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Cattle Boy: Performing Masculinity Wrong

Original Medium version here.

Azriel Pierce is a cistrans mascfem Soulgirl who cannot be described as anything but a “Radical Gender Expansionist”.

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When you are this thing, a cattle boy, they’ll put more weight on you — testing your durability. Seeing if you can handle masculinity and manhood present within it. If you wanted out, you were called emotional and a traitor. You are the meat they eat, you are the dairy they drink — the leather they wear.

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Masculine World

Masculinity is not one overarching concept. Instead, it varies depending on how the culture views who and what gets to be masculine and how that is presented in language and time. To become a man and be declared a man is a specific form of growth that does not finish, that does not bloom, but grows like nails and vines. Manhood is consistently tried and put on display to criticize in a way that mocks itself.

To many, masculinity is to adhere to the common themes of ego, stubborness, strength, and breadwinning natures described as traits used by those “on top”. This form of masculinity is often called toxic or patriarchal masculinity because it upholds the patriarchy against men and women alike.

In those specific themes, you must always deny your association with womanhood and must listen to other men by ignoring the pleas of comfortability. You must also focus on asserting yourself into sexuality as the primary benefactor, your family life and trauma should not curse you, and your body must have no imperfections from past battles.

Anything other than this is a blight to masculinity and is to be questioned and mocked so that one may “experience” said growth (“Show me you’re a real man”).

If you do not have the ego, you cannot be a hero. If you are not stubborn, you cannot be deny responsibility. If you do not have strength, you are weak and feminine. And without making money, you are not valued.

Masculinity is vast, and yet we are stuck with the outlined attributes created and perpetrated by western standards spreading through our cultures. And because masculinity in the western world has always been related to being white, heterosexual, and Christian, being anyhting but these is effeminate and unvalued.

Masculinity that challenges male dominance, such as butchness or tomboyish attitudes, is seen as “ugly” in women and GNC/trans people. Said masculinity in these people are not valued, sought out, or recognized beyond lesbianism. Yet, even when said lesbianism allows masculinity, it is expected to still be apart or attached to a feminine figure or person who was born into “femaleness”.

Between The Two

I was born with a mullerian indication, meaning that I had indicators that helped in me being assigned female. I had a mullerian growth which resulted in being protomullerian — which are sex traits aligned with femaleness. XX chromosomes, enlarged breasts, wide hips, uterus and vulva, etc.

Being protomullerian had not caused me dysphoria until I hit puberty, in which I had begun to grow out these features that left me disgusted with my body. Since middle school, I have always been interested in being like the boys. I had an affinity for femininity or womanhood as if I was an outsider, a het boy. If I was smarter then, I’d realize that my attraction was being used against me by those around me.

Boys who saw me and my then girlfriend would gawk. It would be something that they had dreamed of. Two women, holding hands and laughing and being in love. They asked questions, they observed as if this was something taboo. Yet, I saw this as a young boy falling in love with a young girl. This was a heterosexual relationship. They were intruding.

I was always like the boys. I was the only mullerian outside of my mother in the family. My younger and older brothers were protowolffian — meaning they had sex traits aligned with maleness. I grew up the same way they did and had been allowed to be a tomboy.

Even when my neighbors were girls or I had friends in middle school who were just like me — mullerian — I did not refer to myself as being like them. I had ended up seeing myself entirely as this distinct concept from masculinity and femininity because I was never percieved as having both or any of it. They could call it androgynous, but that isn’t the right word for what I was dealing with from others.

When I reached high school, I noticed a lot of changes. I had gotten bigger, bulky and fat, but not exactly overweight. I tested out different names and learned a lot about how I felt regarding women and men. From the start, my presentation was lazy and I covered my body in jackets and hoodies. I dared not show my skin or my chest, and if I did, I was too fat to be feminine anyway. Hiding the fat, hiding the chest, hiding the hips — I tried to run away from my own skin in fear of being a woman because I sure was not a man and if I was not a man then I was a woman.

My friend group was full of white wolffian nerds and queer black women.

My earliest identity crisis regarding being transmasc had to have been during the discovery of plurality. In which I became aware that I was masculine because someone who snuck into my head had declared they were. I was outwardly plural in school, at home, and even with extended family — but I never shared our names. I had relations with the many people in my head as if they were physically there, and I felt pains along my body when they dug nails and cried into my skin. I felt it physically, and still often refer to myself as ‘We’ instead of ‘I’ when introducing myself online or to the public.

Self expression like that had caused the first rift. My da has always been traditional, and will never stop being so just because my ma is a little understanding of queer people.

Because I was masculine but not a man, I was not seen as entirely masculine but as butch. Butch is another word for masculine, but is seen used by lesbians and is now associated with them. I had called myself a lesbian for some time, which made me uncomfortable when a gay man in the plural system decided to control the body. I questioned a lot of my expression and sense of self, and definitely felt guilt for “appropriating manhood”.

I was expected to be feminine even if I was known as a stud/bulldyke. I completely distanced myself from femininity because I was never accepted as having it.

Black people like me, especially black women, have been called witches and “men” for showing inklings of their assertiveness and being ruthless towards those who seem to take them as a joke. From the start, people of african american descent were always seen as having hyper-masculine attributes — from our roots in slavery to our fashion and presentation. Black people like me never get to be feminine unless we are lighter, had thinner hair, short in stature, or were half-naked. So due to the fact that I never had any sisters, was called “grown” for being feminine, treated similarly by classmates, and looked with disgust because of my weight and race — I never obtained the connection to femininity and girlhood that I felt as though I wanted. I never had it and so I was never entirely a woman when I became an adult.

Breeding Bullock

I was not a woman because I was not feminine, but I had to be a woman so I could not be a man — and if I was masculine but not a man — then I was butch, a stud, or a bulldyke and not seen as a man or a woman.

My da once asked me why I had to be like a boy and why I couldn’t just be like my older cousin, who was a lesbian.

“Why can’t you just be like her?”

By then, I had severe body dysphoria regarding my breasts and my vulva. I felt beyond dirty, like a moldy rag. I felt as though my body was not supposed to be like this, and if it was, I was supposed to have a body that fit what I was — masculine.

I wasn’t allowed to be masculine though.

I stepped out of the house on day, into the backyard. It was summer, a nice peaceful summer. I had a white wife-beater on, with no bra. I was 16 or 17 at this time. My bottom was covered with shorts, sport shorts that fit boys in particular. I walked out to see what my parents were doing, which to no ones surprise, was smoking and fixing a broken tool. I walked out with shoes, intending to help them. This was routine. If I saw my da outside working on a car or his lawnmowers, I would go out and help him. That was the extent of my masculinity.

And he had told me, when I walked out with clothes on — with what my brothers had been wearing, with what HE had been wearing —

“You ain’t no boy.”

And that sunk in. I had enough. I went back inside, I sat on the bed. And I simply hugged myself. I had carried myself as a boy, questioned myself as a boy, present myself as if I was a boy — even if I knew that I had not entirely adopted the manhood and its labels. I still felt boyhood as a way that I was socialized, as a way I was raised, and as a way people treated me, until I no longer wasn’t when it was convient for others. I am always told what to wear, what not to wear — that sexual assault is the fault of the clothes not the hands that breached consent. And here, it was just another example.

Maybe, it was silly betting all of my emotions into being a boy.

But I had felt true freedom as a boy. As playing the role of a man, I felt true bliss. Yet, I did not have the same privileges to be arrogant and cocky and to be masculine as boys did and I still am not regarded as entirely seperate from the man and woman diachotomy. I was denied my womanhood because I never got to be a girl, but I also wasn’t allowed within manhood because I had been born into a body that wasn’t a boy.

Compared to a cis man like my da, he had already shown that he was capable of being everything a man was and more. There was no reason to teach his children how to be men — how to be masculine — when they were always expected to learn from other wolffian leaders in their environment. So instead of fixing bad behaviour that I had picked up as a result of only having masculine friends and wolffian influences, I used said toxic masculinity as a way to hide being a girl. People didn’t recognize I was one, others didn’t see me as anything but an enigma — between or stranger to what was the gender binary.

Masculinity, as a whole, can only be described by using vague experiences such as leadership or assertiveness. Even masculine black cis men will not have the same experiences as masculine white cis men, and those factors are specifically tied to how black men are seen as more masculine due to their race, the supposed links to violence, and racism. I will never share the same experiences with a masculine black cis man or a masculine white cis man because of how I was raised, and I will never have cis man privileges or the privileges of anyone born to fit into the patriarchy. That will never happen for me, and I have never expected it to..

I was just never raised as a girl, and was never in social spaces with women, and never interacted with them outside of how a heterosexual boy or a protector would — which created the confusion of how I was supposed to identify when people saw me this way and others saw me as the opposite. I was tied in the middle when there was no middle for me to start with.

For some ungodly reason, I was punished for being a boy when I was raised and treated as such due to hyper-masculinity. I was denied femininity and still am on the basis of my race and upbringing. So what was it? What was I?

The closest thing was being a butch. In AAVE, related terms were studs or bulldykes.

There seems to be a bit of a confusing way to use these terms, as butch has been used to mean masculine — but is something entirely different from both manhood and womanhood all together. To be butch is more than to be just a masculine lesbian, those are tomboy lesbians (I just call em’ tomms). To be butch is to be mature, to be the form of queer masculinity that isnt manhood and is tied to womanhood due to lesbianism, but not always functioning as women.

Even in lesbian spaces, due to not being feminine and because many believe masculinity equates manhood, butches are subsequently left out in fear of “men invading women spaces”. This belief has carried onto the fear of anyone who presents with queer masculinity — which is masculinity outside of the cis binary, and instead follows anything that is remotely distinct, nonbinary, xenic, trans, or nonhuman in a way. Lesbians who are freightened of butches have subsequently pushed butchphobia into queer spaces where phrases like “femmes and nonbinary people only spaces” actively tear down and rip into the community when it comes to housing, conversation, workplaces, safety, etc.

A woman being masculine, a butch, a stud, a bulldyke, a bulldagger, a stag — it was and still is regarded as disgusting to so many people.

I have had multiple similar experiences that studs have faced for being queer masculine, where our masculinity was tested by the use of introducing how we would react to physical violence by men and sometimes as a crude transphobic joke — by trans women. They would say that “even a trans woman would put us in our place”, and that men could fix us by corrective rape.

Recent events surrounding boxing, which made people around the world comment intersexist and transphobic things about a real person, choosing to attack her for the way she looks and the way she acts. People calling this woman “a transgender” in order to claim that she had been born with wolffian clusters. To claim she was a “man disguised as a woman”. That she won because she was “biologically stronger”.

At the height of that, I saw people advocating for the absolute harassment of queer masculinity, provoked by a boxing figure who could not by her nation and her religion — could never be transgender, and could never represent their country if she was. Said queer masculinity in this case was never even introduced, and yet it was caught in the intersexist crossfire to build upon the oppression and fear of masculinity in sports, in women spaces, in queer spaces, and much more. I had seen words written and said by queer people as a way to push masculinity down and perpetuate complete disgust towards butches.

Representation in lesbian spaces happen to be femme leaning, and in trans spaces those who seem to speak up the most are transfems. The majority of nonbinary people who are acknowledged are called “she/theys” and “theyfabs” as insults and slurs as a way to mock how they are all feminine in some way. All of these aspects tend to bleed into how there is testimony and genuine fear in many queermascs who deal with being erased because of how traditional queerness is often depicted — feminine.

Beef Cattle

Queer masculinity has always been a way to defy what traditional queerness looks like, intentionally or not.

In queer spaces, femininity is often seen as queerness itself because women who are feminine and not submissive are easily seen as lesbians. This isn’t just how men see a lot of assertive women, it is how cis lesbian women react to butches and studs. When they see a lesbian, they expect someone who is still presenting as a traditional woman or a fem. If not, then you must be adhering to “heteronormative rules” or relationships.

Since feminine men are seen as gay men or “fruity”, nonbinary people are always depicted as being mullerian, and feminine women are seen as gay women — queer as a label has been pictured to mean hyperfeminine. This is where we get into how the supression of masculinity is inherent in a community where queerness is always seen as feminine.

In lesbian spaces, androphobic lesbian women who hate trans women because of their “manhood” always cite their fears with masculinity as being from possibilities and never in the case of real queer mascs harming people. If you are a masculine trans woman, you are then treated even worse. This vilifying rhethoric is towards transmascs, masculine women, BIPOC lesbians, intersex lesbians, and multigender lesbians. In all of these cases, a Gold Star Lesbian — probably named after the reward a kindergartner gets when being the teacher’s pet, in this case when a lesbian outs and harasses other lesbians for gender identity and orientation to please cishetnormative society — would create strife and say that transmascs cannot be lesbians because of their manhood, or that they can be lesbians as long as they don’t transition and that they are perceieved as lesbians.

For me, I was described as masculine because it was easier to say that than queer masculine — and had never crossed my mind at that time that queermascs were being left out of the conversation to “better” the community.

With gay men, not all of them are feminine and many fit into traditional roles of masculinity that allows them to feel respected in outside situations that do not revolve around queerness. This is not a claim of them being privileged, it is a claim of masculine gay men being extremely underepresented because it is harder to clock them or to depict them as anything but “secure in their manhood”. Gay bears who are masculine are one example of this.

On the other hand, masculine gay women are punished for “wanting to be like men”, and are downplayed in their masculinity because its easier to clock them as gay. In the case for butches, if they fail to meet the standards of cis masculinity, that means that they are either pretending to be masculine all together or they “switched sides”, further giving rise to the idea that those connected to womanhood and are masculine in some way are able to use “AFAB privilege” to hide back into the closet.

For anyone who is not connected to womanhood, manhood, and are nonbinary, intersex, or agender, masculinity is a variable and a presentation used to address how they would feel if they were connected — because in this world, you are either cis masculine or subservient, where all femininity is seen as being apart of the subservient class alongside those presenting masculine wrong. If you do masculinity wrong, you are punished for it and are seen as submissive and weaker — regarded as a faggot and fairy.

Masculinity is said to reward others for their hard work to fit in, but I do not feel as though I was ever helped, as if I was ever aided in being who I was supposed to be. When I am called by name or by mention, my femininity is disregarded despite it being right next to my masculinity, my transness is always forgotten about when it came to discussions about trans issues, and I was always seen as this faker or poser in spaces that were supposed to help me and represent people like me. Not once have I ever been rewarded by cis men for being masculine, I have always been punished and I have always been told that my boyhood and my masculinity is a danger to queer people and white people alike.

I do not have the meat of a wolffian cis man, I do not have those parts that they have, but the other halves of me — breasts and vulva — are still on the market and are seen as ripe and for the picking because of how mature they are. These tits are strictly tied to me, and when I express slicing them off or getting rid of them, I am specifically targeted for not being “grateful” for the body that God gave me. When I express that my uterus is useless and that my clitoris should be four inches — that is when I am ungrateful and that is when I will “change my mind” about never having kids. When I speak out loud, an audience appears and tells me that I will regret the choice that I make because it will be irreversible damage. That is the point.

But the difference between a choice I have made and selling this body to someone else’s wishes is that when I finally make that choice, it is not okay to do so because it was not the “right parts” and the “right way” to remove my possession of them. I am supposed to bend to the wishes of others, and allow them to slaughter me. I am a feeder cattle who was raised for this meat to no longer be in my possession so that they may have enjoyment in eating me instead of me being able to take that choice. They slaughter me before I can make that choice.

To maintain forced femininity, queermascs (no matter their sex traits) must be bred to induce and support the narrative that we are confused little girls or mentally ill gender freaks.

Our masculinity is tried and tested because it is not viewed as real enough, and so I question those willing to call our struggle a privilege in times where queermascs are able to exist and not be seen, and said invisibility creates a veil between our community and our place in the world.

Draft Animal

What would one call this pressure? The outlined hate for queer masculinity by use of transphobic, butchphobic, intersexist, and exorsexist language against masculine people of those groups?

To put a label to the condescension, to the irrational screaming from TERFs claiming that queermascs have been deluded into being scary men, and how ugly we will become and how angry we will act when we begin T.

A mutilated body, a bald head, patchy and sweaty skin, to fear those results to the point of exaggerating what queermasculine people will ever look like in order to scare us from ever transitioning or being social. When queermasculine people exist, they are said to be “gender traitors” and are “failing the WOMEN” in the queer community because lesbians can “only be women”, and that gayness is a binary between two genders of the same presentation. A label that describes when queermasculine people are accused of being aggressive, of being evil, of being rapists and abusers because of our presentation and gender — when manhood is vilified as if we benefit from ever being tied to it.

What of a label for when people practice malgendering? A tactic used to gender someone correctly for the main purpose of painting their character as entirely representative of aspects of their gender, including blaming the patriarchy on trans men, calling trans women useless for their womanhood, referring to nonbinary as their pronouns only to mock them for it, treating xenics as other than living beings due to their gender or presentation.

When you are a draft animal, you are kept around in order to support the people who do not want you to be who you are. You work for them, you abide by them to satisfy their needs and their wishes. If your body is not entirely theirs, then they are told to give you away or put you down.

Your cargo is the weight of expression, upholding gender, and carrying the words from cis people who want you gone.

I am a draft animal, carrying masculinity on a cart, watching as the streets swirl and I am watched, gawked at, grabbed and pet at like I am from a zoo — like I am not in control. Like a child to be craddled, not as an adult who chose to transition and who chose to be comfortable in my own body. Because I was born mullerian, I am assumed to be weak and womanly and feminine even when I have been surrounded by black women who are feminine in all ways except disrespect. They are then called “ratchet” and “ghetto” and “rude” for asserting themselves as not to be messed with.

I have been protected by black women my entire life, my honor safeguarded by their power. The misogynoir within people’s hearts when they find a woman of color who is powerful… It boils. They begin to feel threatened, uncomfortable by the possibility that a woman like can treat you the same way you treat other women. But I see it from another point as someone who is percieved as a “strong black woman”, and that is realizing that the strength and the masks they put on are based entirely in trauma. Black women want peace, they do not WANT to fight, and yet everytime they are called to fight in place of people who cannot fight for themselves and they notice how tiring it is. I’ve noticed how tired I am of fulfilling that role.

Black men are ten times more likely to be killed and have their masculinity questioned because of racism. Patriarchal black men have decided that instead of putting that rage out against racism — patriarchal men come back to their community and force masculinity upon women they do not like. They traumatize families in the display of their masculinity that they feel never existed because they were never considered human to begin with — they are seen as draft animals. I do not believe black men want to fight, I believe that they have exhausted all of their other options though. And that the people who are supporting them most may be the same people they call “ghetto” the next day.

I was raised and protected by black women my entire life, and I do not doubt that one will be by my side when I am hurt. And so I do not use masculinity as a way to categorize who is capable of being hurt or not, I do not use my manhood as a way to control black women, I do not force my hands upon them and I do not put misogynoir back into my community because I FELT threatened at the moment.

To let that frustration out on people who have done nothing wrong is where the view of all forms of masculinity and the fear of it begins to arise.

Androphobia is the clinical fear of manhood and men. It can include wolffians to people percieved as men. These fears are real, and stem from repeated or second hand experiences of rape by men, sexual assualt, domestic abuse, familial violence, and consistent misogyny. It is a phobia, and many do not and will not heal from trauma that causes it.

Because it is a phobia, it is recognized as irrational even if trauma does cause it. This fear is sometimes used to drive home the phrases “kill all men” and “all men are pigs”. This is confusing men who uphold the patriarchy and men who cannot, will not, and have not benefitted from the patriarchy.

The identites caught in this are trans men, transmascs, queermascs, nonbinary men, genderfluid men, queer men, intersex men, etc. Transandrophobia is the fear of trans men and its subsequent prejudice against them, but even that word is still cooking alongside anti-transmasculinity and isomisogyny.

So what is the word to use?

If transandrophobia is for transmascs and trans men, transmisogyny for transfems and trans women, exorsexism for intersex, altersex, and nonbinary people, and butchphobia refers to those who are butch only.. what word would a masculine person use to describe how their queer masculinity is called “sodomy”, how queermascs are seen as fragile and weaker, how their masculinity is forced into femininity to present in the queer community, how this identity is attacked first compared to the rest of their gender — what do you call it when a woman’s masculinity is targeted? What is the word for when masculinity is deemed evil or oppressive? When you are called ugly for presenting as masculine and queer?

Lets try on some labels.

Cowhide Leather

To me, this problem is the reason why I feel as though my gender is complex and intrapersonal — it is why I do not find it easy to describe beyond existing alongside my body as if I am not of it’s grasp. My masculinity is me, but my femininity is this body, and I exist within the femininity that is this shape, that is these sex traits. When I walk outside, my masculinity and my ability to be like one of the boys is hindered because my masculinity is now acknowledged by passing — but is recognized to be lesser — and is seen as “fragile” or “fake”.

I can pass for a cis man, but everyone clocks that masculinity as being fabricated and from a source that is not “actually manhood”. They respect my pronouns, my gender, my identity — but in a way that subtly is used to figure out if I am a “real man” or not. Malgendering.

I do not believe I am exempt from transmisogyny or transandrophobia or exorsexism — and yet I believe that I am not experiencing any of them.

I am not being clocked and attacked for being “a man cosplaying a woman”, no one is afraid of me being a “confused little girl”, and no one is denying my identity and existence by use of surgery or the binary. I am not experiencing anything like this. But I am being questioned for my masculinity, I am being singled out for performing masculinity in conjuction with femininity, I am told that I am letting transmascs speak over transfems, I am told that I taint my femininity with my masculine self.

Queermasculine struggles are not less common, but they are invisible to both the community and outside society, resulting in people who are feminine and adjacent (transfems and flamboyant gay men) to be highly criticized for their femininity not being inferior. The struggles with transfemininity cross into the hate for queermasculinity.

As mentioned before, masculinity when failed is seen as fragile and effeminate. Trans women who are protowolffian have their masculinity ridiculed from the start and get “inferior femininity” forced upon them as a punishment for failing “superior masculinity”. This means that their reclaiming of femininity is not the same as a trans man claiming masculinity, as that said trans man would never be punished with masculinity but punished for attempting a false version of it. Trans men are not given the benefits of masculinity and trans women are forced into submissiveness. While transfems have that version of femininity that they must reclaim and rebuild so it does not service others and the patriarchy — transmascs have to claim their masculinity repeatedly because they are denied it in the first place for failing and are denied femininity because they are men.

Replace trans men with butches/studs, masculine gays, masculine intersex people, etc and you will see what I mean when I say that this is not just transmisogyny, transandrophobia, or exorsexism. This is a repeated way queermasculinity is seen, addressed, acknowledged, and gained in and out of the community. Masculine nonbinary people suffer from not having housing like butches do, their masculinity is seen as fake because they are nonbinary, and their struggles with representation in queer media is because of their masculinity.

I do not believe that misandry is an accurate term to describe this experience nor is it used outside of counterarguments against feminism. In other words, misandry is not a phenomenon that sprouted as a way to discuss how men belittle each other but as a way to counteract how women are treated by men and how to deflect that responsibility to destroy the patriarchy alongside others. Cis men are not demonized for being cis masculine or upholding the patriarchy in their communities, they are rewarded for doing so by being surrounded by other men who pride themselves on being superior, leading to consistent fighting and disapproval amongst what makes masculinity strong.

Cis masculinity is consistently fighting to prove that the masculinity they already have is able to be used against others, intentionally or not.

Queer masculinity is never being able to obtain masculinity that benefits their queerness and their queerness alone without having to accept femininity or the patriarchy.

We are not the same. And the struggles shown by the use of the word “misandry” obviously only counts for cismasculine people who have their masculininity ready to use.

Ever since I had joined conversations about transandrophobia, I have never once felt a deep connection to persue the term beyond declaring its existence and supporting those who theorize. I am not someone who is entirely sure that I even felt represented by the term, something to use and something to be used. I did not feel as though it could describe my experiences as someone who was not a man and did not have a connection to manhood outside of how I raised myself.

This disconnect had allowed me to find people who were like-minded in what I had been proposing; a term that refers to the invisibility, malgendering, and feminization of queer masculinity.

It is not the fear and subsequent discrimination of trans men, so it cannot be transandrophobia. It is not the sexism and hatred of trans women, so it cannot be transmisogyny. It is not the prejudice and erasure of nonbinary, intersex, and altersex people, so it is not exorsexism.

I have read work from different places to further aid me in this process of desconstructing what me and a wolfemic transfem have coined — Misabviriy.

Misabviriy, as it is disected, is the hate (mis-) for queer masculinity (ab- for “off” or “away”, viriy for “manhood, masculinity”).

Misabviriy and Superiority

The first point is that masculine individuals are being depicted as superior to women and above in any way as long as one performs the masculinity correctly, which gives incentive for said masculine individuals who are correctly masculine to use said performance in order to get rewarded. Then, because they are doing it correctly, there is the expectation that they must have a prize. If they do not get one, they feel as though they have been lied to and their masculinity is being threatened. Because queermascs are masculine and/or transition to masculinity, there is the assumption that they want said patriarchal power and are able to get it naturally without recoil or a fight.

Misabviriy and Invisibility

Due to the hypervisibility of queerfem individuals by queer media, transphobic outlets, and crude imagery, there is hyperinvisibility in queermascs. The interest in transfem bodies due to their sex traits, and the disinterest in transmasc bodies specifically come from the narrative that because queermascs and transmascs are either confused “little girls” or holding fragile masculinity, transfems and queerfems must be the predatory “grown men” and ugly women type who can’t date fragile mascs. To those following TERFism, queermasc people are hiding their real selves behind masculinity as a way to compensate for failing the patriarchy horribly, and are not the real culprit because they are being “groomed” and tricked into masculinity by being a tomboy or a butch. Said queermasc identity is then questioned until they are either shoved back into the closet, or they stop being masculine.

Misabviriy and Sex

Displays of misabviriy that revolve around sexualizing the sex traits of queermascs have been widely ignored in the community. Masculine intersex people have been told that they were not intersex, and that their masculinity could be changed with corrective rape. Butches get this treatment as well and often due to being lesbians and not being a woman “correctly”. Notable displays of it are with the “cuntboy” depiction where transmascs are reduced to their reproductive system, the “silent protector” type in butchphobia where a butch is deemed useful only in sex and when protectinf femmes, and the mystification of masculine nonbinary bodies when they are not visibly feminine. Queermascs who have vulvas are also expected to bottom in pornography and in relationships, leaving a hole of content and resources when it comes to topping after phalloplasty or with a tdick. In this area, queermascs have higher rates of suicide and the possibility to be sexually assaulted, and yet the only aid a queermasc will get is if they are feminine enough on the outside to hide it. Queermascs are also more likely to detransition or become feminine at the wishes of a cis or trans sexual partner, prioritizing the sexual partner’s pleasure with a sexual “tool” instead of a preference. Testosterone is a common transmasc form of HRT, and yet it is hard to be transsexual as a masc. Testosterone is a controlled substance, and no amount of market work around will help get it any easier for DIY HRT. The lack of queermascs and transmascs on T when they want to makes others believe we are still “women”, that we want to be feminine, and that once we get it we’ll be ugly. Some people, like intersex people with low T, could die without it. And yet, we still do not have it. I am not on T, but have been taking DIY DHEA, and it is because I know that I can only afford and find resources on DHEA.

Misabviriy and Malgendering

As mentioned before, malgendering is when validation of an identity is used only to be against said identity, usually for excusing violence or discrimination. Queermascs, especially transmascs, are positioned between being denied womanhood based on identity and being denied manhood for “choosing” it and doing it wrong. Malgendering is used to scare, to put fear into one for what they may face as the gender they transition to. While not exclusive to transmascs, malgendering is used against transmascs by wishes of harm, calling trans men the “men of the trans community”, and using correct pronouns and terminology to make a joke from said trans person. GNC women who embrace masculinity are targeted the same way, starting with many people using their masculinity as a way to validate their strength, only to use that affirmation to challenge them to a fight since they are “so strong”. It paints their targets as weak fragile women. The idea that queermascs are fragile and tainting their body with masculinity is used by Baeddels, Radfems, and TERFs who target trans men and call anyone else “collateral damage" for being in the way. In queer spaces, wolffian mascs and anyone who is remotely masculine regardless of gender are seen as dangerous because their ties to masculinity means that they apparently operate under the patriarchy and work for it. Queermascs, especially those who are trans men and intersex people, are more likely to be denied life saving treatments and gynaecologists due to their identity, and this denial can lead to death.

Misabviriy and Feminization

Queermascs such as masculine nonbinary people and butches have always been feminized by the outside world as a way to quell the disgust or discomfort with them being masculine. Separation of masculinity from their queer identity is a common occurrence in communities that are supposed to aid them in being who they are. As said before, queermasculinity and those who are of it are seen as confused little girls (the basis for ROGD) and predatory men due to their connection to masculinity that is “wrong”. Because of this, not only are queermascs the victim when first transitioning but are predators lurking to lure transness into innocent girls when they are post-transition and confident. From inside the community, many butches have faced being left out of media and out of the narrative when it came to lesbianism as they were slowly turned into guard dogs and sexual pleasure — focusing heavily on how a butch is “still a woman”, and the joke of “forgetting the bookbag” that is overused. Depictions of masculine women and queermascs are always in a way where their physical features “prove” them to be not actually masculine and that they are pretending to be masculine. Queermascs have also reported feeling extremely left out and lost in inclusive spaces that actively call out queer masculinity alongside patriarchal masculinity while uplifting patriarchal femininity that wishes to benefit from the patriarchy by pulling women and queer men down into terms like TIF, female brained, “woman bits”, and fake feminism that relies on bioessentialism (TME, TMA..) and gender wars (they ultimately do not earn benefits due to misogyny).

This isn’t to say that queer men and mascs cannot and can never uphold, take part in, or indulge ideas that agree with patriarchal masculinity. Misabviriy isn’t an excuse to be patriarchal. Queermascs can partake in it all they want, usually for protection under the guise that their manhood is cis passing, but there are no benefits for doing masculinity wrong and being perceived as the wrong version of masculinity when their hyperinvisibility wears off. Repowering is what I would call this — when queer people veil or mask their maginalized status to identify as cishet perisex people, regaining the power they lost over their identity when they transitioned or came out of the closet. Repowering is not when a trans person hides in the closet and pretends, or when they do not transition at all, because you do not gain power in the closet and only do so when using your former cishet identity as a mask for your true self to feed into horrible narratives and cycle queerphobic language/notions — intentionally or not.

I believe that anyone can practice repowering, including trans women who veil as men in order to gain the little bit of lost power that the patriarchy would give them by feeding into harmful sterotypes, tropes, and reuse intersexist, homophobic, or transphobic language to fit in. Privliege is a conditional concept that exists only when the perception of a queer person is not queer but cishet perisex. When a trans woman partakes in repowering, then is actually found out to be trans, they are no longer holding that privlege not because of their gender but because of their transness. Same with trans men, nonbinary people, intersex, butch, and other queer people.

Queer Masculinity Future

I have wishes for the future too. I have a life too, I have a world that I wish to see.

I don’t want to see infighting, I do not want the binary to persist, I do not want to bring forth a world where gender is valued through power and oppression — I wish for a world where gender is expanded beyond all limits until it no longer means anything. I wish for gender to no longer be biological, no longer social, not longer binary — I wish for gender to be intrapersonal. Something only you can affirm, something no one can take away from you even when you die, something that you work to prove for your pleasure, not anyone elses. I am a radical gender expansionist, and that means that these wishes will become my reality by any means necessary.

Labels will mean what they mean, but they will not be used to create or single out a group of people unless they have no experience. There should be no “oppression olympics” of trans communities, there should be no one speaking over lived experiences, there should be no one forcing each other to identify or creating terms used against groups of people who do not agree with your view. There should be nothing like that. And all of it seems to point directly at gender essentialism and gender wars. In order to punish the fires of them, we must quell it by personalizing gender instead of grouping gendered people into neat boxes.

I have fears that queer masculinity may not be present in the future.

I fear that our expression will be centered in the battle against cis masculinity, and if we do not speak about our struggles, then we are the object crushed under the heel of the foot. If feminism does not include men and the liberation of queer manhood, then it will not succeed in destroying the patriarchy for queer manhood is the number one enemy to the patriarchy. The patriarchy is afraid of us, afraid of what we are doing to their “daughters”, afraid of what our bodies would look like after transitioning, afraid of it all. They are scared, and we make them scared of our masculinity.

Feminism should include the liberation of queer manhood alongside womanhood, feminism should give us the right to speak alongside everyone, feminism should allow queermascs space to talk about how they are affected by the patriarchy. Feminism, I fear, should not exclude us.

I smile with joy at the displays of masculinity.

For that masculinity is what I would call queer masculinity, where the patriarchy dies at its teeth, at its claws. For queer masculinity will be at the forefront to the death of the patriarchy. I smile in joy when I see trans men binding and cutting their hair, grooming their beards, with free top surgery, with feminine figures, with masculine features, with long hair, with free breasts, with phallo or without, with manhood running in their blood, with their sex altered, with their sex unaltered.

I smile in joy when I see intersex men prancing for joy at their intersexness, when they are proud, when they love themselves, when they don’t need to bind, when they don’t need to be masculine, when they aren’t androgynous, when they are happy, when they fight IGM, when they are men and embrace manhood.

I smile when nonbinary mascs are fully masculine and do not back down for the pleasure of others.

I smile when multigender mascs are queer in every way, who embody all forms of presentations.

I smile in joy.

I have wishes for the future too. And those wishes should become reality, as we unshackle cattle boys from their prisons. Where the farms are dismantled, where the industry is brought down with their hooves, where the young are not slaughtered back into femininity, where we are not kicked when we are torn down, when we are not brutally pushed around for existing, where cattle boys are not starved, where cattle boys are not fattened for their meat.

Where the patriarchy and queer community stops claiming we are appropriating queerness and are dangerous.

Open Range Still Means Shackles

Between all of this, I do believe that my experiences and my troubles are painted here to be of priority to be solved in the future, where queer masculinity is not inherently dismissed as cishetnormative or oppressive.

Queermascs still live in a world where our oppression is seen as our fault, and that as cattle boys, we must suffer for the choice of being the oppressor.

I suffer independently to the patriarchy, whether or not it exists, other facts such as behavior in and out of communities, bio essentialism, and racism will still persist. But the centerpoint for all those thing happens to be the pleasure of the patriarchy. Destroying it, not just because it stands for oppression, but because it still keeps cattle boys in a roundup open range or not.

Further reading is linked in the Medium post, consider supporting Lunabelle and I on our queer journey.

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thenatallie · 7 months ago

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This story is about Feyd and Margot go wild. Explicit smut, Nsfw, 18+. Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy

Control

Feyd: What's in a box? Margot: Pain. Feyd: Face puzzled, mysterious smile on his pouty and perfectly shaped lips. He puts his hand in the box. Margot: Do not quit no matter what happens until i say so, it's very dangerous if you quit, my Lord...

Feyd could feel enormous pain while in his mind his hand burns to the bones. When pain became unbearable even to him, he started to laugh maniacally, showing shine of his black teeth, veins on his forhead enlarged. Margot: Enough. Now pull your hand out and look at it. He looks and his hand is perfectly normal, no pain and burns at all. "I assume I have passed your test", he said. Still kneeling, he wanted to get back where they were before, so he brings his lips even closer to hers. His eyes quickly shift from her lips to her eyes, gaze so full of pure desire. With a husky voice he asked: "So... You are here to honor my coming of age?" - "Yes, my Lord" she replied shyly, becoming aware that she suddendly blushed and tried to hide her eyes from him. Feyd: Than I want my birthday present. He breeds heavily, his warm breath on her lips. Margot's heart pounding harder and harder. She could expected this scenario, among some others. However, she could not forsee her reactions to that psychotic beast... There is a burning sensation in her lower stomach that aches for that kiss od his... "Just for my curiosity", she lies to herself. Feyd had never been with such a powerfull and misterious woman before, which added to his excitement. His lower member already ready for the battle, wanting to get out of the robes... Margot acts naively: "And what do you want for your birthday present? Tell me..." He replied with an ever lustful voice: "You... are special... You deserve a special treatment. And no more Bene Gesserit tricks from now on", he warned. Then he finally traces her lips with his own. They both breathing heavily into each other. He feels mesmerized, she pants and parts her lips. Satisfyed with her response, Feyd's kiss becomes feral. He bites her lower lip almost drawing blood. A sharp gasp leaves her mouth. She looks at him with desire, but being puzzled by his unpredictable behavior. His piercing gaze never left her eyes, while he deliberately slowly rises and starts to unbutton his robes. It lasts for eternity. She exhales in awe when finally sees his sculpture-like, poweful body... And his thick shaft! She was already wet for him, a natural response, she's trying to calm her conciousness, when he says: "Be still" and draws his knife, cutting and pulling down her beautiful dress and headscarf, leaving her half naked, so exposed to him. Feyd, licking his lips, pushes two fingers inside her aching core and she involuntarily arches her lower body part nearer to him, moaning loudly. In a matter of seconds, she finds herself pinned to the bed by Feyd's heavy body. He wildly kisses her again, wanting to savour her delicious taste and warmth, deepening the kiss as much as possible, harshly grabbing her hips, bare breasts, neck... Then slowly licks her hard nipples, going on to her whole sweaty and swollen breasts, up from cleavage to the neck. He stopped when his, now reddish lips, touched her already oversensitive ear, so she could feel uncontrolable desire of both of them. Harsh but soft voice that made her tremble: "Look at me when I fuck you." And there he is. With one swift motion, he is fully inside her. She gasps from pain at first, his huge, thick shaft stretching walls of her tight pussy. He looks fiercely, grins and licks his lips, eyes heavy and pupils so enlarged. She could feel the pain turns to a pleasure, very fast. Feyd Rautha's cock is inside her?? That disbilief strucks her like a lightning of pleasure, so she could feel her orgasm nearing. Feyd feels that... Her clenching around his cock, as he pumps harder in and out. Her legs are around him to try to dumpen that hard fucking. He feels he is about to cum together with her. He feels connected to her. Abruptly, he gives her a couple of hard deep thursts, his voice harsh of desire: "Margot, you are not using any witchery on me now?" - "I wouldn't dare, My Lord" - "Gooood... I like you so tamed...", his voice softens as he puts her one leg to his shoulder to intensify the feel even more.

The atmosphere in the room is absolutely magical. Seems like the time is slowed down. Sweet and thick air surrounds their wet bodies. The room echoes from loud lustful moans and sexiest growling ever, his lower body clashes onto her juicy buttocks... Her body movements are now completely out of control. She rubbs her clit on him wildly, eyes blackened and full of tears, barely can maintain eye contact with him. As her climax approaches again, he stops. Then again, he thursts into her core deeply. With each thurst, he whispers: "Say... my name" - "Feyd Rautha..." His eyes widen, a victorious smile on his full lips. "You like it when I fuck you", he stated nonchalantly. "What is on your mind, doll? Tell me." She manages to speak through moans: "Please Feyd Rautha, please don't stop!" Finally! She admits to herself that she just adores him like this, like uncontrolable horny beast with some gentle moments and lustful face expressions. Feyd, unable to control himself anymore, start to fuck her brutally hard. Her arms caress his stone-like muscles, then squeeze her breasts, fingers run through her hair. Her aching core and inner part of thighs start to burn. Feyd lets her cum. Her orgasm was strongest ever, she moans loudly and iregularly, almost like a wild animal. Feyd clenches his jaws and stares to Margot's face insanely. With one final thurst, his pulsating shaft sprouts it's ever so warm seed inside her dipping wet pussy. His dick still big inside her, he collapses on top of her, not yet pulling out. "You are mine now, Margot. You are my lover from now on, and shall have no other lovers. Visit me at least once a week", he ordered, breathing heavily. "Yes, Feyd Rautha...", she spoke before even thinking. Than she closes her eyes, saying in her mind "This will be challenging, but I need him to be controlled like this... And damn, I love it!" Feyd has just realized he was already totally into her. He lazily turns to her side, his possessive hand wraps around her soft waist. He just had the most strong woman he met under his control and she was more than willing... Still feeling sweetness and excitement of their hot encounter, Feyd takes Margot's lips into his own once more. "Rest now, my lover". Her wandering thoughts alowly fade, weaker than heaviness of her eyelids, and she falls asleep in his embrace.

#sexy #feyd rautha #dune part two #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune 2 #literal smut #explict #margot fenring #feyd x margot #bene gesserit

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bleach-your-panties · 1 year ago

Text

💔the financial abuser - kingpin!touya todoroki x black! wife!reader

warnings: modern au/no quirks, drug family business, mention of past child abuse (y'all know the story), family illness (not touya or y/n), oral (m! receiving), car sex, pre-marital sex, dacryphilia, degradation, breeding kink, size kink, pregnancy, coercion, controlling/obsessive behavior, stalking, angry outbursts, choking (not in a sexual context), drug use, gaslighting, manipulation, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, mental illness, serious injury/hospitalization. read at your own risk!

☠️: some dialogue/actions inspired by true events.

💔: banner images from pinterest

💔: banner made by me with canva

💔post themes: ain't about the money - t.i. ft. young thug

soldier - destiny's child

throat baby (remix) -

brs kash ft. city girls

baby by me - 50 cent ft. neyo

whatever you like - t.i.

what you know - t.i.

superman - eminem

papers - usher

roses - outkast

gold digger - kanye west

💔9.7k words!

💔read in dark mode for best experience!

🖤yo. 🖤series. 🖤iida.

—-

----

If you ain’t no punk, holler,

“We want prenup!”

Yeah, that’s something that you need to have

‘Cause when she leave yo ass

She gone leave with half

___

You met your husband, Touya, at a hair salon in your neighborhood.

In the "hood", so to speak. You grew up in an impoverished neighborhood in one of the roughest cities to live in in the nation, with an 80% black population and a violent crime rate 95% higher than the national average.

Although it was dangerous as hell, the living conditions were less than desirable, and you were constantly surrounded by sketchy people, this was your home.

You'd grown up in this city and attended school here from elementary through university. Now at age 26, you're a successful chemical engineer, working as a consultant for the city's power plant.

Your parents are both deceased unfortunately; your father died in your childhood and your mother passed away after a long battle with breast cancer just after your senior year of university, so as far as family went, you only had your dear aunt, who was getting up in age.

She's your father's sister, having supported you throughout most of your academic life by helping you get back and forth to campus, attending all necessary parental conferences when your mother was too sick to, and finally, attending all of your graduation ceremonies. You are extremely thankful for her.

Present day, all you do is work, pretty much.

With your work, you usually have to keep your hair pulled back in a tight bun and covered with a protective hair cap. It was always a relief to be able to get your hair done and have your stylist rub her long, acrylic nails against your scalp while she lathered your natural tresses with sweet-smelling shampoo.

The soft ding of the bell hanging over the door alerted you to a newcomer's presence while you sat underneath the dryer reading one of the old Jet magazines that every salon always seemed to keep on hand.

"Good afternoon, ladies."

You looked up from your magazine and your dark brown eyes fell upon the most handsome man you had ever seen.

Tall, muscular frame, skin the color of freshly churned milk and hulking arms a collage of black ink. He was no shorter than 6'5'' at the least. You could tell by the way that he had to duck under the door frame to come inside the shop.

"Heyyy, Touya~" Your eyes moved around, pupils enlarging as you realized that every other woman in the shop had stopped whatever they were doing to greet this man.

Just who is this guy?

He walked further inside the small salon, his small, narrowed, turquoise eyes roaming over each and every feminine face before stopping at yours.

Oh no, he's walking over here!

Your face began to heat up; you hated being put on the spot and this man was just too gorgeous, you might faint!

He smirked at you and dug his big hands into the pockets of his black joggers.

"What's up, pretty? I think I would remember seeing a face as gorgeous as yours around here. What's your name?"

Your stylist came over then, smacking her lips at Touya and motioning for you to come over to her chair.

"Leave her alone, Touya. She wants nothing to do with the likes of you. She's a good girl, she's not interested in thugs."

That made your blush worsen and you lowered your head to the tiled floor, hoping that he'd just move on and bother one of the other women.

Touya laughed loudly. He brought his arms up to rest behind his hair, which you now noticed to be a brilliant white, just like freshly fallen snow.

His big biceps bulged and you could see that they were also covered in tattoos. He even had them all along his neck, trailing upwards to just under his chiseled jawline and then downwards, disappearing into his white V-neck.

"How do you know what she likes, Tisha? And I'm not a thug, I'm a well-respected businessman, I'll have you know."

The entire shop cracked up at that, making your anxiety lessen just as you looked up to further examine this man.

Unfortunately, he caught you looking and bit his lip at you. Usually, the gesture would've made you cringe, but it was different when he did it. It was sexy.

His lips were a little plump and when he bit them, you could see two glints of silver: a tongue stud and a lip stud.

"Y/n is my name." You said simply.

He smiled this time and squatted down so you didn't have to crane your neck to look at his face.

"Y/n, huh? Pretty name for a pretty girl."

You almost wanted to roll your eyes, but instead, you smiled.

"Thank you….Touya…"

He nodded slightly. More glints of silver when he made the gesture; he also had his right eyebrow pierced, three stud piercings in his nostril, and multiple silver hoops in each ear.

“God had no business making this man this damn fine.”

A deep chuckle broke you out of your thought process.

"Well, I appreciate that, beautiful. Tisha, don't charge her anything for her hair. I'll pay for it."

Aw, shit, did I say that out loud?! Nice going, Y/n!

"What? No! You don't have to do that, I can pay for myself!" You huffed. You knew this game all too well.

If he paid for your hair, he'd feel like you owed him something. Not a chance.

"Oh, girl hush and let that man pay for you. Keep that $750 in your pocket, shit." Tisha chuckled as she began to install your wig.

Touya handed her the money out of his wallet while grinning. He held his hands up, palms facing you in a gesture of surrender.

“I promise I don’t want anything in return, but maybe you wouldn’t mind grabbing breakfast with me one day? I know this great spot right down the street from the salon.”

You scoffed, now finally rolling your eyes at him.

“That’s still wanting something, pretty boy, even if it’s only a meal.”

Touya shrugged. “So that’s a no, then? Too bad. I won’t keep bothering you, though. See ya around, pretty girl.” He teased with a smug look on his face before turning and walking back out the door of the salon.

A few hours later, Tisha was done with your hair. She handed you a mirror so you could look at yourself.

“Thanks, Tish, it looks amazing!” You dug in your purse for your wallet so you could give her a tip, but she stopped you.

“Girl, what are you doing? Touya already paid me.” Eyebrows scrunched, you pushed the $20 bill into her hand anyway and got up out of the chair before she could protest.

“Just take it. Maybe next time I come I can get a discount on my lash installment.”

“Girl, you crazy! Get on out of here!”

You left the shop smiling to yourself. The bell tinkled over your head as you walked out into the bright sunlight.

Your smile immediately dropped when you walked over to your car and noticed that you had a flat tire.

“Oh no, what the hell?! When did that get there? Aw, man…”

The offending item that had punctured your tire was a long, rusty nail sticking out the side of it.

“Dammit, now I’m going to have to call a tow truck.” You sighed and pulled your iPhone out of your purse.

“Need some help, pretty?”

It was Touya - he’s still been here all this time?

He casually leaned up against a smoke-gray Range Rover with black rims. The brake calipers had been spray-painted a deep purple.

“Oh, Touya. There’s a nail in my tire, but it’s fine, I can just call-”

“I can wait with you for the tow truck and then take you home.” He offered. Getting up off the truck, he stalked his way over, taking long strides. In a second, he was standing right next to you, so close that you could smell his expensive cologne.

You didn’t know how to react, just kind of looking up at him with a stuck expression on your face.

“Uh, you really don’t have to…I could just call someone..”

“Why do that when I’m standing right here?”

A perfectly arched eyebrow raised. “Because I don’t know you? You could be a serial killer.”

You know now that he’s most likely a drug dealer, like that was any better…but yeah.

Touya just laughed at you and shook his head.

“Not gonna make it easy for me, huh? I like that. Keep it up, baby doll. I’ll get you sooner or later.” He walked back over to his truck and opened the driver-side door.

“At least come sit and chat with me until the tow truck comes?” You couldn’t continue to resist him, no matter how much you wanted to. Especially when he looked at you with those turquoise eyes.

—-

And that’s how your whirlwind romance began.

—-

Now I ain’t saying she a gold digger

But she ain’t messing with no broke niggas

Now I ain’t saying she a gold digger

But she ain’t messing with no broke niggas

Cutie the bomb, met her at a beauty salon

With a baby Louis Vuitton under her arm

She said, “I can tell you rock, I can tell by your charm

Far as girls you got a flock

I can tell by your charm and your arm”

But I’m lookin’ for the one, have you seen her?

—-

After that day, you and Touya began somewhat of a friendship.

Whenever you came to get your hair done, he’d somehow always be there and he’d always pay for your hair, nails, and lashes. Turns out that he owned the beauty salon, the diner that he offered to take you out to, and pretty much everything else on that strip.

One day after you got off of work, you were surprised to see his truck out in the parking lot.

He was waiting for you.

“Touya! Funny meeting you here, what’s up?” You put your hands on your hips.

“I want to take you on a date tonight.”

Your eyes bulged slightly, probably making you look like a fool, but Touya didn’t waver in his proposition.

"What do you say, pretty? Go out with me?"

You began weighing all the positives and negatives of going on a date with him. He could have a gaggle of jealous exes just waiting to catch him with another woman and raise hell, or one of his opps that was waiting to catch him slipping so they could blow his head off.

Tough decision, but eventually you folded and agreed.

—-

After your first date, you saw Touya more and more, seemingly everywhere you went.

The grocery store, the mall, restaurants. You even saw him across the street from your dentist's office one day while leaving an appointment.

Despite all of these seemingly random pop-ups, you found yourself undeniably attracted to Touya, which may have clouded your judgment just a tad.

So over the next several weeks, Touya would continue to show up at your job and surprise you with flowers, food from his diner, and lavish gifts.

This is how you would end up kneeling underneath the dashboard in Touya's Range in the parking lot of the industrial plant, hours after your shift had ended.

His black sweatpants were pulled down his thick, muscled thighs and pooled around his ankles while you struggled to take his huge cock into your mouth.

He regarded you with those cool, turquoise eyes, one large hand planted firmly on the top of your head as he guided you up and down on his hard shaft.

"Just like that, pretty. Such a perfect, slutty mouth. Yeah, you like being slutted out outside of your job? Not the perfect, innocent little scholar right now, are you?"

You hummed around his dick, saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth while you breathed steadily through your nose.

Touya's degradation never failed to turn you on, but sometimes you felt like he was just being mean intentionally.

His hands pressed down on your head harder, forcing you to take him further down your aching throat. Once he started, Touya wouldn't let up until he fucked your throat raw and tears streamed down your beautiful face, ruining your expensive makeup.

He loved to see you cry.

"There you go, baby. That's my good girl. Take my cock like only you can."

You moaned around him as best you could, but your jaw was aching and you felt like you'd pass out from lack of oxygen any moment now.

Suddenly, you were being pulled off of him by the roots of your hair. Touya dragged you over the center console into the backseat with you sputtering and trying to catch your breath.

"Down." He ordered and you immediately obeyed, getting on your hands and knees.

He clambered over you clumsily, his height preventing him from being able to get into the exact position that he wanted, but this would have to do.

"Arch."

Tattooed hands came down to hold your lower hips as soon as you arched your back.

You were already wet from sucking him off, but due to the sheer size of Touya's dick, it wouldn't be enough.

Hiking one foot up, he removed one hand to guide his dick into your hole. You immediately felt the burn.

"TOUYA! It's too much…" You moaned with your head turned slightly to the side to look over your shoulder at him.

"Not too much, baby. Never too much for you, my sweet girl. Take me, baby. Take my big fucking dick in your tiny little hole. I know you can do it."

Your freshly done acrylics scraped against the car door while Touya grabbed your expensive bundles up in one hand and forced your head completely flat on the floor with the other.

His pace was hard and rough, but he knew you were loving everything that he was giving you judging by your moans.

"Shit, pussy's so good baby, sucking me in so nice…fuuuccck!"

Of all of the women that he's fucked, you were the only one that had been able to take all of him without passing out.

It was a shock to you as well, how you hadn't passed out already from Touya's deep stroking. No doubt his fat tip was hitting your cervix; you could feel him in your damn stomach.

"Touya, I'm going to cum!" Your words were muffled, but he could just make out what you were trying to say and feel you clenching around him.

His eyes watched your ass move in waves as he pounded into you with everything he had, no doubt making the entire car shake from the sheer force of his thrusts.

“Come on, cum on this dick, baby. Make a mess on me, baby doll,” He cooed softly, leaning over you to press you against the floor as he rolled his hips into you.

"TOUYA!"

"Yes, scream my name, girl! SHIT!"

—-

The next thing you knew, you were waking up in the front of a large mansion with a high, wrought-iron gate around it. It was surrounded by acres of land, all to itself off in the countryside. A soft, fleece blanket covered your naked body.

"Where are we? Is this your house?"

"Fucked you so good you lost your memory, baby, but yes, this is my house."

"Why'd you bring me here?"

"Why wouldn't I? Why, you'd rather me fuck your brains out and just leave you passed out, only to wake up alone in a fucking parking lot in the dark? Come on, Y/n." You could see him roll his eyes through the rearview mirror.

Remaining silent, you just hugged the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

"So where do we go from here, Touya? What's next for us?"

He hit a button and the doors unlocked. Touya came around to open your door and then scooped you up into his strong arms, holding you close to his chest.

"I brought you here in hopes that you'd agree to be my girlfriend."

"What if I say no?"

"Then I have to kill you."

"WHAT!?"

"I'm just playing, girl. Damn. So will you? Will you be my baby?"

—-

Touya and you began dating that night, and not even six months later, he asked you to marry him.

And you said yes.

Now, you believed that you were in love with Touya. He treated you like a princess and showered you with expensive gifts: jewelry, cars, designer clothes, shoes, and bags. Whatever your heart desired. Not to mention he was sweet, attentive, caring, loving, and amazing in bed.

Little did you know that Touya had another side to him.

—-

Stacks on deck, patron on ice

And we could pop bottles all night, and,

Baby, you could have whatever you like

I said you could have whatever you like, yeah

Late-night sex, so wet, it's so tight

I gas up the jet for you tonight

And baby you can go wherever you like

I said you can go wherever you like, yeah

—-

While you were planning your wedding, many of your friends and family members came to you with concerns about your fiance. Including your beloved aunt.

“That boy is no good, Y/n. I’m telling you. Just look into those cold, soulless eyes of his. That boy is not right in the head.” She would rant as you sat on her living room couch with wedding books opened up all around you.

"Please, Auntie. Touya is a good guy. Sure, he's in the streets, but he'd never hurt me."

"You don't sound too sure of yourself."

Rolling your eyes, you had heard enough of the negativity.

Gathering up the books and magazines, you threw them into your new Louis Vuitton tote bag and pulled it onto your shoulder.

"I have to go, Auntie, or I'll be late for my dress fitting. I love you." You leaned down to give her a hug and kiss on the jaw.

"I love you, too, baby. Just please think about what I've been saying before you rush into this marriage, alright?"

"Alright, I hear you. I'm gone."

You stepped out of her house and closed the screen door behind you. Your black BMW M3 with the custom purple wheels sat pretty in the driveway. Touya had it custom-painted for you, said that everyone needs to know that you're his woman.

As you were backing out of the driveway, you heard your phone vibrating in your bag.

🖤🫶🏾Husband💜 would like to FaceTime…

You declined the request and hooked your phone up to the car mount, immediately calling him back on the phone.

"What the fuck, Y/n? Why are you declining my calls? Where the hell are you at? I've been calling you all damn day!" He barked through the receiver, making you cringe.

"I-I just got in the car, I'm leaving Auntie's house, on the way home now…"

You could almost hear him rolling his eyes on the other end.

"Yeah, and what did she want now? Still bitching about you marrying me?" He scoffed.

"Touya, stop that. She's only concerned about me, that's all."

"Yeah, whatever you say, Y/n. I know that your whole fucking family despises me, not that I give a fuck, though. I'm marrying you, not any of them."

"That's true, Touya, but it would be better if you at least tried to get along with them."

"Well, maybe they should stop judging a book by its cover and try to get along with me since I'm about to be your husband."

"I don't think that's how it works, but okay, Touya. I'll be pulling up in a little bit."

"Are you trying to rush me off the phone? I called because I want to see you before I leave tonight. Gotta fly to Tijuana for business."

Of course, 'for business' meant, to pick up a "shipment".

—-

Ayy, don't you know I got kis by the three

When I chirp, shawty chirp back

Louie knapsack where I'm holding all the work at

What you know about that?

I know all about that

—-

"And by 'see me', you mean get your dick wet. I have wedding stuff to do, baby. I have to fly to Paris to pick up my dress and how am I supposed to do that if you're taking the jet?" You complained.

"Just send your assistant to get it. I need you here to take care of me, baby doll, just like how I take care of you. Come on, now."

You wanted to retort that you needed to be there to try it on, but there was no arguing with Touya, especially when he wanted sex.

"Okay, I'm almost there. Tell the guards to open the gate."

—-

"Ohh shit, Touya, baby, give me that dick~"

"Yeah baby, you like that?"

And that's how the two of you went along for the rest of the night, Touya putting you in all different types of positions, beating your shit in.

He was always rough, pulling your hair and smacking your ass until it was raw and red.

He made sure to leave marks all over your neck and titties as well, marring your brown skin so that whenever any man looked at you, they'd KNOW that you were getting dicked down by a real motherfucking king.

"God Y/n, how do you keep this shit so tight? I'm gonna bust my load in you, fuck around, and get you pregnant tonight, girl."

"Mmm, if we don't stop now you're going to miss your flight."

"Fuck it," He chuckled, "I'll call Shoto to handle it."

Shoto, his younger brother who'd just finished college a semester ago. Touya had taken him underneath his wing to train him to be next in line for the family business.

His other siblings, Natsuo and Fuyumi, wanted nothing to do with this life and just worked everyday blue-collar jobs.

"Here, get on top of me. Ride this dick while I make the call."

You sighed but complied nonetheless and crawled up onto his lap as he reclined against the head of your shared California king bed.

"Hello?" You heard Shoto's bland, emotionless voice come over the receiver.

"Hey Sho, I need you to go handle that for me. Jet's already loaded and ready to go."

"What? Why can't you do it?"

"Because I told you to do it and I'm the boss."

"Yeah whatever, you're probably too busy fucking. Hey Y/n." He snickered, causing your cheeks to heat up. He knew his older brother too well.

Touya hung up on him and tossed the phone to the side, grabbing your hips and slamming you down onto his thick cock.

"You gonna let me get you pregnant, huh, baby? Gonna let me breed this little cunt, stuff you nice and full, and make you fat with my seed?"

You weren't quite sure that you were ready to have a child, but you were starting to get up in age and you and Touya are getting married, so what's the harm? You nodded.

"Yes, Touya. I love you. Make me a mommy."

—-

Have a baby by me, baby, be a millionaire

Be a millionaire, be a millionaire, b-be a millionaire

I don't play no games (I don't play no games)

So when I'm in that thang (when I'm in that thang)

Come see what I mean (see what I mean)

See what I mean, see what I mean, oh

I said lil mama put me on (baby, put me on)

Bet I'll have you gone (bet I'll have you gone)

Come see what I mean, see what I mean

See what I mean (see what I mean)

New music, new mood, new position

New erotic sounds, it's going down, now listen

I can hear your heartbeat, you're sweating

I could paint a perfect picture

I get deeper and deeper, I told ya I'd get ya

I'd work that murk that, just the way you like it, baby

Turn a quickie into an all-nighter maybe

Yo, I need you to be what I need, more than liquor and weed

I need you to maybe give me a seed

I need you to give me reason to breathe

I need you

—-

Time Skip, Wedding Day

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" Fuyumi asked you while she was putting your veil in your hair.

You only giggled softly, rubbing a hand over your small baby bump.

"I think it's a little too late to back out now, Fuyumi." She shook her head, making her white and red curls bounce.

"It's never too late to change your mind. You're not his wife, yet. Y/n, I love my brother with all of my heart, but honestly, you deserve so much better than him."

It was hurtful to hear, but you weren't shocked by the young woman's words.

Natsuo and Fuyumi were like your family; they also didn't think that you should marry Touya.

"I'm pregnant with his child, Fuyu, and I don't want to be a single mother. I love Touya with all my heart as well, and whatever he went through in the past, we can get through it together. I'll be there for him, til death do us part."

Fuyumi just let out a long sigh and tried to put on a smile.

"I can't say I didn't try, but okay. If this is what will really make you happy. Just please take care of yourself and the baby, no matter what. Protect yourself."

She handed you your bouquet just as the wedding music began playing.

"I'll see you at the altar."

She left, leaving you alone. You peeked out the door and saw the flower girls and ring bearers go down the aisle.

Taking a deep breath, you exhaled and tightened your hands around your flowers.

"Hey, beautiful."

Your head whipped around so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash.

It was Touya, standing there in his all-white suit with a purple silk dress shirt opened up to show off his tattooed chest.

"Touya!? What are you doing here, you're supposed to be at the altar!"

"Hmm, the wedding can't start without us, baby. I just wanted to give you something really quick."

He reached into the breast pocket of the suit jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and a pen.

You watched him carefully.

"What is this?"

"A prenup."

"A what? Touya, I'm not signing a prenup minutes before our wedding! Why are you just bringing this to me now?"

He furrowed his white eyebrows, not liking the tone you were taking with him.

"I'm sorry, but who do you think you're talking to, Y/n? You should know not to ever raise your voice at me. Not even my own mother yells at me, baby doll, and you're damn sure not about to start. Now sign the goddamn prenup or I'm calling all this shit off."

No way! He wouldn't actually call the wedding off, would he? Not after all of your hard work, not after everything you'd been through in the past couple of months.

Your dear aunt had been diagnosed with coronary artery disease a few months ago and hadn't been doing too well. She'd been in and out of the hospital frequently and even had to leave her job because of it.

You begged Touya to hire an in-home nurse to care for her and, after much disagreement, he finally let you.

Why would he do this to you now? Moments before your special day?

With your lower lip wobbling and tears beginning to spill out of your eyes, you took the paper with a shaky hand and signed your signature on the line, initialing where it directed you to.

Touya chuckled darkly once you were done and took it back from you, stuffing it into his pocket.

Why would he make you sign a prenup? You didn't know much about this type of stuff, but usually, prenups weren't good.

However, you couldn't fathom losing Touya or your fairytale life. You were finally getting everything that you ever wanted.

A family.

"Hey, don't cry, baby doll. You know I'll always take care of you, right?"

He moved in to kiss you, his hand covering your bump and rubbing it softly. With his pinky, he swiped the tears from under your eyes, careful not to smudge your face makeup.

You nodded slowly and he smiled at you.

"I love you, Y/n."

With that, he left the room.

—

Five Years Later

Being married to Touya was not at all how you expected it to be.

After quitting your job and becoming a full-time housewife, your life seemed to go into a downward spiral.

While you were dating, you’d found out that Touya and his siblings had grown up in an abusive household where his father beat him, his siblings, and their mother. His mother had had a hard time coping with what she'd been through, so the four siblings had agreed to have her committed to a mental health care facility.

During their childhood, in a fit of psychosis, their mother threw a pot of boiling water on Shoto, disfiguring the left side of his face. An ugly, red-marred patch of skin now covered the once-perfect porcelain.

After that incident, Touya left home and never looked back.

He talked very little about his father, so what you did know, you had to find out from Fuyumi, who still maintained limited contact with their father. Neither Natsuo nor Shoto talked about the man.

Many times, you had tried to persuade Touya to get therapy in order to deal with his past traumas, but he never listened. If anything, he would become completely enraged whenever you would broach the subject.

It also didn't help that Touya was now even more deeply involved in the drug lifestyle.

At first, it didn't bother you as much as it should have, but as time went on things just got worse and worse.

Your son, Takuya, was now five years old and you really didn't want him exposed to the people and dealings that Touya was involved in.

Takuya would ask you many questions:

Mommy, why is Daddy never home?

Who are these strange people in our house?

Why can't my friends come over to spend the night?

Why does Daddy have flour underneath his nose?

Yes.

Touya had been abusing cocaine ever since your third year of marriage.

He said that it helped ease his mind. Made him forget the past.

A knock came on his office door, causing the turquoise-eyed man to look up at it.

"What, Y/n?" He asked in irritation once he looked up and saw you standing there, just staring at him.

"Are you seriously getting high in the middle of the day?"

Spread out over his desktop were multiple, identical lines of freshly chopped cocaine. With a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill, Touya closed off one of his nostrils while he used the bill to snort the white powder into the other.

He did it effortlessly, almost elegantly.

"Touya, really? What if Takuya ever walked in and saw you doing this shit? You know he's getting older now, and he's started asking me questions about your…habit."

Touya didn’t seem deterred; better yet, he most likely hadn’t heard a word that you’d said as he focused on the feeling of the drug entering his system.

“Did you fucking need something, Y/n? If not, then kindly get the fuck out. I’m busy.”

You gave him an incredulous look but bit your tongue and nodded.

“I need you to sign the check for Takuya’s school tuition so I can mail it off today.”

Touya sucked his teeth and sniffled. With the back of his tattooed hand, he wiped his nose roughly.

“Of course, that’s what you always need. Money. “

With a soft sigh, you prepared yourself for one of his rants. On top of abusing drugs, Touya had been diagnosed with, post-traumatic stress disorder, dissociative identity disorder, and bipolar disorder.

You’d seen him dissociate firsthand, especially when he was high. You figured that the alternate personality that he’d created stemmed from his traumatic childhood. This persona’s name was Dabi, and Dabi was not nice by any means. He was awful, much worse than normal, agitated Touya.

If it wasn’t for you insisting on having genetic testing done while you were pregnant, you’d have never found out what mental ailments your husband had been suffering from.

“Well…if you hadn’t taken my name off of all the accounts, I could have done it myself and not have to disturb you while you’re taking care of business.” You finally snipped. You’d had enough of Touya’s drug abuse, verbal abuse, and emotional abuse.

You had gotten sick of him always taunting you, downplaying you, and making you feel as if you were less of a person because you had left your job, your family, and everything that you knew, in order to cling to him and become his wife.

He made you feel low, lower than the earth beneath your feet, and you had had enough of him.

To pour even more salt into your stinking, infected wounds, Touya treated you like a child.

You had an allowance, you had to call and check in with him anytime you left the house, and he didn’t let you go anywhere without him or one of his guards.

It hadn’t always been like this. No, this behavior only began once you attempted to leave him the first time.

You’d tried to leave Touya many times over the past five years, but your efforts were always in vain. No matter what you did or where you tried to go, he would always find you and bring you back, literally kicking and screaming. After a while, you just decided to give up, telling yourself that you’d never be able to get away from him.

—-

Mmmm

You high, baby? (Yeah)

Yeah? (Hahaha, talk to me)

You want me to tell you something? (Uh huh)

I know what you want to hear

—-

The veins in his neck bulged and he turned on you, turquoise eyes flashing with lightning.

“Did you just talk back to me?”

The blood froze in your veins as Touya stood up, calmly pushing his desk chair back. The wheels screeched eerily across the wooden floor. Touya stomped towards you like a panther, waiting to attack and kill its prey.

“T-Touya- I…”

One hand was all it took to constrict your breathing. Touya held you up like a doll, the muscles in his arm barely flexing as he slammed you against the wooden double doors of the office entrance, making them rattle violently. Your little legs thrashed as you moved your body, attempting to get Touya off of you, to no avail.

“Bitch, how dare you disrespect me, after all I’ve done for you. I took you out of that shitty neighborhood you were living in, took care of you and that fucking brat, took care of your whole fucking family despite them cursing the very ground that I walk on. This is how you repay me? Flapping your fucking lips at me? HUH?!?!”

He yelled directly in your face, making you squint your eyes as spit flew from his lips. His face was so close to yours that you could see up his nostrils, see the white residue from the hit he’d just taken.

If he didn’t let you down soon, you’d pass out. Touya soon realized this, and he let you go, let your body drop to the ground with a ‘thud’ while he stepped back and regarded you without a smidgen of concern.

Your hands flew to your throat as you coughed violently. Your chest burned as you tried to regain the precious oxygen that your lungs had been deprived of for far too long.

—-

You know you want me, baby

You know I want you, too

They call me Superman

I'm here to rescue you

I wanna save you, girl

Come be in Shady's world

(Ooo, boy, you drive me crazy)

Bitch, you make me hurl

—-

"You act like…," you wheezed, then halted to take in a few more deep breaths, "you act like I wasn't somebody before I met you. Like I wasn't on my own, living independently and happily before you came along and messed it all up!"

He must have found your lamentation amusing, because he chuckled, deep in his chest.

"Oh Y/n…when have you ever been independent? Your whole life you've always depended on someone. Your aunt, your family, your friends, and then me. You think you're so special, because what, you went to school and got a degree?"

Said degree was displayed on the back wall of his office. He'd let you hang it there after buying an expensive, mahogany wooden frame lined in real 24k gold for it. A gift for your first year wedding anniversary.

Now the object seemed to offend Touya. He made a beeline for it and snatched it off the back wall before sending it hurling across the room, narrowly missing you before it went crashing against the wall next to the door and shattering.

You whimpered in fear as he began walking back over to you.

Kneeling down so that he was eye-level with you, much like he'd done at your first meeting in the salon, he glared at you with eyes colder than Antarctica.

"How's that degree working for you now, Y/n? You're nothing more than a stupid slut willing to open her legs for the first man that showed her any shred of attention. You're pathetic, and I can't stand the fucking sight of you." He said lowly, the baritone of his voice rumbling in your ears.

You buried your head in your hands, the tears flowing freely down your firearms as you tried to shield yourself from him, from his rage. His hatred.

It wasn't like Touya had never yelled at you before or threw fits when he was high, but this was the first time in five years that he'd ever put his hands on you.

And it would be the last.

"That's it, Touya! I've had enough! You're impossible and I'm finished dealing with you and your issues. I'm leaving for good this time."

Touya laughed at you again. He just kept laughing for a long time.

"That's really funny. Have fun trying to leave me with no money and nowhere to go. You'll be back. You always come back, Y/n, because you can't survive without me."

Your tear-soaked face curled up in disgust; you couldn't believe what this man was saying to you right now.

"Since you're so adamant on leaving though, you can go ahead and get the fuck out."

"Pardon?"

He stood to full height again.

"Did I stutter? Get the fuck out of my house, right now, Y/n."

"No! We're married, which makes this my house, too! You can't just put me out!"

He must have thought that you still weren't getting enough oxygen to your brain, because Touya grabbed you by the arms and hoisted you up.

You kicked, screamed, and clawed at him all the way, almost causing him to drop you a few times, but finally he made it to the large ornate doors leading to the outside of the estate.

"NO! TOUYA, NO! NO!"

—-

They call me Superman

Leap tall hoes in a single bound

I'm single now

Got no ring on this finger now

I'll never let another chick bring me down

In a relationship? Save it, bitch

Babysit? You make me sick

Superman ain't saving shit

Girl, you can jump on Shady's dick

—-

Thank goodness Takuya was at school and not here to witness the scene of his father throwing his mother out of her own house.

"I hate you, Touya! You hear me?! I HATE YOU! You won't get away with this!"

Was the last thing the snow-haired man heard before he slammed the door in your face. You heard all of the locks and the deadbolt click.

With fury, you kicked at the closed door with all your might.

You were kicked out now, with nothing. Not your purse, wallet, clothes, phone, or anything. Only your Apple watch on your wrist, which you guessed might be a bit of help.

Looking down at it, you noticed that it was charged to 75%, which was good. You'd have time to get to a charger.

With an indignant huff, you rushed down the many stairs leading from the house and into the driveway where your car was parked.

It would be a dumb idea to get in and try to drive it, because Touya more likely than not had a tracker installed into it. However, you had an idea.

—-

Don't put out, I'll put you out

Won't get out, I'll push you out

Puss blew out, popping shit

Wouldn't piss on fire to put you out

—-

See, though you had been quite gullible the past five years, believing that your sham of a marriage was pure and true, and that your bastard of a husband was your Prince Charming, you were still a college-educated woman and had plenty of good sense to use.

When Touya started getting high every other day, you began stealing his money and putting it away when he wasn't looking.

Small amounts here and there that you passed off with simple excuses that Touya found to be believable. No way his dumb little housewife would ever think to steal from him.

How wrong he was.

You had accumulated a good amount over the last three years, but when you first tried to leave Touya, he became suspicious of you, thus limiting your access to the money by taking your name off the accounts and giving you a weekly allowance.

How stupid of him.

You took a portion of that money and stored it away every month, in case you ever needed it. In case you finally got the courage to leave Touya and never look back.

The day had finally come.

Pulling up to your sister-in-law's house, you waited for her to come to the door. Looking down at your Gucci slides, you felt embarrassed about the situation that had just occurred.

"Y/n! What are you doing here? What's happened?"

With the look on your face, she immediately knew that something terrible had happened and that her elder brother was more than likely the cause of it.

She moved aside so you could come inside. You sat on her couch and put your hands in your lap.

After swallowing down the lump in your throat, you began to speak.

"Touya…he, um, he locked me out of the house."

"HE WHAT?!"

You had to cover your ears slightly from the sheer volume of her exasperated voice.

"Yeah. We got into an argument and he tossed me out onto my ass like Jazz from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air."

Fuyumi didn't laugh at your joke; instead, she gave you a look of sympathy.

"Y/n…I'm sorry you had to go through that…" Her voice began to crack and you gave her a questioning gaze.

"Was he…?" She couldn't even finish the question.

You immediately understood and nodded.

"Yes. He was high."

"And where was Takuya?"

"He's at school."

A sigh of relief from the white-haired woman. "Thank the heavens."

Fuyumi moved from her spot on the opposite couch to come over and give you a tight hug. You sank into her warm embrace and hugged her back, more tears bubbling up as feelings of shame, stupidity, and anger came to the surface.

"It's okay, Y/n. It's all going to be okay. I feel like this is my fault. I should have tried harder to get you to leave Touya. I should have-"

You stopped her from talking by pulling away from the hug and giving her a small glare.

"Don't you dare try to blame yourself for his actions. He's a grown ass man, yet he acts like a child. Don't worry, Fuyumi. This time I'm done with him for good. It's time for me to move along in my life with my child and leave Touya's miserable ass behind. I tried everything to help him and all he did was treat me like shit for five years."

Fuyumi was a bit stunned to hear you speak with so much initiative, but she nodded, nonetheless.

"If you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to call me or Natsu. We want what's best for you and Takuya. Always."

—-

After talking with Fuyumi for a little while longer, she ended up calling Natsuo over, who works as a mechanic.

With a little trial and error, he managed to remove the tracker from your car. Touya had hidden it meticulously, but he was no match for Natsuo's years of experience with machinery.

You finally bid your brother-in-law and sister-in-law goodbye so you could go and speak to your lawyer before picking up Takuya from school.

—-

I can't get to work on time

Can't believe the words to him I just said

Who the hell argue and fight

Like dogs at six in the morning?

I know it's gonna be some more shit tonight (oooh)

Our pastor's calling, telling me I done went too far,

And I'm sitting round town and my friends can't recognize me

Cause I took a chance on love

It's like, I'm dying (ooo dying)

For you, I gave my heart

And turned my back against the world

Because I was your girl, girl, girl

I done damn near lost my mama

I done been through so much drama

I done turned into the woman I never thought I'd be

I'm ready to sign them papers, papers

—-

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Todoroki, but the prenup that you signed is very much valid. According to this, he really doesn't have to give you anything."

You blew out a frustrated breath. How could you have been such a fool? If Touya wanted to call the wedding off because you wouldn't sign, you should have just let him.

It would have saved you a world of heartache and headache, that's for sure.

"So, there's absolutely nothing that I can do?" You asked the well-dressed man in front of you.

You fiddled with the rose gold, 5-carat diamond aquamarine pear-shaped ring set on your left ring finger.

“What about our son? Did he say anything about providing for him?”

The brunette man pushed his glasses from the bridge of his nose up to his eyes.

“Despite his trying to implement a clause in which he wouldn’t have to pay child support since the child was conceived outside of the marriage, as the child’s biological father he’s still legally responsible for providing for Takuya. Though he could contest his paternity and ask for a DNA test.” He set the paper on the desk and looked at you.

“That slimy bastard…he did everything in his power to make sure that I’d never try to leave him. He’s sick….”

“Again, I’m very sorry, Mrs. Todoroki. I wish that there was more that I could tell you.”

“I just can’t believe this…Touya had all of this planned from the very start. He came to me in a moment where he knew I couldn’t refuse him. He knew that I needed to lean on him at that time and he took advantage of me.”

“What do you mean by 'took advantage of you'?” The man in front of you sat up straighter in his chair, slightly leaning his body towards you.

“Well, I never expected that Touya would ask me to sign a prenup. He never made it a priority to discuss how we’d do finances; he just always said that he’d take care of me. Which is why it was such a shock that he made me sign the prenup minutes before I was about to walk down the aisle to marry him.”

“He asked you to sign a prenup minutes before your wedding? He coerced you and didn’t even give you time to seek your own legal consultation. I’m glad you told me this, Mrs. Todoroki; this changes everything.”

Could this be it? Could this finally be your way out of this marriage?

“And that’s not all! I was pregnant with Takuya at the time and my hormones were all over the place. My aunt…she’d been very sick as well, and it was just an overall bad time for me. I w-wasn’t thinking straight…I-I just…I just wanted someone to be there for me. I didn’t want Touya to call off the wedding.”

You cursed yourself for crying over this again, but speaking about it out in the open really made you realize how badly Touya had manipulated you. From the very beginning of the relationship he tried to break you down and make you weak for him, and you let him. Your lawyer handed you some tissue from the box on the desk.

No more weakness. No more vulnerability. It was time to be strong; you had a child to raise and he needed his mother.

It was time to fight for what was rightfully owed to both of you.

“Coercion and signature under duress; oh, he’s done for. I’ll make some calls to get this in front of the judge as soon as possible. Don’t worry, Mrs. Todoroki, I’ll handle everything from here.”

—-

You left the law office with a massive weight lifted off of your heart.

Takuya's private school was only a few minutes away if you took the interstate, so, after picking him up, you'd probably just go back to Fuyumi's house for the night.

"God, I hate this bend in the road, it makes me feel like I'm going to fall off into a ditch." You grimaced while holding the steering wheel carefully.

When you were almost around the corner, a black SUV flew past you at top speed and caused your car to lose control and spin in circles several times before crashing into oncoming traffic.

—-

You had to have blacked out from the impact - were you dead?

No, your hearing was still intact. You could hear something in the distance: footsteps.

Your head was bent at an odd angle and you could feel the blood dripping down your forehead.

"Well, would you look at my little broken doll, all bent out of shape. It's a miracle you aren't dead, huh? That was a nasty accident you had."

With you not being able to turn your neck to the sound of his voice, Touya had to step into your line of sight. He looked down into your eyes, his own turquoise ones shining with mirth. They seemed darker, more sinister.

Then it dawned on you.

This wasn't Touya.

It was Dabi.

"W-w-what's wrong…with you…? You're…. you're insane…"

That was the final thing you said before slipping into unconsciousness.

—-

Dabi just watched your unmoving form with an evil grin plastered across his face. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one.

With his free hand, he reached out to stroke your face while his eyes glowed.

"I know you want, me baby. I think I want you, too. I'm here to save you, girl. Come be in Shady's world. I wanna grow together, let's let our love unfurl. You know you want me, baby. You know I want you, too. They call me Superman, I'm here to rescue you."

With a flick of his wrist, he threw the cigarette down and the entire car caught on fire.

—-

You want what you can't have

Ooo, girl, that's too damn bad

Don't touch what you can't grab

End up with two back hands

Girl you just blew your chance

Don't mean to ruin your plans

—-

911, what's your emergency?

"Yes, my wife has been in a terrible car accident! Her car caught on fire and she was trapped inside. I-I pulled her out, but she's unconscious and I think her neck might be broken!

Okay sir, I'm going to need you to get her to a safe location and wait for help to arrive. Avoid moving her anymore and try to keep her neck supported.

"O-okay."

—-

Three Months Later

You ended up with three severed vertebrae in your neck. The doctors still don't know how you didn't end up paralyzed or dead, but at this point it must have just been a miracle from God.

Touya brought you to the hospital under the guise of the distraught husband and no one seemed to suspect anything.

Except for Natsuo, Fuyumi, and your lawyers.

Your family was just grateful that you were alive and didn't think to question how the accident may have occurred, though Touya didn't get away completely scot-free.

Your lawyer was the number one accusatory figure when your divorce case went to court. He argued that Touya had been following you, tracking your phone, and was angry that you were finally filing for divorce from him.

That you were going to actually leave him this time.

Touya had an amazing defense lawyer that continued to play him up as the distraught husband; Touya knew what he was doing when he decided to stay at the scene of the accident and "help" you. Your other lawyers and Touya's went toe to toe in the courtroom for days.

—

Caroline, Caroline

See Caroline, all the guys would say

She's mighty fine, mighty fine

But mighty fine only got you somewhere half the time

And the other half either got you

Cussed out or coming up short

—-

The jury was at a deadlock.

It wasn't an easy fight. More days in the courtroom with you sitting there in a neck brace, your body bandaged beneath your clothes from the burns you sustained in the fire.

A miracle that you were even alive.

Finally, after two weeks of court, Touya was convicted of attempted murder.

His defense lawyer tried to go for an insanity plea which was supported by him staying at the accident scene and bringing you to the hospital afterwards.

The prosecutor argued that Touya, though aware of his mental illness, never sought the proper help and continued to mentally and emotionally torture and abuse his wife.

These claims were supported by Natsuo and Fuyumi, who both agreed to testify on your behalf since you couldn't speak up for yourself due to spousal privilege.

More deliberation, more waiting.

At last, there was a breakthrough.

The insanity plea fell through and Touya finally decided to just plead guilty.

—-

Regardless, we don't want to get involved with all them lawyers

And judges, just to hold grudges in the courtroom

I wanna see your support bra, not support you

—-

He was called to the witness stand, where he told all the grueling, gritty details of the past five years of your marriage. As much as he didn't want to let you go, he just couldn't bring himself to drag this battle out any farther. After hearing his testimony, the jury found him guilty and he was sentenced to fifteen years to life in prison.

So now, here you are, sitting in front of the man that you once loved with all of your heart.

Dressed in an orange jumpsuit, wrists and ankles shackled, Touya regarded you with a downtrodden expression.

"Y/n… I'm sorry for everything that I put you through. I just want you to know one thing: I'll always love you and my son."

With a dry chuckle, you shook your head.

"I don't think you know the meaning of the word love, Touya."

You pushed the divorce papers with your wedding rings situated on top of them towards him and nodded up at the guard standing behind him.

The elder man unlocked Touya's wrist cuffs so the inmate could sign his name where required. He didn't even read over it.

The shackles went back on immediately, and, with one last look, the guard escorted Touya out of the room and back to his cell.

—-

The sunshine was bright on your face as you walked out of the prison. A funny thought crossed your mind and caused you to giggle out loud.

For years, you'd felt like a prisoner under Touya's watchful gaze.

Oh how the tables have turned.

—-

I know you like to think your shit don't stank

But lean a little bit closer, see

Roses really smell like booo-booo-ooo

Yeah, roses really smell like booo-booo-ooo

—

a/n: i feel like i was starting to drag this out, so I just had to hurry up and end it 💀 i still think it came out pretty good though! i had to do a lot of research for the legal part and i still don't think it's all correct, but oh well! i ain't no damn lawyer/judge!😂

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rinsvg · 1 year ago

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✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩— Tease, Armin Arlert

content & warnings: female reader, she/her pronouns, face seating, the usage of good girl, slight nipple play, armin being a big ass tease. Reader being embarrassed easily.

Summery: Armin is a quiet person by nature, and you’ve learned that through the countless conversations you’ve had with him, just nodding along while you ramble on and on about anything and everything.

He’s always been like that, and you’ve grown accustomed to him not being as vocal as others during day-to-day activities—that is, until night comes and he becomes the biggest tease in the world.

His fingers barely touch your skin as they ghost across it. You'd be lying if you claimed that you hadn't attempted to mimic the way he touches you and the way his long, deft fingers cause you to writhe. He dwarfs every ex-lover of yours. Your hands don't feel the same as before. It almost makes up for his flimsiness. Just almost.

Your face is cupped by his calloused hands. You lean in even more as you are drawn in by the warmth of his skin. You sense yourself gradually caving in to him.

He reclines. If it weren't for the evil-sounding giggle he lets out, you might not have noticed. He observes as your eyes enlarge. Your brows furrow in anger.

"Did you want me to kiss you?" He asked.

You mumble, "stop teasing," .

Armin gives you a swift peck on the forehead, than your jaw's curvature.

He squeezes your thigh and says, "It's my job to tease you; I enjoy seeing you writhe."

Armin brushes your hair away from your eyes while stroking it with one hand. Goosebumps start to rise along your shoulders at the soft contact. When he takes his hand away, you clearly pout.

“Please,”you beg.

He answers your pleas by grabbing you and giving you a forceful, desperate kiss. Armin bites at your lower lip until you allow him to stick his tongue into your mouth to feel how moist it is. He has a faint caramel flavor dancing on the top of his tongue from the candy he was eating earlier. He looks as though he doesn't know what to do with his hands. Your sweatpants are pulled down to reveal your already-wet pussy as they creep up your sides, stroking the delicate flesh of your breasts and hips.

One of his hands glides in between your knees while his broad, calloused fingers draw arcs over your clitoral area. You almost melt under his touch. Your chest was pressed against his in the most advantageous posture, with your knees firmly placed on either side.

He is fueled by every groan and gasp that is nearly allowed to escape your lips but is stopped by his tongue. Your face sinks into the crook of his neck as you breathe in his aroma. He smells mostly like sugar lychee and Angle soft laundry detergent.

You whimper as he removes his hand because you miss his touch. So close to your own freedom, yet so far away. He extends a hand to shake. You obediently put his fingers in your mouth and circled them with your tongue.

“Strip.” He orders. You comply.

The first thing to come off is the shirt you stole from him. You slowly throw it aside after pulling it over your head. He notices you are not wearing a bra underneath, and the corner of his lip twitches. Your nipples' delicate skin is gently pulled and pinched by his hands as they palm at your breasts. They are enthusiastically squeezed by calloused hands as they gush over their roundness.

Then come your sweatpants. You must briefly move away from his lap in order to slide the object down your legs. His hand gropes appreciatively toward your behind. He gives you a swift slap while smiling at the way your ass wiggles and admiring how you let out a small gasp. You wouldn't describe it as painful, yet it stings. The crimson mark he left behind is covered by his hand.

"Look at you, my good girl." His deep chest chuckles are audible. It is impossible to deny the heat that radiates up to your face. Your hands rise to cover your face in embarrassment. Your arms automatically cross over your chest. It's not like he hasn't seen your body before.

“Don't hide yourself sweetheart." He gently tugs your arms down, admiring the way the lit candles reflects off your skin. “I want to see you.”

You straddle his thigh. The way you grind down against him is far from subtle. He notices the way your face contorts with need and the small wet patch your cunt leaves on his thigh.

His tongue is poised to display his adoration. He guides your hips to rest on his chest as he reclines quite ungracefully. His blonde hair gathers around his head as he smirks while saying his next words.

“Be a good girl and ride my face.".

There's no hiding the way your body heats up. From chest to forehead, you’re warm. His hands trail down your sides, squeezing your ass and hips. You settle over his face and thighs on either side of his head. The warmth of your skin spreads to him.

His tongue slithers around your clitoral area, dipping into your folds. To your clit, he presses kitten licks. Armin's touches are never just what you need, but they are always agonizingly close. Just like him, his touch is ephemeral. In order to get him to where you want him most, your fingers are buried in his hair.

“ you said you wouldn’t tease!” You whine loudly.

He pulls you down into his face as his hold on your thighs becomes more firm. A hot tongue showers adoration on your yearning clitoral area. His deft tongue makes delicate circles around your genitalia while nibbling and sucking at the tender bud. Other than your own groans, you can hear a man who is happy with what he is doing. With his head between your thighs, he could pass away content.

As you pursue your own release, you slam down into his face. With each dexterous flick of his tongue, heat builds low in your stomach. You've become nothing more than a writhing, rambling mess, calling out his name as if it were a prayer.

The knot in your stomach finally snaps.

Armin holds your hips down while you experience your climax on his face. The overstimulation takes some time for your lust-drunk mind to realize. His tongue continues to dance over your clitoral area with eagerness, seemingly oblivious to your undulating form. Toji's face has a sparkle in the shadowy light on its lower half. His messy hair is sticking out in all different directions from your frantic hold. His face breaks out in a dreamy, sly grin. You don't frequently see him looking that calm.

You are wobbly and sensitive due to your post-Organism haze. His hands caress your reddened skin as he scans your figure with a hungry gaze. Though he doesn't express his feelings in the most verbal manner, what is happening in his thoughts is seen in his eyes. All at once, but also piece by piece, he takes you in. What his mouth won't say, his eyes will.

“Did you think you could get away that easily?” He asks.

You swallowed hard, and you knew you were in for a long night.

Author note: this been in my drafts for months, I also just realized I haven’t wrote nothing in almost two whole months school must have really been kicking my ass 😂.

#➶ ͙˚ ༘✶ ( 𝒥𝓊𝓅𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝓈 )#armin arlet smut #armin x black reader #armin arlet x black reader #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan smut #armin being the biggest tease in the world 😙

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newlifeahead · 1 year ago

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The strange new outfit was for him. He had chosen it, insisted I dress in it. It had me feeling awkward at first. I was never one to feel like I was sexy, the strange straps smelling like well-oiled leather used around the horses had me indeed feeling just that way. Wiggling and rubbing my pointy nipples against the material made me tingle a little at first, and finally sending a white-hot charges deep inside me, where my body was slowly awakening craving him in a way I had also never before known.

Independent at heart, it was hard to admit that I ever needed anything from anyone. But this man created deep within me a tangible need so well defined it was feeling like a living breathing entity of it’s own. It was alive inside of me. A wonderful creature created of lustful frenzied desire to be taken by him. A fiery beast inside of me screaming to be seen and touched.

Staring into his eyes, I felt as if I had fallen into a deep well, and it was all him. I was lost in the world of him, and yet I felt that he had at the same time found me. His musky scent made me dizzy with a hungry desperate need of his body. A need to belong and to be owned. A foreign experience where the untamed desperate need to please him, was completely overcoming my natural tendency to be in charge.

One would think that my take charge management side would be at war with the need to give in completely to his dominance. Being submissive in all ways to his strong presence did not feel at odds at all with my core self. He had me completely comfortable with his control. His large hand gripping my neck tilting my chin up and taking a demanding kiss in a rapid motion, weakened my resolve further.

My body felt as if it were melting into an electrically charged puddle of desperation. A word I never said was spilling from my mouth, “Fuck me please?” my voice quivering unnaturally begged. I was now icy hot with a desperation trembling all over as a result of his eyes drinking me in with a matched desperation and hunger of his own, while kissing me so deeply his mouth claimed my breath.

His breathing was calm, his confident smile and smooth motions, opposite of the desire in his eyes, which nearly seemed molten as he looked me up and down.

Grabbing one breast, he bit and then sucked hard. I groaned wanting more.

“Patience baby. The night is young.” He said as he loosened his tie and took a sip of his drink. The clinking ice reminding me from far away I was thirsty. I did not care any longer. He leaned forward with a glass and straw, telling me to sip. And I did.

He asked me if I understood what was happening, I shook my head no, His confident smile with humor filled eyes suggested I did. He reached down and pinched a nipple playfully. “You know, and we will discuss it more later. Nod your head if you want to submit to me. That is all I need to know.

I nodded slowly my eyes locked on his. His hand on my neck again, his thumb grazing over my cheek, while he tilted my head up for yet another hungry demanding kiss.

He swiftly dropped his slacks; his enlarged cock sprang out with a mind of its own. “We are all going to become very familiar with each other now.”

He helped me to stand, and assisted me to my knees, and asked if I wanted a taste. I smiled while my head nodded yes. With an also unfamiliar boldness, I took him into my mouth. I licked and sucked and kissed losing time My hands moving and assisting my mouth. His groans helped me know I was doing right by his wants of me. His taste, the velvety feel of him on my tongue. How he felt in my throat. Never had I ever admired a man so much as this man. Time could have stopped that second, I would have been content to have this be the last thing I would ever do.

When he stopped me, I was disappointed, except he lay me down and began to touch me. He was right the night was only just beginning at that point, but before it had ended, there was no part of him I was unfamiliar with, nor he with me.

He has helped me find myself in him. It is strange, how the right person can help us to feel all the right things. And still want to share more. I am lost and found in him daily, and grateful as well. ® (tn)

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skaruresonic · 1 month ago

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Lakeside

Summary:

James Sunderland doesn't remember why he'd driven his car into the lake. He can't explain why he was rescued, or what led to his decision, but he clings to the hope that someone will help him piece it together before hell freezes over. Douglas Cartland swore he'd never set foot in that godforsaken town again. That vow gets tested when Toluca Lake begins freezing in the middle of summer, against all logic and reason, and resurrects the drowned man he'd given up for dead.

Or, "Nature is healing. Hell is freezing over."

Prologue - Tumblr / AO3

Will you reach heaven unassisted? Or must corpses point the path, Blind eyes glimpsing gold?

Another face swims in.

"Mr. Sunderland: Dr. Takuma again. I know how worn out you must be from the tests you've endured today. Rest assured, we won't keep you for much longer. Before we let you go, though, there is one last thing we must test."

"I need to go home."

"This will move much faster with your cooperation."

The laminated card clipped to the breast pocket claims his name is Robert Takuma. When James observes his face, he sees no connection. Certainly there are pieces that constitute an identity, eyes, nose, and mouth, but no underlying thread stitches them together. They float in a loose amalgamation without coherence or meaning. A mannequin of clothed limbs perches on the stool before him.

"Now, this exercise may seem rather silly and childish on the surface, but it will reveal quite a bit about the nature of your condition. With these flashcards, I will show you a series of illustrations. You tell me which is correct about them. Ready?" He interprets James' silence as consent and raises the first card. "Man or woman?"

James dwells in wordlessness before murmuring, "Woman."

"Why?"

"It's wearing high heels."

"Mm." The card settles in Takuma's lap, replaced by another. "Old or young?"

"Old."

"Why?"

"Cane."

"Good." Hands shuffle the deck. "Blonde or brunette?"

Silence.

"Blonde or brunette, Mr. Sunderland?"

"…I don't know."

"We'll circle back to that," Takuma says. "Which of these is not wearing glasses?"

He chooses the left.

"Point to the figure with a green shirt."

He complies.

"Heart tattoo on the bicep."

That, too.

"Smiling?"

They're treating him like a child.

"If you would, please list three differences between these faces."

He stares at the twin cards. They aren't illustrations but Polaroids. In his left hand, Takuma holds an enlarged facsimile of the photo he keeps in his wallet.

Kept; the lake stole it from him. Where Toluca's minerals leached its color and the water crumbled its grain to dust, the image burns clearly, seared into his mind by the radiant thuribles of the fluorescents burning around them.

In a world where most faces elude him, she shines, clear and lucent.

The other hand shows a horrendously different woman. Pustules swell and blister her complexion like globules of ancient film burning to a close. Melting into a wax grotesquery of herself, deprived of her outer beauty, never abandoning her smile.

The whisper crawls from his vocal cords. "Why do you have pictures of my wife?" A cold trickle forms on the back of his neck as the doctor rises. "No— Who gave you those?"

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Sunderland."

---

Damn it, what kind of game do they think they're playing? They've kept him penned in here for way too long. Locking him in a dim room like this, it's insane. More than insane. It's criminal. Mary's coming home tomorrow. He can't be languishing in the hospital himself.

Confined to a padded mattress, James glances down his arm. Gray, waterlogged skin bundles a loose blanket of flesh over atrophied muscles, showing veins and bones in disgustingly salient detail. Blue vessels weave a fine net over his flesh. IVs have blossomed grotesque bruises along its expanse.

Crushing his lips together, James tears the adhesive. The needle he extracts stings like hell, bringing a startling smatter of crimson to the surface.

Monitors scream, a noise he extinguishes by pulling the cord. No need to alert the nurses.

His head throbs as he wheels his bare feet onto the tile.

God, he's exhausted.

In the corner stands a bureau. Rising on unsteady knees, he shambles toward it.

Swinging the door open, he finds a bright silver square staring back at him. He opts to ignore it as he bends down to put on what remains of his clothes. They've taken his jacket, but at least the undershirt doesn't feel too damp when he slips his arm through the sleeve.

First things first. He's got to find a payphone and call his father. He doesn't want to impose on Frank, but he harbors a faint hope that he might have a spare key to their apartment so he can let Mary inside, allowing her to get settled in with her new nurse.

Hell, he'll pay, if that's what his father wants. Frank will protest anything for family; it's more to ease James' mind. He can't have Mary waiting out in the hall.

Tomorrow, he resolves. He'll straighten this out then. Tell his good Samaritans thank you even though he can't stay. Board a bus for North Ashfield.

The prospect of travel makes him nervous. Mary can hardly stand as it is, and… Well. St. Jerome's can't loan her a wheelchair her insurance won't cover.

She could lean on the wall, he supposes, try to slumber out his arrival, but can he gamble on the landlord allowing her to loiter there? Besides, her circulation's poor. Her hands and feet swell with fluid. Even though he finds himself sweating in this balmy air, she'd shiver.

His head sags on its neck. James indulges a new habit he's formed since being admitted and slowly, deliberately pops his knuckles one at a time. His hands have become skeletal, corded things he doesn't recognize; the water has eroded the muscle and fat that used to reside beneath the skin.

Air pockets crackle the joints as he depresses, with long, thin fingers tapering into chalk-white nailbeds. He doesn't feel them. These can't be his. These are borrowed from someone else, a pair of gloves he's forced to wear, coated in small nicks and gouges.

(woodgrain biting into his flesh when he grips the)

He raises his head to face his reflection.

They alleged this was his as well. All of these unsolicited gifts offered him, as though he had to be introduced as a guest to his own body.

The staff hadn't taken too kindly to his refusals. The first time, they insisted. The second, he grew agitated. Please put that away. He'd made his request clear after the numerous hours they'd spent poking and prodding him to ensure his mind remained intact. His patience had worn thin in worry over how long they were keeping him from Mary.

Wasn't a little disorientation after a car accident to be expected? How many more hoops did they want him to jump? He's healthy, isn't he?

(more than she'll ever be)

The third, he lunged to snatch the mirror from the nurse, but missed. Instead, he wound up knocking it out of her hand, accidentally shattering glass in the process.

James froze when the pieces scattered diamonds across the tiles. Disembodied parts flooded the floor. Eyes, lips, ears. Nothing adding up.

The moment he realized what he'd done, a shameful heat suffused his cheeks, pricking needles under his skin. Look at yourself, he thought, the irony of his inability only pushing the thorns deeper. You're acting like a child. What would Mary think?

James gives empty gaze to the glass, the impostor on the other side mirroring his languid movements. Watched by a mask he cannot remove. The eyes that track him aren't really his own. Two broken-bottle green irises. Not too deep. Too shallow.

Fingers uncertain, he traces the contours of this alien terrain, starting from the bridge of his nose downwards, into the dip of his Cupid's bow. The soft streams of breath he releases through his nostrils tickle him.

A thin sheet of epidermis stretched over musculature, bone, and cartilage. It feels too dead an inheritance to claim.

As he watches this strange reflection mimic his movements, he suffers a dark but fleeting impulse to harm it. If he hooked his dirty nails into the flesh and peeled away his doppelganger's false mask, shed his snake's skin layer by layer, there may be a chance he'd reveal something truer underneath.

(or maybe you would find nothing)

#silent hill #silent hill 2 #silent hill fanfic #james sunderland #sh #sh2 #lakeside

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healthcare-1123 · 4 months ago

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steroidmart · 4 months ago

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Everything You Should Know About Dianabol for Bodybuilding

Introduction

People who are into bodybuilding are always looking for new ways to make their muscles grow and their abilities better. Dianabol, which is also called Methandrostenolone or Dianabol, has become one of the most common supplements and anabolic steroids on the market. Dianabol has become an essential part of many bodybuilders' habits because of how well it builds muscle and strength. This complete guide will discuss everything you need to know about Dianabol for bodybuilding, such as its pros, cons, dosages, and options.

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Risks and Side Effects of Dianabol

Dianabol has many benefits, but knowing its risks and side effects is essential. Dianabol, like any other anabolic steroid, can be evil for your health if you don't use it properly.

Liver Toxicity: Dianabol can hurt the liver, which is what it means to be lipotoxic. Long-term use or high doses can make liver problems more likely, so it's essential to be careful and talk to a doctor before taking this steroid.

Hormonal Imbalances: Dianabol can throw off the body's average hormone balance, which can cause side effects like acne, hair loss, and gynecomastia (enlarged breast tissue in men). It can also stop the body from making its testosterone, which could cause long-term reproductive problems.

Cardiovascular Issues: People who use Dianabol may be more likely to have heart problems, like high blood pressure, and a higher chance of heart disease. Monitoring your cholesterol levels and living a healthy life while taking this drug is essential.

4. Water Retention: Dianabol can make you hold on to water, making you look fat, and could cause problems with your blood pressure. You can control this effect by eating well and drinking enough water.

5. Psychological Effects: While using Dianabol, some people may have mood swings, become angry, or experience other mental effects. These effects can be more potent if the steroid is taken in large amounts or for a long time.

Proper Dosage and Cycle Recommendations

If you want to use Dianabol for bodybuilding, you need to be careful and follow the dose instructions.

Beginner Dosage: An expected first amount for people new to Dianabol is 15 to 30 mg daily. This dose may give you good benefits while reducing the risk of side effects.

Intermediate Dosage: Advanced users may increase their daily dose to 30 to 50 mg. Maintaining an eye on the body's reaction and changing the dose as needed is essential.

Advanced Dosage: Advanced users may take up to 80 mg daily, but this dramatically raises the risk of side effects and should be done with care.

Cycle Length

Cycles of Dianabol usually last between 4 and 6 weeks. Because the risk of liver damage and other side effects goes up with longer cycles, they are not advised. After finishing a Dianabol cycle, it's also essential to do post-cycle therapy (PCT) to help restore natural hormone balance and lessen any adverse effects.

Stacking Dianabol

To get better results, a lot of bodybuilders choose to stack Dianabol with other anabolic drugs. Combining Dianabol with testosterone or Deca-Durabolin is a familiar mix. However, you should be careful when adding it because it can raise the risk of side effects.

Alternatives to Dianabol

For people who are worried about the risks of Dianabol, there are safer and legal options. These options, which are sometimes called "legal steroids," are meant to work like Dianabol without having any harmful side effects.

D-Bal: D-Bal is a famous legal alternative to Dianabol. It is made from natural ingredients and is meant to help muscles grow, get stronger, and recover without causing any harm.

Anvarol: Anvarol is a legal replacement to steroids that is known to help build lean muscle and strength. It can be used for both cutting and bulking cycles.

Trenorol: Trenorol is a legal option for Trenbolone that works like a medicine and helps you gain muscle, get stronger, and get in better shape.

Conclusion

Many lifters still choose Dianabol to gain strength quickly and get better at what they do. But it's essential to know the risks and side effects before using it. It's important to use drugs sensibly, take the right amount, and keep track of your cycles to lower your health risks. Many people want to meet their bodybuilding goals without the risks that come with anabolic steroids. Legal steroids like D-Bal can help them do that.

To ensure that a Dianabol cycle fits your health needs and exercise goals, you should talk to a doctor or nurse before you start.

#bodybuilding #exercise #gym #nutrition #running #workout #crossfit #dianabol #steroid #anabolic steroids #bodybuilding steroids #steroids for sale #steroid muscle

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intersex-questions · 1 year ago

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hihi!!

what counts as intersex? Is it just genitalia? Also i never knew intersex came in variants 😭 can u give some examples of some intersex variants ?

Thank u for all ur help and this blog 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

This is a super duper long answer! Apologies for that. If you have more questions please ask! I've sorted this by your questions.

CW: Discussion of genitalia, illustrated image of genitalia (at the very end with an additional reminder content warning)

What counts as intersex?

This is a great question! First off, no, it’s NOT just genitalia, although that’s a common misconception!

This is how I personally define intersex:

Intersex- An umbrella term to describe individuals who have sex characteristics naturally found in their body that do not fit the societal standard of a traditional standard of a male or female body. These sex characteristics can include but aren't limited to: abnormal puberty, fertility, genitalia, and/hormonal levels.

It’s important to note that one can only be considered intersex if they were born that way, or, along the way in their life, develop those traits due to their body’s natural processes and NOT from HRT (hormone replacement therapy, like testosterone and estrogen, HRT can cause changes in sex characteristics that cause an individual’s body to no longer fit the societal and traditional standards of what the correct male or female body is like).

InterAct also has a definition I quite like:

"The term intersex is an umbrella term that refers to people who have one or more of a range of variations in sex characteristics that fall outside of traditional conceptions of male or female bodies. For example, intersex people may have variations in their chromosomes, genitals, or internal organs like testes or ovaries. Some intersex characteristics are identified at birth, while other people may not discover they have intersex traits until puberty or later in life." -InterACT

You might be thinking, “what are sex characteristics?” Understanding sex characteristics are very key to understanding what intersex is AND how broad of a spectrum it is.

Sex characteristics can be sorted into primary sex characteristics and secondary sex characteristics. Primary sex characteristics of the genitalia, the part of the body that’s function is for sexual reproduction. Secondary sex characteristics are any other characteristics that are commonly associated with its primary sex and often occur during puberty.

Primary sex characteristics in what is traditionally considered female includes but isn’t limited to:

The vulva

The vagina

The clitoris

The uterus

The inner and outer labia

Secondary sex characteristics in what is traditionally considered female includes but isn’t limited to:

Increased breast tissue after puberty

Increased pubic hair and armpit hair after puberty (traditional standards dictate that this is less than in “males”)

Body composition (increased body fat percentages in areas like the butt and hips after puberty)

Pitch of voice (higher than “males”/becomes shrill after puberty)

Enlargement of uterus and vagina

Narrowing of the shoulders after puberty

Widening of the hips after puberty

Releasing of egg cells (menstruation/periods)

Nearly anything affected within the body whether internally or externally due to a traditional puberty

Primary sex characteristics in what is traditionally considered male includes but isn’t limited to:

The penis

The scrotum

The testis

The prostate gland

Seminal vesicles

Secondary sex characteristics in what is traditionally considered male includes but isn’t limited to:

Lack of breast tissue

Increased pubic, armpit, facial hair, chest hair, and overall body hair (traditional standards dictate that this is more than in “females”)

Body composition (increased muscular tone after puberty)

Pitch of voice (deeper than “females” after puberty)

Enlargement of the penis after puberty

Widening of the shoulders after puberty

Production of sperm cells

Nearly anything affected within the body whether internally or externally due to a traditional puberty

Once you understand primary and secondary sex characteristics, you can begin understand what those are supposed to look like traditionally in any given society for their designated sexes. In the USA at least, it is expected that a vagina be a certain width, that a clitoris is below a certain size and that the penis is above a certain size, and more. A significant number of places and people (not all, and it’s definitely more than it used to be due to Westernization and colonization) in the world use a binary system of male and female with expectations in what each body is supposed to look like, function as, and so on.

What are intersex variants?

Intersex variants are simply any type of variant of being intersex. Intersex variants are also synonymous with intersex conditions. Different intersex people will give you different answers on what classifies as being intersex. This is a point of discussion and argument within the community. Medical professionals also often argue on this, however their opinions are often disregarded by many intersex people as they themselves are not the ones being affected by being intersex, and intersex people have a history of being medically modified without consent by doctors.

I am extremely liberal with what I consider being intersex. I am making this clear to let you know my information will be biased towards a more inclusive stance to what is considered intersex.

An intersex variant is often defined with a specific medical diagnosis or term that describes what it is. However, not all intersex people fit into an easy medical diagnosis or simply cannot be diagnosed as what intersex condition they have. Some people (more conservative on the definition of intersex) often believe you need to have a medical diagnosis to be intersex. Other people (more liberal) often believe you only need to be able to recognize that you fall on the intersex spectrum on your own.

What are some examples of intersex variants?

Probably the easiest to understand intersex variation is ovotestis/true hermaphroditism.

DISCLAIMER: Please note that hermaphrodite, a term used to mean someone who is physically both “male” and “female”, is considered a slur and offensive term towards intersex people. You should not call an intersex person a hermaphrodite. Some intersex people reclaim it for themselves, but don’t call someone that unless they explicitly want to be called that. (Animals who are biologically both “male” and “female” are referred to as hermaphrodites. In this case, it is not offensive. Just remember it IS offensive towards humans.) Intersex is an alternative, non-offensive, more inclusive term than hermaphrodite.

True hermaphroditism is also referred to as ovotesticular syndrome/ovotestis (with a preference on it being called ovotestis). This is what most people imagine when they think of intersex. However, it is not the most common intersex variation and actually one of the rarest. There are also many misconceptions about it. This is when someone is born with both ovarian and testicular tissue. People with this intersex variation/condition might have both functioning testes and ovaries, but not all do. People with this also almost always have some level of both a penis and vagina/vulva. But having this condition is also a spectrum of itself, so not everyone is the same.

(The following is from a very inclusive view of intersex.)

Some VERY common examples of intersex variations are: Clitoromegaly, gynecomastia, and a micropenis.

Clitoromegaly is when one has a clitoris above the size of what is considered socially acceptable. This is often caused by increased testosterone or development within the womb. Some people believe that you must have other symptoms alongside clitoromegaly to be intersex, however I personally believe that any variation, especially in primary sex characteristics, count as intersex. This usually presents itself during puberty, but can be born this way as well. Many people born with clitorises that are seen as “too large” are surgically modified to make them smaller without their consent at birth.

Gynecomastia is the overdevelopment of breast tissue in males past the point what is considered socially acceptable. This isn’t to be confused with fat tissue on the pectorals and not to be confused with muscular development on the pectorals. I think even more people might view this as something that needs other symptoms alongside it to be considered intersex, but I consider it intersex, especially since it is extremely stigmatizing and ostracizing to have and often leads to medical modification to remove breast tissue.

A micropenis is when someone has a penis that is significantly smaller than what is considered the average or socially acceptable size for a penis. There are various medical standards for what a micropenis is. Again, not all would consider this inherently intersex, and I can understand cases where a micropenis wouldn’t be intersex, but in many cases, I am of the opinion that it is an intersex condition. Clitoromegaly and a micropenis are often confused at birth by doctors who decide that if the structure is large enough, it is a penis and the baby is a boy, and if it is small enough, it is a clitoris and it is a girl. Steps are often then taken to reduce the size of the clitoris in this case. A micropenis is often comorbid (occurs along with) gynecomastia.

One of the most common intersex variations/conditions in my opinion is PCOS. Please note there is a large number of people who argue that this isn’t intersex. PCOS stands for polycystic ovary syndrome. Individuals with this have enlarged ovaries that often develop cysts. Symptoms of PCOS can be hyperandrogenism (excess testosterone/more testosterone than socially acceptable), acne, and excess body hair.

(This ends information that is in a more inclusive view of intersex.)

Many intersex conditions/variations are connected to differences in one’s chromosomes. It is socially understood that “males” are born with XY chromosomes and that “females” are born with XX chromosomes.

@intersex-support has a (non-exhaustive) list of intersex variations here.

One thing that also helps understanding intersex overall is you can imagine “biological sex” on a slider almost, from male to female. Once people start to have traits that aren’t enough on one end or the other, they’re considered intersex. The causes for this can be many. This case doesn’t account for as many secondary sex characteristics though, but it does help in understanding genitalia specifically.

Here are two images that I think can help in understanding the spectrum that is intersex. They don’t offer a complete view of the spectrum, but do help.

CW for illustrations of genitalia.

I no longer have credit to the artist or creator of this as it was saved to my computer. If you know the creator, please tell me so I can credit.

End CW

This image/chart is more complicated and still non-exhaustive, but it is fun to look at and explore.

Credit for this image goes here.

Again, sorry for this being so long! And truly, if you have more questions, I'd love to answer.

If anyone sees any errors whether it be typos, grammatical errors, or informational errors, I'll correct them as soon as possible, just point it out.

#fren-in-your-computr #asks #questions #intersex #i like your icon also i saw it and was like omg! lyra is in my inbox!#undescribed #<- the images are undescribed because i genuinely don't know how to describe that chart i am so sorry!#to any visually impaired folks the link to the chart I mention might has information explaining it but I dont know if it has any IDs #genitalia

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