He shoots the ball but Isagi and the others with him manage to dodge, the ball rebounding off the white wall back to him.

“He’s not going to get anywhere unless he actually starts using his head.” Sora mutters to herself but not expecting the boy beside her her would hear and let alone recognise her.

“Sora? The hell are doing here?”

She turned to see her classmate of all people, Hyoma Chigiri, a flabbergasted look on his face. Now there’s a surprise that’s for sure.

“Hey Chigiri”, she winks, sticking her tongue out cheekily as he continues to look at her , baffled. “But how are you-“

With everyone distracted, Sora sprinted over to him, pressing her finger to his lips. “Talk after kay? Better survive the next minute or so Princess.”

His face flushed slightly but he nods, knowing he’ll get his explanation afterwards.

Sora decides to run back to Isagis side, hearing Kira ramble about how ridiculous the current setup is. “Sora!”

She waves quickly at Isagi before smacking the back of her hand on Kira’s chest. “Quit the preaching and focus. You really wanna find out what happens if you end up loosing?”

Kira didn’t expect Sora to lecture him so harshly but she didn’t give him a moment longer, turning her keen eye on Igarshi fumbling around the room, failing to hit anyone.

“I can’t hit anyone!”, he sees the boy from before still sleeping and it seemed finally he caught a break. “It’s a cheap shot but so what. You’re it!”

Hisaya watched as the bob cut leaps up into a handstand, kicking Igarshi in the face and away from him, blood flying from his nose. “Hey! That’s a foul! If this was a real game you would be red carded-“

“He said only hand balls were against the rules didn’t he?” He rubs his eyes, still somewhat half asleep. “Good morning.”

Isagi watched the encounter too. ‘Man what’s with this guy?’

He turned to Sora to gauge her opinion on him but he saw her smile, his eyes glinting with intrigue. ‘Whatever it is , has caught Soras interest big time.’

“Hey. I’m not a fan of playing dirty alright. I want a clean game.”, the brute from before clasps his hand on bob cuts shoulder, glaring down at him.

“Aye, aye Mr strait laced.”

Sora jogged over in front of ‘mr strait laced’, hands on hips. “Maybe you should be lecturing that one-“

Unbenoyst to the others, Igarshi took advantage of the distraction aiming his shoot at Sora who had turned her back on him. He had this in the bag, he knew it. ‘He so thin, getting him should be a piece of cake!’

The ball flew , seeming like it would hit Sora right on but the room goes out in gasps as they see the girl throw her head back as her body falling into a back bend. The ball barely missed her, instead hitting the boy behind her square in the face.

“Woah…”

“How the fuck did he do that?”

Kira awed beside Isagi, who nodded too, witnessing Soras impressive control of their body had him too in awestruck. ‘I’ve never seen anything like that before! Kazuma was known for his more brute type of playing style so there’s no way Sora learned that from his dad.’

“Left yourself open! Amen”, monk boy pretends that was his plan was to hit ‘ Kunigami’ in the first place, his confidence needed a severe reality check Sora thought.

With only a minuet left, Kunigami Rensuke had been declared ‘it’. “You bastard! I’m going to destroy you!!!!!”

He wastes so time to take his shot, unsurprisingly Igarshi sticks to his dirty tactics and holds Isagi in front of him, blocking his body as Kunigami shot reigns in, slamming into Isagis stomach so hard it sent him backwards to the ground.

“Sorry, wrong person…”

Sora winced, seeing Isagi almost choke on his spit. “You alright Isagi?!”, he pants, looking up at the clock, he only had 59 seconds to hit someone. ‘Things can’t end here, I won’t let them’

He kicks the ball, failing to hit anyone head on as the time continued to tick against him. “C’mon Isagi….”

Bob cut hears Soras quiet encouragements for Isagi, an idea coming to mind. He throws himself on Kunigamis back, giggling as he uses his limbs to hold him in places just as Isagi was chasing after Igarshi.

“Come on! Nows your chance! Wouldn’t want Blueberry’s cheers to wasted would you?”

‘Blueberry?’ Both Isagi and Sora thought simultaneously. ‘Is he supposed to be referring to me?’ She deadpans at Bachira who only grinned.

‘Wait, Sora was cheering for me?’ He looks at him and Sora shyly smiles, blushing slightly.

The moment is broken by Kunigami throwing Bachira off his back, crashing down onto Igarshi. Sora whistles. “Damn he’s strong.”

“Well that hurt hehe”, he said as if he hadn’t gotten hurt at all, still smiling as he found this whole situation amusing.

“Quit laughing and G-get off me!”, Igarshi goes to stand but his leg shakes, his hand going to his leg as he feels pain circling around his ankle. “Sprained it… w-wait. Time out.”

Everyone in the room knew he was done for, Isagi would take the shot and the time would finish with Igarshi as the one it and first one to leave.

“Isagi!!”, Kira yells out from his safe spot. “Hit him now! Take the shot!” Sora scoffed, ‘So much for that idealism. What a phoney.”

25 seconds remained and Isagi had yet to make the shot, Igarshi scrambling to get away from him. “Hey… hold on. Stay back I mean it! I don’t want to go out like this! It isn’t fair!”

Isagi looked at him as if he was prey, ready to be devoured after a long chase, the sweat dripped from his body.

‘If I shoot then this guys soccer career is over. No this is about survival, that’s how blue lock works. Making my dream come true means destroying someone else’s, no other way around it!’

20 seconds and time was in a stand still, Sora too was starting yo get nervous. ‘What is he doing ? Won’t he make the shot?’

“Thats not right… in order to change, I need to be something I’m not. I came here to turn things around. To become the best in the world!”

‘Unless I beat someone stronger than me, that won’t happen!’

She could see it, swirling in his eyes , like a flame burning within him. ‘He won’t settle for mediocrity…Heh, now we’re talking Isagi!’

Sora chuckled, watching Isagi turn away, facing the sleep boy who now pointed at him, matching Soras grin. “I like you. You’re right, you wanna beat someone?”

He steals the ball straight out from Isagi, the screen changing to show the name Meguru Bachira, rank 290. “Then it should be the strongest player.”

“W-What? Me!”

Bachira chuckled darkly, watching Kira try to escape him but he wouldn’t let him. “Hey blueberry! You want in on this too right?”

Sora gasps slightly, no realising she had followed Bachira closely after he stole the ball, but her excitement took over her suprise. She doesn’t say a word, only winks at him, speeding ahead as Bachira dribbled onward, keeping Kira’s attention on him.

Bachira sees Sora reach the wall, shooting the ball at Kira who he knew would dodge. Sora uses the wall as leverage and kicks off it, her body turning just as her mother taught her and her foot reaches the ball, sending it back to Bachira.

He sees the ball fly over him, he manipulates his body down like before, making sure his foot hits the ball back toward Isagi who Kira had foolishly ran towards.

Mere seconds remained but that was enough time for Isagi to kick the ball once more, and it hit its mark, flying into Kira’s face, marking him as the last one to be ‘it’ just as the time runs out.

Masterlist | 0.5 | 01 | 02 | 03 |

[warmhappycat]

My Hagrid post is getting notes again, so to be clear, J. K. Rowling is a bigot and she’s wrong. Trans men are men. Trans women are women. Non-binary people are non-binary. None of the things she’s fearmongering about are actual problems.

Trans women are not assaulting cis women in women’s-only spaces, nor are cis men pretending to be trans women in order to assault women in women’s only spaces.

Trans athletes at the elite level are very rare, and not sweeping the field the way JK implies, probably because once someone has been on hormones long enough it does indeed change their body. Also why would any man pretend to be trans in order to (attempt to) dominate women’s sports? He’d make more money and get more famous as a bottom of the barrel male athlete than a best in the world female athlete (Citation: The US Women’s Soccer Team). Additionally, the vast majority of trans athletes being attacked by this shit are not elite, they’re just 8 year olds who wanted to play soccer or whatever. Who cares.

No one is trAnSiNg the youth. Many people, notably JKR, are “cissing” the youth, providing us with pretty good evidence that that doesn’t work anyway.

No one is doing surgery on the genitals of small children (unless, of course, they’re intersex children, but JKR has been weirdly silent about that! Hmm!! Wonder why!!!). We have data on this. It’s not happening. Shut up about it.

Puberty blockers are safe and reversible. The bone density thing is well within the normal range of side effects that we all accept all the time for drugs that we need, including for children.

It may be true that JKR is personally triggered by the presence of someone she considers male in a women’s-only space, but (1) her considerations are probably pretty bigoted, and (2) she doesn’t get to make that everyone else’s problem. Many of us are triggered by all sorts of things; we don’t get to make other people’s lives miserable about it.

Drag queens are not inherently sexual or inappropriate for children, and honestly fit very well among the type of entertainers that children enjoy! If you bring your kid to a drag show that’s not for kids, and they see a drag queen do something sexual, that’s on you. “Drag Queen Story Hour” and “11pm Drag Show at Thrust Bar sponsored by Grindr” are going to have pretty different marketing, and if you can’t tell the difference, that’s your problem.

Just. Shut up, lady.

I have a wide variety of (imho) excellent Harry Potter posts in my archive, and I invite you to enjoy them! But please don’t think I’m on board with her shit.

[cloudy-caspirations]

Long text post today— it’s not even 12pm yet and today is already pretty terrible, so I guess I’m posting about study fails on this blog too now!

This past Tuesday I spent a whole 6 hours straight catching up on math lectures and another 2 doing the homework. Today I got that homework back and I got a solid 3/10 on it. I stood up until 4am last night trying to understand the homework due today, and I ended up turning in a blank sheet.

To top it all off, when handing my homework back, the professor made a comment about me putting more effort into my appearance than his class… I still have no clue how to respond to that??

This and all my other classes are almost completely made up of men, so it’s already high pressure to do well and ‘prove that I belong here’ or whatever, and today’s interaction definitely did not help with that 😀.

Anyway, if any of y’all have advice or want to commiserate, whether it’s about differential equations or being a non-man in a male-dominated field or even just study tips and dealing with failure, I am open to anything😭😭.

[veilder]

The more I read the little snippets (in mostly tags) of your asexually the more I wish to bow at your awesomeness! I honestly wish I knew someone like you when I was growing up. Keep being your awesome self 💜

Aw, well thank you, that's so sweet! And honestly? Me too! XD Because it's weird, isn't it? Growing up and going to school and just... having such a different experience? Everyone is out there flirting and going out and getting boyfriends and girlfriends and whatever and I'm just over here watching Naruto and playing Fire Emblem. XD But the truth is, I didn't really "figure out" what was up until my 20s. Figured out that there was a completely different set of parameters I might fill, y'know? That I wasn't just weird or religious or even defective, but a whole, complete person who just so happens to live outside of majority parameters . And it was so nice to realize that it wasn't just a me thing, too! And also relieving because, like... Even if you're not consciously aware of it, there is so much pressure put on you as a teenager to date and find a partner and, yes, even to have sex. Enough that even I, who had no desire to, always sort of felt like I was missing out. So yeah, it was a big weight off my shoulders when I learned the term asexuality and looked up what it meant and how it might apply to me. And also to realize that I'm not alone in feeling that way! Honestly, I feel like figuring I'm (very probably) asexual was not only a huge step in my development, but also was really one of the first things I felt adult about, y'know? Like, this is something I never knew as a kid, something I figured out all on my own, and something I can own and be proud of. It set my brain to a different wave, like... Kind of fuck what society expects of you, y'know!? Fuck me working in a male-dominated, physically demanding field! Fuck me plodding along after my parent's very backwards beliefs! Hell, even stupid shit like fuck shaving my gd legs, who came up with that, it's so stupid?! But I guess in that way, it's been quite pivotal to me as I've matured. And like... let's say I do eventually find a partner and decide I wanna settle down and shit and I find out that whoops! Maybe I wasn't as ace as I thought I was, lol! Then no biggie there either! Because fuck static sexuality, you can change whenever you want! Doesn't mean that the process of getting there wasn't worth it or that you didn't learn anything along the way! In that way, I think being ace will always be a part of my identity at this point, even if things change further down the road. XD Anyway, this is getting quite rambly. Forgive me, it's 4 am and I should've gone to bed already, but your ask was so nice and I wanted to reply. :) It's really nice to know that my offhand little ramblings might mean something to someone somewhere. That maybe someone will stumble over them the same way I did in my early 20s, just learning that there was more to society than straight and gay. And yeah, it would've been nice to be aware earlier, sure! But isn't it a nice thought to think we could be that person now? Like, what's that one post? About being the person you needed when you were younger? Like, what a wonderful thought! Let's, you and me, strive for that, eh? And get some more of that casual acceptance out there. ^_^

[formosusiniquis]

me media naranja (and other things that need to ripen) Ch 2

Chapter One | AO3

She's immediately mortified. She just isn't sure why. She's a successful woman in a male dominated field. She's a successful woman in a sector of a male dominated field that requires her to be stern, unflappable, and to strike fear in the hearts of people who have done heinous acts of all sorts. Nancy Wheeler has taken her shame and her mortification, her embarrassment and her self-consciousness and put them down like a particularly unsightly demo-creature.

But looking at the freckled nose of Robin Buckley. The expanse of her neck revealed by her messy, grown out pixie cut. Nancy is mortified.

She doesn't need a new mystery, but this is something that needs solved more than whatever it was she came here for.

She stacks her theories in neat lines:

Midwestern courtesy, she's just sworn at someone who at this point is as good as a stranger

Surprise, she hadn't know that someone she saved the world with was in the same city as her

Her list falls apart here.

"Nancy! Nancy Wheeler, wow! Jan sent you? You do seem a little stressed, I prefer Italy but you seem like you'd like France."

Absent minded professor, Jan had said, and that is one way of describing the whirlwind that is Robin Buckley. Robin H. now, she's gotten married sometime since leaving Hawkins, settled into her skin. She drags Nancy into a broom closet masquerading as an office. Space made smaller by bookshelves on each wall encroaching into the usable space, stuffed so full the shelves are sagging under the weight of books and knickknacks. No photos on the shelves, but there's one on the desk beside a small monitor near the phone, turned away from prying eyes. And Nancy's eyes beg to intrude.

"Jan likes Paris, but you don't strike me as the Parisienne type, no offense. I mean it's been like, what, eight years so what do I know, maybe time has made you an eiffel tower type," she curls her nose, something in the thought disgusting her. Is it the thought of Nancy as a tourist, is it the tower itself? Jan has dropped a new mystery in her lap, everything about this Robin in front of her is new and fascinating. It makes her fingers itch with the need to unwrap, to find a peeling corner and pull until something new is revealed.

"I've got to stop spending- feel free to chime in here anytime, Nance. Have you been Vecna'd?"

That reminder of their past. The creature that sent her away. The mission completed, the evil defeated, Nancy a fighter without a fight sent off into the sunset to find a cause now that peace had made her home unfamiliar; according to Mike, anyway, who was having a little too much fun in his creative writing program.

"You got married?"

No, shit, she needed a translator. That’s why she came all the way out here. To speak with a professor, Robin, who speaks both of the languages she needs, apparently. She's one interview away from a goddamn pulitzer, she just needs a translator, and she's making small talk.

Robin has big eyes, they always look half lidded and sleepy. She favored a heavy brown liner in high school that turned lazy into seductive. Nancy isn't sure why she remembers that. Maybe because they're so wide now, open all the way to the point of distraction. Was it so weird that she might want to catch up with someone that might have been a friend. Trauma always entangled its way into her relationships in those days, it was always so hard to parse out what was what. She loved Jonathan, except she didn't without a tragedy. Steve had grown so much, except he wanted something from her she couldn't give. Robin was so much, except she was good in a crisis and threw a molotov with such grace.

Removed by time and by distance from everyone in Hawkins but her brother, and by extension Will and El, things cleared. Clarified. She never did the therapy thing, but she's worked on herself. Knows the boys she thought she loved wouldn't have been good for her, nor her for them. Removed from everyone who might have ever understood the woman she's become, save her brother and the two people he's kept so close to him as to become indistinguishable from, Nancy wonders if she might have been too hasty to chase her career so far.

Maybe she's lonely.

She still needs that translator.

"Yeah, uh, yep. We sent you an invitation, but it returned to sender; and your mom wasn't sure what your new address was and Mike can be so Mike."

"Oh."

And she's hit all of a sudden by an urge she hasn't had since Hawkins. To rage, to scream, to take the gun from her purse and squeeze the trigger again and again and again until the chest squeezing feeling that has taken over her disappears. She's almost 30 years old, how can this make her feel so small, so unsure. She's been a professional writer for longer than she hasn't these days, how can she not have the words for what she's feeling right now.

"So how should I credit you," she asks instead.

"Oh! You never said what this is for? Buckley is fine still, I mean- no I guess you're writing important, not that you weren't always- he's going to hate this." This is familiar, this is the Robin she remembers. Not the suave professor with the choppy Winona Ryder hair. The rambling one who seems to be talking more to herself than her companion. The one who can't run in heels and acts like lace was created specifically to ruin her life. The set of her shoulders when she decides on something. The flattened downturn of her mouth. "If my name's actually going to be in print, on whatever your current world changing crusade is now, make sure it's Harrington-Buckley."

She thinks she'd be less shocked if she'd been shot.

The door to Robin's office squeaks when it's opened, she isn't sure why she notices this. Except maybe as a holdover from the same battle hardened instincts she's never truly let go.

It doesn't matter. She doesn't register it quick enough. Barely hears, "Bobbie bird, you ready-"

Because all she can say is, "Bullshit!"

[bright-and-burning]

i would like to know more about american girl 🤲

this is an ideas-in-a-trench-coat wip BUT

girl logan. i wont lie this is a lot of me projecting my feelings abt being a woman in a male dominated field and being respected less bc of my background/accent/etc lol

basically logan is race car driver barbie jdkskfa im kidding but im also . not

like. i just think abt that interview where he said being an american in f1 he feels like an outsider. right.

anyways. totally not projecting here BUT. idk i think one defense mechanism in this situation is to be aggressively american and aggressively girl. like yeah logan'll call ppl mate. but it's in an american accent. yeah she's in this really masculine career but she's not gonna let you forget she's a girl. if that makes sense. long blonde hair etc.

but ALSO. the thesis of this is basically. "it would be so much easier if i just wasn't me. but i want to do it as me." you know?

dealing w the ways that that gets you Down when ur facing it day in and day out. and like the way expectations weigh on you . esp looking at like the difference btwn how she's treated vs like. how george was his rookie season, right, like hm. british man vs american woman i wonder

but essentially following the last year or whatever w/in this context. also logan does an american girl doll brand deal. this is Very Important To Me. bc everybody's always got their jokes abt her. abt american girl dolls (bc it's an easy almost-pun), abt barbie, etc. and she's like yeah well. let's lean into it.

so yeahhhhhh i dont even have plot really. just vague vibes and a concept and the knowledge that there is a race car driver american girl in this universe

[whatiwillsay]

Heat of the game and all that, I gotta say I find Travis bumping coach so off-putting. That’s such a typical example of macho behavior, and these physical displays of frustration/aggression/domination get so easily excused because of heightened emotions. This is primitive dudebro behavior in my eyes. Travis can be cute and I liked him at the beginning, but this is such a red flag about a man, regardless of profession and situation. I wonder how others feel about this.

i actually just watched the most interesting tiktok ab the situation

anyway listen i was briefly repulsed as well obviously he’s there for work and he should keep it professional.

apparently he did immediately go hug the coach and apologize after and the coach said he wasn’t being disrespectful just saying “put me in i’ll go score”. obviously the act of getting in his coaches face was gross but i actually think he bumped into him on accident (if you watch the video they both look surprised at the contact) and was more just going to grab his arm.

but what do i know?

well i guess we do know he dated the same woman for 5 years and has never had an allegation of domestic violence against him so i take that to be a good sign.

we also know taylor was all over him last night so whatever the shove and yelling meant, taylor doesn’t seem to care.

we also know the coach defended him during his post game interview and basically brushed it off

but one last thing idk if yall know- so i’ve never seen a player get in a coach’s face like that as far as i can remember BUT ive seen coaches do that to players again and again and again. they are always screaming, always in their faces, grabbing them by the facemask and ripping their heads down to yell at them louder. hell i got verbally abused by a male basketball coach in 8th grade. it is sadly part of the culture of football and sports particular amongst men. maybe that’s due to cortisol and testosterone like the tiktoker said in the above video but for whatever reason that kind of behavior is common between coaches and players and players and players on the field.

it’s unacceptable and should change but i’m not shocked that it hasn’t.

i also would say do not underestimate just how violent tackle football is. i played in a women’s league for a year and the hits are insane and definitely get you riled up. like i have cleanly tackled girls harder on the field than travis grabbed at his coach. i can see how the lines get blurred while you’re out there hitting and hitting and hitting and then you’re on the sideline and oops something physical happened.

it seems obvious to me that travis has some degree of anger management problems and imo he should seek therapy and anger management classes. but i don’t think he’s a danger to anyone. he has a track record of acting out on the field but not anywhere else.

only time will tell tho. it is a red flag and i hope he just gets some treatment!

[kamreadsandrecs]

Title: Don't Call It a Cult: The Shocking Story of Keith Raniere and the Women of NXIVM

Author: Sarah Berman

Genre: nonfiction, cults, true crime

Trigger/Content Warning/s: physical and emotional abuse of women and minors, rape (including of minors), sexual assault (including of minors), forced confinement, gaslighting, stalking, persecution

Summary (from author's website): Don’t Call It a Cult (2021) is the culmination of years of investigation into a secretive self help program that was first accused of branding, blackmailing and starving women in 2017. Its leader Keith Raniere was sentenced to 120 years in prison for sex trafficking, sexual exploitation of a child, wire fraud, racketeering and other crimes. This is the story of NXIVM, the rich and famous people who helped Raniere evade prosecution for decades, and the trial that revealed his darkest secrets to the world.

Buy Here: https://bookshop.org/p/books/don-t-call-it-a-cult-the-shocking-story-of-keith-raniere-and-the-women-of-nxivm-sarah-berman/15011261

Spoiler-Free Review: Well, that was a RIDE of a read, and also UTTERLY INFURIATING AND TERRIFYING.

I learned about this book after I finished listening to a Cult Podcast episode on NXIVM and did some googling. There are other books out there about NXIVM, with some of them written by victims, as well as some that focus specifically on Keith Raniere, but I was looking for something that was written by someone uninvolved in NXIVM, and this book fit the bill. (Also ngl but the title look interesting compared to some of the other titles of NXIVM-related books out there, which also encouraged me to pick it up.)

Anyway: I think this book’s a very good introduction to what NXIVM did to the people who were involved in it, especially the women. Most people know about the branding and DOS, but the book shows that those were more the ultimate manifestation of what Raniere had been doing for years to those around him. He didn’t start out with those from the get-go; those were things that came about after he’d cemented his hold on the women surrounding him and manipulated and abused them into a mindset where they would do whatever he asked them to do. It was deeply upsetting how he twisted the language of self-help and psychology to prey upon vulnerable women, who should have been seeing qualified psychologists and psychiatrists and not this snake-oil salesman who wasn’t above turning tail and hiding when things weren’t going his way (which is something he did A LOT, often abandoning his loyal followers to the cops whenever the law came calling).

What’s interesting to me is that his victims don’t strike one immediately as being “vulnerable”. Many of them are white, wealthy, and ambitious, with some working in fields like finance, law, and computer programming, which were heavily male-dominated during the late 1990s and into the early and mid-2000s (and still are, to a degree). I could see why they were drawn to NXIVM’s messaging of self-improvement and “ethical responsibility”, but it’s disturbing how Raniere was able to con so many of them, to the point that some of them actually helped him perpetrate his abuse onto other women. It got me thinking about the deep-seated misogyny and self-hatred that lives in a lot of women no matter how successful they might seem on the surface, and which Raniere clearly knew how to pull up and prey upon. It also got me thinking about the self-help industry, and how so many people will fall for whatever unproven claptrap self-declared “gurus” spout out because they are desperate to find a way to help themselves and maybe others too.

Overall, this was a great overview of NXIVM and what happened before it all exploded in 2019. This has a more journalistic approach compared to some of the other books about NXIVM, which are either memoirs written by victims, or books that focus on Raniere himself, and I think this is useful if one wants to come to grips with what NXIVM was, and what the brouhaha was all about if one was only hearing about it for the first time in 2019.

Rating: five long walks

[razsberrie]

so idk if you know much about miss bianca bustamante (i think that’s how you spell her name) aka @racerbia on Instagram. she’s a mclaren f4 academy driver.

ANYWAYS. she was caught liking literal diss tweets about lance stroll. I don’t know word for word but they said something along the lines of how “he’d be nothing if not for his father and oh daddy’s money blah blah blah” but also autism was thrown into the mix of insults. im not sure if she thought that it was cool to like diss tweets just to “seem superior” because let’s face it — she is an attractive girl. and some wonder if that is how she got her position that she’s in. another F4 academy driver Marta Garcia (I think that’s her name) was dropping hints at Bianca being a shitty driver so….if the shoe fits.

it’s just a shame that lance has to put up with constant hate, like he could win a podium and there’d be nothing but hate for him….i find it sad. and as far as if he’s autistic…I actually have no idea? whether it’s true or not, to use that as a weapon against someone, I certainly don’t agree with it.

her “apology” was dry as hell, and then she went on to say that with her brother being autistic she should be more “aware of the struggle” that he has or something along the lines. I think it was on her IG story, now it’s gone.

but like as a woman myself that is going into a male dominant field (design engineering) I was really rooting for Bianca to be maybe the first female in F1…but now im not so sure.

Owowowo that’s actually grim yeah. Talk about shooting your self in the foot before you even START. Like it always cracks me up a bit that people can be idk, stupid?? enough to get caught publicly liking disses or whatever like babes digital footprint im begging you

and yeah like if he does have autism then there’s no reason that should be weaponised against him, and it’s super weird in the first place for people to be speculating about it, especially under the guise of it being “bad”

but Jesus Christ even the shitty apology like girl dig up!! and yeah being the social science degree holder that I am me and my bf have debated about to the whole women entering the f1 thing before, like I got super annoyed over the way they implemented f1 academy in the first place but I could write a whole essay about that so I’ll shut uppp

design engineering sounds sick tho holy shit