#and I know the answer as to why people do this is misogyny and also that we simply don’t get to know her very well on her own

[filmydidii]

Trans men face oppression for moving away from a "potential womb" combined with other factors. Gender conservatives think that trans men's bodies can be "reclaimed" just like anyone who has been or is percieved as female in their life.

What often causes controversy about this is that; everyone underneath "the perfect man" is womanized. That is the truth. Gender is not a binary, it is a hierarchy, however I see many trans men (especially boys) *pretend,* conciously or unconciously, that the gender binary cultural feminism has made them aware of exists, and end up third-sexing or misgendering trans women.

"AFAB people struggle with their bodies" for example. Implies that """AMAB people""" and """AFAB people""" are on opposite sides of a spectrum (strong to weak, simple to complex etc) and ignores that trans women aren't unique to oppression. We go through misogyny since we are born, we are pained by feminized labour and we disassociate our entire lives. No one is interested to talk about our struggle but are eager to assign us male privilige we don't even have.

I have a word for men who play into the privilige (the privilige of being seen as having internality between people who believe that anyone who has been percieved as female in childhood is pure, can do no wrong and has internality; you can't deny how much it happens in LGBTQIA+ circles) that is handed out to them: Men ☕

Basically, it is your choice. If you present your struggle as a binary rather than a hierarchy, then you don't care about trans women. I'm not saying that you have to care: I'm just a stupid girl on the internet afterall, but just be aware that you are hurting trans women.

Oh, and why do trans women not have to do that?

Answer: We already do.

When you are assigned non-functioning male privilige, you need to understand the conflict between what people are saying and what actually is happening. Trans people, especially trans women (because men are more important to the patriarchy) expose the gender binary as a hierarchy: trans women show how men are not naturally superior at all, superiority is simply out for them to grab. And that a masculine girl who does not play into this nonsense is brutalised and raped and beaten and much more.

Trans women with even a shred of self-respect know that gender is a heirarchy. Only the perfect man is given privilige. Trans men and non binary people who have been percieved as female since birth have a much simpler barrier to pass through to get onto the "activist side" to "speak their truth" and "show the patriarchy what it is:" it is the belief that male and female are concrete in some way, males are naturally given privilige and nothing much takes it. Females are never in power and are automatically at odds to the patriarchy cuz... VIBES!

So yeah. If you want, you can and should continue but then just know that I will fucking hate you, and that simply talking about your struggle can also misgender trans women. (Before taking this line out of context, reread the last two paragraphs and don't use your "piss on the poor" comprehension.)

Bye.

-vaishnavi (filmydidi)

I can't believe "trans men face oppression for their gender identity" is a controversial take now in the year of our Lord 2024 but here we are ig

[angelsarecomputers]

I know it’s been said but I find it so weird when people demonise Dora. The one interaction that we get with her- the REAL her- in the whole game, she is extremely patient, despite the fact that Harry is calling her in the middle of the night and asking creepo shit like ‘are you sleeping naked’. We can infer through context clues that this has probably happened multiple times before, and yet she still knows no signs of ill-will towards Harry- she just seems tired and concerned.

And it would be completely within her right to be angry at him for harassing her, as well! Knowing how volatile Harry can be, perhaps she even learned through fear not to confront him. And yet, there still seems to be this perception that, out of the both of them, DORA was the abusive one, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary! It’s not even that I don’t think she wasn’t at least slightly abusive, given Harry’s disabilities and their class differences, but what I am saying is that it was likely mutual, and that, out of the two of them, Harry was worse.

Their relationship probably got horrible and toxic towards the end, of that I have no doubt. What I don’t get is why the fandom seems to believe that Harry, as he currently is, is in any way capable of viewing the relationship objectively. There’s ample evidence that he was violent, frequently misogynistic, and that the experience gap between him and Dora was significant, and yet people still take his worst thoughts at face value. That she’s a ‘war criminal’, that’s she’s a goddess- people seem to think Harry’s deification of her is the main issue, and not the opposite; his virulent hatred towards Dora, towards ‘Revacholian women’.

It just boggles me that people are so willing to believe that Harry was the only one truly hurt- that Dora’s decision to leave was made lightly. We don’t know exactly what happened, and what glimpses we do get are filtered horribly through Harry’s grief, but they were in a relationship for more than a decade! They were planning to get married! I don’t think Dora just up and left for Mirova one day- the way the dream conversation goes seems to suggest they hadn’t been together for a while.

There are so, so many things said during the final dream that are probably just Harry’s self-hatred masquerading as Dora/Dolores- and while I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of it did come from Dora, at other points in their relationship, I think it’s pretty obvious that the final dream is meant to be a confused muddle of Harry’s memories and grief. Why else would she appear as Dolores Dei? But, while no one ever explicitly says it, I feel like a lot of people want to believe that the way things are during the last dream is how they were in real life. That Dora really was cold and cruel to Harry- when in real life she appears as just the opposite, despite what he puts her through.

[hippopotatoe]

i'm going batshit over the similarities between old cholera outbreaks and covid 19 wlkdhdjdbs dljdhd people really are people huh!!!!!

[giritina]

Lately I've been dipping my toe into the mess that is transandrophobia discourse, and in the process I've been presented with one question in many forms:

"Do trans men experience misogyny?"

My initial answer was "these terms are all theoretical frameworks for a vast range of human experiences, why would you choose to frame your pre-transition experiences as that of a woman?" This makes sense to me, but clearly isn't satisfactory to many of the people sending me anons. As much as I might want to use my own life as a case study, I can't very well tell these people in my asks box "no, you've never experienced something that could be categorized as misogyny." Still, the question bothers me.

I think that's because the question obfuscates the actual debate. It's clear to me the question we are debating is not one of "experience" but "authority." That is:

"Do (binary) trans men understand what it's like to be a woman?"

My answer? No.

How can I justify that when we have, since birth, been raised as women? Well, because we also have, since birth, been trans men. If we cast aside the idea of transness as a modern social construct or anything other than an innate and biological reality, this has to be true. Even before you ever came out to yourself, you were transgender. Transphobia has dictated every moment of your life. Your idea of what "womanhood" is is not at all the same as a woman's, be it cis or trans. Why? Because a woman does not react to "being a woman" with the dysphoria, dissociation, and profound sense of wrongness that you do. [If you do not experience these things, a cis or trans woman, at the very least, does not identify as a binary trans man.] A woman sincerely identifies as a woman, and identity plays a pivotal role in how we absorb societal messaging.

Let's take homophobia as an example. While any queer person has probably experienced targeted episodes of bigotry, the majority of bigotry we experience must necessarily be broad and social. Boys learn to fear becoming a faggot as a group, but the boy who is a faggot will internalize those messages in a completely different way to the boys who only need learn to assert the heterosexual identity already inherent in them through violence. All of them are suffering to some extent, but their experiences are not at all equivalent. This is despite the fact that they've all absorbed the same message, maybe even at the same moment, through the same events. Still, we don't say that a straight boy knows what it is like to be a gay boy. Similarly, cis women do not know what it is like to be a trans man despite being fed the same transphobic messaging in a superficially identical context. It isn't a stretch to say the same can apply to misogyny.

Because I can't speak for you, I'll use myself as an example for a moment. I'll give my bonafides: I am a gender-nonconforming, T4T queer, white, binary trans man. I am on T, and I have recently come out to my family. I do not pass. My career as a comic writer is tied to my identity as a trans man. I can confidently say I have never been impacted by misogyny the same way as my friends who actually identify as women. This manifested early on as finding it easy to shrug off the messaging that I needed to be X or Y way to be a woman. In fact, most gender roles slid off my back expressly because breaking them gave me euphoria. I was punished in many ways for this, but being this sort of cis woman did help me somewhat. It's easy to be "one of the guys" in a social climbing sense if you really do feel more comfortable as a man. It also helped me disregard misogyny aimed at me or others because it seemed like an shallow form of bigotry. It was something you could shrug off, but it was important for building "unity" among women. I thought this must be the case for all women, that we all viewed misogyny as a sort of "surface level" bigotry. However, for whatever conditional status I gained in this role, there was a clear message that if I did "become" a man, every non-conformist trait about me would just become a grotesque and parodic masculinity.

That was the threat that was crushing me, destroying my identity and self esteem. That was what I knew intimately through systemic, verbal, physical, and sexual abuse. I could express my nonconformity as a cis woman, but if I took it so far as to transition to male? I would be a pathetic traitor, a social outcast. I truly believe that throughout my life people were able to see that I was not just a failed woman, but an emasculated man.

I do partly feel that the sticking point for many is the idea that the sexual abuse suffered by trans men is inherent to womanhood, and therefore inexplicable if trans men are men from birth. While this disregards the long history of sexual abuse of young boys, especially minority boys, I do see the emotional core. I'll offer that the sexual abuse I suffered was intrinsically linked to my emmasculation, my boyishness, despite the fact that I was not out to myself or anyone else. I believe many trans men have suffered being the proxy for cis women's desire for retribution against cis men, or for cis men and women's desire for an eternally nubile young boy. I also believe they have suffered corrective assault that attempts to push them back into womanhood, which in itself is an experience unique to transness rather than actual womanhood.

I'll note quickly that many, many trans men cannot relate to the idea of feeling confident and above it all when it comes to womanhood. Many of you probably tried desperately to conform, working every moment to convince yourself you were a woman and to perfectly inhabit that identity. I definitely experienced this as well (though for me it was specifically attempting to conform to butchness) but I can concede many of you experienced it more than I did. I still believe that this desperate play-acting is also not equivalent to true womanhood. It is a uniquely transgender experience, one that shares much more in common with trans women desperately attempting to conform to manhood than with true womanhood.

One key theme running through the above paragraphs is the idea that "womanhood" is synonymous with "suffering." A trans man must know what it is like to be a woman because he suffers like one. It should be noted that actual womanhood is not a long stretch of suffering. It often involves joy, euphoria, sisterhood, a general love and happiness at being a woman. It wasn't until I admitted to myself I had never been a woman that I was able to see how the women in my life were not women out of obligation, but because they simply were. The idea that you are a woman because you suffer is more alligned with radfem theory than any reality of womanhood.

When I admitted my identity to myself I was truly faced with the ways that my ability to stand up to misogyny did not equate to being anti-misogynist. I was giddy to finally be able to admit to being a man, and suddenly all that messaging that "slid off my back" was a useful tool in my arsenal. Much like cis gay men feel compelled to assert their disgust for vaginas and women after a life of being compelled towards heterosexuality, I felt disgust and aversion to discussions of womanhood as an identity. I didn't even want to engage with female fictional characters. I viewed other people's sincere expressions of their own womanhood as a coded dismissal of my identity. Like many people before and after, I made women into the rhetorical device that had oppressed me. Not patriarchy, not transphobia, but womanhood and women broadly. It wasn't explicit bigotry, but the effects were the same. I had to unlearn this with the help of my bigender partner, who felt unsettled and hurt by the way I could so easily turn "woman" into nothing but a theoretical category which represented my personal suffering.

This brings me to another point: I sometimes receive messages from nonbinary trans mascs telling me that it's absurd to think they don't understand womanhood and identify with misogyny in a deeper way. I would agree that, if you sincerely identify in some capacity as a woman, you are surely impacted by misogyny in a way I am not. However, why are you coming to the defense of binary trans men like me? Less charitably, why are you projecting a female identity on us? Perhaps my experience frustrates you so deeply because we simply do not have the same experience at all. Perhaps we are not all that united by our agab, by our supposed female socialization.

So, no. I do not believe that binary trans men know what it's like to be women. I don't believe we are authorities on womanhood. I do not believe that when a trans woman endeavors to talk about transmisogyny, your counterargument about your own experiences of misogyny is useful. I ESPECIALLY do not believe that it is in any way valid to say that you are less misogynist, less prone to being misogynist, or-- god forbid-- INCAPABLE of misogyny because you were raised as a girl. I also don't believe your misogyny is equivalent to that of a woman's internalized misogyny in form or impact.

For as much as many in this movement downplay privilege as merely "conditional," those conditions do exist. They do place you firmly in the context of the rest of the world. Zoom out and look at the history of oppressed men, and you'll find the same reactionary movement repeated over and over. Attacking the women in your community for not being soft enough, nice enough, patient enough, rather than fighting the powers that be. Why do I believe your identity is more alligned with cis manhood than any form of womanhood? Because this song and dance has been done a hundred times before by men of every stripe. Transphobia is real, and your life experience has been uniquely defined by it since birth. This is a thing to rally around, to fight against, but you all have fallen for a (trans)misogynistic phantasm in your efforts at self-actualization. You are not the first, and you will not be the last. Get out of this pipeline before it's too late.

[gothra]

I’ll never forget when I was arguing with a person in favor of total prison abolition and I asked them “what about violent offenders?” And they said “Well, in a world where prisons have been abolished, we’ll have leveled the playing field and everyone will have their basic needs met, and crime won’t be as much of an issue.” And then I was like “okay. But…no. Because rich people also rape and murder, so it isn’t just a poor person thing. So what will we do about that?” And I don’t think they answered me after that. I’m ashamed to say I continued to think that the problem was that I simply didn’t understand prison abolitionists enough and that their point was right in front of me, and it would click once I finally let myself understand it. It took me a long time to realize that if something is going to make sense, it needs to make sense. If you want to turn theory into Praxis (I’m using that word right don’t correct me I’ll vomit) everyone needs to be on board, which mean it all needs to click and it needs to click fast and fucking clear. You need to turn a complex idea into something both digestible and flexible enough to be expanded upon. Every time I ask a prison abolitionist what they actually intend to do about violent crime, I get directed to a summer reading list and a BreadTuber. It’s like a sleight-of-hand trick. Where’s the answer to my question. There it is. No wait, there it is. It’s under this cup. No it isn’t. “There’s theory that can explain this better than I can.” As if most theory isn’t just a collection of essays meant to be absorbed and discussed by academics, not the average skeptic. “Read this book.” And the book won’t even answer the question. The book tells you to go ask someone else. “Oh, watch this so-and-so, she totally explains it better than me.” Why can’t you explain it at all? Why did you even bring it up if you were going to point me to someone else to give me the basics that you should probably already know? Maybe I’m just one of those crazy people who thinks that some people need to be kept away from the public for everyone’s good. Maybe that just makes me insane. Maybe not believing that pervasive systemic misogyny could be solved with a UBI and a prayer circle makes me a bad guy. But it’s not like women’s safety is a priority anyway. It’s not like there is an objective claim to be made that re-releasing violent offenders or simply not locking them up is deadly.

[lgbtlunaverse]

I've been wrestling with two beliefs I hold simultaneously but that I previously (incorrectly) thought were contradictory: that sexuality is inherently harmless, but also that specific kinds of sexual desire have been used to enact and justify grievous harm. The notion that men's sexuality is more important than women's consent, that white men's sexual access to white women must be protected from the "threat" of men of color, the idea that this specific kind of desire is so inherent to a proper society that if you have the wrong kind of sexuality you deserve to be shunned and harmed.

How can sexuality both be inherently harmless and measurably harmful?

Anyway, the answer is very easy, and part of why I feel like we should stop treating sex as something completely unlike other things and horniness as unlike all other emotions. Because I realized that, oh, right, this happens to other feelings too.

You know another feeling that is not inherently dangerous but is frequently used to enact and justify violence? Fear.

Fear is not inherently evil. Not even if it's irrational and your level of fear does not correspond to the level of danger you're actually in. In fact, irrational fears are such a common phenomenon we literally have a word for them: phobias. Which you are not evil for having. (Am I calling phobias the fear equivalnet of kinks? Kind of... I guess)

But fear and discomfort are used all the time to harm people. Let's say some random white woman is walking home late at night, and she notices a man is following her. This man might just be walking in the same direction by coincidence, but there's a small chance he's following her on purpose. It is quite natural for the mind to wander, and we frequently fear what we do not know. Discomfort or fear, in this situation, is neither inherently harmful nor unusual. However, if this white woman has been inundated her whole life with 'stranger danger' narratives and stories of women being brutally kidnapped, assaulted, and murdered by strangers. (Even though the vast majority of female victims are killed by someone they know, most often a romantic partner or family member) and she then, by the flash of a streetlight, spots that the man following her is black, and she has also been fed a narrative that black men are inherently violent and dangerous, that feeling of discomfort is enhanced and distorted until she believes she is in genuine danger and calls the police.

Statistically speaking, that guy really was just walking in the same direction, and is unlikely to be a threat. However she has now seriously endangered him, and justified it by the fact that she was scared.

A man justifying sexual assault because he couldn't help it, he was just so attracted to her. (And she led him on! She was barely dressed!) Is weaponizing his horniness in exactly the same way as people who call the authoroties on a disabled homeless person because they were "acting weird" are weaponizing their fear.

And all emotions can be weaponized this way. Anger is used to justify domestic violence ("you shouldn't have provoked me") Happiness and fun is used to jeoparidize safety (the last 30 years of olympic games have had a death toll among construction workers of over 116. The 2022 world cup alone has an officially admitted death count of 40, but the real cost is likely in the hundreds) disgust is used so often it's hard to restrict it to a single example (queerphobia, ableism, fatphobia, racism, misogyny, it's everywhere)

Sexual desire is just one way among many where the comfort of the powerful is valued above the safety of the opressed. It's not unique, but instead painfully common. And it's useful to keep this in mind not to devalue it or deny it's happening, but because we can borrow tactics and learn from similar situations rather than getting stuck on endless debates on whether porn is intrinsically evil or not, which will get us nowhere.

[porkcutletbowl44]

The Man You Need

Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader

Tags!: 🔞NSFW. MDNI. unprotected p in v sex(wrap it in foil before you check her oil), dirty talk, creampie, PWP, Insomnia!reader, brief mention of misogyny, semi-public sex, shower sex, reader is also kinda bratty

(Ik y'all are only here for the porn that's why the plot dies quick lmao)

A big thank you to the 200 followers and counting 🫶🏻🩷

• · ────── ·🔞🖤🔞· ────── · •

"Y'look knackered, 'aven't been sleepin' enough?"

Simon's voice forces you to stop staring at the stale scones under the heat lamp, yanking you out of that day dream of falling face first into the breakfast line to get real sleep.

"Just the usual insomnia," you reminded. "What plans do you have today?" You asked, gatherthering the last of your breakfast.

His long strides effortlessly keeping up with your shorter ones. He towers over you as you both approach the table where you both sat normally.

"Just the usual, trainin' new recruits." He answers in the same manner as you, he sits down opposite you. He stretches his long legs out under the table, his calves brushing yours.

His eyes fixed on you like little bugs on your skin, taking in every detail of your face.

"'ow long has it been since y'last slept through a night?" He asks gruffly.

"Saturday." You answered.

His jaw clenches momentarily behind the thin fabric of his balaclava, and his shoulders stiffen.

"Y'mean to tell me its been three days an' you're still functioning?" He retorts, skepticism written on his face. He knows you, and he knows how bad your insomnia gets.

"Yeah. Doesn't help when we have to wake up early."

Simon lets out a frustrated sigh, running a gloved hand over his face.

"You can't survive on 2 or 3 hours o' sleep a day. Y'know you're pushin' it too far. You're going to collapse soon if y'don't get your sleep under control."

He's always stern when he speaks, but with you it's like he's scolding you like a child who doesn't know any better.

You do know better; you've busted your ass to get where you are. You've had to deal with everything in the book to fight to where you are now in the military, and he knows that, he's been there the majority of the time and yet he nags you everyday about something.

"Well I'm trying, Si. Melatonin doesn't work and it gives me bad headaches." You mumbled irritably.

"Doesn't work, eh? An' I can see those bags under your eyes. Headaches too..." He rubs his chin as he looks at you, his eyes calculating. "What 'ave you tried so far, love? I've told you to keep me updated."

"The sleepy tea worked for a little bit, and then it didn't. I tried running before bed, no screen time, benadryl..."

Simon grunts and leans back in his chair, listening to you list all the things you've already tried and don't work, his frustration only seems to grow with this situation— or you?

"Bloody hell. You've tried everythin', 'aven't you? Nothin' seems to work, it's as if your body just won't shut down."

Sometimes this leads to the same thing over and over again, the 'you have to sleep' or, 'why do you do this to yourself?'. You just smile and nod, because yes, you can 100% control this.

"Well, sometimes another thing works, but it's just too much of a hassle." You shrugged, sipping some vitamin water.

Simon's brows furrow as he hears your muttered words. He leans forward, his gaze intense.

"What 'other things?'"

You sometimes keep things from him, and he won't let you get away with it this time. Or, there's the other times you are blunt, disgustingly blunt. You live with a bunch of men, who do not have a filter, that alone has killed yours out of existence.

You blink, fidgeting in place. "Ahem. Me time?"

He's not dense, he knows exactly what you mean and he's not one to back down from anything that usually makes normal people squeamish or "grossed out".

"An" 'ow is it 'too much o' a hassle exactly?" He asks, a slight raise in an eyebrow.

"My hand cramps." You rolled your eyes, it was obvious, who doesn't have that problem sometimes?

He crosses his arms over his broad chest with a humored look, your honesty can be either amusing or completely looked over.

"Your hand cramps, you say? Thas a hell o' a reason."

He chuckles softly, his eyes raking over you, taking in the sight before him. His gaze is heated. Your face can feel it, it's warm, it's like he's putting your face close to a bonfire with that look. For months you two do this... This thing that borders flirty and suggestive but at the same time it doesn't quite feel like either.

"Yeah. Thinking about going down to the store."

His eyes snap up, crossed arms going lose from his chest. He's not stupid; he knows what "going down to the store" means.

"You're talkin' about goin' to get one o' those things." His voice is low, but not quite harsh. He's almost hesitant to say it out loud, but he says it with so much disdain.

You deadpan. "A vibrator, Simon. A vibrator."

The tops of his cheeks flush red beneath his balaclava at your blunt response. You giggle a little, not expecting such a reaction from Lieutenant Ghost. What's the big deal? Did guys not talk about fleshlights? Brand recommendations?

He clears his throat before speaking, a little husky and quiet. No way, are you embarrassing him with girl stuff?

"Y-yeah. One o' those." He stutters, his usual confidence wavering. "Yes, thank you, love. I realize that. I just..." He trailed off, blinking a few times.

"Y'can't be serious. You're goin' to use a toy instead o' asking for help?"

It's like he can't believe you just said that out loud, in a busy mess hall no less. This is what it took? Talking about sex toys to make him awkward?

"Uhm...yeah? I less you have a boyfriend in your pocket waiting for me." you retort.

And yikes, he didn't seem to like that. His eyes squint, probably crinkle in his nose. He paused, leaning forward in his seat, his eyes studying your face closely.

"You don't seriously think y'need a toy instead o' just asking me, do you?"

Why does he sound hurt??

Your stomach does a backflip off your intestines and into a hot tub of oil. He did not just say that. You must be asleep, yes, you must be dreaming.

You giggled, "Good one."

Simon gives a low grumble, his jaw flexing and grinding. This apparently wasn't a laughing matter to him. Is he serious? Your tongue works over your teeth, trying your absolute hardest to be so cool, nonchalant, you don't care you don't care—

"'M not jokin', love. You don't honestly think that a toy would be better than the real thing, do you?"

Of course it's not fucking better. But what choices did you have? Sleep with one of your teammates and then get a dishonorable discharge? Make things awkward in your team?

"Oh... Considering it's illegal to have relationships, yes. A vibrator won't leave me, cheat on me, break my heart... It's perfect." You shrugged— it was for the best anyways.

He knew the rules just as much as you did. And he followed them religiously. What the hell is going on? Why would he just suggest that out of the blue?

"Y'think you'd be better off with a piece o' silicone than takin' the chance on me?"

You pinch your thigh under the table. Nope. You're still here in mess hall, in front of your now cold breakfast, and Simon is still trying to convince you to fuck him.

"Y'wouldn't be satisfied with that thing. You'd get bored, love..." He sounds so sure, and jealous when he speaks of the horrible, terrible, vibrator.

"How would you know?" You quired quickly.

Just to double check. Maybe the sleep deprivation was catching up.

"I know 'cause I know you. You'd get tired o' that thing eventually, you'd want somethin' real."

He paused for a moment, his eyes lidding, darkening, consuming.

"You'd want someone to touch you, love. Not some piece o' plastic an' silicone."

"Yeah, like I'd ever get that," you barked out a laugh out of sheer nerves.

He didn't like that anymore than your last dismissive reply, you may just be convinced about now. So, cue to you squeezing your thighs together in your seat. Acting completely normal. Because everything about this is so normal; your coworker just telling you to come to him for a good fuck to be able to sleep.

"What do y'mean by that? 'ow can you say that with a straight face? Y'don't think anyone would want to touch you? Let y'know 'ow loved you are?" He grumbled, his hands clenching on top of the table.

"Y'think you're so undesirable that nobody would want you? Bloody hell..." He shakes his head.

"Simon, take a look at me." You licked your lips to prevent a shout of frustration, yikes, you do need sleep.

Simon's eyes fly over your form, from head to toe. He took his time studying you, his eyes lingering over the curves of your body, the way your hair fell over your face. There isn't a damn thing wrong with the way you look.

"'M lookin' at ya, love. An' what I see is perfection. So tell me again... what's your damn point?"

Oh, good God. It's real. But this is better than you imagined; you want to make him work for it. All because it's hotter to get a man to work for something, get all riled up.

"What do you see? A cutesy little girly girl? A nice little housewife for a big strong man?" You asked sarcastically.

"I see a woman who's strong, capable, an' bloody beautiful." He glares, offended you'd even think about saying that, "You're not some dainty damsel in distress, you're a force to be reckoned with..."

"My point exactly. Men don't want a chick that's more man than them." You rolled your eyes at just mentioning the delicacy of fragile masculinity these days.

Simon grunted and rolled his eyes, his irritation building into something you might not want to poke at.

"Thas where you're wrong, love." He points his spoon at you. "Not all men are as narrow-minded as y'think. I know damn well I want a woman like you. Strong, feisty, sexy."

"My point, Simon! I don't want some fucking pussy, I want someone whose more man than me." You huff.

You're not entirely implying this trait about him... You just wanna see him work for it.

"You're not goin' to find that in a bloody toy, love. You're lookin' in the wrong place if y'think some plastic will make y'feel better. Y'want a man? You already 'ave a man."

He was right there, willing to give you what you needed. But how far will he go?

"Yeah but... I want something real, too." You tried to explain.

This flirting back and forth was something you enjoyed; but what would it mean in the long run?

"Exactly." He huffed a bit exasperated. "Y'want somethin' real. Somethin' I can give you."

He shifted in his seat, leaning closer to you, his eyes deep and intense.

"Y'don't need a toy, love. You 'ave me. 'M real, an' I want you. Don't settle for some piece o' plastic when y'know damn well what you really want."

Okay then, schizophrenic, game on.

"I want someone stronger than me, someone to give me a reason to act like a woman," You snorted.

You were infuriating at times.

"An' y'think I can't give ya that? Y'think I can't make y'feel like a woman? Like a fuckin' queen?" That retort comes out low, accusing. "I can definitely make y'feel like a woman. Y'don't need someone stronger than you, love. Y'just need me."

Nail on the head with that one; yet how far can you take it? You lean between your elbows, squeezing your tits together to make you look as enticing as possible.

"Do I?" You purr.

Simon freezes in time, his plastic spoon almost falling away from his thick fingers. His hand does scramble for it to his credit but he almost dumps his bowl in the process. You hear him clear his throat roughly, Adams apple bobbing at the hem of his mask before it disappears. You bite your lip with a challenging gaze, would he take it?

"Yes," He replied firmly to cover up his hesitation, "Y'need me, love. Y'just don't know it yet. I can make y'feel things no toy ever could. Think y'need a man t'make you feel like a woman? I can do that, an' I will happily."

You smirk, "You're gonna have to try harder than that,"

"Oh, I will, love. You're just askin' for a challenge, aren't you?"

"You afraid to take it?" You shot back slyly.

He was anything but afraid with that look. He was up for the challenge, and you know he's gonna prove it.

"Baby, 'm not afraid o' anythin' when it comes to you," he replied, his voice low and husky. "As long as you can take what I can give you."

He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes searing into yours. There was danger in his gaze, it only made it all the more delicious.

"Y'think you can 'andle me, love? Y'think you're ready for what I can do t'you?"

"Only if you can prove it." You grin.

Ghost let out a low growl, his eyes darkening at your challenging tone. He thrived on it, it only fueling his drive to prove himself to you.

"Oh, I'll prove it, love. I'll prove it again an' again until y'can't even think straight."

"No, no, prove you're more man than me." You corrected easily.

"Y'want to know why 'm more o' a man than you? I can make y'feel things you 'aven't even imagined before. I'll 'ave you beggin' f'me, addicted t'me."

"I'll be waiting, then." You set the challenge in stone. This was it.

The bear has been poked enough. He was on a mission now.

"You'll be beggin' f'me before the night's over." He boasts smoothly, a promise and a warning all in one.

"If I get a good night's sleep I'll consider keeping you,"

You were maddening, and he both loved and hated the way you pushed his buttons. It was all in good heart; for the most part.

"You're already keepin' me, love. Y'just don't know it yet."

You bite your lip, taking a quick survey of the area before replying. This was getting too good to be true.

"Don't disappoint then, we have..." You glance at your watch, humming, "six hours until lights out."

"Thas more than enough time." He grunts, all smug and cocky behind his mask.

Step one, getting recruit work out of the way. It's boring as fuck, mostly watching the Lieutenant scare the absolute piss out of the fresh meat.

Simon was barking orders left and right, ruthless to the soldiers in training. Almost as ruthless as the sun beating down on them.

You abandoned your spot in the shade, clip board in hand. You balance two water bottles on the wooden board as you approach to offer a beverage.

"Thanks," he grumbles, his eyes darting around to ensure no one witnessed the small gesture just like you.

He took the offered water, downing half the bottle in one go and adjusting his mask back in place. You drag your pin down the clip board to check off what's already done.

"Forty laps?"

"Forty laps."

Simon confirmed with a gruff nod, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment before turning back to the recruits. Despite the challenging heat, he refused to end the training drills early no matter how much you teased him about buying him a little extra on your toy run— Viagra.

You thought it was hilarious, him? Not so much.

"An' they better pick up the pace!" He barked, the deep baritone easily reaching the pirvates' ears.

You circle that box, "And the sixty pull ups?" You breathed a bored sigh.

Simon grunted in annoyance.

"Done."

He informed in a low grumble, his jaw working under the balaclava. It was an excessive amount, but many of the recruits wouldn't even make it halfway through. But he didn't care, he was in a mood. A horny one. When was the last time this guy got laid?

"Wasn't accepting any half-assed attempts, either."

"The rope climbing?" You tap your pen at the box.

Simon glances down at the list, eyeing the scribbles and doodles next to the ticked boxes.

"Done." He replies simply.

You could faintly hear the sound of the recruits groaning and grumbling in pain and exhaustion, you almost felt bad. It was minor flashbacks to your recruitment days, yet Simon didn't seem to have that same sympathy judging by the satisfaction in his eyes.

"Aaannnd... Combat." You hum, one last task left for training.

This was where things get interesting.

"Its last. Need to let 'em rest a bit first. Suppose they earned it."

"Generous," you comment blandly.

"Yeah, yeah. Just keep checkin' off the list. I wanna get these fuckin' recruits dismissed soon. 'M sick o' the heat."

The day dragged on painfully slowly. The heat was relentless until the rain would show up any minute, and he was more irritable than usual. Even the recruits seemed to notice his foul mood, giving him a wide berth whenever he was in their vicinity. You were starting to grow bored of his usual job of scaring the hell out of the recruits, (not so bored when sweat rolls down the thickness of his biceps and the bounce of his tits when he jogs up to the trainees to yell at them) and overall wondering when and how the fuck you're supposed to get laid at this point.

Finally, the training was over. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the compound. The recruits limped and hobbled their way to their assigned lodgings, exhausted and sore.

Simon, on the other hand, seemed like he had even more energy than usual. Despite the long, grueling day, he was somehow wired and restless. You should ask what energy drink he uses after you wrap this up. (Hint: it's the male drive to get some pussy).

As the recruits dispersed, one in particular caught your eye. He was the most arrogant and obnoxious of the bunch, strutting around like he owned the place. You and Simon had seen it countless times before, it got old fast.

"Arrogant little prick," Simon muttered irritably.

You tongue your cheek, "What? Threatened by him?"

It's a pointless taunt— Simon? Threatened? Gosh, it's so fun to get men worked up. Simon's eyes narrow at your comment, a grunt bursting out from him.

"Threatened? Me? Fuckin' hell, no." He grumbles offendedly. "I could take 'im apart within a minute. Can't stand the ones caught up in their own 'ead,"

You hum in agreement. You know for a fact you'd pay to see that one day, and Soap would be right behind you.

"You're lucky you're the most tolerable person 'ere," he adds goodnaturedly.

You backhand his shoulder lightly, "Oh, look, your best friend is coming over!"

And speak of the devil, the recruit struts over with that piece of shit arrogant smirk. Simon rolls his eyes in annoyance as he turns to face the strutting recruit.

"Great. Just what I need," The sarcasm is laid on thicker than the suspicious gravy served this morning at breakfast.

The recruit saunters over, his obnoxious confidence on full display. Simon clenches his jaw, trying to keep his temper in check.

"Sir... Do we have more extensive training available?" He asks slowly, his own ego taking a hold of his tongue.

Simon's eye twitches at the recruit's pompous tone. Extensive training, more like a request for special treatment to feed that ego.

"Extensive training?" He echos roughly, "F'you? Why?"

The recruit shrugs boredly, "I think your ways are a bit old fashioned, too easy,"

Easy, old fashioned? This cocky little bastard doesn't know the first thing about hard work. And he's about to serve himself his very own buffet of living hell from Simon. You distract yourself with the grass below your feet, taking everything you have to not laugh.

"Y'think we make things easy on you?" He sneers, taking a step closer to the recruit. "Y'think you're hot stuff, eh? Well, you're in for a rude awakening, rookie."

Your lips purse, frowning deeply to stop the smile.

"What makes y'think you deserve anythin' beyond the standard training regime, hmm? You 'aven't earned a fuckin' thing yet." He glares at the recruit, his eyes dark and intense behind his mask. "Y'get your fuckin' arse to the barracks. Your extensive training for the next month? You'll be cleanin' the bathrooms before lights out."

The recruit's smirk falters at Simon's orders. He's not used to being talked back to, much less being told what to do. But he tries to maintain his cocky attitude, not wanting to back down in front of you, maybe. Ugh, men.

"Bathroom duty? That's... a little degrading, isn't it?"

Simon chuckles darkly, his eyes dancing with amusement. This cocky bastard was really pushing his luck more than you were. You almost feel bad if it weren't so funny.

"Degrading?" he sneers. "Welcome to the military, rookie. It's not a goddamn country club. Y'think you can come 'ere, demand extra training, an' expect special treatment? This ain't a playground. You're 'ere to learn discipline, not stroke your ego."

You stifle a laugh behind your clipboard. This was too good, and all the more hot to see Simon angry.

Simon shoots a sidelong glance at you, even though he's supposed to be acting tough and intimidating, he seems to let himself crack through the lieutenant role around you.

The recruit, on the other hand, doesn't notice your amusement. He just looks sulkily at Simon, clearly not pleased with the prospect of bathroom duty.

Simon grabs the recruit roughly by the collar, the display of power and dominance making you jump in place. Simon's firm grip on the recruit's collar startles the cocky little punk, his eyes wide in surprise.

"See, this is your problem," Simon grits lowly. "Y'think you're untouchable. Y'think you're better than everyone else. But lemme tell you somethin', wanker... you're not."

The recruit stammers, eyes frozen with fear.

"Disobey your superior officer again an' I'll make sure your walls are covered in you."

He gives the recruit a rough shove, releasing his collar. The recruit stumbles back, shocked out of words.

"Consider that your final warning," Simon growls. "Now get your arse to the fuckin' barracks, rookie."

The recruit seems to shrink under Simon's intimidating aura, his cocky demeanor shattered and squashed to dust. He mumbles a half-hearted, "Yes, sir," before hurrying away.

You check your watch, "Well, today has been fun. It's too bad you only have three hours left."

Three hours left, you say? He hadn't even started yet. Because of training, of course.

"Three hours, huh?" He grumbles, eyes setting in determination. "Don't count me out yet, love. I can do a lot in three hours."

"Hurry it up, or in three hours I'll have a brand new shiny vibrator." You grin cheekily.

"You won't be needin' any damn vibrator if I 'ave anythin' to say 'bout it," he hisses. "I don't need any bloody gadgets to 'elp out."

He starts to stalk towards you, his eyes intense and focused. Your thighs squeeze together, pleased with your outcome.

"Three hours is more than enough time f'me to prove myself, love. An' you'll be beggin' before the clock strikes, guarantee ya that."

"Right," you drawl with a roll of your eyes.

He reaches up with a rough hand, grabbing your chin and lifting it so your eyes meet his.

"Y'think I can't prove myself in three hours, huh? That I need some bloody toy to 'elp me out? I promise you, love, you'll be singin' a different tune."

You giggle teasingly, biting your tongue through your smile.

"Tick tock, Simon." You singsong.

You were mocking him, challenging him, all for this purpose.

"You're playin' a dangerous game, love," he growls down at you, "Y'think you can tease an' walk away with that pretty lil smile on your face. But you're gonna find out real quick that I won't back down, even when you're being a cheeky lil minx."

You smirk dreamily, staring up at him with raw want. You kinda want him to do something extravagant, proving himself just because. When was the last time you had fun like this?

"You're pushing your luck, love," he grunts, his voice gruff with barely concealed desire. "If you keep lookin' at me like that, there ain't gonna be enough time to do everythin' I wanna do to you."

You pull from his hand, turning on your heel as you call over your shoulder,

"I'll be waiting, Si,"

You were taunting him, teasing him, with that sultry little comment and casual tone. You feel his eyes on your ass with each sway of your hips, that naked feeling let's you know he's undressing you with his eyes.

You whip out your phone to look at the time, alas, there's just no way what you want can happen. The rules, regulations, and the severe lack in privacy.

Shooting Captain a quick text for permission to leave base for an hour you head into the higher up showers for some much needed washing of the sweat collected on your body.

As you toss your towel on the bend, your phone buzzes.

'Permission granted. I'll let the team know you'll be out.'

Your heart drops to your ass as you frantically text back—

'Wait no that's not necessary!!!!!'

And then, to your horror, you get a ping in the group text.

Shit.

The team knows youre just going out, but Simon knows. Simon knows you're chickening out from the challenge.

"Fuck!" You hiss, frantically looking around the showers as if there were anything that could help you.

There's nothing. Not the gathered pubes in the moldy shower drain nobody uses, not the faded rusting lockers, not the dirty windows that nobody will ever be able to see out of no matter how much scrubbing

You're fucked.

But how fucked, do we wager? Does this mean Simon will get in his feelings and never talk to you again? Will he out you? (No, it wouldn't ever—) What if he gets revenge?... What kind of revenge?

As you stand there, panic setting in, a voice rings out from the entrance of the shower area.

"What 'appened to three hours?"

You squeak as the door slams, the deadbolt echoing through the room.

You are locked in the showers with Simon.

"What's with the sudden cold feet?" Simon grunts as he rounds the corner, closing the distance between you in slow, measured strides.

"I-I can explain—" you stammer, phone dropping on the bench next to your towel.

He stalks towards you, his steps slow and deliberate. There's a dangerous edge to his gaze that makes your heart beat even faster in your chest.

You're trapped, unable to back away, and he looms over you like a caged beast.

"Explain why you're runnin' away from the challenge you issued, love?" he drawls, stopping just a few feet away from you. "This I 'ave to 'ear."

He crosses his arms as he stands there, his eyes never leaving your face. You're in for it now, his expression seems to say.

You chuckle nervously, gesturing between the two of you, "I mean, realistically it can't ever happen—"

"Who says it can't?" He leans in, his voice dropping to a low, rough growl. "I don't care 'bout the damn regulations, love. That's not gonna stop me from 'aving you."

"Y-You are all about the rules, Si. You follow them to a T— You wouldnt—" you swallow thickly. What have you done to yourself this time.

"I usually follow the rules, yes," he concedes tauntingly, "An' right now, those rules are fuck all to me anymore."

Your tongue suddenly feels heavy in your mouth, "W-What about—"

Simon leans a forearm over your head and slouches down, his eyes darkened by lust and determination.

"What 'bout...?" he mocks, "Y'think I give a damn 'bout those old geezers with their rules right now? All I care 'bout is 'aving you, 'ere an' now."

Simon's free hand reaches up, his fingers lightly tracing your jawline. "I'll show you 'm fuckin' man enough to 'ave you."

While you are speechless, he adds for you to better understand. "It's just you an' me in 'ere."

"But—" you squeak.

Simon's hand moves quick to cup your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"No," he growls, "We don't need to follow the rules in 'ere. We don't need anyone's permission. We could be loud, we could be rough. No one would ever know."

No one... Would know.

He leans in, his lips hovering just centimeters from your ear. "Just us in 'ere. You tellin' me you'd rather 'ave some stupid fuckin' toy over a man that can fill you up all night long?" His hand slides down to your throat, holding you tenderly but firmly, "Just say yes, love."

You whimper in delight, his eyes flickering down to your shifting thighs.

"Yeah," he purrs, his hand angling your head up against the wall. "Y'know you want it. Y'want me."

You want him more than sleep. You want him more than some real fucking food.

"Y'know you don't need anythin' else but me t' fuck you stupid."

"Yes," you moan.

Simon's eyes gleam with approval, his grip on your chin tightens slightly.

"That's good fuckin' girl," he growls.

He licks your neck through the mask, chest expanding with a deep inhale that crushes you to the wall.

"Say y'want me," he demands in a gravelly whisper.

What is thinking? Why would you have to think?

"Want you s'bad," you whine.

"Fuckin' right you do," he mutters.

His other hand drifts down, slowly tracing down your body until it lands on your waist, shoving you into the shower stall. For a moment, you thought you were going to get a little groping, made a knead here and there. But no, you're just standing like a dumbass in the empty shower stall.

"Strip." He growls.

Your skin erupts with gooseflesh in the bare shower shall, his gaze unwavering as he waits for his private show. He steps closer, his own clothes still on, thick arms folding over his chest.

"Slowly," he commands, "Show me what's gonna be mine."

You pinch the hem of your cargos, and then switch to your shirt.

What the hell do you even start with?

"Trousers first," Simon instructs roughly.

He stands there, still dressed, but his eyes devouring every inch of you as you slowly pop the button.

You slowly shimmy the waist band over the swell of each hip, pushing down to your ankles. Simon's breaths grow heavier as you flick the material off your feet his eyes transfixed on the movement.

"Thas it. Bra next," he commands, velvety smooth, "Nice n' slow. I want t'see all o' you."

Bra? Bra next? Why not your shirt?

You kick the cargos away, your shirt barely covering over your panties as you unclasp the bra through your shirt and maneuver it out from one of the sleeves to hold it in the tip of your finger.

Simon's eyes zero in on your pebbled nipples and pretty panties, the thin fabric doing little to hide your curves.

"Good girl," he purrs, "Now come 'ere."

You're... You're not even done. He motions with his fingers for you to approach him, his eyes dark with need.

"Do the thing," you manage out.

"The thing?" he grunts in an enticing voice, taking a step forward as you gesture to your mouth and nose.

He reaches up and pulls the mask to his nose, revealing his lips.

"Is this what y'want, love?" he asks, running his tongue across his bottom lip.

"Yeah," you breathe as you wet your lips.

Those would taste so good. You just know it.

"Y'want to see m' mouth, huh?" he asks, a smirk playing at the corners of those now revealed lips that show his canines, a chipped tooth, his lower face in general in its scarred glory, "Y'want to see what I can do, love?"

He closes the remaining space between you in a single stride, grabbing you by the back of the neck and yanking you forward.

His free hand grips your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, his eyes filled with dark hunger that makes your pussy pulse.

His mouth descends on yours, his lips claiming yours in a fiercely possessive kiss. You moan lowly, one of your arms circling his thick waist. He's burning up, hot and sweaty under his clothes that reek of his natural musk.

One of your curious hands ventures down, squeezing at his ass. He breaks the kiss with a surprised grunt, a coy smirk.

"Naughty, that," he huffs, "But I like it. My turn,"

The world before you lunges back, his mouth descending on your neck. He sucks and bites at the sensitive skin, his teeth leaving red marks in their wake.

His hands have a rough exploration, sliding down your skin, pausing just above the waistband of your panties to slide in to the globes of your ass. You stand in your tip toes to lean into him, whimpering at his rough gropes and kneading.

His mouth continues it's path down your neck, his teeth grazing the tops of your covered tits as his hands roughly squeeze and massage your perfect ass.

"Look at you," he growls, "Squirmin' an' I haven't even started."

He pushes your ass up, looking over your shoulder to watch it bounce. His hands slide lower, pulling the elastic of your panties down slightly, "Look at this," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "You're fuckin' soaked through."

And he's right.

You squeeze your thighs, trying to rid that sticky mess thats unbearably uncomfortable. He tuts, delivering a slap to your ass.

"Tryin' to get yourself off, love?" he purrs, his fingers tracing along the edge of your panties.

You can't tell the difference between the onyx color from his pupils, you can hardly look at his eyes when his mouth is right there and his own tits are in your face. God, you want to nibble on those chapped lips, feel those fat biceps squeeze you as his hips snap on the backs of your thighs—

He backs you up, his hard cock pressing against you through his jeans, "Y'want it?"

"Yes!" You mewl.

"Thas what I like to 'ear, love," he husks, his fingers playing with the crotch of your panties. "Get that shirt off, wanna see those pretty tits finally."

You squirm, pulling your shirt up and off and throwing it somewhere that doesn't matter right now.

"Perfect," he rasps, his hand reaching up to cup your breast, "These are fuckin' nice,"

You arch, eyes rolling at the nice kneading to your sore flesh of being stuck in a bra all day. To your displeasure, freezing water sprays down your body and your uncomfortable groan bounces off the walls until the water warms up.

He's still fully dressed though, his clothes sticking to his muscular frame, accentuating every hard muscle and scar.

"Shower's a bit shitty," he says, his eyes raking your body. "But we don't 'ave to wait for that to get goin'."

Your panties have disappeared into his pocket, you follow the way his fingers shove it in— Your eyes divert to that large bulge behind the zipper.

"I know what y'want," he grunts, his hand moving to the belt and zipper.

Simon pulls down his zipper, the metal teeth parting revealing a black pair of boxers, which does little to hide the already impressive outline of his hard cock nudging up against the waist band.

He pushes his jeans down his thick thighs, his body still clothed in a tight black shirt and underwear drenched in water.

Your saliva glands burn at the sight of his happy trail plunging past the waist band, eyeing that nice size you only got a little feel of on your leg—

"Want a closer look?" he purrs, his hand slowly palming the base of his covered cock, precum bleeding out from the thin fabric on his thigh.

You make a face at him, your face burning with embarrassment

"What's the matter, love? You shy now?" he says with a smirk, his hand continuing to slowly palm and squeeze, "Y'were all full o' attitude today."

His head tilts mockingly, stroking himself for you, enticing you. Pinch yourself again, this might actually be a dream—

"Go on," he rasps, "Feel me."

You follow a trail of water down to his shirt clinging to his body, his drenched happy trail, and then the outline of his cock.

With one hand, you tug the waist band forward, clenching as he sucks in a breath that makes his abs tense.

He leans forward, his mouth hovering over your ear, "Go on," he husks, "Take it out, love."

He leans back, watching you intently, waiting for you to do as told. Maybe you do like to be told what to do in this context. With your other, you pull him free with your eager hand.

He moans, he fucking moans.

"Thas it, love," he husks out, his voice a little strangled. "Feel me up."

His hands rest on the wall behind you, caging you in. He hips rock into your hand, each stroke of your fist pulling the foreskin back.

"You're so big," you whimper.

Simon lets out a deep, gravelly groan as you speak. It just might be the hottest sound you've ever heard. Right next to the time he was lifting heavy dumbbells, letting all those grunts and growls loose.

He looks down at you, his gaze burning with lust and need, "You want it, baby?" he asks, his hips grinding against your hand harder, "Want this big dick?"

"Want it so bad, Si," you mumbled against his lips, your tongue darting out to lick his teeth.

his mouth claiming yours in a rough, passionate kiss. His tongue immediately tangles with yours, his teeth biting and tugging at your lower lip.

"I know you do," he grunts, his tongue slipping past your lips to slide against yours before speaking again, "You've been eye-fucking me all afternoon, love."

His hands start to wander along your body, mapping your curves with rough caresses,

"You're gonna get it," he husks.

One of his hands moves down to your hip as he moves lower, his mouth following the curve of your throat, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses and bites.

"Want m'cock in that pretty pussy? Or your mouth?"

Where do you fucking think, smart guy?

"In me, inside me, please," you mewl.

His massive paws squeeze your hips to spin you around, planting your hands against the wall.

"Bend over," he growls, his eyes roaming over your body, "'M gonna give you what y'want."

His hands on your hips start to maneuver your body, making you arch your back and hips out.

He runs a hand up your spine, "So pretty," he murmurs as he takes in the sight of your body bent and on display for him.

He steps up behind you, his body flush against your back, his clothes still fucking on and wet and sticking to your body.

"Gonna fill ya up nice n' good," he sucks on his teeth with a low growl, "Been thinkin' o' me all day 'aven't you?"

His hips rock against your ass slowly, his bare cock rubbing on your supple skin.

His hands massage your ass, kneading and squeezing the flesh as you lean on your forearms, moaning as the blunt head notches to your dripping slit.

"Want m'hands all over you," Simon growls against your flesh, his rough palms skimming over your curves, "Mm, relax, yeah? Nice n' easy— Yeah, thas a good girl,"

His hips do a slow, deliberate grind, rocking into you to make room for him as he moves his lips along the curve of your shoulder.

There's slow shallow thrusts, working you open until he takes a deep stroke down to the base. Fuck, he's thick all over, heavy even inside your walls. If you had the brain power, you'd reach below and hold his balls.

"You're so damn gorgeous," he husks darkly, his breath hot against your skin, "I wanted this since I first saw you."

He's so intense he's burning a hole through you with his gaze, his hands still exploring your body, worshiping every curve, every dip, every inch of you.

His hands slide down to the front of your thighs, coaxing your legs further apart, opening you up for him.

"I knew I wanted you the moment you walked in," he breathes, "I knew you'd feel amazing under my hands."

Your cheek presses into the shower wall with a strangled moan,

"S'deep,"

Simon growls at your moan and pushes into you with more force, his hands squeezing your ass to yank you back, spearing you over and over on his cock.

"Fuckin' knew you'd feel s'tight an' good,"

His hand presses on your lower tummy, mouth hot and panting against your shoulder blade. He grabs the back of your hand, his fingers threading through yours and pressing it against the wall.

"Take it, take—this—cock,"

You choke out a moan, slumping against the wall, "please, so close, so close—"

"You gonna come f'me, huh?" he asks, his voice raw and breathless.

It's a lovely sound on him.

"Yes, please, wanna come, haven't came this fast before—" you beg.

He lets out a ragged, possessive growl at your words, his hips piston roughly against your ass, full balls swinging on your clit over and over.

"Come on, pet," he snarls, deft fingers twirling tight circles around your clit.

You whimper loudly, hands sliding down the slick shower walls, hips straining for him as you come hard with a broken mewl.

"That's it, fuck—"

He breaks off in a gutteral moan, hips stilling as he spills inside you. Simon catches you as your legs buckle out from under you, scooping you up against his chest to lean you back against the wall.

You don't even know what just happened in the span of 5 minutes. He's panting hard, his heart pounding against your back.

"Fuck," he growls, burying his face in the crook of your neck, "Fuckin' perfect, love,"

You smile lazily back at him, pawing at his shoulders to pull him in a soft languid kiss, his lips claiming yours in soft, sweet caresses. He melts against your touch, the fierce need from earlier receding now that you're sated. He returns your lazy kiss, his hands gently roaming up and down your back.

"Bloody hell," he mutters against your lips, "Fuckin' perfect, woman." He nips at your neck, "'M not done yet."

Looks like he is the cure to your sleeping problem.

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

I asked a few of my favorite hazbin writers this and only one answered and it was ok but I felt like it could have been expanded on so here's my take

Vox, Val, Alastor, and Lucifer react to your love language being baking/cooking

Vox

(Starting with him because he's the one thaf inspired this).

Vox came from the 50s and even though I firmly believe he is past all the ingrained gender roles and homophobia I think he still has some internalized misogyny. He wants to be viewed as the man in the relationship, the breadwinner, the provider. He can cook for himself but it's pretty basic food (except steak. Like every other man since the invention of the grill how to bbq has been hardwired into his brain. If his partner also grills ya'll fight over whose turn to cook out it is)

(Unrelated but as a lesbian who loves to grill, and is the designated grill bro, butch lesbians or cookout lesbians are some of Vox's favorite type of gays to chill with)

I firmly believe that's why even though he's a sub, it's so hard and would take time and trust to get him to let you top and enjoy it. He's so worried people will find out and judge him, that you'll judge him. His ego can be very fragile.

Especially if we go with the Vox used to be a cult leader theory. His power, image, and success are linked to his ability to appear in control. To appear to have all the answers and take responsibility. It's going to take a lot of time and patience to unravel all that and help him seperate his personal and professional image.

That being said, a partner who uses acts of service as a love language is perfect for him. He's a busy man, so he tends to be a gift giver type. The gifts are always well thought out and expensive. He wants it to be something you need, want, can get a lot of enjoyment from, and be worth the money spent, so he puts time and effort into them. Unless he's just showing off by giving you his card and telling you to go nuts.

So you taking time to make his coffee for him the way he likes, ordering lunch from his favorite places and having it sent to his office so he remembers to eat, or just texting him reminders to drink water or eat/take breaks throughout the day makes him giddy.

If you're his assistant or something, (and I believe Vox absolutely would have his partner working for him/with him), then it's even better when you take on extra work to try and help him. Organizing his schedule, sorting emails/mail, and proofreading things. Any small act you do for him, because you want to and care about him, makes his heart rate pick up.

It'll really make him overheat, glitching slightly, literal heart eyes, if he comes home after a shitty day and you're cooking for him.

His internal monologue is absolutely raving about what a good housewife you are for him, a hard working husband.

Bonus points if you cleaned too! Either way, he adores you even more now, letting you fret and coo at him, removing his jacket and tie, pouring him a drink and telling him dinner will be ready soon and you made his favorite. He's so tempted to bend you over the counter right now, but that would ruin dinner. After you guys eat though, he's having you for dessert. Man's gonna make sure you know how much he appreciates this by turning your knees to jello, good luck walking tomorrow, doll.

If you bake treats and bring them to VoxTek he's gonna brag so much. Literally the embodiment of John Mulaney's, "That's my wife!" If you bring them just for him, he's defending his treats like they're the last ones in Hell. He has literally hit Val with a fly swatter for even asking if he could have one.

(Unrelated but like, chubby vox maybe? You're cooking is too good)

Valentino

Val wishes he could cook better. He's some kind of latino, so I feel like the fact he can't cook very well is a sore spot culturally. He can make the salsa and chips and like, help with stuff, he knows how to wrap tortillas and tomales (I picture him as like Mexican or Puerto Rican but that's just cuz the town I grew up had a large Puerto Rican group).

It doesn't help that his eyesight is even more shit in Hell. He can't see what he's doing hald the time. It ruins his art hobby too. He's overall just more easily frustrated with his bad eyesight.

I don't imagine you guys dating per se. Maybe you're his sugar baby, maybe you're someone he hired to help him do stuff like clean and organize and you just sorta start doing other things to help him. (Again I'm not saying it excuses jackshit, but as someone who worked with bipolar people and people with mood disorder I kinda see the fan theory in him, either way I think all the Vees could be sort of trained to be better people, but especially Val. We already saw Vox do it.)

After all, he's usually in a much better mood if you do and that means less outbursts. The first few times you cook him something he teases you about being his housewife, tries to make it sexual. It's not really something he clocks as being an act of love because I don't think you'd realize it yourself at first. I think the more you got to see him when he wasn't stressed, lashing out, being abusive, you'd start catching feelings. ("I can fix him", delulu asses)

He loves to be in the kitchen when you cook once it starts becoming a regular thing. He can't see clearly what you're doing but the way you move around the kitchen and get what you need, even if you're an ADHD mess and do steps out of order or at random, he can tell you know what you're doing. He likes to smell the food too while it's cooking.

He will ask you to try and make some spicier/more traditional foods he grew up with, but he doesn’t remember all of the ingredients, and it just gets him more frustrated he can't tell you. If you look them up and surprise him with it it'll probably be the most genuine, human response you get from him.

He's shocked, silent, standing frozen in the penthouse as familiar smells waft around him. You present him a plate nervously, practically shaking hoping it's good enough. The first bite nearly puts him in tears. No one's done anything this nice for him? Why would you? Lowkey thinks you want something from him. It's gonna make him paranoid for a while so don't expect a verbal compliment but he eats it all.

Eventually though, one day when you're in the kitchen cooking, humming softly and swaying your hips, one set of his arms will wrap around your waist, the other reaching around you help with the salsa, or wrap a tamale, and he'll prop his chin on your head and mumble out thanks. Some praise, maybe. Would definitely tell you stories about eating these foods growing up.

It's the first step towards having an actual relationship with him.

Alastor

This man almost always insists on cooking. He isn't much of a sweet tooth either. You tell him one night you want to try cooking for him. Tell him you understand it's an activity he enjoys and relaxes too, (especially if you know it's something that reminds him of his mother), but you want to do something for him and this is one way you show you care.

It's gonna remind him of his Mama so much that if you didn't know why he loved cooking so much before you do now. He compromises. You pick the meal and gather the ingredients and do most of the cooking and he helps prep and does dishes.

He playfully critiques you the entire time about adding some spice too it or a little southern flair. Just smack him with the wooden spoon, gently. It's gonna make him laugh because his Mama used to do that when he wouldn't keep out of the sweets, or tried to add stuff to her cooking.

Once you start it becomes habit to help each other in the kitchen every night, trading off who cooks and who preps and does dishes.

If you do find baked goods he likes that aren't too sweet and send them to him as snacks, especially to Overlord meetings, he's so fucking obnoxious about his sweet little doe (doesn't matter if you are one or not) and how they spoil him. Especially rubs it in Vox's face (not him whining to his partner so they send him with treats too so he can also brag).

Only shares with Charlie, Rosie, Niffty, and sometimes Zestiel. If he's feeling generous, Husk can have a bite.

Low-key also has a thing for his partner behaving domestically even if he isn't exactly invested in traditional marriage.

Favorite activity though is dancing with you in the kitchen to jazz while dinner cooks, holding you close, in his room usually, so he can hear the sounds of the bayou. If he closes his eyes he can pretend this is how his life went and that his Mama is in the corner or sitting in her chair, watching him, happy to see him find someone.

He will literally kiss Vox willingly before admitting that last part though.

Lucifer

It's not that he can't cook, it's just....it's easier to just snap his fingers and make food appear. He's been in a depressed slump for decades man, he's lived off of the 'want food, no cook, only eat' mindset.

When you come into his life it's a complete overhaul. Despite what issues you have yourself you can recognize someone in worse state than you and immediately categorize and prioritize. First thing first, get this man's duck collection/obsession organized, thinned out, and under control.

Second, help him work through his issues with Lillith and Charlie. Encourage therapy, be a mediator between him and Charlie (and trust me she appreciates it. She knows her dad struggles, didn't know how bad, and still feels awkward). Help him socialize more, rebuild his connection with the other sins.

Get this man a work schedule!

Then it's on to personal habits. You help him get out of bed, you're both probably a little helpless in the sleeping on time category though. Help him get a routine again to keep out of his funk. Then you start cooking for him. It just happens naturally. You enjoy cooking, you enjoy showing people you love how much you care by providing good meals.

At first he's gonna resist and tell you he can handle that, you already do so much for him. He can cook or better yet he can just make it appear and you laugh and tell him it tastes better when it's made with love. He brushes it off as a joke too, you're both just being silly and obviously you said that to get him to quit fussing. Except, unholy hell does it actually taste so much better.

Lucifer hadn’t realized how bland and unsatisfying just materializing the food was. Maybe that's because he was so depressed and uninterested in what he ate, maybe not. Either way, your cooking is so much fucking better. He actually looks forward to eating now. If he gets caught up in work or has a bad day, you make sure to always bring him something, leaving it as an offering of sorts. It almost always works and entices him to eat at least once.

You cook, he does dishes, and he will not budge on that rule. He wants to be a fair man. He occasionally boots you out to do dessert, though. Apple pie is his bitch and you've never tasted one as good as his. He also makes good pancakes and some absolutely orgasmic angel's food cake.

Ironicall, devil's food cake is one of your go to recipes. Sometimes you both make a cake and take it to events just to watch people get confused as fuck when it's revealed the literal Devil did not make the devil's food cake.

Everyime you're in the kitchen together it's a disaster, you're both to silly and chaotic. You were making noodles one time and he threw flour at you so you smacked him with the noodle you were holding, leaving a line of flour and a speck of dough against his cheek. From there it escalates. It happens every time. Making cakes together, you're smashing frosting on each other. Making cookies, you're fighting each other to stop eating cookie dough.

Once, after you get fed up with him stealing her spatula to lick the chocolate off of, hovering above you with his wings, you pout and bat your eyes, asking him sweetly to please give it back. He swoops down in front of you, booping your nose to smear chocolate on it and leaning in to kiss you, letting you have a taste of the chocolate batter you were mixing for brownies. While his tongue is in your mouth, drunk off the taste of you and chocolate you smash an egg over his head and let out a triumphant cheer, snatching back your spatula.

He's so stunned his wings disappear and he drops the last few inches to the ground while you cackle. His heart is pounding, his ears are ringing, and his chest feels like it's gonna explode. His eyes are literal sparkles. He hasn't felt this much joy, wonder, and love since Charlie was born. It feels like witnessing creation all over again, of the breathlessness he felt when he first saw Lillith.

You're laughter stops when you realize he's just staring at you awestruck and you smile, asking if he's ok.

"For once...yeah..Yes. I'm ok." He responds, genuinely. You kiss his cheek and resume baking. He watches you from the counter now, dreamily, thinking about how he's gonna marry you someday.

[korkorali]

The Misogyny of It All

So a lot of Della Duck Discourse is rehashed all the time, points are made again and again, but one thing that I almost never see people defend -and conversely, see people attack all the time- is The Line.

You know what I'm talking about. The Line from Glomtales.

"Your plans, your schemes, they only lead to bad things for your family. If you want to be a part of this family, you've gotta stop."

That one.

Now, what exactly Della was trying to get across with that line is a whole other can of worms that deserves its own post (basically she -and also the writers- horribly failed her Speech check).

What we're going over here is how that mimics a certain line from the last season, said by a parental figure to a child, that gets so much less flack. That, in fact, often gets paraded around as 'an interesting twist on a character.'

"You are not family!"

I have never seen people attack this line with the same amount of vitriol as they attack Della's, which is funny when they're the exact same line.

Actually, not even that- Scrooge's is worse.

It's more direct, it's literally yelled at Webby, it doesn't even attempt to address the issue Scrooge had (Webby blaming him for what happened to Della) and instead just straight-up attacks her as a person.

Now, to be fully honest- I like this line! I do genuinely think it's an interesting route for Scrooge to take, and is quite realistic to the grumpy old bastard. It's just funny that nobody ever comes to Webby's defense the same way they do for Louie.

Because the thing is- between Webby and Louie, one of these two has genuine, canonical issues with feeling like they're not a part of the family, like they're an outsider amongst those they love the most, like they don't belong.

And it's not Louie.

It is a consistent part of Webby's characterization that she feels like she doesn't belong. This gets touched on in all three seasons (and honestly, it could be argued that it gets worse after this moment).

Conversely, that just is not a part of Louie's canonical characterization. Even in the first episode of season 2, the one where Louie gets the closest to an 'I don't belong in this family' moment, it's less 'I don't belong here' and more 'fuck me I am terrible at adventuring'. And! It gets resolved in that episode!

(Of course, there is absolutely something to be said for how it's resolved- specifically by Scrooge encouraging him to be a scheming little bastard, which then thusly becomes the thing that threatens his family the most. Which would, logically, be a pretty big blow to his self-esteem. This isn't what I'm here to discuss right now but it is genuinely interesting.)

Louie never really shows an issue with feeling like he doesn't belong in his family. He shows a disconnect with his family at times, but in canon that never really evolves into a full-blown feeling of displacement. It does get close in Glomtales, but never quite reaches it.

So it's 'interesting' (read: not interesting) that Scrooge's fuckup here gets brushed away pretty easily. A lot of the time the line just straight-up isn't addressed, and when it is, often times it's about how "Oh he apologized to Webby offscreen, obviously."

Which.

Not he did not.

I mean, let me be clear: I don't mind it when that's the answer. It works for me to just brush it away if it's not meant to be the focus...

But Scrooge almost certainly didn't apologize for it.

As 'New Gods on the Block!' Showed us, Scrooge is downright awful at realizing when his actions have hurt people.

More likely than not, Scrooge would just assume that everything is fine and would avoid bringing it up at all costs because he'd feel awkward about it. Because he is, very importantly, not good at talking about things he doesn't want to talk about.

So why is it that Louie is always the one feeling like he doesn't belong? Why is it Della who is always a terrible parent for what she's said? Why are Webby's feelings of disconnect never really given the same gravity as Louie's? Why is Scrooge's blunder let off the hook super easily?

It just feels silly to me.

And, well.

Kinda like the fact that, since Scrooge is a guy and Webby's a girl, and Della is a woman and Louie's a boy, has something to do with it.

I'll happily give the benefit of the doubt and assume it's not deliberate, but quite frankly it is a double standard.

I think that people would be less upset with the Della Duck Discourse if Scrooge was held in a similarly critical position over what he's said and done. If it was acknowledged that Della isn't uniquely awful in what she says and does, and that a lot of the others have fucked up in extremely similar ways.

(I mean for fuck's sake, everybody goes on and on about how Della left her kids for ten years -which, for the record, wasn't what she wanted to do- but nobody ever criticizes Donald for taking the kids away from their family and never talking to them about Della- which is something he actively and deliberately chose to do)

TL;DR: The fact that Della gets intensely criticized for what she's said and done, but Donald and Scrooge are conversely celebrated as 'interesting' and 'complex' for what they've said and done, even when it brings harm to the kids, is a blatant double-standard. And if you don't think that this double-standard is bad or wrong for existing (or even that it Doesn't Actually Exist), instead of immediately claiming that it's a non-issue, maybe try to look inward and figure out why you really think that is.

[jackiepackiee]

Hello! If you could consider: I was wondering how Tanjiro, Sanemi, and Mitsuri would react when their s/o answers the man vs bear question with bear? Maybe little hcs, or mini drabbles?

Have a lovely day/night!!

You literally read my mind I was thinking of this the other night

𝒟𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝒮𝓁𝒶𝓎𝑒𝓇 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒

𝑀𝒶𝓃 𝒱𝒮 𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓇

𝒲/ 𝒯𝒶𝓃𝒿𝒾𝓇𝑜, 𝑀𝒾𝓉𝓈𝓊𝓇𝒾, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒶𝓃𝑒𝓂𝒾

𝒯𝒶𝓃𝒿𝒾𝓇𝑜

The topic is pretty unfamiliar to him at first

He understands and knows about misogyny, but growing up with such a loving family in the secluded woods of a nice town didn’t expose him to much

Being surrounded by good hasn’t shown him much of what people can really be like, especially humans and not demons

But this boy is willing to listen!

Now he will defend you with. His. Life.

And that includes your opinions (unless they are obviously immoral)

But when he firsts hears it he’ll be confused

“A… bear? Why would you be with a bear?”

He makes that silly face he has when he’s confused

Then he starts to understand the more serious aspects of the discussion

He wants to know everything so expect a whole lot of questions

“Which man? I can’t pick? Oh well I don’t want it to be random.”

After he gets an understanding know he’ll be more aware of you and Nezuko.

On the lookout for creepy looks or comments

Overall 8.5/10, he supports you fully with your opinion but he’s not fully up to date on the topic

𝑀𝒾𝓉𝓈𝓊𝓇𝒾

Mistsuri is sad when she hears this question

Why would you ever have to be afraid of a man or a bear when you have her to protect you?!

She’d defend you from any man, no matter the cost

And probably become friends with the bear like a Disney princess

Now she definitely understands

Being a very beautiful woman she’s been through a lot

And while it might not show in her bubbly personality, she does often get uncomfortable with men and their advances

Only really being used to either complete rejection by possible marriages or creepy injuries by strangers

She has her own input as well

“Well I think you’re right! The bear is also way cuter!”

This is her way of cheering you up, making silly comments

Because she’s well aware of how disheartening the topic can be

And sees how it brings you down to have to think you can’t trust half the worlds population

And if anyone tries to disagree with you?

Mitsuri is no yeller but she sure is fierce

10/10, she understands completely and cheers you up after the depressing discussion topic!

𝒮𝒶𝓃𝑒𝓂𝒾

He HATES the idea that this even has to be a debate

He truly and honestly believes woman should be safe and respected

And the fact that his lover would rather be with a wild animal than a man? It’s disgusting to him that you would ever feel so unsafe

He’s not mad at you at all

But everything he feels he feels 100% so his support of your opinion is probably more intense their your original thought

You’d think he’s the one who brought it up in the first place with his passion for his opinion

Going off your given fear from the psych question, he becomes more protective

Now he is well aware of how unfairly woman are treated, being raised the way he was

And he respects their power and perseverance more than anyone else in the corps

The fact that you feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable from the idea of a male stranger has him subconsciously keeping you at his side in public and defending you louder than he berates a demon

You don’t have to teach him anything about woman’s respect and safety

While he may be cranky, it’s all equal lol

He’s not rude to people because of their gender, he’s just that way (not to you obviously)

11/10, he’s such a big defender of your opinion that he cares more than you do!

[genderkoolaid]

Hi. You always post a lot of info so I'm wondering if you might be able to help me. Is there a difference between radfems and TERFs? Are they both bad? If so, why are they bad? Are there any dog whistles to look out for when it comes to these groups? Please ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable. I've seen a lot of people pointing out that they're bad, but never really saying why. I want to make sure I follow intersectional feminism and not those groups.

Radical feminism is the name of a branch of feminism. It originally got its name because it advocated for extreme changes to society to address female oppression, but developed into a specific worldview which I (off the top of my head) would define by certain traits:

Oppositional sexism. Men and women (or "males" and "females") are fundamentally opposed. Oftentimes this is bioessentialist, arguing that this opposite comes from biology, but it may also be framed as a political necessity; a radfem might argue that gender and sex are fake BUT we need male vs female as political identities in order to identify our "allies" and "enemies". Regardless, males and females are physically distinct and political enemies. You can tell a man from a woman, either from their body or their behavior, the two categories cannot overlap, and no other gender/sex-labels are relevant.

Fatalistic perspectives on patriarchy. Not only are males and females opposed, but this cannot be changed. This may be bioessentialist (the opposition comes from something in our nature, which cannot change) or gender-essentialist (the opposition comes from socialization which occurs as a child due to outside pressure and/or internal gender identity, and cannot change.) Focus is not placed on an ideal future where men and women are equals and social partners. Instead, there is a sense that there is no way to truly have a society with men and women where males do not oppress females, or try to. Sometimes this is more implicit and other times you have people who explicitly believe in creating & enforcing female-only societies.

Misogyny as the source of all oppression, or at least the most important & the one people should identity themselves as before anything else. Those who call themselves intersectional generally only really care about other issues to the extent that they affect women in some way. Part of the downfall of the original radical feminists was the fact that the dominant groups were upper-class white women, who ignored racism and classism and silenced poor women & women of color, insisting that anti-racist and anti-classist action distracted from The Movement & that calling out other women's bigotry was anti-feminist.

A general suspicion of sexual desire and sex, often expressing itself as whorephobia (anti-sex work) and anti-kink attitudes, specifically under the argument that they are inherently misogynistic and abusive. Sex is associated with men and maleness, which again, are inherently the enemy. Sex WITH men, or with a person or object that could be construed as male, is especially bad.

The impetus to make your personal life As Feminist As Possible– "The personal is political." That isn't a bad slogan on its own (it's true), but with radical feminists it expresses itself as a high standard of Radfemmaxing. You should be celibate if you are attracted to men, or become a political lesbian, you shouldn't be masculine OR feminine (anti-butch & femme sentiment), you should reject makeup and shaving, you should cut off male relatives and even abort male fetuses– and you must identify with womanhood and femaleness, while rejecting any identity related to manhood and maleness. It's not just that you should examine your desires and choices and question why you feel the way you feel (again, this is a good thing). Radfems have the belief that they already know the correct answer to that Introspection, and if you come to any other conclusion than theirs (I like wearing makeup because it's fun, I want to be a man because it fits me), then it's taken as proof you are still brainwashed.

TERFS are trans-exclusive radfems. They believe that being trans is not real, or at least not healthy or an acceptable feminist stance. TERFs tend to use the language of "sex" and "males vs females." Many use the term "gender critical," meaning they see gender as fake and damaging, while sex is real and the proper platform for feminist analysis. I once saw a TERF define her stance as "it's not degrading because its feminine, its feminine because its degrading." They believe in things like autogynophilia and rapid onset gender dysphoria, and attribute transgender identity with sexual trauma, internalized homophobia and internalized misogyny.

TIRFs are trans inclusive. They believe that transgender feelings are natural and should be listened to and followed, and that feminism should take gender identity into account. However, they still have a "male vs female" worldview. They may argue that transgender men's internal gender feelings led them to internalize male socialization, while trans women internalized female socialization, meaning that all trans people's experiences with gender and misogyny align most with cis people who share their gender identity.

In both cases, anti-nonbinary exorsexism and intersexism are unavoidable. TERFs will label intersex people as "males/females with a disorder" and attribute nonbinary identity either to internalized misogyny (FTX) or to avoid being held accountable for male privilege (MTX). TIRFs similarly fail to acknowledge how someone's socialization can be affected by intersexism. MTX people are either trans women in denial or flamboyant cis men; FTX people are either trans men avoiding their privilege, or cis women avoiding their privilege*.

Not everyone who uses radical feminist arguments or shares the general perspective openly identified as radfem. There are many "cryptos" who purposefully obscure their political identity to spread radfem ideas in queer & feminist spaces. Other people adopt the general ideas of radical feminism without consciously identifying as one, because of cryptos and how pop feminism often adopts their flashier ideas. So it's important to understand these qualities as on a scale, with some versions being more subtle while others are explicit.

Radical feminism always reduces trans experiences (& experiences in general) to a simple, uncrossable binary, based either in gender or sex. Nuance and cros- or non-binary gender experiences are seen as anti-feminist and aligned with the patriarchy, if not part of a targeted plan to hurt feminist movements.

*the idea of "AFAB privilege" is. a thing in some people's analysis of transmisogyny.

[dollfacefantasy]

FROM MY MOUTH TO YOURS ♡

pairing: light yagami x fem!reader x naoya zen'in

summary: light yagami is not gay. he has a girlfriend. naoya zen'in is just a special case.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (m receiving), anal, fingering, threesome, mlm, misogyny, internalized homophobia, infidelity & cheating

a/n: people say bring back crossover fics... bring back silly fics... so i did... my masterpiece... picture of naoya by @ sso_s__ on twitter

Light felt as though he was looking into a funhouse mirror right now. The man that stood across from him in the alley resembled him in so many ways. The blonde hair swept into pointed bangs, the seemingly permanent scowl curled onto his lips. Even this guy's way of standing matched his own.

But there were also strong differences between them. The other man's hair ended with black tips. Shining silver studs pierced his earlobes, complimenting his pretty face. His golden eyes were even framed with inky liner.

Light could never imagine looking so stylish. He'd always relied on his natural looks to impress those around him. Never had he thought about enhancing his appearance with hair dye or jewelry or makeup. That stuff should be of no concern to a god. Light decides who lives and who dies in this world. Not if he wants his eyes to have winged tips or be double lined. Still, he felt a draw to it for some reason.

He'd been walking back to his apartment when Ryuk warned him something strange was lurking up ahead. Expecting a shinigami or at least another death note owner, he crept forward on guard. But all he found was this guy, who despite his striking appearance, seemed normal. The only thing of any significance was the way he was staring back with confusion.

"Can I help you?" Light asks, the words tasting hesitant on his tongue.

"Where am I?" the other man is quick to respond, clipped and expectant.

Light blinks at the question. "Are you lost?" he responds without answering the question.

"No," he replies so fast it seems automatic, "Well... sort of."

Strange. Light pulls out his phone and flips it open, thumb ready to dial a number. "Is there someone I could call for you?"

The other man's eyes catch on the device, examining it with a combination of curiosity and dismissal.

"What do you have that old thing for?" he scoffs. "Haven't seen one of those in a while."

A frown pulls at Light's lips. Sure, the phone wasn't the most modern model, but it wasn't that old. For someone needing help, this guy had an attitude about him.

"I know it's not like the new touch screen ones they have out now, but it works for me," he says flatly with a shrug, "Now did you have anyone who could pick you up or give you a ride home?"

Despite his attempt to move the conversation forward, the stranger still seems stuck on Light's choice of electronics. His brows have furrowed together, a gleam of bewilderment taking over the golden flecks in his irises.

"You know they have ones that can flip open with a touch screen. Why don't you get one of those? I doubt that thing can even play a video without burning a hole through your hand."

Light's eyes narrow at the other man. 

A flip phone with a touch screen? Why would this guy feel the need to tell such an inconsequential lie? Does he think I'm stupid? Was this a prank or a test of some sort? But for what? He's tested nothing but my patience so far.

He shakes his head after thinking to himself, still undecided on the motives of this pretty boy.

"I don't need it to play videos. I have a computer for that. Do you want me to call someone for you or not?" he huffs.

"It's 2018, phones are computers. Why restrict yourself?"

"Don't tell me you don't know when you are either," Light retorts.

"What?"

"It's not 2018. It's 2012."

This guy glances across the alley as if he's suspicious. Of what, Light has no clue. He wasn't the one loitering around a dark alleyway as the sun went down, getting into arguments with strangers about the year and flip phones.

He almost rolls his eyes but sighs instead. "Look, I don't have all night. I'd be happy to help you, but if you don't need anything, I really should get going."

In the first bit of uncertainty from this man, he pauses. "Could I go back with you to your apartment?"

Light's brow quirks up. "I don't think that's a good idea. I don't know you, and my girlfriend wouldn't be too happy about me bringing a stranger home."

A sneer even more severe than the one he'd given before takes over the man's features. "Please. Why would I be interested in thieving off someone carrying around a flip phone? My life is much more lavish than your own, I just don't want to wait around in an alley while I decide what to do."

Light feels his own arrogance boiling within, begging to bubble over and show itself. But before he can defend himself, this guy keeps talking.

"But, if you let your girlfriend decide who is and isn't allowed in your apartment, I doubt you'd be much help to me anyways," he says.

"She isn't the one who decides, but I don't want to deal with her getting upset because I brought some random guy home."

"You make it sound like she'd be jealous," the man smirks, a hint of teasing in his voice.

The words knock the wind out of Light. He audibly sputters. 

Why would she be jealous of a man? She knows I'm not gay. It would be pointless. Why would this guy even suggest that? Does he think I'm gay? There's no way. Is he gay? He's playing at something. He wants to rile me up so I'll let him come with me. But why? I'll go along with it just to see what he wants. If anything goes wrong, I have the piece of the death note on me. All I need for that is...

"What's your name?"

"Naoya Zen'in," he answers smoothly, "And yours?"

"Light." No way he was giving away his full name to this guy. He didn't know if he had a death note of his own on him. "I'll let you come with me, Naoya. But as soon as you get yourself together, you're gone."

"Works for me. I doubt it will take long, Light," Naoya agrees and crosses the alleyway to approach him, "Let's get going."

The two of them walk side by side in silence down the narrow pathway between buildings. Silence fills the space between them. Light continues to ruminate on the previous conversation while Naoya trots with an air of smug satisfaction about him.

"So why were you even in that alley in the first place? And why don't you know what you're going to do?" the younger man asks.

"I'm not from here. Well the city, I mean. My family lives outside it. I just have to figure out what to do about getting there," Naoya says, answering the second question first, "Last night, they had a party, and those things can get kind of wild. I don't really remember how I got out here."

A simplified explanation, Light can tell. "A party? So were you drinking or something?" he inquires further.

"Something like that... my family is different than most. You can't really understand if you're not one of us. This is probably like a test or something."

"Testing your ability to call a cab or get someone to give you a lift? Sounds pretty pointless," Light says. This guy was so casually arrogant. It rubbed some part of Light in a way he couldn't explain.

"My trip home will be farther than you might think," is all the older man says back.

Another pause comes over them. The sound of their shoes on the pavement takes the place of voices. Looking down, Light notices their paces are in sync. He lags for a moment to disrupt that.

"So you were coming home from work?" Naoya asks, picking up the slack in the conversation. From the way he speaks, it seems as if asking others about themselves is foreign to him.

"Something like that," he shrugs. A sigh leaves him. 

I should try to be social. To appear normal. If this is a test of some sort, I can't let him know he got in my head.

"I work on the Kira case. The investigation team aimed at discovering his identity," he tries again.

"Kira?" the other man asks. When Light turns and looks at him, it seems as though he had no clue what any of that meant.

"Yeah, Kira," he says. There was no way there were people who still didn't know about Kira. Not believing or agreeing was one thing. But not knowing was impossible. Not after the domination he'd achieved over the world since L's death.

"Am I supposed to know what that is?"

Light scowls and grumbles in irritation. It chips at both sides of his pride, even if he doesn't want to admit it. "Very funny."

"I told you my family lives far out of the city," Naoya defends.

"You'd have to be from another world to not know who Kira is," Light shakes his head, "Just follow along. We're almost there."

Naoya shrugs and continues on behind Light as they reach the final bit of the journey to his apartment. Thunder cracks in the cloudy sky above, indicating some rain would pour down in the coming hours. The wind was picking up too. Light pulls his jacket tighter around his frame and bounces up the stairs to his floor.

He pulls the key out of his pocket when he gets there and jams it in the lock. The door creaks open, and the both of them head inside. All the lights in the apartment are still off, meaning no one else has come home yet. Before doing anything else, Light slips his coat off and hangs it up along with his bag on the sleek rack fastened to the wall. He then drops his keys and wallet on the nearby wooden side table.

Walking further into the apartment, he clicks a light on. Once Naoya can see, he scans the place. It's much neater than he would've expected from a young couple. No belongings strewn over couches or chairs, no mail piling on the counter, or furniture that's damaged but yet to be replaced.

Light heads into the living room, so Naoya trails a few paces behind. It's modest but comfortable in here. A basic sofa and a plush set of chairs. A tv on the wall that was nice for the time. The kitchen in an alcove off to the side, and then a hallway towards the back which he assumed led to the bedroom and bathroom. The two of you even had a sliding door to a balcony on the wall opposite him. He could see the angry storm clouds brewing in the distance.

The first piece of evidence that this place is lived-in sits on the bookshelf next to the tv. Naoya's eyes linger on the object the moment he notices it. A framed photograph. Bordered by silver, Light and you. Your hand cupped beneath his jaw, fingers squishing his cheeks as you plant a kiss to his face.

"Is that your girlfriend?" he asks. He tries to sound neutral, but his natural disdain seeps through.

As if snapped out of his thoughts, Light's head whips in his direction. His eyes search for what Naoya's referring to, but once he sees, he nods. A simple gesture, no real pride in it.

"Yeah, that's her."

"She's pretty, I guess."

"Yeah."

"Have you been with her long?" Naoya asks and turns to face Light completely.

The other man sits down in one of the chairs, silently beckoning Naoya to do the same.

"Yeah, about... four years now."

"Is she the only one you've ever been with?" he asks as he sits down on the couch instead.

"Yeah. The only lasting one, anyways."

"The only one you've ever fucked?"

Light's cheeks fill with color at the question. First implying he was gay, and now this? What was this guy's problem? He sits up straighter in his chair, clearing his throat and smoothing out some wrinkles in his pants.

"That's really none of your business. You shouldn't be so blunt as a guest in someone else's home. Maybe your family never taught you that."

A grin breaks out across the other man's pretty face. "It's a reasonable assumption. You two live together. You're adults."

"Then why do you even have to ask?" Light mutters. 

He's far too good at bothering me. Maybe I should try playing by his rules. Be blunt. Take the offensive. Find out if he's up to something.

"I'm just trying to figure you out," Naoya interrupts his inner monologue, "You don't have to get all defensive about it. Even if you're a virgin, I won't judge."

"I'm not a virgin," Light says quickly, putting that to rest before it can even become a debate.

In truth, his sex life with you was a sore spot. He wasn't a virgin - that was true - but that's not to say you two have sex often. A month had passed since the last time he'd been inside you. It was never bad... he just had more important things to do. He still cared about you, in a way. He always made sure to keep you safe. But he didn't have time for romance. Not while crafting a new world.

That had been a point of contention in your relationship for years, something you were constantly getting upset about. There was no way Naoya could know that from the thirty or so minutes they'd known each other though. So why was he asking?

"What are you even trying to figure out? Shouldn't you be more worried about getting home than what me and my girlfriend do in our alone time?" Light says, a bit snappier than before.

Naoya's grin becomes more fox-like. "I'm still thinking about that. Can I not wonder about you too?" he asks. When he receives no response from Light, he continues speaking. "I just thought it would make sense if you were a virgin. But it still adds up that you've never been with anyone else. That's why you let her have such a handle on you."

The words inflame Light, but he tries to suppress any reaction. "She doesn't have a handle on me. I handle her."

"Didn't seem like it when I asked if I could come over here."

Damn it. He got me there. What am I doing? I don't have to put up with this. I don't even know this guy. Who the hell does he think he is? I could have him dead in minutes if I wanted to. He should be on his knees- I mean bowing at my feet, thanking me for sparing his life.

Light's expression grows more agitated. "Well I do. I'm sure you think you're some kind of expert on this, but I doubt you've ever even had a girlfriend before," he fires back.

And Naoya laughs. He fucking laughs at him! Unbelievable.

"You're right, I've never had a girlfriend before, but I've been with tons of girls," he says.

Light rolls his eyes so hard, they're in danger of falling out of his skull. "I can't say I don't see why they didn't stick around."

"It's not them who make the decision to not go forward. I have no interest in having a girlfriend," he says simply, "Women are only kept around because God knew that men couldn't be burdened with the curse of bearing children. So he saddled women with that duty. That's their purpose. I don't understand why we have to pretend their existence should amount to anything more."

Silence fills the room after that mini-speech. Light had never heard anyone say anything so... like that. This guy's family really must have been out there.

"That's not-"

"It's the truth. Any man who says otherwise is lying or has been tricked into believing that he should love something so wholly beneath him," he continues.

Light doesn't even know how to argue with him when he seems so confident that he's correct. How did the conversation even get to this point?

"I can see it in your eyes, you know she's not your equal," he says and gestures to the picture with you on the shelf, "You don't have the connection with her that you have with even me, and I've known you less than an hour. She can't understand you."

The words are uncomfortable in Light's ears. They wriggle their way inside his head and wrap around his brain, squeezing and trying to push their sentiment onto him. Part of him felt it was true. Oftentimes, he didn't think you could understand him. Not from lack of effort, just as if it was something you're incapable of.

You'd whine at him for attention, pressing against his side on the couch in an attempt to get him to cuddle you. And he would sometimes, but not as much as you wanted. So your rants about his lack of affection never seemed to end. You never thought to look at it from his perspective. Always jumping to the conclusion that he didn't love you, never once considering that he just wasn't a physically affectionate person.

He still felt some guilt clawing at his stomach though, like he shouldn't be thinking of you like this.

As if Naoya can read his mind, he softens his words a bit for his next point. "I'm not saying you can't care about them - though, to be clear, I don't. But maybe you do care for your girlfriend. You just don't love her. She's a companion for you. Like a pet. Something that makes you feel needed."

"It's not that," Light says, "I know I'm needed. And I'm needed for much greater things than taking care of her. We've been together for a long time. And... we just... go together. I can't just get rid of her. Plus she can be useful sometimes."

Naoya nods, his brows rising into a patronizing look. Light hates it. Despises the assumption that he's weak for not hating you. It's just the truth, even when you drive him crazy and annoy him to levels he didn't think possible, he didn't hate you. He didn't feel passionate enough about you to hate.

He wants to talk about something else though; to leave this subject behind in favor of something that would put Naoya in the hot seat and make him insecure too. It's not his proudest moment, but he swings at the lowest hanging fruit he can think of.

"So... what's with the makeup and the hair? Did your dad not give you enough attention or something?"

Naoya laughs again, the winged tips of his eyeliner crinkling in amusement. "No. I'm daddy's favorite," he says, unaffected.

It stirs envy within Light, the way he could be so casual about being prodded at. He didn't get defensive at the implication or start stuttering and tripping over words. His jaw clenches as he tries to think of something else that could get to Naoya, but the older man beats him to it.

"You don't like it? Or are you jealous?"

He got him yet a-fucking-gain because Light freezes. He stares at Naoya, unsure of what to say.

"I'm not jealous. I was just curious. Most guys don't wear that stuff."

"I'm better than most guys," he says as if it's fact, "I could show you how to do it if you want."

"W-what? I can't- There's- I don't have any of that stuff."

"Your girlfriend doesn't have any makeup?" he asks, unconvinced, "It looks like she's wearing a lot in that picture."

"She does, but-"

"Then go get it, and I'll show you how. I can tell you want to. You may not like it, but you want to know."

And that was true. He was curious if anything else. That's what he tells himself as he rises to his feet and goes into your shared room. He sees you'd made the bed this morning before you left for work.

Your bedroom was visibly divided into two sectors. Light's was pristine. Clean without clutter, well-kept and functional. The made-up bed was the only part of yours that appeared that way. Pieces of your personality littered your nightstand. A pile of clothes he'd asked you to put away sat in the corner on the chair. And then in the farthest corner stood the vanity where you did your makeup.

He creeps over there as if you'd suddenly jump out from under the bed and scold him for even thinking about it. Looking down at the dark wood of the table, he finds that you're not very organized. A few different containers sit atop the surface, holding brushes and tubes of cream. You have a holder for your hair ties and combs. A rack for your perfume. Nowhere among these things though, does he find a black eye pencil.

Opening the drawers, he scans their contents. One is dedicated to eye shadow palettes, the next is filled with lipsticks and glosses. Finally the third has a thin, black stick tucked towards the back. He grabs it and returns to the living room where Naoya is still sitting on the couch.

Light makes his way over and sits on the adjacent cushion. He shoves the product into Naoya's palm, briefly getting a feel of how smooth the other man's hand is.

"Alright, sit back," Naoya says.

"What-" Light starts before his eyes widen. 

Naoya climbs on top of him. He's straddling him. Everything in Light screams at him to push him off, shove him to the floor and rocket to his feet to kick him out of the apartment. His heart thunders in his chest, his breaths shaking before they can even leave his lungs.

He can feel the heat of the other man's body above his. This close, he can see his golden eyes in detail. They look like that of a fox's, cunning and sly.

His slender fingers curl over Light's shoulders as he adjusts. He huffs out a laugh, and Light can feel the heat of his breath fan over his face.

"Calm down. I just have to get close enough or else it'll come out crooked. This is the easiest position."

Light nods and clears his throat. He exhales slowly, allowing his awkwardness about the situation to leave him. It's fine. He's just messing with him. He'll probably leave right after this. It's just fun.

But if it's just fun, why do his eyes keep darting towards the door to see if the knob rattles with your arrival?

Naoya scoots a little closer, his pelvis pressing against Light's belly. The cap of the makeup tool pops off, and he tucks it into his pocket.

"You have nice eyes, Light. Deep brown. Pretty," Naoya mutters as his fingers come up to tilt his head back against the couch.

A loud pop of thunder echoes through the sky outside. Following it is the soft pittering of rain against the balcony. Light swallows hard. He feels an involuntary rush of heat creeping up his neck. He hopes it's not visible, but he knows his wishes haven't been granted when Naoya chuckles.

"Blushing from just that? Does she give you any attention?"

And that's the bad part. You do give him attention. Tons of it. So much he feels like he's drowning most days. You adore calling him pretty boy, to which he scowls every time and tells you to quit it. You love running your fingers through his hair and complimenting the smooth texture before he swats your limb away and rolls the eyes Naoya just praised. He wasn't pushing him away though.

The pad of his thumb sweeps over Light's cheek, assessing the space it'd be working with.

"Close your eyes," he directs, his voice the softest it's been since they met in the alley.

So he does. The rich chocolate brown becomes obscured by his delicate lids. He shudders suddenly, realizing he was in an extremely vulnerable position. He'd let this man lure him straight into a trap. If Naoya did have any ill intent, he could certainly act on it now.

But he doesn't. All that happens is the tender stroke of the pen along the edge of his eye. Naoya doesn't say anything while he works. Repeated brushes of the tip ghost along his lashes. He feels the wetness dragging up into a point in the outer corner. The other eye gets the same treatment, the process done for the second time on that lid.

"Open," the man above him purrs.

His lashes flutter up as his eyes come back into view. He's met with a wild grin across Naoya's face. His heart feels like it's stalling in his chest, like it's losing its rhythm, unable to beat right under the pressure of his gaze.

"Wow," he croons, dragging the back of his finger over Light's cheek, "You look good. Almost as good as me."

This time, the heat stirs in a different part of Light's body. He tries to shut it down immediately. Think of something else.

"Let me see how I look," he says. If he saw how goofy he looked, surely any feelings of desire would dissolve.

"You should've brought a mirror," Naoya taunts as he gets up. He grabs a decorative one off the shelf and brings it back to the sofa. Instead of taking the opportunity to return to his previous spot next to Light, he returns to his lap. He holds the mirror up in front of his own face, letting Light look at his own face staring back.

He blinks a few times, watching as his lashes flutter and accentuate the deep lines Naoya had drawn. They stretch down to his inner corners up in the direction of his temples. The urge to reject what he's seeing gnaws at him, but he knows he likes it. He can't deny it.

"So what do you think?" Naoya asks and puts the mirror behind him on the table.

"It's not bad. Better than I thought it'd look." He figures it's better to give a half-truth rather than a complete lie. Less ammunition for Naoya to tease him with.

"You shouldn't have doubted my talents," he teases, "Let me do the bottoms now."

Without leaving room for argument, he guides Light's head back to where it had been before.

"Keep your eyes open this time."

Just as before, he obeys Naoya's command. He looks at the ceiling. He didn't think he'd be able to quell the feeling between his legs if he looked into those gilded eyes. The way his pupils dart away, as if running from Naoya's own, makes his thought process obvious.

"You have such good features," he praises in a murmur, "Cute nose, defined cheeks, pouty lips. Pretty."

And with those soft words he feels himself start to fill out his pants again. He squirms, trying to adjust in preparation for the worst case scenario. Fuck, this was humiliating. The only bright spot was that Ryuk had made himself scarce as soon as Naoya climbed on top of Light, so he wasn't here to mock from the sidelines. That would be the only thing that could make this worse.

Or so Light thought.

Because then the hand of Naoya's that isn't applying eyeliner comes up to cup his jaw. His thumb rubs across Light's plush bottom lip. Back and forth, tantalizingly slow.

He chokes back a whimper, but there's no way to hide the dilation of his pupils. Naoya catches it, of course. It's obvious by the way he leans in closer.

"Your lips feel just as soft as they look," he breathes before lowering his head further and replacing his digit with his lips.

Light moans into the kiss. His eyes shut again, and he melts beneath the gentle touch. Naoya takes the invitation to move in further, scooting even closer on Light's lap. His ass lands on the other man's thighs, the heat of their bodies' melding into one.

Flicking his tongue over the seam of Light's mouth, Naoya deepens the exchange. He tastes the sweetness of his saliva, and feels the smoothness of their tongues brushing against each other. Their lips move slowly, exploring each other more than anything else.

Naoya pulls back for a second to glance down at his face. "Your girlfriend... she can't understand. None of them can. They don't know what it's like to be one of us."

Light hangs on every word, and then leans up to go in for more. Naoya reciprocates, dropping the eyeliner onto the couch to leave streaks Light would have to deal with later. Kisses turn into full blown making out. Naoya still manages to get a few words out against his mouth.

"They don't understand how to please. What feels good," he mutters as a palm slides down to palm at Light's solid bulge, "I do though."

His hips buck into the touch on instinct, a gasp leaving his throat in tandem. Fuck, that felt so good. What was happening? He wasn't gay. Light was sure of that. He liked girls. Well maybe not liked, but he was attracted to them. He had you. He didn't think about guys like this.

Even with Naoya mentioning you, the thought of you doesn't cross Light's mind until he hears the sound of your voice. The feeling of Naoya's lips on his own had him too distracted to notice the cue he'd been previously waiting for.

"What the fuck?" you cut through the fog of lust with your sharp tone.

It almost doesn't feel real, like the nonsensical part of a dream that lets you know it's just that. He turns his head to look at you, to try and explain what you walked into. His lips leave Naoya's, but that doesn't deter him from planting a few kisses on Light's throat before looking over at you too.

What to say, what to say, what to say? Fuck. He couldn't use the cliche 'it's not what it looks like.' But what even was the truth? He was cheating on you, but... it didn't feel like it? He gawks at you for a moment before making the first attempt at justification.

"I- um... I swear, just let me explain to you-" he starts, but it's like you don't even hear him.

You stomp over to the couch, rage blazing in your eyes. "Is that MY fucking eyeliner?" you ask, absolutely incensed.

It was one thing to cheat on you, but to use YOUR makeup for the foreplay?? A whole other matter entirely.

"Yes," he says and moves Naoya back onto his part of the couch.

He quickly realizes that decision was a mistake though when the outline of his stiff cock against his pants becomes visible for everyone in the room. The evidence of his arousal just seems to upset you more. Tears start welling in your eyes, and Light's mind scrambles to defuse this situation before it gets out of hand.

It wasn't so much you being hurt that bothered him; rather he worried you might do something irrational to get back at him. This was the part of your relationship he didn't want to admit to Naoya. You knew most of his secrets. Being together since the two of you were eighteen, you saw so much of him. Not only could you expose what you saw right now, you had the potential to ruin his life.

He considers writing your name down on the piece of paper he keeps in his pocket, but it was far too risky. You'd know what he was doing in a second, and you had a piece on you too. You could scribble out Light Yagami just as quickly. His only hope would be that you'd be so tempted to write him out a long, horrible death, that it'd give him the advantage of time over you.

But instead of testing fate, he decides to deal with the problem head on.

"Baby," he starts, forcing out one of the pet names you always begged him to call you, "Just listen to me, ok? You have every right to be upset, but just don't do anything irrational. I can explain what happened."

You stay where you are, body visibly rigid with anger. But you don't lunge at him or storm off, so that's a good sign.

Before he can continue, Naoya scoffs from behind him, sounding more annoyed by the interruption than anything else. "Women. Creatures of pure emotion."

That does set you off. "Who the fuck even are you?"

Light reaches out for your hand and guides you to sit on the couch next to him before this can get any worse.

"That's Naoya," he begins. He then gives you a summary of the last hour and a half, leaving out a few choice parts.

Your face slowly loses emotion and retreats into a neutral expression. It both worries him and settles his nerves.

"So are you gay?" you ask at the end of his story, "Is that what you're trying to tell me? Is that why you won't touch me?"

"What?" he says defensively, "No! I'm not gay. I'm just... is that really all you took away from that?"

You shrug. 

Naoya chimes in from behind again. "You can't blame him not wanting to touch you on being gay. That just seems like the reaction any sensible person would have."

"Why the fuck are you still here?" you snap at him, "Claire's is probably missing their best customer, so feel free to leave."

"Light told you why I'm here," he smirks. He leans forward and rests his chin on your boyfriend's shoulder, looking at his face. "I think I was right before. She is jealous of me."

Light's pretty sure you're about to lunge over him and tackle Naoya through the sliding glass door, out into the rain.

"Stop," he says, shooting the other man a look.

He then grabs your hand and squeezes it, a gesture that's supposed to be reassuring.

"I'm sorry for putting you in this situation. You didn't deserve it," he says, speaking in his usual calm tone of voice, "You aren't the problem. I'm the one who felt the need to do this. I just have so much going on, and I feel trapped. I don't know where to go, so I went for the first sign of escape I could find. And that was wrong, I know. I should've just talked to you about it."

It was all what you wanted to hear, and you wanted to believe it so badly. He knew just how to play you.

"You don't have to leave though. You're important to me. You can be a part of this too."

"This isn't a porno, Light. I'm not just gonna drop my panties because you said sorry."

Your external rejection was a display meant to hide your feelings within. You hated that he wanted to continue whatever this was with this guy, but you were at least happy you had the option to be included. You wanted to believe that this was simply him getting swept up in the thrill of something new, but that he'd always return to the comfort of familiarity with you.

He reaches out and cups your cheek, pulling a little to scoot you closer. You follow along and inch over to the middle cushion.

"See? Obedient like a pet," Naoya whispers, nipping at Light's earlobe and pecking the skin beneath.

You shoot him a glare, but it does no good.  He doesn't even look your way.

Light doesn't respond to the animosity. He focuses on walking the thin line between you and Naoya, keeping this situation balanced and you from exploding and reigning hellfire upon his life.

"Good girl," he mumbles. Another name you'd asked for before. He'd have to dial it back a little in a moment, or it'd be obvious how thick he's laying it on. "Just try it for me. You'll feel much better with us then you would be sulking alone in the bedroom."

You pause, taking one last moment of hesitation. Your eyes rotate between them as you consider getting up and keeping your dignity. Lightning flashes outside and thunder follows. You know you shouldn't do this, but you can't rid the part of you that wants to please Light. That wants him to care for you like you care for him. It's so deeply rooted, that it's easier to just give in than try and weed it out.

You nod your head.

His hand pulls you all the way in, connecting your lips. He's not as passionate as he was before, but you didn't get a close enough look to know that. In a way, he feels like he's mimicking Naoya's techniques on you. You sigh softly and shut your eyes, returning the affection in full.

On Light's throat, Naoya attaches his mouth. That strikes a spark within the younger man again. His lips float up and down the column, gliding over the tender skin with precision. It works a whimper out of Light, and that's when Naoya's hand creeps around his body and slides up his thigh. His palm finds his erection, which hadn't fully dwindled yet.

"Still hard, Light? You must want me bad," he taunts before using his teeth to pull at the flesh on his neck.

He moans, and your eyes flash with jealousy. You stare into the golden spheres, hating this man you barely even knew.

Bringing your lips down, you begin to work on the other side of Light's throat. You lap at his pulse point before attaching your lips and sucking a little mark onto the pale expanse. In tandem, your hand slides down his chest to rest on his thigh teasingly.

As if switching positions with you, Naoya rises to Light's lips. He resumes the kiss that you had interrupted. And even with your hand getting closer down below, he keeps his own cupped over Light's cock, like he's his instead of yours.

Light whimpers from all the attention on him. He sinks back into the plush cushions, and both you and Naoya follow along. His eyes droop closed, allowing him to just feel. 

Without the visuals, he can still tell the touches of Naoya and you apart. Your lips are smaller, your touches more delicate. Your fingers linger and tease, coaxing a reaction. Naoya goes for what he wants, and what he wants is Light to squirm and whine. He paws and grabs, rough squeezes and harsh bites between kisses. He makes his heart pound and his head spin, struggling to keep up.

Before he knows it, a familiar hand is creeping up his shirt while one he doesn't recognize so well slides into his pants. He gasps as Naoya's fingertips make direct contact with his dick. They swipe at the sensitive tip, rubbing the ridge and drifting across the slit. His hips writhe, pushing him further back into the couch.

You huff. It wasn't fair. Of course you wouldn't be able to make Light feel as good when you only had access to his upper body. It was an unfair disadvantage, but you decide to try your hardest anyway. Your nails lightly scrape circles around his nipples, teasing the buds but not touching them just yet

His eyes snap open and dart to you. You'd never tried that before. "Wh-what are you doing?" he asks.

"Nothing, baby. Just trying to make you feel good," you whisper. 

You didn't understand how you touching his nipples earned him questioning you, but this guy he'd known for two hours could hold his balls in the palm of his hand without a shred of hesitation. You just decide to silence your annoyance by leaning in to kiss him again.

Naoya had left Light's lips in favor of pushing down the man's pants and watching his cock leak and drool. Shimmery beads of precum oozed out of him with each firm tug to his cock.

"So much coming out of you already... we should get to the good stuff so you don't cum too early," he mocks with one last squeeze to Light's shaft.

He then stands up and removes his own clothing. You follow suit and do the same for yourself, not wanting to be unmatched.

At first, Light lazily watches the both of you, taking in the sight of your breasts and Naoya's toned stomach. But once Naoya's removed his shirt and discarded it to the floor, Light's eyes lock on the other man.

Silver piercings shine through Naoya's nipples, and it's obvious Light's never seen anything like it before. He studies them as though he's discovering something for the first time. His jaw doesn't drop, but it might as well have from how wide his eyes are.

You drop the rest of your clothes without much effort, annoyed by the lack of attention from your boyfriend. Meanwhile, Naoya takes his time. He peels off his pants, building the seductive tension with a measured pace.

Crawling back onto the couch, you nuzzle Light's neck like a kitten, cooing in his ear. "Need you inside me, baby. Want you so bad."

He nods vaguely, your words clearly going in one ear and shooting right back out at you. His eyes are still on Naoya, who's now standing there stroking his own cock to full attention.

You scowl. Of course, Naoya's length is as pretty as the rest of him. It's a good size with a proud head that makes even you crave a taste. He's well-groomed, everything about him, enticing.

He smiles at your boyfriend, arrogance written all over his face. "You can fuck your little girlfriend, Light. And she can get me ready for you."

Without a second thought, Light nods, and suddenly, he's much more invested in you. He guides you to lay back on the couch and gets to his knees at the end of you. Naoya takes up the spot next to your head, leaning against the cushions for stability.

Disrobing the rest of the way, Light lines up his dick to your entrance, faster than he'd ever done when it was just the two of you. He slides the tip in, grunting at how tight you are. Your slick coats him inch by inch until he's bottomed out.

Up top, Naoya strokes your hair and looks down at you with sinister intent. His cock awaits your mouth inches away from your lips.

"Use any teeth, and I'll make sure you have none left before I'm done with you," he says lowly.

Your eyes harden into a glare, but when the reddened head bumps your lips, you accept it. The shaft slides over your tongue to the back. The man above you lets out a groan and tilts his head back.

"Mmmm... she's got a good mouth," Naoya hums, "You teach her that, or is she just naturally such a slut?"

Light had been focused on rabbiting his hips against your center, finding some relief from how worked up he'd gotten. The words bring him back to reality. He looks up at the other man, taking a second to process the question.

"Oh... she's always been good at that," he says.

And it was the truth. You gave good blowjobs, and Light's favorite part about them was that they made you feel connected to him or something. All he had to do was sit back, close his eyes, and let you make him cum, and you wouldn't bitch about the lack of intimacy between you two.

He curls his fingers into your thighs harder, lifting them a bit so he has leverage to fuck into you harder. Sounds of your elicit activities fill the room. Skin claps against skin while you gag on Naoya's cock. Hips pump against your face, a hand cupped on the back of your head to make sure you take it all. You can barely breathe. Your nails dig into the cushions, and your body squirms more in an attempt to find some reprieve.

All Naoya does is laugh. He grins wider as he watches you struggle beneath him. His hand extends to paw at your breast and casually tweak a nipple, bringing broken whimpers from you in between the garbled groans.

"Look at you," Naoya coos. He doesn't even know you, but it seems he can't help mocking. "This is what you're good for, huh? Light's been too soft on you. Hasn't shown you your place."

The lack of oxygen makes the words roll over you like water. You keep sucking the best you can as Naoya fucks your face and Light pounds into your cunt. They both thrust with one thing in mind: their own pleasure. You're nothing more than a conduit between them.

Soon, that changes. Naoya pulls his dick from your mouth. It drips and gleams with your saliva. You inhale deeply, enjoying the fresh sensation of air hitting your lungs. He steps back and goes down to stand behind Light. His hands land on your boyfriend's sides, rubbing up and down the lean expanse of his torso.

"Feeling good? Is she tight?" he whispers as he kisses up the other man's neck, nosing at his undyed hair.

"Y-yeah," Light stammers. He feels like he's gonna malfunction.

His hips rock without error, seemingly unable to stop ricocheting into the warm, wet embrace of your pussy. Naoya scrapes his nails down Light's stomach and scratches at his v-line. His back arches and a series of whimpers pours from his lips.

"I bet you're even tighter."

Light's previously drooping eyes widen, and before he knows it, Naoya's hand has slid to his ass, fingers already prodding at his entrance. He whimpers again, trying to think of a question or a protest. This couldn't be happening.

But then it does. Two digits slip inside. And fuck, it feels so right.

Back and forth, back and forth. He maintains the steady rhythm while fucking you. From your angle, you're not totally sure what he's doing, so you let your head fall back and bliss out.

"That's right," Naoya breathes, "Fuck yourself back on my fingers. Stretch yourself out for the real thing."

And Light continues to do just that. Naoya keeps it at two fingers, never trying out a third. After he believes the other man's had enough practice, he pulls his fingers out, relishing the needy mewls Light makes.

He slots his wet dick between his cheeks before slowly pushing it in. Light has to stop for a moment. Give himself some time to adjust to the feeling of being full. A shiver sweeps up his body, and he clutches the dough of your thighs harder.

Naoya soothes the sensation by rubbing a hand up and down his spine rhythmically. Once he's calmed down, the same hand slides into his soft locks and grips hard. He yanks him, forcing his back to arch, and fucks into him harder.

You can clearly see what's happening now, but even if you couldn't, the loud moan Light lets out would have clued you in. He whimpers, still moving inside you a bit, but the movement of his body is more controlled by the force Naoya's using to pummel into him.

His eyes roll back and his jaw goes slack. He'd never felt anything like this.

"What'd I tell you? I understand," Naoya grunts, "You're never gonna be able to go back when you've had a taste of this."

Light shakes his head, though he feels so hazy, he's not sure if the motion is clear. As he becomes more used to the feeling, he starts to be able to move against you a little more. You reach a hand down and rub at your clit. Light didn't seem to be too concerned with getting you there, so you would ensure you made it yourself.

The extra stimulation on your clit makes you tighten up on Light's cock. He whines and bites his lip as Naoya continues fucking him mercilessly.

"You gonna cum? Fill her up while I fill you," he grunts behind him.

Light nods, body growing shakier as his orgasm comes closer.

Only a few more desperate swirls on your bundle of nerves, and you reach your peak. You spasm around Light, writhing on the couch beneath him. He can't take it, the feeling of Naoya battering a sweet spot inside he didn't even know he had combined with your walls trying to milk him dry.

With a whimper, his cock starts to spurt inside you. It kicks with each rope of cum, his hips twitching in between the two bodies on either side of him. His head falls back to rest against Naoya's sweaty shoulder. The other man's breaths feel cool on his own slick skin.

Naoya can tell he's cumming from how his body moves and takes it as an invitation to pump his own load deep inside of Light. He thrusts all the way in and lets loose, moaning as his release floods the other man. He fucks it in a few times, noting every little twitch or sound Light makes.

When all is said and done, the room is quiet. The only sounds are the harsh breaths leaving each of your lungs, and the tail end of the storm raging outside.

Naoya's the first to pull out, easing his cock from Light's hole. He watches a bit of cum leak out afterward and grins at the sight.

Light goes next, slipping out of you and crumpling down onto the sofa.

You stay where you are for the moment, just taking in what happened.

The silence feels awkward for you and tense for Light but satisfying for Naoya.

You need some time. You can't think while they're both sitting right there. Standing up, you stretch your limbs a little. You intend to just leave, but then your eyes catch on the black eye pencil from earlier.

Your eyes narrow at Light when you snatch it from the couch.

"You and your boyfriend better buy me new eye liner," you pout before turning on your heel and making your way to the bedroom.

[nekropsii]

Why do people call Porrim an MRA??? it's such a bad take I can't even begin to fathom the logic.

Uuuuugh. Okay, to my understanding, the logic is predicated on two concepts:

Kankri is Correct, there is no Misogyny on Beforus.

Since Beforus has a Matriarch, "complaining" about the Oppression of Women on Beforus is the exact equivalent... Men complaining about men being oppressed, despite us living in a Patriarchal society.

This is a terrible argument, because... Porrim literally explains in detail that that is not the case.

Yes, Beforus has a Matriarch... A Superficial Matriarch, where the woman in power is more of a Figurehead than anything. Law Enforcement and Politics are handled mostly by "Higher CIPs" - Ceruleans, Indigos, and Purples - which are predominantly born (hatched?) as men. ... If all of the Social Order and Politics are Enforced and Dictated by men... Then that... Is a Patriarchy.

So, we have it directly explained to us that Beforus is Superficially a Matriarchy, with a Governing Body largely composed by Highblood Men, who canonically benefit from the subjugation of women, because having women be of generally lower class than men means that... Men can cull women, potentially on the basis of being women. You know, that social system, enforced by the predominantly male-lead government that allows for what is essentially the ownership of people you deem incapable of caring for themselves as pets? The system that will take any excuse in the book? Sure, that may have been a social rule implemented by their version of HIC, Feferi fucking Peixes, but it's still being used as a weapon. Just because something was made by a woman, does not mean it cannot be used as a weapon against women in the name of misogyny. You think Alternian Culling doesn't work the same damn way?

There's a sharp cut of irony you have to feel at the fact that Porrim literally says that conversations of Misogyny on Beforus are often shot down using "The Matriarchy" as an excuse. If Misogyny wasn't a thing, why the fuck are Rufioh, Kankri, and Cronus literally, textually, purposefully Misogynists? Why the hell is Latula like that, then? I don't think this is a 1-to-1 allegory for the real world, man- Troll World Building has NEVER been a direct, clean allegory for the real world. I do not think she was ever intended to be read as an analogue to Men's Rights Activists, I think she was intended to be read as an Alien Feminist. If anything, this feels less like an MRA, and more like someone getting shut down for trying to have a conversation about how Misogyny Exists in, like, Thatcher-Era England or something. Well, there's a Female Prime Minister, isn't there? Misogyny is over, clearly.

Porrim is constantly posed as an Exposition Fairy on the same level as Aranea, just... With Politics and World Building rather than Character Analysis. Porrim is portrayed as cool, collected, and correct. Do you think Andrew Hussie - literal Andrew Hussie - would portray a fucking Men's Rights Activist with that level of grace and style? Because the answer is no! Every time a character is a Misogynist in Homestuck, they are comically terrible! Rufioh, Kankri, Cronus, fucking Caliborn! Hussie is a lot of things, and yeah, some of these things are bad, but none of these things include the label Misogynist. Hussie is well known for... Not doing that, actually, that's, like... A major appeal of the comic. The female characters in Homestuck are known for being really, really well written and really, really well handled!! If there was a Men's Rights Activist in Homestuck, we would know about it, because that character would be comedically terrible, constantly dunked on by everyone around him, totally bitchless, and posed as a relentless fucking menace who does not deserve to breathe the same air as any of the women in the story. You know, like Cronus! And Not Porrim!!

Also, can we all take a moment of silence to ponder how much of an L it is to have your entire point of discourse be based in the idea that straight up literal actual Kankri Vantas is correct? That is capital e Embarrassing.

[gublersg1rl]

cw: feminism rant, smut, sex, misogyny, porn etcetc

note: i’m not the best writer or very articulate… and i’m dyslexic LOL i hope this is understandable it’s kinda all over the place i fear

Once, I saw a woman on Instagram criticizing the porn industry, and I immediately knew there would be some man in the comments getting defensive. What I didn't expect to see was a man who wrote, "Women criticize porn as if they don't write about having sex with fictional men."

As someone who despises the porn industry but actively reads smut, id argue that women writing smut is a direct effect of the ways porn has impacted women's sexual expression.

Why do women choose to sexually express themselves through fictional characters and celebrities? If a teenage boy wants to have sex, he's just being a boy. If a teenage girl wanted to have sex, something had to have happened to her. That's concerning. Men can have a lot of sex. He's a man. Of course, he's going to want to have sex. Women can't have sex; women having sex is slutty. Nobody likes a whore. Blowjobs? That's normal. Eating a girl out? Don't be gross. Thats disgusting. Women can't sexually express themselves without being judged in society, but you know who won't judge them? People they understand they have no chance with, like celebrities and fictional characters. This is why a lot of queer men also partake in "fangirl" culture because queer sexual expression is also shunned in society, so there has to be some sort of outlet.

This brings me to my next topic, the difference between porn and smut. They're not different in the way porn was made for men by men and smut was made for women by women. If I went on pornhub, the first thing ill see is, "Big tits virgin teen girl gets choked out by massive 10-inch cock." Women aren't equal to men in porn. Porn makes women objects; in porn, women's sexuality does not exist. Women don't have sexual needs outside of what the man wants. Once, I heard someone say, "In a pornsick culture, women don't have sex; they perform it." Meanwhile, in smut, it's the opposite. Even if the writer is writing with sub and dom dynamics typically, there will always be an underlying sense of trust, with moments of obvious consent, whether that is verbal, a touch, or a glance.

This isn't to say women don't write about rough sex. They do. There are so many fics that involve extreme kink aspects, but more times than not, there will be that trust and consent.

But what if there's not? I've seen it. if you read smut, you've probably seen questionable tags, too. It's important to mention that just because mostly women write smut, there are straight men who do it, too. I've read smut, which was painfully obvious it was written by a man. That being said, women also write questionable... smut. Going back to my most recent statement, women are shown and taught that they are objects. So it's not completely absurd to say you will find smut written by women that objectifies them; when you condition someone to an idea, it's hard to unlearn that. It's hard to understand sexuality as a woman when society is telling you not to be slutty but to also submit and to perform for a man and his sexual needs because in a man's world, his sexual needs, by default, are your sexual needs.

Is smut damaging to women? Well, I'm not a psychologist. I'm just a nineteen year old girl who likes to read smut about Spencer Reid and is also a feminist. So, I do not know how qualified I am to answer this question, but what I will say is I think that as long as women are not writing smut and portraying themselves as sexual beings living for the sole purpose of men.... smut is a perfectly healthy way to express sexuality :) all in all porn is fucking scary, and so is men and sex and being intimate it’s all really scary but smut is an easy way to express your sexuality in a safe anonymous space.

[alexluvsskittlez]

rant incoming if this doesn't make sense I'm sorry

why are THOSE types of lp fans such hypocrites.

you guys claim to support mental health and then tear down Emily for her past. which knowing how quick people where to find out about her past and how quick they where to spread hate and say awful (and some untrue) shit about her. that probably affected her mental health a lot. and while yes I think in some way it may have been good to bring the danny masterson stuff to light because she did end up addressing it in the end, I'm still angry at these "fans" ESPECIALLY the ones who still ignorantly spread hate about her 3 months later. if it was a man in Emily's position i highly doubt that any of this shit would've been brought up and if it was, not a lot of people would care. people are forgetting that lp also has a new drummer now. and am i seeing people bring up Colin's past and harrasing him for it? no. so why where these people doing it to Emily? simple answer: misogyny. y'all hate to see a hot lesbian girlboss continue the legacy of one of the greatest people alive and serving cunt while doing so. these are the same types of fans that shat on one more light, these are the same fans that have been saying "t-this isn't linkin park!" ever since mtm released almost 18 years ago, these are the same hateful ass "fans" that contributed to Chester's death. we may never know how Chester would feel about Emily, but what i do know is that Chester would despise you types of "fans".

okay rant over, i have a video to work on. (it's not about Emily, but the video i make after that one will probably be about Emily)

[hiraethminds]

This is a tangent, I'm here to entertain with needless rambling

The deep rooted hatred for taco I see in the II community genuinely concerns me. Especially since those people tend to be Mephone "apologists"(For lack of a better word, I love Mephone don't get me wrong) despite how taco is the "active" side of the coin to his "passive". The connections between them are there trust me Im connecting the dots. Ive connected them.

I understand that she's done bad things, but blaming her for her shortcomings when she doesn't and never had the same support group to change as Mephone did makes me a little ehh.. Getting upset because Microphone showed her support in the new episodes simply because you don't like the ship(I understand why people wouldnt but thats not an excuse to deny her anything), and because Taco doesn't know how to change yet and you refuse to see her as anything redeemable. I'm not big on shipping, thats not the point of this tangent, but Taco finally having someone to support her and help her change is a GOOD thing. Microphone was being the bigger person there, she was being mature and thoughtful because Taco clearly needs the help. The fact that people continue to deny Taco any kind of growth even if she goes about it in the wrong way makes me deeply uncomfortable. Because the moment any character does anything bad that isn't HER they don't say anything about it. She was shunned by her peers because she was playing the game and continued to 'play the game' so to speak.

Theres a deep rooted hint of misogyny in the way they treat her, but I wont yap about that you dont need to read allat.

I understand people have reasons for not liking characters! That's ok. But I've seen them actively go out of their way to harass people that DO like Taco and actively criticize enjoying her character.

They tend to take it as defending her actions. Which is not what's happening. I don't think oscommunity could handle vriska is all I'm saying.

Feel free to not answer this I just need whatever little imp is telling me to scream about it to get out. go draw a taco dis is driving me crazy

Thank you for dumping this in my inbox bigbarf200, I feel like a wise confidant.

okay so I don't interact/observe with the wider ii community (Mainly cuz i like playing with my touys without being bothered) So this information is so Interesting to me!!!

As you mentioned, the hate might stem from misogyny (and by the way, I’d love to read your essay—talk all you want, my friend!). This is a societal issue that affects every part of life.

That said, I also think some people might dislike her simply because she’s a hustler and stubborn. When she has a goal, she’ll do whatever it takes to achieve it, even if it means crossing into morally gray areas.

holding Mepad hostage > hijacking the show

lying and deceiving objects with good intentions > winning s1

seriously hurting Fan > winning Mic immunity

as you said in the greater scheme of things, she's genuinely done horrible things. But if you just accept that at face value you are missing out on such an amazing character. You have to consider her perspective and the circumstances of her birth (especially in a story like ii!!) to fully understand and come to an option on her. But I digress this is baby level analysis so ill move on.

people who think Mic being friendly towards Taco post e14 is out of character are misunderstanding Microphone as both a character and thematic device I think

that's literally the only rational reason I could think of as to why people would be mad about taco and mic being on good terms???

so yeah, these haters just sound like crazy irrational people who have a lot of pent-up emotions. crazy

anyways ty!!! I feel like I didn't have alot to add since, as stated, these people are just incredibly irrational. but its nice getting an earful of whagh the fuck the community is like. here are soem taco drawings for the occasion