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gremlingottoosilly · 7 months

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The Horror and The Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] Medieval Fantasy AU (ch.4)

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one.

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4| you're here! AO3 Word count: 3469 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig Warnings for this chapter: Dub-con oral sex(f!receiving), outdated views regarding sex

— Now, dear princess, your husband will expect certain…qualities of his wife. Please, you must listen to this as closely as possible if we want to avoid…traumas.

You pout, eating the apple that was provided to you by a group of servants who looked way too scared to be appointed to a princess. If Her Highness saw this, she would order them whipped – a servant shall never look unhappy in front of their patron, as not to invoke nasty feelings of sadness, misery, and empathy in the royal rulers. Princess made you smile and laugh through hours of her extensive, albeit a bit improvised and amateur, singing. You were to hold her hair while she was doing it, listening to the melodies of desire to escape the castle.

The servants in front of you were sent by the Emperor – König, to…teach you something. You were not too interested in his, way too invested in weird fruits from foreign countries that they provided – still, you are too well-mannered to ignore them.

— Traumas? Is his Emperor’s Illustrosicy going to torture me?

Servants look over at each other, nervous. You tilt your head to the side, trying to see if you can decipher their gazes – but you see nothing but sympathy. Sad, miserable kind. Your blood runs cold as you get another bite of that apple.

— You’re as innocent as Emperor said, your Majesty.

You weren’t, in reality – you’re a liar, a traitor to your nation, the only one of the servants who was too scared to die alongside the royal family and performed that foolish gamble in order for a chance to save your hide. Such silly things like an untouchable hymen between your legs or lack of knowledge of intimacy, saved for a few books, are nothing compared to the life you are saving in your mind, There is nothing innocent about you or your actions.

— W…well, you see…you are of child-bearing age.

That was up for discussion. You might be an adult by all standards, a bit too ripe even, too sheltered for the age in which young men are already taking their family’s businesses and women are giving birth to their second and third children, but it doesn’t mean you want to bear someone’s kid. Definitely not conceive from a man who destroyed your future.

— I won’t do it.

You act like a princess would – bratty and pouty, all the new dresses and the room they place you in acting like a perpetuar of your ego.

— My Lady, this isn’t up for discussion. Please, we need to…we need to teach you how to do it, in order to prevent…accidents.

— What accidents?

The other servant, an older lady with tired eyes and snappy gestures, took out a pile of drawings from the bag she was holding. Quite a lot of drawings. Quite detailed drawings. Quite nasty drawings.

Quite…bloody drawings.

Gods, is this what a woman must endure during lovemaking? Is this even lovemaking, or is this a dissection straight from the medical book? The drawings are lewd and horrifying – whoever was the artist, they didn’t spare the details of the act. Pain, blood, torn flesh…god, if they wanted you to learn how to take your husband properly, they did a horrible job – now you don’t ever want to see him again. Not without armor plates protecting…that thing.

— I w…won’t do it. Behead me this instant.

Your voice is weak, horrified. Servants look equally scared.

— Your Majesty, you must know that it’s just…the worst outcome. If you listen to your lessons and relax, you will escape such a fate.

— How could a living being relax while they are being impaled on a spear?!

— With certain balms and extracts, such fate can be escaped.

— How can a balm prevent this?! Too angry to ever listen to the servants, you drip the drawings from your hands, along with a half-eaten apple. Un-ladylike, but you need to preserve your life – and your dignity – before they would show you even more horrifying things that would never let you sleep again. Tugging on the heaviness of your skirt, you ran to the nearest hallway as soon as possible.

The emperor’s palace is disgustingly big and dark – you’d say it was magnificent in that scary, gothic style, but you don’t have the time to think about all the artistic choices that the architects made by installing so many dark hallways in a place that suppose to protect Emperor from possible assassins. Still, you drop to the nearest dark corner, hoping that no one will follow you.

With a calm sigh, you brush the dust from your skirts. God, you had to bring that apple with you – it was delicious.

— I never heard anyone calling my cock a spear before, Liebling. You’re full of surprises.

Big, gloved hands are enveloping your waist, putting you in the hug you didn’t want. This embrace is all too familiar and too terrifying – you forget that this castle serves the only true owner, and your desire to escape will never be considered an option. Like a rabbit in the wolf’s mouth, you freeze. The worst company you could expect after such a horrifying lesson – your only hope is that, like men from the novels you and Princess were reading sometimes, The Emperor was into his comrades more than he would be into you.

His warm hands, pulling you into a tight hug against his body, however, make you think otherwise.

— Let go of me! Pl…please.

You plead because the drawings installed a new fear into your body. You're not afraid of death – if anything, you wish for it. However, the fait of constant pain and suffering which each nightly visit makes you more terrified than any death sentence would.

König only laughs, holding you as close to him as possible. A warm hand grazes over your stomach, making you shiver from anticipation. You don’t know what he is thinking about – you also don’t want to.

— Why would I let go of my precious wife?

— I’m not your wife yet.

— And won’t be for quite a while, considering the lessons my servants taught you?

Blood drains from your face. Even the slightest reminder makes you whimper – like a puppy without its mother, you let go of a pathetic little sound, and your face finds comfort in the armor plates that Knog wears even in many of his castles. Cold metal makes you slightly calmer, and you can force the dreams of touching his chest instead of deep in your mind. Bane to all the lewdness, as you saw the amount of blood it would drain from your body.

— I will never succumb to such fate.

— I promise it won’t be that bad. I can whip my servants for installing fear in you if you want to, little princess.

No matter how scared they made you feel, you will never bestow such fate on any of the servants – you, perhaps, the only one who knows how hard and horrible work as a lady in waiting might be. You might not be the perfect princess, but you certainly aren’t a cruel one.

— No. They…they shall not be harmed, Your Majesty.

He chuckles, pushing a hand on your face. A few tears fall down your cheeks – he drains them with his gloved finger, making you whimper only more. God, you look divine like this – eyes are glistening with tears, the face is hot from fear and embarrassment, the mouth is open with a sweet little pout…it takes every last inch of his self-control not to simply pick you up and bring you to his bedroom before you could say anything.

— You’re kind for a princess.

There is suspicion in his voice – but you quickly try to brush it away by forcing yourself out of his embrace. Unfortunately, he only holds you tighter, making you bury your face in his armor again. To be honest, it’s not the worst place to be.

— Shouldn’t you be in the courtroom?

— I ran. Never liked to greet new people.

You almost choke on your breath. Is he serious?! His face betrays his emotions – despite how confident his mask is, you can see that his eyes are colder than usual. More nervous than usual. His hands are shaking, if only for a little bit, holding you tight, as you can simply escape through his fingers like sand. You’d love to have such powers.

— I thought the Emperor had responded.

— I do. And an army of men to do these responsibilities for me.

— You’re hiding from my country’s Ambassadors?

— Collaborators and traitors of your people, yes. The only ambassador I care about is in my hands.

With this, he quickly pushes you up in his hands, forcing you to sit on the cold stone ledge. The new dress design makes it possible to manipulate and move the skirt as he pleases – you hate this new fashion because it makes it ridiculously easy for König to simply push your skirt upwards, revealing your legs and your dignity, concealed by only a pair of short, frilly white underpants with so many bows and ribbons, it feels obscene.

You try to kick him in the face, but he catches your ankle before you can do anything. He was a horrible, terrible man – totally unfit for the ruler of half of the world, you have no idea how a man this villainous could still be held in high regard for his people. This place is just as barbaric as their ruler, you presume – no dignity or sense of taste as König holds your skirt up, tearing apart the delicate fabric. God, it probably cost a fortune!

Emerald green fabric lays like green ocean waves under your legs. You must admit, even the cold of the inner parts of the palace does not make you feel uncomfortable – if anything, this moment of exposure of your legs makes you feel a bit more comfortable and fresh. The light breeze caresses your legs, and you almost want to close your eyes and just enjoy wearing clothes without the stuffiness of the full gown.

With your corset, torn skirt, and underpants, you almost feel like you’re wearing pants – an obscene picture, you assume, a lady should never show her ankles to anyone but her husband…and you would do everything to stop him from being marked as one. Still, König places his large imposing body between your legs, and you panic immediately – is this monster terrible enough to show you what those illustrations meant, not even in the comfort of a marriage bed, but in the coldness of the stone hallway? You close your eyes, kicking him to your heart’s content – and he is laughing every time you’re trying to resist, only catching both of your ankles in his grip and forcing them open. God, this is the end. Torture that you never wanted to experience will be bestowed upon you right about…

His tongue goes to rub you through the rough fabric of your underpants. Dispute all the layers of expensive material, your maidenhood feels like it had been set on fire.

You are suddenly aware of the silly things you have between your legs. You can feel them too well right now – every second of movement of his tongue against sensitive flesh makes your legs kick him less and less. Your nails are trying to dig into the stone of a small ledge you were sitting on – but you can’t do anything to stop this sweet torture he is perpetuating. You want for everything to stop this instant, and you want for him to finally take off your undergarments.

— Wh…wha…what are you doing?! You don’t scream as loud as you can, only because you know that the maids are nearby and you don’t want to be making a scene. Putting the emperor back in his place and revealing him as a pervert would be nice, of course – but it wasn’t as nice as having your dignity saved. You bite your lips, feeble attempts to save at least parts of yourself – still, you feel like you’re being boiled alive by his masterful tongue, without even the need to bring your pants down and feel him on your flesh directly.

— I want to show you how nice this could be.

— How nice what could be?! You are still kicking your legs, and he is slowly taking down the fabric of your underpants. You wish he had exposed hair so you could tug on it – you wish he wasn’t afraid of showing you his face, just so you could break it properly. A lady should always protect her virginity from a man with evil intentions, and König was certainly the most evil person of them all.

Still, his tongue felt so good, circling around the parts you were only finding accidentally, blindly searching for pleasure like a dumb kitten, trying every little button in your body to see what would make you squirm. He is masterful at this, every action is deliberate and strong – every little thing in his movements makes you wonder just how many women he bedded.

You can still feel the little tremble in his hands, his fingers that supported you and kept your legs apart are trembling, if only just a bit – you wonder if he truly is nervous about everything he is doing or if he just wants to make everything perfect. His touch leaves a trail of bruises on your inner thighs and you never thought that you’d yearn for a man whose touch is literally hurting you.

— I know how to make… consumation go painless, little princess. Certainly have the experience for this.

— Is fondling my undergarments a part of this experience, Your Highness?

— If you wish for me to lost my control, little princess.

Before you could say anything else about not wanting for him to simply take off your underpants and throw them on the cold floor of the castle, he had already lowered them to hang around your ankles – revealing your sensitive folds, already glossy and wet from all the fondling he performed to make you nice and ready for him.

König knew he shouldn’t be doing this – losing control would be too easy in this case. Little princess, out of her own depth, can barely stop him when he wants to take something precious from her – still, he wanted to at least try to be slower, softer, to make everything perfect and make her his precious trophy. Her dread over bedding him would prove horrible for their marriage – if she didn’t wish for the workers to be saved, he would already sent those dumb maids away.

Princess is adult enough to learn the pleasures of being a woman – still, he understood why a king would want to hide a precious flower like this. You don’t behave like a spoiled brat would, no matter how much you want to make him think you were nothing but a pouty face and frowned brows, and he wants to see your true self – your inner nature, revealing itself in front of him. And he knows just a way to do this…

Your cunt is perfect – he is a soldier, a man of war and little romance, he can’t sing you a song of how beautiful and perfect your maidenhood is, but he can lick it and tease it and make you come on his tongue more than you ever could with that dainty fingers of yours.

He isn’t ashamed of touching your sweetness when he is burning his face between your legs. Not even caring that his hood, which he had to draw back as fast as possible, is going to get messy with all o your juices, he licks and tugs on your clit, your folds, on every sensitive bit of skin of your body.

And, by god, are you sensitive?

Soon, your little cries of pleasure are turning into moans that you are pathetically trying to hide. Soon you are marking his rough, rugged face wet with your juices – his nose is pressed on your clit constantly, and that well-mannered, perfectly bred royal woman in your body is moaning like a common whore.

König isn’t trying to be too gentle – his mind is filled with that boyish nerves and anxiety, the fear of getting spotted not because anyone would have anything to say to the literally fucking emperor, but because he doesn’t want anyone else to see how easily he can drown little princess in pleasure. She is a perfect girl, so pretty for him, so nice and wet when he pushes his tongue in and out.

He forgot the last time he experienced such pleasure – his dick only grows with each gentle stroke of tongue in your folds, and he doesn’t even need to touch himself. You’re perfect for him, writhing under his touch, he had to force himself to stop putting too much pressure on your poor swollen clit. König almost forgot just how sensitive you are – he had to introduce you slowly to the world of pleasure, not pushing you into the depths before you could even get married, but…well, he was never one to follow the rules – and you, as his precious bride, deserved something nice outside of the wedlock.

— St…stop, it’s t’ much…

You are mumbling, holding his hood in your hands, and he is almost afraid you are going to pull it to reveal his face even more – but even your ruined skirt is enough of a cover to make his identity concealed, and he isn’t afraid of pushing your gummy walls with his tongue, gently caressing your insides.

You are clenching around his tongue, the intrusion is unfamiliar to you – he makes sure he kisses your clit from time to time, holding the sensitive bud between his teeth so as to threaten you gently. He usually involves a lot more biting and would love to put some permanent marks on your thighs and soft lower tummy, but if you were scared of the drawings those dumb maids put on to you, he doesn’t want to fuel your fear any further. He could try later, making your perfect body into a canvas for his desire.

— Patience is a grace for a princess, ja? Be patient, Meine Liebe.

— Pl…please, stop, I don’t…

— What is it?

— It’s too much, you shouldn’t…

— I’m not claiming you yet. God won’t be against a bit of fun, Schatzi.

— I’m against it…

— Your moans tell another story, little princess.

He knows you don’t want to be patient – he tugs at every nerve inside your body, his tongue swings in and out, and his lips caress your soft folds, collecting any juice that might be escaping. He will have to gift you another dress after this – but he is so used to seeing you in torn clothes it becomes a thing that stirs his manhood again and again. You look perfect when you’re not perfect – by god, he is unable to control himself.

You whine lightly as he presses a final kiss to your clit, catching your orgasm and drinking your pleasure. He is a messy eater through and through – his stubble makes you whimper from sensitivity, you sob lightly as he pushes back, a hood returning to conceal his face before your dazed eyes would be able to catch him.

Hell, you look precious.

Panting, with sweat beads glossy on your skin, with your lips open and moans escaping it – with your face completely turned into an expression of enormous pleasure, he doesn’t know what to do with himself as he watches you breathe heavily, chest going up and down. If he could, he would chain you to a bed in his bedroom, not ever allowing your precious figure to escape.

He might just do this when you’re married.

You whimper under him, your eyes are still glazed with that pleasurable expression, making him smile under his hood. You may hate him all you want, but he sees the truth – knows just how perfect you are in your stubborn desire to defy him.

— Wh…what was it?

You are still shocked but regain some of your senses – you take on your underpants quickly, stubbornness spreading across your warm, embarrassed face. How he loves that expression.

— I wanted to show you that our wedding night wouldn’t be as bad.

— I would rather live without a wedding night, Your Majesty.

— Now, was it that bad?

You tilt your head to the side.

— I am not here to feed your ego.

— You’re sure it is feeding my other senses.

He brushes his hand over your face. You allow him to – not because you wanted his touch, but because you needed some time to think, and his touch was gentle enough to ignore. Yes. That is the truth.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #yandere cod #konig mw2 #reader insert

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violentvaleska · 4 months

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𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒓

ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴs/ ᴀᴜ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴏʀ!ʟᴇᴠɪ × ʏᴇᴀɢᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴏʀ ʟᴇᴠɪ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀ ʜɪs ʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴜɴᴄʟᴇ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ, ʜᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴡʜʏ ʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴏғғᴇʀ ᴋɪɴɢ ɢʀɪsʜᴀ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴀʟ: ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʜɪs ᴏɴʟʏ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ, ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀs ʜɪs ᴡɪғᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴇᴍᴘʀᴇss.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: sᴍᴜᴛ, sʟɪɢʜᴛ ʙʀᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ ᴋɪɴɢ, ᴛᴏxɪᴄ, ᴏʙsᴇssɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, sᴇxɪsᴍ

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴀs ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs...ᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅs ᴏɴ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏs ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ;)

Emperor!Levi who actually never wanted to be the damn king of anything. Being the only heir to the throne after his late uncle passed away he had no choice but to take the rein of the war-ridden empire Paradis

Emperor!Levi who decides after a long conversation with his consultant Erwin Smith, that the war needed to end, there was no point in continuing something his megalomaniacal uncle has started. And if conflicts aren't solved with war they are being solved with women. There opinion in this doesn't matter, an arranged marriage would be a key to peace and a potential marriage.

Emperor!Levi who offered the Marleyan King Grisha Yeager a generous deal: His cousin Princess Mikasa Ackerman of Paradis and Hizuru would be married off to their second son, Prince Eren Yeager of Marley and Levi would take their daughter in return, making her Empress of Paradis. He knew they wouldn't be able to refuse the deal, considering that Grisha Yeager's second wife, Carla, was once a noblewoman of Paradis.

Emperor!Levi who secretly only offered the deal because King Grishas youngest children were in fact half Eldian.

Emperor!Levi who, when he saw you for the first time, couldn't belive his luck. You, the Princess of Marley, were in fact a true beauty. You not only looked clean but smelled like it too, like you were taking good care of yourself. It truly relived him to see that you weren't filthy like your oldest brother Zeke. He originally planned to offer Mikasa to him, but seeing how he already had a wife, Ymir, a woman with eldian heritage and slave history, he had to give her hand to the younger brother.

Emperor!Levi who thought you were rather shy and docile, but came to realize that you infact were able to keep up with his cynic personality and were well read too.

"At least our children won't be as dumb as the heir to your lands throne" He told you the night before your wedding at dinner.

"I can't argue that. Zeke is an eccentric narcissist, I'm honestly glad to have a different mother than him." You awnsered calmly, taking a sip of your wine, while glancing at your soon to be husband.

Emperor!Levi who could not longer control himself on your wedding night and broke your hymen with a harsh trust of his hips, making you yelp in a mixture of pain and pleasure, as you wiggled under his body, naked and vulnerable. Levi took his sweet time with you, making sure to impregnate you well.

Emperor!Levi who despised the idea of children, but somehow find the encouragement to fuck you every night in hopes to see your belly round with his child, his own heir, soon.

Emperor!Levi who got madly protective over you when the doctors confirmed your pregnancy to him. It went so far he didn't even want you to leave his chambers in fear something could happen to you. You felt furious, trapped and robbed of your freedom. Freedom, something your brother Eren had plenty off now that the war was over thanks to you and his wife, Mikasa.

Emperor!Levi who didn't understand why you were so upset with him, demanding of you to be grateful instead of a "nagging woman". If it wasn't for his own mother to stop her sons madness, you'd probably still be locked up in his room.

Emperor!Levi who nearly cried tears of joy when he held his newborn son in his arms for the first time, calling him Furlan after his late friend, a soldier who died a heroic death in the war. It was bitter, yet filled his cold heart with joy.

Emperor!Levi who found a new obsession in having you, his wife and empress, as an object of his desires, in every way possible. He'd make sure you won't be able to go back to that filth of a kingdom you have been born in. You were his wife now, his very own key to his heart...

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kentoberry · 2 years

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MON CHERI. — toji fushiguro.

ABOUT: toji knows the horrors of the zen'in clan, and offers something a little more than comfort to naoya's wife.

NOTES: naoya is in his early 20s and toji is in his late 20s. set before toji leaves the clan. i wrote a lot of this while spaced out on pain meds so... yeah LOL

CWS: sub fem reader, some canon divergence, cheating, arranged marriage, toxic relationships, breeding, dubcon, impregnation, controlling behaviour (from naoya), hymen breaking, implied v*rginity loss, p*ssy inspection, misogyny, car s*x, fingering, thigh riding, overuse of pet names, slight hand f3tish, spit, choking mention, dirty talk.

well, that’s one way to get back at the zen’in clan.

you’d been betrothed to naoya zen’in before you could even pronounce the word “engagement”, as the elders from your respective clans thought that it would be beneficial in a political sense. you were raised to understand that this was how things must be, and that there was no backing out. it wasn’t until your wedding day that you finally met naoya, having spent your days as a little girl dreaming that as you walked down the aisle, you’d be taking steps towards your prince charming. oh, how wrong you were.

naoya was an absolute asshole from the very beginning. he even instructed the officiant at your wedding to “get this over with” as soon as possible, and barely even made eye contact with you throughout the ceremony. your heart shattered into a billion tiny pieces, but you grinned and beared it. you knew that there was a chance that you’d be stuck in a loveless marriage, and that was now your reality.

the first night that you spent together, your new husband’s first question to you was regarding your abilities to bear a child. not whether or not you wanted one, but rather when you would be able to get pregnant. he wanted to secure an heir, which would thus secure his position in the clan. naoya truly didn’t care about you, his only goal was to breed a baby into your fertile cunt.

hell, he even poked and prodded at your pussy, satisfied only when you winced and a small trail of blood followed. the man hadn’t truly believed that you were a virgin, all modern women were cockhungry whores to him, so he resorted to inspecting your hymen himself. in naoya’s eyes, your body now belonged to him.

fast forward to your six month anniversary. you barely left the estate. naoya ensured that you be stuffed and bred full of his semen every night, the filthiest of names slipping past his lips as he degraded you and berated you for the fact that you weren’t yet carrying his child. you were nothing more than the man’s cumdump, following his every rule down to the detail. at events, he paraded you around as the perfect piece of arm candy, giving every attendee the impression that you were a happily married pair.

it was at one of these events that you’d been introduced to naoya’s cousin, who looked as though he didn’t want to be there anymore than you did. he introduced himself as toji, and wasted no time in talking shit about the clan that you had unknowingly married into. if naoya had cared enough to pay attention to you, he would have dragged you away from the other man. but he didn’t. instead, you spent majority of the evening listening to toji’s stories, promising him that you would do everything in your power to ensure a brighter future for the zen’in clan.

“but ya don’t have any power in y’r relationship, do ya, princess?”

you looked down to mask the heat that spread across your cheeks, such pet names feeling foreign to you. toji knew that he was right, and continued chatting away as he nursed his glass of alcohol.

“naoya’s always been a real piece of work. never fuckin’ treated a woman right in his life. always screamin’ at his maids to do everything for him, firing them if they made the slightest fuck-up. always felt sorry for the poor lass that would end up with ‘im. doubt he’s ever even made ya cum.”

the man took a moment to evaluate your expression, which only confirmed his prior assumption. he took pity on you, really. the rough spoken man knew the atrocities that the zen’ins were capable of, and the scar along his lip was evidence of such. feeling sorry, he resorted to what he knew best, hollering at the bartender for two more drinks, one for each of you.

“i, umm, i can’t drink,” you mumbled.

“don’t tell me he dictates what ya put in your body, darlin’. . .”

“no! no!” your voice was apologetic, as though you’d said something that you shouldn’t have. “it’s not like that; alcohol just isn’t good when you’re trying to conceive…”

toji scoffed. “you want to get knocked up by that man? you insane, princess?”

you sighed in defeat. “he wants a baby, so i need to have one. it’s what i’m supposed to do.”

your face depicted a sight that he knew all to well. toji put an arm over your shoulders slowly so as not to make you jump. he saw the tears that you worked to conceal, hand slowly rubbing your arm in attempt to soothe you.

“let’s get out of here. tell the cunt that you aren’t feeling too well; makes sense to be if he’s tryna put a kid in ya. i’ll take you home, maybe drive around a little if ya want. y’r a sweetheart, don’t let him ruin it, okay?”

you simply nodded, feeling strange that a zen’in was giving you a choice.

“i’ll go grab my jacket, and meet ya by the door. is that alright with you?”

again, you nodded. you smoothed out your outfit, once again putting on a brave face and seeking out your husband. it didn’t take too long to spot the blonde, pushing your way through seas of people to reach him. you kept your hand situated on your lower stomach, hoping that it helped to sell your fake story.

upon approaching him, you called his name though to no avail. it took tugging on his sleeve to finally gain his attention, which resulted in him turning to you with a disdainful expression. “what?” he queried coldly.

you began muttering about how you weren’t feeling too well and were needing to head home, but were cut off by him-

“speak up, woman. you’re wasting my time.”

you did just that, leaning closer to him so that he could hear you better.

“whatever.”

despite being used to naoya’s lack of human emotion, it still hurt. as though your wedding day was a knife being plunged into your stomach, and each insult was your husband twisting the weapon. there was no ‘stay safe, honey!’ or concern regarding how you were getting back to your room, he just liked that he controlled you enough that you felt the desire to inform him of your every move.

you kept your head low as you went to reunite with toji, who leant against the venue’s door frame, fiddling with the keys to his car in hand. mustering up a tiny smile, you greeted your knight in shining armour and headed out with him.

toji was quick to open the passenger side door of his vintage mustang, allowing you to get in with ease. such a simple act of chivalry made your heart flutter in a way that you knew it shouldn’t. the little girl who’d been suppressed inside of you for so long suddenly sprung back to life, making you feel like the raven haired man was your prince charming helping you into your bespoke carriage. you almost felt giddy, a feeling that grew overwhelming to the point that tears began to gather along your waterline.

in the meantime, toji had started the car’s engine and was ready to pull out of the parking lot of empty cars. he checked on his fuel gauge before looking over to you.

his drawled “everything alright, darlin’?” was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. you began spilling your guts to the borderline stranger, detailing how unhappy your marriage to naoya made you and all of the shit that he put you through.

toji turned off the car, pulling your weeping form into his chest as he hushed you. he was a man of few words in that moment, instead doing his best to provide the comfort to you that had been absent during his own experiences with the harshness of the zen’in clan.

“i’m sorry,” he murmured, “it’s not your fault.”

you could have sworn the man was struggling to hold back his own tears as you finally looked up at him, though before you could fully discern his emotions, he placed a tender kiss to your forehead, mumbling that you didn’t deserve to be put through such trials and tribulations. you seemed a sweet soul.

the kiss, albeit innocent, flustered you. it was laced with a gentleness that you had never experienced. naoya was the only man that you had ever been intimate with, and he’d been the furthest from benevolent that one could be. it made you forget the ring on your left hand, instinctively tilting your chin up and pulling toji in for another kiss.

he hadn’t expected to feel your lips against his own. the smell of your expensive perfume overwhelmed him, feeling intoxicated by your touch. he wasted no time in deepening the kiss, grabbing your hips and encouraging you to straddle him in the driver’s seat.

upon pulling away for a brief moment to catch his breath, toji informed you of the tinted windows, promising that nobody would see whatever you both found yourselves getting up to.

with hair and makeup a mess, you found yourself grinding against his thigh in an attempt for some friction. the way that the hem of your dress had splayed over toji's lap meant that your cunt bordered on bare because of the sheer black lace that naoya ordered you wear. the material covering your slit was thin, the perfect opportunity for your husband to tear in two when he got impatient with the preparations required before fucking you.

there was an obvious wet patch soaking its way through the fabric, something that toji noticed after swiping two fingers against your clothed pussy.

"she's already drippin', doll," he growled, voice having dropped another octave. he slipped your panties aside, traipsing his digits along your dampened folds. afterwards, he placed his slick coated fingers into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you on his hand. "shit, darlin', y'r fuckin' heavenly."

before you could even make a sound, toji pulled you in for another kiss. you could taste the faint remnants of your arousal on his taste buds, making a move to pull back that would have been successful if not for his hand pressing against the back of your head, keeping you in place.

“sweetheart,” he grumbled, hot breath fanning the sensitive skin at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “sure about this?”

you were quick to utter the affirmative, shortly followed by whimpering at the loss of contact as toji lifted you back into the passenger’s seat. he chuckled at the reaction, feeling lucky to have elicited such a reaction from you. switching the engine back on, the man began speeding out of the lot.

you were certain that you couldn’t wait a moment longer. perhaps it was the idea of doing something so taboo mixed with the anticipation that being with toji had already generated. your hand slipped underneath your dress, hiking the material up your thighs as you caressed the tender skin. your breath caught in your throat as your fingers ghosted over your clothed clit, whining at the sensation.

“can’t even wait f’me, princess?” toji smirked. instead of chiding you for such brattiness, he chose to indulge you, even moving his hand from the gearstick to peel away your underwear.

you could have sworn you heard him moan at the sight of your glistening cunt, not even caring that your arousal seeped onto his fine leather upholstery. all whilst keeping his composure with driving, he slipped a finger into your weeping folds and began to fuck you. in response, you simply gripped his arm. he took it as a sign that you were enjoying this, deciding upon adding another digit to your hole. with ease, he located the rough spot that made your toes curl, massaging circles into it as he began to stretch your pretty cunt open. with the way that you were practically creaming on his hand, he could truly tell how your husband had been neglecting your needs and desires.

as toji came into contact with a red light, he took a moment to halt the car and immediately provided you with his undivided attention. his first action was to roughly spit onto your pussy, using his thumb to spread his saliva and make a mess of your cunt. as possessive as it may seem, he wanted to taint your body in all the lewd ways that he could think of. you deserved to be his princess, not naoya’s pathetic little cumdump.

“play with y’r clit, doll,” he instructed, and you did just that. nay, you went above and beyond his instructions. you released his arm and began groping at your tits, allowing for them to spill over the neckline of your dress for better access. you played with your stiffening nipples, tweaking and tugging as your other hand made a beeline for your swollen clit, the pads of your fingers becoming coated in the concoction of your slick and toji’s spit.

toji briefly palmed the growing bulge in his pants before placing his hand back on the steering wheel. when he had to remove his hand from your cunt in order to shift gears, you considered teasing him about not driving something automatic in this day and age but were instead distracted by how fucking attractive his veiny hand looked wrapped around the piece of machinery. it only turned you on even more when you saw the shimmering of your arousal still coating his middle and ring finger. you couldn’t help but wonder how his hand would feel wrapped around your throat.

when he could spare a hand once again, toji’s fingers plunged back into your hole. due to the fact that you’d been brutally toying with your clit whilst indulging in such salacious ideas of the man, he could feel your walls flutter around him, indicating that you were likely close to an orgasm.

toji didn’t alter the speed of his movements, instead he resorted to using his words to attempt to tip you over the edge.

“‘s it, gonna cum all over my car, pretty thing? can’t even wait f’r my cock? bet you’re thinkin’ about me, aren’t ya, darlin’? want me to ruin ya, fuck ya like you wish that no good piece of shit you call a husband can’t. when we get home, i don’t think i’ll be satisfied ‘til i’ve destroyed that pretty little pussy on every fuckin’ surface i got. you’d like that, wouldn’t ya? cunt feels so good, can’t wait until my fat cock is buried deep in her, stretching the poor girl out until she’s creamin’ f’me.”

his words went straight to your core, though it was one final sentence that really tipped you over the edge.

“maybe i’ll do what he never could ‘nd put a baby in ya, princess,”

#🍑 ૮ • ﻌ • ა #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #naoya x reader #naoya zen'in x reader #naoya smut #naoya zenin smut #tojisluvrposts

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thatsonemorbidcorvid · 5 months

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“Forced marriage — in which one or both parties do not give full, free consent — is recognized globally as a form of modern slavery. My story is far from unique: Around the world, 22 million people were in a forced marriage as of 2021.

Yet, even though the United States acknowledges that forced marriage is a human rights abuse, few laws and policies are in place to prevent or punish it, and the nation has paid such scant attention to this issue that we do not even know how often forced marriage happens here.

What’s more, child marriage remains legal in most U.S. states, even though it is recognized as a form of forced marriage and a human rights abuse. Some 300,000 children were married in the U.S. between 2000 and 2018, mostly girls wed to adult men. At least 60,000 marriages occurred at an age or with a spousal age difference that should have been considered a sex crime.”

Note: The following essay contains descriptions of sexual assault and abuse.

They sent me off to be raped, with a party and a tube of K-Y Jelly.

The lubricant was to reduce the intense physical pain they explained I would endure while being penetrated by a stranger-turned-husband, without foreplay, without consent. Every month. Until death do us part.

The party — a low-budget wedding in 1995 at a Brooklyn venue aptly nicknamed Armpit Terrace — was to distract me from the horrific reality of my forced marriage to the stranger.

“Mazel tov!” they told me, beaming.

In the reclusive Orthodox Jewish community in New York City where I grew up, choices about whether, when and whom I would marry did not belong to me. At home and at the all-girls religious school I attended, where I learned to cook and sew and keep house, I was groomed from early childhood to expect a teen marriage to a stranger my family and a matchmaker would choose for me.

I was allowed to meet the stranger several times before my engagement, but I was not allowed to be alone with him nor to have any physical contact with him. I was a clueless 19-year-old who had never been allowed to “talk to a boy,” and suddenly I was given a matter of hours, over a period of a few weeks, to answer my family and his family and the matchmaker and everyone in the community standing there, tapping their feet, looking at their watches, waiting for me to tell them: You’ll marry this man we chose for you, right?

“No” was never really an option.

During my six-week engagement, I still was not allowed to be alone with the groom nor to have any physical contact with him, which left more time for me to begin experiencing the myriad other abuses that come with a forced marriage.

First, a virginity exam. The groom’s rabbi sent me to an Orthodox Jewish gynecologist, where I was instructed to disrobe, get on the examination table and put my feet in the stirrups. The doctor inserted her gloved fingers into my vagina and confirmed that my hymen was intact.

“Mazel tov!” she told me, beaming.

I attended one-on-one bridal classes, where the curriculum centered on the requirement that I have unprotected sex with my husband on my wedding night and on a monthly basis thereafter. A lifetime of rape.

Yes, the rapes probably would hurt, the bridal class teacher explained. Hence the K-Y Jelly.

“Mazel tov!” she told me, beaming.

My stranger-turned-husband turned out to be violent and abusive. I learned this exactly one week after our wedding, when he became enraged because he had woken up late, and he punched his fist through the wall — hard enough to leave a sizable hole.

His first threat to kill me came only days later. Soon these threats became more frequent, specific and gruesome. He was brimming with creative ideas for how he would end my life, and he took the time to describe them to me in vivid detail. A lifetime of fear.

Yet I was trapped.

My forced marital sex was carefully timed each month for when I was ovulating. The reason for this was obvious: My first child was born 11 months after my wedding, and soon I had a second child.

I love my daughters, but I did not consent to having them. A lifetime of forced parenthood.

This denial of sexual and reproductive rights was not the only shackle preventing me from leaving my marriage. My husband did not allow me to have my own bank account or credit card, and I was taught that, under Orthodox Jewish law, if my husband allowed me to work, any money I earned belonged to him. A lifetime of domestic servitude and financial dependence.

I had limited legal rights too. Under Orthodox Jewish law, only a man can grant a divorce. I, as a woman, did not have the legal right to end my own marriage. A lifetime of being locked in unwanted wedlock.

One escape route for me would have been to move back in with my family as an agunah, a “chained woman” who is bound to a husband who refuses her a divorce. The life of an agunah is brutal; she is shamed for her powerlessness, blamed for her failed marriage and treated as an outcast.

But even this dreadful escape route was closed to me, because my family refused to take me back in. A lifetime of betrayal.

So I remained trapped in my abusive forced marriage. In accordance with Orthodox Jewish law, I was considered “unclean” every time I menstruated. While I was “unclean,” I was prohibited from having physical contact with my husband, sleeping in the same bed as him, handing him anything or undressing or singing in front of him. A lifetime of shame.

Once my period ended, I needed to count seven “clean” days without any menstrual blood, during which time the rules against physical contact continued. To make sure I stayed “clean” for the full seven days, I was required to wear white panties and, twice a day, to insert a white cloth into my vagina, swish it around and inspect it in sunlight to make sure it did not have blood spots. If I found questionable marks on my panties and could not tell whether they were blood, the rabbi would inspect them and give his pronouncement.

And the rabbi would keep my panties. A lifetime of extreme patriarchy.

Each month, after the seven “clean” days, I was forced to strip naked in front of an attendant who watched me immerse in a mikvah, or a ritual bath of rainwater, which frequently left me with a yeast infection and always left me shaking uncontrollably. A lifetime of violation.

All I wanted, every time I left the mikvah, was to take a hot shower and scrub the violation off me. That was prohibited. Instead I was required to go home and have nonconsensual sex with the man who had spent the day describing to me in graphic detail how he was going to murder me. The man who would not let me close the door when I used the bathroom, because “what was I hiding from him in there?”

No matter. I had to get on the bed and spread my legs and forget what had happened to me at the mikvah and ignore the pain while I waited for him to finish, and I had to remind myself how lucky I was that he usually was done after only three or four thrusts. A lifetime straight out of Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale.”

Forced marriage — in which one or both parties do not give full, free consent — is recognized globally as a form of modern slavery. My story is far from unique: Around the world, 22 million people were in a forced marriage as of 2021.

My husband would regularly search through my personal belongings in front of me, including in the pockets of the clothing in my closet and in my bag of tampons under the bathroom sink. A lifetime of subjugation. When I finally realized at age 27 that I was the only person who would help me leave my abusive forced marriage alive and I decided I would secretly save up cash for my escape, I found the only safe hiding place in the house: a box of Whole Grain Total in the pantry.

I saved more than $40,000 in that cereal box over the next five years.

During those years I also defied my community and did something no one in my family had ever done: I became a college student. My husband forbade me from attending classes. I informed him, calmly, that nothing he did to me would stop me from getting my education.

And I did something no one I knew had ever done: I threw out the limp, ugly wig I was required to wear as a married woman to cover my own thick, healthy hair. I walked outside with my uncovered head held high — the equivalent, in that community, of walking outside naked.

My family retaliated immediately by shunning me. One of my sisters notified me that my family was planning to sit shiva — or observe the Jewish mourning ritual for me — as if I had literally died. I have had almost no contact with my family since that day. A lifetime of being dead.

But I graduated from Rutgers University (as commencement speaker, the equivalent of valedictorian) at age 32, and I escaped my abusive forced marriage on my own, with my daughters and my box of Total. I fled the Orthodox Jewish community too, and I rebuilt my life.

In 2011 I founded a nonprofit organization, Unchained At Last, to combat forced and child marriage in the U.S. through direct services and systems change.

The U.S. is one of 193 countries that agree forced and child marriage are harmful practices, particularly for women and girls, and have promised to eliminate these abuses by year 2030 to help achieve gender equality, under the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals. Yet the U.S. is not on track to keep its promise.

I refuse to accept this. Not after I escaped my lifetime of oppression.

We at Unchained are fighting back by providing crucial wraparound services to a long-ignored population: those who are fleeing an existing or impending forced marriage in the U.S. To date we have provided legal and social services, always for free, to nearly 1,000 individuals, to help give them a lifetime of dignity, safety and hope.

We also started a national movement to end child marriage. In the last few years, our groundbreaking research and relentless advocacy have allowed us to help change the law in 10 U.S. states to ban child marriage — a stunning victory for the 7.5 million girls who live in those 10 states — and we are working on the other 40.

A lifetime of preventing other lifetimes of rape.

“Mazel tov!” I now tell myself, beaming, with each triumphant step closer to ending forced and child marriage in the U.S.

Fraidy Reiss is a forced marriage survivor turned activist. She is the founder and executive director of Unchained At Last, a survivor-led nonprofit organization working to end forced and child marriage in the U.S. through direct services and systems change. Fraidy’s research and writing on forced and child marriage have been published extensively, making her one of the nation’s foremost experts on these abuses. She has been featured in books (including as one of the titular women in Hillary and Chelsea Clinton’s “The Book of Gutsy Women”), films and countless television, radio and print news stories.

Need help? Visit RAINN’s National Sexual Assault Online Hotline or the National Sexual Violence Resource Center’s website.

Do you have a compelling personal story you’d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we’re looking for here and send us a pitch.

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gxlden-angels · 5 months

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Bro I hate fundamentalists and culturally-fundie parents they'll say shit like "spare the rod spoil the child am I right haha yea my parents used to have to beat my ass with a switch almost everyday but I sure did learn my lesson" but like??? no you didn't??? you were hit multiple times for something you very obviously did not, in fact, learn

Like studies about how harmful even lightly spanking children is aside, you're literally contradicting yourself?? Some even admitted they got worse as they got older cause they wanted to see how far they could push their parents before they got punished

And studies not aside, you're gonna get child raising advice from the same book that tells you to stone your wife if her hymen doesn't break on your wedding night instead of the decades of research we have now?? Just say you're a bad parent and move on my guy. Skill issue

#bro I had a coworker go 'unpopular opinion I think some kids really do need beatings' and I'm like????#unprompted???? what's going on there????#well anyways I ended up going 'yea so I plan on specializing in play therapy with autistic children so I've been learning about talking #to children and the ways their parents and environment affects them'#and they're like hmmm but beating this kid with a stick after they broke something or I upset them to the point of yelling is good actually #had a boss say it taught him and his kids respect cause they were hard-headed #and I'm like?? that's fear not respect! they fear punishment! they do not act out of respect for you!#he's a conservative christian black man tho so he's like 'But Authority!' like bro I don't even respect you what are you on about #'You don't respect police and their authority?' Nope! I fear them! I do not respect cops and every cop/cop-adjacent person I personally know #has reinforced that for me #'We'll agree to disagree' Cool! Doesn't mean you're not wrong! I could believe trees aren't real but that is in fact incorrect #then he pulled out the bible verse and I was like ah okay I forgot you like 'here's how to treat slaves' book you're so right bestie #I'm totally wrong now and so sorry for doubting you and your 2000+ year old book I don't believe in <3 #They'd go 'well I turned out fine!' then say something that directly contradicts that #anyways I need christians to get their grubby little hands off the current state of Child Protection and Rights in the U.S.#So we can actually start working on helping kids without the force of christian hands suffocating them #cause homeschooling and child raising by evangelicals are so fucked up bro I'm tired of this shit #I'd only stay in my current state to help children get out of that cycle since I'm in the bible belt #ex christian #religious trauma #child abuse tw

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suckerforlovesblog · 11 months

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A perfect match?

A perfect match? - Masterlist

Everything was different when you opened your eyes. Everything was different once again. Without knowing where you were, you sat up, rubbed your tired eyes and took a look around you. A pair of bright green eyes starred back at you through the dark. Hearing a deep rumbling voice saying that everything is fine now , you felt a shiver run down your spine and everything turned. The darkness welcomed you back once again…

Series warning: ABO Dynamics, Smut, Unprotected PIV , Scenting, Knotting, Language, age gap, Claiming, Breeding Kink

Chapter 2: Where Am I?

Summary: Y/N describes the situation in the care facility leading up to her “choosing ceremony”

Chapter warning: Angst, ABO Dynamics

Word count: 0.9k

~ taglist: @niiight-dreamerrrr ~

You woke up disoriented and in a strange place, everything smelled different and it was cold, really cold. A shiver immediately ran down your spin caused by the discomfort as well. As soon as your eyes adjusted to the dark you looked around and took in the room around you.

The walls were plain, made from cement. You were laying on a very hard and uncomfortable bed, right across from you was a toilet and that was it. Discovering that your right foot was chained to the metal bedpost when you stood up, you sat back down and put your face in your hands. A silent cry left your lips.

Ever since your first heat you knew this moment was inevitable. You had talked about it with your parents, your brother and thought about it enough. But you never thought it would come so soon and that you didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to your parents. You are sure that you would never see any of your family members again. Your parents were traitors and will either serve the rest of their life in prison or be killed. After a young Omega presented for the first time the state their Alpha was born in automatically became their owner. But only up until an Alpha came to claim the young Omega and then the Omega would automatically become their possession. With your parents leaving the country and you being born somewhere else you technically still belonged to the state of Texas. Not coming back after your first heat your parents knew that the Law Enforcement Agencies would be searching for you everywhere and that you were living on borrowed time. You felt responsible for your parents fate…

Your thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and the light was turned on. You held a hand up to your eyes and then looked at the people that entered the room. There was a tall Alpha man in a white coat, a Doctor and two Beta women who seemed to be nurses. The man smiled at you and introduced himself, afterwards explaining the protocol and what he would be examining. You just looked at him silently, your mind drifting back to your parents every now and then but still following the Doctors orders. He let you take off all your clothes, examined your mating gland, as well as your vagina and your hymen to note that you were still a virgin and unclaimed. You felt extremely exposed, like a lost child searching for their mother.

After the doctor was done with your appointment, as the nurses called it, he gave you a shot never explaining what for. You came to find out it’s a GPS tracker.

The nurses gave you a mid length white dress to wear and then undid the chain on your foot. You were told to braid your hair in pigtails and then taken to a room.

Said room had two bunk beds, two dressers and a table with four chairs on one wall. At the end of the room there was a window. Outside you saw a lot of trees, so you assumed you were taken into a forest. The nurses said your roommates would come very soon and left you afterwards.

Shortly after two girls entered the room. A tall girl with red straight hair, a foxy face and a lot of freckles, her name was Fate was the first one to enter. She was followed by a shorter girl with darker skin, brown eyes and very curly hair. Her name was Presley.

The three of you sat down and started talking how you got there. Presley and Fate enjoyed your story a lot and were really excited to hear about all the stories you could tell and the place you have been to. Fate had been in a care facility for Omegas ever since she was 7 years old and Presley was born into a big clan but her mother then gave her to the facility because she didn’t want her to live in the Harem. You soon came to learn that their former two roommates were taken away to a “choosing ceremony” and then claimed and taken away.

Presley, Fate and you grew really close over the next year and did everything together. Cooking, exercising, learning, attending classes. You learned about cooking and baking which you enjoyed a lot, as well as housekeeping, child care and basic finances - anything that could be useful to your Alpha.

Nearing your 18th birthday the nurse’s and doctor’s appointments became more frequent and you had a class to prep you for your choosing ceremony. Upon first entering they gave you immune suppressants so that you wouldn’t get another heat until your Alpha was ready for you. The nurse made you get a hair cut: Your long (Y/H/C) was cut until above shoulder length with some nice waves which framed your face very well and you didn’t regret it too much.

Presley then went through her first choosing ceremony but came back afterwards to tell you all about it. The same happened to Fate and she was chosen and didn’t come back. You really hope that she got a nice, good looking Alpha that will treat her well. The same happened to Fate and only you were left until you were picked for your first “choosing ceremony”…

#supernatural #dean winchester supernatural #dean winchester spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester series #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #alpha dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #abo dynamics #omega reader #alpha dean x omega reader

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inamindfarfaraway · 1 year

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I’ll never get over how Twisted is so good at setting something up comedically and then using it dramatically. The Sultan’s… ah, infertility problem is the obvious example, but there are more.

Like how the people of the kingdom hate Ja’far and blame him for all their troubles despite him being nothing but polite and affable and having devoted his life to helping them. This is presented as funny, with the contrast between his unfailing courtesy and the sheer intensity and illogicality of their vitriol, from the very first moments of the show: “And all the grateful citizens will say to me -” (to a cheerful tune echoing “Belle”) “Fuck you!” “Fuck you!” etc..

But then we see him prepared to destroy whatever’s left of his reputation beyond repair in order to rise up from his lowest point and save everyone. He asks himself with tears in his eyes, “Who cares if no one will ever mourn me?” And we have to process that he has no friends; hasn’t for possibly well over a decade; has instead been relentlessly bullied and slandered for years on end; and is completely resigned to dying alone, forever condemned for crimes he didn’t commit and not even posthumously receiving any of the gratitude, respect or love he deserves. Which really isn’t funny at all. It’s just tragic. And to further taint those earlier scenes, the flashback sequence has revealed that he used to be popular because of his compassion and sense of justice, and calling everyone he meets “friend” is a now-incongruous holdover from that happier time.

Or Aladdin being a serial sexual predator of teenagers. His extreme libido and misogyny are established early on. We learn that he has sexual relationships with much younger women and girls very frequently, manipulating and isolating them, viewing them as disposable objects for his own pleasure and callously abandoning them once he’s satisfied. Yet despite how inherently horrifying that is, he’s so stupidly overconfident, shamelessly sleazy and simply fun to watch that he’s overall a lighthearted villain for a predominantly lighthearted show. It’s impossible to take sexual advances like “Hey babe, it’s such a beautiful night - take off your clothes” seriously. From admonishments (“‘Cause you stole my daughter’s hymen”) to warnings (“A song is a dick in sheep’s clothing!”), this subject is a source of far more comedy than drama on the whole.

But then he says coldly, “I’m a thief; I take what I want” and restrains the sixteen-year-old Princess by force holding a knife. That’s a rape threat. This is a serial rapist. Holy shit, I’ve been laughing at a serial rapist seducing a child.

And of course, there’s “Why did my Mummy have to die?” “Mine too!” “Mine too!” “Mine too!” “Mine too!” “Mine too!” as a crack at Disney’s trend of dead parents, followed by the genuinely emotional revelation that one of the main characters, a parody Disney princess, has a dead mother.

You know? I just think it’s cool, and a very good way to balance and progress the tone. There isn’t a clear delineation between funny stuff and serious stuff, just different lenses on the same ideas, characters and themes. Some stories have designated comic relief characters that disappear or take a backseat for dramatic moments, but in Starkid shows everyone can be comic and dramatic when it’s appropriate.

#starkid twisted #twisted: the untold story of a royal vizier #twisted the untold story of a royal vizier #twisted #starkid twisted meta #twisted spoilers #starkid twisted spoilers

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cowboy-heart · 20 days

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'hell hath no fury like a child scorned' - an original poem about my love and reverence for trans women, and my anger at trying to be turned against them

(ID in read more)

[Images ID: an original poem titled 'hell hath no fury like a child scorned':

I learnt early not a woman but a child to stare at the changing room floor, to always be near the exit door, to not even look at my own clumsy undressing hands to stand in the corner to not say a word. when surrounded by cis women, why am I always fourteen again? not a woman but an adult able to protect all but my self.

why do people think women cannot do harm? the weapon of a so-called feminist radical and full of hate cisgender defiance insistence now on state compliance, and yet I, who you say is a woman has never felt safe – not because of the prying eyes of those women you call men no no not because of them.

not a woman but a child staring down at the sticky bathroom floor, walking fast trying to be small, voices pause at my passing, eyes glare like a hand on a hilt. I wait far longer than I need to hiding behind the door of my bathroom stall just to make sure they’re gone.

you cannot will not ask me that inane insane what is a woman, then? when you leave children like me in the gutter excluded from your so-called womanhood. I was not a woman but a child when my body was defiled not by those who you mark as enemies but those you say are victims. you say a period is a woman made, a hymen torn is a woman born, and yet when I looked at a shattered person in that smudged bathroom mirror the tears that fell were that of a child not a woman.

what is a woman? an arbitrary contradictory social class you say grouped by biology by reproductive oppression and yet when I was a woman by your ridiculous definitions I too was denied your precious spaces a dyke, a butch, too alike a man denied womanhood and now oh now here you return now pretending to be on my side expecting me to be your perfect little victim that needs protection when you never cared before to betray those who only ever loved me welcomed me for your cause of control.

I will tell you this and listen close for I do not like to repeat myself: save your bootlicking manipulations your transparent faux-concern for lesbians trans women have taught me far far more about solidarity, safety, protection, community, love than any cis woman ever did.

end images ID].

#original poetry #poetry #writeblr #my writing #image described #writing #described #trans #trans poetry #trans writing #lesbian #lesbian writing #lesbian poetry #poetblr #transbian

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burningvelvet · 10 days

Text

Romance by Edgar Allan Poe (1831 version)

Romance, who loves to nod and sing,

With drowsy head and folded wing,

Among the green leaves as they shake

Far down within some shadowy lake,

To me a painted paroquet

Hath been — a most familiar bird —

Taught me my alphabet to say —

To lisp my very earliest word

While in the wild-wood I did lie

A child — with a most knowing eye.

Succeeding years, too wild for song,

Then roll'd like tropic storms along,

Where, tho' the garish lights that fly

Dying along the troubled sky.

Lay bare, thro' vistas thunder-riven,

The blackness of the general Heaven,

That very blackness yet doth fling

Light on the lightning's silver wing.

For, being an idle boy lang syne,

Who read Anacreon, and drank wine,

I early found Anacreon rhymes

Were almost passionate sometimes —

And by strange alchemy of brain

His pleasures always turn'd to pain —

His naivete to wild desire —

His wit to love — his wine to fire —

And so, being young and dipt in folly

I fell in love with melancholy,

And used to throw my earthly rest

And quiet all away in jest —

I could not love except where Death

Was mingling his with Beauty's breath —

Or Hymen, Time, and Destiny

Were stalking between her and me.

O, then the eternal Condor years

So shook the very Heavens on high,

With tumult as they thunder'd by;

I had no time for idle cares,

Thro' gazing on the unquiet sky!

Or if an hour with calmer wing

Its down did on my spirit fling,

That little hour with lyre and rhyme

To while away — forbidden thing!

My heart half fear'd to be a crime

Unless it trembled with the string.

But now my soul hath too much room —

Gone are the glory and the gloom —

The black hath mellow'd into grey,

And all the fires are fading away.

My draught of passion hath been deep —

I revell'd, and I now would sleep —

And after-drunkenness of soul

Succeeds the glories of the bowl —

An idle longing night and day

To dream my very life away.

But dreams — of those who dream as I,

Aspiringly, are damned, and die:

Yet should I swear I mean alone,

By notes so very shrilly blown,

To break upon Time's monotone,

While yet my vapid joy and grief

Are tintless of the yellow leaf —

Why not an imp the greybeard hath,

Will shake his shadow in my path —

And even the greybeard will o'erlook

Connivingly my dreaming-book.

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battybriefs · 1 year

Text

Remember kids, it's only grooming when it's gay.

But for real heres personal story time. Let's talk about actual grooming.

I grew up in the Mormon church in the 90s and early 2000s. Like a good child, I participated in all the church activities including the young women's program. My parents wanted me to do it, i was told the church leaders were good people so I didnt question anything.

While the guys in the boyscouts and young mens program were learning survival skills, learning woodworking, learning how to fix cars, and learning financial literacy ... we were learning to do our makeup, can food, bake bread, sew clothes, cook large meals, and learn about changing diapers. It was hammered in our heads from a young age that our entire purpose in life was to get married, serve the husband, have kids and raise a family.

I remember when I was a Beehive, around 13 or 14, our ward was invited to participate in a fashion show for one of the local bridal stores. They dressed all the young women up, did our makeup and hair, put us in wedding dresses, and invited all the men in the ward to come watch us runway walk in the cultural hall. I was a literal child. I didnt even have tıts yet. Men in their 60s and 70s in our ward came to watch us parade around in our little wedding gowns. That's straight up a pedopagent and grooming child brides, y'all, and I didn't even realize it because things like that were so normalized in the church.

I remember sitting in the bishops office interviewing for my first temple reccomend so I could participate in the young women's activity to do baptisms for the dead. He asks me if I live by the laws of chastity. I was young, naive, sheltered and didn't even know what the word chastity meant. I remember him aggressively, explicitly asking me questions about my virginity- had I ever kissed a boy, touched a boy, thought about a boy, touched myself, touched a girl, thought about a girl, felt tingly down there, had a hymen. He kept asking me over and over if I was sure about my answers, and would elaborate on what he meant like he was fishing for a specific answer. It felt so dirty and invasive. In hind sight it felt more like he was trying to get spank bank material than trying to find out if I was being a "good girl".

Fast forward a few years. Im in Junior High, probably about 15 years old. I'm a closeted homo sitting next to my girlfriend in church, trying my damndest to hold my tongue and not let people catch on that I was crying. The young woman's lesson was about a woman's worth.

They opened up by talking about how we're getting old enough to go to college in a few years and that that's great, but a career and college education should be a hobby and not a goal. They stressed that we shouldn't put our educations and careers as a priority over finding a man, getting married in the temple, and starting a family. They said as soon as we found a man, we needed to drop out and become stay at home mothers. It was the mans duty to provide for the family. We were told that the reason God sent women to this earth to serve men and raise families, and that it was a divine and sacred calling.

The second half was about how lesbians and gay people were sent by the devil to destroy families. We were told if we "struggled with same sex attraction" we needed to pray, repent and try harder to be straight. That we needed to tell the bishop so they could help us get gay conversion therapy. That even if we liked girls, we needed to find a man to marry and bear his children. They actively encouraged gay men and women to catfish straight partners and trick them into thinking you loved them with the purpose of bearing children. Can you imagine how fucking awful it would be to fall in love and marry a person thinking they felt the same way, only to find out they're gay and living a lie so they don't go to hell?

The church advocating "its ok to be gay but you have to be celibate and single for the rest of your life" was a change the church made a few years later when Prop 8 passed and their members started leaving in hoards.

Meanwhile I've been to drag shows since I was in high-school. It's just a bunch of people with great makeup skills doing lavish impressions of Lady Gaga and Freddy Mercury.

Why is a drag show considered grooming but telling actual children that theyre going to be mommies and daddies when they grow up not? Why is it grooming if a trans person is out in public doing something mundane like grocery shopping, but it isn't grooming watching television shows that has love triangle plotlines that revolve around teenagers making out and exploring their sexuality? Why is it grooming when a children's show has a character with two daddies but not grooming when the children's show character has a mom and a dad?

If people really give a shit about grooming, they need to start in their own backyard. Start by deconstructing straight representation in media. Start by asking why its ok to joke that a toddler is going to be a ladies man when he grows up. Start by asking why child beauty pagents even exist. Start by looking at how your religion teaches and enforces sexuality. Start with comprehensive and age appropriate lessons about the human body and consent with little Suzy so when uncle Bob is being inappropriate at the family reunion she has the knowlege and tools to know whats going on, to assert her boundaries, and the confidence to tell another grownup what's going on.

#lgbtq community #lgbtqia #trans rights #exmormon #exmo #athiest #lgbt #lgbt representation #drag queen

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jinx-on-mars-19xx · 9 months

Text

The Demon's Altar

Not Natural

The Devil's Trap

Holy Water

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: finally a little porn with this plot! SPN inspired, ABO dynamics (slick, heats, knots), d/s dynamics, demon Kells, Hunter Dom, angry Dom, needy Dom, a little Tom time, commanding and careful Kells, fingering, masterbation, teases, insults, body worship, biting, virginity taking (breaking a hymen), sex (sort of), blood play, ominous ending, happy boys ⚰️ rating: explicit

Dom's heart raced and his eyes widened as he watched the road ahead of him. In the distance he could see the lights that promised a mid-American small town oasis and a rest but now it offered so much more. He could not fuck the demon.

"You really shouldn't." A voice echoed through the car and for the third time in less than an hour his tires swerved.

"Wha' the fuck!" He cursed, his fingers spasming around the wheel as he eased his foot from the gas. If people didn't stop he was going to crash Tallulah and then he'd have to start hunting them. "You can't tell me wha' to do." He huffed and while he knew he resembled a petulant child he didn't care. He'd been driving all day and he was peckish and wet- which he was finding more uncomfortable by the moment as it soaked slowly through his pants and cooled in places. How did women handle that?

"Are you really going to let the demon fuck you? The demon Dom? You do know he's one of the strongest left, yes? He might be a Prince of Hell but I honestly can't tell. That's how powerful he is." Tom was gesturing wildly enough to be distracting and the hunter was already annoyed. He wasn't sure how much he could take from the only person he could really call his friend. "I can't discover how strong he is- me! Do you know what that feels like? He's something strange Dom." Tom kept steamrolling the conversation but the Hunter had learned long ago to let him rant out his worries. It came from love for him he was sure.

"Ya done? I'm sorry he so special or wha'ever tha' you of all fings can't figure 'im out but fuck Tom- I ain't never said I'll fuck 'im! He's a monster. And chill bruv, ain't no princes left tha' I know of. Yellow eyed wankers yeah? Nah. Kells got like…" He trailed off with a shiver, just thinking of the beast's stare had a fresh trickle start between his legs. Fuck. He cleared his throat and shifted in the seat. He refused to squirm. He refused. "Like a storm in the evening or summat. Black clouds over a lightning filled blue sky." His voice went soft as he stared off in the distance and wondered where exactly his- the demon was. He didn't have a number to text but he felt a pull if he let himself go quiet. It wasn't anything special, just his normal instincts. Obviously.

"Yeah, certainly not going to fuck him." Tom sighed, his forehead hitting the cool glass of the window. "You're so smitten you'll let him make love to you!" The disdain was obvious in his mother hen voice and Dom was happy for the dark when he felt his cheeks flame.

"Don't talk so nasty. You know me Tom! You know me better 'an tha'. He's disgusting. Bastard roofied me."

"Yeah I do know you, I was there Dom, or do you forget so easily? You're drawn to the darkness. You can't help it." His voice went low and almost sad but it still held an edge of annoyance.

Dominic was bloody well tired of being judged and talked down to, he was a grown ass man who had a longer list of monsters killed than people he bedded and he thought that was what truly mattered. How could someone he thought of as a friend think of him like that? After being close so long? "He's jus' fucking 'elping me, he 'ates the bastard as much as I do. Ain't nuffin more. And even if 'ere is? Me choice. I'm not a child anymore, don't talk to me like I am. I ain't 'eard from you in months and ya show up for tha'? Fuck off Tom. Don't make me make you!" He knew he was almost growling but he was so tired of feeling like no one trusted him to control his own life. Even Kells was an asshole. Oh bollocks, he was close to that time of month he got more emotional and tingly wasn't he? He could feel his eyes burning with tears.

Tom disappeared with a scoff that felt like it echoed longer than it should have and Dom grumbled when that instinct inside him told him he was close to wherever the beast had taken his wallet to. He'd hoped for a few minutes to relax after that interaction but no, within moments he was rolling through the start of the town and pulling into a new no-tell motel. He was so revved up he didn't even notice the name, he just parked in front of the room he could see pot smoke already billowing out of and he slammed his car in park. "Sorry LuLu." He sighed as he threw open the door and stepped out.

Everything ached like it always did but not nearly as badly as he was used to. He didn't even have to pop everything, he just pushed the door closed and took a deep breath before stalking into the open room. "Took you a wh-" Before Kells could finish his sentence Dom was on him, his fingers gripping the front of the demon's shirt, his lips slamming into the beast's. He tasted like weed and copper as if blood were just always present, and under that was a hint of brimstone and ozone. "Woah fuck- um hi?" Kells laughed into the brutal kiss, he was surprised but not. He honestly thought it would take longer to seduce the boy.

"Shut the fuck up. Don't talk." Dom growled, his teeth nipping at his lower lip and tugging as his hands wandered the flat planes of his companion's chest. He didn't want words, words were too loud and too often lies. He needed to feel something good. Something hot and hard and-

Maybe he could fuck the demon.

Kells used his magic to slam the door closed and dim the lights. He'd been hopeful they would end up here but he'd been joking about it in the car. He couldn't stop it though, not when all he could taste was the human and all he could hear were those sweet little whimpers. "You're so fucking wet. Can smell you. Can fucking taste it " He rasped, his lips working kisses down the boy's neck.

"Yeah? You want it? Take it." Dom tried to growl but it came out more a whine. If everyone thought he was going to make bad decisions he didn't want to disappoint them. He was so tired of trying to hide. Of trying to be good. He wanted to feel everything, he wanted to hurt.

The demon stepped back as if he'd been burned, he didn't mean to listen into the boy's mind but it was as if he couldn't shield himself. The kid was so loud whether he was speaking out loud or not. Dom pushed forward, he was still trying to get his hands on his bare skin but something felt off. Which he hated, he was a demon for fuck's sake. Of course he should have sex for the wrong reasons. "Damnit Dom, sit!" He huffed, curling his palms around the punk's arms so he could direct him to the foot of the bed. The kid glared, his gaze heavy and annoyed. "Just give me a fucking second." He panted even though he didn't have to breathe.

Dom answered him by climbing backwards onto the bed, his spine arching as he worked open his pants and slowly pushed them down. The scent of the human's slick was like a bat to his face but he didn't want to fuck this up. He didn't want to make him feel even worse. He couldn't help watching as those leather pants slid down his plush hips and the kid kicked off his steel toe boots to push everything else off. His boxer briefs were still on but soaked through and the sight brought the demon to his knees. He felt like he was worshiping at the altar of his new god but he hadn't served anyone in centuries and he really didn't think he should start now.

"Stop it." His voice shook as he stared up at the boy spreading his legs and sticking his hand under his waistband. Fuck. "But you don't play with yourself?" He meant for it to be a statement but it went up at the end and he almost felt like crying. The human was a work of art. He could tempt a saint to sin and Kells was no saint.

"Maybe for you I do. I'm wet Kells, can't you 'ear it? You a demon ain't you? Sin wiv me? Please make me feel summat?" Dom was surprised at his own conviction, he'd sworn off monsters and sex in general but here he was, trying to drown out the voices with a new kind of scream. He had always been rebellious but this felt different. It was a need under his skin. An ache in his core.

"I won't hurt you." Kells vowed as he pulled himself up on the bed and sat on his folded knees. His pants felt so tight they were making his cock ache, but he was scared to remove them. Maybe he was scared to give into the boy. He might just lose himself in the process. He took a deep breath and his choice was made. He couldn't touch but he couldn't leave. He could still taste the human on his tongue and he craved it more than he craved revenge. At least for the moment. His fingers snapped and their clothes were removed and for the first time in his so long life he felt truly exposed.

Dom whimpered as the cool smoke heavy air touched his overheated skin. His eyes danced over the newly naked beast in his bed and he was surprised at how much he wanted him. The demon was gorgeous, ink covering most of his skin, his body thin but packed with muscle. He was drenched in sweat and watching him like both the predator and the prey. "Oof." He whispered when his eyes wandered between the monster's legs. He had a dick to match the title, hard and throbbing it was almost the length of his thighs and leaking at the tip. "You're cut?" He didn't know why he was surprised or why it mattered but somehow it got him even hotter. He let his legs fall open as his core tingled and dripped a puddle under him.

"You're not. Fuck. Can I-" Kells clamped his jaw shut, he couldn't ask if he could touch because he wasn't going to. With the boy bare he could tell something he couldn't before. The scent of his slick was sweet and hot and he knew the human was in heat. Or at least about to be. He didn't know what he was asking for. He wasn't exactly an alpha anymore but he didn't know what would happen. "Can I see you play?"

Dom's brows furrowed at the question. He thought Kells would take him hard and fast and make sure he couldn't think but no. The demon was almost… kind? Sensitive? A small part of him was thankful after seeing the monster between his legs. He hadn't had anything inside his pussy before, not even a finger. He wasn't sure he should start with that. "Tell me?"

"Shit." Blue eyes slammed closed and when they opened again they were true form- a stormy black and blue light. Kells gripped his cock, if he didn't touch himself he thought he'd go truly insane but he could do that. He could direct him. He hoped. "One finger. Tease yourself. Feel how wet you are." His voice was gravel but that was alright, it seemed to get the boy even wilder.

Dom obeyed, his fingertip running between his folds. The demon was right, he was so drenched it was audible in the quiet room. "F-feels good. More?"

"Pushy bitch, huh?" The beast teased. "Gather some on your hand?" When the boy did as he was directed he felt his need grow. Fuck, if he obeyed so pretty now, how would he act on his cock? When his palm was shiny wet Kells leaned forward and wrapped his hand around the omega's, taking as much of the slick as he could. His fist curled around his shaft and the boy watched every second. He couldn't help smirking at the way he felt appreciated. It was obviously affecting the human, his arousal was evident in the way his dick jerked against his belly and his heat scent got even stronger in the room. "Are you a virgin there, Domie? Like… completely?"

Dom whimpered and nodded. He knew what the demon was asking and he was surprised how badly he wanted to let him in. "Fuck me?"

"Not yet."

"Need it." He whimpered, his hips rolling as he watched the monster jack himself off as if he could feel him inside.

"Yeah you might. But no. I'll give you a treat if you're good. But I'm not fucking you yet." He commanded and hoped the dominant side of him, the long buried alpha was still strong enough to make it stick.

"Pussy." Dom snapped but he didn't mean it. At least not all of him did. He rolled his eyes and started playing again, his finger slipping inside himself until it hit skin.

"Wait. Use your other hand to jack off. I don't want you hurt." The beast purred and the boy arched a brow but obeyed. A soft noise escaped Kells as he watched the Hunter tease his foreskin back, revealing his shiny pink cockhead. Fuck, he wanted to taste everything. He waited until Dom found a comfortable pace and he matched it, his own palm moving quick over his twitching shaft. He was more desperate to cum than he'd been in so long but he wouldn't until the right time. He was millennia old, he would not bust too soon because of a sexy little human twink.

Dom's lashes fluttered, his lips parting on a gasp. Almost without meaning to his finger started pumping inside himself, pressing against the skin before pulling back. The back of his mind pictured the demon's dick trying to slip inside and the image made the pain turn to pleasure. He couldn't believe what he was doing but so much of him never wanted to stop. "Kells-" He whined, the sound of his companion's movements pushing him closer. He tried to keep watching but sometimes he lost track. Nothing had ever felt like that before. He was overwhelmed.

Kells moaned at the sound of his name and his movements stuttered. He couldn't help crawling closer until he was pressed between those thick spread thighs, his cock so close to the kid he could touch him. If he wanted to. His gaze locked on to the punk's hand, his fingers were coming out covered in red and more than anything he wanted a taste. But not yet. His supernatural hearing tuned into the messy noise and he waited for the moment. For the- "Fuck!" they cursed in unison as the soft pop sounded and more blood rushed out with the slick.

Dom whined and shuddered, the pain was intense but the rapture was stronger and he tried to scoot closer to his new friend. Kells was so close to fucking him but he couldn't make him. All he could do was obey. His finger dove deeper and he added a second, his body jerking like a live wire when he ghosted over his spot. "Good boy. Keep going." The demon growled, his stormy eyes intent on Dom's cunt and his hand moved faster. The beast was close.

The kid obeyed him, his hips bouncing as he fucked down on his own fingers. Kells could feel himself drooling at the scent but he held himself back. He could find a little control. "Close?" He almost begged. The Hunter had all but forgotten to touch his dick and instead all his focus was on his newly discovered g-spot. The demon had never seen anyone get so fucking wet. He thought he saw him nod but he couldn't be sure but he still made himself say- "Stop. Spread your fingers. Hold your pussy open for me."

Dom cried out at the demand but couldn't help but do what he was told. It was physically painful to quit stroking his pleasure center but he pulled his fingers mostly free, his body trembling with his need. He didn't know exactly what the beast meant but he spread his fingers until the stretch ached. He tried to still himself but he thought he might lose it until the demon moved closer and the tip of his cock pressed against his hole. "Oh? Please? Fuck me? Please?" He never begged. Dom refused to beg and he certainly wasn't but… it was close. He was desperate for more.

Kells shook his head but stripped his shaft once- twice- and his orgasm slammed into him so hard he accidentally thrust inside the boy a few inches. The moment his cockhead was swallowed by tight wet heat he shook and moaned, biting his lip hard enough to bleed. His palm slid down near the base of his dick and he felt something he hadn't in so long. It wasn't full by any means but his knot was there, pulsing in time with his heart.

Dom broke as soon as Kells slipped inside him far enough to tease his spot, the stretch was too much but the first rush of white heat had him spilling for the beast. The pleasure was so intense and it took him a moment to realize he wasn't just cumming- he was gushing for his companion. He certainly wasn't aware that was possible. "Oh God Kells-"

"Not quite." The monster couldn't help but tease. Whatever he was going to say next was cut off as the human pushed himself to sit up and fingers tangled in his hair, dragging him forward for a sloppy rough kiss. Dom sucked his bleeding lip between his teeth and he bit down harder and Kells could feel more of his blood rushing through the boy. Fuck, what had he gotten himself into? The more Dom sucked the more he came, it felt like he had centuries of need backed up inside him that had waited just for that moment and maybe it had. Maybe he had. He knew he should tell him to be careful but he couldn't. He couldn't even be careful himself. He didn't know what would happen the next day or even in the next five minutes but for the moment it didn't matter. He had his omega.

They were both so wrapped up in each other they didn't feel the eyes on them from outside the warded hotel room. They didn't hear the lightning that forewarned the true beast. They didn't realize that someone else had felt the moment the boy was taken. Perhaps not claimed, but taken. The monster couldn't get to them anyway but his rage could build. They were honestly so lost to each other that for just one night, they didn't care.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 🖤

Have a little porn. Just a little, as a treat. What is Tom? Is he a ghost, a witch, a voice in Dom's head? Why are the boys so drawn to each other? How is a demon an alpha? Why isn't he fully one anymore? I hope you enjoyed this, I'm still sick but I wanted to get something out. I hope it's good ⚰️🖤

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savingyou · 2 years

Text

Okay to preface: I’m a trans man and this is my opinion, and if you disagree or want to call me transphobic please go away and never come back and also look up the definition of “opinion” because it will help you.

I think Dean Winchester is trans and here’s why:

In the pilot episode we see a picture of young Dean, John, and young Sam, both wearing hats and plaid and sitting on the Impala. Dean is shown with shoulder length black hair and this is my first piece of evidence for trans!Dean.

Now, i know that boys can have long hair and I have seen plenty of little boys with long hair. Dean looks to be 12 in the picture, and both John and Sam have short hair. So we know they can afford haircuts (or are at least able to get them) and while Dean may have just styled his hair like this, i think that it was long because he wasn’t out yet.

The picture in question:

The next picture i want to talk about is this one:

Which shows us pre-series Dean also had longer hair but he looks much more masculine in this picture than in the previous one. This fake ID, along with a few others are more evidence for me. Dean has a fake drivers license where the sex reads female, and while thats probably a typo, we know that Dean and Sam’s fake IDs have been good enough to fool hundreds of people, so they have to be good fake IDs - meaning typos shouldn’t happen.

Also in the pilot episode, a cop asks Dean “you have anything that’s real?” And Dean jokingly replies “My boobs.”

And while i know that this line is intended as a joke, i also know that Dean uses humor to tell the truth sometimes. He will joke about something when he can’t talk seriously about it. We see examples of this all over season one, when Sam is grieving Jess. But as a trans person myself i also joke about my chest (to an extent, i personally dont like to bring attention to it), and it’s in Dean’s character to do that too. (I also want to mention that if i had just finished healing from top surgery and someone asked me that question i would probably say the same thing, just because its fun to finally say you dont have boobs anymore - and i also think dean got top surgery immediately pre-series, which is another reason for him to be away from John for so long and to have “lost” him)

During the three first seasons, we never see Dean’s naked chest - i believe there’s only one time in season 3 during Mystery Spot where we see his shoulder in the shower, but not his chest - which i think could be a way to hide top surgery scars. It’s only after he comes back to life in season 4 that we see his naked chest, where he’s confused by the absence of (hellhound) scars because Castiel healed him - also this could be a place where you could say Dean got bottom surgery, i.e., Castiel gave him a dick/fully functioning biologically male genitalia.

In season 4, the episode “Monster Movie” he says he’s been “re-hymenated” which is another joke, but also I don’t know of a single man who knows what a hymen actually is, much less a man who would actually say that to convey his virginity status.

Also the way the man dresses. I mean, he’s so hyper masculine that it feels like an extreme overcorrection. I did the same thing when i came out. He wears plaid, henleys, and jeans under big leather and army jackets. The man wears layers like he’s hiding three tits under there.

For the sex argument, all i have to say is toys (or the aforementioned holy bottom surgery). If Dean wants to fuck someone he can wear a strap on. Its not that difficult. We never see him naked below the waist so he could be wearing one, you dont know. Also does it matter what his genitals really look like? No. We never see them so its all just speculation.

I know dean isnt trans in canon because he’s fathered a child (Emma in season 7) and apparently the explanation of magic doesn’t explain how that can be possible between two biological women (eggs and uteruses).

Anyway. There are plenty of reasons that Dean can be trans. Sorry this was so long. I posted something similar to this and someone thought i was being transphobic i guess? So i wanted to try again with the added preface of “this is my opinion/headcanon and you dont have to think I’m right” to hopefully deter people from saying I’m being insensitive.

So yeah trans Dean, i love it and i wish the cw or any tv network had the guts to actually do that, even if the actor is cis, i dont care i just want a trans character. Thank you and good night

#supernatural #dean winchester #trans headcanon #trans dean winchester #trans man #headcanon #this is just my opinion

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whocookedthelastsupper · 4 months

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“Yet by a bizarre and limiting paradox, the emphasis on women's duty of procreation carries no connotations of female sexuality. As women were denied any full part in the process of reproduction, so they were likewise denied any pleasure of participation in the act. In fact, the less they knew about sex, the better, decreed their fathers and keepers; and thus in another reversal of the old mother-centered ways of thought, the highest value shifted from adult womanhood and the pride of fecundity to maiden ignorance. Now the child-bride, the unspoiled female, not-yet-woman, became the finest type; and a small film of atavistic membrane, the hymen, casually deposited by evolution in the recess of every woman's body, was discovered to be her prize possession. Virginity came in with a vengeance as every budding patriarch suddenly realized his divine right to a vacuum-sealed, factory-fresh vagina with built-in hymenal gift-wrapping and purity guarantee.

So powerful was this fetish of virginity that a new ideal gathered momentum, that of preserving it in perpetuity. One early Christian father, St. Jerome, was active in persuading fathers to dedicate their daughters to nunneries at birth, while another, st. Martin of Tours, constantly compared the "pure ungrazed field of virginity" to "the field of marriage torn up by the pigs and cattle of fornication." As this shows, the Christian church had from its origins a particular problem with women's sexuality: "to embrace a woman" wrote Odo of Cluny in the twelfth century, "is to embrace a sack of manure." The "sack of manure" metaphor for women's bodies was an obsession with the early Christians: "If a woman's bowels were cut open," pronounced the monk Roger de Caen, "you would see what filth is covered by her white skin. If a fine crimson cloth covered a pile of foul dung, would anyone be foolish enough to love the dung because of it?"

Yet Christ was born of woman. The solution to this embarrassment was found only after protracted doctrinal councils, when the gruesome hilarity of debating how the divine seed could penetrate the Virgin's hymen, or how Christ could have emerged from her uterus without rupturing the said hymen with his sacred infant head, appears to have gone unnoticed. But one thing was clear. Our Lord, the Son of God, the Redeemer of Man, could not have been born from a sack of shit. The Christian fathers had to protect Mary's purity in order e protect his. The Blessed Virgin Mary, it was decreed, remained a virgin not only before the birth of Christ, but afterward as well. She was unravaged by the bloody mess and pain of childbirth; He was hermetically sealed off from any contact with her filthy and disgusting innards. Nor was this merely a Christian perversion. The compulsive drive of the patriarch not simply to occupy and possess a pure and unspotted vagina but also to emerge from one may be demonstrated from the fact that in addition to Jesus, Buddha, Plato, Quetzalcoatl, Montezuma and Ghenghis Khan all claimed to be virgin-born.

With womanhood reduced to its most immature aspect, man therefore saddles himself with the problem of her regulation and con-trol. What this boils down to, in every case, is a withdrawal of the previous freedoms of adult women, which then traps them in a permanently arrested state of adolescent dependency and as such fulfills all the prescriptions of the patriarch.”

-Rosalind Miles; Who Cooked The Last Supper? The Women’s History of the World

#who cooked the last supper #herstory #patriarchy #religion #womens history #radblr #radfem #radical feminism #radical feminist safe #radical feminists do interact #radical feminists do touch #radical feminists please touch #feminism #feminist literature #radical feminists please interact #radical feminist community #radical feminist literature #radical feminst #radical feminist theory

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 1 year

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Hi Sex Witch, just wanted to ask a sex ed Q if that's ok! I recently started working out after years of being pretty inactive - I walk places and my job is more physical but no real exercise - and since I've started I noticed I had some spotting in my underwear immediately after working out. I havent changed BC or anything and havent had any of the kinds of sex that could cause any vaginal tears. I'm not really worried about it, but I just wanted to check this wasnt something I should bring up with a doctor, unless maybe it doesnt go away after a while? Thanks!

hi anon,

this is an interesting one for sure.

there's a link between physical activity and the hymen tearing, but that tends to happen at a much younger age than you presumably are if you have a job. (if you're some kind of child laborer, my condolences.)

I know some people are probably immediately balking at my mention of the hymen at all, since I've dedicated a not inconsiderable amount of my time both irl and online to talking about how the hymen is mostly bullshit and not a reliable indicator of sexual activity, and those things are true - but it is a real membrane that partially - keyword, partially - cover the vaginal opening at birth. it doesn't so much shatter upon first contact with a sexual apparatus, as many people seem to thing, as pretty gradually wear away and widen over the early years of a person's life, aided by ordinary physical activity. aside from rare cases of imperforate hymens, there's generally no drastic intervention required.

a tangent that I find interesting: historically there's been some real concern surrounding vagina-having young ladies taking part in certain activities for fear that those activities might endanger the hymen. bicycles were considered devastatingly unladylike, because they not only threatened the hymen but also allowed women to go places unsupervised like a bunch of harlots and seemed like they could, maybe, be putting pressure on the clitoris or otherwise simulating sex, which absolutely couldn't happen. there's also a probably apocryphal idea floating around, which I think may have genuinely been popularized by A Song of Ice and Fire, that horseback riding could "break" a hymen and therefore noblewomen were less likely to bleed on their wedding night because they'd grown up on horseback. like many things in Game of Thrones, that one's bullshit.

POINT BEING, there's definitely like.... a connection between spotting and physical activity that exists, but it would be slightly irregular at this phase of your life. (again, unless you're a child who's been put to work in a mine or something, in which case you have bigger problems.) note that irregular doesn't necessarily mean "dangerous" - I honestly love that you're not panicking about this - but if you're bleeding it's usually a sign that something is amiss.

if you're sure it's not a birth control situation or one where bleeding could be caused by sex, it could mean there's some kind of friction or irritation occurring in your vaginal region when you're exercising that's causing a little light bloodshed. there's also a chance that your new workout regiment is causing some kind of hormonal fluctuation in your body - possible, especially if this is something you're still getting used to! this is an especially common stress response if you've got a very low level of body fat and/or you aren't taking in as much food as your body would like; exercise puts a lot of strain on a body that isn't properly nourished!

overall, I would agree with your assessment that this is only something that you need to bring up with a doctor if it doesn't naturally stop - or, of course, if the bleeding suddenly starts getting much heavier or painful.

#sex edventures 2023

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amaretheon · 1 year

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The Gods are LGBTQ Supportive.

Poseidon and Nerites: On The Nature of Animals, 14.28 "Other stories say that Nerites was loved by Poseidon and loved Poseidon in return, and hence this was the origin of Anteros.And so, as I hear, Nerites spent time with Poseidon and when Poseidon drove his chariot above the waves his speed surpassed all the marine beasts, for the fish, dolphins, and tritons rose from the sea, excited and circling and dancing around, all stopped and were left behind.Truly, Nerites was always near, attending him. The waves submitted with reverence for Poseidon, the sea separating and withdrawing. Because Poseidon wished, the beautiful Nerites to be prominent for many reasons, among them swimming."

Nerites’ sisters begged the god Poseidon to change him back, and he obliged. The mighty sea god was smitten from the sight of the boy, and he offered to make him his charioteer. Nerites agreed, and Aelian says they lived together happily ever after as companions and lovers, even mentioning that the word for mutual, requited love – anteros – derives from Poseidon and Nerites’ love affair.

Poseidon and Caenis--Caeneus was originally a woman named Caenis who was transformed into a man[6][7] by the sea-god Poseidon.[8] According to the Greek mythographer Apollodorus, and a scholiast on the Iliad, Poseidon had sex with her, and afterward she asked him to turn her into an invincible man; Poseidon granted her wish.[9][10] According to Acusilaus, whose version is the earliest surviving, Caenis (here spelled Καινή, Caene), after having sex with him, asked Poseidon to turn her into a man so that she would not bear his child, or anyone else's.[11][12] In another version, Poseidon wished to sleep with her, but Caenis made him promise her a favour in exchange for hers; he did, and she asked to be transformed into a man, whereupon he granted her wish, but due to her change he failed to fulfill his own

Poseidon and Pelops-According to Pindar's First Olympian Ode, Pelops, the king of Pisa, once shared "Aphrodite's sweet gifts" with the ocean god himself. Pelops for a time was taken to Olympus by Poseidon and trained to drive the divine chariot.

Zeus and Ganymede the cup-bearing god of homosexuality.

Apollyon and his various male lovers: Admetus, Branchus, Carnus, Cinyras, Cyparrissus, Hyacinth, etc. Apollo was also lover to Macedonian Prince Hyakinthos, who died catching a thrown discus, then turned by the god into the hyacinth flower. The Pseudo-Apollodorus also said Apollo had been with Thracian singer Thamyris in the first man-on-man relationship in history. And for those who think same-sex nuptials are a 21st-century invention, Apollo also was in a relationship with Hymen, the god of marriage

Chin and Xochopili the Mayan/Aztec gods of Homosexuality.

Hermes- The wing-heeled messenger of the gods was said in multiple myths to have male lovers. In a variation of the Hyacinth myth, it was Hermes' lover Crocus who was killed by a discus thrown by a god before being turned into a flower. Some myths suggest a romantic relationship between Hermes and the hero Perseus. And while some stories list Daphnis, the inventor of pastoral poetry, as the son of Hermes, other sources claim him to be the god of speed's favorite lover.

Dionysus- Best known as the Greek god of wine, Dionysus was also the god of intersex and transgender people. Male lovers of the god included the satyr Ampelos and the famously handsome Adonis. He also once made a journey to Hades and was guided by the shepherd Prosymnus, who led the way in exchange for the chance to make love to the party god. When Prosymnus died before that deal would be consummated, the god created a wood phallus to ritually fulfill the promise, according to research by a number of Christian historians, including Hyginus and Arnobius.

"Perhaps the earliest literary reference to an intersex person concerns this child of Hermes and love goddess Aphrodite who as a youth encountered the nymph Salmacis, who attempted to seduce the youth and asked the gods that their forms be permanently joined. The creature of both sexes was frequently depicted in classical art as a figure with womanly breasts and form but with male genitalia. Above: Francois Joseph Navez, The Nymph Salmacis and Hermaphroditus."

"Twin sister to Apollo, the goddess was by differing accounts a nearly asexual virgin or a lesbian with many nymph lovers, including Cyrene, Atalanta, and Anticleia as well as moon goddess Dictynna. By some accounts, she was Callisto's lover before the nymph was raped by Zeus. Researcher Johanna Hypatia-Cybelaia writes that lesbian and gay devotees worshipped her as Artemis Orthia, and that lesbian port Pamphilia referred to the goddess in hymn as Artemis Pergaea."

Heru/Horus and Set/Seth

While the goddess of love is not identified prominently as lesbian herself, the Greek poet Sappho (as in sapphic) of Lesbos (yes, as in lesbian) told many homoerotic tales and named Aphrodite as the greatest patron and ally of lesbians and homosexuals within the Greek pantheon of gods.

The Egyptian goddess Isis/Aset/Auset, also worshipped by Greeks, is known for solving a gender identity issue of yore. Iphis was born female but raised male by his mother, who concealed the truth because her husband wanted a male heir. Ultimately, Iphis fell in love with Ianthe, a woman, and was betrothed to her. Before the wedding, Iphis prayed in the Temple of Isis for a solution, and voila! she became a he.

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