#feminism leaving my body when i see fine men

[jaylaxies]

oh he’s so fucking crazy

[hyperlexichypatia]

One time, when I was younger, I had an unpleasant encounter with an (apparently neurotypical) older man who wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

Now, I was fine. But I was scared.

Not so much because I was afraid the man would come after me -- although given the statistics around violence against women who refuse men's advances, that would be an entirely reasonable fear -- but because I was afraid that someone would find out what had happened.

Because, you see, if someone found out that I had been assaulted, I would be a Vulnerable Young Girl.

And the thing about being a Vulnerable Young Girl is that it doesn't matter if you said "yes" or "no."

It's not necessarily that people would have sided with my assailant -- this is a different flavor of rape culture. Most people would have agreed that what my assailant did was wrong. But they would have considered it equally wrong -- maybe more wrong -- if he were my chosen, consensual boyfriend I actively wanted to be with.

Because his crime was not disregarding my "no" and violating my bodily autonomy. His crime was Taking Advantage of a Vulnerable Young Girl. Preying on a Vulnerable Young Girl. Corrupting a Vulnerable Young Girl.

If you're a Vulnerable Young Girl, you don't have the right to say "yes," which means you don't really meaningfully have the right to say "no" either. You need to be Protected, and, of course, you don't have the right to say "no" to that, either.

And, look, once again, I was fine. I'm making the specific assault sound worse than it was. That's not the point. I wouldn't mention it at all, except that The Discourse is such that if you don't disclose a relevant personal experience, you're assumed to Not Care About Real People. But I am not alone in this.

I've heard multiple instances of the specific scenario "I was assaulted in college but I didn't report it because my parents would have made me leave school." Or "I was date raped and didn't report it because then my family would have never let me go out again." Or "I'm a psychiatric survivor and if I reported being assaulted I'd be put back into treatment."

These are real things I've heard or read assault victims say.

Framing assault victims as Vulnerable Young Girls actively discourages victims from reporting assaults.

Yet the people who use this framing seem to think it's somehow necessary to get assaults taken seriously, even though it does the opposite.

Feminists largely understand this when it's in the context of purity culture. When people say, "In purity culture, it doesn't matter if you say 'yes' or 'no,' sexual assault and consensual sex are considered equally bad, and that underlying premise minimizes the actual wrongdoing of sexual assault, discourages assault victims from reporting their assaults, and allows assailants to get away with their crimes," this is understood as a problem.

But the Vulnerable Young Girls framing comes from self-identified feminists. Who think they're helping. In the name of feminism and justice. They don't understand why being framed as a Vulnerable Young Girl would make a woman reluctant to come forward, because the coercive control she would be subjected to "isn't punishment". They're seemingly baffled by why young and/or disabled women don't want to be framed as Vulnerable Young Girls, even if they've been assaulted. Especially if they've been assaulted. Why are you so offended when we say that your wishes for your own body don't matter?

And... why? Why is this framing necessary? What is the purpose? What is the benefit?

If you hear about someone committing sexual assault against a young and/or disabled woman -- without her consent, against her will, disregarding her "no" -- what, exactly, are you trying to accomplish by jumping in and saying "Even if she said yes, that's still predatory! He's still Taking Advantage of a Vulnerable Young Girl!"?

What is the purpose of saying that?

If a young and/or disabled woman chooses a sexual and/or romantic relationship that you think is "bad for her," and you proclaim "Just because she agreed to it doesn't make it okay! It's still wrong!" -- well, I vehemently disagree with you, but at least you're responding to the actual situation that exists.

But if you hear about an assault, against the victim's will, without her consent, and feel the need to denounce the counterfactual scenario in which it was a consensual encounter... what are you even trying to accomplish? Is the sole purpose just to convey to the victims (and any other assault survivors and/or young and/or disabled women in the vicinity) "I need to make it unambiguously clear that my objection to this assault has nothing to do with the violation of your bodily autonomy. I actively do not care about that."?

[someone-will-remember-us]

Is Lily Phillips, the young woman who slept with 101 men in 24 hours and now plans to do the same with 1,000, a vulnerable victim of exploitation? Or is she a free agent, making her own choices about her body and what to do with it?

I don’t think the answer to this is remotely complicated. Sure, it is possible to claim that unless Phillips describes herself as a victim, she cannot be one. It’s possible to claim that if feminists fought for a woman’s right to make her own choices, they cannot criticise this one. It’s possible to claim that anyone expressing pity for Phillips is judgemental, “whorephobic”, a dried-up old prude. It’s possible to claim all of these things, but none of that changes what we can all see right in front of us.  

As Julie Bindel has written, “no woman has a fantasy to end up with the type of injuries that will occur from such extreme activities”. One does not have to have any particular expertise in trauma, sexual abuse or disassociation to recognise self-harming behaviour. While false consciousness can be a tricky area for feminists — how close is the protective “you don’t want this really” to the patriarchal “you don’t know your own mind and have no desires of your own”? — there are times when the damage is much too obvious to leave any room for doubt. I cannot look at clips of Phillips in the immediate aftermath of what she “consented” to and think “yes, that woman is fine”. To be able to do so would take some effort. Indeed, I think you’d have to train yourself. 

What worries me in the case of Phillips — and far more broadly, in some branches of feminism and leftist politics as a whole — is that this training has begun to be seen as a virtue. Closing off feelings of compassion has become a way of managing the disconnect between #BeKind, right-side-of-history sloganeering and the abject cruelties of “progressive” industries: the sex trade, commercial surrogacy, “gender-affirming” care. Can’t cope with the cognitive dissonance that comes from witnessing pain caused by your side’s definition of freedom? Then learn not to see it. Learn not to feel. Teach yourself to regard this very feeling as a mark of moral immaturity. 

As I’ve been exploring in my book (Un)kind, there’s an area of “progressive” thought which prides itself on not feeling pity or compassion for any victim of sexual, medical or reproductive exploitation about whom it can be said “but it was a choice”. Even though this flies in the face of what feminists (and others) have long argued about the nature of power and coercion, there are certain choices — frequently ones relating to the bodies of women or children — which get placed in some magical, depoliticised zone. Thereafter anyone who might have a natural, human reaction to another person hurting themselves — at least for “liberatory” reasons — can be dismissed as the possessor of an unsophisticated, lower-order moral sensibility. To their “progressive” betters, feeling sad for the likes of Lily Phillips is all a bit knee-jerk, a bit vulgar, a bit “won’t somebody please think of the children” conservative. 

If you want to demonstrate your superior moral instincts, you must develop the capacity to switch your empathy on and off — off when it comes to the boring, obvious stuff (say, women who are selling their babies or demanding to have their breasts cut off), and on for the more “exciting”, challenging subjects (say, terrorists or sexual abusers threatened by the “carceral state”). Why clutch your pearls over migrant women in mega-brothels when you can be out there demanding restorative justice for rapists?

There is something deeply inhumane about this. It matters to tune into that instant awareness that another person is in pain, even if that person is denying it. It matters to know that some actions are wrong, coercive, abusive, even if the individual who is at the heart of them makes no complaint. I am not saying that “responding” is the be all and end all. The excuses other people make to ignore another person’s suffering can often be the same ones the sufferer herself makes in order to cope with her pain. When no other exit seems possible, “I chose this — I wanted it” can seem like the only way of maintaining dignity. That doesn’t mean everyone else has to buy it, though it does make challenging it fraught.

Thinking about Lily Phillips has also set me thinking about the actor Elliot Page. You may notice that I don’t use Page’s “old” name – the “dead name” — as that would be deemed unkind and dehumanising, not least by those currently cheering on Page’s supposed transition to living his best life as a man. I don’t think I’m alone in looking at Page and seeing someone in tremendous pain, with a history of abuse, taking it out on a body that was never, ever to blame. I hesitate to write more because, well, it’s done now. The same can be said when I see images of teenage females who have had “top surgery” or women who claim to be perfectly happy to indulge the abuse fantasies of male partners or actresses who’ve starved themselves to next to nothing. What’s there to say? It’s done now. They’re even smiling. Why take from these women the stories that they need in order to believe this was what they wanted, and that there was never any other way? Likewise, why say anything about Lily Phillips? Why not let her get on with the 1,000 man challenge and if it appals you, don’t think about it? 

Because this is how we learn to approve atrocities. Even if we cannot save individuals, it’s essential that we remain sensitive to unspoken pain. It’s a pre-requisite to creating the world in which “choices” which are no choices at all never have to be made. Silence isn’t virtuous, even if it has been repackaged as respecting the autonomy of others. We know what’s before our own eyes. We mustn’t ever learn not to see it.

(archive)

[transwolfsmut]

CW. Force feminization followed by soft force masc, some intox. Older cis guy 4 younger trans guy; I imagine them as being around 45 and 22 but adjust as you please in your imagination.

This is an erotic fantasy. IRL I do not condone any way of disrespect towards trans bodies and identities; and I'm an adult trans man + gender fluid.

You've been for a while at the bar when you notice I've been watching you. You've come here on your own, unwinding after a though week. I've seen you have a cheeseburger and 2-3 beers while I drink some harder liquor. You are a cute boy and you catched my attention right away with your alt clothing, like you're trying very hard to look rugged and masc. I knew that you're trans, it's not my first time around you boys and I've never hidden how much I like your smaller hands, your curvy bodies, your chin fuzz, your masculine ways, your smell, your taste. You get startled when you notice you're being watched by a handsome middle aged man who smiles at you when you lock eyes with him. For a split second you feel this weird sense of opposing gender envy and sexual attraction, looking at my salt-and-pepper beard, the chiseled jawline, how good the shirt falls into my chest, the insinuated bulge in my jeans. The hairs of your nape stand and your eyes nervously go back to the remaining fries on your plate when you see me pick up my glass and walk towards you. I sit next to you and your heart is pounding.

I introduce myself and offer a hand to shake. You aren't the guy that is used to talking to strangers but there's something in my voice that makes you feel relaxed, almost hypnotized. You notice a tiny trans flag enamel pin on my denim jacket and you wonder if I'm trans or an ally- either way it makes you feel safe and start to relax around me. I offer to buy you a drink and when you ask for another beer I laugh a bit. "No, kid, you've gotta drink like a grown man." I ask for a couple more drinks, same of what I've been drinking before. I drink it down in a gulp and lock my eyes into yours, waiting for you to do the same. You do so, nervous. The liquor burns in your throat and warmth rushes beneath your skin. I smile, it's a pretty smile. I ruffle your hair. "There you are, my man." You blush. You didn't get annoyed at me ruffling your hair, it actually felt good to be petted like a good dog.

We go on talking and I go on getting you drunk. You know I am. You're getting dizzy, you laugh, you're enjoying the company, you finally feel relieved from the week's stress. Making a friend, that's something you didn't expect tonight. It feels good, the attention of an older man who actually shows interest in you, your chit chat about the stuff that you like. You lean your head on my shoulder for a second and then you jolt back to sitting straight, you've gotten too comfortable around me and feel ashamed. You don't even know if I'm into men, but you've felt kinda attracted to me. Is it the liquor? Is it the loneliness? Is it my musky scent, the protective aura around me? I grope your leg, a bit too close to your crotch. "Let's get somewhere more private." I suggest in a whisper. Your eyes widen, you blush and nod without looking at me.

I pay for the consumption and we leave the bar. "Are you out of your mind!?!?" Your brain screams at you, but you don't stop. You follow me into my car, you gasp when I lean into you and kiss you, you are melting at the way my beard tickles you and how I'm exploring the inside of your mouth with my tongue. I hold the hair of the back of your head brusquely and pull you away from me. "You ok with this, man?" I ask. You nod, speechless. I smile. "Fine, let's go home".

My place is nothing special, the small apartment you'd expect from a single man. I am groping your butt as I push you to the bedroom and into my bed. It's fluffy and comfortable. You'd happily sleep away the intoxication of the alcohol but I'm quickly on top of you and you realize my erection is rubbing on you bum. I lick your ear, and you roll on the bed to face me. "God, you're so handsome" I compliment as my hand creeps down between your legs. I rub on your bits through the hard fabric of your denim pants, and in the moment you moan, I step away. You're a bit perplexed, then you see me strip away from my jacket and shirt and go to the nightstand to grab a joint I carefully pre-rolled before I left the house. "You don't mind?" I ask, while already blazing it up. You shrug. You've done pot before, maybe had some edibles, but that shit I'm smoking definitely smells stronger than anything you've had before. I offer the joint. You take it, smoke from it and cough violently. "Good boy" I say while I again caress the spot between your legs. You smoke some more and the movements of my hand get more pleasurable. You soon realize I'm rewarding you- the more you smoke, the better it feels down there. You're feeling so relaxed, it feels good to let your guard down. You let me strip you from your pants and I start eating you out. I'm careful to only lick your clit, I'm not going anywhere near your hole. I mean your dick. But it's so small I can't think of it as anything than a clit. I notice you're getting wet. You're too high to offer any resistance when I grab you and place you in the middle of the bed, undoing your shoes and taking away every piece of clothing except for your binder. I take off the remaining of my clothing and lean on you, rubbing my boner on your pubic area.

"You want it inside of you". I whisper in your ear. You gasp. "You do want it inside, don't you?" You nod, you shake your head, uncertain. "Oh, puppy, don't deny it. Your body knows." I tap on your bits and a sweet splotchy sound confirms you're soaking wet. "You wouldn't be so naturally lubed up if you didn't want it". My cock is teasing at your hole. "It wouldn't feel so good if you didn't need to be filled". It's just one inch of me going inside of you, parting your labia. "You wouldn't spread open like this if your body wasn't made for this." You moan, as you feel me slowly penetrate you. "Your body wouldn't have this precious hole if it wasn't meant to be filled with cock". You feel it moving inside you. You suddenly realized I never put on a condom, but you're so dazed by the alcohol, the weed and the pleasure to care. I catch up speed, going in and out of you. "You wouldn't enjoy cock in your pussy so much if you weren't made for this... To pleasure males". You open your mouth, you want to protest but only more moaning comes out as I rub your clit while pumping my penis inside of you. "Oh you wanna say something?" I pull out and force you to open your mouth and take my cock covered in your wetness. "Can you detect those? The taste of your vagina, the smell of my balls? The natural distinction of your body and mine?" You're choking on my cock the further into your mouth I push it and face fuck you while I extend a hand behind me to reach into your clit and rub it. It feels both pleasurable and degrading. "I'm gonna pull out and you will say Yes, Sir" I tell you. I wait for one more minute before I do so. You gasp for air, confused and dripping spit. "Yes, Sir" you hear your own voice reply, but it doesn't feel like your own. "Good girl" I whisper in your ear as I ram back inside your pussy and it clenches around my shaft, your hips move by mere instinct in reaction to my own movements.

You hear your voice moaning, and yet it doesn't seem like your own. You're making high pitched girly noises while some guy you met in a bar is fucking your cunt. Perhaps it's the anonymity of being strangers what's allowing you to show yourself like this. Perhaps it's all the booze and the weed that's brought down your defenses. Perhaps it was me who saw through a crack in your stoic mask and knew what you needed. Some good thick cock pumping away all the worries. Your mind is drifting away when I pull out from you, panting. We're not done yet, and you know it so you just remain on the bed. You see me take something out of a drawer.

"It's ok, my man. Let her have this." I tell you before ripping your binder with a pocket knife. I have quickly and masterfully picked up the fabric with one hand while I ran the blade with the other hand, making it slide between your boobs. Just a tiny and swift caress of the knife on the center of your chest, and it feels like I just cut through some energetic field of yours. You fall into the mattress, your binder now like an open vest revealing your tummy and your chest, your tits bouncing liberated from the restriction. You feel ashamed and free. How come? This opposing sensations clash in your brain and before you can even start to process it, I'm grabbing your tits and my mouth latches onto one of your nipples. I lick on your nipples- going back and forth between the right one and the left one- I'm making a circular motion with my hands that feel just right and then I suck on your nipples and press on your breasts as if I wanted to milk you. "You're just divine, sweet one. To be praised, to be corrupted. I want to do so many things to you." My voice is jumping between need and authority. I start to finger you, circling between using a single finger to press directly into your G spot, using two fingers to explore deeper and three of them to dilate your pussy before I use it again with my cock. "I know you're a boy but let's be honest, you're enjoying being my sweet girl. Don't you?" You nod. You obey when I make you take off what's left of your binder and and get on all fours. "Say you want this". My dick is pressing at your opening, my hands are making circles on your buttocks. "I want this." You confess in a whisper. "I need this". Your teeth tighten around your words, you're too ashamed to actually say how much you need this and it feels so good to finally admit it. "You're such a good girl" I say when my cock slides back into you and you gasp with pleasure, feeling it go as deeply as possible and poke at your cervix. It's a bit painful but you can take it. "You were made for this. Your body was made to take cock like this. It's ok. Your body knows it's female and it doesn't matter your mind is that of a man. It feels good to be bred." I grab your titties and milk them while I fuck you deeper and faster. "A horny, eager female boy that was desperate to serve his purpose, her purpose. To be filled with cock and please a real male man". You feel me making circles very deep inside of you feel your body twitch in pleasure like never before. "Say you're my girl." I'm stroking your clit with one hand, grabbing your hip with the other and giving you additional movement so my cock digs more aggressively into your cunt. "Say you are my girl." You're so close. Your legs are shaking and your body is dripping sweat. You feel your heartbeat deep inside your vagina. "Say you are my girl". You feel it coming from inside, this heat, this thundering wave. You raise your upper body from the mattress. I'm sort of kneeling and you're sitting on my thighs, my penis buried inside of you. Your hips bouncing up and down, taking the penetration desperate for release. "I'm your girl!" You are almost screaming. "I'll be a girl for you!" You cum. It's massive. A release like never before. You've squirted on me and soon you realize my own cum is dripping from your cunt. The sticky heat makes you shiver, and you feel me make a few more circular movements around your cervix before I pull out and my cock rests between your labia. You look downwards and see your own body. Your exposed breasts and my penis between your legs. It sort of looks like if it was your own dick. Your brain is confused. Your mind, your gender and your sex feel like static.

I push you softly down into the bed, I caress your hair. Your eyes close, and your body goes limp with drowsiness. You hear me walk to the bathroom and move some stuff there. I come to you and lead you to the bathroom where I have set up a small chair, where you now sit. I make you raise your head, holding your chin. I gaze into your face, still blushing from the intense sex. I comb your hair and start trimming it. You're so deep down into your subspace you just let me do whatever I want to your hair. I use an electric clipper and some scissors on you, like a soft caress. "A man like you deserves a good haircut" I whisper in your ear as you feel the hairs falling on your shoulders. "You'll make one lovely gentleman". You feel the cool air in your scalp, it's refreshing.

I lead you into the shower and let the warm water carry away the trimmed hairs away from your shoulders. Your body relaxes and feels safe as you allow me to bathe you, a certain sense of danger that was lingering from having a stranger do all those nasty things to you is washed away. You know you are safe with me. The smell of soap and stereotypical male scented shampoo fill your nosetrils. I take a bit too long to wash your genitals, rubbing my hand between your labia and making you tremble from the stimulation, but I stop as soon as I see you're getting too excited about it. I wrap you in a towel, and take you back into the bedroom. You are smiling goofily when I show you a mirror and let you look at your brand new haircut. It suits you fine. A rush of gender euphoria jolts up your spine, and your sense of gender is no longer mixed up. The smells of the bath, the haircut- you already feel more manly.

You see me grab some stuff from my clothes drawer and you look in awe as I hand you a brand new binder, much better than the one I just ripped while fucking you. You had forgotten about it, distracted by all the pleasure. "You wouldn't think I'd leave you without any means to flatten your chest, right? Go, on try it". A thought crosses your mind: did I just have a drawer full of binders in different sizes or have I been watching you for days or even weeks and calculated your size? Do I do this often to other trans guys? You shake the thought away and you put the binder on. It fits great. You put your shirt back on and just before pull your underwear up, I get close to you coming from behind, feral. You feel a pinch in your buttock. You turn around hastily and find out I've got an injection in my hand. Your eyes widen, confused; your heart starts racing, afraid. It lasts only a second because I show you a vial of testosterone. The fear becomes surprise and then exhilaration. I've just injected you T. You hadn't started before, this is the first time the hormone enters your body. You want to get angry at me for doing so without telling but you can't, you're just amazed as the possibility of changes open up in your mind. I turn around to deposit the vial and injection in a shelf and grab something more from my closet.

I stick my hand down your undies and you feel something different: I'm shoving a packer in between your legs. You didn't have one when you arrived at my place. "A man needs his own dick" I whisper as I pull my hand out to rub your new soft dick over your clothing. I push you to the wall and masturbate your new dick while grinding my own on you. "Maybe next time I'll fuck you in the ass, make you take it as men do". You moan, about to cum again. "That shot I gave you will make you insufferably horny. You'll have to get back to me, to this place, so you can get more of that T-juice and to get fucked... Who knows? Maybe one day I'll allow you to top me". I squish your balls and jerk you off strategically, you feel the packer pressing against your bits in just the perfect way so it feels like it's your own penis. "Will you come back?" You nod. I rub you faster and harder. "You're such a good boy". You cum. You surrender. You're mine. My girl. My boy. All of you. Mine.

[moonboy-ish]

Hello! I'm Koy it's a pleasure to meet you

I'm an 18 years old trans (neurodivergent) dude who's barely starting his transition sooooo stick around to see how this goes! ✨

My friends took as a hobby giving me names so here are the ones I have from them that stuck

Koray(Koy)

Alejandro(Ale)

Felix(Lix)

I'll be using this blog as more... NSFW ish… in thoughts, rambles and arts, and more personal stuff I guess

Sfw & art blog: @kabs1912

I’m going to leave my little wishlist here if any of you guys want to gift me something ;>

More stuff about me

Sometimes use emojis as tone indicators (and tone tags), but not on prompt writing

I’m T4T~ had some experience with cis people 😒 and that is just not my cup off tea anymore

I’m bisexual with a preference for mans, and also polyam, but currently I’m single

I would say I’m a bottom/sub maybe power bottom if I put in the effort but honestly I like the idea of someone taking the lead

I’m in fact, a virgin

Love pet names!! ✨

Feel free to interact if you are

Part of the LGBTQ+ community

Specially if your trans

18-25 years old (specially if you want to dm me)

A decent human being in general

DO NOT INTERACT

MINORS, MAPS, RACISTS, TRANSPHOBES, RIGHT-WING BITCHES, DETRANS, AGEPLAY, ANY FORM OF ED BLOG, MEN DNI BLOGS, HIGHLY RELIGIOUS christian PEOPLE

I have religious trauma so yeah, politely fuck off

I don’t like you and you won’t like me

DM/ASK/General Interactions Rules

Almost every pet name is welcome, but if you're going to call me pretty or beautiful it has to go with “boy” or something to match my pronouns like “pretty boy” or “beautiful thing” just don’t like the feminine implication on them

Please try to use all my pronouns, not just he/him

No photos on DM, just, don't, I'll post when I'll post and I don't want yours there so, yeah

I tend to be really irregular with responses on DM (adhd acting up) so I apologize in advance, sooner or later I’ll remember that I only answered in my brain

If you come up as aggressive or I don't like your vibe I probably won't answer

If you make me uncomfortable in any way I WILL block you

ALSO IF YOU’RE OLDER THAN 30 DO NOT TOUCH THIS BLOG, GET OUT OF HERE YOU COULD EASILY BE MY PARENT AND THAT’S JUST WEIRD THIS WILL GET YOU BLOCKED IMMEDIATELY

Questions list: https://www.tumblr.com/moonboy-ish/738710799823126528/bigger-new-list-of-sex-questions

Kinky and horny stuff

I'm into: bondage/restraint; cock warming; corruption; pet play (especially puppy play); spanking; biting(I have an oral fixation); slight knife play; size kink; praise; slight degrading; body worship; edging; overstim; breeding (NO PREGNANCY OR RAISING); free use, but just in private

Okay Terms: (boy)pussy, cunt, hole, chest, clit, (t)cock

I'm NOT into: any body fluid aside from cum, sweat, tears, or blood (in small quantities and period blood is a no); misgendering, or any form of forced feminization; Religious Kink(at least if I don’t explicitly say it’s fine); body modification; Any form of incest(fauxcest included); any public stuff that isn't in a four-wall room like, there can be other people, but not in public spaces

•If something is not listed is because I don’t have an explicit opinion on it, feel free to ask if something interests you and it’s not here•

TAGS:

- Koy-prompt: scenarios and prompts

- Koy-ramble: rambles and thoughts

- Koy-sfw: sfw

- Koy-nsft : nsft

- Koy-asks : asks

- Koy-pics : pics

- koy-art: nsfw art that I don’t feel like posting on my main blog

Last updated: January 8th, 2024

[dovveri]

I got excited when I saw that you had posted about this tbh I SAW IT OMG???? the adds had me horrified omg like, the "You know full well a vow of celibacy is not the answer" like the 'you know full well' honestly got me a bit angry? cuz who even are you to say that?? there was another that said "thou shalt not give up on dating and become a nun" the disrespect???? and fr? from Bumble. An app that is self-proclaimed as being a "woman's app" cuz it has a certain empowerment to it (tbh i have beef with bumble and have had it for a while now)

Bro I watched it cuz I love Mark Ruffalo and I regret it. Even tho I think it was amazingly made in terms of design, the art direction was amazing, I can't like it cuz the main character was brought back with the brain of a child and then they categorized her new curiosity and her adventure as being "erotic". Tbh movie made me sick sometimes. I actually had to leave the theatre mid-movie cuz some parts just had me so shocked I couldn't watch them. The idea of lust in this was also so uncomfortable?? cuz she wasn't lusting for knowledge of these new things that she didn't know (cuz again, brain of a child) but she had a lot of sexual lust too, and therefore she had a lot of sex. And cuz there was so many sex scenes relating to her "liberation" and how she was becoming more mature and finding herself it seems like the people making this film really just think of sexualized feminism. And maybe this is cuz I love children and a younger cousin (a 10 yr old but still just a little kid in my eyes) but the way they kept reminding the audience that she had an immature brain, that she was essentially like a kid and then proceed to sexualize her was awful (me having a good relationship and loving kids should not be the only motive for being repulsed by the ideology of this movie tho, it should be common sense idk) And i know, that the brain was not accompanying the body cuz the body was of an adult, still, I don't think it's an excuse for using it as a way of saying that she's a character is an empowered woman because of her sexuality. The comments I saw after the movie also had me questioning the media literacy of some people cuz they were all "omg this is like the barbie movie but for adults" UH???? and "omg, this was such a good movie, feminism being in so many movies right now is so good" why do people only find women having sexual freedom as being feminist, and by sexual freedom (ex: this movie) is just the mc having a lot of sex. Like yes, it's good that they portray sexual freedom in movies, but the way that it's being portrayed in some of them is not a stamp for feminism imo. There were responses to people who didn't like the movie saying "it's supposed to be a commedy". It wasn't a funny movie bro???

Idk if you saw the "I have no mouth and I must scream" popularisation on tiktok but it being popularized right when this bear vs men is still in discourse had me logging out of tiktok. There's this character (ellen) that is imprisioned but AM that is AI. She goes through so much, like she has to literally use her body in so many ways to "calm" the others (who are men) AND PEOPLE ARE CALLING HER SO MANY DEGRADING THINGS LIKE- people are saying she's the one who has it easy when she's the one that has to at one point sell her body for the sanity of the others. Obviously this discourse against her is done by men and people who only see the edits and go all "oh there is only one woman in this entire story? lets villanize her even though she's one of the biggest victims out of all the characters!". In the video game i think you can choose who gets the happy ending or smt and I saw people saying that they were not gonna give it to ellen cuz she wasn't worth it because of how she used her body. This is one of the many reasons I hate popularization of certain books, movies or smt on tiktok, it always ends up like this

I'm sorry this is so long😭😭

omg no its fine i love to rant sorry it took me so long to reply and RIGHTTTTTT EXACTLY LIKE EVERY SINGLE THING UVE SAID IS LITERALLY WHAT I THINK ASW and omg ur so real for leaving halfway thru poor things AND YEAH NO LIKE U DONT HAVE TO HAVE A GOOD RELATIONSHIP W KIDS TO KNOW ITS WRONG TO WANT TO HAVE SEX W THEM??????? like one of the main problems i have w the film is the fact that she IS a child and the way that bcs she is one, men fawn over her bcs she’s basically stupid and easily impressionable and easy to ‘own’ and dominate which is disgusting bcs that means that ltr most mens ideal types is children?? and okay like sexual liberation and all but ur still talkijg about a CHILD rn a CHILD that is being sexually liberated like even the dad when the husband was asking like r u raising her to be ur sex slave and he was like i cant have sex (LIKE HE DIDNT SAY NO??? HE WOULD FUCK HER IF HE COULD??) ugh i hate this film sm

no i havent seen that but omg?!?!? I FUCKING HATE THAT ARGUMENT like when men call sex workers whores or wtv bcs excuse you?? its actually YOUR demographic that created that industry and YOUR demographic that keeps it alive and keeps fueling money into it. like yes it is some women’s choice to go into sex work but a lot of women also go into sex work just bcs u can make a decent amount of money if u cant find any other work and u need to support people at home or idk theres lots of scenarios where people are essentially forced into sex work and men think its a choice?? recognise ur privelege do u know how many more opportunities, whether its gaining citizenship, getting promoted at work, gender pay gap (WHICH STILL EXISTS ive heard men say it doesnt but thats naiive) how much easier it is to function as a society member if ur a man? if ur gonna shit on the sex industry go shit on the men who are raping women everyday but ‘its not rape bcs we paid them and thats their job’ pls (again nuance some women choose this and more power to them theyre taking advantage of the patriarchy) but others are doing it bcs they HAVE to they wouldnt fuck u if they just saw u on the street get over urself

[aropride]

this is driving me insane i can't stop thinking about it. i keep seeing posts i know are vagueing that post and it's so insane to me how much it got twisted.

here's the posts that started the discourse. copy pasting for accessibility and to remove urls. these posts are in reference to a screenshot of a tiktok with the caption "Taking my daughter to my laser hair removal appt so she learns about self care and doesn't feel guilty about it when she gets older."

this is fucking ghoulish (in next reblog) the way enforcing harmful and patriarchal beauty standards has gotten rebranded as "self care" and something that is no longer done to please men but now something that is "liberating" and something you do "for you" now is fucking insidious . taking your four year old daughter to watch you get laser hair removal is not "teaching her about self care" it's teaching her that there is something wrong with her from a very young age, and that she'll need to spend the rest of her life getting it fixed . you cannot reframe indoctrinating your own fucking daughter into this as a girlboss self care queen move. this is insane. (next reblog) self care is when you shave your legs… for yourself! self care is when you get a nose job…. for yourself! self care is when you when you spend 200$ on wellness products and diet tips and buy buy buy so much makeup that you need to put on everytime you leave the house or else you are an ugly pig … for yourself! self care is when you buy what the tell you to buy and do what they've always told you to do but don't worry girl. you're doing this for YOU this time . girl slayyy you are so hashtag crushing the patriarchy. i want to kill myself. (next reblog) (screenshot of a comment reading: "I don't get how everyone here claims to support trans people and body autonomy, and then claim that gender affirming care such as laser is furthering the patriarchy. That's literally a TERF talking point. Cis people should be allowed to have gender affirming care too." comment over) it's so over man it's never been more over than it is rn (next reblog) "laser hair removal is gender affirming care and cis people should be able to access it too" ok why is laser hair removal gender affirming care though. why is being completely removed of all of your body hair something that is seen as part of "being female" to the point you're expected to perform or you will be constantly shamed. that is the point i'm getting at here. this shit doesn't exist in a vacuum. patriarchal expectations surrounding womens body hair also hurt trans women and i don't think it's bad to point that out. (next reblog) "beauty standards are bad actually and hurt women" "well trans women are forced to adhere to those beauty standards too . so you're against gender affirming care" what?

okay. this seems very straightforward to me. basically just "you shouldn't teach your daughter that adhering to patriarchal beauty standards is self care because that will mean she internalizes the idea that having body hair is bad, which is fucked up. i don't think body hair should be seen as part of being a woman, it's harmful to cis and trans women, societal standards of womanhood are fucked up". which is a really normal feminism 101 take tbh. when i was 12 and found out what feminism was that was like, the first thing i learned, is that not shaving is a morally neutral action. it's fine. this post is literally just saying "shaving isnt inherently self care and saying it is might be damaging for little kids."

but people got really mad about that for some reason. so then there's this post, from someone else, responding to carson's post.

if you argue for restricting access to laser hair removal (or whatever surgeries) on the grounds of Protecting Women and even "well trans women shouldn't be pressured to have these procedures anyway! :)" I think you should play in traffic

and i see what they're saying. obviously i think people should have bodily autonomy.

but like. that's... not the point carson was making . i've reread the post trying to figure out where it says that and it doesn't. that's just not what the post says. nobody is arguing for restricting access to laser hair removal. people are just saying it's fucked up that women are pressured into getting it.

and then there's another post, also responding to the original posts:

Blonde cis woman who gets peach fuzz you need a microscope to see if she doesn't shave: "Aren't trans women such gender conformists for shaving their body and getting permanent hair removal. They are upholding patriarchal beauty standards entirely by themselves. I don't shave, because I have courage to against the dictates of femininity *sees an unshaven trans woman* Ugh, she isn't even trying.

in the spirit of good faith i won't assume that this person was calling carson a cis woman and rather that this is just a stereotypical type of person they're mad at. but like. who said this ? i reread the posts again just in case. it doesn't say that . it says that the one specific mother in the original tiktok is harming her child by teaching her that following patriarchal rules about womanhood is self care. it says nothing about trans women "upholding patriarchal beauty standards entirely by themselves" and it definitely doesn't shame trans women for not shaving.

okay one more post.

People when a transfem lets out so much as the slightest hint that societal standards have harmed her in a way that makes body hair a source of anxiety because of how she'll be treated by people and that has maybe caused her some dysphoria at some point in her life: "You are directly responsible for the patriarchy and should be ashamed of promoting it. Clearly you know nothing about real women's struggles despite being part of a subset of woman that is under a disproportionate amount of scrutiny for this sort of thing." People when a transmasc expresses a desire to get more body hair when he goes on t because of his own dysphoria: "yeah that's awesome bro you go get that manly manly body hair!"

first of all. really obsessed with the society people made up in their heads to get mad at where everyone loves trans men and supports our medical and transition decisions. this doesn't happen. like straight up society at large is not throwing parties for trans men who transition. overwhelmingly even in queer spaces it's discouraged. if i had a nickel for every joke from a cis queer woman abt how testosterone turns trans guys into Big Scary Men and Why would anyone choose to be a man and etc etc etc. it's a lot! i've heard it a lot!

but anyway. yes obviously transfems are harmed by societal standards about body hair. both from dysphoria and threat of violence and discrimination. but, like. when did carson say all that stuff about "real women's struggles". point me to the place in the post where trans women were blamed for cisheteropatriarchal beauty standards. where was it stated that trans women getting laser hair removal is them being responsible for the patriarchy. where does it say that in the post.

if i didn't know these posts were about carson's post i would probably not be able to figure it out because they're just so far removed from the actual point being made and it's so baffling to me. isn't it exhausting to take everything in bad faith. isn't it tiring to twist someone's words just to get mad at the version of them u made up in ur head. aren't you tired. isn't there something better to be doing

honestly fucking insane that carson said "i dont think women, cis or trans, should have to shave or get lazer hair removal to be respected and/or seen as women" and people went "wow i cant believe this person said that trans women shouldnt be able to get lazer hair removal" like What the fuck are you talking about . that's literally just not what carson said.

[connieshusband]

Fucking hate you, love to fuck you

Hate sex

Oikawa x fem!reader

"fuck you!" "Is that a promise?"

4k

reader was the captain and ace of the girls team, reader goes to Aoba Josai, reader is also Kag's cousin

Degradation, Slight Feminization Kink, Praise Kink, Fluffy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'm not very good at writing smut, I also got tired while writing so its short... sorry, Sir Kink: but very minor, no beta we die like men

-cross posted on my ao3:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/31932412

MINORS DNI

Summary:

You hadn't registered that you'd slapped him until he look at you holding his red cheek with his large hand.

And you certainly hadn't registered that he had his tongue down your throat not a moment later. An honest to god moan leaving your lips which he smugly ate up.

___

Degration as well as any kink should have the full consent of all parties involved every time!!

I'm not very good at e2l so be gentle 🤩

I'm such a simp lmao

Oikawa could never figure out why you hated him when you both entered your first year of high school. Having come from a different middle school than you, he figured you'd be like the rest of the people in your grade level and fall all over him.

He wanted to ask why you had such a large stick up your ass during your first group project but chickened out. He assumed you'd at least get along as you were captain of the girls volleyball team and known for your powerful spikes. The setter in him really wanted to find out your perfect toss.

But it wasn't until your 3rd year when he came to despise you too.

He'd overheard you telling your best friend that your cousin made it onto his high schools volleyball team. Being the nosey Nelly that he is, he made the mistake of asking which school your cousin attended.

"Karasuno," you said, your chest puffed out.

It clicked: the black hair, intense expression, the last name even. He could practically see his protégé in the reflection of your eyes. He mentally slapped himself for not seeing it sooner.

His eyes narrowed, matching yours as tension of your silent beat down had to be cut by Iwazumi.

_____

You set down your suitcase, giving your aunt a big hug as she greeted you in the doorway. You give Tobio a fist bump as he helps you carry your things into the spare bedroom.

Your aunt had graciously allowed you to stay with her so you could be closer to school for your final year.

"I can't believe you're dropping volleyball club just as I'm about to join," Tobio whined, setting a suitcase on a chair in the corner of the room.

"I know," you said sullenly. You hadn't wanted to, but being captain and a 3rd year just wasn't going to be practical. Not being the best student, you thought it would be a wise decision.

Having always been close your your cousin on your dad's side came with its perks, including but not limited to drama. Ever since Tobio had joined volleyball in middle school he'd talked about Oikawa, usually brushing off some of the down right nasty things he'd said. But you hadn't. You took it upon yourself to help him train harder and harder to be able to defeat his bully when he'd found out he couldn't attend Aoba Josai with you.

Being an ace had its advantages when teaching Tobio about different techniques on how to set up a spiker best. Often gossiping about the smug bastard as you worked.

Of course, there was no escaping the pretty boy at school either. When your best friend, Ryu, had started dating his best friend Iwaizumi, being the 3rd and 4th wheel at hangouts became increasingly awkward.

And even worse when she mentioned your current math grade. Damn that ginger setter. And Mr. Perfect boasting about his grades to you. Which had lead you to your current situation.

Sitting in his bedroom.

Listening to him drawl on and on with rapidly decreasing interest.

While he looked hot as fuck.

What?!

With new found annoyance you scoffed at him snapping his fingers in your face.

"earth to y/n, I know I'm ravishing, but now it's math time." He said, a smirk decorating his lips.

“I ignored you on purpose, dumbass. Don't you get that I hate you?"

"I'm not asking you to stay, besides this has nothing to do with me?? Its calculus..."

"narcissist," you mumbled under your breath.

"must be your type," he shot back, "gawking at me for the last hour."

"aren't you dating whats-her-face from English?" You retorted, feeling your face heat up.

"yeah??" he said, confused.

You mocked his confusion, ""yeah" God, then stop flirting with me."

He scoffed, an eyebrow disappearing into bangs, "you must be a narcissist if you think I'm flirting with you because wow, it almost like I can't stand the sight of you, y/n," he rolled his eyes in disgust, sitting up in his chair indignantly.

You push him back into his chair, turning on your heels, saying nothing more.

"good!! I was going to kick you out anyway!"

____

You notice his current girlfriend wasn't hanging out with him at lunch nor sitting in his lap during English. In fact. He hadn't found new arm candy by the time your next session rolled around the following week.

___

After begrudgingly agreeing to do another tutoring session and making him promise no funny business, that rule was broken when he had his sleeves rolled up of his blue silk shirt, he glasses laying forgotten on the table, fingers rubbing his tired eyes as he tried to explain a difficult problem to you.

How could Tooru Oikawa be so fucking sexy and such a fucking dick at the same time?

Asking myself this a lot while writing

"fuck you, Oikawa! I don't need your bullshit!"

"fine! Fucking go then!" Giving you a light shove towards the door.

You hadn't registered that you'd slapped him until he look at you holding his red cheek with his large hand.

And you certainly hadn't registered that he had his tongue down your throat not a moment later. An honest to god moan leaving your lips which he smugly ate up.

You shoved him against his bed, your own smugness drinking up his moan.

You pulled your tank top off as you climbed on top of him. "You have condoms?" You asked, cringing at your breathless voice.

He flipped your position, hot breath fanning your ear, "don't you want to be filled with my cum, baby?"

Rolling your eyes, you flipped the position again, "the last thing the world needs is more of you running around."

He considered it before saying with a shrug "top drawer."

Leaning over, your legs still gripping his hips, you pulled out a condom wrapper and tossed it at his face. His nose scrunching cutely.

"pull some weight, lazykawa," you said, yanking his pants and underwear to his ankles. He was already fully hard and you took great satisfaction in wordlessly teasing him.

Trying to ignore you, a blush creeping up around his ears as he hurriedly rolling the condom onto his thick length, as you remove your bra. He flips your position once more, hovering over you, a taunting smirk plastered over his lips.

"can't go 10 minutes without getting your greedy pussy fucked?"

"Can't that mouth do anything besides half-assed insults, Shittykawa?" You mocked, he raised a cheeky eye brow at you.

He lowered his face to you heat, "want to find out?" You grip his hair harshly and shove his face between your thighs.

He rips off you panties and eagerly laps around your cunt before catching himself, slowing his ministrations.

He gripped your thighs as he buried his face in your heat. Alternating between sucking in your clit and finger fucking you, never letting you get both at the same time.

You bit your tongue, doing your best to avoid begging for more - a futile endeavor.

"C'mon babygirl, I know you want it," he sing-songed

You swallowed your pride, "please Tooru."

"sorry couldn't hear you, your legs were busy clamping around my ears.

Your legs shook in frustration and pleasure as he lazily drummed his finger on your sweet spot.

He leaned overtop of you, sucking harshly in your neck as his other hand massages your ass.

"please, Tooru! Please sir!"

"oo~" he remarks, returning between your legs, 3 fingers entering you suddenly as he nibbled along your thigh, quickly returning to sucking on your clit.

You come hard and without warning.

"delicious," he remarks, sitting up and licking his fingers clean, "and so many lewd noises too."

"You have a knack for bringing out the worst in people," you attempt to sound threatening but only succeeding in boosting his ego.

"Oh no~ I hate to find out what the best would be..." He unbuttons his blue silk shirt, allowing you to drink up the full show of his abs. "Not talking so big now, eh, Kageyama?"

You scowl at him before grunting a "just fuck me already".

"don't mind if I do."

You connected your lips with his, enjoying the noises he made as his neglected cock became engulfed in your warmth.

Neither of you lasted long.

He emptied himself into the rubber with a sexy grunt lining up with your moan.

After care he collapsed on top of you, his deep breaths matching yours.

Your hands still resting on his back, feeling scratches from your nails decorating his skin.

He had pressed his forehead to yours, you looked up to meet his eyes which were flitting between the purple marks on your neck and your eyes.

He hadn't held your gaze for more than a second when the realization of what just happened hit both of you at once. Pushing your bodies apart, you shamefully picked up your clothes from the floor leaving the room quickly.

____

It had been weeks since that day. You hadn't gone back for another tutoring session, claiming to Ryu that your grades had improved.

The free time had allowed you to be a better supporter for your cousin, getting a chance to meet his teammates and his friends.

You meet Karasuno's Ryu and think to yourself how well he and your Ryu would get along

While hanging out with your cousin at the spring tournament, you were enjoying a lunch break with a vibrant ginger, his best friend Hinata and a mutual friend with spiky hair. Bokuto, you had learned, was in your year and had a ton in common with you.

Maybe you'd gotten carried away returning his flirty looks and laughing a little too hard at his jokes. He remarked often how different your personality was from your cousin. After exchanging numbers to practice volleyball sometime (him being excited to practice with another captain/ace) an unfortunately familiar voice pulled you away from your fun.

"y/n?"

"what?" You roll your eyes, at Oikawa. You knew he had been watch you and the rest of Karasuno after they had win their first game. Beside you, you can feel the 3 boys, especially Tobio fuming.

"I have a question about the math assignment."

"I'm busy."

"too bad."

Recognizing that he wasn't going to go away until you give in, you stand up, brushing the dust from your bottoms. He leads the way out of sight from your new friends.

He harshly pushes you against the wall, "what do you think you're doing princess?"

You flip your position, he winced as his back connects with the concrete wall. "You ask you the same thing, princess."

His hand instinctively wrapped around your muscular arm submissively.

"you like that don't you?" You asked.

He nervously glanced around him for on lookers. Luckily he'd chosen a pretty secluded spot

"wouldn't want your fan girls to see you being treated like the pretty white you are?" You smirked.

He nodded shyly.

You grabbed his ass, earning a submissive squeak from him.

"such a good princess, getting his flat ass groped," you smile, you see him swallow a moan as his eyes flutter shut.

You begin painfully slowly palming him through his shorts, feeling him grow under you.

"I hope you lose," you whisper sensually into his ear.

He scowls at you as you pull away completely. Leaving him hard, exposed, and blushing as you return to your new friends.

______

The cheers from Karasuno's supporters hadn't quieted down as the team packed up. Still high on adrenaline and pride for your baby cousin, you took the time to use the bathroom before the long drive home.

Rounding the corner you heard voices, recognizing one to be Oikawa and the other belonging to a deep voiced man.

Sneaking a peak your eyes go wide. He was face to face with Ushiwaka. The former not fairing well in the conversation. You didn't think a man could look for upset than the way Oikawa looked right now.

As the conversation comes to a close, you wait until Oikawa has gone out if sight to chase after him. Accidentally running into Ushiwaka.

"sorry" you mumble, attempting to move past.

"you're with karasuno, yes?" Ushiwaka asks.

Your mind didn't really register him, instead giving him a quick pat on the shoulder and a "that's great, buddy," as you run after the brunette.

Hearing an "I look forward to playing them." In the distance.

"Hey!"

He was too far ahead to really hear you, pushing past the front doors.

"HEY!" You yell, nearly at his heels. You stand in the doorway breathing hard, "TOORU!"

He turns to face you, Iwaizumi annoyed that he can't convince their captain to just get on the bus already.

You beckon him over and he skeptically approaches you.

"here to gloat?" He asks, his voice lacking the usual sharpness.

"Tobio is staying at Hinata's tonight and my aunt is out is town for the next two days," you say.

You see the cogs working as he pieces together what you're offering. His mouth forming an 'o' shape as he realizes.

You smile smugly before running back to where Karasuno's bus is parked, giving Tobio a running jump hug, which he awkwardly returned.

__

If nothing else, Oikawa was punctual. Arriving at exactly at 7:30. You hadn't done anything special, just heated up 2 frozen pizzas that your aunt had left. Watching his form as he quietly ate his 3 cheese. He hadn't said a word besides "thank you" after you'd served him. While yes, apart of you meant when you'd said that you hoped he lose but the guilt of seeing the cocky bastard looking so small on the other side of the table, nibbling on the crust. Pity maybe?

"You played really we-"

His eyes were red, his pride keeping him from crying in front of you. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You want to have sex?"

he hesitated before asking, "can we be nice?"

You nodded. Making your way to his chair, straddling his hips and cupping his face. You kissed him slow and deliberate. You don't kiss long before you start to feel his dick springing to life. You stand up pulling him, walking backwards, towards your room accidentally walking into the partially open door.

"Graceful," he commented, a hint of his salty tone under his words as he resumed kissing you.

You grinded against each other for a few moments, drinking in each others moans. You pulled away momentarily, his cheeks dusted pink, breathing heavy, his dick straining in his pants.

"You're so beautiful," you said. He blushed harder, his cock twitching in it's confines. Your fingers dip under the waistband of his pants and pull them down, licking your lips when his cock hits his stomach. You're about to press your lips to his tip when you feel pressure on your forehead.

"y-you don't have to..." he says. You cock your head to one side, your lips parted as you gaze up at him. "I-I get it you know... I don't hold it against you..."

"I want to," you say, "if you want me to."

He nods slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as he enters your warm mouth.

Out of all the sex you'd had, this moment with Tooru didn't feel like sex. It felt like making love.

After he got close, you popped your mouth off and had ridden him. His muscles still sore from his games. Your lips danced with his as his hips met yours. Both of you reaching your climax simultaneously.

Tired in the best way, you cuddle up to his bare chest, kissing his cheek, "don't think this means I like you, flatass."

"of course," he says, relaxing into your touch.

"good."

"it was the fact that my dick was down your throat that made be think that."

You punch him in the ribs, earning an 'ouch' followed by a quiet, "let me have one win today." Followed by an even quieter "sorry" from you.

You place a gentle kiss on his cheek again before returning to your snuggle position. He wraps his arms around your waist as you both drift off to sleep.

______

It's been a number of days and neither if you had spoken about it. You wanted to text him a simple 'good morning' but the image of him quietly shuffling out of your room at the crack of dawn when he thought you were still sleeping, placing a gentle kiss on your temple. You didn't want to seem too eager or somehow let on that not only were you awake but had enjoyed when he'd done it.

After the girls had lost to Fukurodani's girls in the semi finals, Ryu had insisted on dragging you out to play volleyball with her and some 'friends'. You secretly hope it's the other girls from your team. You find yourself not disappointed that it's Iwaizumi and Oikawa.

"Warm up 'Yama!" Oikawa yells at you, serving the ball in your direction as you and Ryu approach.

Caught off guard for a moment, you return the ball back at him, hitting his face lightly with an oof.

Of course, Ryu wanted to set for her boyfriend, leaving you with Oikawa.

You made a pretty good team, he picked up your style quickly, the ball exactly where you wanted it without having to tell him anything. Not to mention that Oikawa had racked up a third of the points on service aces alone, Iwaizumi finally adjusting to being on the receiving end on them. He and Ryu had made a magnificent comeback, clearly having practiced with each other before. You were lucky if you could get a piece of one of Iwa's spikes, Tooru faired better but they quickly took the lead. You grab Oikawa's arm, causing him to look at you curiously.

"set it to me, but I'll set it back. You spike it," you said, finishing your sentence by looking at him.

He considers it.

"break it up love birds!" Iwa shouted at you. Ryu making obnoxious kissing noises behind him. You quickly let go of his arm to flip her off, causing her to burst out laughing.

Iwa serves.

"it's mine!" Tooru yells. Mid jump, he faces you, the subtlest of winks as the ball flies into the air.

Smiling, you angle your body for a spike, Ryu taking the bait, but at the last moment, your hand sent the ball perpendicular to the net, straight into Oikawa's hand. The ball whizzing past Iwa's ear.

The adrenaline getting the better of you as you both embrace, celebrating a successful kill.

You revel in you best friend and her stoic boyfriend exchanging a bewildered look.

At the end of the game Oikawa offers to drive you home, when out of the way of prying eyes, he leans against his car. "Before your cousin goes to nationals, he and shorty should play against us."

"Yeah and maybe Tobio can set for me one round," you say, playing with the hem of his shirt, "but if there's any funny business from you, I'm calling it off."

"Who, me??" he jokes, aware of his history with your family.

You don't respond, opting to gently press your lips to his. He returns the kiss, cupping your face.

________________

Did I write myself into the story? ┐( ∵ )┌ Maybe a little...

I'm also not opposed to doing a part two, so lemme know in the comments ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

Also not me writing my first Haikyuu fic be Oikawa when I wanna break his knees 🥴🤚 (couldn't resist tho he's been on my mind, especially with glasses 🥵🤒)

Also also not me writing this from 1:30 am to 8am then had half my work deleted so I had to redo it the following night 🤪👈

[bonnyskies]

deadly agenda ⇢ myg

min yoongi is a dangerous man. you’re a manipulative wife. together, you two are a deadly duo, and you both have your own agenda.

pairing — emperor!yoongi x wife!malereader ft. king-husband!taehyung

genres — angst, sexual themes, royalty!au, strangers-to-lovers!au

warnings — age-gap (reader is 20, yoongi is 28), swearing, degrading terms, mentions of death, feminization, descriptions of murder, sexual themes, infidelity, betrayal, slight voyeurism, yoongi is intimidating and reader is manipulative, basically they’re just plain evil

author’s note — i hate tumblr’s new update. i had more to write (not enough for a part two) but couldn’t because of the new 250 text box rule. but as for this story, this is probably the longest one i’ve written so far and the one i’m most proud of. anyway, hope you all enjoy and sorry for taking so long to upload this, took lots of planning and rewriting, plus i’ve been busy with school too.

word count — 7.4k

masterlist

Min Yoongi is a cautious, yet observant man.

Whoever steps foot in his palace, he makes sure to know everything about them. Who they are, they’re background, appearance, and how they approach him. Each and every thing can help him learn who he can trust, and who he cannot, who are his allies—and who are his enemies.

Yoongi stood by his palace’s entrance, accompanied with his guards and greeted his special guests, one by one as they walked up his home’s grand steps. He makes sure to take notes on each and every person’s facial expression, their appearance, chosen attire, and the certain way they walk up to him.

Anything could benefit him into knowing them. Their wealth and clan can be identified based on their specific appearance and choice of clothing. Their facial expressions help him learn what their true feelings and intentions are towards him that are hidden by their fake smiles and words. And lastly, the way they walk up to him can help him know the type of personality they have, whether that be obedient and innocent, or arrogant and untrustworthy.

The way he learns about his guests have never failed him. That was, until he met you.

Yoongi would be lying if he said he wasn’t astonished when his eyes laid on you for the first time. There were many things that left him utterly speechless when meeting you. For one, when his advisor told him that his guest would be bringing his wife, he was expecting a woman—not a man.

Another thing that left Yoongi speechless was your appearance, mostly your attire. You were dressed in feminine-like clothing, silk robes that were decorated with gold jewelry instead of fine material clothing with armor plating like what many men of royalty wear. And you also didn’t hold a blade like most men do too. Instead, you held a simple wooden decorative fan.

And lastly, your eyes.

Yoongi has a remarkable judge of character. Maybe not as good when it came to you, but still adequate. On the outside, your eyes were shining with gentleness and a kind greeting. But he could tell there was something else hidden behind them—something that left him intrigued by you.

You had an agenda—plans, and Yoongi was determined to find out what they are.

The welcoming feast was extremely dull.

Yoongi absorbed gallons of wine into his system, hoping that would help numb his mind and get through the rest of the evening without having to tear somebody’s head off from their body.

And apparently you thought the same as he did. Across the table, Yoongi watched as you fanned yourself out of boredom while everyone else were socializing with one another, an unamused facial expression shown on your face. Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle behind his glass when seeing one of the other wives say something to you and you flashed her a quick smile before dropping it back down into a straight line.

It seems his attention on you didn’t go unnotice because next thing he knew, your eyes were now on him. Yoongi was expecting hints of disgust or uncomfort from you, but instead he was met with sly smirk and a raised brow.

Yoongi watches intently as you leaned over and whispered into your husband’s ear. Your husband—Kim Taehyung then stood up from his seat and bowed his head, “Excuse me, your Majesty.”

Yoongi turned his head towards your husband, diverting his attention completely away from you.

“My wife is not feeling well at the moment, so with your permission, would it be alright if he can take his leave from the feast early?”

The entire dining hall fell silent, shocked expressions plastered on everyone’s faces at the table.

Nobody has ever dared to leave one of Min Yoongi’s feasts before. Who would want to, right? It’s considered a great honor for one self and their kingdom to be invited by the Emperor himself to attend one of his events.

Whispers began to spread amongst the guests.

“How shameless is Kim Taehyung’s wife?”

“Wanting to leave the Emperor’s feast early? Utterly shameless I tell you.”

“That Taehyung needs to discipline his wife.”

“Doesn’t he know how important his Majesty’s events are? And he wants to leave just because he isn’t feeling well? Unbelievable.”

“He needs to learn some manners—”

Anxiety swept across Taehyung’s face when hearing the gossips coming from the other royals, eyes wide and mouth gaped open with panic. “Forgive me, your Majesty, I never intended to—”

With just the clear of his throat, everybody fell silent once again and all eyes were now on him. Yoongi’s gaze would shift between you and your husband, curiosity filling his veins when noticing that there wasn’t any signs of illness presently visible on you. You weren’t trembling, your eyes weren’t red and skin wasn’t showing any signs of flushness. You looked fine.

That only caused more questions to form in Yoongi’s mind. Like, what do you exactly want, and what is your reason for being here? Because according to his advisor, you weren’t even part of the guest list until today. That only raised even more suspicions he had towards you.

And it’s not like he can just throw you out—actually, he can. It’s just that he doesn’t want to because now he’s curious, and he wants to see how things turn out.

“He can go,” Yoongi says a brief silence, immediately noticing the small smile creeping onto your lips. “But take him to see the physician and let him check him out,” and then it dropped.

“N-No, your Majesty,” you spoke up, lips parted. “You don’t have to do that—”

“You’re feeling unwell, right?” Yoongi then asks, smirking at the silence he got in reply. “Well, you should let my physician diagnose you then. Don’t worry though, you’re in great hands.”

One of his guards that stood by his side approached you and started to guide you to the physician’s office. And while you were leaving, Yoongi could see the glare coming from you and aimed right at him.

If you wanted to play games with him, he’ll play.

Wandering through the palace halls at night was something Yoongi usually does whenever he can’t sleep.

And apparently you had the same tendency too.

While mindlessly strolling through his palace’s hallways, Yoongi’s eyes suddenly landed on your approaching figure, the first thing catching his attention was your choice of clothing. You were dressed in golden inner robes, your sleep-wear, and the material was so thin and transparent that every feature about you was visible to him. The sight of your clear, smooth skin and every curve of your body and muscles made his mouth water. It was like you were purposely dressed like that to seduce him.

Another thing that caught his eye was the small, slightly torn grayish book that was in your grasp, which was where your complete attention was on because you still haven’t noticed his presence despite the two of you walking towards the other.

“Hello, your Highness,” you jumped out of fear, eyes wide and closing your book when your gaze landed on him. “May I ask why you are wandering around my palace this late at night?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you simply answered, fingers tight around the cover the book, which only made Yoongi even more curious as to what you were exactly reading. “And it seems you are having the same problem as well, am I correct?”

Yoongi only hummed in reply, taking another small step towards you until you two now stood only inchest apart, him towering over you and staring down right at you. “Is there something wrong with your chambers? I can tell my servants to move you and your husband into a more comfortable place for you—”

“No no, your Majesty,” you were quick to interject. “Everything is perfect. It’s just that I’ve always had trouble sleeping at another royal’s residence, that’s all.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but find your reason funny, because he has always had trouble sleeping when there were other people staying in his palace.

A brief silence came between you two before Yoongi spoke up once again, “I’ll be taking a quick walk around my garden, you can accompany me if you like.” He didn’t wait for your reply before leaving, but when hearing the sound of your footsteps behind him right after, a smirk grew on his lips.

“You know, you never really introduced yourself when we first met,” Yoongi then brought up while the two of you made your way to the gardens.

“Forgive me, your Majesty,” you bowed your head apologetically before replying, “My name is ___, Kim ___.”

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Kim ___,” Yoongi reached down and took your hand into his, pressing a soft, yet tender kiss on the back of your palm, smirking at the evident blush forming on your cheeks. “And I’ve got to say, you are looking quite well for someone that claimed to be feeling sick not even three hours ago,” and that is when your smile dropped.

“Must’ve been my anxiety,” you were quick to reply back, your eyes never leaving his. “After all, I am staying at the Emperor’s palace for the first time.”

Yoongi was impressed honestly, he had to admit. For everything he had to say against you, you had something say right back at him. There isn’t a lot of people who have that type of skill to think of words—believeable words right on the spot. Anybody would believe what you were saying—too bad he isn’t just anybody.

“Must be...,” Yoongi just says, eyeing you slightly. His gaze then shifted onto the book in your hand. “What are you reading there?”

“Oh this,” you held the book up, “It’s called Flowers of the Region—a guide to every type of flower that is grown and can be found in both the South and the North. It’s my favorite book.”

“Well, that’s fortunate,” Yoongi points out, “you like flowers, and we so happen to be going to my garden. What’s your favorite flower?”

“Lily of the Valley,” you answer with a smile. “Have you heard of it?”

“I have,” Yoongi replied, his interest towards you growing even more. Lily of the Valley, despite the beautiful features of the white flower, it is proven to be quite deadly when digested. “They are only found on top of the Southern mountains—but lucky for you, I happen to grow them right here in my garden.”

Your smile grew even wider. “That’s great.”

The rest of the walk to the gardens was in silence with you trailing forward while Yoongi stood back. And with your eyes focused on the path in front of you, Yoongi couldn’t help but send glances at you every once in a while, his eyes burning into your back, admiring at the clear view your smooth skin through the thin, transparent material of your inner robes.

He surely needs to give whoever crafted your sleepwear a raise—and a big one too.

When the two of you finally got to the gardens, you were left instantly speechless at the sight of the many plots of different flowers, ranging from beautiful, vibrant ones that were quite common to dark, mysterious ones that you’ve never even seen before.

Yoongi couldn’t deny how adorable you looked though when seeing his garden for the first time, eyes wide, shining with admiration and your mouth gaped open.

“This is beautiful,” you gasped, leaning down and running your fingers delicately over some flowers.

“Thank you,” Yoongi stood beside you, “I make sure my gardeners take good care of this place.”

Silenced filled the atmosphere as Yoongi stood back and silently watched you admiring the many flowers. Normally he’d be annoyed for someone touching his property, but for some odd reason when it came to you he didn’t mind so much. Perhaps it’s because this might be the only way for him to get close to you and learn about your true intentions—or maybe he just really wants to fuck you.

Yoongi found himself once again staring at you, watching as you bent over to get a closer look at one of the flowers, giving him a perfect view of your ass and hips, both in which he wants to grab and caress with his large hands.

“So,” Yoongi spoke up after some silence, “how exactly did you become the new Lady Kim?”

Yoongi instantly noticed the way your body tensed from his question. “I was his Highness’s personal servant. When his wife suddenly passed away, he was a complete mess and I was the only one that stayed by his side through the entire mourning process. I was the one that comforted him whenever he was feeling down, I made sure he was taking care of himself and helped him with his royal duties.”

Yoongi then noticed your shoulder slumping. “After about a month or so, he started seeking me for a...different kind of comfort.” Sex. “Soon later he decided to make his new wife—the new Lady Kim.”

“You don’t seem so happy about the change in position,” Yoongi commented, “I’m sure this is much better than being a simple servant. You’re a royal now.”

“Oh, I am,” you quickly corrected him, “But being a man and having a feminine title can sometimes make things complicated.”

“Well then, don’t make them complicated.” Yoongi suggested, “You’re not a servant anymore, you’re a royal. They may not respect you now, but you have the power to make them do so.”

“Don’t worry, I know,” you told him sternly. “They’ll learn to respect me. Whether that be the hard way or the easy way—it’s their choice. So you better watch out, your Majesty, or something bad might happen to you,” you laughed softly.

Yoongi released a forceful chuckle, eyes briefly squinting at you suspiciously. It may have sound like a harmless joke, but to him, he could hear the small hints of truth behind them. “Oh trust me, I will. I wouldn’t want you as an enemy.”

“And you as well,” you replied, eyeing him back.

Silence came between you two again, Yoongi leaving you to inspect his garden in peace while he stood back and watched you. It wasn’t until an hour has passed you spoke up again, yawning, “we should head back to bed, your Majesty. We have that conference in the morning with the other royals and we need the energy.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi agreed, nodding and stepping aside so that you could walk ahead of him and back inside the place with him following right beside you. “Let me walk you back to your room.”

You didn’t say anything, only held your head low to hide the small grin on your face as the both of you made your back to the chambers. And as you two got closer to your destination, you both were froze at the sound of moaning.

Yoongi was confused at first as who it could be, but when turning to you and seeing the hardened expression on your face, he knew.

“O-Oh, Taehyung—f-faster, please!”

Yoongi was speechless. He knew many royals took on concubines while being married, but he didn’t know someone could so shameless as to bringing them to another person’s residence alongside their spouse. “Your Highness—”

“Don’t bother, your Majesty,” you spoke calmly, eyes hard and emotionless. “I’m use to it by now and it doesn’t really bother me anymore.”

“Really, it doesn’t?”

You shook your head. “At first it did, but after sleeping with my husband so many times I have learned that the only person he cares to satisfy is himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle. What kind of husband doesn’t have the desire to satisfy is own wife? Maybe he should take you to his chambers and show you exactly what you’re missing. “Well, I-I’m still sorry for you.”

You simply shrugged your shoulders, “it doesn’t matter, your Majesty. Have a good night.”

Yoongi watched as you then opened the door went inside the chamber, causing your husband and the woman to stop and look at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t mind me,” you said to them, not even bothering to glance at them, shocking Yoongi. “I’ll be on the balcony reading my book. Just let me when you two are done.”

Taehyung’s attention instantly went back to the woman that was straddling his lap when hearing your words, hands kneading her breasts and hips and started thrusting back up into her, causing moans to erupt from both of them. Yoongi didn’t why, but the sight of them made his blood boil.

Maybe he should go in there and fuck you in front of your husband? That’ll show him what he is missing out.

Yoongi continued to watch through the crack in the door as you walked past the couple and went onto the balcony. And once you were out of his sight, that’s when he finally got a clear view of the woman on your husband’s lap, and he instantly recognized her. She was one of the servants that accompanied you and Taehyung here. Yoongi distinctly remembered seeing her earlier today, serving you tea after you got back from seeing the physician.

Yoongi glared at the couple, scoffing at the sight. What did that Kim Taehyung see in that whore of a servant that you don’t have?

You are far more enticing than she is.

Taking one last glance at the shameless couple, Yoongi retreated back to his chambers. And while he did so, his mind suddenly went back to you. How did someone so...unique end up with a man like Kim Taehyung? He’s a weak person, a shame to royal blood. You deserve to be with someone with real power, someone who would never leave you unsatisfied, both physically and emotionally. Someone like me.

Yoongi could feel himself harden just from the thought of you.

Damn you for having this type of power over me, his mind cursed. Yoongi has slept with countless of other royals before, both men and women, and he has never encountered someone like you.

You are truly something else.

“Damn,” Yoongi mumbled out to nobody in particular, palming himself through his robes. “How the hell am I going to get rid of this?”

And right on queue, a young servant boy just happened to be walking right by Yoongi when the question ran through his head.

“Stop,” was all he said, making the servant boy freeze in his place.

“Y-Yes, your Majesty?”

Yoongi took slow, intimidating steps towards him until he was towering over him, using his hands to cup his chin and forcing the servant boy to meet his eyes. “How would you feel having the honor of spending the night with your Emperor?”

The servant boy couldn’t stop the small smile from forcing on his face. “I-I would love that, your Majesty.”

That was Yoongi needed to hear before leaning down capturing the servant’s boys lips with his, hands moving to his thighs and hoisting him up in his arms and carrying him into his chambers, lips never separating.

“You’re a eager one, are you?” Yoongi chuckled against the servant boy’s mouth, moving his lips down his neck and forcing a whimpering moan from him.

“I-It’s my duty to serve y-you, your Majesty.”

That brought a smile on Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi couldn’t find you anywhere the next day.

He couldn’t find at you breakfast, he couldn’t find you during the conference with the other royals and their wives, and he couldn’t find you at lunch. Now as dinner was approaching, there still wasn’t any sign of you anywhere.

But he had no problem finding your husband. Wherever he saw Taehyung, he saw that whore of a servant trailing behind him like a pet—but you no where to be seen.

Yoongi thought about approaching him to ask about your whereabouts, but he couldn’t help but think of the consequences that would happen afterwards. But that still didn’t stop him from sending glares at the younger royal and the servant every now and then, which didn’t go unnotice by either of them.

“Is there something wrong, your Majesty,” Taehyung finally asks, breaking the tensed silence between the two of them. “You’ve been staring at me all day today and haven’t said a single word.”

“Oh nothing,” Yoongi simply replies, eyes still trained on him while twirling his glass of wine. “Just wondering where your wife is at right now, since everyone else is here. Is he still not feeling well from last night?”

For a very very brief moment, Yoongi could see panic glinting in his eyes before answering, “o-oh yes, your Majesty, he told me that he’s still feeling unwell so I allowed him stay back in the room.”

Liar, was Yoongi’s first thought, eyes glaring even more at the long, black-haired royal.

Everyone at the table could feel the tension between their Emperor and the young royal, and still no one chose to speak up about it.

Yoongi had a reputation. He is the first ever Emperor to achieve the throne through combat rather than family bloodline—and he is also the youngest ruler to ever be placed higher than a simple king. But that weren’t the only things he was known for. He was also generally known for being intelligent and quite reserved, and cruel if absolutely necessary, and also able to hold a grudge. It may sound simple, but everybody knew that if their Emperor had something against you, your days were limited.

So that’s why nobody chose to speak up when seeing the menancing glares their Emperor were sending at the youngest and only surviving Kim. Because they knew if they intervened, they’d only anger him and get on his list, and that’s the exact opposite of what they want to do.

“Your Majesty,” his advisor suddenly whispered right beside him. “I think it would be a good idea to continue the meeting. Some of your guests has some things to say about the...improvements you’re doing to the North.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw, eyes scanning over Taehyung once more before turning his attention to the other royals. “Sure,” he then says, “which one of you want to speak first?”

Not even a second later, Park Jimin, ruler of the Park Kingdom stood up from his seat and spoke. “Your Majesty, my council and I believe that the border that you have placed around my region is completely unnecessary.”

“How so?” Yoongi asks, leaning back against his chair with an amused look on his face. He had to admit that he was impressed that the blonde man was the first to speak up. He may not be the youngest royal out of everyone, but he certainly is the one with the least experience when it came politics.

“For starters your border cuts right through my kingdom’s river, slicing our water supply in half,” he starts, voice slightly raising. “And the amount of wood you required for the construction of the wall resulted in about ninety percent of the forests in my region to be completely cut down, forcing most of my workers into unemployment.”

Yoongi continued to listen closely with his hands laced together and resting on top of his chest, rocking back and forth in his chair with an intent glint in his eyes.

“I also find it completely unfair how your border only crosses over my kingdom but no one else’s.” Jimin continued to rant, jamming his finger repeatedly angerly against the table while keeping his eye contact with him. “I think it’s not for protection like you have claimed many of times, but as a prison, to keep my people in check. You’re nothing but a—”

Yoongi slammed his hand heavily onto the table, instantly silencing the young royal and causing everyone to gulp nervously. He may at times find it amusing when someone fights back, but he will never allow anyone to talk down against him, not in his own residence.

“You think I built that wall as a prison?” Yoongi asks, chuckling when the blonde man didn’t reply. “Are you forgetting what happened before I built that wall? Spies from the South would come right into our territories and would gather information on us, murder our people in their sleep—that’s how your parents died, am I correct? Some spy that sneaked into their palace assassinated them when they were asleep? It would such a shame if the same thing happens to you—after I take down the wall, of course.”

Yoongi smirked when noticing the seeing Jimin’s jaw clenching and hands angrily balling into fists. “So don’t you ever accuse me again? Because everything I do is for the best of my people, not just yours. The wall is only bordering your land because your land is the only one that connects with the South.”

Jimin’s head hung low, hands unclenching and lips dropping into the frown.

“So before you come at me, you should make sure that you have all the information, do you understand me?” Jimin nodded and sat down.

Everybody tensed when Yoongi then stood up from his seat and slowly, intimidatingly made his way to Jimin’s chair. And when placing his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle when feeling him jump slightly underneath his touch. “Normally I’d kill anyone who spoke to me that way,” leaning down, he whispered into Jimin’s ear, sending chills along his pale skin, “but I’ll let it slide for once since you’re new to this whole thing.”

“T-Thank you, your Majesty.”

With one last pat on the shaking man’s shoulder, Yoongi pulled away, and he was standing straight again, his eyes suddenly fell on your figure who stood near the entrance of the conference hall. But you weren’t alone, no, three servants that he couldn’t recognize was with you. The four of you seemed to be in a deep conversation, and with everybody focused on him, nobody noticed you.

Yoongi’s eyes slightly squinted out of suspicion when seeing you then bow your head at the three servants, a smile on your face before each of you went your separate ways.

Yoongi is definitely going to look into that.

“Now,” returning his attention back to his guests, Yoongi leaned himself against the table, keeping close to the blonde man that was still trembling. “Does anyone else have anything to say to me?”

“N-No no, your Majesty,” Jung Hoseok, another royal spoke up, gulping anxiously as he tightened his hand around his wife’s who sat beside him. “We have no complaints whatsoever, you’re doing an amazing job—the perfect ruler.”

Kiss ass, Yoongi rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from the table. He then shifted his attention towards your husband and asks, “what about you, your Highness? Anything to say?”

Taehyung shook his head. “No, your Majesty.”

“What a bunch spineless people,” Yoongi’s mind scoffed, and he couldn’t agree more.

His advisor then rose from his chair and spoke up, “okay everyone, thank you all for attending his Majesty’s annual end of conference feast this year. You may all now return to your rooms and get some rest before heading back to your own residences in the morning.”

Yoongi stayed back and bid farewell to everyone, and once everyone was gone he left the conference hall with only one thing on his mind—you. He was determined to find out what exactly were you and those three servants were discussing about. Yoongi was so rapt on you that he didn’t even hear his advisor calling out of him to come back.

He practically jogged to the chambers hall, heading straight to your room and when he got there, just as he was about barge right through the door he was then stopped by a sudden sound. Moans could be heard on the other side of the door—female moans. Yoongi’s hands were already hovering over the door handle before he opened it slightly to where there was only a crack, giving him the view of seeing your husband with same servant girl from the night before.

Yoongi watches as she claws his back, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he place open mouth kisses along her bare chest and thrusted deep into her, causing loud, pleasurable moans to erupt from both of their mouths.

“T-Tae,” the young servant girl gasped, hands running up and down his sweaty back and fingers digging into his marked, glistening skin. “I’m close.”

“Me too, love,” he groaned back, leaning down and capturing her lips into a passionate kiss. “Together, okay...?”

Utterly shameless, Yoongi shook his head and pushed away from the door with disgust. Just as he was about to continue searching for you, he froze at the sound a voice behind him—a female voice.

“Are you looking for Lady Kim, your Majesty?”

Yoongi turned around and was greeted by one of your servants, hands laced together and hanging in front of her with a wide smile on her face. “No, I’m not,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. He expected her to just nod her head and leave, but instead she released a small chuckle and turned around, saying in a soft tone, “follow me.”

Yoongi was hesitant, eyes burning suspiciously into the servant girl’s back as she began to walk away. But he soon decided to follow her despite the constant warnings that were running through his head at the moment.

The servant’s gaze was trained on the path in front of her, not even bothering to acknowledge the glare she was receiving by platinum-haired man that was trailing right behind her.

The warnings that were consuming Yoongi’s head started to get louder as he continued to follow her deeper into his residence, parts of his home that he hasn’t even been in.

Yoongi stopped in his place when the servant led him to a room with dark, double doors. “What is this,” he asks with a cold expression, causing the young girl to chuckle and open the door without saying a word to him. He was about to question her even more but when he got to see what was behind the door, leaving him speechless.

Standing right in front him was you, along with over a dozen guards and servants that were from many different kingdoms. Some of the guards and servants were part of the Park Kingdom, some were from the Jung Kingdom, and others were from your own home.

“What’s going on here?” Yoongi asks, his eyes glancing across the many different pairs that were staring right back at him.

“They work for me,” came out of your mouth. “We are all part of movement that believes that the North needs a change in leadership—which is you. You’re the only that deserves to rule the North, not these cowards.”

Yoongi was speechless. For once in his life he didn’t know to say. For the first time he wasn’t the one that was planning in the shadows, plotting against somebody—but instead it was people who he has never even met before. “Why,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth.

“Because war is coming your Majesty,” you stepped towards him to where you stood only inches away from his face, staring up to meet his eyes. “My agents told me that the South is planning an invasion into our territory, and the way the other kingdoms are ruling their land—we won’t survive this war. You are the only one that is capable of leading us to victory.”

Yoongi turned towards your followers. “Do you all agree with him?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” one of the guards spoke up. Each and every person then stepped forward and began to speak loudly on their opinions of their leaders.

“Park Jimin is too young to be King—he doesn’t know how to rule.”

“He can’t even hold a sword properly.”

“Jung Hoseok is a spineless man!”

“Damn right he is! The moment the South comes barging intl his palace, he’ll do whatever it takes to save his own skin and not his people.”

“Kim Taehyung is shameless bastard who would rather spend his time fucking his servants than leading his own Kingdom.”

Yoongi could see you snicker at that comment.

“He spends our taxes buying whores instead of using it to improve our home.”

“None of them belong on the throne!”

“They are right, your Majesty,” you stared at him with a small smirk on your lips. “Out of everyone, you’re the only that deserves to rule us. You are the one who will lead us to glory.”

Yoongi stared down at you with such desire. He may have found you attractive before, but now he couldn’t help but find you utterly irresistible. “So this isn’t just some power trip? Doing all this just to get to the top?”

Yoongi had his suspicions already about the war. He has heard from his own agents that the South were planning on some sort of invasion, but there wasn’t any evidence that confirmed that. So sadly he hasn’t been able to do any preparations—at least, none without the other royals knowledge of it.

You shook your head. “I don’t care about power, your Majesty—only survival, and you’re the best way to achieve that.”

“I see,” Yoongi reached up and stroked his chin, “how would you all do this anyway? Kill the rulers of each Kingdom can be tricky, and what about their heirs?”

“It’s quite easy,” you answered with a small grin. “They all have their jobs,” you nodded at your followers, “once they are home and unguarded, that is when they’ll strike. And as for their heirs, well, that’s not really a problem.”

Yoongi raised a brow. “Jung Hoseok’s wife is unable to bare a child, and he also doesn’t have any younger siblings to take over. So once he passes, rulership of his Kingdom immediately goes over to you. Same goes for my husband and Park Jimin.”

“I see,” Yoongi hums, biting inside of his cheek. “So what’s my job then?”

You smirk. “The only thing you have to do is have your succession speech ready, your Majesty.”

“But I have another problem,” Yoongi added. “Many people already disagree with our war with the South. How will we manage to persuade them that this is necessary? It’ll be difficult since three of the four leaders of the North are dead.”

“Trust me, your Majesty,” you spoke with such clarity and a smile on your face. “Everything is planned out and you don’t have to worry.”

Yoongi didn’t replay, eyes briefly glancing at the people that surrounded him. You must’ve noticed his still cautious state because next thing he knew you were signaling everybody out, telling them to “get some rest and prepare for your departure in the morning.”

“Why are you doing this exactly?” Yoongi asks the moment you two were alone in the room. “Because there is no damn way you’re doing this just for survival. I mean,” he suddenly chuckles, “you are giving complete control of the North. What is your angle here? Are you going to kill me after all this is so that you become Emperor?” Yoongi was starting to get frustrated. He has never had trouble understanding someone before until he met you. And now because of you, his mind was a complete mess.

“That’s not my intention at all, your Majesty,” smiling up at him, you placed your hand on his shoulder, smirking at the feeling of him tensing underneath your fingertips. “All I want is for the North, my home—your home to finally come out of its shadow that it has been forced to hide in for centuries.”

“And you think I’m the one that can do that?”

“Yes,” you nod, fingers dancing across his chest. “I’ve read records of previous Emperors and you’re the only that deserves that title. Unlike the other ones, you are resilient, intelligent, ruthless if necessary, and you even fight alongside your men which no other Emperor has done before.”

As each compliment came out of your mouth, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel himself starting to get hard underneath his lower robes, and you running your hands seductively over his chest definitely wasn’t helping.

“How should I repay you for your kindness then,” Yoongi found himself melting against your touch, his hands finding their way into your waist. “Because someone like you definitely deserves an reward for their loyalty.” Yoongi then turns you around in one quick motion, causing you to gasp at the sudden action and feeling his strong chest pressed up against your back and lips brushing against your ear.

A tiny moan escaped from your lips when feeling his hard length suddenly rub against your ass, you yourself starting to get hard as well. “Should I buy you plenty of jewelry, or maybe a large palace just for you?” Yoongi then pushed you up against the wall, smirking at the small gasp that came from you. “Or perhaps,” another moan came out of your mouth when one of his hands slipped underneath your robes and caressed the soft flesh of your behind, “make you wife?”

Yoongi chuckled when feeling shiver against him. “Yeah, you would like that, huh? Being my wife, an Empress, ruling right beside me?”

“Y-Yes, your Majesty,” you stuttered out, tilting your head back from the sensation, giving Yoongi the opportunity to lean down and leaving wet, tender kisses along your neck and bare shoulder, leaving dark bruises that’ll be near impossible to cover up tomorrow morning.

“Good,” Yoongi left another mark on your skin, dragging his finger across your ass, teasing your clenching hole with his fingertip. “Then how about we—secure our deal, then? And when you nodded, that was all Yoongi needed before turning you around to face him and crashing his lips down forcefully onto yours. The kiss was rough, yet tender and filled with lust. With your hands around his neck, Yoongi’s slid down to your thighs and hoisted you up into his arms, deepening the kiss with his lips moving in perfect sync against yours.

The kiss was like a drug that neither of you couldn’t get enough of.

“Please, your Majesty,” you whimpered against his lips, which made Yoongi want you even more than he already did. “Can you please h-hurry?”

Yoongi smirked against your lips, pulling away. “Don’t worry, my love, just be patient.”

It was quite ironic though, because Yoongi was everything but patient when it came to you. He couldn’t wait any longer. Instead of carrying you all the way to his chamber, he laid you on the closest flat surface which happened to be a table and tore your robes completely off of you, leaving you bare and them in ruins.

Yoongi decided to take his sweet time with you, dragging his lips across your ankles, up your legs to your meaty thighs. He then began to leave open mouth kisses over your abdomen and up your chest, teasing your nipples with his tongue and grazing the wet muscle over your collarbone. Yoongi continued his assault on your body until he reached back up your lips, capturing them this time into a soft, passionate kiss which you gladly returned without a second thought, hands sliding up to his shoulders and helping him strip from his own robes, revealing his pale and toned body.

Your mouth watered at the sight of him, eyeing his define muscles, the way his abs clenched as he climbed onto the table and hovered over you, and the way his biceps bulged as he held himself above you. “Y-Your Majesty—”

“Yoongi,” he cut you off, pulling away and moving his lips to your throat. “Call me, Yoongi, my love.”

“Y-Yoongi,” you tried out, heart warming in both of your chests once hearing his name come out of your mouth. It sounded right coming from you. “Please—”

“Don’t worry, my love,” Yoongi reassured you, moving his lips back up to yours. “I’m here, I’m here. Let me show you how it feels to be loved by a real man, yeah?”

The night was then soon filled with nothing but the sound your combined moans, skin slapping and the shared whispers of sweet words between one another.

This was the start of something new.

“T-Taehyung, faster, faster please!”

The sound of the woman’s moans and the bed’s headboard banging against the connecting wall to your room made your blood boil. Your hands clenched into fists and teeth biting angrily down onto your lips.

“Be patient, my love,” you could hear your husband say through the thin wall, making the rage that flowed through your veins grow more. “Let me cherish you, beautiful...”

“Your Highness,” the sound of a man’s voice tore you out of your thoughts, “I’ve done what you’ve asked me to do.”

“Everything’s prepared and ready?”

The guard nodded his head once you turned around, “yes, your Highness. The only people remaining in the palace are your loyal followers. Everyone else has been sent home.”

“Good,” only came out of your mouth before leaving your chambers with the guard following closely behind you. You walked over next door and didn’t bother knocking before barging right in, your husband and the girl instantly jumping to cover themselves with the thin bedsheets.

“What the fuck?!” Taehyung curses loudly, staring at you with wide eyes and wrapping his arms around the girl’s waist, pulling her close. “What are you doing here? I told already you that I’m staying here tonight.”

“I know,” you replied with not even a single ounce of emotion heard in your voice.

Taehyung’s eyes then shifted towards the guard that stood beside you. “What’s going on here?”

You didn’t say anything, only smiled, and that caused fear to form in the pit of Taehyung’s gut. With just the simple nod of your head, the guard walked over to the servant girl and snatched her by her hair, tearing her away from his grasp and yanking her off the bed and onto the ground.

“Stop—” Taehyung tried to reach for her but stopped when the guard pulled out a dagger and held the sharp blade against her neck, tears shining in her eyes. He then turned towards you, eyes glistening as well, “why are you doing this?”

“Change,” was all you said before nodding your head again, giving the guard the order to slide his blade across the girl’s throat, killing her instantly and letting her limp body collapse into the ground.

“N-No no,” Taehyung didn’t hesitate this time to jump out of the bed, despite being completely nude and taking her now lifeless body into his arms, blood staining the ground and his skin, and tears spilling uncontrollably from his eyes. “She was pregnant...”

“Oh well.”

Taehyung’s head shot up from your heartless comment, his teary eyes shining with a newfound rage. Before he had the chance to say anything the guard approached him from behind and wrapped his arms tightly around his neck. He immediately began clawing at his arms, trying to gasp for air that was becoming harder and harder to obtain, eyes bright red and nearly bulging out, tears slipping from them and sliding down his cheeks.

The last thing he saw before he took his last breath and eyes slowly closed was you standing in front of him with a sinister grin on your lips.

“Your Majesty.”

Yoongi glanced up from his book to see his personal advisor standing right in front of him by his library’s entrance. He hummed in reply, signaling for the young man to continue. We’ve gotten word from Lady Kim—” Yoongi glared at him, causing his advisor to pause and correct his words, “—I mean, ____’s agents that they have completed their duties.”

“They have?” Yoongi asked with a raised brow. He knew you were more than capable of doing this, but he thought something this major would take at least a week to accomplish. He didn’t expect to hear about any success a day later.

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded. “The Jung palace is flames at this moment and there is word that Jung Hoseok himself and his wife were in their chambers when the fire happened. And as for Park Jimin, he was found murdered in his bed with a dagger in his chest. Some say it was one of his concubines that done it.”

“What about Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi found himself asking, his mind instantly thinking of you. “Was ___ successful?”

“Yes, your Majesty he was,” his advisor answered. “I was informed about Kim Taehyung’s death by ___ himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. “Good.”

“Would you like to start writing your succession speech now, your Majesty?”

“Yes,” Yoongi answered. “We’ll have the succession conference next week, and make sure every minor clan leader comes so that they know who is in charge now.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded his head, and before leaving he turned back and said to him in a teasing tone, “oh, and someone is here to see you.”

Yoongi was about to ask him who it was, but he stopped himself when his eyes suddenly landed on you standing in his library’s entrance, his heart stopping in his chest at the sight of you. “H-Hey,” he stuttered out, cringing at the sound of himself. In all his years of living, nobody has ever had this type of power over him—but he wasn’t complaining either.

“Hello, your Majesty,” your reply sent tingles all over his body—and he loved it.

There was nothing but silence afterwards between you two because there wasn’t any need for words. The only thing you two needed to express the feelings you have for each other was your eyes—the passion, the lust, the want that shined in them.

This is just the beginning for you two.

would you guys like to see a drabble series of these two in the future maybe? emperor yoongi and his male wife.

TAGLIST:

@ben-c0c, @sombreboy, @theclawofsa, @joongtoons, @xavi-in-kpopland, @ephemeralkookie, @yoshiure, @illbeyournightmare, @sonderkook, @spaceisbigger, @catboygyu, @justqueerandhereforthetea, @xxminilah​

[lilmajorshawty]

I hope this isn’t to vulgar to ask but have you experienced men of every rising sign? More so would you be able to speak on the genitalia of all the eighth house signs in men you’ve encountered? I would like to see if there is any merit in the general depictions of the eighth house when it comes to sex organs

Haha you’re fine my love! I don’t mind being of help!

I personally attract virgo, Sagittarius, Gemini, Scorpio rising men the most. I have had sexual encounters with men of all 12 zodiac signs and I’ve managed to get rising signs for a great deal of them! Sadly I can’t speak broadly on many of the rising signs considering the higher volume of the four I just mentioned being the majority of the ones that come my way.

Aries rising men: in my experience? Sweet, they are very much what you see is what you get types considering their entire chart is a reflection of the natural traits of all 12 zodiac signs in their comfortable houses. Sexually I would say their sexual organs look dark, like literally they have a darker tone then the rest of their body. They aren’t rough sexually but they can be very intense, if I could describe them? I’d say it felt like I was swimming in a pool at night with strobe lights at the bottom. They know how to have sex and it feels good, they are very much so emotionally available during and after. Very violent orgasams and can seem very spiritual during.

Taurus rising men: in my experience? Babies. They can be needy and distant at the same time, very weird mix. They want things at a very specific time and can be hard to compromise with especially sexually. the thing that stood out to me is how fast they ejaculate, and I don’t mean this in a bad way, they are just very easily aroused much like a literal bull. They tend to love foreplay but if you’re too good at it they’ll cum fast. They can be very vibrant and bubbly during sex lots of laughter, but if they’re not laughing they’re usually just super into it lmao. They have very big and long sexual organs. I wouldn’t say thick, I would say more like a long sword in typical sag style. They are very out of tune emotionally during sex so that’s the only downside.

Gemini rising men: in my experience? Sad boys. They got issues and they’re not good at hiding them. They can seem moody, aloof and slightly misunderstood. I can’t peg them sometimes, they seem like they have a mixture of mommy and daddy issues but then they can seem arrogant and self assured at a moments notice. Domination kinks and restriction plague them. I would say the sex is often sensual and deeply attentive in its nature. They want to feel all of it and none of it at the same time. Touch and physical intimacy is the thing they adore the most in sex and I think that’s what makes them so special. They’re really sweet and good natured and you get to see that part of them more freely during sex as contrary to the belief of Capricorn in the 8th these natives are tremendously affectionate and loving during sex. I will say that they get sad or more serious after climax and I have no idea wether Saturn does that or if it’s something deeper. They may be a bit on the smaller side when it comes to sexual organs in most cases but they know how to use it for sure. They are very horny like the goat

Cancer rising men: in my experience? I’ve dealt with some who have cap and others who have aqua in the 8th, for some reason the result is still similar in a way. They can be soooo receptive, they know what you need better than you do. They are present but not overbearing. They feel parental but in a way that feeds the parts of you that felt like they were missing something. I’d say sex always comes with a lesson with them. It’s never just casual sex. They tend to nurture during sex and can be very emotionally deep and connective during. They are definitely the type you spend the night with naturally or hang out with the next few days or unexpectedly end up dating. The sexual organs are usually pretty unique! Some curve, some have like those cute beauty marks on em. They also tend to be well hung.

Leo rising men: in my experience? I found them to be distant, perplexing and heavy. They seem a bit disengaged but can have moments of affectionate behavior and romantic burst that come from nowhere. Sexually though they can be passive, they feel real wet and liquidy I dunno how to describe it. Sex with them just feels very moist and like there’s a lot of fluids everywhere but idk it doesn’t feel like a bad thing. They precum a lot and can be very submissive. They are not horny per say? They are more on the “if you wanna” side of things. So Neptune and Jupiter rule Pisces so as you can already imagine these men tend to be packing some heat. They sorta dunno how to use it though? For some reason they have a very clumsy way of having sex as if they’ve never done it before? They don’t really have boundaries either so you’ll need to make sure to ask them if they’re okay cause a lot of the time they might not be.

Virgo rising men: in my experience? I’m gonna try and not be biased. These men are very ethereal. They are very quiet and genuine. They have this very honest and blunt way about doing and saying things. They carry a lot of pain though and you can see it in their eyes which I will say they have very intense eyes. Sexually? They are VERY passionate. They treat sex like a sport but not a fun sport, rather they treat it like a life or death ring match. They definitely pack a punch and will rock your shit. They can be deeply sensitive and intimate all the while being completely in tune with every part of you during sex in such a way that’ll make you feel like you’re freefalling. The genitals in my experience are veiny, very masculine in the way they look. Every time I see a guy with a Virgo rising it never ceases to amaze me how rough and aggressive their penis are. They are also very intense ejaculators and can be very big on equal ejaculation(my pleasure is your pleasure theme) contrary to the Aries myth, they can go and go and go for hours without cumming so as a warning please try and build your stamina

Libra rising men: in my experience? Confused? They can seem like they’re waiting for something to start but also won’t do anything to make something start. They can seem aggressive but are secretly hoping you make the first move. They are very touchy and very adorable in their being but they definitely can be the types to let the other person take the lead. One thing I’ve always liked about libra rising men is their cute butts and their charming way of seducing you without oversexualizing the situation. Sexually they are AMAZING Jesus. Once you get them going they will really run rampant. They are very sensual and they love slow touching and intimacy. They are emotionally present and can have a personality change during sex, they turn into a whole other Individual. A warning I will say is that they get very caught up in the moment and you’ll have to snap them out of it from time to time if they’re to caught up in the pleasure. They’re sexual organs like most fixed signs is pretty thick and heavy. In my experience the length is normal but the girth is what will really kill yah.

Scorpio rising men: in my experience? Fuck these guys are HOT. They don’t have to try very hard either which is annoying, they literally just exude this strong, mysterious and emotionally unavailable energy that makes you want to strip right in front of them. Are they into you? Do they care? Are you more into it then them? Who knows and they probably won’t tell you. They can be very manipulative and tend to gaslight(and I’m not joking about this nor am I jokingly using the term) they tend to have mental detachments from their emotions which can give them sociopath like tendecies. Sexually they are curious, very control oriented. They want to watch you go crazy so most times they leave you in charge. Riding is one of their favorite positions because they get to see you fein for them. They are senstive to your feelings during sex but don’t mistake this for them being emotionally invested in you, the Gemini in their 8th house is playing whatever role gets you to respond in the way they desire. They are very loving nonetheless when they do truly care for you. The sexual organs are usually very thick. I think they’re the ones who invented the word chode. The penis tends to be girthy and also has a pretty good length to it, and they definitely know how to work it.

Sagittarius rising men: in my experience? These guys are some fucking heartthrobs! I hate to say it but man they are so rugged and masculine you can’t help but love their boyish nature. They are definitely obnoxious, loud and ridiculously dense when it comes to reading the room. What makes them so hot though is how reckless they are with all things. They don’t give a shit. Sexually though? Emotions run HIGH they tend to be very drawn to feminine energy. A lot of guys like this adore feminity in all forms be it in men or women. If you have that feminine glow to you, they’ll eat you up. They tend to have a strong desire to impregnate and the idea of being connected and having that sort of emotional receptivity with the person their fucking drives them wild. They are very intense sexually and can be very overwhelming the first few times mainly because adjusting to them is impossible, you never know what emotional spectrum you’ll get. Their sexual organs aren’t that big, sometimes they can be girthy but most times long and or average size tends to be what I see more. Are they good at using it? Yeah, you’ll fall asleep right after trust me.

Capricorn rising men: in my experience? They are very unassuming. They are so fucking calm, so fucking unmoved and so fucking ahead of you every time. They don’t rush things and can really make you feel so comfortable with how respectful and real they are. They have a very boy next door or upstairs neighbor vibe to them. Sleeping with them feels naughty sometimes other times it feels like it was a long build up. Sexually they are exhibitionist. They definitely will fill the hell out of you with their more modest persona at first. They want to enjoy all parts of your body but they also want the show to be about them. They want to hear you want them, how good they make you feel, they want it to feel like a performance where the crowd is watching. And dare I say they are constantly mastering their art, sex gets better and better and better with them. There’s never a dull moment and every time they have sex with you it gets more personal, more intense, more all consuming. They have a high libido and they are practically insatiable. They are selfish but I will say this, if you can’t get them off they definitely will do it themselves. Their sexual organs are often brighter than the other parts of their body. Very pretty too look at and also a bit on the hairy side.

Aquarius rising men: In my experience? They can seem really standoffish and for a good reason. They tend not to like ignorance and the more they see you trying hard to relate to them the less they’ll acknowledge you. They like the idea of someone who is down for them but not the idea of someone who is groveling, don’t and I mean don’t by any means act like a fan. They tend to run hot and cold for ever even if they like you. Sexually they can be meticulously planning the whole thing. The meet up, the positions, the foreplay all of it. They tend to need warnining or to know both parties had time to clean up. They’re not ones for sex on the fly or random sex as it can lead to a lot of unnecessary accidents. They’re attentive and very much the types to make you feel like you’re clay and you’re being sculpted into something magnificent. Their amazing at sex, they are like gallileo, or Mozart when it comes to the act. They move around your body like a serpent, then a leaf in the wind, than rain touching your skin. They are more focused on your pleasure than theirs so orgasms/reaching climax can be tough for them. The sexual organs are pretty small or average in most cases. If mars/Jupiter or Neptune/Uranus is there that augments things.

Pisces rising men: In my experience? They are definitely ass men. Everything revolves around booty. They are definitely soft and very sweet, but they have a sweetness to them that is fake. The real them is far more serious and self aware then they give off. They know what they’re doing and they know what you’re doing, so don’t ever be fooled by the veil they put up. They’re incredible receptive and sensitive and a lot of their internal feelings come out at some point just not at the moment it needs to. Sexually they can very hotel sex types. Like I don’t know how to really explain it and it’s so opposite of what you would expect of libra but they are very impersonal people. Like sex can feel very romantic and as if they are treating you like a significant other but something about it is detached, far away and unavailable. They are good at creating the engagement aspect of sex but can fall short at the emotional part which is semi-strange considering what you’ll get up to that point. They are very experienced but at the same time they may need to be taught to connect a little deeper or to open up more. They have very soft and gentle sexual styles that will still make you feel cared for but sometimes in the back of it all you’ll still feel that “I’m fucking a stranger” vibe. Their sexual organs tend to be very beautiful, nice length and nice width. They’ll definitely be a lot better at the sex part once you guys are committed though.

So obviously this is a general word of mouth and does not take into account planets being in the 8th house nor does it mention decans which can greatly alter much of what I’ve said. And honestly you can apply the decan rule here if you’d like! Simply use the decan lord so if they’re a third decan Virgo rising and have Aries in the third decan in their 8th house which is Aries/Sagittarius: you would mix those interpretations. Anyways hope this helps love.

[oftenderweapons]

Sooo, about the ask thing. First off all congratulations I love you and your writing 💜 you seem like such a nice, intelligent and funny person. But was thinking what if namjoon comes home drunk and guilty about something he did and vixen comforts him. Love u💋

Title: Drunk (&) In Love

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 2.6k

Genre: crack, fluff, (also, vaguely allusive)

Rating: 18+ cause THESE TWO ARE A MESS FOR EACH OTHER

Synopsis: apparently Namjoon's stag party went a bit too wild. Mostly since he was drinking guilt away. What could that possibly be about?

Trigger warnings: swearing, consumption of alcohol, horny!drunk Joon, he clumsily tries to seduce his fianceé in front of yoonjintae (second-hand embarrassment), stressing over vows, mentions of kinky letters, they discuss future and the fear of marrying young and pretty much out of the blue and they be mentioning the idea of having kids. Also, watch Vixen being the caregiver.

Author's note: Thanking the sweetheart @ironicarmy !!! I love exchanging WIPs and Beta reading! It was so fun and I AM LOVING YOUR WIP SO HARD IM GONNA EXPLODE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! can't wait for it to be out so I can fangirl in public LOLOLOL; also thanking @dopesportsoperatorzonk for this request! (I got your feminism ask, I promise I'm almost done, I wanted to have a quite thorough view before replying and I'm still thinking about some stuff, but it'll be readdy super soon!!!)

Here's my masterlist, btw, and enjoy 💜✨

You weren't supposed to wait up for him, but it was like your sixth sense was telling you to do precisely that. And your premonition turned especially accurate once you were met with the sorry sight of Namjoon hanging off Taehyung's and Seokjin's body, grinning as he saw you appear at the door, head to toe smitten, only to turn to his friends with a sneer as he realised you were wearing his favourite silk robe. The deep crimson colour seemed to spark the colour of your hair on fire, and make the lineaments of your face sharper, older, with a kind of allure he still couldn't understand. “Little fox,” he said, going grabby hands while his arms were still around his friends' shoulders.

You tried to keep your expression stern as you looked at the two men literally holding him up. “What is this? Didn't I tell you to bring him home whole and safe?”

Taehyung lowered his gaze to the floor.

“Is this your idea of safe, Seokjin? I expected better.”

“You know him. He did this to himself.” Yoongi spoke neutrally from behind the three.

“Yoongi. Him being a fucking grizzly doesn't mean he can hold his liquor. Bring him in,” you said, freeing the entryway for the triplet coming in, Yoongi in tow.

“We should have brought him to the dorms,” he muttered.

“Dorms?!? Aneeyo…” Namjoon babbled, shaking his head, falling with his ass on the sofa. “No babylove in dorms,” he said with a hiccup. “Hello, little one,” he purred, grabbing your hips and trying to pull you towards him.

You blushed and slapped at his wrists. “I'll deal with you later—”

“Feisty brat,” he spoke sultrily, making Yoongi shake his head while Seokjin and Taehyung snickered before being chastised by your scolding stare.

“How come he's drunk off his ass and the three of you are perfectly okay?”

“He's the one getting married,” Taehyung replied, matter of factly. “And yes, he was the one who swallowed a bottle of hard liquor without even flinching.”

You glance at Namjoon with a scornful expression.

He did some very drunk, very clumsy attempt at a wink that made you inhale as you desperately looked for a crumb of patient left.

“You'd better go home, before I smack you all on the head,” you said, shooing them off.

“You'd have to reach it first,” Taehyung muttered, making Seokjin giggle, Yoongi rubbing his face at the verbal violence that was about to come.

“Kim Taehyung. I may not be tall enough for your royal head, but your girlfriend is my best friend. I won't say much more because I'm sure your friends aren't interested in your ass getting bruised.”

Yoongi smiled smugly at that one.

“Hell yeah…” Namjoon chuckled from the sofa, one hand reaching for the back of your thigh.

“No. Not now.”

“Later then?” He asked with puppy eyes before they turned into a very tipsy version of his intense dragon glance. “You’re so sexy when you’re mean,” he rumbled, a hand reaching for your thigh underneath the robe.

“Kim Namjoon, if you don’t stop I will unwife you in this instant.” Still, the other three men in the room were a mess of embarrassed coughing and teasing snorts. “You can all go home right now,” you said with a curt tone.

“You’re not gonna be able to take him to bed by yourself.” Yoongi cocked an eyebrow as he spoke calmly.

“Mh, Vixen, take me to bed, please,” Namjoon murmured as he tried to seduce you, just as you looked at him and replied, “No need to take him to bed. He’s sleeping on the sofa tonight.”

“See? I told you she found out! She has a sixth sense for this stuff! She can sense it! She can smell fear! I told you!!!” Namjoon babbled, grabbing your wrist. “Little fox...” he cooed, making a fool of himself.

“Go home. All of you. Now.”

Taehyung was the first to leave without even saying goodbye. He knew he would pay for it. Seokjin was the next, saying bye to Namjoon very briefly before bowing to you — just slightly. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, goodnight,” he apologised, making his way out.

“Yoongi?”

He rubbed his neck. “I’m sorry. Really. I— I didn’t do my job.”

You shook your head. “This is a mess I’ll have to deal with.”

“You know you’ll kind of have to deal with him for the rest of your life, right?” Yoongi looked at Namjoon, head in his hands, fingers tugging at it nervously.

You followed his gaze, meeting Namjoon in the poorest of states. “I know. He’s my business now. Go.”

Yoongi left without much resistance after that, the door of your apartment finally shutting for good.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon said, staring up at you as you stood before him. “I fucked up, I’m sorry.”

You placed your hands on his cheeks. “What happened, Joonie bear?”

He shook his head, lip going wobbly. “I’m so sorry!” he babbled again, eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“Oh, no, baby…” you managed to whisper before he dove for your lap, burying his face there. “What happened, love?”

He shook his head.

“Nothing’s gonna change the fact that I love you, big bear.” You caressed his hair as his voice confessed, half-muffled against your tummy.

“I sneaked a look at the dress.” You could hear his words coming out from a pout.

“Joonie—”

“Please don’t unwife me!” He cried out, his voice way too high pitched. “I don’t want to sleep alone ever.” He hugged your legs and held you closer. “I want to sleep next to you until I die.” He got even more emotional as he went on. “I want you to always pet my hair and tell me you’re proud of me and cook for me and be my sweetheart and my babylove and my little fox forever, even when we’re old and I get bald.”

You smiled and invited him to let go of your legs before sitting down, your legs slightly parted laying across the sofa. “Come here, big bear,” you said, patting your stomach. He did as he was told, laying his head below your chest and stretching his long body all over the seat. He struggled a little, his sense of balance temporarily worse than usual. “Soon I’ll be lawfully your bride. Forever. We’re almost there, honey. Just a week.”

He nodded.

“And then I’ll be your little fox until I’m nothing but ashes. And then some,” you reassured him, petting his lovely head, digging your fingers into the knots in his upper back.

“Writing the vows was so difficult.”

“I know baby,” you kept rubbing at his trapezoi until he released a relieved grunt. “I know that must have been really stressful for you.”

“I had to rewrite them sixteen times. Sixteen!” His hand absentmindedly reached your thigh and started rubbing small circles there. “Everytime, they were too long, or too cliché, or something I just couldn’t read in public because you know our letters.”

“I know our letters,” you confirmed, thinking about his messy handwriting on cheap paper, and entire sheets of words that he sent you everytime something important happened, everytime he had to travel for his job, everytime he just needed to make love to you on a deeper level. And then, thinking of your replies, always heartfelt, emotional, with fine calligraphy on expensive ivory sheets often marred with rough spots where a tear fell — most of the time because of joy and gratitude and obliterating, overwhelming love. “Will you read to me the other sixteen versions too, once we’re alone?”

He nodded. “I’ll read them all. I’ll write new ones every day. Small, simple, absolutely mundane. Stuff like, ‘I’ll do the dishes tonight’, or ‘Let’s go out for dinner’, or ‘I wanna grow old with you’ or ‘I don’t wanna watch that porn tonight, let’s just stare into each other’s eyes while naked and have the best tantric sex ever performed’.”

You chuckled and placed your hand atop of his. “I like the last one.”

“But I couldn’t say it in front of your parents, therefore I couldn’t write it in our vows.” He scoffed and shook his head before planting it between your breasts, nosing at the lapels of the robe until he could kiss your naked skin.

“I might have written something along those lines in one of my drafts.” Having this conversation with Namjoon while he was halfway drunk off his ass was extremely entertaining; however, you felt sad at the possibility of him not remembering this moment.

“What else did you write in that draft?” He closed his eyes, waiting for your soft voice to calm him down.

You smiled and slightly teared up at the thought, his chin propped on your chest, one of his thumbs reaching out to dry up a tear. “I wrote that I hope I get to make you smile every day and see that insanely cute and sexy dimple of yours every morning after you wake up. And I want to be the only one listening to your deep bedroom voice waking me up. And I want to listen to you as you talk to our children. I wanna hear all the stories, and watch your smile shine on their faces.”

Namjoon hid his face against your chest, feeling tears roll down his cheeks.

“I want them to have your eyes. I want to see your complete wonder as they learn about the world, as you teach them about the world in that grand and beautiful way you see it.” You sniffled and he cupped your face, kissing your lips so slowly, the heavy tang of liquor barely tainting the moment.

“I want to walk by your side, until we’re too tired to walk and watch time pass by, without worries, without haste. I don’t care where we’re walking because you were the place I was destined to be.”

Namjoon couldn’t explain tenderness or love or devotion or faith as deep as the ones he felt for you. He probably wasn’t skilled or trained enough.

“I know we’re young. I know this is more of a bet than an actual marriage. I’ve seen people who have been together for years part ways so easily and I don’t even know why you said yes to me. Sometimes I doubt I’m deserving and I see in how many ways I’m lacking and I ask myself, 'why the hell did she say yes to me?' ” He snickered sarcastically. “I wouldn’t have said yes to myself.”

You shook your head and kissed his brow.

“But I’ve been with other people and you have too and… I don’t know, sometimes I feel like this will take a lot of effort but then I hear you laugh, I hear you calling my name and I know, I can feel that that’s what it is supposed to sound like.”

You smiled at him, fixing your position so he could lay on you without worrying about smashing your body.

“I’m so confused and so grateful for this. It’s like… Suddenly winning the lottery. One minute you’re just a person and next you realise you’re going to be a husband. And you don’t know what’s going to happen to you, how your life is going to change, but with you I’m not scared.” He chuckled. “Well, I am. But you make me braver than my fears. And I know I could lose you any day. I could fuck up, or we could just drift apart or something. But any moment spent with you is bigger. It’s better and brighter.”

By now you were a teary mess, face drenched in tears, his arms around your torso as he held onto you. “My soul has found a home in you and I will cherish it. I’ll take care of that home. I’ll make sure nothing damages it. I’ll help you work on it if you want to change it. I will make more room when our family gets bigger. I will fix it when I can. I’ll stay by your side when I’m not skilled enough to heal you. To fix you.” He sniffled, voice hollow and weak as he spoke through a lump in his throat. “And I’ll leave if you ever ask me to.”

You shook your head and hugged him, letting him sob in your arms. “I hope I never lose you.”

“Don’t be a silly bear,” you comforted him, lulling him, holding him close to your heart. “I’ll be your bride. Your spouse. Your wife.” You kissed his head. “And your home. Your relief. Your dirty, secret affair. Your devoted companion too. Your goddess and your toy. I’ll be your friend. And the mother of your children, when we want to.”

God, if he wanted to… But first, he needed to enjoy having you all to himself for a couple more years. Just to make sure you hadn’t been both bold and immature and absolutely stupid about getting married almost two years after meeting for the first time.

“So I’m not getting unwifed for sneaking a peek at the dress?”

You shook your head. “It looks completely different once worn.”

“Really?” His expression exploded with euphoria.

You smiled. “Really.”

His drunken grin was back. “So I’m gonna sleep on the bed right?”

You acted as if you were even thinking about it. “You’re really drunk.”

“I’m soberer now.”

“And you embarrassed me in front of your friends,” you reminded him with a cocked eyebrow.

“Not my fault my wifey’s so hot,” he said with a slightly more accomplished wink.

“Not your wifey yet,” you reminded him.

He tutted. “Just a matter of days.” He kissed your sweet spot, on the side of your neck. “It’s only a technicality.”

You looked at him suspiciously. “A technicality, you say?”

He nodded and held you tighter.

“This technicality could still leave you at the altar, waiting,” you teased.

“Come on, I want to sleep next to you.” He kissed your cheek. “On our bed.” He kissed you again. “Where we’ll be making so many babies.”

“Stop right there, mister.” You placed a finger against his plush lips before you shook your head no. “No babies for a few years. I want you all mine, hubby.”

He chuckled and pressed his forehead against your chest bone. “Okay, fine, but I just meant hypothetically. You know, for practice.”

“Yeah, I think I could use some practice. I want to be perfect at it.”

He smiled and kissed your nose. If only she knew how perfect she is, he thought, haphazardly sitting up and waiting for you to help him on his feet, the whole discourse sobering him up enough that he managed to sit on the bench in the bathroom as you washed his face and brushed his teeth, as you undressed him and helped him in the shower, undressing and joining him, his body too tired and unstable to initiate anything fancy.

And then you towelled him up, rubbing body lotion on his always-too-dry legs before helping him in his boxers.

And through the process, he understood how it was that you loved him so much anytime he got you ready for bed. He should let you do this more often. Especially when he wasn’t exhausted or drunk, so he could properly enjoy being cuddled and fondled and babied.

What he didn’t expect was for it to feel so comfortable when you slid up against his back on the bed, spooning his ridiculously large body with your smaller one. “Sleep tight, big bear,” you said before kissing his nape. “Eight more sleeps and we’ll be married.”

He smiled. “Goodnight, little fox.” And with that, he caught your hand in his and fell asleep.

[athenawasamerf]

Feminism in Egypt, Part 2

FGM

FGM has a long, bloody history with African and Arab women. Some people say it originated in Ancient Egypt; others lean more towards it being a Bedouin Arab tradition. I’m not here to discuss the origin story of one of the most horrific human rights infarctions on earth. I’m here to talk about the current feminist struggle against it.

FGM was outlawed in Egypt in June of 2008, and a 2014 survey showed that a whopping 92% of married women and girls between 15 and 49 years old have been subjected to FGM (I will talk more about the inclusion of 15 year olds in official surveys of married women in a post about child brides), and that 72% of these crimes were carried out by doctors. In 2008, a DHS survey of women and girls in the same age range showed that 63% of them were in support of FGM as a practice. Of those 63%, 60% cited husband preference for ‘cleaned’ girls, and 39% cited religious reasons. All of these are easily googleable facts, but these things always sound so clinical when they’re presented like this. Cold, sterile, detached. So, let’s get a little deeper into it, shall we?

Girls in Egypt are mutilated anywhere between birth and marriage, but mostly before the age of 15. These are children. Every single year, we have cases of babies, toddlers, children, young women dying from botched mutilations and infections, especially after the 2016 criminalisation of FGM practitioners. Parents will take their daughters to backwater clinics, or have ‘doula’s who have no medical experience of any kind visit them at home, and cut into the flesh of their young daughters with non-sterile equipment, often without anaesthesia.

I’ve heard and read first-hand accounts of girls who got topical anaesthesia that wore out halfway through. I’ve heard and read first-hand accounts of girls who were dragged, kicking and screaming, and held down by family and neighbours forcefully as their bodies were torn into. Of girls who bled for days, of girls who had to have their legs bound to each other for weeks, of girls who couldn’t stop screaming in pain every time they went to the bathroom, to complete apathy and even disgust and anger from their families, of girls who were snarled at for making noise while their bodies were being torn away on their own beds, of girls who still have constant pain over a decade later, of girls who hate themselves and hate their vulvas, and hate their lives. Of girls who are suicidal, of girls who are terrified of marriage, who have trust issues, who can’t handle the thought of anyone touching them there again, after the first time being so traumatic and painful and horrifying. All of this is done while the family, and even friends and neighbours, celebrate in joy. It’s even tradition in some rural areas to take all the female children of the family to get ‘fixed’ together, dressed in pretty dresses and fancy shoes.

I’ve also heard of women who are asexual due to trauma, whose husbands rape them continuously, who are abused for refusing sex, whose families disown them for being such a disgrace, whose husbands divorce them and leave them for dead, whose husbands marry multiple women besides them, and they are left to fend for themselves, unable to get a divorce and move on, and completely abandoned by the people they trusted the most. They’re told the angels will curse them all night for refusing sex, but what about their trauma? What about their feelings? What about them, as people? Nobody cares.

So, how did we get here? There are 3 main reasons.

The ’’religious’’ folk will cite a (weak) hadith as their proof that FGM is a good, healthy practice. It goes that the prophet saw a woman going to get her daughter cut, and he told her to ‘not cut severely, as that is better for the woman and more preferable to the husband’. Apart from any implications of misogyny in this hadith, it has been disputed multiple times, along with a couple others in support of FGM. You can read more about that here.

Regardless of the truth of FGM having Islamic support, the reality of the matter is that a huge amount of actual, real life Muslim people cite these hadiths as their reasoning to mutilate their daughters, and everyone sees that as completely justified. The truth of the matter is this: Someone put these hadiths into the public conscience knowing full well they will be used to abuse, maim, hurt, kill women for centuries. Whether that someone was prophet Muhammed himself or later scholars, no one can actually ever know.

The second, more indirectly religious and directly misogynistic reason, is to ensure ‘purity’. You see, as I’ve talked about before and as many of you already know, women in Islam and in MENA in general are seen and treated as property. The family’s honour lies between a woman’s thighs. A young girl who speaks to boys her age in the most innocent context possible can be subjected to house arrest, beatings, forced stopping of her education, even death, for daring to put the family’s honour in jeopardy. A girl who has a boyfriend, well...

In a society that places so much value not only on women’s virginity, but also on their complete removal and separation from the male sex at any cost, it’s not very surprising that tips and tricks like using FGM to ‘cull a woman’s sexual desire’ spread like wildfire. Girls are mutilated to make sure they don’t become wh**es. This is said frankly, openly, it’s common knowledge. If you refuse to hurt your child in this way, you will be met with disdain and disgust, and even wails of despair, with shock, with animosity. “Do you want her to become like a prostitute and ruin your family name? Do you want her to walk around uncontrolled? Don’t you know what shame she will bring on you?” These statements are directed at girls as young as... in the womb, if you show your dissent early enough.

And the final reason is the least of them to hide under religious pretences, and the most misogynistic: Because this is how men prefer their wives to be.

You might think when I say preference here, I mean it in the way I mean, “Oh, I personally prefer brunette hair,” but you would be sorely mistaken. By prefer here, I mean demand. I mean a man could force his grown wife, through physical force or through abuse, to mutilate her body for his satisfaction. I mean that men will sneer at un-mutilated women. I mean that men will beat their wives on their wedding night to within an inch of her life for ‘cheating’ them if the wives are not mutilated. I mean men will suspect their wives of adultery and murder them, which carries a reduced sentence of ‘time served during investigation’, just for the simple act of having intact genitals. I mean men will divorce their wives on their wedding night for being unharmed, for being whole. I mean men will act so entitled to women’s bodies that they will always have the assumption that the ‘product’ they are ‘buying’ is cut to taste, and they will become violent and aggressive and murderous if they find out this is not the case.

I personally don’t know whether or not I’ve been mutilated. With such high numbers in Egypt, the likely answer is yes, but I genuinely have no clue. I am not allowed to ask about these things, or I’ll be seen as a loose wh**re. My parents would beat me up and they still wouldn’t allow me the dignity of knowing whether my own body has been altered against my will. I don’t know if I’ll ever find out.

The feminists fighting constantly for tighter regulations, for harsher punishments, for longer sentences; these women are seen as the spawn of the devil. Accusations of loose morals are thrown their way day in and day out. Death threats and rape threats (’that’s what you want anyway isn’t it?’) are hurled at them from every direction. They are silenced. They are ridiculed. But they are prevailing. This year, the Egyptian president has decided to alter the FGM laws to cover loopholes, and possibly to increase enforcement. He has also altered the charge set to doctors who perform FGM which results in death from manslaughter to first or second degree murder.

The problem, however, remains in lack of reporting. Ever since the criminalisation of performing FGM in 2008, and the setting of punishments in 2016 as a minimum of three months’ jail time, to a maximum of 2 years, or a minimum of 1000EGP to a maximum of 5000EGP fines (63.71 to 318.53 USD), and until 2018, and possibly until today, not a single mutilator had been convicted.

Imagine being fined as little as 60 dollars for the permanent mutilation of a little girl’s body. And even that is not happening.

People refuse to report the monsters who do perform this, despite a 2012 gynaecology convention condemning the practice, and calling it an inhumane act, and stating quite forcefully that it is not a medical procedure, and that it is an infringement on the human rights of women and girls, which medicine and medical ethics do not condone. And yet, the public opinion remains the same: this is their business, it is not our place to intervene. It is not our place to get this fine young man thrown in jail, or fined, for performing a ‘cleaning’ procedure, and besides, wouldn’t you rather they had a medical professional perform it, rather than an uneducated woman, or a barber, or a butcher? It is not our place to report this family and tear them apart -  what did they ever do to us that we may hurt them like this?

No one ever asks what little girls have ever done for us to fail them like this.

[woman-loving]

I’ve been reading some articles about lesbian identities in Indonesia, from the late 80s to the 00s, and wanted to share some quotes that highlighted a couple trends that I’ve also noticed in reading about butch/femme communities in other countries.

1) There are different expectations about sexual distinctiveness and marriage to men are attached to butch and femme identities. There is a greater expectation that femmes will marry men, and femmes more often do marry men, though some butches do as well. Marriages to men seem to be for convenience or in name only, and women may continue to have female lovers.

2) Distinctions are made between real/pure/positive lesbians (butches) and other lesbians (femmes) who are “potentially normal.” This shows the flexibility of lesbian identity, where they can be gradations and contradictions in what it means to be a lesbian (e.g. a woman being a lesbian but not a “real lesbian"). The category has cores and peripheries, rather than everyone being equally lesbian or else completely outside of it.

3) There are disagreements between members, which cross butch/femme lines, about the meanings of these identities and whose lesbianism or community involvement should be taken seriously. The first passage describes femmes as engaging in a “more active appropriation of lesbianism as a core element of their subjectivity.” The boundaries of lesbianism can potentially expand or contract as people struggle to define it.

4) People don’t always meet the community expectations attached to their identity.

I think these passages help complicate the picture of what lesbian identities can look like, and some of these same tensions and debates are common features of lesbian identity in many different cultures. I also think these issues--the (differential) weight given to relationships with men, the notion of positive versus negative lesbians, and the active appropriation of lesbianism by peripheral members--are relevant to bisexual interest, since these questions also shape bi women’s engagement in lesbianism/lesbian communities. (And we can say that without claiming that any particular women in these narratives are “really bisexual.”)

Anyway, without further ado... (this first one picks up right in the middle of a passage because I couldn’t get the previous page on the google preview :T)

From “Desiring Bodies or Defiant Cultures: Butch-Femme Lesbians in Jakarta and Lima,” by Saskia E. Wieringa, in Female Desires: Same-Sex Relations and Transgender Practices Across Cultures, eds. Evelyn Blackwood and Saskia E. Wieringa, 1999:

“[...]negative lesbians. We are positive lesbians. We are pure, 100% lesbian. With them you can never know. Before you know it, they are seeing a man again, and we are given the good-bye.”

Father Abraham, who had entered during her last words, took over. “Let me explain. … Take Koes. Again and again her girlfriends leave her. Soon she’ll be old and lonely. Who will help her then? For these girls it is just an adventure, while for butches like Koes it is their whole life.”“Yes, well, Abraham, … my experience is limited, of course, but it seems to me that the femmes flee the same problems that make life so hard for the butches. So they’d rather support each other.”

“In any case,” Sigit added, ‘they have become active now, that’s why they’re here, isn’t that so?” And she looked questioningly at the three dolls behind the typing machine, Roekmi and my neighbour. The most brazen femme had been nodding in a mocking manner while Sigit and I were talking.

“So we’re only supposed to be wives? We’re not suited for something serious, are we? Maybe we should set up a wives’ organization, Dharma Wanita,[23] the Dharma Wanita PERLESIN? Just like all those other organizations of the wives of civil servants and lawyers?” …

“Come on, Ari,” Sigit insisted, “why don’t you just ask them? You could at least ask them whether they want to join?” Ari found it extremely hard. Helplessly she looked at the other butches.

“Do you really mean that i should ask whether our wives would like to join / our / organization?” One of the butches nodded.

“Ok, fine.” She directed herself to the dolls.

“Well, what do you want? Do you want to join us? But in that case you shouldn’t just say yes, then you should also be involved with your whole heart.”

“You never asked that of the others,” the brazen femme pointed out, “but yes, I will definitely dedicate myself to the organization.” Roekmi and the two femmes at her side also nodded. (Wieringa 1987:89-91)

The above example is indicative of the social marginalization of the b/f community. it also captures in it one of its moments of transformation. The defiance of the femmes of the code that prescribes the division of butches and femmes into “positive” and “negative” lesbians respectively indicates a more active appropriation of lesbianism as a core element of their subjectivity. At the same time it illustrates the hegemony of the dominant heterosexual culture with its gendered principles of organization.

Yet, however much the butches conformed to male gender behavior they didn’t define themselves as male; their relation to their bodies was rather ambiguous. at times they defined themselves as a third sex, which is nonfemale[…]. [...] [Butches’] call for organization was not linked to a feminist protest against rigid gender norms. Rather they felt that nature had played a trick on them and they they had to devise ways to confront the dangers to which this situation gave rise. Jakarta’s b/f lesbians when I met them in the early eighties were not in the least interested in feminism. In fact, the butches among them were more concerned with the case of a friend of them who was undergoing a sex change operation. They clearly considered it an option, but none of them decided to follow this example. When I asked them why, all of them mentioned the health risks involved and the costs. None of them stated that they rather preferred their own bodies. Their bodies, although the source of sexual pleasure and as such the object of constant attention, didn’t make it any too easy for them to get the satisfaction they sought or, at least, to attract the partners they desired.

From "Let Them Take Ecstasy: Class and Jakarta Lesbians," by Alison J. Murray, in Female Desires: Same-Sex Relations and Transgender Practices Across Cultures, eds. Evelyn Blackwood and Saskia E. Wieringa, 1999:

Covert lesbian activities are thus an adaptation to the ideological context, where the distinction between hidden and exposed sexual behavior allows for fluidity in sexual relations (“everyone could be said to be bisexual” according to Oetomo 1995) as long as the primary presentation is heterosexual/monogamous. It is not lesbian activity that has been imported from the West, but the word lesbi used to label the Western concept of individual identity based on a fixed sexuality. I have not found that Indonesian women like to use the label to describe themselves, since it is connected to unpleasant stereotypes and the pathological view of deviance derived from Freudian psychology (cf Foucault 1978).

The concept of butch-femme also has a different meaning in Indonesia from the current Western use which implies a subversion of norms and playful use of roles and styles (cf Nestle 1992). In Indonesia (and other parts of Southeast Asia, such as the Philippines, Thailand’s tom-and-dee: Chetame 1995) the roles are quite strictly, or restrictively, defined and are related to popular, pseudo-psychological explanations of the “real” lesbian. In the simple terms of popular magazines, the butch (sentul) is more than 50% lesbian, or incurably lesbi, while the femme (kantil) is less than 50% lesbian, or potentially normal. Blackwood’s (1994) description of her secretive relationship with a butch-identified woman in Sumatra brings up some cross-cultural differences and difficulties that they experienced and could not speak about publicly. The Sumatran woman adopted masculine signifies and would not be touched sexually herself; she wanted to be called “pa” by Blackwood, who she expected to behave as a “good wife.” Meanwhile, Blackwood’s own beliefs, as well as her higher status due to class and ethnicity, made it hard to take on the passive female role.

I want to emphasize here that behavior needs to be conceptually separated from identity, as both are contextually specific and constrained by opportunity. It is common for young women socialized into a rigid heterosexual regime, in Asia or the West, to experience their sexual feelings in terms of gender confusion: “If I am attracted to women, then I must be a man trapped in a woman’s body.” Women are not socialized to seek out a sexual partner (of any kind), or to be sexual at all, so an internal “feeling” may never be expressed unless there are role models or opportunities available. If the butch-femme stereotype, as presented in the Indonesian popular media, is the only image of lesbians available outside the metropolis (e.g., in Sumatra), then this may affect how women express their feelings. However, urban lower-class lesbians engage in a range of styles and practices: some use butch style consciously to earn peer respect, while others reject the butch as out-dated. The stereotype of all lower-class lesbians whether following butch-femme roles or conforming to one subcultural pattern is far from the case and reflects the media and elite’s lack of real knowledge about street life. […]

The imagery of sickness creates powerful stigmatization and internalized homophobia: women may refer to themselves as sakit (sick). An ex-lover of mine in Jakarta is quite happy to state a preference for women while at the same time expressing disgust at the word lesbi and at the sight of a butch dyke; however, I have generally found that the stigma around lesbian labels and symbols is not translated into discrimination against individuals based on their sexual activities. I have been surprised to discover how many women in Jakarta will either admit to having sex with women or to being interested in it, but again, this is only rarely accompanied by an open lesbian (or bisexual) identity. I have found it hard to avoid the word “lesbian” to refer to female-to-female sexual relations, but it should not be taken to imply a permanent self-identity. It is very important to try and understand the social contexts of behavior, in order to avoid drawing conclusions based on inappropriate Western notions of lesbian identity, community, or “queer” culture.

From “Beyond the ‘Closet’: The Voices of Lesbian Women in Yogyakarta,” by Tracy L Wright Webster, 2004:

Most importantly a supportive community group of lesbian, bisexual and transgender women is essential, given that these sexualities are thrust together in Sektor 15. Potentially, a group comprised of women from each of these categories, that is lesbian, bisexual or transgender, may prove problematic to say the least, given that the needs and issues of each group are different. Clearly the informal communities already in existence in Yogya are indicators of this. Any formal or organized groupings would certainly benefit by modeling on current, though informal organisations. In the lesbian network, transgendered women (those who wish to become men or who consider themselves male) are not affiliated, however many ‘femme’ identified women who have been and intend to be involved in heterosexual relationships in the future, are among the group in partnership with their ‘butch’ pacar (Indo: girlfriend/boyfiend/lover).

Organisations of women questioning sexuality have existed in Yogya in the past. A butch identified respondent said she was involved in the formation of a lesbian, bisexual and transgender network in collaboration with another Indonesian woman, who also identified as butch, 20 years her senior. The group was called Opo (Javanese:what) or Opo We (Jav:whatever), the name highlighting that any issue could be discussed or entered into within the group. Members were an amalgam of both of the women’s friends and acquaintances. The underlying philosophy of the group was that “regardless of a woman’s life experience, marriage, children…it is her basic human right to live as a lesbian if she has the sexual inclination”. The elder founding member of this group, now 46, married a man and had a child. She now lives with her husband (in name only), child and female partner in the same home. Although this arrangement according to the interviewee “is rare… because the husband is there, she is spared the questions from the neighbours”. Here I must add that it is common in Java for lesbians to marry to fulfill their social role as mothers, and then to separate from their husbands to live their lives in partnership with a woman. This trend however is more common among the ‘femme’ group.

From "(Re)articulations: gender and same-sex subjectivities in Yogyakarta, Indonesia," by Tracy Wright Webster, in Intersections: Gender and Sexuality in Asia and the Pacific, Issue 18, Oct 2008:

Lesbi subjectivities Since gender, for the most part, determines sexuality in Java, sexuality and gender cannot be analysed as discrete categories.[64] For all of the self-identified butchi participants, lesbi was the term used to describe their sexuality. This is contrary to the findings of two key researchers of female same-sex sexuality in Indonesia. Alison Murray's research in Jakarta in the 1980s suggests that females of same-sex attraction did not like the term 'lesbian'[65] due to its connection with 'unpleasant stereotypes' and deviant pathologies.[66] In 1995, Gayatri found that media representations depicting lesbi as males trapped in female bodies encouraged same-sex attracted women to seek new, contemporary descriptors.[67] The participants in this research, however, embraced the term lesbi as an all-encompassing descriptor of female same-sex attraction and as Boellstorff has noted in 2000, Indonesian lesbi tend to see themselves as part of a wider international lesbian network.[68]

The term lesbi has been used in Indonesia since the 1980s, although not commonly or consistently. Lines, les, lesbian, lesbo, lesbong and L, among others, are also used. Female same-sex/lesbi subjectivities in Yogya are not strongly associated with political motivations and the subversion of heteropatriarchy as they were among the Western lesbian feminists of the 1960s. By the time most of the participants in this research were born, the term lesbi had already become infused in Indonesian discourses of sexuality among the urban elite (though with negative connotations in most cases), and has since become commonly used both by females of same-sex attraction to describe themselves, and by others. Most learnt from peers at school and through reading Indonesian magazines.

However, public use of the term lesbi and expression of lesbi subjectivity has its risks. Murray's research on middle to upper class lesbians suggests that females identifying as lesbi have more to lose than lower class lesbi in terms of social position and the power invested in that class positioning. This is particularly in relation to their position in the family.[69] Conversely, her work also shows that lower class lesbi 'have the freedom to play without closing off their options.'[70] As Aji suggests, young females, particularly of the priyayi class may not be in a position to resist the social stigma attached to lesbianism and the possible consequences of rejection or abuse. Yusi faced this reality despite the fact that s/he had not declared herself lesbi. Hir gendered subjectivity meant that s/he did not conform to stereotypical feminine ideals and desires.

With so much at stake, many lesbi remain invisible. Heteronormative and feminine gendered expectations for females in part explain why lesbians may indeed be the 'least known population group in Indonesia.'[71] Collusion in invisibility can be seen here as a protective strategy. The lesbi community or keluarga (family) is what Murray refers to as a 'strategic community' of the lesbian subculture.[72] The strategic nature of the community lies in its sense of protection: the community provides a safe haven for disclosure. Invisibility, however, also arises through the factors I mentioned earlier: the normative feminine representations of femme, their tendency to express lesbi subjectivity only while in partnership with a butchi, and their tendency to marry. Invisibility, as a form of discretion, however, may also be chosen.

Gender complementary butchi/femme subjectivities [...] Due to the apparently fixed nature of butchi identities and subjectivities and their reluctance to sleep with males, they are seen as 'true lesbians,'[79] lesbian sejati, an image perpetuated through the media.[80] Similar to the butchi/femme communities in Jakarta, in Yogya, butchi are identified by their strict codes of dress and behaviour which include short hair, sometimes slicked back with gel, collared button up shirts and trousers bought in menswear stores, large-faced watches and bold rings. Butchi characteristically walk with a swagger and smoke in public places. In her research in the 1980s, Wieringa noticed that within lesbi communities in Jakarta the strict 'surveillance and socialisation 'may have contributed to the fixed nature of butchi identities.[81] In Yogya, this is particularly evident in the socialisation of younger lesbi by senior lesbi (a theme I explore elsewhere in my current research).

The participants held individual perspectives on butchness. Aji's butchness is premised on hir masculine gender subjectivity and desire for a partner of complementary gender. Yusi expresses hir butchness differently and relates it to dominance in the relationship and in sex play. The participants who told of the sexual roles within the relationship emphasised their active butchi roles during sex. As Wieringa suggests, this does not necessarily imply femme passivity as femme 'stress their erotic power over their butches.'[82] It does, however, indicate one way in which the butchi I interviewed articulate their sexual agency.

Femme subjectivities, on the other hand, are generally conceived of as transient. As many of the interviews illustrate, femme are expected by their butchi partners to marry and have children: butchi see them as bisexual. In public, and indeed if they marry, they are seen as heterosexual, though their heterosexual practice may not be exclusive. In the 1980s, Wieringa observed that femme 'dressed in an exaggerated fashion, in dresses with ribbons and frills...always wore make up and high heels.'[83] In the new millennium, the femme I met were also fashion savvy though not in an exaggerated sense. Generally they wore hip-hugging, breast-accentuating tight gear, had long hair and wore lipstick and low-heeled pumps. Their feminine representations were stereotypical: it was through association with butchi with in the lesbi community that femme subjectivities become visible.

[politicallyinvolvedpandabear]

Intro

Welcome to my blog. This is a place for me to reblog my favorite posts, engage with people, and offer some of my own opinions. In the past I had certain thoughts about certain posts (especially some of the ones I loved, which I have bookmarked) but I didn’t have the time to respond or it wouldn’t look good for me to start reblogging from tHe hOrrIbLe eVIL TERVES. This place is a safe space for me to interact with that content, and I won’t out anyone who interacts with me. I don’t have any stalkers so I don’t think anyone I know will find me, but in the event that you do, please mind your own business or pretend you didn’t see this, lol. (Not that I’m doing anything bad at all by having opinions.) I’m refraining from putting too much identifiable content but anyway. I love women and always will. 

Details on my stances below the cut:

Name: Panda bear (I picked this name ‘cuz I think pandas are cute)

Sex: Female 

Sexuality: Lesbian (female homosexual, aka woman who loves and is attracted to other women EXCLUSIVELY)

Point one: I don’t think you have to be a lesbian to support other women or want them to be happy. I think there are actually very few lesbians in the world, which is fine (I can’t control anyone else’s sexuality and wouldn’t want anyone to control mine). Lesbians are not attracted to men and are the only sexuality that fully excludes them. This gives me an edge whenever I heavily criticize men (I can choose to cut them out of my life pretty easily), but I don’t think lesbians are superior to other women or anything. Lesbians are just female homosexuals; we exist like that. As such, I don’t believe in political lesbians

Point two: When I introduce myself to people, I almost never ever bring up my sexuality, but I do it here because just like being female means you have certain experiences and understand certain things, so does being a lesbian. I like other lesbians and love hearing from them. I’m definitely not the spokesperson for all lesbians at all, but I think I’d like to use my own voice (with my own unique experiences) and speak up about them. Me laying this out means you know where I’m coming from, as someone who has no attraction to men. 

Point three: No bi lesbian nonsense. I support lesbians and I support bi people. I don’t support two identities being haphazardly smashed together to validate an attraction to men (or ”non-men”). Women are already expected to be attracted to men and I fought that heteronormativity and I won. Don’t undo other people’s work by undermining what it means to be a lesbian (by attaching qualifiers to it) and going Frankenstein’s monster on it. You either are the label or not: you don’t just identify as something to actually become it. 

Point four: My sexuality is slightly more complicated than the typical lesbian (not in terms of emotional depth/connection but in terms of my actual attraction and when it manifests itself). Since this isn’t a dating site, I won’t go into this unless asked. Know that I sympathize with the A in LGTQIA though, even though my primary alignment is with LGB. (Please don’t call me queer.) 

Age: in my early 20s 

Political stances:

Pro-female. I am for radical feminism, women’s rights, female separatism, and so on. Women and girls are my top priority not only because I love them and am one, but because I genuinely want them to have a happy life, especially because most of them didn’t do anything wrong. “Leave no woman behind” is a good motto to me though. If it hurts women, it has to go

You’re probably wondering if I’m a “terf”. No, I am not. I am cis: I’ve never experienced dysphoria (embarrassment/discomfort/slight shame about my body, yes, but every woman experiences that), but I don’t think being trans is exactly bad. I’ve always thought that if you’re not hurting anyone, then who you are/how you choose to present is no one else’s business. This, however, disqualifies all the creeps who are BULLDOZING women’s rights (their language, ability to have female only spaces, and ability to speak about their own experiences among others who understand without outsiders or judgment/cries about exclusivity). Don’t even talk to me about the cotton ceiling and all the weird conversion therapy/shaming rhetoric. I’ll say this now so I don’t get asked: I do not like dick and I never will. Please do not try to force or guilt/shame me into doing anything I don’t like: that’s rape culture and that’s incredibly creepy, horrible, and evil. Do I believe trans women are women? Not really, that’s why they’re “trans”. That’s the point I think: that’s why you transitioned. I don’t have to be attracted to you or like you to want you to be respected/have a good life, so if you treat me with respect, I’ll do the same to you. Not being able to define “woman” is bad though, and I’m definitely not really interested in people who identify out of womanhood. Lack of interest doesn’t mean hate. I think gender non-conforming women are awesome and they can be however or whatever they want without needing to deny their own sex. Since I don’t understand dysphoria or trans people, though, I won’t throw anyone well-meaning under the bus. So that’s my stance on that. From what I’ve been seeing, I don’t know if there are any well-meaning trans people left who aren’t just caricaturing womanhood (or manhood?), but if you can prove me wrong, I won’t be upset about it. 

My thoughts on men are I hate them. As a class, yes, but also all of them as people because you won’t see any humanity there. Maybe there are “good men” and “not all men” are raging misogynists, but that’s the bare minimum, and the patriarchy allows any average man to hurt any woman, quite often without consequences. Men have oppressed women for thousands of years and I won’t forgive them. Yes, the average guy isn’t responsible for what happened to women then and even now, but the oppressed are allowed to hate our oppressors, and women are already taught to be careful around any man because if he turns out to be bad, it was “her fault.” If you’re a man, therefore, that’s a red flag for me. The onus is on you to prove you’re not an asshole and I’ll interact with you civilly. But my biggest priority is women. You’ll have to accept a lot of things if you want to be welcomed here and radical feminism is about women, so don’t step out of your place. I’m completely serious: men have been doing this to women for a long time, so I’m not going to cheer for you or waste my energy on you at all. If I do, it’s for another human being who seems to be decent. I used to want everyone to be happy until I realized how truly evil the other sex is. 

My bullet points turned into paragraphs, but that’s all, I think! If anything else comes up, feel free to ask me. I’m always open to learning more (that’s why I made this blog: to interact with people instead of keeping everything to myself) and I believe in fairness/justice a lot, so if anything I say or do doesn’t seem just or fair, let me know. If you think me being anti-male/a misandrist is bad, though, then just look at the other side and you’ll see why, lmao. As someone who loves women, how can I not hate those who hurt them, especially the way men do? 

TLDR;

for: abortion, female rights, female autonomy, kindness, fairness, anti-discrimination, gay rights (obviously), higher wages for people, the rich to stop screwing poor people over by giving up their riches, social justice 

against: racism, misogyny, the patriarchy, anything male (male language like “guys”, the male body, hearing their male opinions on female issues), rape or rape culture, conversion therapy, cringe culture, cancel culture, anything that hurts women 

The way this works is I’ll probably be writing a lot in the tags (sometimes in posts), and if I receive any asks (not death threats hopefully), I’ll answer them. I’m quite new to this and I’m still young, so I’m mostly here to learn, but if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know and I’ll happily do it (if I can). Perhaps I’ll write about my personal experiences and thoughts (especially on being a lesbian because that’s the most important thing to me). I like hearing other people’s stories and thoughts too. 

Since this is a sideblog, I can’t really follow you back (easily), but I think you’ll be able to tell it’s me (maybe), and I do take notice if you follow me if I agree with you/think you’re cool. 

Not sure if anyone actually read all of this, but thanks for stopping by! Hope you have a lovely day. ^^ 

[djemsostylist]

Of Queens and Trash

Here’s the thing. SCK has been on a downward trend since 13. The breakup was long, getting together again was tiring, the amnesia plot was poorly handled and the mess that came following his recovery was, well, a mess. The necessary break for covid gave us a chance for a fresh start for Edser. All the bad stuff in the past, and a focus in the last episodes of them being able to finally fulfill all the promises they had not been able to. After all, this was a story that, at its core, was about two people who met and fell in love and who, no matter what, chose to be together. Invisible handcuffs. And with the return of the OG writer, it seemed we might finally get that. After 39 episodes of angst and only 7(?) of real togetherness, surely it was time? Forget the pain of the past, and start with Edser navigating their world together.

And then the trailer dropped. And all of a sudden, all the people who had spent months eviscerating Serkan for behaving badly in the 30s were celebrating this new plot, the “great angst” and Eda “being a Queen.”

For me, I can’t get over the hiding of the child. It's a hardline deal breaker. I don’t think it matters who writes it, I think it's an awful plotline. No matter how "good" the trailer looks or moments seem, I will remember that I was watching a show about two people who loved each other and never wanted to be apart, about a man who learned how to open his heart, and this ruined it all.

Now, I think it's worth noting that my hard line, in this particular case, is in response to Edser, if that makes sense. I’m not hardline, “if this is in a story I’m not watching”. If it works for the characters and story because that is the type of story being told, then fine.

I don't subscribe to the woke feminism brand of "all women are Queens and all men are Trash" which seems to be a trend of late (and not just in fandom). I think people are people and people are generally imperfect but also trying. I don’t think women, simply by virtue of carrying a child, get full say in what happens to the child, regardless of the father’s wishes. I'm not fond of a “hiding a kid storyline”, and while I get the whole "my body my choice" style of arguing, it took two people to make the baby. Two people get a say in what happens. I get you are growing the kid, but you didn't spontaneously conceive.

For me, Edser being apart and/or hiding a kid is a hardline. It doesn't fit with the characters as I know them and it doesn't fit with the storyline. And look--I hated the amnesia plot. I thought there were a literal million ways this could have been done better, but it's what we got. So for everyone suddenly defending this new plot, despite it making about as much sense as Eda getting married to make Serkan remember her, then that means everything goes. No blaming writers or ignoring canon...everything has context and meaning now. And since “it's realistic” is also a common refrain, then fine. Let’s go realistic.

Imagine being in a plane crash. You wake up, you have clear physical/mental blocks. For someone who likes to be in control, that's terrifying. You have a ring on your finger with a woman's name you don't know, and an entire year missing. You call the one person you know will come (since your parents and friends are useless) and she comes and tells you a story that jives. You can't remember shit and you keep getting flashes and your hands won't work, so you take what she tells you, because why would you have any reason to doubt? It’s not like you can remember anyway, and trying to remember hurts.

You finally go back home, and you recognize nothing about your own life. Friends, family...everything is different. Your mom is out, your dad is gone, your best friends are married. You don't even live in the same house, you have people working in your company you don’t know--even your dog is gone. And then you have a hysterical woman throwing pictures in your face of a man you don't recognize and your brain is still foggy and all your friends and family seem to be shrugging their shoulders at you.

You're terrified and alone and all you get is some vagueness about an epic love story and too much emotion and all you want to do is hide. From everything. Plus your heart is doing this thing every time the girl is near and you think you might be dying maybe and remember how your brother died?

So, the girl kisses you, you literally feel like you might be dying, and it's like naw. Fuck this. I'm getting back an ounce of control. So you propose to Selin. I mean you don’t love her and you barely want her but at least she is the same. At least she hasn’t changed, and at least she doesn’t stare at you with the weight of a million expectations that everyone else does. At least she doesn’t look at you and hope to see a man you can’t ever remember being.

But then the girl everyone claims is your soulmate is suddenly engaged to another man, and spends every moment after that claiming she hates you, she is over you, she is better off/happier without you, doesn't need you.

So it's like, okay, what is the truth. Your brain isn't helping, your friends aren't helping, she isn't helping. So you lash out, you close off, because really, what else is left. Your life isn’t your life, your mind isn’t your mind, you can’t even figure out what’s real and what isn’t. And she’s getting married and you want to die but she’s getting married and surely if she loved you she wouldn’t be doing this?

And then you get your memories back. Finally. Everything comes flooding back ,and it's a lot. You cope in shitty ways, you don't respond well, etc. You’ve returned from the dead twice, and everything feels just slightly off, but maybe you can make this work. At least you have her. After a few days, you’re feeling like your old self. You've got your memories, your girl, the possibility of the future you had snatched twice, and then BOOM. She rejects you, out of nowhere.

Won't talk, won't communicate, you have no idea what the fuck is happening. She’s crying and sad but also not leaving but also not staying and your brain can’t quite work things out but all you can do is promise that you love her, only her, always her, forever. Surely she must know that by now, right?

And then she tells you about the baby. You can't remember the sex of course, but then you find out it probably happened while your brain was fucked, and you barely have time to process this before oh yeah the love of your life is leaving you bc she would rather you raise a baby with your rapist. And suddenly you might be dying, again.

But you stop her. You stop her and even though she says she didn’t come back for you, why else would she have stayed? So, you finally get her back, she tattoos you on her finger and maybe just maybe everything will be fine when BOOM. Cancer. You aren't even over the other shit, and you have a fucking tumor. You are 30 years old, you've survived a plane crash, amnesia, and now you have a tumor. How many times can a person die?

And so you don’t cope well. You withdraw, you back away. Your brother died when he was young, you know what that does to a person. You know what it did to your family. You have this fear that curls around your heart that says “but what if she becomes my mother.” And she goes. She leaves and she takes your heart and your child (that you don’t even know about) and it’s like...fuck. Again. Because everyone leaves you, eventually. And somehow, it’s always your fault.

So, what I'm saying is, Eda endured a lot, sure. She was hurt. Their breakup in 14 was hard and I’m not denying that (although there is another post I could write about how since Eda never actually uses her words to tell him how she feels he can, perhaps, be understood in assuming that breaking up after barely being together would hurt but also that she would move on and live her life happily without him. Which I guess season 2 proves…) Losing Serkan to an accident/amnesia was hard, looking at the body of the man she loves but not seeing the man she loves must have been agony. But Serkan was fucking wrecked. So instead of choosing to write a plot where they both get to heal, where they both get to explore their pain and work through it together, we get Serkan who reverted to being a robot to cope with massive trauma and PTSD, and essentially is abandoned by everyone, again.

I guess what I'm saying is, if staying with him and supporting him when he was dealing with trauma was too much for her, then fine.That is very true for some people, and it’s certainly realistic. But I don't really think that jives with Eda and her character, and while it isn't a trauma competition, I'd still think Serkan comes out a winner here. Eda lost her parents, which was awful. She lost him, but she got him back. Twice. His trauma is losing his brother, being abandoned by his parents, a plane crash, amnesia, emotional manipulation/abuse and cancer. And then he gets punished by having his daughter taken away from him because he was having a hard time coping. Keeping a kid a secret isn't "protecting the child" it's punishing the father.

Tl;dr The direction they have taken the characters is gross for both mains, but if people are trying to justify Eda keeping his child from him because “he deserves it” or “she did what was best for her” then I think we maybe haven’t been watching the same show. Even if he said “I don’t want kids,” saying that to a hypothetical child is very different then being told “a baby is very much our reality.” Because that's the crux right? It's not that he decided he just didn't want to be a father ever, he's scared of having a family and losing them or of them losing him. And then she made that very fear be realized. Which is tragic and quite the opposite of what his life partner needed to do in that situation.

Bitte.

Thanks to @lolo-deli for the proofread and the final lines, you are the best. And for putting up with my uncontrollable ranting about this for days.

[werevulvi]

So I've been away from tumblr for a while. Not sure how long. Maybe a month? I'm writing a book (fiction) so I've been and still am busy with more fulfilling distractions from reality than social media. The book I'm writing is about a woman, Olga, who's transitioning like me, but then she's an assassin. I don't wanna get into all the itty gritty details of that until I'm done, but writing that book has been serving as a great distraction from my gender issues. Except I need to take breaks from my hyper-focused super intense writing spree at times to not accidentally boil my brain. What? Is working on a project for 10+ hours a day, every day, for over a month a little much? Sorry I can't hear you over my autistic hyperfocus. And those breaks get me tossed right back into... mostly dysphoria. That’s what I wanted to rant about.

I know this is an unfair accusation, but sometimes I wonder just how paranoid and anxious feminism has made me. I fully abhor victim mentality, but sometimes reading feminist posts, articles, etc, about the various evils of men (crime statistics, female victims' accounts of male violence, etc) makes me feel... like a victim, and hopeless, for being female. And it requires a lot of effort to dig myself out of that pit. I need to remind myself that I can trust men, that most of them are not violent, that they're not the real enemy, and that women are not so different from men. Otherwise what? Otherwise I'd give into my PTSD and get drowned out by my dysphoria.

PTSD says all men are dangerous and want my pussy, either to harm it or fuck it. PTSD says it's my fault I'm a victim of sexual trauma, because I am female. And I dunno why, but sometimes feminism echoes that sentiment, and that's not great for my recovery, or my long term pursuit of happiness. Dysphoria says I'm too different from men and that's why I hate being female. Dysphoria doesn't want any special treatment just because I'm female. Feminism echoes what my dysphoria says, sometimes, and that's not great. Dysphoria wants equal treatment. Receiving equity due to my "failed" sex feels like... I dunno, like wanting to crawl out of my fucking skin and set it on fire, I suppose. Bad female skin humiliating me. Because that again reminds me that my sex being female is what's wrong, and not the treatment of women as "weaker" and more emotionally frail. Then my solution is to get rid of my femaleness, so that I can be strong, fast and free. Independent enough to open a fucking jar. I feel trapped in the unfairness itself.

I still want to be different from women, not from men. I want to stand out among women, and I'm jokingly boasting about how I'm such an NLOG (Not Like Other Girls) and proud to be different, in masculine ways. I'm proud to be hairier, having a deeper voice, and that female socialization didn't stick to me as much. And likewise, I feel good when I'm similar to men, blend in among them, am compared to them as an equal to them, and that I managed to pick up on some male socialization. This is more subconscious, and not something I really think about.

I still wish I was male, and that impossible dream still hurts, I guess. I've been trying to distract myself from those thoughts by writing my book and... having sexual fantasies in which I am male. Clearly my own home made therapy that made me connect somewhat with being female (3 years ago) was ineffective in the long run, but now I can't possibly make myself believe I'm a man again, just because I still/again wish I was male. It comes and goes, yes, but it's seemingly in a curvy line that over time points me in the dysphoric direction, and not in the desisting direction. And that's what's so hard. That I basically have to force myself to this realization that... I can't talk myself out of my dysphoria, and that that little bit of connection I got to my sex 3 years ago, was an appetizer for a meal I'll never have. That feels cruel.

And I keep telling myself I don't have dysphoria. Nah, I'm just transitioning for the heck of it. If only!

I don't wanna be trans, and I don't wanna be dysphoric. I wanna be male, but that's different. I can't even see myself as a man simply because I am not male and can never be. Thus, I'm a woman, and unhappy with it. Yet, I clearly can't function as a woman socially either, and that frustrates me. I'm happy that I can look and sound so convincingly male in my appearance, and I'm really excited to go back on testosterone, but I... I feel trapped, in a medical condition I cannot escape. And it doesn't matter what fucking caused it, it's not going away! Point is it's not going away! I've tried for sixteen years! I am tired! And now I can't even call myself a man without laughing all the way to hell and back.

Everyone wants to be trans nowadays. Everyone who benefits from a new label. But I don't. Clearly I don't have an easy time with it, and it might be because I just have a shit ton of sex/physical dysphoria, and not even calling myself a man helps. It just adds insult to injury. I don't wanna play pretend, goddamnit, I wanna be a real boy! That's "problematic" to say, because I shouldn't shatter other trans people's dreams. Well, mine's shattered and I wanna whine about it. I don't blame them for their identities. How could I? Ignorance is bliss, and I miss bliss.

I think that's why I feel like I'm a woman who just wishes she was a man, and kinda always have. I wrote it in my diary when I was 16, four years before I even came out as trans, before I knew anything about trans ideology or gender critical or anything, but I knew I was dysphoric and fit the loose criteria for FTM transsexuals, and I didn't like that verdict. It felt like a death sentence, and now... now it feels like a cruel joke.

I don't think I'm really all that different from trans men. De-gendered, perhaps, but still just as bloody dysphoric and still just as much of a testosterone junkie. I'm just a less happy go lightly kinda FtM. I've always been a bit of a nihilist. The "if you leave the half full glass it will eventually dry the fuck out no matter how much water you keep pouring up into it, because the nature of water is to vaporize" -kinda nihilist, not the "the glass is half empty" -kind. Yes, there is a difference. I'm not a pessimist, I'm a hardcore realist, and reality is... being trans sucks and I can't do fucking shit about it. I want a solution, not rose tinted goggles. But at this point, I'd take that too. I've tried... but they keep falling off.

Perhaps I'm too autistic to get gender identity, or maybe I just don't have social dysphoria or gender incongruence, perhaps it just feels so fucking pointless. Words... they're just blah blah blah. They have whatever meaning we put in them. So I changed my personal meaning of "woman" to include my dysphoria and beard, and since then I'm fine with calling myself a woman. But woman is still just a word. It's what I am that I dislike, not what I'm supposed to call it. My problem is not in how people perceive me. They can perceive me as a stranded jelly fish if they so wish, it doesn't change reality that I'm an adult human female. And it's reality, that biological reality, that bothers me.

And I don't like that I realised that, because biological reality is the one thing I can't change. I can change my identity, but my identity as a woman is not the problem. The problem is my sex is still persistently female. And I don't wanna change what is not a problem. Why fix what ain't broken? I get that my sex isn't broken either (well it might be now, considering I've smashed it with testosterone) but I just don't wanna be a woman. Because dysphoria. No point in arguing. It just goes round and round in circles. I can't make a logical argument for why I don't like ketchup either though. It always comes back to "but I just don't like it."

I just get sad, sometimes, over being female, and uncomfortable. And I get envious of men's bodies, and then I get sad I can't have that. And I try to emulate what men's bodies do, which makes me feel a bit better, but then I remember I'm still female, and I try to be okay with that. Sometimes I even half succeed, and feel like "yeah, being a woman is actually kinda badass!" but then I remember that a cranky uterus and estrogen exist in my body, acting as if they want me to suffer a slow (very slow) death, and I get sad again. Is trying to like being a woman even worth it, considering that's mostly been going downhill since I was 3 years old? Well what the hell are my options, aside from that?! Pretending to be a man? Pretending that the nonbinary labels could do anything at all to benefit my existence?

I'm sorry, but I don't see the appeal, in either of those options. I'll try to just exist. That became my focus; just existing. But I can't distract myself 24/7. Because as soon as I stop distracting myself, for even just a minute, I get caught in the inevitable doom that is my dysphoria, and how hopelessly trapped I am inside it.