#have been things that benefit her specifically as a woman

[loveisbraveandwild]

ok the thought i woke up with is i think its very interesting that people conflate being a gay ally with being a trans ally,,,, just cause u fight for people of the same sex to get married does not mean u get to claim lgbtq+ ally with your entire chest and in fact i think a lot of gay allies are actively transphobic, whether knowingly or not

[genderqueerdykes]

as an intersex trans wo/man, i've noticed that unfortunately it has become painfully obvious that not only do radfems and terfs try to abuse trans men into falling in line with their beliefs, but unfortunately, this happens to trans women and transfemmes as well. i've unfortunately seen several trans women fall down the the "men evil, women innocent, trans men have cis male privilege, trans men don't struggle, trans men aren't men or trans they're just confused butches," pipeline really quickly after transitioning or their eggs cracking, and it's not necessarily that transfem's fault, but rather an abusive person sweeping in to take advantage of someone who needs and wants validation in feeling like a woman. the person who put the terf ideals in their head during this crucial stage in development is to blame, it is not inherently the trans woman's fault.

vulnerable transfems and trans women become indoctrinated into these things. trans women and fems are not inherently bitter, shitty, hateful people. it's a select few who become groomed by radfems who push this belief, and push it hard, because that's what you do when youve been indoctrinated into a cult. it's not an issue inherent to trans women and transfeminism at all- it's vulnerable people being groomed. this is a serious issue of trans women and fems being groomed and brainwashed.

this is a huge deal and we have to stand up for each other, because the transfems getting groomed into this need support and help to get out of this cult. it is not okay for women who are just trying to find their footing to almost instantly get sucked up into a literal hate group. we have to help trans people who become indoctrinated into gender essentialism, antimasculism, and transandrophobia just as much as we help other trans people unlearn transmisogyny. these issues are both damaging our community on the whole.

radfems are aggressive and will try to indoctrinate anyone they can into antimasculism, transandrophobia, and gender essentialism. a lot of trans women in the early stages of transition really want to be validated as women and such, will become groomed by these groups of cis women who will gladly feed them toxic ideals like women can never be wrong, women are always innocent, men are always harmful and evil, it just benefits the radfems, not the trans woman. this behavior grooms yet another person into spreading radfeminism without realizing it. when one espouses these beliefs they become a spokesperson for radfeminism and terfism

i'm plain tired of seeing this argument, because it is nothing but gender essentialist binarist bullshit:

"transphobia is worse for trans women than trans men because of x, y, z."

its not worse. its different. but equal.

i understand that many folks have not lived the life a trans man leads, but whenever you try to speculate on what it's like, you will always be wrong, no matter what, because you weren't in that person's shoes. it's impossible to see the nitty gritty of how a specific group of people are treated unless you are that person or spend lots of time around large groups of those types of people. trans men face homelessness at a disproportionately high rate compared to other groups of queer folk. we also deal with forced detransition. we deal with being dehumanized by she/her pronouns. we deal with having lesbianism and butchness weaponized against us. we also deal with sexual violence. we also deal with physical, mental, and emotional abuse. we deal with gaslighting, lying, being robbed, abandoned, injured and killed. its virtually impossible to find support if you're a pregnant trans man.

trans men have a lot of unique struggles. this is not a comprehensive list, but rather to show you that ALL trans people struggle. we are united under the same banner of transphobic treatment. we are struggling, but we are struggling together, and we can uplift each other without tearing each other down. punching down on another trans person hurts us all.

belittling the trauma of other trans people is a form of queer infighting that terfs want you to do in order to fracture our community further. queer infighting doesn't help anyone whatsoever. trans men do not have it harder than trans women. trans women do not have it harder than trans men. amab and afab and intersex enbies don't have it worse than each other. these are all completely different and unique struggles that deserve to be acknowledged for what they are. you cannot use the same scale of severity for a totally different problem.

people love to completely gloss over the issues trans men face for the sake of believing that all men benefit from patriarchy. saying that trans men are not affected by specific kinds of transphobia is spreading the radfem belief that only women struggle under patriarchy. queer men, men of color, intersex men, gay men, bisexual men, trans men, polyamorous men, genderfluid men, bigender men, gender non conforming men, feminine men, men who crossdress, disabled men, neurodivergent men, mentally ill men, and other marginalized men suffer under patriarchy as well.

i'm not tolerating radfem gender essentialism being woven into queer ideals anymore. this behavior has to go. when you genuinely believe these things, we all lose.

[chlorinecake]

sunghoon.

= 𝓙𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 ── P.SH 💬

in which your long distance bf craves your contact...

pairing. ⌂ needy boyfriend sunghoon x f. reader ⌂ contains. mostly suggestive content but with tons of explicit implications, flirting, a bit of fluff, somewhat perv!hoon, long distance relationship au (sawie) ⌂ word count. 1160 🖱 ⑅ path to bookshelf ◍

❝ Incoming Call from Sunghoon ❄️ ❞

Your laptop screen read spontaneously.

Ahh, yes… the love of my life among many other luxuries, you smiled within yourself, just as you pressed the green ‘answer’ icon.

Though, it had been roughly thirty minutes since then, with the clock on your computer screen now displaying an oddly habitual series of digits...

2:57am

You and your boyfriend's conversation started off strong with wholesome pleasantries and heartwarming exchanges as usual…

But as the hour grew wearier, the topics on the table became more and more raunchy by the minute… not that you were complaining, that is…

And neither was he…

It had literally been over a week since Sunghoon last saw you in the flesh… since he last got to feel you in his arms or taste you on his tongue…

And so, FaceTiming had become a great method for you two to stay in touch on a more personal level whenever he was away for work.

Click.

You got up from your bed to make sure that your bedroom door was locked, but also to make sure that Sunghoon knew you were wearing his favorite pair of plaid pajama pants...

The one's he had sent as an “X-mas in July” gift...

“Your ass looks good in those,” he started from behind the screen, folding his toned pale arms over the pillow he laid on.

“Just wait til you see what's hiding underneath,” you returned seductively, adding the word “tomorrow” at the end to which Sunghoon sighed.

“Right, because I've already been waiting forever and a day to relieve my sexual tension this week… another day to the prison sentence wouldn’t hurt…”

“Awww,” you pouted facetiously at him, “I thought you liked it whenever I teased you.…”

“In-person, sure. That’s when I can handle it, but online? Pfft,” he says, running an impatient hand through his hair.

“Fine… let’s play a game to take your mind off of things—”

“I bet I can guess what color panties you’re wearing right now…”

“Sunghoon!?” You exclaimed with shock, making your boyfriend smirk shamelessly at your adorable reaction, “and do you expect some sort of reward if you guess correctly?”

“After three tries, yes,” he nodded, clearing his throat slightly before proceeding with his series of guesses.

“Hmm,” he began, “are they that one lacy black pair you have with the bows on the side?”

“No,” you answered while laughing, “and just guess a color, not a specific pair…”

“Alright alright… hmm,” he hummed in thought, looking above as if an answer would fall from the sky.

“White?”

“Guess again,” your voice sang playfully this time, “you have one chance left now…”

“Shit, okay… I have a suggestion then…”

“Uh oh, plot twist,” you said, making him chuckle slightly, “go on…”

“How about you just show me your panties and then I’ll tell you what color they are?”

“Gosh, you really know a way to a woman’s heart, don’t you Hoon?” You asked rhetorically, ‘tsking’ at his fraudulent suggestion.

“Of course I do… taking a guess here, but you’re supposed to start between her legs, right?”

You shook your head at your boyfriends words, letting an exaggerated sigh escape your lips… “Even if that were true, it’s not like it’d benefit you right now, anyways…”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Because you’re behind a screen,” you began matter-of-factly, “miles and miles away with only your right hand and some amateur porn to keep you company…”

“But I have you, too, princess,” he smiled, adjusting himself on the mattress so he could get closer to the camera, “unless you’re thinking about leaving me already…”

“Please, I would never,” you say in an almost offended tone, “that would be child neglect…”

“Oh, so you’re my mommy now?”

You gave him the best side-eye you could muster, making him chuckle at how you cute you looked in your oversized glasses…

“If you’re into that, sure,” you finally answered.

“Well then your baby wants to see his mommy’s tits,” he replied almost instantly, innocently nuzzling his chin into his pillow, “and without the bra this time, thanks…”

“I’m not showing your sick ass shit,” you returned while laughing, throwing up a few ‘L signs’ with your fingers as he chuckled at your rejection, showcasing his pearly fangs.

Letting himself calm down from laughing, he cleared his throat before speaking again, “My next guess is white, then…”

“But you already guessed white earlier?”

“And I’m guessing it again,” he repeated, making you quirk a suspicious brow at him.

“If you’re trying to imply that I creamed my pants, you’re wrong.”

“Oh my God, ____,” he sighs dramatically, adjusting his laying position on his bed once more, “can you just tell me that I’m right so we can fuck already?”

“Oh, so you waited all this time to tell me that sex was supposed to be the reward?!”

“Well, yea, I figured it was obvious,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Damn, Hoon… when you put it like that, it makes me think my body’s all you want…”

“You know that’s not all I want, baby,” he corrected, licking his lips while stretching out the tiredness in his back, “I just don’t like being in the position to beg for it, y’know?”

“Welcome to my world…” you said.

“Thanks for having me,” he smiled back, rubbing his eyes as a frustrated groan left his mouth.

“What’s the problem now, you big baby?”

He hid his face in his pillow before speaking, “I’m horny and youuuu are not helping…”

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend’s attempt to fault you for his frustration, “I wouldn’t be much help to you anyways given the distance…”

He abruptly lifted his head from the pillow to flash you a dumbfounded look, “Babe… why’re you acting like e-sex doesn’t exist?”

“Because it’s literally 3 am and I trust that you can be patient til I can see you properly,” you clarified, adding yet another “tomorrow” at the end of your sentence.

And all Sunghoon could bring himself to do at this point was pout, hiding his face in the pillow once again which made you giggle at his sulking.

“Babyyyy…. C’monnn, you can wait for me, can’t you?” You asked in a sickeningly sweet tone, tilting your head at him in a cooing manner.

“I’m literally two seconds from slapping my dick against the screen because of your face right now,” he confessed shamelessly, making you burst into a fit of laughter.

“You’re so out of pocket for saying that,” you giggle, covering your face slightly to hide how flustered you appeared.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he said, a giggle still present in your throat as you tried regathering your emotions.

“Continue, continue…” you whisper with a warm smile on your face now, looking like a split image of the crying emoji in this moment.

“Thank you,” he scoffed with feigned offense, “but yes… I can wait til tomorrow… just for you, angel…”

tysm for reading this quick lil fic ✗⚬ﾒ𝟶 a/n ℓօⓥe always ⋆⋆⋆

[kasagia]

Dancing With The Devil

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: Your whole life revolved around court intrigues, gaining influence, and extracting the darkest secrets from important nobility. As a woman, there wasn't much you could do or count on. Unless you provide yourself with status and position through a good marriage. You've made your life perfect. You had a complete plan and vision for your future—even after the unexpected loss of your fiancé, you managed to rise up and find another good match—until the Na-Baron decided to interfere with it and ruin everything you had been working for. You were about to find out for yourself that dancing with the devil never led to anything good. Even if the consequences of this come after some time... Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

"What do you mean by saying that Paul Atreides is dead?"

"Exactly that." Your mother replies with her typical calm, adjusting the crown on her head in the mirror. "He and his family went on a diplomatic mission to Arrakis. They were attacked by… a group of rebels. More specifically, it was probably Sardaukar, but we all know who benefited more from the death of the Atreides." You shudder at the mere mention of the Harkonnens. However, you still can't get over the shock of the revelation you've just heard.

"It is impossible. They couldn't kill them all, after all... what about Caladan? And the plans of the Bene Gesserit? The Emperor would never…"

"The Emperor is not the same man you knew. As he grows older, he grows not in wisdom but in fear. He is more afraid of maintaining his throne than of the good of the empire. And, as we all know, Paul was his most likely successor. So he killed him before he could kill him." She explains this to you, making sure that her appearance is impeccable. She turns from the mirror and nods to the maid, ordering her to give her a coat in your family's colours and embroidered with the decorations and symbols of your house.

"I... are you just trying to tell me that I don't have a fiancé?"

"Unless you want to marry his corpse, yes, that's what I am trying to say to you from the beginning." Your mother snorts in amusement, watching you as you are still in shock, trying to process this unexpected, terrible news. The shock in you slowly gives way to anger. This wasn't how things were supposed to look.

"Mother, you should know how tragic this situation is. After all, the season is almost over; when will I get any suitors? Should I be without any for a year? And then another one? You know perfectly well that most of the descendants of high families have already announced their courtship. Am I supposed to end up as a spinster?"

"Calm down. The season isn't over yet. Since... Caladan has an unstable political situation, Princess Irulan suggested that we take over the main, final celebrations. All you have to do is dress nicely, present yourself well, and catch whatever poor young men come here." You snort mockingly at her feeble attempts to comfort and reassure you.

"I won't have a better husband than Paul. He was the perfect match! Not ugly, easy to control, filthy rich, only son who was supposed to inherit everything—where will you find me another husband like that?" You ask furiously, more concerned about the consequences of his death for you than the fact that you will never meet your fiancé ever again. You couldn't end up as a spinster. You couldn't marry just anyone, either, or, worse, end up as a mere concubine. You didn't spend all these years beautifying your appearance and studying politics, martial arts, economics, and biological sciences to marry some insignificant idiot from an unknown family and planet.

"It's going to be hard, I won't lie, but we'll get through it. We are Y/L/N. We never give up and always achieve our goals. You're too beautiful, darling, to become a spinster. And too smart to marry some insignificant lord."

"You too were, and yet you ended up with my father."

"I married him out of love and love... love makes us do stupid things. But you are smarter than me. You can do much better, I have no doubt about that. We'll give you a week of mourning before we throw the first party. During this time, we will review... available men. To know who to focus on." You nod, agreeing with her plan. You couldn't immediately rush out to find another suitor when your previous one had just been buried beneath the sands of Arrakis. You had to pretend you were crying for him.

It wasn't like you didn't care about Paul at all. You liked him. He was a good conversation partner and a nobel man. But in this situation, you felt more sorry for yourself. You were left with no fiancé, no suitor, and no other alternative.

And if there was anything worse for a woman in this world than death, it was either infertility or becoming a spinster whom no one paid any attention to. You could have handled every other situation perfectly well, but not such humiliation.

Or at least that's what you thought until you crossed paths with the one and only Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

You stand against the wall, sipping your champagne with probably the sourest expression on your face. The masquerade ball had already started an hour ago and you still couldn't find anyone whose attention you could attract.

You and your mother had looked through... all the possible options, but none of the men who came here were fooled by your sweet swan appearance. And if he did, he proposed after just a few minutes of conversation. You may have been in a desperate situation, but you weren't looking for a desperate man.

Standing against the wall allowed you to take a closer look at the nobles present at the ball. You caught a few rumours and scandalous behaviour—touching too long, stolen kisses, and a few other things—but you didn't feel like thinking about them at all when the vision of your future looked so bleak.

Your bad mood is only fueled by Irulan's presence and how she's clearly having a great time at your funeral. As if she had achieved another one of her many victories. Lucky bitch.

You sigh and place your glass on the tray of a passing servant. You are about to leave the masquerade ball when your attention is caught by a man standing alone on the other side of the room.

His outfit is… unusual. His black coat is finished with sharp metal decorations, making it resemble more of a fancy armour than a classic formal outfit. The black mask completely covers his face and the back of his head, leaving only his full lips and part of his defined jaw to your eyes. 

And you really like those lips. Very much. You decide that today you will test their softness when the stranger's cold blue eyes meet yours. A shiver of excitement runs through you as you imagine the things you could do with this intoxicatingly beautiful man. And maybe it's the alcohol you drank or your pathetic longing to be the centre of someone's attention that makes you feel brave enough to approach him.

As you slowly approach him and look at him closely, you realise what he's disguised as. The black swan. It was so good for you that you decided to be the white one tonight.

However, the man suddenly disappears in the crowd of people. You frown and look around, searching for him, but somehow you can't. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. You freeze when you suddenly feel someone's presence behind you. A shiver of excitement runs down your spine as the man's husky whisper echoes in your ear.

"Looking for someone, my lady?" You turn your head to meet the same icy blue irises up that were watching you from across the room a moment ago.

Goosebumps run through you as his gaze inexplicably hypnotises you. This could be your opportunity; you just had to play your cards well and make him more interested in you. The circumstances and scenery were perfect—downright romantic, like from a book. You just had to make this handsome devil equally enchanted by you. You must have caught his attention if he decided to play with you and chase you to get to you first.

You also need to find out who owns those captivating lips and eyes whose colour rivals the ocean waves. Oh, and how you desperately wanted to immerse yourself in them...

"My lord." You curtsy, turning fully to face him to study him even more carefully. He was tall, with a muscular figure visible under his clothes that you wanted to explore with your fingers. You lick your lips, shifting your gaze back to his, and catch him assessing you with his eyes, just like you had just done with him. "I couldn't help but notice how... coincidentally, we fit together with our choice of outfits."

"Indeed, we do. Although I personally think you would look better in black, little swan." The nickname he gives you and the arrogance in his voice make you snort mockingly, raising an eyebrow at him defiantly as you become even more fascinated by this mysterious man.

"Why is that?"

"You may look like a tiny, innocent bird in this white, pretty dress, but your eyes—your eyes give it all away, my lady. You can try to deceive men with this... undoubtedly beautiful sight for the eyes, but not all of us fall so easily to the false mirage—maybe only lesser men—but you're not desperate enough to seek the attention of a mere duke or count, who would be easily led by you, are you?"

"And who are you to make such bold assumptions?" You ask furiously, glaring at him as he gently strokes the collar of your dress with his fingertip, playing a little with the white feathers that were attached to it. He smirks, his white teeth gleaming dangerously, reminding you of the smile of a wolf before it catches its prey.

"Definitely not a lesser man." He replies, undaunted by your anger. His hand slides from the collar of your dress over your shoulder as he grabs your gloved hand and presses a soft kiss on it, and you can barely keep yourself from closing your eyes and giving in to the pleasant feeling of having his plush, full lips so close and yet so far from your skin. "May I? I believe that this beautiful dress will look better while moving…"

At this point, you should refuse. Thank him for his company and go find a... more suitable one. But you can't deny that he's read you accurately so far and that he's touched a part of you that you haven't shown to anyone. You were too curious to just let him go; you wanted to stay with him longer and see what would come of this acquaintance with him.

So you nod and let him lead you to the dance floor. A few heads turn towards you, but you can't reach anything other than him, and the feeling of his larger hand gently holding yours in a strange way makes your heart flutter slightly.

You feel like he's put a spell on you, and strangely, you don't want to break out of it at all.

His eyes never leave yours. You're almost dizzy from how intensely he's looking at you. He places his hand on your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. He holds you tight enough so that you can feel his touch on you, and it isn't painful for you. He leads you into a dance with incredible grace for a man, spinning you around to the rhythm of the music.

He's so close to you that you can smell his scent, which is as addictive as his burning attention. The smell of anise, musk, and hot spices assaulting your nostrils makes you involuntarily lean towards him, wanting to be as close to him as good manners allow. However, you know that if you spend another few minutes longer in his presence, all your mother's teachings will be forgotten in favour of... getting closer to this compelling man.

"So what do you believe in then? If you don't believe in coincidence? Destiny?" You ask, trying to shake off this strange feeling of loss of control he's giving you.

And you almost fail miserably, barely keeping yourself from blushing as his low chuckle makes you burn even more for him. You had to find some flaw in him—something that would turn you off if you didn't want to lose your mind completely, because for now, everything about this man was sinfully pleasant.

"We create our destiny. Don't you agree?"

"Sometimes things are beyond your control, my lord." You disagree with him, keeping your searching gaze on him as his hands move to your hips.

You bite your bottom lip as he lifts you up in one fluid motion, following the steps of the dance. The ease with which he shifts you and spins you so that your back is against his chest as he sets you down on the floor again makes your cheeks blush as you think of all the ways you could use his large, strong hands. You feel like a horny teenager in her first season. And you don't like it at all.

"And sometimes, all we need to do is take a step and reach out for what is rightfully ours." He whispers in your ear, wrapping his hands around you, never stopping his movements.

You swallow thickly as he places your joined hands on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your bare collarbone. You bite your tongue, trying to hold back a moan when you feel the rough skin of his hands, confirming your suspicions that his toned physique is built from years of training and fighting. This fuels your desire for him even more.

"Possible. But our reputation suffers because of it. You can't escape the eyes of society. No matter how hard you try, my lord." Your eyes fall on the couples dancing around you.

You gasp when he suddenly wraps his arm around your waist and turns you around, forcing you to face him again. You almost bump into his chest, completely unprepared for such a sudden move from him. He gives you a mischievous smirk and a wink, amused at how he managed to catch you off guard and off-balance. You purse your lips, causing his eyes to shift to them.

"Do you know what freedom you can achieve when you throw off the yoke of your reputation? How many opportunities are open to you?" He whispers hoarsely, leaning towards you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze as your heart beats frantically against your chest. You get the feeling he has in his mind... something much less pure and decent. And you almost trembled in his arms with excitement.

"Do you know how many doors close in front of you? No one wants to associate with a vile person rejected by society."

"Oh, but those nefarious always seem to get their attention, don't you think? They are invited out of sheer curiosity about how they will behave and what exciting and forbidden things they will do. They are the source of the most virulent gossip; you won't deny it, right, little swan?"

"Possible. Are you one of them?" You ask, curious about his identity.

He gives you a mysterious, mocking smirk as he chuckles throatily. He leans down and brushes his lips against your ear. You sigh as his lips press a small kiss to your earlobe, your heart racing as you feel him so close to you. You wait in suspense for what he will do next, completely oblivious to the people around you, who, fortunately, are too busy with themselves to notice what is happening around them. You'd never been so happy about wearing a mask before, even though it was a way to protect your identity and allow yourself... to do a little more in such a public place.

"Oh darling… what if I told you that I'm the worst of them all?" He whispers seductively, biting your ear. You gasp, digging your fingers into his arm, holding on to anything as he plays cruelly with you.

At this point, you should thank him for this dance, turn around, and find another company. But there's something... magnetic about this man that draws you closer and closer to him.

Maybe it's the thrill of the unknown—the excitement of how different this man seems from the rest of the people here. And even though your mind is screaming at you, and rightly so, to back away before you burn yourself with the fire that burns from him, you want to follow him like a moth, desperately wanting to bathe in the glow of these new sensations he is giving you.

So, without thinking about it for a long time, you grab his hand and lead him out of the room. Surprisingly, he obediently follows you, not questioning you as the two of you walk through various corridors. You lead him towards the exit—straight to the palace gardens, where there should be much fewer people who couldn't... overhear you.

You drag him into the maze, taking him to one of the dead ends. Before he can say anything, you lean in and kiss him lustfully. You moan at the feeling of his soft lips caressing yours, and you tighten your hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. The metal trim of his outfit digs into you, but you ignore the feeling, completely absorbed by the way his tongue slips into your waiting mouth.

Under different circumstances, if it were known to him who you were and there was no mask covering half of your face, you would never have dared to take such a... bold step. But now, with him so close to you and your identity safe under the white feather mask, you moan into his mouth, letting yourself bask in the feeling of desire.

You and Paul... fooled around a few times, but the furthest you went was touching each other. But with this man, the man whose name you didn't know and who was currently sucking the air from your mouth, you felt completely different.

All your nerves were on fire. Every inch of you was begging for his touch and undivided attention. You couldn't help but moan and melt into his hands as he possessively tightened his grip on your hip, pulling you much closer to his body.

Your bodies fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle, and you couldn't help but wonder if your souls were also two halves that fit together thoroughly.

Just when you feel like you can't go without air any longer, his mouth stops attacking yours, instead caressing and nipping at the skin of your jaw and moving to your neck.

Suddenly, the corset you're in becomes too tight, and breathing becomes increasingly difficult for you as his lips mark your neck, making your already lust-crazed heart beat faster. You whine, your hands tracing his muscular torso, as you find yourself in extreme conflict. You know you should push him away and that you shouldn't let him mark you so clearly, but on the other hand, he brings you so much pleasure and makes you shiver just from the feeling of his lips on your neck. You dread to think what he would do to you if he moved a little further south of your body—if he kneeled in front of you and did to you things you only read about in the privacy of your chamber.

You quickly cover your mouth with your hand as you are about to scream when his teeth dig into your neck. He sucks on the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a clear mark on you. Your eyes widen in shock when you hear a threatening growl from him. His hand grabs yours tightly, removing it from your mouth, and his icy blue eyes flash with anger, giving you a furious glare.

"Hold back your moans and screams one more time, and I will make sure the people in the palace hear you crying because of me, little swan. And believe me, I can make it only pleasant for me, so don't test my patience and mercy and be a good girl for me." He growls, tightening his grip on your hand that he pinned to the hedge behind you.

He kisses you hard, chastisingly, as he takes a step towards you, closing any space between you. Your breasts rub against his chest as he presses against you, and you think you can feel his hardness through the layers of your clothes.

A short gasp escapes you as his hand travels beneath the layers of your dress. His fingers take their time caressing the skin of your legs, slowly climbing up to where you needed to have him as soon as your eyes fell on him. You decide to compromise with him and pull him into a kiss so as not to attract unwanted attention from any of the guests.

You gasp as his fingers brush against your clothed core. His raspy chuckle as he discovers the undeniable flood between your legs makes you blush with embarrassment and anger. Your breathing quickens as you reach out to grab his cock, squeezing him painfully tight for teasing you. A loud moan leaves his lips swollen from kissing, making you want to extract other, equally temptingly beautiful sounds from him.

But before you can do anything, he drops to his knees in front of you and lifts the folds of your white dress. You shiver, feeling his breath between your legs as he takes his time stroking your thighs, caressing them with his soft lips.

You moan as he sucks and bites the skin of your inner thighs, teasing you as he blatantly ignores your needy pussy. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, biting your lip as you try to pull him to your clothed core. He growls while spanking your pussy. You scream at the sudden, burning sensation, your legs shaking, so only his strong hands are keeping you upright.

You tilt your head back, resting it against the hedge, and moan softly as he presses a teasing kiss on your clothed core. His fingers gently slip under your panties, only to rip the fabric off of you in one quick movement.

You sigh as his nose brushes against your folds as he inhales your scent, stuffing your torn panties into his pants pocket. His tongue gently and teasingly tastes your wetness, making you even more frustrated. You push aside the fabric of your dress and take his hand that was exploring the curve of your ass and pull it to your pussy which is screaming for his attention.

His chuckle stimulates your clit, making you moan and pushing your hips into him in a desperate attempt to find a release. He growls angrily at your impatience and grabs your hips in an iron grip, positioning you to his liking and plan.

You hold your breath as his fingers gently enter you, soothing the burning feeling of emptiness inside you. His tongue plays with your clit, sucking every last drop of your juices out of you, as if he's as addicted to your taste and sounds as you are to the feeling of his touch and the way he fills you.

You feel your orgasm building. You close your eyes in blissful relief, allowing yourself to moan, not caring if anyone can hear you. Your fingers dig into his neck. He growls against your pussy as you draw his blood from him and intensifies his ministrations. His fingers move in and out quickly as he sucks on your most sensitive spot, as if he's trying to mark you there and leave you a hickey there.

Your fingers run up his neck. You want to pull his hair—hurt him as much as he hurts you. Your fingertips find their way beneath the black fabric of his mask covering his head, but when you reach out to grab his hair, you're met with bare skin.

And then everything falls into place in your head.

When the realisation comes to you, you freeze, you lose all feeling, and all you can do is stand there and think about who you let under your dress and between your legs.

Harkonnen. You were being eaten by a fucking Harkonnen, and judging by his body structure, voice, and the guest list you've looked through hundreds of times, by one and only Feyd-Rautha, Na-Barron of Giedi Prime.

You tremble, not at all because of the feeling of how his fingers and tongue work continuously on your orgasm, intensifying your sensations as he lets out soft moans at the taste of you, but because pure terror overwhelms your whole body. You unconsciously tighten the hug on his neck, which only increases the intensity of his… efforts on your wet folds, as he wants to take you over the edge.

You take advantage of the fact that he's too... distracted and push him away from you. You grab the skirt of your dress and run fast, as far away from him as possible. Your heart races as you hear his soft growl before, to your even greater dismay, he chases after you.

You run through a maze, trying to lose Harkonnen among many paths, hoping he will reach a dead end and lose your trail, or at least to find some group of people. After all, he won't be able to do anything to you in front of witnesses—or maybe he could?

You tremble at the thought that the same hands that cut the throats of servants and concubines, hands that killed prisoners in the arena and people in battle, touched you and were the cause of your... your pleasure.

How stupid you were! How could you allow yourself to be seduced by Harkonnen and carried away by your stupid emotions and desires? You mentally curse him, his family, and Paul Atreides, whose death made you have to chase men again to find a suitable husband. And especially you curse how amazing and extraordinary you felt under the touch of this bloodthirsty beast, whose house has been nefarious for centuries.

You run forward, not daring to turn around to see if he's still chasing you. You're so lost in your thoughts and so scared that you accidentally run into someone. You gasp as a hand grips your waist tightly, preventing you from falling. You have a heart attack, thinking that it could be him and that he has somehow outsmarted you. But when you look up, you don't see blue irises, but green ones.

"Forgive me, my lord. I didn't mean to..." Your words stop as you take a closer look at the man. He wasn't wearing a mask; he apparently abandoned it when he entered the garden, and you have to say, he's... handsome. Very.

“Of course you didn't mean to. You couldn't see me when you were running so fast, which makes me wonder: From what are you running away, my lady?"

"I... To be honest, I'm running away from my maids. And that ball. It's just… too much excitement for one evening." You lie, quickly making up an excuse.

Obviously, you won't tell him that you're being chased by the horny Harkonnen heir, with whom you were ALONE in the garden. That would be a scandal. Just talking to this man now could be considered that way too... let alone what you allowed Feyd-Rautha to do to you.

"I think so too. Viscount Y/L/N throws good parties, but… they're a little too loud for my liking. Too vibrant." He comments, offering his arm to you. You can't help but smile as you place your hand in the crook of his arm.

Luckily, he leads the two of you in the opposite direction you were running from. You see that his brown and gold mask is tied to his arm, and on his finger he has... the ring of the Luwael family, a close family of Emperor Corrino. You just talked to the emperor's cousin, the pretender to his throne since he has no son.

You can't believe how lucky you are.

"Tell me about it, I've been enduring it since I was 15." You say it jokingly, giggling when you see his eyes widen as he realises he's gossiping about your father, and you think he looks adorable and cute in his state of little panic.

"Lady Y/N Y/L/N?" He asks, shocked. You nod and reach for the ribbon of your mask, removing it. You see his pupils dilate slightly as he takes in your appearance, his cheeks turning pink—whether from embarrassment or lust, you don't know, but you still like his reaction to you. "My apologies, I didn't mean to offend…."

"You did not." You interrupt him quickly with a charming smile. "It's... refreshing to be able to talk to someone who has similar opinions and feelings. At least when it comes to those terrible balls."

"Sometimes I feel like they force us to participate just to have something to gossip about later."

"Don't you like gossip?" You ask curiously, raising an eyebrow as you continue your walk through the gardens. You completely forget about Harkonnen and your... mistake, as you are trying to gain the interest of the man next to you.

This could be your big chance.

True, you heard that he and Irulan were to marry so that power would remain in Corrino's hands, but... if you make him want you, no one will stop him from taking you as his wife.

"I don't like court intrigues. The way ladies throw themselves at lords just to gain a higher title."

"Maybe for you men, marriage is more than just a financial transaction, but unfortunately for most of us, it's all about stability. The security of our lives is the most important thing here, and love—love is a complex and difficult thing; most often, unfortunately, it is only in books. Won't you agree?"

"Possible. But I would rather my wife love me than the power I give her." You smile in understanding. So you have a romantic in front of you... You have to adjust your role well, so you keep your true thoughts to yourself. You innocently hang your head, feigning uncertainty.

"This is completely understandable. Don't all of us dream about it? Have someone of your own, trusted, to whom you can confide all your dreams and fears without being afraid of being laughed at or ignored?" You ask, turning your head to look at him as you ask him your final question.

By the way he watches you with a burning light in his eyes, you know you've come to the right place and have successfully sold your image of a weak, defenceless woman dreaming of a real courtly romance. Pathetic. However, you will do anything to get a husband, you'll even pretend to be a helpless lamb.

"Yes... I assume that's what all of us want. Maybe expect the Harkonnens." You laugh at his joke, feeling very awkward at the same time as the memory of a certain Harkonnen's lips comes back to you.

You curse yourself for how damn good he made you feel. They may not have known love, but if they were all like Na-Baron, they knew damn well how to please their women—a thing you couldn't say about all the lords of the great houses.

You and Lord Luwael walk around the garden for a while before you both decide to head back to the ballroom. You put on your masks, and the man escorts you back, all the while being a perfect gentleman, including dancing, which he later asked you for.

You have fun maintaining your image as a hopeless romantic who wants to find true love and break away from the courtly conventions that overwhelm you—a perfect match for the emperor's heir. He doesn't tell you his identity until the end of the evening, but you don't mind. You know you've charmed him. And that he will seek your company at the next events of this season.

What you don't know is that certain icy-blue irises are watching you two furiously as you are led back into the ballroom by Lord Luwael. You also don't know that the Harkonnens are persistent and ruthless people who can wait years for their plans to be implemented, and that their devilish Na-Baron is truly the worst of them all...

Or that Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen decided a long time ago that you would become his wife. It didn't matter what he had to do or how to achieve his goal.

In the future, you will often regret this night and dancing with the Harkonnen devil. Very often.

~9 years earlier~

“They say he killed his mother. That his uncle and brother are training him to become a killer beast. That he is now devoid of any emotion except anger and bloodlust, and Paul told me that he apparently even has concubines.” Irulan gossips with you as the two of you watch in the distance as Feyd-Rautha trains in the courtyard.

The emperor invited several greater families to discuss something. You weren't too interested about it. Your mother simply packed your things and said you were leaving for a week. But you were happy. You had the opportunity to play with other nobles' children and it was definitely a nice break from listening to your parents' constant arguments.

"Nonsense. He's our age. Let's ask him if he wants to play with us." You decide and stand up to walk over to the hairless boy. Irulan grabs your hand tightly and pulls you back to your hiding place behind the pillar.

"He is a Harkonnen, Y/N. They don't play." She says and leans out to look at him. He swings his sword several times, making several quick movements and turns.

"But he isn't like them. He grew up on Lankiveil. Besides, I still remember him when he had blonde hair. And Harkonnens have no hair, so..."

"Baron made him his heir. Of course he had to... make himself look like them." She interrupts you, wrinkling her nose in disgust. You shiver slightly at the mere mention of the baron and nod thoughtfully.

"Pity. His blonde curls were pretty." You comment and lean out to look at him. You hold your breath as you make eye contact with him. He looks at you coldly, not moving an inch. You wave at him, giving him a hesitant smile. He stares at you for a while longer before he turns on his heel, his back to you, as he continues his training as if nothing had happened. "Still, we should have asked him. He looks quite lonely."

"NO. I won't be nice to him. If my mother gives a son to my father and I have to marry this… Harkonnen, I will throw myself from the tower."

"Why from the tower?" You ask, confused, frowning at the girl.

"I don't know. This is what the main characters in books do when something terrible happens to them. They say they will throw themselves off the tower."

"I prefer it when they fight the dragon." You say this, glancing at the boy again. You don't know why, but something just wouldn't let you walk away and leave him, although you really want to play with Paul, Irulan, and the other kids. You find yourself much more wanting to play with this strange boy.

You frown when you see him accidentally cut his hand. He doesn't cry like Paul did when you slammed his hand in the door. Instead, he puts his mouth on the wound and sucks out the blood. He tears off a piece of his clothes, wraps it around his hand, and continues training.

And somehow, it makes you make a decision.

"Y/N! What are you doing?!" Irulan hisses at you as you pull your hand from her grasp and take a step towards the courtyard.

"Fighting the dragon. Wish me luck." You answer, and without looking back, you head towards the training boy. His pale, bald head almost gleams in the sun, and you can't help but wonder if his lack of hair makes him less tolerant of the sun's heat.

When you are close to him, you stand still, not wanting to accidentally impale yourself on his sword. He notices you out of the corner of his eye, stops swinging his sword, and turns towards you, looking at you closely.

"Hi." You say as you wave at him.

"Lady Y/N." His voice is slightly hoarse, as if he had sandpapered it. You frown, surprised by such a formal greeting. Usually, only adults greet you like that.

"Um... my lord?" You answer hesitantly and shake your head, trying to ignore how strange he's acting. "Do you want to join us? We are playing hide and seek." You say, pointing your thumb at the pillar you and Irulan were hiding behind a few seconds ago.

"It's fun for kids." He replies dismissively and starts swinging his sword again.

"Are you not one?" You ask in surprise, still looking at him. He growls in annoyance and turns towards you, giving you a furious glare as you interrupt him.

"No. I am a man. And men are supposed to fight in battles and train to become stronger."

"Why?" You ask and frown at him, following him as he walks over to the fountain where he left his water and towel. He wipes the beads of sweat from his head, giving you a confused gaze.

"To keep their women and country safe." He replies like it's an obvious thing everyone should know.

"Well... do you have any in danger right now?" This time it's him who furrows his hairless eyebrows at your weird question. He thinks for a moment, observing you, and then shakes his head.

"No."

"Great! Then you can play with us." You say it excitedly and grab his hand. He hisses under your touch, and it's only then that you realise you've grabbed his injured hand. You want to apologise, but his mad glare quickly silences you.

"I already told you that I am not going to play any stupid game, woman!"

"Hey! I am not a woman, I am a girl! And you are a boy, so stop pretending to be an adult and play with us." You respond to his furious growl with your own and shoot him your evil glare. But instead of caring about your outburst and maybe even complying with your demands, he just laughs, making you even angrier.

"I will do whatever I want. You won't order me, little bunny. It doesn't matter how cute you look when you're angry." He mocks you and turns his back on you. You stamp your foot, furious at his behaviour and the fact that he is dismissing you.

"I doubt that sitting all alone is what you prefer." You say, unconsciously hitting his sweet spot. You see him tense as he reaches for his sword. However, his attitude quickly turns indifferent again as he turns his head to glance at you briefly.

"You should go."

"Why?"

"Before anyone notices me with you. Why are you asking so many questions?" He asks irritably, and he starts his training again.

Even though he tries to ignore you, you can see him glancing at you every few moments as you continue to stand there, watching as he swings his sword and cuts through the air.

"Is that yours?" You ask him curiously, sitting on the edge of the fountain.

"Yes. My uncle gave it to me for my 10th birthday." He replies proudly and stops for a moment to talk to you. You smile, staring longingly at the metal blade.

"My gave me dolls. Again. It's so boring." You grumble, keeping your eyes on his weapon. "How do you play with it?"

"I don't play. I train." He replies in annoyance and rolls his eyes at you. But you can see in his eyes that he's not mad at you at all. On the contrary, he wants to continue talking to you. That's why you act more boldly.

"Whatever. How do you train with it? Can you show me?"

"These are not things for a woman." His rejection doesn't dampen your excitement at all. On the contrary, you want to train with him even more, to do something that your mother forbade you to do a long time ago.

"Well, that's a good thing that I am a girl, then. Can you show me? Please? My dad wanted to train me, but my mom didn't agree. She is stupid." You complain, causing him to chuckle. You smile widely, thinking that he looks better when he's cheerful and not with that dark and grim scowl.

"She is. You should know how to protect yourself. Your father won't be fighting for your safety forever. And with that attitude, I doubt you will ever find a husband to protect you."

"Good. I don't want one. Can you show me then?" You ask, ignoring the fact that he's trying to insult you. You look up at him with your beautiful, pleading eyes and stick out your lower lip.

He watches you for a moment, frowning as he feels his heart beat faster when you give him that cute look he simply can't resist. He sighs, barely taking his eyes off of you, and nods.

"Fine. But only if you stay away from me after that."

"Okay." You reply excitedly and nod enthusiastically. He smiles slightly and stands behind you, helping you maintain a good stance with your sword.

"Hold it like that." He says, adjusting your grip on the handle.

"It's so heavy! How can you hold it and move?" You almost collapse under the weight of the sword, but you try to hold it the way he shows you. He laughs huskily, making you smile.

"You can get used to it with time. Now. I will show you some basic movements."

He trains with you and shows you some tricks and moves. And although he was rough and rude towards you at first, over time you both enjoyed each other's company.

You manage to make him laugh a few times, and each time you count it as a small victory considering how grumpy he was. He's obviously extremely fascinated with fighting and seems more than willing to teach you a few things. You think this "training" is fun—at least until you accidentally injure yourself.

"Ouch!" You scream and almost drop his sword. Luckily, he caught it quickly, before you could cut your foot. He furrows his hairless eyebrows and takes your injured hand in his.

"You're as clumsy as you look, little bunny." He mumbles and brings your hand to his mouth.

He licks up your blood like he did with his and tears off a piece of your dress. He wraps the cloth around the wound and looks closely at your hand. You frown, disgusted that he's licking your blood, but you don't move. Well... not until you realise this insult.

"Hey! You hurt yourself a while ago, too. Besides, it's my first time." You are angry at him, pulling your hand away and crossing your arms.

"Because I had an unexpected audience that was talking passionately about me behind my back."

"Oh… I'm sorry. It was mean." You respond contritely, not realising how he must have felt when everyone around him assumed the worst about him and didn't want to be around him.

"I got used to it." He replies in an emotionless tone and looks away from you, almost looking like a beaten dog, even though he tries hard not to show it. And you feel terribly sorry for him.

"You shouldn't. You are cool. When you take the stick out of your ass." You joke, and he chuckles. You smile at him, but his good mood is suddenly interrupted by something. His face turns serious, his muscles tense, and you only hear the growl of some animal before Feyd pushes you behind him.

A large hunting dog runs up to you. He lunges at Feyd, knocking him down. The dog bites him, and Feyd screams in rage. He tries to plunge his sword into the dog's side, but it clamps its jaws on the Feyd's arm, immobilising him.

You gasp in dismay. You reach for a rock and throw it at the dog, trying to distract it. You succeed, but before you can think about what to do next, the dog lunges at you.

You land on your back and use your elbows to get up, but the dog is quickly above you. He growls, foam dripping from his muzzle onto you, and you can only stare in horror into his eyes. You gasp when, just as he is about to sink his teeth into you, Feyd's sword suddenly pierces the dog.

You lie on the ground, unable to move, as you feel the animal's blood dripping onto your dress. Feyd pushes the dog off of you and gives you a worried look.

"Are you hurt?" He asks and offers you his hand. He helps you get back on your feet, looking for any wounds. You shake and shiver as you look at the dead animal. Feyd notices this and places his hand on your cheeks, making you look into his eyes as he turns your back to the animal's body.

He opens his mouth to repeat the question, but freezes when you throw yourself into his arms and hug him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you sob softly. Feyd holds you tentatively and strokes your hair, clumsily trying to calm you down.

"Thank you." You mumble into his neck. He doesn't say anything. He just holds you, letting you cry into him and calm him down. When you finally do, you move away from him. You wipe tears away with the sleeve of your dress, which makes Feyd's heart clench uncomfortably.

He doesn't understand what you're doing to him. He should have felt disgusted by you and been as far away from you as possible. He should have rejected you the moment you threw yourself at him, but... somehow he couldn't deny you this moment of comfort. The mere thought of you seeking comfort from him made his heart flutter a little. And you smelled nice, too. Like ocean. Like Lankiveil. Like home.

You represented everything his uncle wanted him to forget. You were... soft. Too soft. And nice. He should have wanted to hurt you, not comfort you, but all he wanted to do was hold you and protect you from the cruel world.

"Y/N!" Your father's scream reaches you.

The man pulls you further away from Feyd and looks at him warily before his worried gaze shifts to you and your eyes, bloody from crying. A moment later, the Baron and the Emperor join you. The men look at you and the dead dog, frowning.

"My best hunting dog..."

"Feyd-Rautha, what is this about? What have you done?" Her uncle's threatening growl makes Feyd tense. A shiver runs through him, and he opens his mouth to explain himself, but you beat him to it, leaving your father's arms and standing bravely in front of the baron and emperor.

"He saved me."

"What?"

"The dog broke off the leash. It… it would have bitten and torn me if Na-Baron hadn't killed it." The men look at each other, assessing the situation. Feyd watches you carefully, ignoring the surprised, frightened looks from the emperor and your father as you tell them that he killed a nearly three-foot dog.

"I... thank you, Na-Baron. For protecting my daughter." Your father nods to him, but he still has an iron grip on your arm. As if he were afraid that Feyd would turn out to be a worse, more dangerous beast to you than the dog that wanted to bite you to death.

"You're welcome, Viscount Y/L/N." He replies, shifting his gaze from you to your father for a moment.

Your dad is not waiting for the Emperor and the Baron to let you two go. He simply grabs your hand and leads you back to the palace with him. As if he wanted you to be as far away from the Harkonnens as possible.

"You shouldn't let just any dog ​​bite you. You let me down, boy."

You feel sad when you hear his uncle's words. You turn your head, making eye contact with the hairless boy. You give him a small, reassuring smile and wave at him. You see him purse his lips and shift his gaze back to his uncle, who is scolding him. However, he looks much less tense than before.

Unknowingly to you, you gained a secret admirer that day. An admirer who was going to make him the only man who would have the privilege of protecting you and holding you in his arms. He promised himself that this would happen, even if he had to bring hell into the world.

~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

Dearest, gentle readers… did you miss me?

The opening of a new season has never been a more exciting and long-awaited event. The great families were impatiently waiting for more scandals delivered by this year's suitors. And this author is bursting with anticipation for the future events and gossips of this season.

This year, we have several unexpected debuts that this author will be watching very closely. However, I am convinced that the undivided attention of the masses will probably be stolen by the Na-Baron of Giedi Prime, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, who this year decided to take part in the great search for a wife.

Lord, take care of the future Baron's chosen one so that she can live up to the expectations and life among the Harkonnens.

However, this author wishes the Na-Baron all the best on his birthday and believes that we all look forward to the opening of the season on Giedi Prime, especially to his signature fight in the arena, which will be the main part of Na-Baron's birthday celebration.

But we also cannot forget about the stars of the previous season, whose story is not even close to the end yet.

Lady Y/N Y/L/N did not decide to plunge into great mourning after the tragic death of her fiancé, Paul Atreides. Lord Luwael was charmed by the young honourable at the end of the previous season, and Lady Y/N turned out to be not indifferent to his courtship. Surprising? A little bit. Unreasaonbale? Of course not. After all, why stand faithfully by a corpse of a duke when you can stick by the side of a potential Emperor?

But this author is deeply disappointed that we didn't get to hear any wedding bells at the end of the previous season. Maybe these two will surprise us all this year, and we will see a real royal wedding that we haven't been able to witness for ages.

We are all looking forward to the ball in honour of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's birthday, which will be opening this year's season. And this author can't wait to bring all the gossip and scandal to our curious readers. Who knows who will win this great race and have a good match this season?

Happy hunting to all the future brides!

[hyperlexichypatia]

This post reminded me of it, but my partner has observed that in contemporary gender discourse, maleness is so linked to adulthood and femaleness is so linked to childhood, that there are no "boys" or "women," only "men" and "girls."

This isn't exactly new -- for as long as patriarchy has existed, women have been infantilized, and "adult woman" has been treated as something of an oxymoron. Hegemonic beauty standards for women emphasize youthfulness, if not actual neoteny, and older women are considered "too old" to be attractive without ever quite being old enough to make their own decisions. There may be cultural allowances for the occasional older "wise woman," but a "wise woman" is always dangerously close to being a madwoman, or a witch. No matter how wise a woman is, she is never quite a rational agent. As Hanna K put it, "as a woman you're always either too young or too old for things, because the perfect age is when you're a man."

But the framing of underage boys as "men" has shifted, depending on popular conceptualizations of childhood and gender roles. Sometimes children of any gender are essentially feminized and grouped with women (the entire framing of "women and children" as a category). In the U.S. in the 21st century, the rise of men's rights and aggressively sexist ideology has correlated with an increased emphasis on little boys as "men" -- thus slogans like "Teach your son to be a man before his teacher teaches him to be a woman."

Of course, thanks to ageism and patriarchy (which literally means, not "rule by men," but "rule by fathers"), boys don't get any of the social benefits of being considered "men." They don't get to vote, make their own medical decisions, or have any of their own adult rights. They might have a little more childhood freedom than girls, if they're presumed to be sturdier and less vulnerable to "predators," but, for the most part, being considered "men" as young boys doesn't really get boys any more access to adult rights. What it does get them is aggressively gender-policed, often with violence. A little boy being "a man" means that he's not allowed to wear colors, have feelings, or experience the developmental stages of childhood.

This shifts in young adulthood, as boys forced into the role of "manhood" become actual men. As I've written about, I believe the trend of considering young adults "children" is harmful to everyone, but primarily to young women, young queer and trans people, and young disabled people. Abled, cisgender, heterosexual young men are rarely denied the rights and autonomy of adulthood due to "brain maturity."

What's particularly interesting is that, because transphobes misgender trans people as their birth-assigned genders, they constantly frame trans girls as "men" and trans men as "girls." A 10 year old trans girl on her elementary school soccer team is a "MAN using MAN STRENGTH on helpless GIRLS," while a 40 year old trans man is a "Poor confused little girl." Anyone assigned male at birth is born a scary, intimidating adult, while anyone female assigned at birth never becomes old enough to make xyr own decisions.

Feminist responses have also really fluctuated. Occasionally, feminists have played into the idea of little boys as "men," especially in trans-exclusionary rhetoric, or in one notorious case where members of a women's separatist compound were warned about "a man" who turned out to be a 6-month-old infant. There's periodic discourse around "Empowering our girls" or "Raising our boys with gentle masculinity," but for the most part, my problem with mainstream feminist rhetoric in general is that it tends to frame children solely as a labor imposed on women by men, not as subjects (and specifically, as an oppressed class) at all.

Second-wave feminists pushed back hard on calling adult women "girls" -- but they didn't necessarily view "women" as capable of autonomous decision-making, either. Adult women were women, but they might still need to be protected from their own false consciousness. As laws in the U.S., around medical privacy and autonomy, like HIPAA, started more firmly linking the concepts of autonomy with legal adulthood, and fixing the age of majority at 18, third-wave feminists embraced referring to women as "girls." Sometimes this was in an intentionally empowering way ("girl power," "girl boss"), which also served to shield women (mostly white, mostly bourgeois/wealthy) from criticism of their participation in racism and capitalism. But it also served to reinforce the narrative of women as "girls" needing to be protected from "men" (and their own choices).

I'm still hoping for a feminist politic that is pro-child, pro-youth, pro-disability, pro-autonomy, pro-equality, that rejects the infantilization of women, the adultification of boys, the objectification of children, the misgendering of trans people, and the imposition of gender roles.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi! last anon here again. i won't go over all your advice here, and there's some i disagree with, but i have found it helpful and insightful as a whole, so thank you. i don't know if you actually wanted clarification on these things, but i figured it would be worth providing in case you genuinely wanted it.

straps as female disidentification - i do see it as different from other sex aids; it's partially about not imposing man/woman sex dynamics on sex between women, and also that as part of recovering from trans identity i've been encouraged to disengage with any practices, thoughts, or self-beliefs that represent false consciousness/male identification, and that includes a desire to have a penis/penetrate women/take the male role, and replace that with meditation and mindfulness. unfortunately i suck at meditation so i haven't gotten anywhere. i see it more as a behavioural problem than an object problem; it's unhealthy because it's a maladaptive coping mechanism about reality; i don't have a penis and can never have one and pretending i do during intimacy is hurting a theoretical sex partner.

female infantilization - this is about the bush thing; attraction to shaved vulvas is dysfunctional and unnatural.

being put off women's bodies - again this is a dysphoria thing mostly. i like how pretty much all women's bodies look, particularly femmes, and before radfem stuff i mostly just felt horny seeing nude women, but being in an environment that's very focused on the importance of reproductive organs and secondary sex characteristics to female identity has involuntarily caused me to fixate on this; when i see a woman naked i end up thinking about her uterus and the size of her breasts and her hips in relation to passing; i know that things like testosterone/hysterectomies/double masectomies/binding are really unhealthy for you physically and psychologically now, so seeing a woman's body makes me uncomfortable now because i just feel a kind of despair that if she has big breasts or big hips she'll never be able to pass for male without hurting herself and if she has small breasts or hips she got lucky with natural androgyny and she's wasting it, either way neither her or me have any way out of this and we're female forever. which is not very arousing.

once again, thank you for your advice. it's definitely given me a lot to think about (and read). i appreciate you hearing me out.

I'm actually stoked for a response, because these clarifications are very illuminating and genuinely so saddening to read.

that entire paragraph about disavowing the strap is genuinely tragic to me, as an advocate that people should just fuck however they want to fuck. you'd think if womanhood was such an innate and unchangeable thing then a fake dong wouldn't have the power to somehow impose manhood in a relationship between women, but I guess the strap is more powerful than I realized. I would love to know if this applies to fingering, given that you can't really argue that fingers are specific to any gender, or women who use straps to peg their male partners.

being told to meditate instead of want to fuck women is so funny, it's really giving 15th century nunnery.

you may not have been born with a penis but it is just literally a factual reality that you could have on if you wanted; regardless of what radfems think of it, phalloplasty is a very real surgery that can in fact produce a sexually functional penis that many people are extremely satisfied with.

okay sure super normal to fixate on someone's uterus.

I do actually very seriously need to correct this part: testosterone/hysterectomies/double mastectomies/binding are not unhealthy. they're healthcare, and the people who benefit from them - which, reminder, is not only trans people - tend to experience tremendous boosts to their physical and mental health because of it. there's nothing radical at all about opposing people's rights to determine what they do with their own bodies, and between that and the hyperfixation on reproductive organs you sound /this/ close to explaining why women shouldn't be allowed to get abortions.

in the politest way possible if looking at women makes you sad because it reminds you of your own dysphoria, you need to get out of radfem spaces and start hanging with some trans people who can help you figure some stuff out and help you envision a future where you don't fear your own body and sexuality.

[r3starttt]

OBLIVIATE | 00

ellabs x reader | series m.list | > CHAPTER ONE

an: comment to be added to the taglist!

SUMMARY: Amidst the seemingly flawless life, at the peak of the perfection, a looming fear emerges from the very plan that set everything in motion. It shadows you and your wife like a persistent ghost. Memories of youth and a vow to eternal love now cling relentlessly, tempting them to give it another chance.

CW: WIP. +18 content. poly relationship. threesome. sexting. smut encounters. description of sex. modern au. famous au. college au. ex to lovers. time skips.

hockey player! a. rockstar! e. actress! r.

Faded Polaroids lingered between your fingers, each one handled with the utmost delicacy and love.

PROLOGUE

You and Abby had just moved for the third time this year. This entire week had been a blur of sleepless nights spent unpacking. Abby had refused to allow anyone else access to the privacy of your new home, earning frequent scoldings from you, constantly reminding her how things could've been much easier that way.

You only accepted her request because of a very specific person on your mind.

Since your careers took off, neither of you had had a proper chance to settle down. Constantly rushing for interviews and switching roles between trophy wife and fame that left little room for stability.

As you organized the fancy shelfs she bought for the leaving room, Abby found a box filled with memories from her teenage years—music albums, books, and albums she had brought from her home after your marriage, knowing how much you cherished such things.

Taking a break to eat and rest, you both decided to sift through them. You laughed at her old photos, where she looked adorable or, as she called herself, 'nerdy' with her first pair of glasses. Constantly melting at her baby pictures, falling even more in love with the woman before you.

However, the comfort dimmed when you found a particular Polaroid—one you had once begged to take so you would never forget that day. Abby rested her head on your shoulder in the photo, your arms on each side, holding the camera, an auburn girl on your other side.

"What's that?" Abby's voice took you off trance. Your eyes flickered between the Polaroid in your hand and her face, simply leaning the picture to her.

"Guess we mixed them last time" She muttered quietly "Thought you put it here on purpose" a dismissive tone in those words, such a fake acting.

"Nah, I've got a whole box for it" you met her eyes. Your eyebrows furrowing at the tone on her voice, mocking you.

"I've been thinking about her" You handed her another picture, a small dog on Abby's lap. An intent to distract her from the emotions your words might evoke.

"Yeah?" Her hand brushed yours as she took the Polaroid. "What about her?" The couch creaked as she shifted closer to you.

"How's she doing?" you whispered, breaking the silence that kep on growing between both. "You've herd the news." Abby inquired, quite nonchalantly

"I miss her," you admitted. Saying it aloud felt strange, almost wrong- it left a bittersweet taste.

You hoped she would say something, but instead, she was distracted by another Polaroid she handed you seconds later. It was one you had never seen before, there she was, Ellie Williams

-

It all started with what was supposed to be a studying session, for you.

Both of them, well, Ellie had offered to help you with some math things you were having issues with. Abby decided to join 'I don't trust you two alone'

After that day, their need for you became a constant, unwavering presence. If they had been touch-deprived before, yearning for your glance, your kiss, any sign of affection, it only intensified afterward.

They craved your proximity, your touch, your attention, and it was undeniably tempting.

You agreed with both to let it as a sort of open relationship, a friends with benefits arrangement.

Mostly because you knew it would never work if the three of you stood together.

Not with Abby's aspirations and determination to study something to make her dad proud. Ellie, being deeply invested in her studies, aiming for success- hungry. And you who could only wait for that lucky signal, that defining moment to steer you toward your life's purpose—anything to keep you occupied.

Abby constantly showered you with affection and care, feeling a physical need to spoil both of you. She would often send videos or pictures of her sweaty abdomen post-gym session, accompanied by messages asking if either of you needed anything. "Have you eaten yet?"

On the other hand Ellie kept sexting whenever she had the chance, sending you both nudes with the excuse she needed an opinion before sending them to a girl she'd just met. Which wasn't completely fake- it just happened way too often to not be on purpose.

So, why not give it a chance. If it worked, great. If not, well, you'd find a way to make it function as long as you needed it.

> CHAPTER ONE

- taglist: @softlysunrays @eyesfullofsttars <33 | @cowboylu @ennabear @satellitespinner @flowrmoth

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Alt Assistant Pt 4

There are benefits to Lena not being CEO.

For one, she gets to go home at night. She gets to have a life outside work. She gets to go clubbing.

Which Kara only knows because she's standing at a table during Club Velvet's busiest night of the week, watching her boss bump and grind to the music.

She's not alone either. Kara recognizes Andrea, and for brief moment jealousy sparks low and hot in her belly at the thought they might be together. But when it becomes clear that Andrea is focused on a specific man in particular, Kara accepts that they're just here as friends, just like her and Nia.

Lena, for her part, keeps up a steady rotation of dance partners, men and women alike, all outrageously gorgeous and enviably coordinated. Even from her position off the dance floor, Kara can see the sweat clinging to Lena's neck, and feels the phantom feather touch of Lena's swinging ponytail against her skin.

"Holy SHIT," Nia shouts over the music, still barely audible to Kara, let alone others. "Is that Lena?"

Nia has her memories of the previous reality, and Kara knows she's having difficulty reconciling the cozy Lena she knows with the sultry and enigmatic woman currently leaning back against a stranger's chest as her hips move under his hands.

Kara's mouth goes dry. She wants that. She wants to be that man, wants her hands on Lena's hips, her lips brushing Lena's ear.

"Well??" Nia continues, giving Kara a nudge. "Aren't you going to say hi?"

She thinks about it. She *really* thinks about it. About sliding through the throng to grasp Lena's hand and pull her flush against her front, guiding their hips into a tandem rhythm. About burying her hand in Lena's hair and pulling her in to--

Kara shakes her head. "No."

"What? Why not?"

"She's my boss!"

And if her boss knew that Kara was there, ogling her, there'd be hell to pay. She can hear it now-- don't.

At least Nia drops the issue, seemingly accepting that things are different in this reality, as evidenced by the woman continuing to dance along with the beat of the thumping music. Kara manages to go the entire night without bumping into Lena, even if her gaze returns to the dance floor again and again.

It's only until she goes to close out their tab that Kara knows she's in trouble.

"Your tab's already been paid," the bartender informs her.

The message is clear: Lena knows.

Shit.

Kara stuffs a couple bills into the tip jar and makes her escape, anxiety gnawing at her gut. The next day, Lena makes no mention of having seen her, and seems none the worse for wear after her long night. They work in easy rhythm, as Kara keeps to herself and executes her role perfectly.

Right up until Kara enters Lena's office to let her know she's heading out, and finds Lena gazing out the window. The lights in the office are low, and in the glass reflection Kara sees Lena's eyes shift to her, before languidly turning to face her.

"You liked what you saw," Lena says. Not accusation, but simple fact.

"Yes," Kara returns truthfully. She steps closer, emboldened when Lena doesn't protest.

The corner of Lena's mouth lifts. "I'm surprised you'd admit that, after the little diatribe you levied at me your first month here."

"Like I said," Kara reminds her, moving closer still, "I was an idiot."

The way Lena gazes at her sends a shiver up Kara's spine. Green eyes challenge her silently, as though waiting to see just how far she'll go. A small yet confident smile shapes Kara's lips in spite of herself, calming the butterflies in her belly.

She closes what remains of the distance between them, rewarded with a hitch of Lena's breath as Kara crosses the invisible line into her personal space. They're far too close to be professional now, their locked gazes promising exactly where they're headed.

Finally, Kara places one hand on Lena's waist, and lifts the other to brush the backs of her fingers lightly across Lena's smooth, soft cheek. She lets it come to a rest cupping the side of Lena's face, their noses nearly touching.

"Tell me to leave, and I will," Kara offers, giving Lena an out she prays won't be taken.

Lena's hands are already pulling her closer as her response drifts from her lips.

"Don't."

[genderkoolaid]

Intro to Anti-transmasculinity (ATM)

(also ft. an about me section)

Defining ATM:

Anti-transmasculinity refers to the systematic oppression of transmasculinity. “Transmasculinity” refers to the concept of people seen as female having a masculine or manly gender or gender expression*. Other terms used for this are transandrophobia, transmisandry, and transmascphobia.

In 1963, feminist Betty Freidan described misogyny as “the problem with no name,” illustrating how at the time, women’s language to understand, describe and communicate their oppression was underdeveloped. Anti-transmasculinity has been, similarly, a problem with no name; transmasculine people have not had the language or framework to understand, describe, and communicate our oppression. Transmasculinity suffers from erasure, often called “invisibility”. This does not protect transmasculine people from violence; it silences us to prevent us from speaking out against, or realizing, the violence done to us. It alienates us from our history, our brothers, siblings and sisters, and ourselves, by preventing transmasculinity from being seen, heard, discussed, or considered. For more posts of mine and others that help expand on the theory of anti-transmasculinity, see my #theory tag.

*This is not my definition of transmasculinity as an identity. This definition is for the form of transness targeted by transphobia, which is based around the idea of "female/woman trying to be male/a men." My definition of transmasculinity as an identity is any form of masculinity or manhood that is trans* in nature, regardless of presentation or assigned sex. I make this distinction because a GNC man assigned male could see his manhood as trans, but be targeted by transphobia based around the idea of a man trying to be a woman.

Who can be affected by ATM?:

Anyone can suffer from anti-transmasculinity, regardless of gender, sex or sexuality. Anti-transmasculine violence targets perceived transmasculinity, which means anyone perceived as transmasculine can be victimized. That is not the extent of how people are affected, though; people who perceive themselves to be transmasculine, consciously or unconsciously, or who have traits associated with transmasculinity can also be affected by witnessing anti-transmasculinity.

(TW: transphobic murder)

People who are associated with transmasculinity (such as partners, friends, and family of transmasculine people) can also be affected, not just through emotional pain but targeted for physical violence. As an example, Italian cis woman Maria Paola Gaglione was murdered by her brother to "teach her a lesson" after she got engaged to a trans man.

Who can be anti-transmasculine?:

Anyone can be anti-transmasculine, regardless of gender, sex, or sexuality. It is a systemic way of thinking that is spread throughout society and culture, and reproduces itself constantly in people's thoughts and actions.

Who benefits from anti-transmasculinity?:

In the grand scheme of things, everyone suffers from the restrictive nature of transphobia. However, in general, only cisgender, gender-conforming people systematically benefit from anti-transmasculinity. Other trans* people do not; trans* people do not systematically benefit from each other’s oppression.

* *trans is a way of writing “trans” that emphasizes it as a broad umbrella term inclusive of everyone who trangresses gender and sex norms

Is ATM caused by “misandry”?

In transunity theory, “misandry” is used to refer to the way that gender roles around manhood/masculinity are weaponized to harm marginalized people, (in this case) specifically trans* people; trans* people are viewed as having the worst traits of both masculinity and femininity, as well as the inherent negativity associated with androgyny. In this sense, anti-transmasculinity does involve misandry, as do anti-transfeminity* and exorsexism**. However, all of these also involve misogyny and misandrogyny***. Which one of these is more dominant varies between types of transphobia, as well as the individuals doing the violence and the ones experiencing it.

To quote this article, "Misandry [...] can never reliably be prevented from collapsing into transphobia."

*i use anti-transfemininity (ATF) as a companion to anti-transmasculinity, as an alternative to “transmisogyny.” This is because, as I explain, my philosophy on transphobia is that all transphobias are inherently misogynistic and all trans* people experience the intersection of misogyny. Additionally, transunity theory frames transphobia as being the intersection of many forms of gendered bigotry, so using the “anti-” terms lets me talk about these transphobias without having to specify it by only one kind (like -misogyny or -androphobia)

** exorsexism refers to oppression of people who violate the gender or sex binaries; it includes intersexism, but also oppression against non-binary people.

*** misandrogyny is the hatred of/bigotry against androgyny, a companion to misogyny and misandry. “androgyny” here refers to anything outside the exclusive male/female binary; examples of misandrogyny are violence done when someone cannot tell someone’s gender/sex, and the idea of nonbinary and genderqueer language as immature, annoying, and pointless, while binary language is considered mature, normal, and useful.

Evidence of ATM:

I have the tags #examples of transandrophobia and #experiences with transandrophobia; the first is posts showing transandrophobia in action, and the second is people describing the transandrophobia they have experienced or witnessed.

I also keep the Archive of Violence Against Trans*masculine People, which keeps a record of events of anti-transmasculine violence. This includes murder, rape, abuse, physical assault, harassment, and the suicides of transmasculine people. Also on this archive is a list of academic research & writing related to anti-transmasculinity; the studies provide more objective evidence of the systemic oppression transmasculine people face, and analyses which can help with understanding how anti-transmasculinity works.

You can also look at @transandrophobia-archive which collects examples of anti-transmasculine Tumblr posts.

Info on Me:

I’m genderqueer, transsexual, and a transvestite; I am a man and a woman and neither (all of which affect each other), and identify with both transmasc, transfem, and transother. I’m also aromantic + greysexual. My sexuality is everything everywhere all at once.

Originally this blog was just made for me to process and deal with my own internalized anti-transmasculinity, but then people liked what I wrote and now its a place where I talk about queer issues & related things I find important.

I’m multiply disabled (both physically and mentally) and I struggle with answering asks; if I don’t answer you for a while feel free to just send your ask again, I will not mind. Also feel free to ask me to explain anything in plain language if you have difficulty understanding something. I don’t mind educating people or helping people find resources, as long as you are respectful and are in good faith and all that.

I am going into philosophy and sociology with a focus on religion, and run @transtheology where I collect posts on trans-affirming spirituality and religion. If you have any questions or want advice related to transness and spirituality/religion (or madness & spirituality/religion) I’d love to help you the best I can.

If you would like to support me, here’s my kofi

Further Resources:

""Transandrophobia" Primer" by nothorses

"As a transfem, what's your insight on the way transmascs are treated when talking about their experiences?" by cipheramnesia

"This is just your regular free-of-charge reminder that when people argue that transandrophobia does not exist, or that its not important enough to talk about, they are explicitly saying they don't care about sexual assault victims or victims of suicide (among other things)" by nothorses

"Transandrophobia Posts Masterpost- 2022" by transgentlemanluke

Pinned post with links to discussions about transandrophobia, baeddelism, and other issues by nothorses

"What is transandophobia actually?" by transmasc-pirate, with additions by doberbutts and psychoticallytrans

"Transandrophobic Fundamentals and the Intersections of Trans Masc Marginalization" by none-gender-left-man

"Hello, I apologise if you've already received questions like this, but can you explain why you would say that transmisandry/androphobia is distinct from misogyny?" by transfaguette

"I Am A Transwoman. I Am In The Closet. I Am Not Coming Out." by Jennifer Coates

This conversation between doberbutts and folly-of-alexandria

Transandrophobia Explained carrd, by myself

Transmisogyny is not the intersection of transphobia and misogyny by luckyladylily

This post on misogyny, misandry, and transandrophobia by thorne1345

"tumblr can make fun of Blizzard’s Oppression Calculator all they want, that’s exactly how people act with discourse poisoned queer discussions" by cardentist

Invisible Men: FTMs and Homelessness in Toronto by the FTM Safer Shelter Project Research Team

On Hating Men (And Becoming One) by Noah Zazanis

There is a hidden epidemic of violence against transmasculine people by Orion Rodriguez

“Irl we just kiss”: ‘transmasc vs transfem’ discourse & reactionary ‘boys vs girls’ politics in trans spaces by S.L Void

Making Sense Out of the Murders of Trans Men by Mitch Kellaway

Collateral Damage: mathematical odds & the sum of survival. by S.L Void

Op-ed: Trans Men Experience Far More Violence Than Most People Assume by Loree Cook-Daniels

How the Criminalization of Testosterone Attacks Gender Variant People by Adryan Corcione

A Tale of a Trans Man in Pakistan by Ikra Javed

Not transmasc invisibility, but erasure: intricacies of transmasc invisibility, and the fallacies of strictly gendered transphobia by S.L Void

Girlboy Boygirl Blues: antitransmasculinity as a denial of individual history & more by S.L Void

The r/transandrophobia subreddit

[wroteclassicaly]

Bby let's muse over Steve Harringtons ass.

Warnings: Language, smut, anal play, anal fingering, ass eating, anal sex, spanking, submissive Steve, dominant Reader, and NSFW.

~*~

There’s many things that you can say about Steve Harrington. He has great hair, he has a constellation of beauty marks that even dot into his ears, his cock is the unidentified monster of Hawkins, his hands can be used as a human shield, he fights for his friends until the death, he’s loyal, he’s sweet, he’s smart, he’s beautiful, he kisses as if it’s his last day on earth… You can go on, really.

But then… there is also a rather, specific trait about him that’s undeniable. A physical presence that has turned heads of even claimed straight men. It doesn’t matter what he wears, whether it’s swimming trunks, sleep pants, sweats, or those sinful little Levi’s that belong in a museum — it is always on display, front and center. There is no getting past it, zero capabilities to deny it. Steve Harrington has a fat ass.

A perky, shapely, cheekily cut, juicy, bite-able, fuck-able, slap-able — deliciously sinful… ass.

You didn’t start out as his girlfriend, no. Just his best-friend, one that had agreed to benefits, before things became too vulnerable to ignore. And the more open emotions were, the more open things in the bedroom became. Steve was only alright trying new things with you, and the opportunity wasn’t wasted. So you’d showed him with a very targeted rental from the store, assuring that you’d checked in out by yourself under a fake name.

The woman had been taking her scene partner in several stages. First with her hands on his ass, slapping until it reddened, almost resembling a blossoming bruise. Secondly, prepping him with a finger. Thirdly, her face had been buried between his sore cheeks. And the finale, you had to help Steve take off his jeans, pulling his cock out for him as she accustomed to the harness, taking him in wild ways that Steve had taken you.

“Do you like what she’s doing to him?” You spoke into his ear, kissing at that one freckle inside, your fingers wrapping around his cock, thumb stroking off the pre from the head.

“Yeah…” his voice was choked, so low and raspy that it sounded as if his vocal cords had been drenched with molten lava. “What does it feel like?”

He couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, hues of blue and orange from the television set reflecting off his blown pupils.

“You want me to do it to you, Steve? Guys have a spot, just like girls do.”

“You mean my prostate, right? I know it’s a place… inside me… there. Is that it?”

You brushed his hair off his already slicked forehead. “That’s right, baby. Right in between your legs, buried deep inside of that tight, unused hole.”

He trembled impossibly, and that is when things got started.

~*~

Steve loves spankings when he’s over work and just needs to unwind. How your hands can make it hard for him to sit, to focus on anything that isn’t you. The way you grab him, pull him apart to observe like he’s on display over your lap.

Steve adores when you just grab him after a shower, through his towel or jeans, giving his ass a little lift or smack. Just staking your claim, feeling him up.

Steve will admit to calling you up several times a day, just so he can ride your fingers in the bathroom or stock room at work, addicted to watching his cock kick and drain all over the floor. He’s already been able to touch himself, but it still isn’t the same as you.

Steve isn’t able to process what happens when you split him open and bury your face in his backside, not permitting him to touch himself (unless you feel giving). You eat him the way that he eats your cunt — animalistic, with one goal. Letting him fuck his opening onto your tongue.

Steve can attest to his eyes crossing several times, upon seeing you in your harness, the shivering trepidation as he props his head on his bicep and strokes himself off at the sight off your dripping pussy as you adjust to the toy. He’ll help you step in on occasion. And the many positions. Depending on what the other needs, you will take him on his side, in front of a mirror so he can see how perfectly beautiful that he is, soft on his back for closeness as you go chest to chest, deeply on his stomach with a taught arch and sweet little pleas from his gifted little mouth, hard from behind, hand on his hair (sometimes in public, even at work. you have become addicted to watching him squirm after, knowing he’s gonna fuck you that much harder for getting him in that state), legs on your shoulders or around your waist, him riding you against the headboard or whatever surface you can find (even in his car), bouncing on top of you and riding you, his hands on your tits for purchase, cock leaking all over your stomach, balls wet with the arousal that has leaked across your thighs — any and everything that you can think of.

It’s safe to say, you’re in love with Steve Harrington’s ass. And will forever worship, remaining eternally faithful to its perfection.

[3liza]

saw someone talking about "scary dog privilege" on here today and cant find the post again but i guess it refers to when women are bothered less in public when accompanied by a large dog, and bypassing the quibble i have with calling that a privilege, i can absolutely 100% confirm it is true.

i was approached by a 30s-40s single white man wearing the Dipshit Uniform (guy in a baseball cap who looks like he drives an f-150 and has voting opinions i would not agree with) on the street the other day and all he had to talk about was Churchgrim. that he was VERY large, looked like a good boy, obedient, what breed is he, etc. this is the only interaction i get from men in public anymore unless i do not have the dog with me, at which point it goes back to the usual bullshit. however it has to be an actual scary-looking dog and you have to visibly have control of it. this is not why i got a large dog, it's just a side benefit. it probably has a lot to do with the masculine cultural coding of any large dog breed that isnt a poodle or a sight hound more than it does the actual violence potential of the dog, but those two things are related. notably, not a SINGLE man has tried to mansplain dog care or handling to me for five years. not one. i cant explain this because its not like being visible capable at a task or skill will stop them in any other circumstance, including when you are holding a literal firearm.

i remember reading some stupid op-ed from some idiot woman who got a dog "for protection" on her jogs and was baffled when men were not intimidated by her golden fucking retriever (although they should have been; goldens bite a lot, statistically, probably explicitly because people do not take them seriously)

the fact that men's body language and tone of voice has changed so drastically from before when i had a 90lbs black shepherd mix standing next to me is pretty damning tbh. all people both intentionally and unintentionally modulate their communication styles around that type of dog to display respect, interest, or fear, experienced dog people can be identified instantly by their comfort and confidence with the dog, and people with dog phobia are the opposite. the dog instinctively puts himself between me and approaching strangers, probably not out of a defensive instinct in grim's case but because strangers are interesting and he wants to be closer to the object of interest, but the physical barrier this creates is a great benefit to me.

specifically, men talk to me much much much more like they are speaking to another man when the dog is there. part of that is men are often genuinely interested in knowing information about a large dog of grim's type and are not using the dog as an excuse to flirt with or harass me. grim has a phenotype that is familiar to certain experiences within the united states as a "porch dog" or "yard dog" or "farm dog" that everyone who has lived in rural areas has usually known or owned a few notable examples of, and thats a general class of dog that tends to be good at listening and responding to humans and has a lot of opportunities to display intelligence or good judgment, so people with rural experience tend to associate him with good memories. he's also "handsome" in the dog sense because he got to keep his balls until he was 3, on the advice of his vet, and as a result he developed nice-looking musculature and a big thick neck which you dont get on city dogs much. he gets a lot of positive attention from older ladies as well, who you'd think would be afraid of being knocked over, but who are always just besotted with him for reasons i havent quite figured out yet. maybe they like seeing a youngish woman with a dog like this, i know that i feel good and happy when i see younger women and girls in situations where they seem safe or protected to me. i think to myself, "i don't have to worry about her" and i feel relief. observing young women and girls often triggers anxiety for women who are even just a few years older than they are, out of pure empathy. its one reason it's so important to be kind to younger people than you are.

anyway it's damning to the men because of course men don't think rationally that the dog would understand and be offended or angry if they sexually harassed or disrespected me. but they are still on their best behavior because the dog is an implicit threat that i can defend myself. and perhaps not only did they have nothing real to discuss with me before now because they assumed we had nothing in common and that i was an idiot or not human, but they are watching themselves carefully to only express normal human civility. i dont get that from random men without the dog. mostly (not entirely but mostly) i get either casual disrespect/disregard, or outright sexual harassment. when i was younger and less experienced with men and had fewer cycles of these interactions, i was completely unaware of how disrespectful these approaches or comments were, which is the interpretation i can see less-experienced women making now, even if they're my age. and when i was 20, my 30 year old friends seemed pathologically misandrist and defensive to me. it was purely the difference in our actual mileage. that sucks man. wish we could just be normal around people and not have to expect the worst constantly.

anyway, good dog

[bloop-bl00p]

My issue with the Hellaverse rulers

We all know the story of Lucifer causing a war in Heaven due to his hatred of mankind, losing and taking a quarter of the angels with him. Those Fallen Angels became the rulers of Hell, essentially torturing the sinners and going to Earth to tempt us or just chill out and give us math lessons (I’m not joking, some do when summoned.) Not in Viv’s Hell though, they were no war so where do the other demons come from? How did these demons manage to harvest such great powers, powers that can give them access to Earth and outrank the lower class? You can theorize that the Seven Deadly Sins were born from the sin of humans or some shit but that’s headcannon territory and this does not explain what created the Goetia. Are we supposed to believe that the second Lucifer and Lilith fell everyone was there to greet them with flowers and a little flag saying “Congratulations! You fucked up but you get a new kingdom!”

Talking about the Goetia…

How exactly do they work here? The Arc Goetia is listed in a book known as the Lesser Keys of Solomon. Their section contains detailed information about 72 demons and how to summon them, these demons were Fallen Angels. A random King named Solomon who appeared to be a master of witchcraft received a ring from an angel that gave him authority over demons and he used them to build temples.

And then you have the Helluva Boss version, with a Stolas born in Hell, who is at least 35. Why do they even exist in this world? The whole thing with the Goetia is that they were demons at the service of King Solomon around 970 to 931 BCE.

You also have those characters who are classified as such but those do not appear in the book like Stella who’s Andrealphus’s sister and who are their parents you ask? Figure it out. But fair enough maybe they do something that is specific to them like I don’t know:

[Context: Stolas wanted Blizø to kill said a candidate who was causing trouble for his associate.]

Ah! So the Goetia mission is essentially to make life worse on Earth using lower species like imps to do their binding. I would have hoped but… it’s a screenshot from the pilots which isn’t canon anymore. And til now, we have no indication that this is what the Goetia does in the cannon.

Stolas is immortal why does he need to have a child? Maybe it’s for other Goetia duties that will never be addressed in the shows but he’s the only character who is visibly shown to be forced into a marriage. Paimon clearly doesn't care if you are gay, asexual, or whatever if he wants you to make a baby you will make a baby. So naturally Andrealphus will have a wife, right? He’s only a duke and his sister got married to a Prince seemingly to alleviate their family so shouldn’t he marry a Princess or something like that, his parents would certainly pressure him to do so. And since Stolas needs an heir despite being immortal, wouldn’t he need one too?

[Context: God the inconsistency's gonna kill me. This is Stella’s party in ep1 of season 2 and you can see two men dancing together.]

Stolas could have been openly gay since the beginning, so what prevented him from divorcing Stella the second Octavia was born? The girl would have been too young to remember her mother and if she asked questions he could have just explained to her that Stella wasn’t a good person.

“But he played along so she could have a normal childhood.”

That would have been a great excuse if Stella did the same thing.

This woman literally threw their butler at her husband the second she learned he cheated on her with an imps not caring that her daughter was there! Stella is quick to anger and will most likely choose physical violence when she’s upset. How did Stolas though that THIS was a normal childhood for Via?!! And it’s not like he was trapped in the marriage they divorced quite easily… wait a minute…

Does Viv even understand the concept of arranged marriages?! Usually, both families benefit from the union (financially, religiously, and other), but few result in divorce due to the massive social pressure caused by the two families and the constant control and influence the parents have on their children. Realistically speaking, Paimon would have threatened Stolas for trying to leave Stella because there’s no way he married his immortal son just to get a new kid in the family.

Yet, it still happened without any complication and Stella left his castle. So where’s Octavia?! She’s his heir! He’s supposed to learn her fairy dust and star magic or some shit, he should automatically get full custody of the child! We don't even know what the girl's relationship with her mother is but considering Stella is framed as a psychopath, I wouldn't want my kid to stay with her EVEN for vacation, Octavia is 17 she saw her mother throwing a tantrum once I think she’ll understand why her father doesn't want her near Stella.

[bouquetface]

PAC: What’s the tea on him/her?

Keep in mind: Not every pac you come across will be for you. Take it as entertainment.

Photos are completely random have nothing to do w the content.

1-2

1.

THINGS THAT MAY BE SIGNIFICANT: CAP. AQUA. JACK HARLOW - AMBITIOUS.

This person is well known. They could be a social person. They could have a big following. It seems this person has reluctantly left a situation.

They felt you or this situation showed little effort or interest. Potentially, you work with them or they’ve decided to focus on work. They may have communicated this to you like “I’m focused on school/work right now” “I’m really busy right now” “I can’t right now”.

Yet, there is a 3rd person involved here. I’m not saying they’re a complete liar. They are focused on materialistic matters over relationships right now. That doesn’t mean they aren’t casually flirting/entertaining other options. This person could be attractive or social n flirty asf. It may come as no surprise they have other options. Whether this person is a man or woman, they have a female friend.

I’m unsure what your connection is to this person. It seems you have little to no contact with them right now. As I said earlier, this reading began with an ending type of energy. Someone cut ties with a friend or lover. They could have left a job and not a relationship too. They felt it showed little or no room for advancement.

They’ve ended something and now they’ve moved forward. Sorry pile 1 idk what you were expecting but I’m not picking up any serious tea/gossip.

You could be asking about a crush. If this is the case, they’ve left a relationship or job. Now, casually opening themselves up to new people.

If you’re asking about an ex friend or lover, they’re moving on. This where I strongly feel they’re getting close with a female friend. Regardless of your person’s gender, they are hanging out with this woman. She seems signifiant so I thought I’d mention her. This likely means something to someone specific.

Also, I keep getting the thought that a lot of you are thinking about a famous person. One of you or many of you are thinking about a celeb crush for this reading. If this is the case, they’ve ended a project or relationship. They’re fine and just living their life.

2.

THINGS THAT MAY BE SIGNIFICANT:

SCORPIO. LEO. PLAYBOI CARTI (i have only 4 songs of his in my Liked Songs. all 4 played on shuffle during this pile).

This person is currently very inconsistent in their moods. They go in and out of people’s lives. Very inconsiderate of other people’s time and energy.

“They’re too old to be acting this way” - The tea on this person is they’re immature. People are fed up with them. Coworkers, friends, family, love interests.

It could be due to external factors. School or work has put a lot of stress on them. For someone specific, this person could even be dealing with something very serious. A pet or friend could have died. As a result, they’re in chaotic energy right now. Sometimes they’re feeling fine, other times they’re wanting to disappear.

They are not someone who is being open with their feelings. As a result, other people are giving them a lot of shit. People don’t know what’s going on with them. They’re getting to a point where they don’t even care.

“[Person’s name] never gives a shit about anybody else’s feelings, why should I give a shit about theirs?” - This is the kind of thoughts people are having about this person.

I want to give them the benefit of the doubt. It seems they could be going through something and have potential to do better. But it seems their recent actions have disappointed/irritated those around them.

They could possibly be cancelling plans all the time. Never showing up or showing up very late. If this is work related, it’s likely they’ve been given a warning. If it’s friend related, seems their own friends just don’t want to invite this person out anymore. What’s the point they never show up anyways?

They’re also very secretive. They may lying to some people. They could have literally stolen something. Once again, this person is being very inconsiderate and selfish. They aren’t focused on anybody but themselves. But with all this self sabotage behaviour, they’re barely taking care of themselves. If they’ve cut you out, know you’re likely not the only one who got cut out. That’s the tea on them.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

here's a wild one for y'all. cw for parental death. names have been changed, it is a kinda specific situation but I think only 1 of my family members is on Tumblr so whatever. sorry it got so long, it's a complicated situation and still VERY fresh so my brain is kinda fried lol.

tldr my dad passed away without a will and we want to give his long-distance "side" gf the house he helped her buy. I'm worried she won't be able to afford the mortgage, but don't really want to give her any of the monetary payouts. WIBTA if my brothers and I kept all of the cash?

so late last week (it's Dec 19 as of submitting) my father (60s M) passed away in a sudden car accident on his way to work. I'm (late 20s ftM) his oldest child, I also have a younger brother (mid 20s M) who we'll call Phineas and an even younger half-brother (almost tween, M) who we'll call Aaron.

so I'd describe my dad as a kind and loving but stubborn and stupid man. I would also guess, based on what I know of his love life, that he was polyamorous but didn't realize it due to his conservative Christian upbringing and didn't know it was an option so instead ended up being...well, kinda an adulterer tbh. this isn't to excuse his actual actions bc they were obviously wrong, but is the way the situation reads to me, a polyamorous person.

Dad had a long distance girlfriend (50s??? maybe??? F) on the West Coast (we live near the East Coast), we'll call her Melody. I met her a few years back when he flew Phineas and I with him to visit her. she's a sweet woman from what I know of her. when I got the news of his passing, I was the one who called her to let her know what happened. (which sucked.)

well, what I Didn't know until I was trying to scrape together travel arrangements (I live 5 hours away from Phineas and my dad) was that he also had a Wife (60sF), who we'll call Patricia. (it wasn't a legal marriage, it was "in the eyes of the Lord" as they said, due to legal complications to do with her social security benefits or something. which is why the arrangements for his death fell onto Phineas and I as his adult children. but if he called her his wife then as far as I'm concerned that's what she is.) he didn't really tell me or Phineas about the full nature of their relationship. Phineas found out bc our dad was spending so much time with her that he'd practically moved in w her, put two and two together and asked her to confirm. I never even knew she existed till all this happened. he had told his parents and siblings about her, and they approved of her. we can only speculate why he kept it so quiet to us, she thinks bc of his history with Real Duds that we'd be upset somehow. idk.

so anyway Patricia knew about Melody. my dad was already seeing Melody when he started seeing Patricia. I don't know what he was thinking when he got with Patricia tbh, can't ask him now anyway, but she knew about Melody the whole time. wasn't thrilled about it, constantly told him he needed to tell her the truth and end things, but doesn't truly hold that against Melody herself bc she didn't know.

Melody, however, did not know about Patricia. he was planning to tell her at some point. kept meaning to. still loved her, didn't wanna hurt her, but was also trying to be monogamously committed to Patricia too. he never got around to actually ending things with Melody before he passed, and as far as she knew he was still planning to move out there and get married to her. he even took out a loan to help her pay for her late mother's house, both their names are on the mortgage and deed.

which brings me to my question. my dad didn't seem to have a will (not that we can find anyway), so Phineas and I are the ones in charge of distributing his various belongings and payouts and such. we both agree that we don't have any use for some house across the country, and Melody is already living in it anyway. imo she should just Have It. however, she is also Pretty Poor. I don't know the specifics of her situation (or, really, much about the complications of home ownership?) but I do worry about her ability to continue to pay the mortgage, assuming that's a thing. we're still waiting to hear about all the details and numbers and have somebody who actually knows about that stuff translate it into layman's terms for us non-homeowners (or in Phineas's case, Brand New Homeowner) so we can get a full picture of how all that is going to work legally speaking.

Dad also had life insurance thru his employer. we are still working thru the red tape at his company to figure out who the beneficiary is, the most likely candidate being me as the eldest child. Phineas and I are agreed that we'll at least be splitting most, if not all, the money evenly between us and Aaron. Patricia is INSISTENT that she doesn't want any of it, she wants us kids to keep it bc unlike some of his exes she never cared about his money (he made GOOD money, but still ended up kinda poor due to both being generous to, and having been taken advantage of by, multiple women since my bio mom died. including having to shell out an insane amount of child support for Aaron despite already having a very active role in his life. like he paid more child support than either I or my fiancee even make at our jobs, while also frequently just straight up directly providing for him where he could). because of his income it's looking like a pretty hefty payout.

however, my brother and I are both pretty poor as well. while we don't know the exact amount we're getting, some are speculating a number that, even split 3 ways, would be Life-Changing for us. we're talking 5 figure amounts, more than I or my fiancee make in a year. like we'll still need to work for a living but, for example, it could be a down-payment on a house or a massive safety net for when I'm out of work (I have a steady job but with seasonal unpaid breaks). it could help Phineas afford expensive repairs for the trailer he now owns, which my dad was supposed to help pay for. in the right account with a decent interest rate, it could be tuition for when Aaron goes to college.

I feel like I Should probably toss some of that money Melody's way, esp since I feel so bad that she's getting the one-two punch of finding out her bf died AND also he had a wife she wasn't aware of. but my brothers and I could really use that money as well. I don't know that Phineas wants to send her any, we're saving that conversation for when we know more of the exact numbers. I don't even know how much Dad was paying towards it, or if he even was anymore. plus--and this is kinda a minor detail--but there's kind of a general vibe I'm getting from the Family (ALL 4 of my dad's siblings AND both his parents are somehow still alive) that Melody is kinda...unliked. they love Patricia and were CONSTANTLY frustrated that he was still visiting Melody and frequently sending her money; I get the feeling they viewed her the same as some of his other gold-digging exes so i think maybe sending her Even More Money would look a little weird? like she's already getting full ownership of a house out of the deal. most of them are in agreement that Phineas and I are the ones who get the final say on the bulk of these decisions but they're...a little pushy anyway.

like I said, we don't know what any of the actual numbers look like AT ALL yet, so it might actually be fine. but WIBTA if we just left her the sole homeowner when she couldn't really afford it, and not send her any money? the consensus will probably show up too late to affect our decision but hey, figured the situation would make for a wild ride anyway (or maybe I just feel like that bc it has been for me LOL).

What are these acronyms?

[witchwyfe]

lost in the fire - jhs

I pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x female reader

I précis: you get jealous of your fwb!

I content/warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of almost-drunkenness, language, kissing, allusions to sex, friends with benefits

I word count: 969

There's a pit in your stomach when you see Jake talking to another girl. You don't even know why you agreed to come out with your shared friend group, you're tired from a long week and now pissy because Jake isn't paying you any attention.

She’s pretty, with blond hair and green eyes, a manicured hand dancing up his arm. He laughs at something she says and you grind your teeth, jaw clenched uncomfortably. 

Mickey thought it would be fun to go to club, rather than the usual hangout at the Hard Deck, and everyone else was on board.

Jake's out of uniform tonight, in a satin-y black shirt and well-fitting jeans. You're dying to run your hands down his chest, before yanking his clothes off, but you've kept your distance this evening. You're irritated that he's been avoiding you, even though you specifically told him you didn't want any of your friends to know about your arrangement.

You met Natasha at a hot yoga class and you two became quick friends. Once the two of you were close enough, she introduced you to her squadron. Not even a few hours after she brought you to the Hard Deck and introduced you to all her friends/coworkers, you'd hooked up with Jake in the bathroom. Even though you swore it wouldn’t happen again, it did, a lot.

So it became a regular thing, that you conveniently didn't mention to everyone else. A good old fashioned friends with benefits. He didn’t seem the type to be in a relationship and you weren’t looking for anything serious. 

Problem is, both of you get jealous but neither of you will admit it, or ask for something more.

You take the tequila shot that Natasha slides in front of you, reveling in the burn down your throat. You're one shot past fun, buzzy, tipsy, and entering a pouty, crabby tipsy. You want nothing more to sit at the high top table, with your arms crossed and bottom lip popped out until Jake comes and gives you some attention, but instead you force a smile, and pull Natasha out to dance.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake has had an eye on you all night, and know that you've moved to dance, closer to his perch at the bar, his gaze is locked on your form.

The tight dress you have on accentuates your form and Jake almost wipes drool from his mouth when he see's you dancing against Natasha. Your ass rolls against her front, her hands loosely on your hips. You’re both giggling, your head thrown back against her shoulder. 

Song after song, you dance with Natasha, until you feel like you can no longer stand up on your own, feet aching in your heels. You wobble over to the table, simultaneously jealous and in awe of the way Natasha seems to gracefully strut to the table, even after four tequila shots.

Jake is back at the table, he must’ve lost the woman he was talking to, because she’s nowhere to be found. You’re still sporting a frown though, facial muscles taut. Jake is studying you carefully, but you don’t even notice, reaching for Natasha to ask for another shot.

“Why don’t I get you some water, sweetheart?” He cuts in, hand reaching for you. You step away from his hand, face pulling into a scowl, but following in his direction nevertheless. His hand hovers over your lower back, not actually touching you, but you can still feel the heat from his appendage. 

“I missed you.” He says quietly, once you’re far enough from the table.

You snort, giving him a cold look. “Could’ve fooled me.”

His brows furrow, a pout that you would find cute any other time, tracing his lips. “I don’t understand, I thought we weren’t telling anyone?”

You roll your eyes with a huff, crossing your arms. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Jake.” 

“Then, please, enlighten me, darlin’,” He whines, not a trace of sarcasm in his tone. 

You sigh heavily. “If you missed me so much, like you said, then why were you talking to other girls?” You wonder, eyes narrowed.

“Baby, are you kidding me?!” He exclaims, ignoring the sharp look you give him—whether its from the baby or his volume level, he doesn’t know. “My favorite girl was ignoring me, I—“

“No Jake, I’m not ‘kidding you’.” You snap, abruptly cutting him off. “What the hell am I supposed to think? You spend the whole night, not speaking to me, but you’re fine with talking blondie’s ear off all night? I wasn’t ignoring you, I’m trying not to make it obvious to our friends that we’re sleeping together, but you could at least acknowledge me!”

“Are you jealous?” He blurts, he can’t help the bubble of laughter that escapes him, even when he thinks he see’s smoke come out of your ears.

“Shut the fuck up.” You hiss.

“No need to be jealous baby,” He sidles right up to you. “You’re the one I’m goin’ home with, pretty girl.”

“Well she doesn’t know that.” You grumble.

“You’re the only that needs to know it.” He rasps, calloused palms sliding gently over your cheeks, before warm lips land on yours. 

His tongue is practically down your throat when you finally push him off, feigning an appalled expression. Your cheeks warm under his gaze, but you also can’t deny how good it feels to be the only person he’s looking at right now. 

“Take me home then.” You dare, locking your eyes on his. 

“Gladly.” He smirks, sliding his arm around your shoulders. He walks you both by your group, dropping enough cash on the table, to cover all of your drinks, before leading you outside.

If your friends didn’t know before, they definitely do now. 

© witchwyfe 2023. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

[marytvirgin]

I like my whiskey the way I like my men

- John Price x f!Reader (Death)

Reader have tatoos... Lots of them.

I'm thinking of using this as a plot for a fic. Tell me what you think.

Be added to the Tag List!

PART TWO!

You didn't expect your night to be like this. But oh boy, this is better than you expected.

Tight black dress with thin straps with an opening on the right thigh that almost shows the strap of your black panties. Loose hair around the face, silver earrings on the ears and dog tags hanging between the neckline of the breasts. High-hein boots stiletto. Bare arms revealing the skin covered in black and white tattoos, some specific spots colored in red – patterns of roses, knives and guns cover the entire length of both arms.  On your back, the large "La Muerte" tattoo appeared through the neckline of the dress.

And this type of clothing, which shows so much of what makes you you are not ideal to be close to a superior. But how were you supposed to know he'd be there just that night?

Captain Price.

A living legend.

You didn't notice him at the bar, too distracted by your companions of the night. All old army friends, gathered at a table in the centre of the bar. At this point, some men had already approached your desk trying their luck with any of you. You laughed while listening to them. Beautiful boys, but too young for your preference.

You like those who wouldn't piss you off for minimal and childish things, those who knew how to deal with women, really deal with instead of just trying to wet their dicks. The guy who'd go down on a woman and make her legs tremble; fuck your brain. Yes, that's your type.

And usually that means older men.

"Girl!" Your friend, Dani, poked you with a suspicious smile. "There's a man here who's very much your type!"

"Where?" You asked, smiling too.

Dani was that one type of friend who almost a hundred percent of the time showed you the guys you'd spend one or even a few more nights with. She knew you well enough and seemed to have a radar for good fucks. A sixth sense that benefited you – a lot.

"On your six. He's with some beautiful friends too. You must take a look!"

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. Uh-oh. I'm sure you'll climb him like a fucking spider monkey. "

Shaking your head, you laughed. But the laugh died in your glass when you turned to look.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Sitting two tables behind yours was a group of four men. With his back to you was what appeared to be a mountain of muscles, the hood of the sweatshirt pulled over your head. Next to him was another strong man, fair skin and a mohawk on top of his head – this one was smiling. The other man was the smallest on the table, but still strong. This one has black skin, low cut hair and an extremely fun smile dancing on his lips – as if enjoying an inside joke with the mohawk guy.  All extremely familiar to your taste.

But it was the last man you noticed that made you choke on your drink and turn to your friend, your eyes wide while coughing.

He's big, the second largest on the table. Well-combed brown hair, soft beard spread across his face, bright blue eyes, medium lips. The leather jacket makes him look even bigger. Lord, you still remember the serious and soft voice he has.

Dani is right, you could really climb Price – if he let you.

"Fuck!"

"Girl, what-"

"That's Captain Price!" Your voice came out half-shouted, half-whispered.  "He leads the task force 141!"  Dani eyes go wide as she recognized the name.  "That's 141!"

You've been on the field with Captain Price before, the man is a force of nature when leading. You had saved Price two years ago in your first deployment with him, and then worked as the man two more times. Not only that, but you know the big man too, even if you can only see his back. He is Lieutenant Ghost; you had been deployed to him in Al Mazrah three months earlier. Extremely confidential mission, hand-picked team. And he had picked you.

Those are two of the men who had your respect to the maximum level.

"The captain?

"Himself!"

"Oh… "

Wait… oh Lord.

"Were you talking about him?!”

"I think so. Can you judge me?  He's your type." She smiled as her eyes were wide-eyed. "Why don't you go there? Say hi, ask him how he's doing..."

"Are you going crazy?!".

"Whoa, I don't see the problem.  With all this desperation, it seems like you have a crush on the man… "

You do, but she doesn't need to know that - she already knows, probably. This bitch.

"Dani, he was my captain in three deployments! Not to mention the lieutenant! The man can kill me if I bother him, really! " Ghost is not at all bad, just silent, focused, not so funny.  Fucking dangerous.

Dani frowned and stared at you for a moment.  You took it as a victory for her to drop the subject.

"In addition, our field of operation is the same. Both of us are SAS. That would go against the rules of our book.”

 It's a shame.

A smile opened on Dani's lips, not the kind you like. "I dare you to go there and buy a drink for the captain. In front of him, so he knows it's you."

May God kill you now.

There it was. The word "dare" moved you.  You have a problem not knowing how to lose or not proving that you were capable of something. She knows that. Your weakness. You've almost been arrested because of this before, got yourself into so much trouble in your recruiting time because of dares. But...

You think that if you defied death so many times that you've come to the point of being compared to it, you've even won the callsign Death...

You can do that.

"You are a cunt! Challenge accepted. "

Dani's laugh was too high for your taste, attracted looks you didn't want. Drinking your other friend's tequila shot, you got up and started walking to the table of 141. One by one, the men at the table have put their attention on you – it's not their fault, your clothes and tattoos make it very difficult to ignore you.

Fuck, you can't do that!

"Sergeant Death, some time without seeing you." Price greeted you as soon as you got to the table.

"Captain." You nodded lightly. "I've been busy. You know, Laswell loves me." Price opened a smile and pulled the chair free from the table for you to sit on. "Lieutenant Ghost." You waved to the man a little more serious.  "Boys." The other two at the table waved, looking shocked.

"To what do I owe the honor?" Price asked, arching one of the eyebrows. Eyes gleaming in the dim lights of the bar.

God.

Help.

"A dare." You said before you could hold it. Better be honest.

"What was the dare?" Price asked, leaning his elbows on the table, leaning slightly towards you.

Oh. That move, you've had guys do it before. Same look, same inclination. God help you not to be misunderstanding the situation.

His left eyebrow rose slightly. The man's movement made a wave of confidence spread through you, a predatory smile opening on your red-painted lips revealing pearly white teeth. Your eyes moved across the table briefly taking in the reactions – all but the lieutenant had a slight glow of surprise in his eyes.

"Buy you a drink and make it clear that I did it."

"Damn it. She really went to this." The mohawk guy whistled softly at the darkened skin guy next to him.

You sat slightly leaning to the captain's side, passing one of the tattooed arms over the back of your own chair. The neckline on the breasts more prominent. Through the corner of your eyes, you saw Dani and the other women at the table spinning their jackets over their heads – Dani let a wolf whistle escape.

"So, what are you drinking, Captain?" Price chuckled as he looked you deep into your eyes.

"Whiskey."

"Hmn... "

With a shake from your hand, you called the waitress to the table and asked for another two doses.  The waitress, knowing you well, smiled blinking one eye when you whispered to her what whiskey you wanted. As soon as she put the glass on the table, John picked it up and tried the drink. The man's eyebrows rose in surprise for taste.

"Surprised, sir?"  You laughed lightly, really enjoying having impressed the man.

"I didn't expect you to know good whiskeys, I admit."

"You want to know my secret?" You asked, leaning slightly forward as the cup hid your growing smile. Price waved confirming. "I like my whiskey the way I like my men... I like them older."

The rest of the dose went down your throat, burning your stomach along with the tequila. You rose from the chair still smiling like a wolf that cornered his prey and supported a hand on the shoulder of the man looking into his eyes.

"They always taste better."

Price's eyes darkened slightly, his expression shifting to something slightly wild. Fuck, your body's heated up – and maybe it's not the drink responsible.

"See you around, sir."

You left the table, listening to the whistles of the two men you didn't know while they were messing with the captain.  Looking over your shoulder, you noticed that John had not turned his gaze away.

Maybe he is the wolf now...

And you're the prey about to be cornered.

Fuck, you can come, Captain. I’m waiting for you.