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dressed2k1ll · 6 months

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I’m giving up on men because

1. The fact that they all assume they’re experts in everything

2. The fact that they all assume they’re smarter than me immediately

3. The fact that they allow and use slurs to divide women like Karen, Pick Me, Terf, The Main Character, SWERF, prude, slut bitch

4. The only slur they have is incel which relies on the premise that they’re entitled to sex

5. Moms are expected to be perfect and if she makes a mistake she’s a bad mom. Dads are considered perfect despite their mistakes and even being a poor parent

6. They think sex is a service

7. They cannot have a magic sexual moral barrier that divides children from teens from women. I refuse to believe it. And the media sexualizes kids and infantilizes female sexuality… so what now?

8. That porn is so normalized and teen is a category and yet we can’t check a man’s porn viewing history before allowing them to coach, treat, or be alone with vulnerable people.

9. That some will and can and do have sex with corpses. That deadness is sexualized in fashion photography as arousing

10. That choking has become normalized in porn

11. That we know porn becomes increasingly more extreme through algorithm and capitalism

12. That they hide behind plausible deniability and think we are too stupid to see it - like the devils advocate position

13. That they convince themselves their plausible deniability is a moral standard

14. That even the normal married ones with little girls for kids are shitty

15. That they think their pleasure overrides the civil rights of a person

16. That they believe consent magically changes abuse into kink

17. That they don’t even know what misogyny is

18. That they think misandry is somehow comparable

19. That they think my hurting their feelings or making them feel uncomfortable is a violent act. That pointing out violence makes me the violent one.

20. That they defend Johnny Depp

21. That they’re afraid of false accusations

22. That they defend the reputations of men they haven’t met more than the reality of the women who report them lmao

23. They don’t take care of themselves physically

24. They can choose to be civilized but use animal evo psychology to defend subhuman actions

25. They believe that women’s sexuality is an economy for them

26. They created religion to usurp creative power from women

27. They convinced other men that humans came from a man’s rib, from a patriarchal god, when literally no man has NOT come through and from a woman.

28. They have sexualized every aspect of women’s existence including pain and crying

29. They’ve convinced women that empowerment is a feeling and not a change in power position

30. They blame their antisocial loneliness epidemic on us

31. The tried to use the Love Languages on us

32. They created psychiatry as a way to at least in part control women just as they created medicine to control and destroy midwives

33. They place the locus of responsibility outside themselves which makes them perpetual victims

34. They created purity culture

35. They created porn culture

36. They buy and use and masturbate to trafficked and vulnerable women and it doesn’t matter to them

37. They corner me in the workplace

38. They are always looking at us - I want to not be perceived sexually at all

39. They use women for all of their emotional dumping and we aren’t certified to handle it

40. They resent our happiness (shaming it)

41. We had to create laws to keep them from marrying and having sex with kids. Like, everywhere. We haven’t even succeeded globally

42. They hold women in power to an entirely separate standard than men

43. They’re lazy

44. They can solve complex problems and be incentive and self-improving at work, but are seemingly really incapable of doing this for relationships

45. They won’t see something unless it directly impacts them personally

46. They are emotionally unintelligent

47. They are violent

48. They are wilfully ignorant of the constant threat of sexual violence women face

49. They are making and using technology to get past consent

50. They believe women have a use value

51. They’re lying when they say they can’t show emotions : art, culture, music, etc belie this. And this is aside from the fact that we acknowledge their pride, nationalism, anger, boorishness, sulkishness, entitlement, jealousy, etc. these are emotions too.

52. They use power to get or pressure or coerce sex

53. They don’t mentor women professionally unless they’re sexually attracted to them physically

54. They’re bad and aggressive drivers

55. They’re predatory and some don’t know it ???????

56. They play dumb

57. They owe us reparations and refuse to even consider this - we were left out of Das Kapital

58. They try to turn their wives into their mothers

59. They moderate men and women differently in social media spaces

60. We can’t trust them as soldiers or peace corps

61. We can’t trust them alone with kids period - who do we tell kids to go to if they’re lost?!!

62. That they’ve turned violence into sex “body count” “fuck the shit out of you”

63. We can’t be honest with them - we have to tiptoe around them

64. I’m pissed more men aren’t speaking out about the obvious loss of civil rights of women globally - what the hell! It makes me believe that they kinda want it to happen (plausible deniability of course) because like it’s not gonna hurt them right?

65. At any given time I could pull up incidents where instead of intervening while a woman is being assaulted, the assault is filmed by other men. The reverse simply doesn’t happen.

66. They love borrowed authority

67. I hate them because when they ask “what do you want me to do about it?” And you say the most slacktivist thing, they won’t even do that. They’ll do NOTHING.

68. Because the most unsafe place for a woman in the world is the home

69. Because a woman is killed by an intimate partner globally every 11 minutes

70. Because the number one cause of death for pregnant women in the states is murder

71. Because they believe their morals are their best intentions. It’s like they all think they’re brave but he’s anyone done anything brave ?

72. They use weaponized incompetence to control people and be lazy

73. They believe sexism is benevolence

74. Because someone taught them that it’s the thought that counts and it almost never is the thought that counts

75. That gang rape is a thing

76. Because only a handful of men have most of the global wealth

77. They move goalposts: you can say what your experience is but they’ll discount it as one. You can say it’s others that have experienced the same thing and they’ll discount it as over represented.

78. There’s no acceptable way to be really angry with them, and express that, as a woman

79. They feel comfortable making comments about women’s physical appearance, touching us without our consent and bank on us not rocking the boat.

80. They refuse to believe in the wage gap

81. We could have child care as being mandated but because women are primary childcare givers, we don’t have this.

82. Medicine was only tested on both genders recently because it was too difficult to do apparently

83. Our medical issues aren’t taken seriously

84. Mass shooters are almost exclusively men

85. Because they moan about suicide rates and forget to mention all the women and kids and sometimes strangers that suicidal men take with them

86. They believe they’re entitled to sex - through payment guilt or force

87. They rarely care about what girls think unless they have a daughter

88. Cultures abort girl babies and before they just exposed them to the elements. As a result there’s India and China and the Middle East Hong Kong, South Korea, Taiwan Vietnam etc there are more men than women

89. They don’t stop female genital mutilation. And they could if they wanted to.

90. More than 100 million women are missing - the shortfall of the number of women in the world we would expect in the absence of sex discrimination

91. They desire us to be dependent on them. Independence terrifies them.

92. They let women leave the workforce during the pandemic.

93. They see male history, male writing, male law as standard and they aren’t. They’d freak out if the USA had 9 woman Supreme Court justices

94. They are more sexist than even racist

95. Male over female Domination is the first and most primal form of oppression

96. Prostitution is the first form of trafficking not the worlds oldest profession

97. They can compartmentalize the pain of others - especially if it doesn’t impact them or their family (their own private kingdom)

98. Every man assumes he’s the king and grows up taught that they deserve to own things, people and property

99. They see women as girls all as potential sexual objects. Especially if they’re mad.

100. They treat sex workers as a different class

101. Women don’t keep men as sex slaves

102. They’ve made the law such that women cannot logistically perform murder in self defence

103. They say porn is free speech and that it’s not real when it’s convenient

104. Despite all of this: all of the proof and every experience logged and litigated… that they don’t believe that women still are being oppressed under male supremacy.

105. Because someone has said it’s okay for drag queens to use “bitch serving cunt” as an expression of femininity- and claim it’s not misogynistic

#misandry #misogyny #feminism #feminist

#terfblr #andrea dworkin #radical feminist #radical feminist safe #radical feminists please interact #radical feminist theory #andrea+dworkin #feminism #we should all be feminists

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yanderenightmare · 7 months

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I have an honest question and I don't want to sound rude or anything at all but what's so interesting about CNC. Like I see people hype it up but to me it just feels like romanticizing r4pe..I'm not really into CNC so I can't talk bad or downplay whatever they do but I'm just asking because I want to understand it better.

A question I, by no means, can answer perfectly. However, in the spirit of philosophy and amateur psychology, I will lay unto you, ye who have keen ears, my theories.

Now, I am in no way a psychiatrist. However, as I am a woman who does a great deal of fantasizing and further thinking of what I fantasize about, I thought I might assume the role of a sexologist as it is no protected title.

I’ve long wondered why we (women) fantasize about things that would appall us if manifested in reality. It makes little sense that an act so ruining in practice should make us feel fulfilled when the mere thought of it is humored.

In the vast complexities of psychology, no matter how much I drink of its depths, I can’t seem to get my fill enough to understand it. Trying to figure out female arousal is like pulling hair from a clogged gutter and trying to undo all the knots. It’s a web of contradictions.

However…

First theory – there are cultural reasons. If we accept the inbuilt instincts of old and the instincts we adopt through media while growing up – all in all, the great history of aggressive men dominating passive women – we are conditioned to accept that this is what romance looks like.

Second theory – there are the emotional reasons. The "Beauty and the Beast" motif – featuring classic co-dependency. Women submit to abuse because we have an inbuilt need to nurture others – so when we love men who require to abuse and own us in order to love us, we somehow forget to protect ourselves in favor of loving them, which in this case means allowing them to abuse and own us. It's warped.

Third theory – there are psychological reasons. In fantasies and writing or viewing, we get to reframe traumatic experiences in a positive light or rework traumatic experiences in a safe environment – a form of psychological self-defense, much like Stockholm Syndrome or a type of self-inflicted Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Fourth theory – research has also been conducted regarding physiological reasons. Here, we have another inbuilt self-defense mechanism – a seldom talked-about phenomenon – which shows that women tend to become physically aroused when they sense any possibility of sexual aggression in their environment – in order to lower their chance of injury if they are raped.

Through all this, I believe one can narrow fantasies of rough or non-consensual sex into something as paradoxical and polar as having a wish for control and a wish to relent oneself of it. And coming to this conclusion, I realized that such is the pursuit of many, even in endeavors not of the erotic kind.

Humans wish to have control just as much as humans disdain having control. This is why BDSM (bondage, domination, sadism, masochism) kinks and fetishes are found in some shape or form in nearly every romantic or sexual relationship in existence. You’ll have the dominant partner wishing to achieve control over a submissive partner wishing to relinquish control through such means of domination, humiliation, pain, and pleasure.

But it’s more complex than that, isn’t it?

Yes. Because, contradictory – a submissive partner may wish for control, and a dominant partner may wish to lose it. Human beings are an unyielding paradox where we flex across contrasting aims with no means to an end.

Yes, we wish for control, yet disdain having it. Perhaps we find the answer to this paradox in maintaining control by losing it?

Moreover… how does this relate to nonconsensual sex fantasies?

Here, we get a fifth theory containing the ego – a spin-off of a kind from the third theory. Here we find the wish for control, where, in the lustful fantasy realm, non-consensual sex bolsters a woman's feelings of seductiveness and desirability in the way it has the power to make a man lose his decency and self-control, driving him to commit crimes of passion despite ill consequences of losing his pride and honor as a man – also, ultimately, risking getting sent to prison.

Put simply, some women enjoy the idea of being irresistible enough to drive even a good man crazy. The thought of being attractive enough to make a man love-sick and the power and control that follows it is, in this case, a turn-on.

A sixth theory – another spin-off from the third theory – is that fantasies of rape allow women to reduce the distress associated with sex, as they are not, in this scenario, responsible for what occurs. Moreover, the logic here states that when one is forced into something, they’ll have a lesser need to feel guilt or shame about acting out their own sexual desires.

Put simply, some women wish to maintain their innocence despite having carnal desires only satiated by means of sinful acts.

This begs another question.

Is this a lingering feeling of guilt and shame around female sexuality?

Of course! Women are constantly met with disdain when open about their sluttiness.

So, are fantasies of nonconsensual sex a type of projection they do because of this?

In some cases, yes!

Transferring our own sexual desires unto another gives us permission to act them out without feeling guilty or dirty – because, inside this fantasy, it isn’t us committing the indecencies.

... Okay then...

Summing up theories five and six:

Control. To feel wanted, lusted for, obsessed over, and coveted by others. The power of driving someone to lovesick desire, a frenzied state, where they would do anything, even illegal, to have you. Additionally, despite such harsh cases of ego, wanting none of the responsibility for it, wanting to be free of sin, to maintain innocence and purity in light of such dark desires.

Or is there a seventh theory? One found in our idyllic construct of freedom – this aimless goal of ours to make ourselves appreciate breathing – done by balancing the electric powerline between having and losing control.

Is it this act of switching places, the attraction and pull, the stimuli and response, the attack and retaliation? In the chaos of contradictions and uncertainty, we find a thrill that occupies our otherwise hibernating minds – bored to the degree that we become machines in our daily programs.

Is it simply that we need a little extremity as a remedy for our dull lives?

Do we fall in love with illegal things simply because we are denied them? Simply because they’re illegal? Self-harm, drug use, gambling, murder, rape…

Are these things a part of us? And are we, without them, left feeling unfulfilled? Is The Purge perhaps onto something vitally important? A cure for boredom, this mediocrity that leaves us feeling so blue?

I think, if I were to find a comparison, it’s quite similar to the blind bounds of excitement others ascend to in the midst of playing violent video games. The rush of falling in and out of enemy territory, of danger and safety, from being a predator to becoming the prey, of victory and defeat, of chasing death only to be comforted by one’s remaining life – because in reality, you're safe and sound in front of a screen.

Also, in other cases - rollercoasters, horror movies, extreme sports, etc...

Yes, the wish to trip in and out of control isn’t limited to the realm of lust but is present in most aspects of life. We find it in extreme cases such as drugs, gambling, gaming, relationships, and in other subtle cases of professions and work.

If you don’t like it, that’s your business, and I wish you the best of luck in lust elsewhere.

On another note – and such another warning and disclaimer – I want you not to accept my tales of lust as love stories. Personally, I think hints of toxic displays such as jealousy, obsession, and possession in a partner are natural – but – a difference is made when such feelings become restricting to a degree you no longer feel free. I implore you to make such distinctions for yourself when regarding yourself – and, in extreme cases, when regarding others.

In said regard, I do not condone the events nor the actions of the characters in my stories – neither offender nor victim. Don’t allow yourself to fall prey to toxic partners! The signs are always there – keep a weathered eye out for them.

And no, I’m not blaming those who’ve allowed themselves to stay in toxic relationships. I, myself, am guilty of that. But I won’t excuse my poor judgment either. You know when something doesn’t feel right. We shouldn’t blur the lines of right and wrong in the name of love – or whatever else we may lend our self-control to – such as religion, culture, family, societal pressure, etc...

You are in control. Don’t forget it. And don’t allow anything else to become the case.

#nightmare rambles #discussion

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ladythornofrivia · 7 months

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Kingdom of Fire & Blood || (Part Seven)

🐉 MASTERLIST 🐉

Next Chapter

summary: lady greenstar’s ceremony is all but merry, and the offer that could change the course of her life forever.

pair: aemond x reader

warnings: smut, violence, p in v sex, sexual content, aemond being arrogant, modern reader doesn’t know how the world of GOT works but is a Aemond stan, praise kink, breeding kink, spitting kink, voice kink, fluff, angst—family drama, oral sex, hate sex, stalking, jealousy, virginity loss, obsession, reader is neutral; neither a green or black supporter, reader being sassy and aroused, sweet moments with reader and aemond. Reader is a huge GOT & HOTD fan. Aemond becomes king instead of Aegon. (P.S. Alys who? I only know Aemond x Reader)

a/n: sorry it took forever to write the chapter! It’s finally here! Woo! Reader’s backstory is finally revealed! Woo! If you enjoy, please leave a comment.

Chapter Seven: The Price of Heart

On the proclamation from the Iron Throne, King Viserys granted a ceremony and anointed a young maiden to unite both factions, Blacks and Greens, and renamed her as Lady Greenstar, a star that befell and shook the cores of Westeros, to which have known for causing disruption and awakened in the realm.

Apart from previous accomplishment on saving Princess Helaena and Prince Jacaerys, Lady Greenstar, a newcomer to Westeros, has its gaze is as deadly as a thorn. Upon a gaze of a maiden, men’s hearts fickle in delight, and women’s hearts enraged with fright. And among others, she is nothing but an air of mystery, but her appearance is no more than averagely simple and unimpressive (claimed by Mushroom). Lady Greenstar, whose maiden name is unknown, the time of Viserys’s reign may have yet to be remain, as Lady Greenstar is in an absolute self-merry and encourage the nobles and commoners alike to a celebrate at her unimportant arrival at a tedious ceremony.

~Your POV~

The nightmare hadn’t stopped.

You want to destroy—set ablaze everything into ashes.

In a soundless blight rising in your chest, you managed to gather yourself in the midst of ceremony. You wanted to scream. Heating anger risen within you; you are nowhere near happy with the proceedings. You just wanted to go home, anticipated that this no more than a fever dream, a weirdly filter episodic moment that is meant to be unseen.

Unable to gaze upon the crowd, despite your head is held high, your roundish headpiece wrapped atop your tucked hairstyle; your hairline styled and slicked back, yet your longish manes flowed and adorned your figure, clad in a floor length ivory gown, your arms heavies a wide bishop sleeves, but your forearms are fitted, ends of your v-pointed sleeves rested on the back of your hands. Your bodice, from bust to waist, the ivory corset is encrusted in pearls and gold embroidery, aligned and patterned with black and green stones as your long skirts in mermaid-shaped flowing, not strictly.

Bowing to Blacks and Greens, the ever so watchful gazes on the crowd are perplexed, yet so many spectators are grateful for your deeds. Some women’s gaze directly lanced at your direction with envy, perhaps displeasure of King Viserys’s announcement. As for men, however, it’s unreadable for you, but with unknown gazes may have yet proceed to either have notable rancor or the deepest of illest intentions.

In Westeros, you knew that you could trust no man. For now, trusting the Targaryens is your only option, a sole bargain, a wager to your existence. Nothing has ever come to simple or as festive. All you wanted was to stay in the sidelines, watching the events unfold, not to be a part of one. The real question is: who sent you here, and what was the real purpose? Of course not, you’re just a simple and honest modern woman—or at least what anyone thought of your outward appearance, which prevailed by the designed precision of Queen Alicent and Lady Rhaenyra’s plan of softening image.

You weren’t meant to be here.

The scream emerged.

All eyes snapped away from your direction. One man grabbed—dragged away and pointed it’s knife at Princess Helaena’s throat at the centered floor, the guards had their swords up, as one of them demanded for the man to release the princess.

“None should accept a woman as a knight on the throne,” the man spattered, yellow teeth gleaming, his voice grating with delight, continuing to drag the princess away bit by bit.

“Mother,” Helaena pleaded quietly, the knife pressed onto her ivory skin, trying not to flail.

“It’s either the cause for the great nobles, or the cause of the war.”

Alicent is frightened for her daughter’s fate.

And so, you watched, palm clenched and unclenched. Hands behind your back, your body veiled with a silver sparkling cloak, but one hand seized the spare knife—your knife you had in your clutched purse, moving with caution as you descend the steps without anyone spotting your intentions.

“Let her go,” you said, before turning your eyes to theirs.

Soothe the realm.

The men flabbergasted at your appeased state. “What?”

“Did I stutter,” you said, ambling, the cloak floated a little. “You’re ruining the King’s celebration. Do you want to be executed? You’re in the presence of Targaryens.”

“I won’t lay rest until I see no woman standing beside the Iron Throne. I won’t serve by the likes of you!”

Shaking your head as you said, “Who said it’s about me?”

The man uttered no response but a heaving breath, near Helaena, furrowed with concern.

Unblinking, your head tilted to the side. “You want me, right?”

The man carefully laid his eyes on you.

“You don’t want the princess,” you resumed, drew nearer. “You want me.”

Soothe the realm.

Your eyes indicated to one of the guards to hold him down, but none succeeded on reading your body language. Looking at your side, Queen Alicent’s widened eyes glazed with warning, a reminder to soften the image. Prince Aemond still abide, his violet eye gleamed, his eye stated something more, wanting more of the anticipation of what you’ll do next.

“Let her go, and I’ll give you what you want,” you negotiated.

“What makes you think I could negotiate with such a pathetic woman?”

“Because I’m not a liar,” you declared, hand stretched. “Release her.”

After moments of hesitation, Princess Helaena has been freed into your arms, shaking. You lightly shoved her towards Alicent as you walked onward without looking elsewhere.

And before you knew it, a knife stabbed behind your belly.

The gasps ensued as the fight broke out, leaving the Blacks and Greens emerged with apprehension, still safe and guarded.

Turning around, the knife you held plunged into the backstabber’s throat, but missed—instead it became a slight deep scratch on the cheek and his hand smacked against your cheekbone. Falling down, you pulled yourself back up again and knocked him out unconscious and rushed to Helaena’s side again and escorted her out, leaving the guards to assign fate to the intruders.

The fate became crueler; the man separated you and Helaena, shoving Helaena aside the intruder hooked you by the arms, trapped. When another opponent came, you lifted yourself in the air, and punted the opponent’s chest with both of your feet, leaving you and the large man collapsed. Rolling back, you gathered yourself again and escorted Helaena back at the corridor.

A young boy screamed—Prince Lucerys—his arm being yanked through the crowd. Briskly, you aid to their side, shoving the crowd apart, you casted your cloak—aiming at the foe, and lanced the man’s neck, trails of blood exploded, smearing the young prince’s face and placed him back Rhaenyra’s side.

A tall figure suddenly shielded you; the knife flew at your direction; Aemond deflected the attempted shot with his spare dagger. Queen Alicent and Lady Rhaenyra rushed altogether—guards protected all and ushered back into the corridor, leaving you breathless.

The pain has been numbed due to the shock implanted.

Far back at the pillar, you watched Rhaenyra and Alicent exchanging with altercation while you find yourself leaning on the stoned pillar with your left hand clutched your bleeding waist beneath the white dress.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Rhaenyra stated in shaky breath.

“Of course not,” Alicent seethed. “King Viserys should’ve thought of bringing Lady Greenstar to the Iron Throne to soothe the realm before the commotion erupts.”

“I hadn’t known,” Rhaenyra argued back, cradling Lucerys in her arms.

“You did this. Lady Greenstar warned that this would happen. A private ceremony should’ve been suffice.”

“We need Lady Greenstar to unite both factions—father suggested to that.”

“Your ideas may influence others, but you’ll never influence with me from the misguidance of your indulgence.”

“I have made no declarations and decisions—it is my father who has done it so!”

Bellows of altercation continued as Prince Jaecerys stood nearby you, given you an awkward tight-lipped expression with his hands laid rest upfront.

Blacks and Greens watched two ladies quarreled with venom as your chest heaving. Gazing below onto your hand, the gold ring sparked on your fourth finger; you brought it up to your lips and kissed it.

Everything will be alright, a gentle voice reminded.

Lidded eyes hazed as the hand placed on your back shoulder; Princess Helaena walked over to your side and consoled you with diminutive smile.

Instead of returning the offer, you patted Helaena’s hand your half-lidded eyes in a suggestion that everything is alright. The concentration in your mind has been misplaced that Helaena began to tie your strands to tiny braids. You’ve inspected everyone. So far, it went smoothly—you’ve found no wounds, but when your eyes meet Green sons, your head inclined to a subtle bow. While Prince Aegon bowed back with his smugness, Prince Aemond is as elegant and unreadable. His eye still lay onto you as you faced back, watching the princess and the queen.

Altercations and debate went ongoing.

The aggravating pain hadn’t ceased.

“Stop,” you groaned.

The abrasion struck you so hard that you let a long groan, your head hung back, relied on a cold pillar.

“Lady Greenstar,” Jacaerys said.

“I’m fine,” you assured, eyes watery. “I’m fine.”

Daemon, no doubt, is suspicious. Shielding Helaena with your might, you held onto her spare hand.

The quarrel wasn’t far from over as you sauntered, the belly scorched again, pinching your nerves and coiled your stomach to a point of punishment you couldn’t withstand.

The cough unleashed, veiling the spots of blood.

Someone…

And collapsed onto your knees, trembling with cold sweat, fell onward.

“Lady Greenstar,” Jacaerys called aloud, as he caught you into arms, soon follow by your feet, your body weakened, slipped away.

“You’re safe now,” you said, darting at Aemond, offering him your sweetest expression laid on your lips.

Gradually, your eyes fluttered with slow blinks, choking. Then your vision faded to nothing.

~Aemond’s POV~

“My Queen, Lady Greenstar has collapsed,” Criston announced.

Queen Alicent and Lady Rhaenyra halted, and veered back to your lifeless body in Jacaerys’s arms.

Both women’s anger replaced with fear. “No…” Rhaenyra uttered.

“Take her to the Maester at this instant. We can’t afford to lose her,” Alicent ordered.

All the while, Aemond, the king’s second son, is devastated, powerless and hopeless as the life slipped between your parted lips. Piqued as he was eyeing on the golden ring rested on your fourth finger.

~Your POV~

What the hell was that?

“The life flashes before your eyes,” it said.

Your head snapped to the noise.

“Poor little woman, who’s life has been tormented one after the other,” a voice rang into your ears in a darkened void. “A life of a woman is no ordinary, but will soon be free.”

“Who are you?”

“My, you’re just a thing of beauty. A shame that comes price with it—ever so ethereal but with a demonic spirit residing in you since your childhood, all but bad luck,” it taunted. “You have killed and tortured the mundane, both men and women, especially in your days where you were trying to save your dying lover—born a thief and a liar—the evil men have taught you well.”

“What the hell do you want?”

“I want to make an offer, an offer to which it might entice you. Right now, your very soul is on the bridge between life and death.”

“I know that!”

“Of course you knew. But you didn’t believe that we exist.”

“All are anything but real.”

The voice’s rang into your ears with its taunting laugh. “But if you wish to remain alive and well, I offered you choices, one which the cost of your life to be rekindled. One which you cannot turn your back into—and I offer you this; stay in Westeros and serve the realm, serve the dynasty and find a new purpose and bond. Even if it means of forgetting your dead lover. Or, the Gods will offer a sweet and merciful death—your pathetic and tragic life will soon meet its end and face your maker.”

“I want to go home,” you objected.

“Going home is no longer an option; if you go there, chances are your death will be as quickly repulsive and vile; death is near at your doorstep as soon as your consciousness blurred.”

“What do you mean?”

“The men from your former clan are hunting you down. They have found you. You thought running away from a syndicate after burning everything to ashes would be simple.”

“Why Westeros? Why send me there? Who sent me here?”

“Those questions are irrelevant; time is ticking.”

“At what cost?”

“The price you’ll pay, it’s either your eyes, ear or mouth. Or I will decide for you.”

Goosebumps flooded over you, heart struck with quiver.

“I can’t,” you whimpered. “I can’t!” Fell onto the ground, hands veiled your face, walls you’ve built tarnished as your cries echoed through the void, cried longer than you should’ve.

“Sweet summer child,” it cooed. “Time is running short. The elder man of Hightower wants to burn your body.”

Another shiver ran.

“I know everything. Submit yourself to me, and I shall grant the desire—the offer I gave you—your life will start anew. What do we say to the God of Death?”

“Not today.”

“Good!” the voice rang, enchant. “I knew you have come to made your decision.”

The green light sprang and ran into your heart—your voice reached high into bellows and wails. Nails digging into your chest firmly, nails dragged with blood, already on the floor, knees on your chest. Ears rang in high-pitched noise; ears bleed as nose, and mouth drained in red flow, crying in agony.

“Don’t worry, child, you’ll soon meet the fate that you’ve been longing for,” it said. “You’ll find your purpose here. The history of Fire & Blood, alongside yours, will be rewritten.”

In that moment, you knew the unknown being wasn’t lying.

Taglist: @daonenonlysandman @toodlesxcuddles @kittendoll05 @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @taintedlovesworld @kukulyarva @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @herathedreamer @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @nananeptune @domithebomi @moonseye @valeskafics @faesspace @rxixo31 @tm-starr @xinthia19 @popsycles @naiaaramena @aleemendoza2425-blog @letmehavemyfictionalmen @aracelipf @ammo23 @blackswxnn @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @wolfdressedinlace @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @runekisses @jmii722 @colored-tr-panels @evergreen9083 @foggypeacestarlight @dixie-elocin @galactict3a @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216

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olderthannetfic · 5 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/740284683556929536/

Omg I'm so sorry! I wrote that anon when I was sleepy so it had very ham-fisted wording. Yes, I meant to ask about portraying self-esteem issues about bodies. I thought guys don't talk about it much.

To that one person, why would dudes comparing dick sizes be considered smut? I can see it being rated M. Are you suggesting the rating go up to E?

Ahahaha.

Uh... anon... if that's truly what you were trying to ask... I think maybe you need to work on your writing a bit more. The vibes you give off are odd, to say the least...

Like, creepy pervert angling for foot fetish photos while lying about what they want-level weird.

It sounds like you want to heavy-breathe while reading guys' descriptions of their own penises, not like you want help with writing.

The reason your ask reads so "She breasted boobily down the stairs" but from the other side is that guys, at least from what I've seen, do not stand around comparing their dicks, at least not in the way you implied.

The people who most commonly compare their junk out of curiosity are toddlers.

This is something tiny children do. Anecdotally, some teens do it, but a lot don't, and there are clickbait articles about athletes sizing each other up this way, but they are just that: clickbait. I'm not saying it never happens, but you wrote about it like it always happens.

It is fucking weird to have a grown-ass man routinely doing it outside of maaaaybe some weirdly homoerotic scene in a stoner comedy or something.

People joke about this practice because it's a thing that exists, not because it is ubiquitous.

That's also why it reads like porn. IRL, if some dude is like "I think we should compare our dicks... uh... and they should be hard so we can compare properly", many other guys are going to interpret that as sexual. And also self-deluding. Which is a good reason to say no.

Most people in locker rooms and public bathrooms try to give each other a little privacy if they can, regardless of gender. Openly ogling is what you do if you're about to proposition someone for sex. Or, if it's hostile, you stare because you're about to beat them up.

I'm not saying a guy couldn't sneakily see the size of another guy's junk and have a response, but the whole way you described this sounds like you've never spoken to a human before. Did you seriously get this idea from those clickbait articles?

Among other issues, penises become erect. They look different in different states of arousal. Surely, you've heard of "growers vs. showers"? Temperature also matters. There's a whole fucking bit on Seinfeld that everyone quoted for like years and is probably still quoting about "shrinkage"—i.e. a guy is insecure that someone saw him when he'd just gotten out of the pool and his dick looked small because he was cold. Hopefully, the locker room isn't that cold, but you still don't know what a dude's dick looks like all of the time from catching a glimpse of it one time.

So an adult man who is not completely unfamiliar with penises is not going to 1. openly stare at another man in the locker room and 2. look only at his penis and have some crisis about "Mine looks different".

I suppose for the right character in the right circumstances, you can sell any kind of goofy-ass reaction, including the "breasted boobily" stuff where women think consciously about their tits in a way that actual women generally don't and male authors love to write. But you have to make it a whole Thing. She has to have some reason why her nipples are super sensitive today and thus she pays attention when she normally wouldn't.

Instead, you keep asking these dumbass questions like you're 12 that boil down to "Literally all men are the same cardboard cutout based on their D&D stats from this character sheet. Please tell me some facts about these stats!" instead of approaching people as individual humans who all react differently. You haven't even said anything about what kind of culture these characters come from. Both personality and specific culture (not just big things like nationality but shit like whether they're athletes who change with the same guys all the time) are going to affect how and whether men talk about self esteem and bodies.

You're boiling this down to "What does the penis-having alien species all do?" despite already getting several answers that told you to stop doing that. You either didn't listen or didn't understand what people meant so badly that it's pointless to keep giving you help.

This is not a good way to write three-dimensional characters.

Now, I'm not saying nobody has ever snuck a peek in a locker room. Lots of people, regardless of gender, do that. But we're talking covert looks and that kind of looking gives you glimpses of many body parts and not always a very clear look either.

Most actual men on most actual days of their lives are going to feel insecure about their bodies relative to someone else because the other dude looks better at the gym or grows chest and facial hair more easily or is much taller or isn't going bald.

We love to make jokes about penis size, but in my experience, the level of perpetual crisis dudes have over potential baldness is way higher. There are a shitton of ways to be insecure about yourself and your body. That goes for any gender.

Maybe a dude feels insecure because the other guy is much less body-conscious and has an easier time changing in front of people or because he's paid five times as much and is changing into a thousand dollar suit.

Many of the markers of masculinity and attractiveness have very little to do with penises.

There's also a vast difference between your POV character thinking some other dude's huge package is admirable and your POV character thinking he himself is inadequate. He could think his own dick is average and that it would be nicer to be hung like a pornstar without being insecure about it. He could also have a big dick yet still be insecure about it because he's a weirdo who's obsessed with penis size. He could be a size queen who wants to take a ride on that. He could have an ex girlfriend who thought big penises hurt and be creepily fascinated and wonder whom this guy fucks and how they manage.

All this shit is a character point. Stop treating it as immutable truth where someone can give you the Correct Answer™ for you to slot into your writing or spank bank fantasies.

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sag-dab-sar · 1 year

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⚧️ The Gods & Gender ⚧️

Discussing Trans-Exclusive Radical Feminism and the views of the Gods is not "speaking for the Gods,"—it is looking at facts and information and drawing completely reasonable conclusions that squarely put the foundations of trans-exclusion in opposition to the Gods.

(definitely not audio proof read, sorry for the dyslexia)

🌿Aphrodite & Venus🌿

Aphroditos (or Aphroditus) is Aphrodite with male characteristics including a penis and/or beard.

A cult of Aphrodite included a bearded Aphrodite at Amathus, Cyprus on a high cliff temple. [Wikipedia citing Macrobius, Saturnalia III]

Her relationship with bisexuality (referring to being dual sex not sexual orientation in this paper), androgyny, and transvestism is also documented in Cyprus:

— Aphrodite in the Theogony by William Sale in Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association Vol. 92 X

(Sorry for the shitty screenshot JSTOR did not want to work with me)

This worship of Aphrodite with a penis was also seen as equal to Venus:

There's also a statue of Venus on Cyprus, that's bearded, shaped and dressed like a woman, with scepter and male genitals, and they conceive her as both male and female. Aristophanes calls her Aphroditus, and Laevius says: Worshiping, then, the nurturing god Venus, whether she is male or female, just as the Moon is a nurturing goddess. In his Atthis Philochorus, too, states that she is the Moon and that men sacrifice to her in women's dress, women in men's, because she is held to be both male and female." — Macrobius (c. 400s AD), Saturnalia 3.8.2

🌿Hermaphroditus🌿

There is also the "intersex child of Aphrodite & Hermes" named Hermaphroditus.

I have seen many use Hermaphtoditus as an excuse to wipe away the Goddess Aphrodite with a penis that the ancients worshipped. Which doesn't even make sense because I hate to break it to you— Hemaphroditus also opposes TERF ideology by its nature. A God existing as bisexed/dual-sex/bigender (however you'd like to word it) negates the idea that the Gods somehow support the ridged biological essentialism and gender binary that TERF ideology necessitates.

There are different accounts of Hermaphtoditus' creation but one, Ovids, tells of him merging with a nymph and then asking his parents to make the water transformative causing men to have thr effeminate bodies like women:

Her prayer found gods to hear; both bodies merged in one, both blended in one form and face. As when a gardener sets a graft and sees growth seal the join and both mature together, thus, when in the fast embrace their limbs were knit, they two were two no more, nor man, nor woman--one body then that neither seemed and both. So when he saw the waters of the pool, where he had dived a man, had rendered him half woman and his limbs now weak and soft, raising his hands, Hermaphroditus cried, his voice unmanned, ‘Dear father [Hermes] and dear mother [Aphrodite], both of whose names I bear, grant me, your child, that whoso in these waters bathes a man emerge half woman, weakened instantly.’ Both parents hears; both, moved to gratify their bi-sexed son, his purpose to ensure, drugged the bright water with that power impure." — Ovid, Metamorphoses 4. 28 ff (trans. Melville) (Roman epic C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.)

🌿More on Aphroditos vs Hermaphroditus read @theoi-crow's excellent post about them here.

Also some lovely statues:

Marble copy statue from a fresco at Herculaneum, Italy. X (left)

Statue from Pergamum, Turkey. X (center)

Statue from Nymph Sanctuary in Lacori, Italy X (right)

Statue from Pompeii, Italy X

🌿Inana & Ishtar🌿

From a hymn to Inana

To open up roads and paths, a place of peace for the journey, a companion for the weak, are yours, Inana. To keep paths and ways in good order, to shatter earth and to make it firm are yours, Inana. To destroy, to build up, to tear out and to settle are yours, Inana. To turn a man into a woman and a woman into a man are yours, Inana. Desirability and arousal, goods and property are yours, Inana. Gain, profit, great wealth and greater wealth are yours, Inana. Gaining wealth and having success in wealth, financial loss and reduced wealth are yours, Inana. Observation (1 ms. has instead: Everything), choice, offering, inspection and approval are yours, Inana. Assigning virility, dignity, guardian angels, protective deities and cult centres are yours, Inana. — A Hymn to Inana (Inana-C) ETCSL 4.07.3 in Lines 115-131.

This shows:

Inana has the power to change a person's gender/sex .... which means people can change gender/sex

This is listed among other normal things such as journeys, wealth, settlements so on. Suggesting that it wasn't super special, it was a part of Sumerian society that Inana was given power over.

This was written by Enheduanna High Priestess of Nanna, Ur's city God, and Inana. Inana was a popular Sumerian deity and Enhenduanna's father, Sargon of Akkad's, personal deity was Ištar. One of Enhenduanna's goals as a priestess was to conflate the popular Sumerian deity Inana with her father's Akkadian personal Goddess Ištar. Then raise Inana (and thus her father's personal Goddess Ištar) to an extremely high place in cosmology and explain just how much control she had in society— including over sex/gender.

Also from @sisterofiris's post on Inana's queer priests here.

🌿Nanaya🌿

In later times Inana/Ištar was equated with Nanaya but in earlier times they were worshipped side by side as separate deities. While Inana's hymn gives her rule of gender, a Nanaya hymn has her directly declaring she has breasts in Dadumu and a beard in Babylon. Leick also mentions here that Ištar was worshipped in both genders.

—Dictionary of Ancient Near Eastern Mythology by Gwendolyn Leick. Page 125.

🌿Asūšunamir with Ereškigal🌿

In Ištar's Descent (not Inana's) Ea's plan to distract Ereškigal and get her to bring Inana back to life is to make a beautiful being. Ea makes an incredibly beautifully brilliant being that's mere aesthetic presence will make Ereškigal happy and let her defenses down. And Asūšunamir's beauty works..... and he is an eunuch, an effeminate male, potentially queer from the ancient's eyes. And yet he is so beautiful he distracts a Goddess.

— The Ancient Near East and Anyhology of Texts and Pictures, edited by Pritchard. Ishtar Descent translation by E.A Speiser. Page 80.

🌿Eštan / Ištanu🌿

The Anatolians (Hittite in particular) loved to both mix deities and keep them entirely dependent like 8 solar deities and 50 storm Gods. But sometimes Hittite, Hurrian, Hattic, Indo-European, Mesopotamian all meld together making the identification of gender ambiguous or even interchangeable.

Eštan is one example (who has numerous equatings):

—A Handbook of Gods and Goddesses of The Ancient Near East by Frayne & Stuckey. Page 105

You can also learn more about the Ištanu and the Sun Goddess of Arinna and her gender from @sisterofiris in a post here.

I'm sure there are more! But this was my quick round up and sources I could put together. To all the trans & non-binary polytheists out there, you aren't abnormal and the Gods see you for who you truly are.

Edit: Want some more? Learn about the feminine qualities of Apollo

#polytheism #paganism #helpol #lgbtq #hellenic polytheism #mesopotamian #disc horse #lgbt+#queer #landof2rivers #ofthetheoi

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burningtheroots · 10 months

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I feel like an open book today no I don‘t identify as one so I‘ll say it nonchalantly. NSFW

Why are there so many men who expect vulvas to either smell like nothing or like flowers or something like that? Why are there so many men who find women‘s natural odors, both down there and in general, "disgusting"? Why are there so many men who prefer to imagine women as accessories rather than functioning human beings? Why are there so many men who think vulvas are ugly or need to be modified? Why are there so many men who complain about how vulvas smell and taste while simultaneously expecting women to embrace their penises as if they‘re a grand prize?

Of course, the answers to this are obvious: They don’t see us as humans, they see us as sex objects and servants and accessories. They don‘t actually like women, they like subservient pornified images and fanatasies which coddle their egos. They think they‘re perfect the way they are and inherently desirable (hence their hygiene is practically non-existent unlike women‘s) and only want to live their power fantasies in real life.

But at the same time, I just don’t … get it from a more basic point of view. I‘ll never understand straight male sexuality anyways, as it seems, but isn’t the natural state of a woman, and hence the natural state of her female body parts, what‘s arousing? Do they actually want to convince me that a lavender scent sexually arouses instead of a woman‘s natural smell? Do they actually want to convince me that they "like" women sexually whilst finding our natural bodies ugly and gross?

I really don’t understand it. When a gay man isn’t into women‘s bodies, that‘s understandable (though misogynistic comments are still off limits), but straight men who think and act like that are truly disturbed individuals. They‘ll make gross jokes and demand women to suck their cheesy dicks and claim to be a "women‘s man" whilst not even being able to see us as human, or to see how blessed they are to be with one (none of them deserve it honestly).

The way I experience attraction towards women is completely different than what these men experience. I see women as human beings with thoughts and feelings, I dedicate my time and energy to them, and I love their naturalness. They don‘t. And yet women like me are seen as perverts, fetishists and genital obsessed?!

Not seeing women as human and treating them like shit sexually is normal whilst seeing women as human and finding them sexually arousing in their natural state is gross? Seeing women as mere sex objects is fine but loving their genitalia & sex characteristics is not? Seeing women as your servants, modified dolls and jerk off material whilst exclaiming how unattractive & gross they are is compatible with love but the opposite is not?

Fuck that. Let women be sexual. And let women be natural. Let women be.

#women deserve better #radfem #radblr #I‘ll probably regret writing this in the morning #but every day I see a man or a handmaiden propagate this shit #I just needed to vent #sorry not sorry #as a man it‘s fine to say how pussy is gross and everything #but it‘s not acceptable for women to talk about how gorgeous it actually is?#either men fetishize you #or they call you a man-hater or transphobe for it #female sexuality isn’t like male sexuality #female sexuality shouldn’t be seen in relation to male sexuality #female sexuality is beautiful and unique on its own

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ovaruling · 1 year

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so much to unpack here.

im just going off of the presentation of this article—i’ve not looked into whatever condition this is any further yet. but the way the data is laid out within the confines of this article is alarming to me

affects MORE women than men, but this article is about men being sooooo afraid and ashamed to go to a doctor w this, despite the women coming in and openly going “i am extremely distressed please for the love of god help me”

and this study uses pornography—exploitation and objectification and outright filmed/photographed abuse of women—to help the poor embarrassed little men measure their arousal. but wait it’s ok bc it’s mixed in w “old school style” pornography! ;)

and the men come away w positive response to all this w targeted treatment

no mention of the sexual distress of women or its treatment or how any of this could ever be made ethical. i have so many questions. are women being treated and tested? are the women shown pornographic images? what images are determined for use? how are they acquired? are there any controls for women who are suffering sexual dysfunction owing to misogyny and objectification, with regard to how that is distinguished from the way men experience sexuality? do the doctors see ANY link between that reality and showing their successful male test subjects pornographic images?

perhaps i’m more aggravated by this bc i have been seeing specialists for months trying to get a single treatment option for my sexual dysfunction with absolutely no help. doctors looking at me literally going “we don’t know. i’m sorry, but i have nothing to suggest to you.”

i’m angry about the utter absence of medical attention for women’s sexuality. i’m angry about this willful lack of curiosity into women’s sexual problems and difficulties. i’m angry to be reminded yet again that men’s sexuality is not only prioritized, but considered a necessity. women’s sexuality doesn’t even seem to exist in articles like these. you have to actively seek them out yourself when trying to find answers. it will never be a headline jumping out at you like this.

because women’s sexuality is both obscene and trivial, evidently. and not surprisingly, but still disturbingly, our sexual desire is clearly not necessary for the world to feel that men’s should be able to thrive.

#medical misogyny #radfems interact

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writing-for-life · 9 months

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“M/M Ships Smash The Patriarchy”—But Do They?

Little disclaimer first: I don’t have a problem with m/m fics or art, quite the opposite. I’m a bisexual woman, I can find the idea of m/f, f/f and m/m interesting and yes, sexually arousing (each for different reasons though). And I’m saying this so explicitly because the idea that women need to engage in mental gymnastics to justify m/m ships is relevant to this post.

So please don’t take this personally if you like m/m, especially not if what I write very obviously doesn’t apply to you. This also has nothing to do with shipping m/m as a queer person, because the context invariably changes in most cases. This post is exclusively about the “justification” of m/m ships as something that “smashes the patriarchy”.

With that out of the road:

I’ve seen so many posts stating that m/m ships are removing “the whiff of patriarchy from fandom”. That the same dynamics would be problematic in a m/f or f/f ship, but they’re less “harmful” in a m/m ship.

And yes, of course women have been bearing the brunt of these objectifying dynamics since the beginning of time, totally true. But here’s the thing:

a) Problematic dynamics are okay to explore (not necessarily to condone, they are two different things) in fanfiction; it’s happened for as long as fanfiction (no, fiction) exists. We could go off on a whole tangent about what’s “problematic” (or not) in fiction now, and I’m not overly keen on that term, but it’d lead too far because we’d need to talk about a lot of stuff that’s not really the topic of this post.

b) Problematic dynamics don’t magically change because you apply them to a m/m ship, especially if you’re a (straight) woman heavily projecting onto characters. If there’s an age gap, it stays an age gap. If there are power imbalances, they stay power imbalances. If there’s violence/objectification/whatever else going on IT STAYS THAT. The mental leap from, “Men in m/f relationships are often, either consciously or subconsciously through what society condones, the perpetrator in that particular dynamic,” to “that’s why it’s not a problem in m/m relationships,” honesty baffles me.

So my question is:

If you want to remove the “problematic whiff of patriarchy from fandom”, but you are ONLY and EXCLUSIVELY centering two MEN in your fics, art and what you consume, are you really doing that? Where are the protagonist WOMEN that are written or portrayed in a way that isn’t patriarchal?

Too much of a stretch?

Why bring in “the patriarchy” (or whatever other justification) instead of just saying you like the idea of two men getting it on, and that you project on at least one, if not both of them? And I know many women are honest about this, so this is obviously not aimed at them.

And I’m not writing this in a vacuum—there are endless posts about exactly this, and quite frankly:

It is actually patriarchal and misogynistic to deny women the right to just feel horny when they read about/look at two guys fucking. Without justifying it in any way, or making it about something that feels performative (“We like the m/m ship because we’re queer-positive feminists”. Please…). That, right there, is internalised misogyny:

Women don’t need to morally justify their horniness. They don’t need to justify whatever they’re into and turn it into a performative event. They’re just allowed to like it as is. The end.

Why not just like what we like while still critically engaging with the question whether some of what we read and create is potentially fetishising gay/queer men instead of calling it “feminist and queer-positive”?

Because let’s face it: Straight women who ship m/m don’t like gay men because they’re gay. They like them because they project a straight woman on a gay persona that has nothing to do with actually being gay (just like most lesbian porn never had anything to do with being created for lesbians, or f/f relationships in books written by men were always serving the male gaze, but it’s easier to holler about that, right?):

At least one of them is the guy you fancy (sometimes both of them are), and sometimes one of them is (at least partly) you. It has always worked like that and always will.

But back to the main topic of “smashing the patriarchy”: We are talking about fanfiction and fanart here. YOU create it. It’s not the adult entertainment industry making billions that throws it at you. You are the CREATORS and CONSUMERS. You get to CHOOSE. And yes, that choice can absolutely be a m/m ship if that’s what you want. Again, there’s no problem with that.

But if your main argument is that you want content without the stench of patriarchy, how about actually centering women in it, at least from time to time?

#fandom misogyny #misogyny #fandom critical #if you don’t want the stench of patriarchy in fandom maybe stop centering men all the time #m/m ships don’t make the patriarchy go away #the way it is portrayed as a device for straight female projection actually perpetuates it

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aveegrex · 2 years

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DILF!SANJI

Just taking a guess at what a date with more mature Sanji would be like

genre: smut pairing: dilf!Sanji x f!reader word count: 1k cw: smoking (mentioned), alcohol consumption, blood mention (a metaphor), oral (f!receiving), vaginal penetration, kinda dominant Sanji

author's note: I'm obsessed with this man, and I love the og Sanji, but I haven't seen any speculations on what he would be like when he's older, so here is little something that I turned up with.

Just imagine a date with dilf!Sanji.

His ways with women have changed drastically since his twenties. He’s now subtle, reserved and collected, opting for the old-school courting and treatment. No more over-the-top compliments, no more abundant lovesick gazes and servitude, oh no - Sanji has grown into a perfectly mannered man, the one who can sweep you off your feet with just a simple gesture.

Don’t get it wrong, his attitude hasn’t changed. All the things Zeff taught him are ingrained into his DNA, and his respect for women is still one to be admired. It’s just that now he doesn’t explode his heart into your face.

When you fall victim to his infatuation, you don’t get to pick up on it until he wants you to. He treats all women with elegance, and you’re just mildly surprised at first that you’ve come across a pirate who would exhibit such vintage consideration. But the more he courts you, the drunker you get off him, and the more you see how irredeemably clumsy other men are. He’s like a pristine aged wine that you decide to splurge on once - you take a few sips and all other drinks are mere insults to your taste buds further on.

And the more you drink, the more you want.

So when Sanji, a weathered pirate with a nine figure bounty over his head, asks you on a date, only then you realize that his attitude towards you was, in fact, different from other women. You remember the longer gazes and slower kisses to your hand. You remember how he always puts his cigarette out in your presence. How his eyes always pick you out of the crowd first. How the honorifics that he uses towards you are more personal.

And when you sit across from him at the restaurant table, you know he’s got a weaker spot for you. You would be dumb not to know, when you’re at the only table left on the whole floor, sipping on a wine that’s labeled before you were born, some delicacy you didn’t know existed melting on your tongue. Sanji’s finger tracing circles on your wrist, his musky woody cologne a time-bomb for your arousal - just the setting makes you weak in the knees, wishing the evening would never end.

And how he listens to you talk, his eyes lidded, rare but quick witted comments highlighting his attention to the story - you barely hold yourself from submitting then and there, temptation to bluntly state your other sort of appetite still not acted upon, tickling the tip of your tongue.

You can’t help a clumsy suggestive statement slipping your lips and Sanji holds in an airy laugh, opting for a smile. He pays and tips, and slides your coat on your shoulders, offering you a hand as he notices a slight wobble in your feet. He’s a devil for the latter, knowing exactly how much his odor is driving you crazy, using your weakness for his benefit.

Yet you forgive this tiny mischief as his demeanor changes when you get to the more secluded part of town. He wastes no time nudging your chin up and pressing his lips to yours, his tongue tasting the dessert he recommended you about an hour prior.

‘It’s getting chilly. - his raspy voice bringing on the verge of moaning. - What gentleman neglects a lady’s need for warmth?’ A true devil, - you think to yourself, hazy mind quick to catch on his implication. You just nod, letting him walk you home and into your home.

Sanji Vinsmoke is a considerate bastard, a master tease. He has been simmering your arousal since he opened a restaurant door before you, but now he outright watches you boil in it, burning in need. He relishes in power he has over you as he sits you on the couch and kneels before you, slipping your heels off your feet and massaging the ache away. The dim lights of your living room enhance a hungry sparkle in his eyes as you whine when his thumb brushes against a sore spot.

Sanji has grown into a shark who watches you bleed to surrender before his feast ensues. The last drop leaves you when he plants a chaste kiss to the slope of your bare foot, his eyes not leaving your once, unblinking and predatory. You just lose it, whining a pathetic “Please”, and he hoists your skirt up, ripping your soaked panties off, stuffing his face full of your weeping cunt. The obscene slurping sounds, his groans and satisfied huffs - you deem yourself delirious because no man can hide such savagery so well. He’s starved, your weak hands finding purchase in his hair only forcing him to bury his face deeper, work his tongue faster to get a fill of his dessert that he so considerately skipped earlier.

It’s only when you’ve orgasmed twice he resurfaces from under your skirt and brings your trembling body to the bedroom, letting you fall on the covers as he rips off his clothes, wasting no time to slide in you. Swears leave his mouth and he rams into you, thrusting deeper and deeper, harder and harder until your eyes cannot even make out his form, glistening with tears of sheer intensity of it all. You don’t even moan anymore, you cry and scream, nails etched deep into his back, your own hips following him for more, more, more.

You feel like fainting, ragged breaths doing little to fill your lungs as his groin slaps against you, his cock rearranging your insides to his liking. Your calves on his shoulders quiver, threatening to clasp around his neck and snap it any moment, but he’s already spent all his considerations on you, fully prepared to welcome death if it comes in the minute of such bliss.

A fucked out moan leaves his lips as orgasm shudders your body, and his own one follows suit, leaving him to pant and shiver as an addict that has finally had his fill. He laughs at your unseeing gaze and lands on the bed beside you, making sure to discard any clothes left and to envelope both of you in blankets.

“Thank you for this evening, my heart. - his whisper tickling your forehead as you doze off. - I’ll have the rest of you tomorrow”.

reblogs are welcome, MDNI, treat your dates good and don't settle for shitty treatment youselves

#one piece fanfiction #one piece strawhats #one piece smut #one piece sanji #one piece fic #one piece reader insert #sanji vinsmoke #vinsmoke sanji #sanji vinsmoke x reader #sanji vinsmoke x f!reader #sanji vinsmoke x you #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #dilf!sanji #dilf!sanji vinsmoke

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cisthoughtcrime · 2 months

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Hi there, I'm curious what your thoughts on AGP are and how certain behaviors in females(such as Billie Eilish saying she masturbates in front of a mirror because it is "hot" and females claiming to have gotten aroused from breast feeding) seem to mirror what people use as proof of AGP?

honestly hadn't thought about it before, but you raise an interesting point. you ask for my thoughts, so I'll type as I think:

I think it's fundamentally an iteration of how performing for the male gaze reinforces male perceptions of what's innate to womanhood.

it's telling men that behind closed doors, we actually are having those sexy pillowfights in our slumber party lingerie, we actually are pleasuring ourselves when we insert tampons, we actually are living inside sex dolls rather than bodies they've so hyper-sexualised that there's nothing the female form can do that isn't at least a little horny.

(sidenote): I always think a little of 'post-nut clarity', this idea that once the arousal has been sated men get some sudden lucid neutrality that comes from their mind no longer being clouded by the sex drive, and how often that purportedly goes hand-in-hand with disgust and disregard for women once we've 'served our purpose' -- the women keep on being sexual, but the men are done with them and go back to a non-sexual normal. one part of playing into male fantasies of female sexuality is how we essentially stay in the 'pre-nut' sexual fog, never neutral, existing for sexual pleasure and therefore perpetually sexual. I think this perception feeds rape culture too, this notion that women are walking around as horny-for-men-the-way-men-fantasize and are just a forcible fingering away from dropping their stupid feminist pride and admitting to this reality.

AGPs take to an extreme this misogynistic male perception that there's such an inherent eroticism to the female form that women ourselves can't not be aroused by being in it despite being in it all the time, and they cite examples of women's self-sexualisation for an invisible male audience and performance for the male gaze as proof that this perception is accurate. they won't use any critical thinking about taking with a grain of salt the social circumstantial motives for women saying these things (like the public image Billie Eilish aims to cultivate as a celebrity performance artist trying to stay relevant, to gain and retain the male approval and spotlight necessary for her career, and the influence her teen fame and the ensuing intense sexualisation have inevitably had on her) -- they'll believe what suits their view and disbelieve what contradicts it, similarly to how men will buy that a woman in porn is acting when she's visibly uncomfortable but not acting when she's filmed saying she consented.

TLDR; again, I think it's fundamentally an iteration of how performing for the male gaze reinforces male perceptions of what's innate to womanhood.

#asks #anon #my posts

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joonslfttiddie · 5 months

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Home

Chapter 43: You Aight...

💜Fic Pairing: OT7 x OFC

💜AU/Genre: Reverse Harem/Polyfidelity/Ghosts/AMBW

💜Warnings: Smut/Adult Language/Adult Content

💜Rating: MA

💜Word Count: 3,830

Namjoon’s POV

This explains the feeling I have been having since their trucks pulled up. When I open the front door for the carpenter and his team, I can immediately tell it’s him. The carpenter, the smaller man wearing the low cut, plain, white t-shirt and black cargo pants, with his hair falling carelessly onto his face; he’s one of us. There is nothing special about his outfit, but he looks so fucking good in it. I already know that Tia is going to love him. After introducing ourselves, I call out for Tia. We’re ascending the stairs and again, I yell out for her with no response. I’m sure she’s either listening to music with her earbuds in, or she’s a bit busy and not alone in the bathroom. When her sweet aroma floods my senses, as I’m standing at the threshold of the room, I’d say it is the latter.

I watch as Yoongi moves around the room, taking notes on his clipboard that doubles as a binder. There’s something sexy about his sternness. He comes off a tad unfriendly at first, his face expressionless and focused, but there is something in his eyes that hints that he has a kind heart. I notice he has a habit of licking the corners of his mouth when he’s concentrating.

Cute.

My eyes follow him when he moves to another area. He jots on the paper and the veins in his hands are pronounced under his pale skin. Just then, his pencil stills and he glances toward the bathroom. He looks back at the paper for less than a millisecond before he looks back through the open door, eyes wide. Bingo!

He continues to peer inside from the corner of his eye, trying not to be obvious, but I already know what he sees. Like a moth to a flame, he moves closer to the entrance for a better view and he’s completely transfixed. He barely blinks and his lips are parted, like a man who’s not eaten in weeks; salivating and hungry to be a part of what he’s witnessing. I notice his Adam's apple bob when he swallows while his chest rises and falls, and then I see his penis twitch beneath the fabric of his pants.

He covers himself with the binder but his side profile is still revealing his lust to me. Tia’s scent is getting increasingly stronger by the second, which means she’s close…very close. Based on the carpenter’s body language, I’d guess he’s not far behind.

Another POV

Walking into the expansive room, I can already envision the building design and placement for the bed. My guys are still outside prepping the boards and getting the tools set up. I’m taking notes, jotting where there are outlets, and looking at the placement of the existing bed, but I feel…off. I guess that would be the best way to describe it. Since we pulled into the driveway, I’ve had this feeling that’s almost nauseating, but I love the sensation. It resembles the way I felt when I had my first kiss like there was a lump in my throat. Hot and incredibly aroused, it got even more intense when the door opened to reveal a tall, broad-chested, honey-skinned man. Namjoon.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

He lingers at the bedroom door, not hovering but clearly interested. Is he interested in the process of building the bed or me? I’m not sure, but I hope he misses me stealing glances his way. He’s trying to make small talk but I’m a little reserved. It’s not him, I’m just confused about why I’m having these feelings toward him. He’s still talking and joking and when I look over at him, he smiles. Oh my fucking God, I could melt right into one of those deep dimples. He is so fucking fine, and I bet he gets tons of women…or men… whichever. He traces my body and moves his focus on the necklace resting between my pecs, and then his gaze returns to mine. He flashes a half smile and I damn near drop my shit before I quickly look away.

We continue chatting a bit, though it’s mainly him, as I’m moving over to the nightstand that’s next to the current bed, which has been stripped of its linen. Suddenly, I notice movement in my peripheral vision.

Holy shit!

Through the reflection of the shower door, I see three people moving. I begin to salivate when the sweet aroma of warm vanilla wafts under my nose. Upon further observation, I see a woman who’s facing the door with a man licking her exposed breasts. Another man is kneeling behind her and it seems he’s eating her out. Their moans fuse into one delicious melody swirling around in my ears.

So enchanted, I forget that Namjoon is even here. Unable to help myself, I move closer to the door to get a better view. She is stunning, even with her hair coming undone, she’s perfect. I admire her features, from her eyes down to her parted full lips. Noticing little things like how her bottom lip is just slightly plumper than her top. Her nose looks like a button that God booped onto her face, and her caramel-complected skin looks so smooth and soft. Her body is curvy and my eyes travel from the fullness of her breast cupped in the man's hands to the way her dress hugs her waist, to the little pooch of her belly. Many women may feel self-conscious about that, but I love it and can already picture myself lying my head there while I taste her fruit underneath.

I lick my lips as an overwhelming hunger takes over me and I wouldn’t say I’m jealous, per se, but I definitely would like to be involved; to touch her, to love her, and be able to make her make those pretty sounds for me, too. The scent grows stronger with every step I take. I know I shouldn't be snooping, but I can’t fight the urge to see more of her body, the way she moves, the way her face looks as she’s about to orgasm. I’m not a creep, I swear…well, not usually though my current situation is definitely giving voyeuristic vibes. My eyes dance from here to there, taking in the obvious passion they have for one another, clenching the fabric of each other’s clothes in their fists and digging nails into each other’s skin. The scene is nothing less than tantalizing.

Judging by the way her brow is furrowed, I’m assuming that her climax is near. I can’t tear my eyes away from her and find myself covering my manhood with my binder as it is pressing firmly against my cargo pants; hiding, as I know that I shouldn’t be watching them. I would want nothing more than to be inside of her, to feel the warmth and wetness of her walls wrapped around me. Imagining this, I could release without being touched. The moment is so intense I can hear my heartbeat pounding and my blood whooshing in my ears. I'm panting hard as fuck like I may be on the brink of death right now and I’m okay with that. Just being here and witnessing this scene fills a void I’ve felt for so long, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t want more.

The woman opens her eyes to look directly into mine. I’m frozen in place, my breath catches in my chest, and fight or flight mode is initiated. Unsure of what to do, I look to the floor, but as if instinctually, my gaze finds her eyes again. I’m lost in those beautiful, sinful almond-shaped marbles, shaded a dark mocha brown. We stay this way and I swear she smirks at me.

So, you like to be watched, Love?

And I love to watch her but would rather be with her. Without breaking eye contact, I nearly crumble when I hear her whisper to the man now nibbling at her neck that she’s about to cum. She comes undone when her eyes squeeze shut. She whines, squirms, and moans while her pretty little nails dig into the skin of the man’s neck, as he continues to lap at her skin. I want nothing more than to see this every day for the rest of my life. She is already beautiful but even more so at this moment. She sings praises to the men then takes her bottom lip between her teeth. Her expression resembles anger but I know she’s far from it. The men lick and nibble at her viciously, only slowing as she begins to come down. And only then am I able to break free from my trance.

Namjoon is now standing next to me and gets my attention when he touches my shoulder, catching me off guard. I flinch under his touch. With a knowing smirk, he says, “Mr. Min…you aight?”

I honestly don’t know how to answer his question, but I nod before rushing out of the room and then out of the front door. Unsure of how to handle this situation, I go to my truck to remove myself for a moment to cool off and catch my breath.

“Boss, you good?” One of my guys asks and I reassure him I’m fine before moving to the front of the truck, out of sight. The crisp breeze helps calm me a bit, and I rub my cool hands across the heat of my cheeks for more relief. Embarrassment is not the word for what I’m feeling right now, and as much as I want the ground to swallow me whole, there’s a fervent pull urging me to go back and remain there.

What is going on with me?!

“Mr. Min? Hey, I’m Tia.”

That angelic voice pulls me back to the present, calming and grounding me. My heartbeat slows, I begin to cool down, and my mind goes quiet, which is oddly disturbing after becoming accustomed to the constant rambling. When I turn I discover the woman from earlier, now neatly put together and smiling. The world stops for a bit. The stillness is peaceful, something I’ve never experienced before as the anxiety that usually looms around me dissipates, creating a place of tranquility. I could stay here forever.

There is something about this woman. She can drive me crazy one minute and then soothe my anxiety the next; my cause and cure. This close-up, I can see the rest of my life in her eyes. She feels so comfortable, like a safe haven, blocking all of the negative thoughts and feelings I store within.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry if that was too much for you. I honestly didn’t hear you come into the room.”

“No. Ahem… I mean, yes, I’m fine. No, it wasn’t too much. You don’t have to apologize for what you do in your own home. I should be the one apologizing. I’m not a creep, I promise. I just couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from you. That was completely unprofessional and disrespectful of me to intrude on such an intimate moment. If you want to fire me and cancel the job, I will completely understand,” I ramble on.

She reaches out to touch my cheek, which I’m assuming is still red. Her palm against my skin sends tingles through my body and cools me so quickly I shudder. I have no thoughts now, nothing but her.

“I’m so sorry,” she responds, obviously misreading my body’s reaction, and goes to move her hand away.

Instinctively, I immediately grab her wrist, not wanting this feeling to ever stop. It’s not like me to be this forward or comfortable with people, especially someone I’ve just met. We are standing in the middle of her driveway like this, just staring at each other, until another man comes out of the house and walks over to us. I experience the same feeling from him as I did from Namjoon earlier. The feeling Tia elicits is similar but different. It’s magical.

“Jagiya, is everything okay?”

“Tae! Say hello to Mr. Min,” she says. I release her hand to take his, shaking it gently to greet him. His touch makes my dick jump again and lava flows through my veins, heating me from within...again. “Mr. Min, this is my boyfriend, Taehyung.”

“Please, call me Yoongi.”

“Nice to meet you, bro.”

Oh, shit! Boyfriend?! Then who are those other three…

“And the other guys upstairs are also my boyfriends, Namjoon, Jimin, and Jungkook.”

Ooooooooh.

“Oh, okay! I got you. That sounds interesting.”

I must admit I’m a little taken aback by that revelation. I didn’t expect it, but I’m genuinely interested in their dynamic. We chat a moment longer before she leads us back inside and into her bedroom where she introduces me to the other guys. After greeting them all, I’m still a little nervous but I’m getting more comfortable, especially with her. They all radiate that familiar feeling as if I’ve met them before.

We begin to discuss the design and I sketch out how they want everything. Knowing their situation, I can now understand the dimensions I’ve been given. This bed is going to be huge, one of the biggest I’ve built. All four of her boyfriends are involved, giving their thoughts and opinions on the build, and their energy seems to flow so seamlessly. There doesn’t seem to be any jealousy or difficulties compromising with each other. I am envious of it, but why? Because I’m here to do a job and will leave once I’m done. They get to stay here together. Fuck. Will I ever find happiness like this? Like them and with her?

Jimin’s POV

As I’m licking up the last bit of Tia’s essence, I notice a man looking at us before abruptly walking away. I was already confused at the nagging pull I felt while playing with Tia and Jungkook, but even more now. I’ve never seen that man before but once again, I get the same feeling from him as I did from the others.

“Is he…”

“Yes. It feels like it,” Tia answers me before I can get the question out. “But for some reason I didn’t see him like I saw Hobi.” She hurriedly rights herself by fixing her clothes and finishing her hair.

“Who?” Jungkook, having his back to the door, has no clue what happened.

Before I can answer, Namjoon peeks around the corner.

“Should I go talk to him?” He asks Tia, his expression is a mix between concern and amusement.

“No, baby, thank you. I’ll go,” she says before kissing us and then disappearing out of sight.

“Who?!” Jungkook is still oblivious. While Tia is trying to de-escalate the situation, we inform him on what is going on. “Holy shit. So that’s why everything suddenly got so intense,” he realizes.

“Yeah, probably so. He’s definitely one of us,” Namjoon adds. “I could tell before I even opened the door for them. I feel bad that I didn’t stop him. I knew you guys were in here being freaky. I could smell her.”

“I guess that was for the best, though. May as well rip the bandage off,” Jungkook tries to comfort Namjoon.

“Fuck. I wonder how many of us there are,” I ponder.

“I wonder, too. Also, have you noticed we’re all drawn to Tia and met her at this house? It’s like parts of us were already here before we stepped foot in the door.”

Jungkook is right. We’ve all been near or inside this house when we met Tia and it has always felt like home; like we belonged here. It’s as if finding a piece of ourselves that we’ve been unaware was even missing. I honestly don’t remember how I’ve lived before finding them. Was I living or just existing?

Tia and the carpenter come back upstairs accompanied by Taehyung, who stretches his eyes wide at us, making us aware that he knows what’s up, too. We all introduce ourselves before Yoongi gets us back on task. He sketches and measures, listening to our feedback but he also gives suggestions regarding the design. Tia offers we move the bed against the wall furthest from the bathroom.

“I like that too. If it’s there, there will be no obstructions for Namjoon to run into while going to the bathroom in the middle of the night," Jungkook notes, flashing his bunny-like grin to which Namjoon tries to poke his finger into Jungkook’s side. We are all aware of how ticklish that spot is for him.

“That, and the sun won’t be shining in our faces early in the morning,” Tia suggests with a chuckle.

“Yeah, I agree. Especially when JK has to work the night shift. I’m sure it’s hard to sleep during the day with the sun beaming in,” Namjoon adds, now rubbing Jungkook’s back affectionately.

“Maybe we should still keep our clothes in our own rooms just so we won’t wake anyone else if we have to start our day early,” I offer.

“Hmm,” Jungkook agrees with a nod.

“All those suggestions are good, but I’m just imagining being able to see the shower from bed,” Taehyung teases.

“Boy,” Tia laughs, playfully pushing Taehyung. “Stop it.”

Is that a smile I see? I swear that Yoongi has been straight-faced this entire time, but to see him smile, even if it was for a split second, warms my heart. However, there’s also a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. I wonder what he’s thinking, but I can just feel that he’s going to be a tough nut to crack; one who holds his feelings inside.

I had already stripped the bed of its linens earlier, which is what I came up here to tell Tia when I found her with Jungkook. With that out of the way, we help by taking the bed apart and move the pieces into one of the vacant bedrooms. Once the area is clear of the chairs and the mattress, which we’ve moved against the opposite wall, Yoongi gets to work.

We leave the room to busy ourselves with various things, feeling comfortable leaving Tia with Yoongi to have some time alone with each other. Jungkook crosses the yard, heading to the gym, while Namjoon immerses himself in one of the many books in the library. Taehyung, after finding several cameras in the library, has gone outside to take a few shots while I go down to the basement to arrange the bar Tia hasn’t had the chance to tackle. I hope she doesn’t mind, but I get rid of the bottles of wine the police didn’t take for evidence, only keeping the old bottles of liquor that are still sealed or too high for anyone to reach. We haven’t talked about it, but I don’t want to take any chances of them being contaminated. Just the thought of remembering how sick and helpless she looked when I first met her, makes me shiver.

Tia’s POV

I have a thing for power tools. I’m not sure why, especially with that not being something I shared with my father growing up. However, I’m like a kid in a candy store looking at everything Yoongi has brought to build the bed.

“This is a nailer, right? I’ve never seen one this quiet,” I ask, pointing to the tool in Yoongi’s hand.

“Yeah, it’s also called a Brad nailer. I use this one, which has an ultra-quiet air compressor, mostly when working indoors,” he answers, so patient as I continue to ask questions.

“Ah, that makes sense. So, do you usually do everything on-site? Is your saw downstairs?”

“For the most part, we work on-site unless a client calls with definitive dimensions that we can have precut before we go out. The saw is outside since your build is unique. We’ll cut the boards and sand them outside, wipe them down really good, then bring them up. I love that you decided to keep the natural wood aesthetic.”

“Yeah, it’s just so beautiful. I would hate to cover it with paint.”

“Are you wanting it stained or…?”

“I’m not sure. What do you think?”

“Personally, I think the natural color of the wood will look nice with the gold hardware you have in the bathroom and the door knobs. Also, it’d be a nice contrast against the darker hardwood floors and the whites and grays of your decor. But, honestly, once you put the bedding on, you probably won’t be able to see much of the frame.”

“Okay. Well, do whatever you think is best.”

“I mean, this is your bed. You guys have to live with it, not me,” he says with a chuckle.

“Well, I want you to like it, too.”

His questioning gaze lets me know he’s wondering exactly what I’m trying to say. A tense silence fills the room before he speaks again.

“Tia, you have boyfriends. I’m not trying to overstep here or think too much into what you’re saying.”

“What do you mean? What do you think I’m trying to say?”

I’m intentionally playing coy, trying to let him know that he can speak openly with me. I would send him some positive vibes, emitting how my heart feels, but it doesn’t seem right to use my gifts when he’s unaware of them. He seems a bit more closed off than the others initially were, so this connection is a little different for me.

“Why would it matter if I like the bed, Tia?”

The way he looks at me and his directness catches me off guard. My heart begins to race, and I feel the overwhelming urge to submit to this man. I’d be on my knees barking in a second if he told me to do so. Peering at him from under my lashes like a puppy, I’m sitting so close to him on the floor with my hands in my lap, as if waiting for instruction. He goes back to working on the bed, nailer in hand.

“Answer,” he demands without even looking at me.

Period. One word is internally driving me crazy.

“I was just thinking…” I begin, mumbling.

“Speak up,” he stops to look at me daringly.

Oh my fucking GOD!!! The tone of his voice is deep, lazy, yet commanding. Like a fucking boss.

“Ahem. I-I’m just thinking that it will be nice if you stay over some time. You should like the bed, too, if that were to happen.”

“Hmm,” he huffs while licking the corners of his mouth.

Should I act on my body’s desire and lean over to suck his tongue into my mouth? To kiss him, right here and now?

“Is that what you want? What do you want to do with me in your new bed?”

#joonslfttiddie #bangtanwhq #ambw #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts #black protagonist #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoesok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #reincarnated lovers #reincarnation #reverse harem

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bxwitched · 2 years

Text

Diamonds Are Forever - Part Three

Warnings: Non-con, dub-con, dark content, sexual assault, death, sex, nudity, angst, violence, swearing. Explicit 18+ only, please read at your own risk.

Characters: Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: You're rescued from being one of Vought's experiments, but are you really safe?

Word Count: 2.4K

AN: This ended up being much longer than I had planned but here it is. Comments, shares and likes are appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.

You flip the three men off over your shoulder as you start towards the house, stopping intermitently to tug at the hem of the short dress or adjust your feet in the ridiculously high heels that Butcher had coerced you into.

'You gotta blend in, love.'

'You mean I need to look like a hooker.' Soldier Boy had snorted at that and you had made a mental note to chew him out for it later as you close the distance to the rear patio.

You freeze as you near the edge of the pool, the sounds of pleasure coming from inside are like a symphony of sin and a cocktail of sweat, sex, and cheap perfume hangs heavy in the air. It hits you like a freight train and overwhelms your enhanced senses, you force yourself to take deep breaths as you scrunch your eyes closed, it's all too much and you will yourself to focus, block it out.

You straighten your back and tilt your chin up as you regain your composure, you fake an air of confidence as you take measured strides into the home, ignoring the naked couple who are engrossed in each other by the patio door.

Everywhere you look is a sea of bare flesh, the air is thick, almost sticky as more supes, men and women than you can count fuck openly without a care in the world. You are surrounded by the slick claps of flesh, moans, groans, screams and the low grumble of sex toys. You're paralysed, so bewildered by it all that you can't help but flinch when you're startled by the sharp crack of a leather riding crop, followed by a squeal.

Your entire body feels hot, both from embarrassment and arousal and there's a strong tingling sensation between your legs. You curse as you shift on your feet and feel a flood of wetness in your underwear, your body reacting to the activity around you against your will.

You accidentally lock eyes with a tall man a few feet away and you swallow deeply, he has a woman positioned on all fours on the coffee table in front of him and he's pistoning his hips into her roughly from behind. His hands grip her flesh tightly and you can see the discomfort in her features as his movements become more erratic, too fast to be human. He stares you down as she cries out beneath him.

"How about you next, gorgeous?" His baritone voice sobers you and you force what you hope is a sultry look.

"I'm just going to slip into something a little more comfortable, ok? I'll be right back." You throw him a wink and continue through the house. You need to find the twins, the sooner you find them, the sooner you can get rid of the others, only then will Soldier Boy finally fulfil his end of the deal and kill the bane of your existence. You can't get distracted.

You weave through the hallways and duck in and out of the crowded rooms, politely declining the advances of the male and female supes who proposition you as you search for your marks. You let out a breath of relief when you finally find the twins in question, they're animated, sitting in front of a flat screen and screaming at each other whilst the female of the two fusses with some wires.

You type out a text with the room location to Hughie and press the send button, the green line is almost all of the way across the screen when a weighty hand lands on your shoulder and you jump in shock, spinning on your heel to face the owner.

It's the tall brunette from earlier, he blocks you in against the wall with his large frame and grins predatorily as he eyes your figure. You tense as his hands wrap tightly around your hips and he pulls your lower half flush to his, his exposed cock presses hard into your stomach and leaves a wet smear on the fabric of your dress, a testament to his earlier activities.

"I hope you're not trying to hide from me, gorgeous. You said you'd be right back." You barely conceal your disgust as he snakes a hand further down and grips your ass in his large hand, he gives it a hard squeeze and groans lewdly.

You can feel the anger bubbling up inside of you, you want to tell him to fuck off, to hit him and feel the satisfaction of his nose crunching under your fist, but you know that you can't make a scene. Not here, not now.

You take a deep breath before putting on your best dumb smile, you throw in a giggle for good measure and hope that you're convincing.

"Hide from you? Never! I was just uh-" You flounder for a moment, trying to think of a believable excuse.

"I was just looking for somewhere a little more private for us to go.."

You groan inwardly as you realise what you've said too late. He raises an eyebrow at you in surprise and his grin widens, exposing his pointed canines.

"Are you shy sweetie? Don't you want me to fuck you right here? Let them all see?" You run a hand along his exposed shoulder, fighting the urge to maim him as his fingers wander further, slipping under the hem of your dress to toy with the edge of your underwear.

"Maybe I just want you all to myself?" His chest puffs slightly and you feel his cock twitch against your belly, you fight the wave of nausea that rolls through you. Good, he's bought your act for now.

He snatches your hand in his and starts to drag you back through the house, towards the stairs. You feel eyes on your back as you reach the first step and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see Soldier Boy stood in the doorway, looking back at you with an unreadable expression.

What the fuck is taking him so long?! You think as you pray you don't have to carry out this distraction for much longer.

You're pressed to the back of one of the bedroom doors, desperately trying to ignore the feel of this supe's hands on your skin, his body pressed against yours and the feel of his mouth laying sloppy kisses on your neck. His touch is nauseating and you want nothing more than to rip off his cock that he's currently grinding into your hip.

Your self-restraint at this point is outstanding, otherworldly even, that is until his hand slips just under the waistband of your underwear and all of your resolve crumbles.

You throw his hands away from you and shove his chest with force, so much so that he flies a good fifteen feet across the room. He hits the wall with a crash, leaving a man sized dent as he slides down it and into a heap on the floor. It takes him a moment to reorient himself and sit up, he growls as he shakes the loose plaster from his hair and levels you with a scowl.

"You fucking bitch!"

He's across the room and on you in seconds, he delivers a backhand your cheek, it's hard, but the look on his face is priceless when he realises that you're uninjured by it.

His eyes widen when your hand clasps tightly around his throat and his hands clutch at your arm as you lift him to the tops of his toes. He's trying to scratch your skin, to dig his nails in, anything to get you to release him as you choke him out. Your face pulls into a sneer as you watch him panic.

"What's the matter, baby? You practically spit the word. "You don't like it rough now?"

His eyes are bulging slightly and his face is puce, he looks on the verge of passing out and you want to stop, to let him go but you can't. The anger burns hot in the deep of your belly and all you see is red.

You hear a commotion in the distance, screams and hurried movement and then, it hits you.

You cough as you pull yourself into a sitting position, you've been thrown several feet by the blast and your ears are ringing loudly, the room is blackened around you and the furniture is is in pieces, destroyed. The other supe lays lifeless in the corner, a pool of his own blood is forming around him and there's a large piece of metal sticking out of his chest, his eyes are open but empty.

You step through the hallways, carefully avoiding the debris and the bodies that are strewn across the floors, some whole, some not. The metallic stench of blood is overpowering and screams sound in every direction. You breathe heavily as you take in the carnage around you.

Both you and Soldier Boy stumble into the room at the same time, he looks disorientated and confused, he holds his chest with one hand whilst his green eyes take in the destruction around you.

"What happened?" He mumbles out. You flash Butcher a look of concern which he returns, you're about to speak when a voice singsongs behind you and freezes you in your tracks, still in place as you feel your blood run cold.

"Diamond.."

You turn slowly to face the source of your nightmares, he's grinning at you but you know that he's furious, you've learnt to read him, you can see it in his baby blues and in the way that his gloved hands ball into fists at his sides. He tutts loudly and wags a finger as he stalks towards the three of you.

"William, didn't your mother ever teach you not to steal other people's things?" His voice is condescending and you see Butcher's jaw clench.

You bristle as he looks at you pointedly, his face is now eerily expressionless and Butcher straightens his stance, readying himself for the inevitable fight.

"Yeah, well. Who am I to refuse a damsel in distress, mate? Especially when she hates your fucking guts." You flinch as Homelander unleashes his laser eyes on Butcher, throwing him into the nearest wall with a crack.

You rush to crouch down by his side, checking for a pulse and you exhale sharply when you find his steady heartbeat. He has no major injuries from what you can see, he's just been knocked unconscious.

Homelander's focus settles on you again and he smiles.

"Don't you worry angel, all is forgiven. I just need to kill this one and then we'll go home, hm?" A shiver runs through you, the warmth in his words is unsettling and you scowl back at him, no longer able to hold back the venom inside of you.

"Fuck you, you fucking psychopath! I'd rather die than have your bastards!"

His face drops at your outburst and his expression hardens into stone, the vein in his neck throbs as his voice fills with malice.

"Too bad you can't."

Soldier Boy steps forward then and partially shields you from Homelander's view with his body, you thank him in your head, grateful to have a barrier between you and your tormentor.

Homelander grins as he starts to recount to Soldier Boy about how much he idolised him as a child, how he was the only one who was almost his equal and you watch as he stares back at the lunatic in front of you, indifferent.

"Buddy." His deep voice is gravelly as he eyes Homelander with a look of distaste. "You think you look strong? You're wearing a cape. You’re just a cheap fucking knockoff."

The crazy glint in the supe's eye is the only warning you have before he's flying across the room and taking Soldier Boy with him, he slams him into the wall, momentarily winding him but then he starts to fight back. The two are exchanging blows, moving and ducking as they land hits on each other, the fight seems to be going in Soldier Boy's favour until Homelander gets him against the wall, a hand wrapped around his throat as he lifts him off of the ground.

You're on your feet before you can think, sprinting towards the two men. You jump onto Homelander's back and wrap your arms around his throat in a chokehold, cutting off his airways.

He drops Soldier Boy in surprise and grips your arms instead, he's trying hard to get you off of him but his efforts are in vain as you duck your head down and sink your teeth into his left ear, biting down until you feel the pool of hot blood in your mouth and he screams in pain.

In a last ditch attempt to shake you he suddenly flies upwards, his body lands horizontally against the ceiling, with you behind him and the force of it crushes you beneath his weight. Your breath catches in your chest as you feel you ribs crack and your body goes still, you crash to the floor in a heap, choking for air as the pain crashes over you.

You hear the fight resume around you even in your half-conscious state, you hear the crashes of fists meeting flesh and the grunts of exertion. You cough shakily and groan when you feel blood in your throat, the iron tang is unpleasant on your tongue.

Butcher has since rejoined the fight and in the moments between the waves of pain you question how he is still standing and not a pile of singed meat on the floor.

You roll onto your side with as much energy as you can muster and spit out the blood that's pooled in your mouth, you whine as the movement causes the broken bones in your chest to shift.

They're winning you realise, as you see that Butcher and Soldier boy have Homelander pinned to the floor on his stomach. Soldier boy has his knee on his back, leaning his entire body weight onto the other man as he grits his teeth and furrows his brow in concentration. You frown as Hughie appears in a blur from nowhere, naked as the day he was born and grabs hold of Homelander's left arm, helping to keep him in place.

"Do it! Now!" Butcher's voice fades into the background as you focus solely on Soldier Boy, the tendons in his neck are flexed and his teeth bared as his whole body tenses. A bright light radiates from his chest, it's warm, like a beacon as it burns brighter and brighter, you watch until you're forced to close your eyes, the light burning at your retinas.

'This is it.' You think. You rest your head back down against the solid ground, all of your energy has left your body. 'It's over.'

The crash of glass is the last thing that you hear before you blackout.

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