#then what’s the point of adding a label

[tmblrplsdonutbanme]

My mistake was assuming that male defending "feminists" who will do anything, like nitpick the grammar of a bullet point list, to justify their internalized misogyny and call women hysterical... for their grammar... of a bullet point list.

MY mistake was assuming someone with a bio "I'm smarter than you" would be awake enough to realize that a post ABOUT OPRESSION AND DOUBLE STANDARDS wouldn't suddenly claim that men don't rape each other. OBVIOUSLY men rape other men

I'm SO glad that SOMEBODY cares about MEN! PHEW! They must be so thankful that you're rushing here to represent them!!!

I was really worried that in our radical feminist community on tumblr, we didn't have enough people who REALLY CARE about MEN!

THANK GOD FOR YOU!!!!

(i know you're the self-proclaimed "smartest", but i feel obligated to say that this was sarcasm so you don't embarrass yourself again)

Your logic left along with your allegiance to women

"Your source for the beauty statistics is shit, which was my point. So it doesn't matter what numbers are on that weird random website."

Have another!

And another!

For someone SO concerned about the laziness of "deceptive" research, PLEASE just LOOK IT UP! IT'S RIGHT THERE!!

It was SO easy to find! you clearly put NO EFFORT into your dumbass retort before you ran to your keyboard to DEFEND MEN IN THE BEAUTY INDUSTRY

I mean, seriously? Your whole point by saying that the source I posted is "setting women back" because it highlights men oppressing women through the beauty industry, and, for whatever reason - you don't like that!

You're here because you believe men AREN'T at a disadvantage in the beauty industry

but yet you have NO SOURCES! LMAOOOO

"And anyway, while women do inflict sexual violence on men (at much lower rates than men inflict sexual violence on women) I don't feel any particular obligation to prove that to you"

Because you can't LOL

"You don't know how to interpret the reputable sources that you have on there and are making wild blanket claims from unrelated studies with very limited sample sizes from two decades ago."

20 years ago?? Is that when you lost your brain!?

Also I SCREENSHOTED THE ACTUAL LINE IN THE ARTICLE! WDYM "interpret"

"So, yes. You are making easy work for anyone who wants to call you hysterical, as is anyone endorsing this post without reviewing your sources. People are eager to label feminists as hysterical or making up problems to advance their interests (deceptive) and stuff like this does their work for them."

You literally sound like a chauvinistic guy

You didn't review ANY sources, you just crossed your arms and went "Wah! Men aren't disproportionately represented in the beauty industry! I won't send you any sources, I know bc i said so!"

then you called me hysterical and said i was deceptive

It's just random ad hominem while attributing (very random) negative attributes to ALL women on behalf of ONE.

THAT'S sexist

THAT'S internalized misogyny

Notice how i caught you making up utter bullshit and having absolutely nothing in retort other than your internalized misogyny?

Did I attribute this, or your bad grammar to ALL women?

& I AM STILL waiting on those "women raping men" statistics that you said were "too specific" because they're not, rape can be a death sentence and men are violent. do you research at ALL??

in 2023, 100,000 women were killed for sex based violence

in 2023, 50 million women were sex trafficked

in 2023 30,000 women were killed in sex trafficking alone

Statistics- Again

men constitute 97% of (non fatal) strangulation attacks

men constitute 99% of acid attacks

men constitute 99.99% of child pornography

men constitute 98% of mass shootings

men constitute 99.8% of rapists

men constitute 86% of homicides

men constitute 95% of forcible incest

men constitute 99.99% of child sex abuse

men constitute 99% of molesting cases

men constitute 96% of domestic violence/abuse

men constitute 99% of drugging

men constitute 90% of stalking

men constitute 99.99% of human trafficking perpetrators

men constitute 99% of sex trafficking abuse

Men constitute 99% of animal abuse

Men constitute 98% of bestiality

_________________________Original Post_________________________

92.6% of makeup companies are male

97% of all creative directors are male

98% of modeling agencies are male

92% of fashion media is male

96% of the fashion industry is male

___________________________Rape_________________________

Women are 21x more likely to get raped, yet this is seriously underreported considering the dead bodies

1/3 of all women internationally report being sexually assaulted. we know this number to be much higher due to autopsies reported in the census

Women are 400,000,000x more likely to DIE from RAPE than a man

not one man has ever died from rape, accounts for no coroner report ever, whereas tens of thousands of women and children die a year.

i tried to find a statistic refuting this but i could not

________________________Sex Trafficking________________________

50 million women are sex trafficking victims

women make up for 95% of labor trafficking

70% of child labor is FEMALE

25 million women are forced into child marriages

650 million girls are in arranged marriages/ marriages consummated below the age of consent

_________________________Fetish / Kink_________________________

Men make up most 98% on average of every fetish community

Men make up 99% of pedophilia.

10% of men are pedophiles

_________________________International_________________________

in 70 countries - that comprise 26% of the world population, women need men's permission to learn, work, or travel.

There are 50 countries in which the law states you can sell and buy women into marriage. - These countries, including India and Pakistan, make up 38% of the entire world.

There are 178 countries that do not have the same legal rights for women, where written law specifically excludes women from freedom.

There are 2.4 billion women globally who are born in countries that have written law that restricts them completely, but even more so without a man.

6 billion people believe in a religion that states that women are less human than men

_________________________Original Post_________________________

Infographic Sources

_________________________More Studies_________________________

Study on objectification

Study on empathy

Some Fashion Industry Stats & Sources

Infographic

[polnich]

Characters: Emperor of mankind x reader (gn)

Word: 600~ Warnings: Yandere?, toxic dynamic

A/N: A drabble that I had to cut down a whole ass side plot from... grammar warning because it was written on a phone :P

Did he care about you?

When he lends down lifting his golden talons, taking your chin so carefully like it would break at the lightest of breezes. Those burning sun's eyes that would glow softer on seeing your frame.

Before he would let go, the small moment of warmth long forget as he returns to his normal self. Maybe he did care in his own strange way.

You remember the first day with the emperor, how you were a political pawn he had taken. He was going to kill you, but he saw a use, so he kept you.

Like a trophy.

Technically you didn't have a title, you were just kind of an object the emperor kept. But in your own mind you'll label yourself as a concubine because what else could you be.

Currently you were in bed with him. Your form still stinging from the events that just happened before. The emperor had just distressed himself earlier. Sweat still dripping from the skin. His naked form warped around yours like a caged.

His breathing was slow as he lower his head down, pressing a kiss to your flesh once more.

“You were quiet.”

His voice rings out, one of his large fingertips tapping against the side of your hip.

“You have something to say?”

He asked, waiting for an answer that never came. After a moment, he shifted your body, making it, so your chest was resting against his. Cupping your chin he forced you to look at him.

“I didn't force you, you know you willingly agreed.”

“It is not that… It's been a year since I've been here.”

You mutter out, trying to ignore what he had added on. A hum escaped him as his eyes widened just a small bit. Brushing a hand through your messy hair, he takes a moment before responding.

“You're still keeping track of time. You don't need to worry about that.”

Your heart dropped at that deep down you probably knew you never see your loved ones again. But it hurt knowing he didn't even care about how you would feel.

“It's been a year since I've seen my family and friends… Emperor.”

“You're asking for that still? It safer for you to remain on Terra. Warp travel affected you quite dangerously last time.”

Unfortunately he had a point for the one time travelling on a void ship a strange inhuman monster had attacked you. If it wasn't for him killing it, well it safe to say you probably wouldn't be alive right now.

“You're like the finest of gold. Only fit to be against a man like myself.”

He could never lose interest in the figure he had in front of him, no matter how many times he saw you. Your poor soul was reaching out for his and only his. It was only fitting that he answered it.

The emperor under his God-like power was still a man. The most powerful human psyker, but still a man. Your soul was almost like a lure for him, one he was hooked on. 

It was understandable why you missed your family and friends, but it couldn't be help. They weren't even in the living any more, so even if he wanted to he couldn't let you see them.

After all, why would you want to spend time with them when you could spend time with him? The emperor of mankind.

You were his and only his. But with him so forced on this fact, he never noticed the eyes that watched you. For now it was a moment of peace, a moment where he can just relax.

Just you and him, that where you belong right next to him... forever.

~♡~

[spockcock]

Actively disturbed by the fact Dan and Phil are t'hy'la (Vulcan word used to indicate people with a close bond; essentially translates to a combination friend, brother, and lover. Used most often to reference the characters Kirk and Spock as something like soulmates or spouses)

[fantasygerard2000]

When you criticize a media on why it didn't succeed, I'd listen. But the moment you used your own fanwork with your favorite tropes as an example on how "better" it would've been if you were in charge of making it, you lost me.

[cj-lyric-a-day]

look i struggled making this poll okay so now yall will struggle with me

Yes they are randomized, No im not telling you which one is which yall are GAMBLING now

Blame CJ

[lyxchen]

They gave one of my Sangihun and one of my 457 art a content label :(

[effervescent-fool]

i think one of my biggest (and only) gripes with procreate is that they dont have like. a masterlist of features their app has to offer. a full thorough ui navigation. because ive been using procreate for a couple years now and im still discovering preexisting features because they just. dont mention it anywhere

[drag0nalias0]

The evil lord of an intergalatoc empire has an anine now?!? I remember reading the novel years ago!

[rook2ii]

dude, why does accidentally messing up on RYM feel scarier that accidentally messing up on MusicBrainz :[

[cherrynpink]

just "friends"

pairing: situationship!dokyeom x f!reader

genre: situationship to lovers, slight angst, smut (with a bit of plot) MDNI!

warnings: cursing, oc is a bit mean to him in the start but it's ok, soft dom!dk, jealous oc, fingering, oral (f. receiving), mentions of giving head, multiple orgasms, a bit of overstimulation, down bad dk, needy oc, praise, ass smacking, protected sex but oc doesn't want to use a condom initially, hair pulling, mentions of creampie (wrap it before u tap it), doggy style, mention of hair pulling, big dick!dk, he is literally too big, slight strength kink, he is an idiot, dirty talk, lmk if i missed anything!

w.c.: 4.2k

playlist: just "friends"

for more of my work, check out my masterlist!

Note: aaah this is the first fic i'm writing on here so pls bear with me. if u find any mistakes, pls lmk! this was loosely inspired from the situationship i was in last year, except mine didn't end well unlike oc's. hope u like it n pls give me wtv feedback u feel so that i get better at this! hehe anyways go on

also u can comment or message me if u wanna be added to my taglist!

dokyeomie:3 : are u mad at me???

Your phone buzzes. It's 2 a.m. and your phone buzzes. You know there is only one person whose texts you would receive this time at night. You didn’t want to ignore dokyeom, you really do like him after all. You’ve been in, what you would call- a situationship? You’re not very sure. You met him through you mutual friends during a trip you all went to together. It’s funny how during your first year you never noticed him in campus despite him being in the same year as you, but as soon as you returned from the trip, he was everywhere. It was like a dokyeom plague all around.

Initially, you weren’t interested in him beyond being friends but fuck- how can a guy be this sweet? And this nice? And this hot. You can’t blame a girl for wanting more. When he texted you first right after returning from the trip asking for the pictures you had taken, you knew this was your chance to lock it DOWN. Only a fool would miss a chance to let a guy like him pass by. After that it was nonstop texting. All day. 24/7. Point of no return.

You’d give him random updates of your day, he would call you when he went to Sephora with his sister and ask which lip gloss you wanted to feed your manic lip gloss obsession, he would send you pictures of cats he saw on campus and say “us”, coffee dates, study dates (even though you had different majors), teaching him to play DTI at 3 a.m. while you laughed at him dates, but not an official “date” yet. Not a label beyond “friends” yet.

You wondered how can two people do all this and still be called friends. This is not what friends do, right? Or is it? Fuck- this is ruining you. It didn’t help seeing him get coffee with some other girl from his class while she laughed like he was the funniest guy ever. And like he probably was. But she’s not allowed to laugh. Only you. He does NOT need to be this funny with some other girl when he hasn’t even labelled what you are yet.

Leading you to ghosting him for the past 2 days. And trust, it was truly torture. How do you suddenly stop talking to the person you’ve shared everything about you to for the past 3 months? Everything reminded you of him no matter where you went. This is the most down bad you’ve ever been for a MAN. Your prime man hater era would be ashamed.

dokyeomie:3 : im really worried, im coming over, okay? I’m almost there >.< bringing some ice cream too!!! i know ur not asleep yet so pls let’s just talk okay :)

You hear your bell ring and thank god for the fact your roommate was at her parents’ place this weekend- well, not like anything’s going to happen anyway, what would it matter. He didn’t even give you time to change as you open the door in your short pyjama set, and what do you see but crinkly eyed dokyeom with his heart smile which almost makes you want to forget the hell he’s put you through the past 3 months and just kiss him.

“Hi” he says, coming in and setting the ice cream on the table, “let’s eat now before it melts.”

“I don’t feel like eating right now.” You take the plastic bag from his hands and put it in the freezer.

He steps closer to you, and closer, and closer, until there doesn’t seem to be any distance between you and you feel your surroundings closing in, as he towers over you, his sandalwood musk encapsulating you making your heart race, your breath turning erratic and your cheeks a crimson shade like a blushing bride. It truly is so easy for him.

He tucks your hair behind your ear- “y/n what happened, are you mad at me? Whatever it is you can tell me. Just please, talk to me.”

“I was just busy, it’s really nothing. Anyway, you had that girl from your class to keep you from getting bored.”

“Is that what this is about? I got assigned a project with her so we grabbed coffee to discuss how to go about it, it wasn’t anything more I swear.”

“That’s not it.” You turn your face away and head to the couch. Talking about what you feel has always been harder for you, which is why you’ve never had any proper relationships- only casual no strings attached arrangements or situationships.

“What is it then? Please y/n, you can’t just go radio silent for two days. I was so worried about you, talk to me, okay?” he says as he sits beside you on the couch.

“You never asked me out.” You blurt it out so fast its barely comprehensible to him.

“What?”

“You never asked me out. You flirt with me all the time, we text literally all day, and when we don’t its because we’re together at the coffee shop or the library or whatever. My friends call me an idiot, that you’re just toying with me, until you’re bored with me. You’ve never even defined what we are yet, because we sure as hell aren’t friends. Friends don’t act like this- right dokyeomie?”

You looked up to him, doe eyed on the brink of tears as you felt a lump in your throat, a heaviness on your shoulders. He felt horrible.

How was he supposed to know you liked him? He just thought you were being really friendly with him- just like you would be with anyone else, right? Here he was thinking he was the idiot being so hopelessly obsessed with you. He was literally so down bad for you it was kind of pathetic. Once when you had just started talking to him you mentioned you liked glasses, low and behold, he wore glasses every time you saw him. You can’t find the lip gloss you want anywhere? He’s dragging his poor sister with him to every makeup store in the city, trying to find that goddamn lip gloss that seems to be sold out everywhere. And now he feels like shit for making you think that he would just lead you on and leave you when he’s tired of you or something. Fuck. He’s messed up BIG time. And he does the only thing he can think of to make it up to you, FAST.

He leans into you, one hand gripping your jaw while the other brushes against your waist, his face so close you can feel his breathe as your eyes flicker down to his lips as he wets them. Your breath hitches and he can practically hear his heart racing the speed of a bullet train. And just like that, the next thing you know, his lips are against yours engulfing you in a whirlwind of a kiss. Your hand reaches for his chest as he holds you. He kisses you softly yet so messy and passionate it sweeps you off your feet. As you deepen your kiss, he slips his tongue in and a soft whimper leaves your throat. Impatient to gain control he pushes against you in an attempt for dominance and his quick shift in demeanor has you flooding in your pajama shorts. Good thing you sleep without your panties on. 

As your make out session continues to grow more aggressive, you feel him manhandle you over his lap onto his hardening length. Fuck. He feels big, you think as your hips give an experimental grind. He seems impatient as you make out, like he’s trying to make up for the lost time as he tightens his grip on your waist to get you closer to him, and you’re no different- tugging at the collar of his shirt so desperate to be with him.

“I really like you” he whispers between soft open-mouthed kisses. “I really like you I just wasn’t sure you felt the same about me, I’m sorry for making you wait so long baby, let me make it up to you?”

Oh. Your pussy likes the sound of that. It comes out of his mouth in a whisper, as he tries to catch his breath because you might not see it, but he is doing gymnastics to keep up with you and you’re driving him absolutely crazy. Its actually a little unbelievable for him to be making out with the girl he’s been in love with for the past year. He can feel a wet spot forming on his jeans as you leak onto him through your shorts.

“So needy baby, can feel you getting wet just from kissing a bit. You want it that bad?” he chuckles. God, you must look desperate to him but you need him right now because his hands gripping your thighs and yours in his hair drive you insane.

“You made me wait so so long kyeomie, need you, please. Need you to fuck me.” It leaves your throat like a whine making him twitch under you. You don’t care how desperate your pleas sound, because truth be told its all you’ve been picturing for the past 3 months. His hand makes its way to your tits as he cups them from over your thin top. From where he's sitting, you look pathetic and so pliant under his gaze, even though you’re sitting on him. If he knew you were this into him, he would’ve done this much sooner.

“Fuck, don’t worry baby I’ll take good care of you. Lift your arms for me.” He says as he takes off your top and god, he can’t take his eyes off your tits sitting right in front of him. He kisses down your neck and you just smell so fucking good he doesn't want to stop. He recognizes the scent, that vanilla bakery cupcake scent that always lingers on him after you hang out with him, the one he's just so obsessed with. He takes your hardened nipple into his mouth as his hand plays with the other. You moan softly as dokyeom focuses all his attention on your chest. Nibbling and biting and licking, as you keep grinding your hips on him, feeling him getting harder.

“So pretty baby, so pretty just for me.”

“I- I need- need you dokyeom, please? Please I’ll do whatever- whatever you want. Wanna suck you off. Make you feel good. Can I?” you say as you get down on your knees. And oh, it is a sight for him. Something in your eyes changes, he sees them full of lust and desperation, so drunk. This was new for him. Before this, you would always be so shy around him, or anyone for that matter. Never laughing fully at the suggestive jokes your friends made when you all hung out together, just giving a coy smile. Even when you and dokyeom talked, you never reacted to his advances, innocent or suggestive, never reacted to the innuendoes he made, just avoiding eye contact with him. But this new you, he liked her for sure. He would’ve teased you more, but fuck, some other time.

You unbutton his jeans as your hands flutter impatiently and fumble with his zipper, because you quite literally cannot wait a second more.

“Slow down y/n, wait.”

He groans as he lifts his hips to let you lower his jeans. He’s already half hard in his boxers and oh. You have no idea how he’s ever going to fit inside you. You mouth at his boxers and lick at him through them. But he knows, if he lets you do this, he'll come in your mouth in an instant, and he is but a gentleman, and would rather die than to not make you cum first.

“Y/n as much as I would love that, I’ll cum in my pants if you do that, and I’m not gonna let that happen.” He says as he tugs you by your hair to get you up. You pout at him, disappointed he won’t let his dick in your mouth.

“Don’t make that face princess, you can do it next time.” he says as he lifts you in his arms. You gasp as he begins to carry you to your room and throws you on your bed as you rebound on it.

“You like that? Like it when I pick you up and throw you around. I see you staring at my arms all the time baby, don’t think you’re subtle.”

He kisses you again as he pins your hands over your head as makes his way down your body, marking you as he goes along. He reaches you thighs and begins to kiss them softly as he drags his tongue to your tiny shorts and begins to pull them down. And imagine his surprise as he comes face to face with your glistening pretty pussy. He sucks his breath in as he seems to be stuck in a trance.

You’re obsessed with the way his eyes follow your cunt. He looks like a child seeing candy for the first time, and you’re totally here for it. His big hands hold your thighs apart as he lays down between them and looks at your pussy like it has the moon and stars hung in it for him.

“No panties y/n? Fuck didn’t know you were a slut baby, you always act so shy and naïve in front of me, no?” he says as his fingers run against your slit experimentally, circling your entrance teasingly, taking you by surprise causing you to let out a desperate moan.

“I’m- I’m not!” you whine but you sound like even you don’t believe your own words. He’s right after all, isn’t he? You are a slut for him. Why would you be ashamed of it.

“You’re not? Then why are you dripping over all your sheets y/n. Haven’t even done anything yet and you’re trying to hump the air. If you needed me that bad could’ve just asked. Would’ve given you everything. But you wanted to give me the silent treatment. So, I’ll have to punish you baby.”

He smirks as one hand tweaks your nipple while the other dips inside you barely before he pulls it out in an instant. He traces soft patterns on your inner thighs, but every time you buck your hips up, he just moves his hand further away from your center.

“Please kyeomie, touch me.”

“I’m already touching you y/n. You need to be more specific.”

This is torture. You’re literally about to cry.

“In- in me. Your hand- your finger, need it in me.” you say with your face in your hand red with embarrassment.

“No please this time? Where are your manners?”

“Please dokyeom, need your fingers in me!"

Finally, he puts you out of your misery. The finger that was teasing you enters you in one instant. And oh. You are so tight. You feel so full, and its just one finger yet. You don’t know how you’re going to take him in.

“Gripping me like crazy y/n fuck, so fucking tight.”

He slowly moves his hand in and out, curling it and watching it squeeze him, barely fitting him in you. You grip the sheets tightly as he curls his finger and hits your g-spot right where you need it.

“You can barely fit one baby, how are you going to take my cock? Maybe I should just eat you out and make you cum on your fingers and leave it at that.” he says mocking you.

He knows he’s being really cruel, but only because you can take it. Also, you did make him wait so long too, so he deserves to have fun with it.

“No! No, I can take it I- I- promise!”

He chuckles and inserts another finger in, increasing the pace until you’re left gasping for air, a moaning mess. He feels your body tensing up, and leans down to kiss your thighs and whilst driving his fingers in you, making you moan his name over and over again like a prayer. Finally, he presses his thumb against your clit, and makes 8 figures over and over again, agonizing you as the pit in your stomach grows bigger every time you feel his fingers hit your spot.

Suddenly he takes his finger out, making you whine at the loss of contact and your eyes fill with tears because you were just so, so close.

He dives in between your legs licking a long strip up your entrance, the moan you let out is music to his ears, and the way you taste is better than anything he’s ever had. His tongue enters you as he pushes it in and out, and oh the way his nose keeps hitting your clit repeatedly with each motion has you seeing stars. You entangle your hand into his hair pushing yourself into his mouth as he moans.

He makes out with your cunt like a man starved as you feel yourself getting closer and closer. And at this point you have no idea about the words coming out of your mouth, a combination of broken moans and desperate pleas. Your legs are trembling as his big hands hold them apart, tightening his grip on them like he’s chasing his own high because you keep trying to close them with every brush of his nose against your clit.

“Please dokyeom, please I- I’m gonna- oh my god, I need to cum!”

“Yeah? Can feel you clenching baby. It’s okay, you’ve been so good, you can cum.”

And that’s all it takes. You feel the pressure in your stomach building up and the knot finally snaps as he hums against you and you break with a loud cry, your back arching and your hands pulling his hair. A euphoric feeling takes over your body as your legs going numb, and your mind in a hazy state with your eyes going dark, your back covered in sweat and your face so hot. There is only pleasure running throughout you but dokyeom doesn’t stop even as your cum covers his mouth dragging his tongue against your core as you come down from your high, until you’re gasping his name like it’s the only thing you remember.

When he looks up, it’s a sight to see; hair all messy, lips glossy, chin dripping with you and a hunger in his eyes like you’ve never seen before. He comes up and captures you in a kiss so deep you taste yourself on him. You never thought a someone eating you out would be this hot, but dokyeom has a way to keep you guessing.

“You’ve made such a mess baby, and you say you’re not a slut. What will I do with you hmm?”

There is something so demeaning about you being completely bare and vulnerable, withering under him, while he stays clothed. It’s like a fucking power trip for him, makes him feel fully in control of you, and oh does that make him so hard. Now that he’s gotten a taste, he doesn’t think he can stop.

“Take off- take- take it off” you say tugging on the collar of his shirt. Even you have no idea what incomprehensible nonsense is coming out of your mouth at this point, you’re just so drunk on him. He sits up taking off shirt and pants and you keep yourself from moaning out loud when you look at him. He looks so big. Not just beneath his boxers but him entirely, he looks so big. He notices your eyes travelling from his chest to his arms, trying to take it all in at once as if you would never have this chance again.

He finally takes off his boxers and you think you’re in love. His dick looks so pretty, his tip a slightly dark shade of pink curved a bit and veiny, you just don’t know how to explain it. He spits on his hand and pumps it in his hand and now that he’s fully hard, you have no idea how he’s going to fit in you.

“Like what you see baby? But your pussy is so tiny, how’s is going to fit?” he says as he brings his hands to your sides, running his hands all over your body. He pouts but you know he’s talking shit to tease you.

You reach up desperate for a kiss but he just kisses your cheek instead, “please, I need you to fuck me so bad kyeom, I can take it! I promise, just give it to me.”

He chuckles darkly, and this is so embarrassing for you but fuck it, who cares. “You beg so well baby, makes me wanna give you everything you ask for.”

He grabs your waist and turns you on your stomach in an instant, raising your hips to meet his, and smacks your ass hard, making you almost jump in surprise. Him manoeuvring you into being on your arms and knees was honestly such a turn on, but you know if you let him know that, you’ll let go of the tiny piece of dignity that you hopefully have left, so you settle for pushing your ass back into him making him groan.

“Condom baby?”

“In my drawer but no! no condom just, want to feel you.” you beg.

Fuck. You’re going to be the death of him. You were going to let him hit raw? Now he truly regrets not doing this earlier, but you’re not thinking clearly and he can’t take the risk no matter how much you make him want to.

“Sorry princess, but we can’t take the risk, some other time, okay?”

You groan, you hate him actually. Who gives us the opportunity to get in raw, you think to yourself as you hand him the condom.

You hear him slide it on and pump himself, “you’re so wet y/n, I might just slide in.” he says as he taps his dick on your clit making you moan. He runs his tip up and down your slit collecting your wetness, and pushes it in just so he's barely stretching you.

“I’ll take it slow okay, I promise.” He says as he grabs you by your hair and pulls you near him to kiss you on your cheek. His hands find home on your hips as he grabs them tightly, pushing himself in one inch at a time, easing you on, making you almost scream. As he bottoms out, he lets out a moan and so do you, feeling so full of him, because oh my god the stretch is like you've never felt before.

“So warm baby, so soft, cunt gripping me so good it doesn’t want me to leave I think.”

“Fuck dokyeom feel so full, I love it, please move.” You say as you beg him for the hundredth time for the night. And apparently that was all he needed to hear as he begins to drill into you sliding in and out mercilessly, slapping your ass every now and then. He fills you so good because its such a tight fit, and god does he love it. You are now left a mess under him, no thoughts in your head, just a chant leaving your mouth as you scream his name over and over.

“It’s that good baby? Or are you just too cockdrunk to think? Fuck, pussy so good it’s gonna milk the fuck outta me.” He moans as he tries to keep up with the unbelievable pace he’s set. His hand moves down your stomach as he toys with your clit from behind, making you see stars.

“You look so good like this y/n, all spread out for me. Makes me want to remember this forever, you’re gonna let me record this ass next time baby?”

All you can do is nod since you have no energy left in you to respond to him.

“Such a pillow princess, can’t even answer a simple question, need me to do all the work for you, hmm? It’s okay though, you don’t have to do anything, just sit pretty for me and I’ll take care of you.”

His grip on your ass tightens and his hand’s movement at your clit fastens as you feel him approaching his high, his strokes getting deeper yet sloppier and you wish he wasn’t wearing a condom so that he could fill you to the brim. At this point he too, like you- was an incoherent mess, because your pussy just feels like heaven to him, and he doesn’t think he can hold out any longer.

“Fuck! I’m so close dokyeom! I- i- fuck right there! Right there! Wanna cum so bad, can I- can I cum? Please, oh!” you scream with all the strength you have left.

“Ah, me too baby, fuck good girl, always such a good girl, asking for permission. You can cum princess, cum for me.”

And that’s all it takes for you to crash into the bed with a loud moan as your arms give out, your pussy clenching around him as he fills the condom. Your chest heaving and a buzzing sound in your ear, you have no idea of your surroundings as dokyeom continues to twitch inside you, finally taking his dick out after what feels like eternity. You whine at the feeling of emptiness, feeling yourself gape due to the lack of him as he crashes besides you out of breath. You turn your face to him as he softly kisses your forehead and wraps his arms around you.

After you both clean up, you lay on your new clean sheets wrapped around him as he caresses your hair.

“I’m sorry I was an idiot for not making it clear I like you sooner, I’ll take you out on a proper date later this week, okay?”

“mhm okay, but just so you know kyeomie, I don’t put out on first dates.”

[fatphobiabusters]

It says a lot about society that a beach towel that actually fits me is labeled "oversized" on the packaging so that thin people can know which of a select few beach towels will make them feel all warm and cozy and small.

I already buy beach towels to dry myself off with because it's easier than looking for bath towels that fit me, so labeling a beach towel "oversized" because this world is made solely for thin people is just added cruelty. I've been using beach towels to dry myself off with even when I was in the low 200s weight range.

What's fucking wild is that 99.999999% of thin people are blissfully ignorant of what the world is like for fat people. They have no clue what it's like to have to check the weight capacity of a chair on a website before buying it or seeing everything that's the perfect size for you being labeled "oversized." They don't know what it's like not being able to find clothes that fit you at a regular store, thrift store, online store, or even those plus size stores that only go up to a 3XL and just resize thin people clothing.

They don't know what it's like being thankful to learn online that Plan B doesn't work for most fat people before you bought and assumed in a post-roe world that Plan B will be effective. They don't know what it's like to live in a world where everyone freely hates and discriminates against you without even having backlash from progressives and people who claim to support equality, because oppressing you is just accepted fact even to the people who fight for the rights of all of your other oppressed identities. They don't know what it's like to live in a world where hating you is so expected and normalized that it's ingrained into your own people to the point that you literally cannot trust that

anyone you meet

not a single person

who looks like you will share solidarity.

None.

Whenever a thin person suddenly becomes fat, that is the closest we have to a person realizing they've been living in the Matrix. The most intense epiphany you'll ever have is rapidly becoming fat and then seeing how this world changes for you almost overnight.

-Mod Worthy

[jaylaxies]

TEASER: CALL ME WHEN YOU HATE ME LESS

PAIRING: jake x fem!reader (ft. jaehyun and heeseung)

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, eventual fluff, porn with plot, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, choking, blowjob, using panties as a gag, spitting, edging, squirting, mentions of fighting, blood, usage of nicknames, slowburn if you squint, emotional trauma, lmk if i missed anything in the main fic!

TOTAL WORD COUNT: 18.3k words (estimated).

TEASER WORD COUNT: 1654 words.

SYNOPSIS: Jake Sim was a walking academic hazard—hot, broody, and failing just about everything that wasn’t football. Enter you, his new tutor: organized, overachieving, and absolutely not here for his attitude or his annoyingly perfect lips. But between late-night study sessions, petty insults, and one very inconvenient almost-kiss, things start spiraling—fast. He’s supposed to be you project. You are supposed to hate him. Instead, you both are one sarcastic comment away from either a breakdown or a makeout—and honestly, it could go either way.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni (the full fic will include smut).

A/N: hihi, angels! if you have seen this before then yes, it is a revamp of my jeno fic as requested by a few anons! i hope you guys will enjoy it! send an ask or comment to be added! <33 (make sure to have your age visible on your blog! blank blogs will not be added to the tl).

Chapter 1: Raised in Shadows, Told to Shine. 

Comparison. 

The core of all insecurities. The onset of overthinking. The path to self loathing. 

That’s what comparison does to a person—drive them to the edge of insanity in hopes of turning into something; into someone the others will look up to, compare themselves to. 

It was a bad thing per se, but it was motivation enough for Jake to work harder in order to leave the country, to get away from his family. 

The reason? His mother ever so conveniently happened to have fallen in love with a rich guy, someone who never knew what struggle meant, and Jake was just four back then, he didn’t bother changing his surname. It didn’t take much time for him to settle into the lifestyle, however, no matter how much he could have prepared to face his step-brother, he simply couldn’t bother looking him in the eye. 

Why? Because he was known to be the epitome of perfection. Jung Jaehyun was the son every parent wanted, the student every teacher was fond of, the doctor every nurse wanted to work with. 

The sweet dimple on his cheek was a great asset in melting the hearts of everyone in his proximity or afar. 

Jake on the other hand, wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t considered to be enough, especially when he got decent grades throughout his school life, he wasn’t a bother, kind to those who were around them, but it changed. 

It changed when he got daily reminders of how he wasn’t even close to how amazing and successful his step brother was. 

That’s when things started looking down for Jake. He stopped caring about the grades, he wasn’t sure why he was supposed to put up a I’m so good, so smart act in front of others when there was no reason for him to do that. 

Others didn’t bother doing the same for him. 

Rather, he tried to work upon the only thing he was passionate about, the only thing that mattered to him—football. 

Despite winning several trophies for playing the sport, his parents labelled it to be useless, which broke the last fragment of his heart, shattering it to the point of no return. 

Which would explain his current demeanor—moody, permanent scowl on his perfectly sculpted face and no care for the others around him. His sole focus being football, which is also the reason behind his current dilemma. 

“Being an excellent player in the sports team does not guarantee you your scholarship, Mr. Sim,” Jake’s teacher incharge spoke up, taking off her specs right after reviewing his annual grade report, “you’re failing three out of five modules, and if you don’t start getting back on track soon, then I’m afraid you won’t be able to play in the team anymore.” 

Fuck. 

Jake had been neglecting his studies, he admits, yet he never thought that he’d reach this point. It’s not that he wasn’t smart, he simply had no motivation to go on with his studies. His parents could easily pay the university to keep him around, however, he wanted nothing from them, which also explains why he got himself a scholarship in the first place. 

“I’m sorry if I’m late.” Jake’s eyes snapped wide open, turning back to see his step brother entering the teacher’s cabin. 

“Why are you here?” Jake asked, a muscle in his jaw twitching but Jaehyun only smiled. 

Jake’s professor was equally stunned, probably even more with her jaw wide open at the appearance of such a handsome young man. 

“I called him in since your parents were busy,” his professor said, handling Jake a letter, “go and find your tutor in the council room, she’ll be helping you with the upliftment of your grades, Mr. Lee, and now if you’ll excuse us, I’ve got to fill in your brother with your current situation,” she said the last part awfully sweetly as Jaehyun sat down in one of the vacant chairs, smiling at her kind tone. 

Jake scoffed, the demeanor change around Jaehyun went crazy and he wasn’t a fan of it, especially when he was called in to complain about his mistakes. 

He simply wanted to leave the university and never come back. 

He waited, taking deep breaths before punching the wall, not being able to contain his anger. The impact did hurt, yet he paid no heed to it, the blood dripping as he walked towards the council room to get over with the day. 

The name written on the sheet wasn’t unfamiliar to him, rather it only wearied the already infuriated boy as he knocked on the door of the student council room, which was empty except for you sitting there, working on a few papers which appeared to be the newsletter for the month. 

“Come in,” you allowed, not looking up as Jake made his way inside the room, observing the surroundings where he’s never been before. 

Then he looked your way, taking in your appearance. You looked cozy in your university varsity jacket, your specs sitting on your nose as you buried yourself in reading whatever it was that you were reading. He couldn’t deny you looked pretty in a way that’s comforting to eyes. 

With no words exchanged, he pushed the letter towards you, which finally made you look up at the source of disturbance, your eyebrows raising slightly as you most certainly did not expect the star football player to visit you in the council room, which he’s never been to before. 

He simply stood there, hands shoved into his pockets while still looking around, and you took a second to grab the letter, skimming over to read and understand that the letter was given by Mrs. Kim, the teacher in charge of your department, requesting you to take up the few teaching sessions you had applied for, Jake being the student you’ll have to teach for the same. 

You clicked your tongue, folding the letter exactly as it was before pushing it his way, your arms folding across your chest as you finally spoke up, “I reject. I don’t wish to teach you.”

His eyes were quick to snap towards you, finally staring right into your own eyes, irritation clear as he pushed his tongue on his inner cheek, eyebrow raised. 

“Aren’t you supposed to kiss your professor’s feet, given that you’re in student council? And here I thought you’d be a good girl.” Jake rasped, resting his arms on your table, leaning down to your level. 

You chuckled, expecting the exact response from him, “this is exactly why I don’t want to waste my time on you—you athletes don’t wish to study, you just require a passing grade, for which, I don’t have time to spare.” 

“What the fuck do you mean waste your time?” 

“Sim Jake, you’ve got more money with you than your bank account can handle, so I’m sure losing your scholarship won’t do you much harm,” you said with a sickening smile, “you’ve got no interest in studying, your attendance record states that oh so proudly.” 

“You don’t know shit about me,” Jake seethed out, messy hair strands falling over his eyes. 

“I know everything I need to know about you. Now excuse me, unlike you, I actually have work to do,” you said, passing him a tight lipped smile, not letting the proximity faze you. 

“You—” 

Jake’s sentence was cut short with two sharp knocks on the slightly ajar door, a head peeking in, successfully garnering your attention. You could feel your mood doing one eighty with the sudden intrusion of this stranger—whom you didn’t wish to be a stranger around anymore, your eyes softening, lips parting as you stared at him in awe. 

Meanwhile, if Jake thought that the day was done being a bitch to him, then he was wrong because the level of irritation that bubbled up in him the moment he saw the change in your expressions. 

“Sorry to interrupt, may I get in?” Jaehyun asked, smiling his usual dimpled smile, which had you swooning in record time. 

You could practically see veins of frustration popping out on Jake’s neck, “no. Your work is done, you should head back home,” he groaned, but Jaehyun only looked you way, continuing to get in, looking your way. 

“I’m Jaehyun, Jake’s elder brother. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing on giving him tutoring lessons, especially with how busy you must be with council duties,” he spoke up, shaking your hand, which was smaller in his warm, big hands. 

Jake scoffed, “she’s not—”

“Of course, Jaehyun! It’s my pleasure to help him out, and it’ll only help me better with my extracurricular credits! It’s no problem,” you nodded, a gentle smile on your face as your eyes practically twinkled with excitement, taking in the beauty that Jaehyun beheld. 

It was ridiculous. 

It was absurd how just two sentences; paired with a sweet smile from his brother, were enough for you to change your decision, in the span of two seconds at that. 

He tightened the hold he had on the strap of his black bag, “no fucking need. I’ll find another tutor,” Jake deadpanned, walking out of the room, not paying attention to Jaehyun who called out his name in the background. 

He wouldn’t let you use him to get to his brother. 

With that thought, he decided to detour and make his way to the gym, trying to blow off steam by practicing punching, each one getting progressively stronger as his mind replayed the difference in your behaviour when it came to him and his brother. 

It didn’t bother him that his knuckles were bruising, he knew he needed this extrinsic pain to get rid of the obvious hurt he felt each day. 

And he couldn’t understand why he felt so affected by your actions, especially when it was the first time you had met. 

Jealousy was indeed a bitch. 

permanent taglist:

@jaeminvore @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @en-myworld @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @ikeuizm @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd @skzenhalove @heesuncore @seuomo @kyurizeu @haechan-nahceah @tobiosbbyghorl @jezzebear @jaehoonii @itsgivingitalian @bunhoons @hyacandoit @luvswonyoung @ma-riiii @addictedtohobi @heeliopheelia @haanigurl @dopedels @kaykay11sworld @glitterjay @skzooluvr @yongbokified @prkhaven

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[mmywanda]

Pretty When You Sleep — W.M

——

Pairing: Dark!WandaMaximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Nights are lot more dangerous than you think.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, somnophilia, drugging, blood, murder, stalking, mentions of a knives, strap-on.

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: This is a dark fic, if you find any of the warnings triggering, please do not read. Happy Halloween! men & minors dni.

Beta read by @poulengp <3

——

It started off small.

All the shoes you left in a mess by the door now neatly stacked up, laces undone, just so they were easier to slip on. The lamp you'd accidently leave on before falling asleep, being off when you woke up in the morning. Clothes that were dumped on the floor, suddenly folded up in your drawer.

Then it got weirder.

Your purse being filled with fifty dollar bills on the mornings you worried you wouldn't have enough to afford your groceries. Some of your clothes, specifically underwear, going missing. Your phone being in the other room when you woke up. Waking up with different pyjama bottoms on.

As it got worse, you found yourself confiding in your friend. Well, a little more than a friend, but the two of you had never labelled it. The two of you sat in the corner of a local cafe, coffee warming up your hands. It was a cool autumn day, causing you to wrap up in a scarf and fluffy coat. This crimson coloured scarf had suddenly appeared in your closet, right when you needed it. It should have been wrong to wear something that had inexplicably appeared in your home, but it was cold, and what else were you to do?

"It's just getting weird. Even the leftovers in my fridge that were about to be mouldy are being thrown away. I see it in my garbage bag. And you know me, I don't even throw it out until it's literally gone blue."

Erin laughed, "You're quite careless. And disgusting." Yes, you were, but that wasn't the point!

"Shush. I'm actually worried here. I'm starting to think.. no.. no one can be breaking into my apartment every night, I'd wake up and hear them. God, I think I'm going mad." You mumbled, hand gripping tightly around the coffee mug. It reminded you of the time you'd left a cold cup of tea on the side, and had fallen asleep. When you woke up an hour later, the cup was hot, as if it had just been warmed up again.

"You've added another lock to your door, you don't even have a spare key for it. It's impossible for someone to break in. And you live on the top floor. Honey, you've been exhausted recently, it's not uncommon for people to get forgetful. You probably did those things while sleepy." Erin reassured you, placing a hand over yours.

You sighed deeply, downing the last drops of drink you had left, Erin doing the same. "Yeah, you're probably right. It's just.. strange."

—

As you entered your apartment late at night, instead of throwing your keys carelessly on a table, you decided to tuck them in the nightstand by your bed. Just to be safe, even if it was just for your own peace of mind. You jumped into the shower, cracking open the window so the steam could be let out. You lived on the top floor of your block, no one could look in, which was always a good thing because your bathroom got very steamy, recently the ceiling paper even curling at the side from the condensation. Making a mental note to look up the prices for someone to redecorate.

You really needed a shower today, you and Erin had gotten a little.. excited earlier, and it always made you cringe not showering before bed after an evening of sex. Under the warm water, you hummed a song you'd had stuck in your head all day. It was a song you didn't even recognise, in fact you weren't even sure you'd heard it before. All you knew was that it was in a different language, and it was comforting.

Once clean, you felt overwhelmingly tired, it had been a long day, so you decided to go straight to bed after having your usual cup of camomile tea, with two spoons of sugar. Then you got into bed. Before you could doze off though, you decided to read for a bit, opening up your latest novel of your favourite author. It can't have been too exciting though, because you fell asleep before the first chapter was over.

When dawn broke, the early sun breaking through cracks in your window, you stirred, blinking a few times. Something felt strange, like every morning for the past few months. You felt a stickiness between your thighs, and your pyjama bottoms were definitely not the ones you fell asleep in. You stared down at the light blue shorts, eyebrows furrowed. Were you a sleepwalker? No, your past roommates would have told you. Maybe you'd had a really good dream and just forgotten it? Fuck, this was weird.

Deciding there was nothing you could really do about the situation, you got up, opting to take another shower to get rid of the icky feeling.

It was when you were munching on your chocolate flavoured cereal that you heard your phone ping. Automatically, you put your spoon down, picking up the device you so heavily relied upon. It was a text from an unknown number, causing you to frown. Opening it, you saw there was a picture attached to the text. And when you examined it, your blood ran cold.

It was a picture of you, naked in bed. Your body spread out, intimate area completely exposed.

"What the fuck?" You whispered, reading what had come with it.

Unknown number: Three orgasms in one night, that's your record so far.

You didn't know what to think— someone had.. touched you while you were asleep? They broke in and did this to you? You shivered in fear, your shaky hands typing out a response before you could even think about what the police would say if you went to them; to not engage with a dangerous person.

You: Who the fuck is this?

There was no reply. Not when you left for work, not when you arrived home in the evening.

You were rigid with fear. A sensible person would have called the police, or at least called someone like Erin, asked to stay over, but you just couldn't. Every time you were about to dial a number, something inside you made you stop. You couldn't explain it.

So here you were, sat bolt upright on your couch. It was around eleven, and your eyes were growing heavy. Your camomile tea mug now empty, you blinked a few times, just aching to lay down and rest. No, you had to stay up! You had to see who had been breaking into your home. But.. you were so tired, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over you. Your eyes closed slowly, slumping down and falling into a deep sleep.

—

The next morning the first thing you did was check your phone, seeing if the stranger had replied, and they had. Two images attached to a message. And what you saw horrified you. The first picture, one of you in bed, with a.. strap-on, buried inside you. It made you feel sick, that someone had done this to you unwillingly. Though the expression on your face, clearly asleep but pleasure in your features. You could even see your own arousal dripping down the toy.

The second image quite literally made you throw up, You ran to the bathroom, heaving into the toilet bowl as the picture burned in your mind. It had been someone laying on a floor, covered in blood, a knife wedged in their chest.

You had to go to the police. There was no choice now. For some reason, you looked back at the picture, and your mouth dropped open. That someone was a familiar.

It was Erin.

You just knew, it was her jacket, her brown eyes wide open in fear, her blue dyed hair drenched in her own blood. It caused you to throw up again.

—

"I—I think my best friend has been murdered."

You whispered in a shaky voice to a police officer who had sat you down in a cold grey room. After seeing what you'd been sent, not even reading the message that had come with it, you rushed down to the local police station, practically screaming for someone to talk to.

"Why do you suspect this?" He asked in a gruff voice. He didn't seem to be all that serious about the situation, upsetting you even further.

"I've got pictures! And texts!" Your fingers fumbled around your pocket to retrieve your phone, opening your messages app.

It wasn't there.

"So?" The officer prompted, clearly unimpressed.

"It was.. it was right here.." You mumbled, opening every contact you had in case it had magically gotten messed up.

But no, the messages had vanished.

"Look, lady, I think you should go home and get some rest. You look tired. Our minds make things up when we're lacking sleep."

"But—"

"Listen, if something happens, come back in. But for now, you're making empty claims."

Hanging your head down dejectedly, you fought back tears. You knew Erin was dead. You just knew it.

—

Tonight you weren't going to fall asleep. Just to make sure, you downed two mugs of strong coffee instead of your tea. You hated it, but you couldn't risk falling asleep. The intruder— the murderer, was going to break in, you were sure.

The time ticked on. Eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, one o'clock..

Until your phone buzzed. Dread washed over you. There was no one else who would be making your phone light up at this time of night.

Unknown number: How am I meant to enjoy you when you don't have your tea? You look so pretty when you sleep.

This confused you. Why would they be concerned about what beverage you were drinking? You typed out a response quickly.

You: I'm not scared of you.

It was a stupid thing to say, you knew that really. But the only thing you could think of was to pretend you weren't scared. Maybe that would make them bored and leave you alone. All you could think about what Erin's lifeless body. The blood, god.. all that blood..

Unknown number: See you soon, sweetheart.

Your eyes widened in horror; what the fuck did that mean? This person was on their way? Sickness rose up in your throat, and you ran to your kitchen, grabbing the first sharp object you could find— a medium sized kitchen knife. You clutched it to your chest, running to your bedroom, locking the door and panting heavily. You considered pushing some furniture against the door, but you knew you needed to call the police. Then you realised you'd left your phone in the kitchen.

Fuck! Fuck!

You had put yourself in the worst position possible. But before you could panic over that, you felt a gust of cold air. You frowned, turning around to see the window wide open. You definitely hadn't left it like that before, but it was also impossible for anyone else to have opened it. You lived on the top floor for Christ's sake!

Not knowing what to do first; close the window, get your phone, block the door, or just curl up in a ball and hope it would all just go away. You opted for grabbing your phone. If you could call the police, they'd be on their way, hopefully before your stalker could arrive.

Cautiously unlocking the bedroom door, you stepped out into the hallway. The lights that had previously been on, were off, leaving the whole apartment pitch black apart from the moon shining through the windows and the bedroom light.

Your steps were slow, ears straining to hear anything, but there was silence. The only sound heard was the hammering of your heart in your chest.

Until the silence was broken.

"Seeing you awake is strange. But exciting nonetheless."

The voice came from right behind you. Spinning around in horror, you finally came face to face with the person who had been tormenting you.

"Tormenting? That's a bit harsh, sweetheart."

The woman was dressed in all black, a hood covering most of her face. Light from the bedroom accentuated her figure, but more importantly, the silhouette of a knife and a cloth in her hands.

"W—who are you?" It was an attempt at a shout, maybe to attract the attention of the apartment below you, but your voice could barely manage a squeak.

"I've told you before, baby. You're a forgetful thing when you're asleep, mhm?" She stepped forward, causing you to take a step back.

"You've been taking advantage of me! You've been breaking into my home! You killed.. Erin!" You whispered, backing up against the wall. You had no where to go. You were most likely to die, just like Erin.

"Sweet girl, I'm not going to kill you. I could never hurt you." The woman's voice was almost softer as she approached you, only two feet away now. Was she reading your mind?

"But you killed my friend." The images of Erin's body filled your mind, and how you were going to end up just like her.

"Your 'friend'? Please, she was begging for her own life, not for you to be safe." She let out a cold laugh. "It was so satisfying, the sound of my blade tearing through her flesh and tissue." It almost sounded like she'd gotten pleasure from it

Finally, you got some sense and energy into you as she expressed her fucked up feelings. You let out a shattering scream, "HELP! HELP!"

The woman sighed in disappointment. It took her less than a second to raise the cloth up to your face, covering your nose and mouth. The smell of chemicals was overwhelming. You fought against it, until you couldn't anymore. Body falling limp to the ground.

—

The noise that woke you up was the sound of a squeaking. Your eyes wouldn't open, wondering what was going on. You then felt something inside you, a pressure building up in your lower stomach. What—

Finally, your vision became clearer. You blinked a few times, looking around you. The scene became pretty clear.

The woman was in between your legs, a strap-on buried inside you, just like that photo. The squeaking was the bed as she thrusted into you.

You should have screamed, but the pressure in your abdomen was too intense. You let out a whine, trying to move your tired body, but it was useless. You didn't even want to stop it, it felt too.. good.

"You're awake." She stated, a slight pant in her voice. Her hood was down now, revealing her auburn wavy hair, pale skin and deep green eyes.

"Let me.." You trailed off, because you didn't know whether to say 'go' or 'come'.

She let out a chuckle, holding your hips firmly as she thrusted into you. The feeling was delicious. Something about the fact your body was sleepy, heavy, while being fucked by a woman so dangerous..

No! Why are you thinking like this? It almost felt like your thoughts weren't yours anymore. Were you going insane?

The woman grunted, wet noises filling the room, making it very apparent that your body did not hate this at all. "You can come for me, it'll be your third."

Your third? You couldn't even bring yourself to ask about it, your body just trembled, a pending orgasm taking over, making you whimper in delight.

"Fuck!"

Tears filled your eyes from the sheer pleasure, and the fact that you should have hated this. You were filled with so much shame and guilt. This was the person who had killed your best friend, who'd stripped you of your dignity.

"Shh, darling, you don't have to feel guilty. You're allowed to feel pleasure. And your friend, well, she was just in the way."

Her twisted words made you feel sick again, but you didn't have time to dwell on that because the woman's hand suddenly reached down and started to circle your clit while simultaneously thrusting into you. A loud groan escaped your throat, eyes practically rolling to the back of your head.

"You're going to beat your record, four times will be an achievement." Her accented voice was hot and heavy, turning you on even more.

"I— mhm!" You tried to speak, but you didn't know what to say.

"Let go, detka, show me how good I make you feel." She gripped your waist with her spare hand, red manicured nails digging into your skin.

Without warning, you came hard, spilling all over the strap. The woman moaned, slowing down her thrusts and eventually pulling out, leaving you unbearably empty. She slipped the strap off and went to straddle you, leaning her head down to kiss your neck. You felt utter bliss, forgetting how incredibly fucked up and sick this was.

"Seeing as this is the first time we've met while you've been conscious, I'll introduce myself. I'm Wanda." She giggled, as if nothing had just happened, and had been happening for months. Your head spun, recognising that name somehow, as if it had been spoken in your dreams.

"Relax now, sweet thing. I'll be here when you wake up." Wanda said softly, lying beside you, wrapping the duvet around your naked body. Her arm laid loosely across your stomach, hearing her breathing slow down to something calmer than before.

You didn't say anything, too busy feeling a wave of satisfaction, as awful as that sounded. It was like your mind was used to this, and that it was something you'd always wanted.

The last thing you remembered was a soft lullaby, in a language you didn't recognise. You'd heard it before, in your dreams. And it brought you great comfort.

——

Tags: @rezwrites @hatdog96 @ion-news @esposadejoyhuerta @moimmmm @grimlygoblin @lizziesflower @yandereloverb312 @beggingonmykneesforher

——

[semperama]

Sorry, still thinking about this post and my tags on it, and if you think about it, Eddie has been acting like a sheepdog, guiding Buck into the most comfortable, close-enough-but-not-too-close spot in his life from pretty much the very beginning. They are established as partners early on, with them literally promising to have each other's backs, and then proving it when Buck starts helping with Chris in 2x04 and introduces Eddie to Carla. And pretty much starting then, you can see Eddie begin doing this dance. During the tsunami arc, Buck has started to pull away because of his injury, so Eddie drops Chris off with him. And afterward, Buck is blaming himself and prepared to pull away again, and Eddie knows this and shows up and hits him with a, "There's no one in this world I trust with my son more than you."

Then there's the infamous grocery store fight, the first time their partnership is really threatened, and Eddie lashes out and reminds Buck where his place is. ("Do you know how much Chris misses you?" and "I couldn't even call you to bail me out of jail.") Then Buck gets it, and we get the kitchen scene, but while we're all focused on the flirting (for good reason!) what's also happening is that Eddie is deflecting all the real questions. Buck pushes, "If you can't be honest with Frank, at least be honest with me," but Eddie just keeps cracking jokes, and they never really do get to the heart of the matter. Eddie's content that he has Buck back where he needs him; they don't have to actually talk about what happened or why in a real way.

But of course the most obvious time it happens is with the will. And the fact that Eddie puts Buck in his will a year before he tells him about it. He anchors Buck into his and Chris's life, but he only tells Buck when Buck has started to doubt his place during the shooting arc. It's actually an insane choice to put your best friend in your will without even having a conversation about it first, but Eddie can't face that conversation. Not until Buck is trying to place himself farther outside the "Buck Zone of Comfort" that Eddie has drawn in his mind, and then he has to just carefully nudge him riiiight back over the line. You're not expendable, not to me.

(Adding a cut, because this is getting long.)

The reason he's getting all snarly now is because leaving for Texas exposed this dance Eddie's been doing in a way that can't be ignored, because this is the first time Eddie himself has pushed Buck away, rather than some circumstance or NDE or Buck's own issues. If things were normal between them, Eddie could have involved Buck from the beginning, but he couldn't do that without deciding once and for all, is Buck just my friend, or is he more than that? Because if he's just a friend, then he can just help me move and be happy for me. But if he's more than that, then I don't think either of us can handle being apart, but I have no choice. But of course Eddie can't deal with thinking about any of that, so he just puts up a wall between himself and Buck by not talking to him about it at all until Buck finds out, and even then he keeps it minimal (ex: Buck tries to help him pick a house, but in the end Eddie picks one out and puts a down payment on it without consulting Buck at all).

I don't think either of them really gets what's behind it yet. Like, they know that it feels bad for Eddie to leave, but they don't fully understand why. Eddie won't let himself think about it, and Buck I think can't even conceive of the idea that Eddie might care about him that way, mostly because of his own trauma and lack of self-esteem. Eddie probably realizes they've reached a point where he can't position Buck back inside that Zone of Comfort, but I'm not sure if he knows that the only way to do it would be to put a label on what they are to each other, which he will NOT let himself do.

He does still try to do the push-and-pull thing again while he's in Texas with all the FaceTiming. He knows he's made Buck feel expendable again, so he tries to undo that by consulting him on all these big things he crucially did not consult him on before leaving: his job, Chris, his relationship with his parents. He feels more comfortable being emotionally close to Buck when there's all this physical distance between them.

But now, he's back, and Bobby's dead, and everything's more fragile than ever. Buck is closed off to him, so Eddie tries to remind him of his place again by bringing Chris back. But it only sort of works, because what now? They are living in the same house, but they both have this knowledge now of what it feels to be 800 miles apart, and what it feels to not share their grief with each other, and what it feels to not be a family, so they can't really just go back to how things were.

So Eddie does the exact wrong thing. He still plans to go back to El Paso. Even after it seemed like he came back--maybe even came back FOR BUCK--as soon as they're back to the fire station, he pulls out his phone and starts looking for flights. I don't know if we'll see this on screen, but I believe this is the moment that Buck gets it. Eddie has been trying to have it both ways, to keep Buck close but not too close. I doubt either of them really know what that means for how they feel about each other, but I do think Buck gets that he's going to be miserable unless he "lets Eddie go" in some capacity, which is why he starts looking for a new place to live.

I highly doubt Eddie is going to deal with this well, but for the first time, it's going to be basically impossible to fix this without acknowledging how he feels. Looking forward to finding out what it's going to take for him to do that!

[sweetstrawberryys]

"Language, Soldier!"

Summary: Simon “Ghost” Riley finally has the perfect family—his loving wife and their little son, Ghostie. But old habits die hard, and Simon’s military swearing is legendary. His wife and son hatch a plan: a swear jar that’s filling up fast. When Simon’s team comes over for dinner, nobody is safe from the swear jar—and the family’s about to cash in big time.

Rating: Fluff overload. Found family. Ghost and his perfect family. Tf141 being big grumps. Ghostie gets rich rich.

Masterlist

---

The kitchen smelled like garlic and rosemary, warm and inviting. Simon “Ghost” Riley stood at the stove, expertly flipping chicken breasts with a practiced hand, though he kept glancing nervously at the small jar on the counter. It was an unassuming glass jar with a bright pink label slapped on it that read “SWEAR JAR” in glittery letters.

His wife, radiant and soft, leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. Their son, barely two but already suspiciously aware of the world, sat in his high chair, shaking a tiny piggy bank with a grin that could melt any hardened soldier’s heart.

“Simon,” she called, voice dripping with honey, “I’m telling you, this thing is making us filthy rich.”

Simon rolled his eyes but smiled, “Yeah, yeah. You and the little gremlin making money off my bad habits.”

Ghostie squealed and clapped his hands as his mom dropped a few coins into the jar. “More money! More money!”

Ghost glanced at the jar, then back at his son, and sighed. “At this rate, I’ll have to start talking like a nun. Or a bloody monk.”

She laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Or maybe just watch your language.”

Before he could answer, the doorbell rang. Simon wiped his hands on a towel and went to open it, revealing his entire team: Soap, Price, and Gaz, all carrying bottles and good spirits.

“Evening, Ghost,” Soap greeted, grinning wide. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just a quiet family dinner,” Simon’s wife said sweetly, eyes gleaming with a mischievous light.

Simon shot her a look but said nothing.

As the team filtered in, Ghostie’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Daddy’s friends!” he squealed, pointing at Soap, who crouched down to say hi.

Once everyone was settled at the table, the first plate of food passed around, and the wine poured, the real fun began.

Price was the first to slip. “Fuck,” he muttered as he missed the gravy boat and nearly spilled it on the floor.

Instantly, Ghost’s wife chimed in with a grin, “That’s five coins.”

Everyone’s eyes flicked to the jar, which suddenly seemed to glow ominously in the soft light.

Soap burst out laughing. “You’re shitting me. We’re actually paying for swearing?”

Simon shrugged. “Welcome to married life.”

---

As the evening rolled on, the team’s colorful language only got more creative. Gaz cursed under his breath about the cold draft near the window; Soap swore loud enough to make even a sailor blush; Price’s insults aimed at the dessert being “too bloody sweet” made everyone chuckle—and drop coins.

Ghostie, catching on, gleefully added to the jar each time his mom handed him a coin.

At one point, Simon himself cursed when a napkin flew into the salad bowl, earning a teasing smirk from his wife and a hefty contribution to the jar.

The room buzzed with warmth, laughter, and the occasional beep of a coin hitting glass.

---

As the night wound down and plates were cleared, Ghost’s wife counted the loot with a sparkle in her eyes.

“Well,” she announced, “we’ve got enough for a family day out… and maybe a new bike for Ghostie.”

Simon wrapped an arm around her, feeling more relaxed than he had in years. “Guess I’m gonna have to learn some new words.”

She smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Or just keep letting us cash in on your colorful language.”

Ghostie yawned, already half-asleep in his chair, clutching his piggy bank.

Simon scooped him up, feeling that perfect blend of exhaustion and joy. “Best damn family I’ve ever had,” he whispered.

And with that, the swear jar sat quietly on the counter, ready for its next round of “offenses.”

[cressidagrey]

Like Origami

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Part of the The mysterious Mrs. Piastri Series.

Summary:   Felicity folds their lives around Oscar’s. 

Warnings and Notes: Big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble 😂

Oscar had always known that being an F1 driver came with a cost.

Time, mostly. Energy. Pieces of himself chipped away across continents — interviews, debriefs, simulator hours, long-haul flights that blurred the edges of his life into airport lounges and hotel lobbies. 

He missed sleep. He missed Bedtime. He missed Bee’s first attempt at drawing a cat (which looked more like a haunted pancake). He missed days at home with Felicity. 

But it never really broke him.

Because Felicity never let it.

Being an F1 driver required everything. His time. His focus. His body. His brain. It asked for obsession and then demanded more. And somehow, Felicity had folded their entire life around it — not like a sacrifice, but like origami. Seamless. Beautiful. Functional.

Their schedules bent around his. Flights arranged, appointments timed, Bee’s activities slotted into neat little windows that didn’t collide with debriefs or simulator days or media obligations. The chaos of the racing calendar never touched him at home — because Felicity had already smoothed it out.

She handled the mortgage and the taxes and the kindergarten applications. She learned the structure of F1 contracts before he even signed his first one. Their fridge always had the right snacks, Bee always had backup outfits in her cubby at Kindergarten, and Oscar never, ever had to think about whether they were low on laundry detergent.

The garden bloomed when he was home. Dinners appeared like magic. Bee’s schedule adjusted itself so he could still read her a bedtime story before she fell asleep drooling on his shoulder. The house was calm. Meals were warm. The only thing he ever had to remember was where his slippers were.

Oscar never asked Felicity to built their lives around his.

She just did it.

Without fanfare. Without passive-aggressive remarks or pointed silences. Felicity folded their entire world into a rhythm that let him chase speed while never falling apart.

There were meals in the freezer labeled with dates and instructions. Garden vegetables cleaned, chopped, and tucked into glass containers. His race gear was always washed, his vitamins stocked, his passport renewed before he even thought to check. When he came home, the house felt like a deep breath. Like rest.

When he was home, she never handed him a to-do list.

She handed him their daughter.

And that was it.

He didn’t have to manage groceries or bills or appointments. He didn’t have to double-check if Bee had clean socks or if the chickens had eaten or if the plumber was coming Thursday. He didn’t even have to pack his kit —because Felicity had already done it, tucked a protein bar into the side pocket and added a hand-written note.

No expectation to fix the fence or organise the pantry or figure out why the hot water pressure was acting up in the guest shower. She’d already handled it. Or would. What she needed was him. 

Just him. Present and soft and theirs.

Oscar didn’t know how to explain it to people who hadn’t lived it. Who hadn’t walked through the door at 1 a.m. after a red-eye and found their home warm and humming, their child asleep in a bed full of storybooks and dreams, and their wife sitting at the kitchen table with tea and a smile that made him forget every horrible session that came before.

All he had to do was come home and be.

Be Bee’s dad. Be Felicity’s husband. Be the quiet, tired, grateful version of himself that only existed within their walls. The one who didn’t have to be sharp-edged or interview-ready. The one who could collapse on the floor and let his daughter crawl onto his back mid-storytime. 

Felicity had made a life that worked around his — so that when he walked back into it, he wasn’t expected to fix or lead or plan.

He was expected to rest.

To hold Bee.

To breathe.

He’d never asked Felicity to do any of it. She just did.

She learned what days he needed quiet. She knew when he was withdrawing too far into his own head. She knew how to keep the house humming while giving him space to exhale — without making him feel like he was failing for needing it.

And that was what broke him, sometimes. Quietly. Privately.

Because Felicity never made him feel like a burden. Never held it over his head. Never once made him feel like she’d put her life on hold for his.

But she had.

Not because she was dependent.

Because she chose to.

Because she loved him.

Because she believed in him enough to bend the edges of their world so that, when he came home, all he had to do was walk through the door and exist.

Oscar wasn’t naïve. He knew she was brilliant. That she could be doing anything. That she could be running companies or winning awards or building something extraordinary in her own right. And in some ways, she already was.

Because their life — their quiet, beautiful, functioning, chaotic life — was something only Felicity could’ve built.

And he would spend the rest of his life making sure she knew he saw it.

Even if she never asked him to.

He didn’t know how to repay that. Not with wins. Not with flowers. 

But every time she curled into his side at night, every time Bee reached for him with sticky fingers and sleepy eyes, Oscar knew one thing for certain:

The only thing he had to do now — the only thing he wanted to do — was show up for them, again and again, and never, ever forget what it took to make this possible.

Felicity held up their life like it was nothing.

And that made it everything.

***

Oscar realized it while sitting at the kitchen counter, barefoot and still damp from his post-run shower, a half-drunk protein shake sweating beside his laptop. The house was quiet—Bee at kindergarten, Felicity out in the garden talking to the hens like they were co-workers—and he was meant to be going through the calendar Mark had sent over. Just blocking out dates, syncing with Felicity’s schedule, adding a few notes.

He scrolled.

Paused.

Scrolled back.

July 21st. Hungarian Grand Prix. Bee’s birthday.

His stomach dropped.

He stared at the screen like it might change, like maybe the dates would shift if he just blinked hard enough. But they didn’t. The 21st stayed where it was, bright and bold, nestled between two practice days and a press briefing.

Bee was turning four.

Four. The age where memories stuck like glue. Where birthdays became important—not just cake and balloons, but promises. Traditions. She’d been talking about it for months. Sea-themed cupcakes. A dolphin-shaped cake. A sparkly blue dress.

And he’d nodded, said “I’ll be there, Bumblebee,” without realizing the truth sitting quietly in his own damn schedule.

The guilt hit him like a sucker punch—instant, sharp, and mean.

He didn’t even remember walking out to the garden. Just the disjointed blur of grabbing his phone, sliding open the back door, and calling out, “Fliss?”

Felicity turned from where she knelt by the herb beds, sunhat perched on her head, dirt smudged on her wrist. “Everything okay?”

“I need to talk to you.”

She wiped her hands on her jeans “Oscar?”

His voice cracked a little. “Hungary’s on Bee’s birthday.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I didn’t realize,” he said. “God, I didn’t realize, and now I feel like the worst—I promised her, Fliss, I told her I’d be there—”

“Hey,” she interrupted, standing now, brushing grass off her knees. “Breathe.”

“I was supposed to be there,” he said again, softer this time. “She’s been planning it for months. The dolphin cake, the cupcakes, the balloons—and I just—how did I miss it?”

“You didn’t,” Felicity said gently. “You’re just juggling a hundred other things. But you’re not missing it.”

He blinked. “What?”

She smiled, walking toward him across the grass, sunlight catching the gold chain around her neck. “I already booked the flights.”

Oscar just stared at her.

“I figured it out last week,” she added. “Called Mark, sorted the paddock passes. Bee’s excited about it. She wants to wear her dolphin dress to the track and bring cupcakes for the engineers.”

He was stunned. “You’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious,” she said. “You’re her dad. You don’t miss her birthday unless you’re in space. We’ll come to you. It’s just geography.”

“But—race weekend—media—timings—”

Felicity reached for his hand. “She doesn’t care about any of that. She wants her papa to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ slightly off-key and help her blow out candles. That’s what matters.”

Oscar scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly breathless with love and relief and the unbearable ache of it all. “How do you always fix everything?”

Felicity shrugged. “Because I know you. And I know her.”

And just like that, the weight lifted.

He’d still be racing that weekend. Still chasing tenths and points and podiums.

But when Bee turned four, Oscar wouldn’t be missing him.