#yet conventionally attractive women do? oh! it’s because you’re a woman and no matter what you do you can’t win!

[dxmedstudent]

From the total female populations of London and Cambridge – the cities between which he split his time – Seagull selected those roughly his age and up to 10 years younger. Then he reduced that group to the proportion that were likely to be university educated, to reflect the reality of his networks, as a school maths teacher and doctorate student.Then came a harder parameter: what fraction Seagull might find attractive. After going through his Facebook friends list, he found 1,200 women who met his criteria for age, location and education – and of one in every 20, he says he thought that he “could imagine us, in another life”.

I find these kinds of things interesting. The formula makes sense - there’s a finite number of people in your geographical area who might meet your criteria, and  you’ll probably like a small number of those; some of whom might like you back. He decides only about 70 or so people meet his criteria. Which seems... a little low. A lot of commenters found his age criteria problematic. Would a 22 year old woman really have as much in common with him as a woman a couple of months older? People often try to cite pseudoscience on this count; that men want young and fertile women, but most women are fertile and interested in having kids well into their 30s and often 40s. In reality most people end up with a partner of a similar age to them, and there’s a lot of variation between people. I have to admit, I was wary of guys who refused to date women even a little older than them, and those who refused to date women their age were a definite ‘no’ - can any man actully tell that a woman is  2 or 3 years older than him by her looks or actions? No, so why would it be something that prevents attraction or compatibility. There’s something sexist behind thinking like that which I can’t get behind. Most of us want people at a similar life stage to us, but to me, if someone has a very fixed idea of what they find attractive, that inflexibility is itself a problem. I’m not going to be in my early 30s forever, and I want a partner who doesn’t feel that only women in a narrow age range are interesting. Likewise, I’m not obese, but I wouldn’t want  a man who can’t see bigger women as attractive. I’d want to know that if I gained weight, he would love me for who I was; I know I’d do the same. And also if a man stated he’s only into caucasian women; I’d be wary. I wanted to be with someone who would consider and value others for who they are and who can see beauty in all sorts of people, not just conventionally attractive young women, even if I happen to be one. I don’t want a partner who doesn’t see other women as people. That said, it drives home that even if you’re on a dating site with thousands of people, the ones that meet your criteria will be a small proprotion. That’s why it’s important to consider your criteria carefully. Are they reasonable? Are they really non-negotiable? For example, I can’t stand smoking and wouldn’t date someone politically conservative, but didn’t really think about height and weight. Yes, I think it really is a bit too picky to only date a guy if he’s tall or well-built. Yes, people have preferences, but the less we let ourselves be blinded by preconceptions, the more likely we are not to miss someone special because they didn’t meet a criterion that doesn’t really matter. Pick your criteria carefully.

This is where optimal-stopping theory can come into play, identifying the point in a process at which to stop for best results – and here the magic number, says Seagull, is 37%. Say he wanted to be in a relationship by the age of 40, and was prepared to commit to going on two dates a week, for 50 weeks of the year, for five years: 500 dates total. Optimal-stopping theory would have Seagull go on 185 dates – taking him the best part of two years – then, armed with the insights he gained along the way, pursue the woman he liked best from the 186th on.“You don’t know at what stage in these 500 dates you will meet your most suited person, and you’re probably going to miss them – but mathematically, this is how you can settle better.“This is where you really need to trust the maths – you might think that the first person you meet is amazing, but you’ve got to get through the first 185. If we simulated our lives a million times, the person that you would date best would still be after 185.”

But where do these numbers come from? Optimal stopping theories basically suggests you need to work out how many people you want to date before you settle down, then dating X number before you settle on the first one who meets your criteria. Now, that gives you a bit of experience and an idea of what you want, but dealing with people isn’t like picking dice out of a bag. You can’t tell when someone nice will come up. In real life, some people spend happy 50 year marriages with the first person they dated, or the 5th, or the 27th. You aren’t guaranteed to find a good date after 185 that you liked as much as date 1 - maths suggesting you’d be likely to make a statistically good match can’t necessarily factor in that you might miss better matches in your earlier dates. So it makes no sense to throw over dates you like early on in the hope that later on you’ll probably like someone else just as much, or they might be better. By the time you reach your number, anyone you liked from the previous 185 dates will probably have paired up and moved on, so it’s not like you can always go back to people you thought were nice. It seems more sensible to treat each person as a person; if you like them, stick around and see.

Now 35 and still single, Seagull has continued his investigation into “making the maths of love work for you” in his book, The Life-Changing Magic of Numbers, as well as on dates....

I am surprised to learn that he has only been on seven or eight dates since doing Drake’s equation a few years ago. Maybe his mum was right when, on seeing his formula, she told him he was being ridiculous, and “to go out and meet people”.“I’m terrible,” he admits. “I leave a long gap between dates. After a date, if you didn’t have a good time, you feel despondent. I had another date, where I liked her and she didn’t like me. As a human, you get upset. That’s why scientists trust the maths: keep going.”

Lots of commenters point this out, and are a little cruel about the fact that even with his formula, he’s still single. OK, it’s pretty obvious that if your entire strategy is ‘go on lots of dates’ and you don’t then you will fail. But I’d like to propose that there needs to be a balance between quantity and quality. On the one hand, talking to a few people at a time means that he wouldn’t get so despondent if one person didn’t fancy him, because it would take the pressure off any one particular prospective date. When you go on few dates, it’s easier to feel rejected. And dating has a lot of rejection; because the odds of hitting it off with any one particular person are low. So you need to try to meet more people to increase the likelihood of finding someone with whom you share chemistry. Dating experience is very useful; it teaches you a lot about what you like and what you don’t, and what chemistry feels like. It’s fun. When I was dating around, I had some criteria I wouldn’t compromise on, but if a guy seemed decent and could hold an interesting convo, I tried to meet them. I had interesting conversations with all of them; I can’t really say I had any awkard or ‘horrible’ dates’; I guess  I selected for men who seemed smart and able to hold a conversation. After a date, I’d reflect before deciding I wouldn’t meet them again. Not only to make sure I wasn’t rejecting someone I got on well with, but also to see what I’d learned. I’m not always a ‘lust at first sight’ person, so the idea of rejecting people quickly seemed harsh. Sometimes you grow to like people after getting to know them a little. With the guy I’m currently seeing, I knew I’d want to see him again from the moment I saw him, but our first date almost didn’t feel like a first date because our messaging went really well. That was the only date I was nervous before, because I liked him before we met and I really hoped there’d be something there. Which is partly why I think people should engage with the process earnestly; if I’d just sent a couple of cursory messages before each of my dates before meeing, I feel I’d have had much less interesting converstions, and felt less attracted to people.

Like the Drake equation, online dating can present you only with a pool of suitable partners you could potentially meet. Attraction must be assessed in person, “and there is no formula for that”, says Seagull. Or at least not yet, he adds; he is confident that machine-learning technology will eventually be able “to read your mood, your mind … and detect bits of our personality” to predict the presence of that elusive spark.In decades to come, it may even be possible to simulate dates the same way that it is football matches now, modelling every variable – although, Seagull says, probably not soon enough to be of any use to him.

Oh, this is depressing. Would I really want AI to decide who I might be attracted to? Can we really trust an algorithm to predict who we’d feel chemistry  for? I mean, research suggests some of the chemistry is biological (see: BO and attraction). It’s frustrating when you go on a date and there’s no chemistry, but part of the fun is knowing you’ve picked someone yourself, and that they picked you. Sure, using criteria to help you sort can be useful, but you don’t want to be too prescriptive.

Honestly, I just found engaging anyone who had an interesting profile and was fun to chat with was the best way. The only way to meet people is just to start and see how it goes.

#relationships #life and style #mathematics #science #dxdates #dx dates #feminism

[arysafics]

Only

Rated E, ~4,600 words

Summary:  Clarke asks Bellamy to have a threesome with her and he agrees as he’s such a good friend. During the threesome he gets all possessive and bothered and doesn’t let the other girl even touch Clarke.

AO3

“Have you ever had a threesome before?” Clarke asks.

Bellamy looks up from his bowl of cornflakes, spoon halfway to his mouth. He’s not shocked by the question, exactly, but it is only eight-thirty, and he’s not sure where she’s going with this. He puts his spoon down and focuses on his roommate sitting across the table from him, a cup of coffee in her hand.

“You know that I have,” he says. “Why are you asking?”

“I was thinking about trying it. A threesome.”

“Good for you,” Bellamy says. He half means it. Without his approval, his mind conjures up the image of Clarke making out with some woman while another one goes down on her. His stomach clenches.

“I’ve been seeing this girl, Niylah. It’s casual, but we’re both looking to try something new.”

“There’s a new Greek restaurant that just opened down the road. You could try that.”

“Hilarious,” Clarke rolls her eyes. “We’re set on the threesome.”

“Well,” Bellamy says. He turns his attention back to his cereal. “Good luck with it.”

“We need a third person.”

“Generally that’s how threesomes work.”

“Could you stop being purposefully obtuse?”

Bellamy frowns. He hadn’t realised he was being obtuse. Sure, he wasn’t being helpful, but he’s not really sure what she wants from him. Advice? Suggestions? Honestly, he doesn’t really want to give her any tips on how to improve her sex life. He’d rather just show her how to improve it.

“Sorry?” he says. He gives her an apologetic look, waiting for her to explain herself.

Clarke pinches the bridge of her nose. “Fuck, okay. You really aren’t getting it. I thought this would be easier.”

“Thought what would be easier?”

“I’m asking you if you’ll have a threesome with me. And Niylah.”

Bellamy stares at her. She’s looking at him earnestly, expectantly. She’s in her pyjamas, blue with little sheep all over them, her hair falling out of the bun she tried to put it in. She probably couldn’t look any less conventionally sexy if she tried. And yet he’s never been more attracted to someone in his life. It’s a sweet kind of torture, living with someone he’s totally in love with, yet not allowed to touch. At least, not the way he wants to touch her.

They have a strict rule that neither of them is allowed to bring girls back to the house. Bellamy had come up with the rule, but Clarke had been quick to agree. He thought it would be better for his sanity, but the truth is he finds it hard to sleep when she’s not home and he knows she’s out there being fucked by someone who isn’t him.

This threesome would give him a chance to live out his fantasies. Albeit with someone else there, but maybe he should take what he can get. Maybe if he can get it out of his system, he can go back to sleeping with random women every other night, and he can stop thinking about Clarke.

“Niylah is into men?”

Clarke shrugs. “Not really.”

“Then why me? I know you’re more into women than men.”

“Gender doesn’t matter to me.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Bellamy,” Clarke cuts him off. “I just want someone I feel comfortable with, okay? The threesome was Niylah’s idea. I agreed if I could pick the third person.”

“Clarke, you shouldn’t do something you don’t want to do, just to make her happy.”

Clarke sighs. “I do want to do it. But I only want to do it if you’re there.”

“Okay.”

Clarke looks taken aback. To be fair, he had changed his tune pretty quickly. “Okay?”

“Yes. If you’re sure about it.”

“I’m sure, but are you sure? Don’t feel like you have to.”

“Clarke. Do you want me to be there or not?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

Clarke grins. “Okay. Okay! Thank you! You’re the best!” As if agreeing to a threesome is such a hardship for him. She gets up, rounding the table and throwing her arms around him. Bellamy tries not to focus too much on her soft breasts pressing against him, free from a bra. “I’ll call Niylah and work out the details.”

“Okay, great,” Bellamy says, sounding calmer than he feels. He tries not to think about what he’s agreed to. Not because he’s regretting his decision, or because he doesn’t want to do it. It’s just a lot. He doesn’t want to get ahead of himself, in case Clarke changes her mind. He can’t help but fantasise though, and he’s glad Clarke has left the room so he can retreat to the safety of his own without her noticing his sudden, totally unrelated erection.

  Clarke organises the threesome for the following night, which Bellamy thinks is a good thing, because it means he has less time to get in his head about it and start overthinking and freaking out.

As it is, he’s a little stilted and awkward with her, trying to act normal even though he can’t stop thinking about how tonight he’s finally going to see her naked. Clarke seems awkward with him too, apologising when she brushes against him in the kitchen, and finding excuses to leave the room when he walks in. Bellamy decides to hide in his bedroom for the rest of the afternoon.

He reads, but he checks the time every time he turns the page, waiting for 7pm when Niylah is supposed to arrive. At 6:30 he showers and makes sure he’s properly manscaped. He messes up his hair in the mirror and dabs on some cologne before changing his mind about which shirt to wear three times. He ends up picking a plain blue t-shirt.

At 6:58 he walks into the living room, where Clarke is already waiting. She looks fucking gorgeous in a low-cut white top and short black skirt, her hair all wavy and just a tiny bit of make-up on. His heart threatens to burst out of his chest, it’s thumping so hard.

Clarke smiles at him, but he can’t help but notice she looks nervous too. She’s fiddling with the heart pendant on the chain around her neck.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Bellamy asks. “It’s not too late to back out.”

“I’m sure.”

Bellamy nods. “You uh—you look great, by the way. I mean, Niylah is going to be blown away.”

Clarke looks down at her outfit. “Thanks,” she says. “You too. I mean, you look great too. I don’t think Niylah will care though.”

Bellamy laughs and Clarke chuckles nervously. The doorbell rings, and they both jump before Clarke races to the door to let Niylah in.

“Hi,” Niylah says, kissing Clarke on the cheek as Clarke lets her inside. “I brought wine.” She holds up the bottle. “Just in case we need it.” Her eyes land on Bellamy. “You must be Bellamy.”

Bellamy nods. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“And you.”

Clarke takes the bottle from Niylah and takes it to the kitchen, leaving Bellamy and Niylah to stand awkwardly in the living room together. Except Bellamy is the only one who feels awkward. Niylah seems totally at ease.

“I feel like you should know, I’m a lesbian,” she says. “But I’m happy to do this threesome thing with you, for Clarke. I figure you and I don’t have to do much actual touching.”

Bellamy laughs. “Yeah, okay. I promise I won’t put my dick near you.”

Niylah looks him up and down. “You know, if you were a woman, I’d probably be into you.”

Bellamy has no idea what that means. “Well… I have a sister,” he shrugs. “If things with Clarke don’t work out, maybe I’ll give you her number.”

Niylah laughs, and Bellamy grins at her. He’s surprised he actually likes this woman. He usually hates everyone Clarke dates.

Clarke walks back into the room with two wine glasses and she hands one to Bellamy and one to Niylah.

“Oh good, you guys are getting along,” she says. She’s smiling, but Bellamy can see the anxiety behind her eyes. He wants to check with her again that this is okay, but she gives him a look that says I’m fine, as if she can sense what he’s thinking.

“You’re not drinking?” he says instead.

“I think I’d rather be sober for this.”

Bellamy agrees with the sentiment and elects not to take a sip of his drink. Niylah has no such reservations, taking a long swig of wine.

“Should we get started?” she asks. Bellamy looks to Clarke, and she nods.

“This way,” Clarke says, leading the other two to her bedroom.

Up until this point, the whole thing hasn’t seemed real to Bellamy. Sure, he’s fantasised about having sex with Clarke. And he knows, on a theoretical level, that the plan is to have a threesome tonight. But now he’s standing in her room, the door shut, and she looks like that, and it all suddenly seems very real.

“Okay, how do we do this?” Clarke asks. She looks to Bellamy, presumably because he’s the one with previous threesome experience. Bellamy’s mind has turned to mush. All he can think about is how much he wants Clarke to take her clothes off. Or how much he wants to take them off for her. But he can’t seem to actually move and do it. Niylah seems to notice his inability to speak and takes charge.

“Come here,” she says to Clarke, holding out her hand. Clarke takes her hand, her eyes still on Bellamy, and Niylah leads her to the bed. Niylah sits on the bed and scoots over, and Clarke follows her lead. She glances at Bellamy again, and then Niylah takes Clarke’s face in her hands and starts kissing her. Bellamy watches as Clarke seems to relax, melting into the kiss.

Bellamy’s jaw ticks. He’s supposed to find this hot, right? Two women kissing each other? That’s what men are supposed to be into. Niylah and Clarke seem to think so. They’re making a show of it, for his benefit, he’s sure. Yet he just feels annoyed. Annoyed that it’s Niylah kissing Clarke and not him. He makes himself watch for a minute, if that. When Niylah’s hand sneaks underneath Clarke’s skirt, he jumps into action.

He pulls his shirt off, then sits on the bed next to Clarke, and Clarke pulls away from Niylah’s lips to turn to him. Clarke’s eyes drop to his lips, and he takes that as his permission to kiss her. He’s waited long enough. He captures her lips with his forcefully, at the same time batting Niylah’s hand away from Clarke’s thigh to replace it with his own. Clarke’s whole body turns towards him as he kisses her, and her fingers thread through his hair.

“You smell so good,” Clarke murmurs.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

Behind Clarke, Niylah leans in and starts kissing her neck. Niylah’s arms wrap around Clarke and her hands slip under her top. He’s fine with it, for a moment, if you don’t count the way his chest tightens when Niylah’s hands come between him and Clarke. Then Clarke stops kissing him so that Niylah can take her top off, and he almost growls at the interference.

Niylah removes Clarke’s top, and Bellamy’s eyes drop to Clarke’s tits, barely encased by a lacy black bra. God, she’s fucking magnificent. Bellamy can’t stop himself from pressing his mouth to the soft flesh of her breast, kissing her exposed cleavage before sucking on her nipple through her bra. Bellamy feels a thrill when she gasps at the contact.

“God, Bellamy,” she says. “Keep doing that.”

Bellamy moves his mouth to her other nipple, while he runs his hands up her sides and across her bare back to unclasp her bra. He pulls his mouth away and Clarke lets the bra fall from her chest. Bellamy’s cock jumps at the sight of her exposed nipples, pink and hard.

He meets her eyes and she flushes, self-conscious all of a sudden.

“You are so beautiful,” Bellamy says, kissing her again, hard and open-mouthed. He can feel her pointed nipples rubbing against his chest, and he presses harder against her, desperate to cover her body in his. He breaks the kiss for a moment, which is still far too long, and Niylah turns Clarke’s head back to her.

“He’s right,” Niylah says, and then she’s kissing Clarke again. Bellamy tries to remind himself this is a threesome. Clarke wants both of them to worship her. And yet his stomach twists, an unmistakable surge of jealousy flowing through his veins. He doesn’t want anyone else to touch Clarke. Just him.

He watches Niylah kiss Clarke, and Clarke kiss her back, their tongues in each other’s mouths. He can feel himself growing impatient. He has to remind Clarke that he’s there too, that he can make her feel good. He’s desperate to make her feel good. He latches onto her neck, revelling in the sounds she makes when he sucks on her skin. He wants to leave his mark on her neck. Wants to come inside her, on her, wants to claim her as his, as if he’s some caveman who has to mark his territory. Clarke would kill him if she knew what he was thinking.

His hands roam up her thighs, pushing her skirt up to her waist, revealing a lacy black thong between her legs. Bellamy groans out loud at the sight of it slipping between her swollen pussy lips.

“Clarke, baby, I have to go down on you,” he says. Clarke whimpers, pulling away from Niylah’s mouth. Good. She nods enthusiastically, scooting back on the bed, laying her head back on the pillows and opening her legs for him.

“Maybe I should—” Niylah starts.

“Shh,” Bellamy shushes her. Niylah huffs, but Bellamy ignores her. He runs his hands up Clarke’s thighs, then drops his head, pressing his lips to her inner thigh. Clarke squirms. He trails kisses up her thigh until he reaches her cunt. He can smell her arousal, and he breathes in the sweet scent of her, his cock throbbing. He runs his tongue along her slit, tasting her through her soaking thong. He hooks his fingers into the sides of her thong and drags it down. Clarke lifts her hips, giving him silent permission to take it off her. He pulls it over her ankles and discards it somewhere on the floor.

He presses his mouth against her pussy lips, slipping his tongue into her folds. He finds her clit and she arches against him, her hands in his hair, holding his head in place as she grinds her pussy against his face.

“Oh, Bell,” she moans. “Yes. Bellamy.” He’s always wanted to hear her say his name like that, and it sounds so much better than he could have imagined, her voice all husky and needy for him. The sounds she makes as he licks her cunt go straight to his cock, gets him hard and throbbing as he works her up, closer to orgasm.

He glances up at her, sees her eyes tightly shut, her mouth open, hands fisted in the sheets beneath her. Bellamy focuses his attention back on her cunt, letting the taste of her run over his tongue, trying to savour her so he can remember this later, after this is all over and all he has is this picture of her in his mind, flushed and naked and wanting. All for him.

“Bell, I’m gonna come,” she says. Bellamy’s cock jumps and his heart stutters. He tries not to overthink it. His brain has been running on instinct up until this point, reading her body language, her soft sounds of pleasure, his own desires. But it hits him now that he really has his mouth on her, that she’s about to come, that he’s about to make her come. He can’t fuck it up now. He sucks on her clit and she cries out, and then she’s coming into his mouth, writhing and panting as she rides her orgasm out. He dips his tongue back into her, feels the liquid rush onto his tongue and he licks her up greedily. He lifts his head, pride still swelling in his chest from the orgasm he’d just given her.

“Bellamy,” she says, reaching for him. His stomach swoops at the soft, desperate way she says his name. He realises then that he’s being greedy. He’s acting like this is all about him, when in fact Clarke should have two people ravishing her body. He glances to Niylah, guilty expression on his face, only to find she’s not there. He turns around, searching the room for her.

“She left,” Clarke says.

“Fuck,” Bellamy says. “I’m so sorry, Clarke.” He stands up. “I’ll go and get her. She probably hasn’t gone far.”

“Bellamy, wait!” Clarke calls, but Bellamy is already out of the bedroom and halfway down the hall. He runs outside, shirtless and shoeless, to see Niylah getting into her car.

“Niylah!” he yells. Niylah stops, straightening to look over the car at him. He beckons her over with his hand, and she seems to consider before slamming the car door closed and walking back over to him. “I’m sorry,” he says. “This was meant to be a threesome. I just got… carried away.”

“You don’t say.”

“Come back inside. I promise I won’t take over.”

“I don’t know if you can help it,” Niylah snorts. Bellamy gives her an apologetic look. “Bellamy,” Niylah says. She shakes her head. “You weren’t the only one who didn’t want me there.”

“I—what?”

“As soon as you started kissing her, she completely forgot about me.”

“That’s not true.”

Niylah laughs. “It is true. And it’s fine!” she adds, before Bellamy can try and apologise again. “It was always just sex for me and Clarke. And she wanted to try having a threesome so I said I’d give it a go, but I’m not convinced a threesome is really what she wants.”

“Wait—she said the threesome was your idea.”

Niylah rolls her eyes. “Of course she did. You two should probably have a talk.”

“Maybe.”

“By the way, did you really just leave her in there to come and get me? What is your problem?”

“I… don’t know. I thought that’s what she wanted.”

“Did she say that?”

Bellamy shakes his head. In fact, he thinks she might have been trying to stop him from going, now that he thinks about it.

“Bellamy,” Niylah says. “Go in there and give your girl what she wants.”

Bellamy nods and hurries back inside, his heart pounding in his chest. He stops when he hears sounds coming from the kitchen, diverts his course, and finds Clarke putting a bowl of leftover Chinese food in the microwave. She’s got her pyjamas on and her hair tied up, but she’s still got her make up on. Bellamy feels a swell of disappointment that’s she not naked in her bed, waiting for him.

“Clarke?” he says from the doorway. She looks up from the microwave. “What are you doing?”

“I just realised we didn’t eat anything. I was too nervous to eat before. Do you want some?”

Bellamy shakes his head. He steps into the kitchen. “Clarke—”

“Let’s not talk about it, okay?” she says quickly. “I really don’t want to make things awkward between us. We tried and it didn’t work. It was a stupid idea anyway.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I mean, clearly none of us enjoyed it.”

“You didn’t enjoy it?” Bellamy asks, stepping closer to her. “Are you saying you faked that orgasm?”

Clarke flushes. “Well, no. But in the interest of not making things weird, we should probably forget that you—”

“Made you come?”

Clarke turns even redder. “I was going to say saw me naked. But yeah, that too.”

“I really don’t think I’m capable of forgetting that,” Bellamy says. “Which brings me to why you would think that I didn’t enjoy it.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Please, Bellamy. You ran out of there pretty quick when you realised Niylah was gone. Like you couldn’t bear to be alone with me.”

“I thought you wanted a threesome!”

“I did! I mean, Niylah did. And I did too. I don’t know!” Clarke says, getting flustered.

“I’ll admit it wasn’t the most successful threesome I’ve ever had,” Bellamy says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Stop it,” Clarke huffs. “I don’t like it when you tease me.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

She gives him a playful shove, which only results her standing even closer to him. “Shut up,” she whispers.

“I enjoyed myself,” he says. He’s looking down at her, but he can only see the top of her head. “But I probably would have enjoyed myself more if Niylah wasn’t there.”

She looks up at him. “Yeah.” She chews her lip. “In hindsight I probably should have found another bi woman. Someone you could actually touch, so you didn’t just have to be with me.”

Bellamy chuckles. “So not the problem, Clarke.”

“Then what was the problem?”

Bellamy hesitates. “You’re going to hate me for saying this. But… I didn’t want Niylah to touch you. I don’t want anyone to touch you. Only me.”

Clarke’s breath hitches. “That’s a little possessive, don’t you think?”

“Do you hate me?”

Clarke shakes her head. “It would be a little hypocritical. Seeing as how I don’t want anyone else to touch you but me.” She leans even closer to him now, breasts brushing against his chest.

“Oh yeah?” Bellamy says. He’s not sure he’s actually breathing anymore.

Clarke nods. “Bellamy?”

“Mmm?”

“Why aren’t you kissing me?”

“I have no fucking idea,” he growls, and then his mouth is on hers as she surges up to meet him halfway. He presses her against the kitchen counter, moulding his body to hers, wanting to feel every inch of her skin on his. “Why did you get dressed?” he complains.

“I thought you didn’t want to have sex with me,” Clarke says breathlessly, already working on the buttons on her pyjama top. Impatient, Bellamy takes over, ripping her top open instead of undoing the buttons.

“Bellamy!”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He removes the shirt from her shoulders as Clarke pulls her hair from her bun, letting it fan out around her shoulders. He kisses her neck, tugging down her pyjama shorts at the same time, then presses his fingers into her slit. She’s still sopping wet from when he went down on her earlier.

“Condom?” he asks, mouth still on her neck.

“In my room.”

Bellamy scoops her up, and carries her bridal style to her room, while Clarke presses open mouthed kisses against his chest, runs her tongue over his nipple, sucks his skin into her mouth, driving him crazy. He drops her onto her bed and pulls her shorts off the rest of the way. His mouth finds hers again, his lips already missing the touch of her skin. How he went so long without doing this, he’ll never know.

“Fuck me,” Clarke breathes. “I want you to make me come again.”

“I will, baby,” Bellamy says. He hastily removes his jeans, freeing his throbbing cock. Clarke’s eyes fall on his cock, now only covered by his boxers. She reaches for him, and he lets her pull his boxers down, loving the way her mouth drops open slightly and her eyes widen when she sees his cock for the first time. She looks up at him, and it’s obvious she knows that he knows he’s impressive. He smirks.

“Shut up and fuck me,” she says.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Shut up.”

Bellamy grins, and he leans down to kiss her again. He pushes her back until she’s lying down, her head sinking down into her pillow. He rids himself of his boxers completely, and then he’s pressing his cock to her entrance. She whines, wriggling against him. He grips the headboard above her as he pushes into her, keeping his eyes on her, watching her mouth drop open as his cock stretches her wide.

“Oh fuck, Bellamy,” she moans. He thrusts into her, his whole length filling her, and she bites her lip and closes her eyes, an angsty sigh on her breath. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Me too,” Bellamy says. Clarke opens her eyes.

“Kiss me,” she says. “I don’t like you being so far away.” Bellamy drops his hands from the headboard and presses his lips to hers, his chest to her breasts. Clarke wraps her legs around him, pulling him even closer. Bellamy rolls his hips against her, slow at first, then gradually picking up the pace. She feels amazing around him, tight and hot wet and perfect. A realisation hits him hard, and he stops abruptly.

“Fuck.”

“Don’t come yet,” Clarke complains. Bellamy would be offended if he didn’t have bigger concerns at the moment.

“That’s not it. I—I never put a condom on.”

“I don’t care,” Clarke says. “I just need you to keep fucking me. Please, Bellamy. I need you, I need you.”

Bellamy groans.  He resumes his thrusts, harder than before. Clarke’s nails dig into his back, and he thrills at the thought of her leaving her marks on him.

“Bell, Bell, I’m gonna come, I’m—” Her sentence is interrupted by her own moan, which then turns into an almost silent orgasm as she shudders beneath him, her pussy clenching around him testing his self-control.

“Clarke,” Bellamy groans. “You feel so good, baby. I’m close. Where do you want me to come?”

“I want you to come in me.”

“You on birth control?”

Clarke shakes her head.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy shakes his head. “You want me to get you pregnant?”

“Kind of.”

Bellamy can’t even think straight with that kind of talk.

“Not this time, baby,” he says. “Can I come on your tits?”

Clarke nods, and Bellamy pulls out just in time, aiming his cock at her tits, spurting his generous load all over her. His stomach lurches at the sight of her, naked and covered in his come, her chest rising and falling heavily. He can’t stop the thought from entering his mind: mine. Spent, Bellamy collapses on the bed next to her.

“I hindsight,” Clarke says. “It’s probably best you didn’t come inside me.”

Bellamy laughs. “Fucking hell,” he says. “We should probably at least go out on a date or something before we start having kids.”

Clarke snorts. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”

Bellamy props himself up on his elbow to look at her. “You were horny and you were thinking about how in love with me you are and how you want to be mine forever and ever,” he grins.

“I mean… not far off,” Clarke says, and then she’s blushing. The smile drops from Bellamy’s face.

“Clarke… you do know I’m in love with you, right?”

She meets his eyes. “Well, I do now.”

“I have to know one thing. Why did you want to have this threesome?”

“I told you, it was Niylah’s idea.”

Bellamy cocks his head. “She said it was your idea.”

Clarke screws up her nose. “Okay. It was my idea. Don’t laugh at me, okay? I just—I really wanted you to fuck me. And I thought you would only agree to it if you thought you were like… doing me a favour.”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I know.”

“I think Niylah saw right through us.”

“She probably hates me now.”

“I think she’s probably glad she didn’t have to witness what we just did.” Clarke laughs and Bellamy kisses her softly. “Speaking of Niylah. Will you give her Octavia’s number for me?”

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #mine

[along-the-devils-backbone]

Had to go with dad today to run errands and pay bills and spent the entire damn car ride trying to get him to shut the fuck up about things. 

Things said during the trip: 

Him: “I don’t understand how gay guys can want to be with a flamboyant limp-wristed gay guy. If they want a partner that’s so feminine, why don’t they just date a fucking woman?” 

Me (Yelling): “BECAUSE THEY LIKE DICK.” 

Him:  “Well then why do lesbians always go after the butch lesbians instead of a guy??”

Me (still yelling): “BECAUSE THEY LIKE PUSSY, DAD.” 

Him: “But why look butch at all!? Don’t they know how unattractive they are??”

Me: “They’re only unattractive to YOU. just because YOU don’t want to fuck them, doesn’t mean somebody else doesn’t see them and say “holy shit she’s gorgeous i want to sit on her face and vice-versa. It’s not about your dick. It’s not about YOUR preferences. It’s about what someone else is into, and that doesn’t concern you. You literally said about 3 minutes ago, that “back in your day” nobody cared about what kind of sex everyone, because what happens in the privacy of your own bedroom is your own business. So why the fuck are you so concerned with why people like the people that they like?” 

Him: “Well, i just don’t get it. They’re not attractive at all.” 

Me: “TO YOU. You know you’re not god’s gift to women when it comes to looks, and yet mum loves you anyway (for some fucking reason), and she tells you you’re handsome, right? But there’s undoubtedly other people out there who look at you and your long frizzy hair and missing teeth and redneck clothes and say “Ew, i would never want to fuck that asshole.” so it’s the same damn principle. Somebody loves someone else for different reasons -- and none of them are any of your fucking concern.” 

Him: “Okay but like, looks are important to YOU right? So why would you pick someone ugly as your partner if you knew other people thought they were unattractive??” 

Me: “Again, because it doesn’t matter what other people think of your partner or yourself, as long as you love eachother. Like for instance: Jimmy is the most feminine acting guy i know. He’s weird and goofy, and not conventionally attractive to most people. But he’s mine, and i love him for so many reasons besides how he looks -- and I could honestly care less what the fuck anyone else thinks about him, because it doesn’t matter. Same thing for him. I’m sure there are people that see ME and say “Oh my god she’s so fat and ugly, look at her half-shaved, balding head and scars. I would never fuck her.” but it DOESN’T MATTER because they’re not my fucking partner, and if they were, they wouldn’t care about that shit. So whatever somebody else is attracted to, or looks like, is literally none of your business, so why the fuck would you waste your time worrying about why some lesbians date butch women, or why some guys date flamboyant dudes. Doesn’t involve you, so fuck off.” 

He ended up changing the subject to a neighbor’s house we were passing, and how they had just bought turkeys and pigs -- but it felt good to be able to shut him up about shit. Like, how shallow and vain can you be? To think that what YOU personally think of someone, and whether or not you’re personally attracted to them, has ANYTHING to do with how others are attracted to them?? 

We also argued about polyamory, marriage & divorce (especially the “till death do you part” vow), whether or not wolf-whistling and paying sexual compliments to a woman was considered “alright”, and why “women just don’t act feminine anymore.” 

Hoo boy. I sure love going on trips to town with my dad. Sometimes i wonder where I get all this anxiety and anger from! /SARCASM

#Personal #TW: My dad #sexism #homophobia #my dad is a raging douchebag trump supporter -- please feel free to set him on fire if ever you see him. #I might even help if i'm around

[welcometothisby]

//WAIT WHAT YES PLEASE TELL US MORE ABOUT YOUR LOVE/HATE RELATIONSHIP WITH PEG (whispers don't mind me i shouldn't be sending shit on my mostly unrelated rp blog but here we are)

Hello, hello! Glad you asked! So, because Maggie writes characters that I can’t ever hate completely (STOP MAKING THEM SO REAL AND FLAWED AND HUMAN MAGGIE!!!), I have SO MANY mixed feelings about Peg. I’ll probably fail miserably at keeping this short and coherent, but oh well, you asked for it! ;)

Even before Maggie revealed the affair backstory, I struggled with Peg, largely because she often gave really bad advice. It wasn’t bad advice for her time period, but it was bad advice for Puck and I’m glad Puck didn’t listen. I don’t fault Peg her internalized sexism, because I think she mostly did life on her own terms within the patriarchy, which is really admirable for the time, but I would hate for Puck to turn out too much like her? There are, of course, many things Peg deserves praise for: she’s fierce and independent and respected. She’s perceptive. She flouts many conventions of her time. She’s solid. She’s clever. She’s friendly. She gives tough love. 

But there are other things about her that don’t seem so healthy. For one, she never struck me as a particularly happy person. She works, she has a family, a home, she doesn’t cook (shocking!), she’s prominent in the community, and yet she often appears to just be going through the motions, because that’s what’s expected of her. Thisby can grind a person down, unless one chooses their own happiness, and Peg seems more comfortable with the appearance of happiness than actually being happy. She doesn’t really let you see past her mask.

I also think, on some level, Peg resented what Puck was trying to do, as so often happens when different generations of women have attempted to rise above their circumstances with wildly different tactics. (If you’ve seen the show Mad Men, then you’ll recognize a similar struggle between Joan Holloway and Peggy Olson). Peg Gratton, like so many women of that period, learned that they could use or overemphasize their sexuality and gender to manipulate men (see the “a mountain they have to climb” quote). Peg’s brand of mysterious femininity is not exactly mainstream (she’s not that conventionally attractive), but you can bet she has very carefully cultivated her image as a woman who could cut your heart out neat. 

Puck, on the other hand, instinctively knew that she shouldn’t have to change who she is to suit or impress anybody; her fierceness isn’t a mask. Peg knew how to work the system, but Puck already acted like the system didn’t exist, which some could perceive to be more dangerous because the system did still exist and one false move could’ve resulted in the loss of whatever amount of control women found within it. Peg might have had a good grip on reality, but Puck knew herself and what she was capable of. Her risk paid off because sometimes breaking small, unspoken rules (riding in the races) and changing your lot in life can be just as important as breaking the big, spoken ones (the suffrage movement) that technically affect everybody. If you’re “all for women,” like Peg claimed to be, that has to mean all, for all and in all, in big ways and small (trademark Dr. Seuss, probably).

Ultimately, I think Peg accepted what Puck was trying to do and supported her in it, as shown with the symbolic gesture of (literally) passing the (bird) mantle to her right before the race. Peg represents the past, women like her may have paved the way for Puck to get where she is, but Puck is the future of the island and the world. 

But then there’s the elephant in the room: the affair. In this post, @wickedwinterwillow​ does an excellent job of showing why Peg engaging in an affair with Gabriel is so predatory and loathsome. I really don’t want to comprehend the reasons behind the affair, but because I have a terrible need to try to understand everything no matter what, all I can think of is that after years of familiarity, Tom saw her as a teacup, and everyone else saw her as a mountain, and maybe (???) Gabe just saw her as herself (???). Anyway, that’s enough of that because CREEPY and EWW and NOOOO.

It’s so hard to interpret Peg and Puck’s interactions in light of the affair. I cannot fathom how or why Peg could attempt any sort of normal relationship with Puck while all that was going on, but I guess to her credit, Peg always seemed sort of pained. I almost think that maybe Gabe convinced Peg to check in on Puck in his place because that seems like just the sort of cowardly yet brotherly yet wildly inappropriate thing he’d do. Also, the whole scene at the Gratton’s house (where I believe we get a better glimpse at the “real” Peg) is AWKWARD AS HELL. Puck says, “The only time Peg Gratton addresses me is to tell me that I’m welcome to give Dove more hay if she needs it before the end of the night, before the storm gets bad.” She’s not exactly going out of her way to build a relationship with Puck because things suddenly just got TOO REAL under HER OWN DAMN ROOF.

So I almost get the sense that Peg didn’t ask to be a mother figure to Puck, but ultimately she ends up doing a fairly decent job of it (Puck draws out the best in people), minus the dubious life advice. I mostly respect Peg (if we pretend the affair didn’t happen), but she’s not without nuance, both good and bad. That’s just my interpretation of her character, so if anyone is a full-on Peg stan, I want to hear about everything I’ve missed! :)

#SORRY THIS IS SO LONG #the scorpio races #maggie stiefvater #theunluckytraveler #puck connolly #peg gratton #confession #meta #long post #peg x gabe #peg x thomas #feminism #the patriarchy #mad men #the scorpio races fandom #dubious advice #headcanon

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

*ahem*

so am i just gonna have to get specific representation MY DAMN SELF. i mean COME ON. im using my brain to finally work and think about the future and all that. and i feel like i’m being picky but im tired of busted up fucking plot holes and the same old shit every time. only the light skinned women or girls who’re considered conventionally attractive. and they’re either the “right size” or theyre dark skinned (the only one in the show) and have a fucking attitude. when the hell am i going to STOP being viewed as a threat, or a stereotype, and be seen as a fucking person???? with thoughts and feelings and input that deserves to be heard. ESPECIALLY IN THE MEDIA. i know black folks dont get much shit as is, and if we get something half decent, we’re shit all over, or killed, or it’s snatched. and if it isn’t taken from us, we treasure it, waiting for the next good thing to happen, billions of hardships throwing themselves at us. and specifically, as a black queer neurodivergent gal, there’s no fucking space for me. im not going to be seen, nor represented how i wish to be. i’m either a threat, nothing whatsoever, or the life, the being, and the moment until it’s inconvenient for white people to deal with. stealing things people have been ridiculed and teased for, and suddenly it’s all the fucking rage. then after it’s gone, i’m pushed to the curb again, fucking trampled by the same people who said i was at least partially equal to them. 

i cant find even a half decent place that i see myself where it’s not sprinkled, or dare i say, doused in anti-blackness and misogynoir. i mean, but it’s only a show, right? it’s not that big of a deal, shows can’t represent a group of people, or person as to where it impacts them, right?

then tell me why the princess and the frog is my favorite disney movie.....

tell me why hidden figures almost never goes unwatched whenever i see it.

tell me why i have been talking NON-STOP about invincible because a show has just a single black girl who speaks her mind, and is a BADASS.......but amber’s ripped to shreds isn’t she. she “was stupid from not telling mark her mind” and “she led him on” and “i hate amber more than omni-man” and “amber is the real villain” (which is laced with anti-blackness)

it’s because REPRESENTATION MATTERS, fuckass. i wouldnt binge watch things that i fucking hate. if i see myself in something, and it’s authentic, and it’s real, im holding onto it like my fucking life depends on it. oh wait? it does.

cant wear this or that. “she must think she’s grown” NOPE. but i sure as hell can legally work, get vaccinated, and have a learner’s permit. isn’t that “the life” isn’t that what i’m supposed to do? join the society that was broken to begin with until i crumble, lose my job, and find myself in the same place.

or no, i’m still just a child apparently. shouldn’t be speaking for myself, can’t make my own decisions. i “need to be taken down a peg”

and here come the stereotypes again. “angry black girl” “in someone’s face”

and of fucking course when i bring up the fact that something is racist then i need to “lower my voice” and “calm down” and am taken outside the door and told “this happens, just ignore it”

from the same motherfucker who doesn’t think that white privilege exists, calls m a feminist “derogatory” when i bring up the fact that something is sexist, and literally makes the joke “monkeys climb trees” when we were celebrating black history month, and one of the classroom doors was decorated with a tree. but apparently i need to “chill out” and let the cishet white person get their fucking way like they all have for the past hundreds of years.

that shit sucks. and it stings. and it stays tearing me apart at one in the fucking morning.

also (we’re not done, strap in)

if i see one more fucking person excuse homophobia with the bible, im fucking snapping and finding a girlfriend and posting the picture FRONT AND CENTER of my fucking instagram. or better yet i’ll finally find a pair of fishnets and do what the fuck i want without guzzling down the dredges of my personal disapproval for once. it sounds quite tempting to be honest at this point.

so, story time lovelies.

yesterday (well, er, two days ago, it was friday afternoon) one of my dearest (/j) classmates decided to post a story which held a screenshot of the bible where it mentioned that “a man shall not sleep with another man like he does with his wife” okay and the bible changes like night and day. there’s so many fucked up stories in the bible that justify this, that, and the other. and like?? you expect me to want to BELIEVE that shit. absolutely not. just say you’re a homophobe and LEAVE MY QUEER ASS ALONE. jesus fucking christ.

this isn’t the first time she’s posted something i found quite offensive, and frankly, rage inducing. it was the “there’s only two genders” and taking off 3 years of my life with the “man=penis, woman=vagina” BULLSHIT which is wrong on multiple accounts. intersex people exist and ARE REAL. and gender isn’t tied to genitalia. and it’s also not binary. and clothes and colors dont have GENDERS. they’re fabric and things we fucking see, not an end all be all to the type of person someone is, how they think, talk, act, and what fucking hangs between their legs. job prospects. none of that. another video from a few months back, still on the gender thing in which this cishet man stated (who probably has fucking guns laying on the mantle in front of the fireplace, right below the decapitated dear) that “kids are too young to think about this” little kids don’t give TWO SHITS about gender, they just see people as people, and they love their friends. their biggest worries are what’s for dinner, or who’s gonna play on what on the playground. if we teach them that OTHER TRANS KIDS EXIST. and that they deserve to be treated the same, we won’t have issues. at all. and if they end up being confused, let them ask questions, and answer them accordingly. IT’S NO BIG DEAL.

so...no. so she’s blocked (permanently) and i honestly don’t give a fuck at this point. i have no tolerance for bigotry in my life, or brain, and i have had, im sure, a LIFETIME full of toxic people who think shitty things about me and i just??? bitch? AM I PRESSED ABOUT IT? no. HAS IT CAUSED ME SLEEPLESS NIGHTS AND PANIC ATTACKS? of course, i have trauma and severe anxiety, what else did you expect?

yeah um....i think im done. this has just been RIPPING me to shreds for the past few minutes. had to get it out.