#...to engage in 'harmful' behaviour...

[uncanny-tranny]

Part of harm reduction is recognizing that abstinence or sobriety, whenever these terms are applicable, is not the inherent goal for so many people. Forcing complete abstinence or sobriety can absolutely be detrimental, which is why we must not idealize either one or force it on people. It should be an option, yes, but that does not mean it is the only option or the only option worth pursuing.

[transmascutena]

Good evening (or morning, depending on your timezone).

Absolutely no hate, but I want to ask how you reconcile your enjoyment of the show with the reality of what Ikuhara has (most likely) done?/gen

I understand Death of the Author, but what drew me to Utena in the first place was its theme of critiquing the patriarchy and calling out abuse, which feels somewhat hypocritical now. I resonate with this show, and many of Ikuhara's other shows, on a personal level, which is why I am especially disappointed with the accusations since I now have to wonder how that reflects onto me as a person...?

Obviously I don't know you personally, but you seem to spend a lot of time and care on your analyses (which are great btw) so have you also struggled with this?

Again, there is like zero judgement when I say this and I'm absolutely not trying to come off as hostile (in case that is how this reads). And, there is no pressure on you to answer this and I'll completely understand if you want to ignore the ask.

Thanks.

hi, i've been thinking about this as well since yesterday, and it is kind of tough to figure out how to feel about. i think it's important to remember that ikuhara did not make revolutionary girl utena alone, for one. he had a whole team of writers and animators and producers and so on, that it would not exist without. obviously ikuhara played a big part in the show's creation, but far from the only one (if it was, i have no doubt it would be very very different), and . idk what my point really is here but i don't think his actions reflect on the show as a whole. it still is what it is, it still says the same important things about our society's systems of abuse that we've always talked about, even if the director didn't understand it or didn't want to understand it or however you want to put it. and by extension i don't think it reflects on to all the people who have enjoyed the show, who have seen their experiences in it, who have learned from it more about how this kind of abuse works and so on. and i think we need to be aware of what has (allegedly, but again, i believe it) happened, but i don't necessarily think we need to write off the show just because he had a hand in making it. because it is just as important as we've always known it to be, you know? though i think there are (as there has always been and there always is in anything) elements of the show to be critical of, and maybe some new things as well in light of this. i'll have to think about it more.

[lawrenceofbessarabia]

boy i wish i knew how to apply the water filter to posts on mobile because i scrolled past the most waterboardable dreck just now

[bionic-penis]

Dawg if I can be pawfectly honest like bare my soul honest um I'm kinda sick of this life like I just want to crawl under ground and decompose there 😁

[dashitsxx]

duty | gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary. Forced into a loveless marriage was the future of a lady of nobility. Being engaged to a man you never met was your fate. You were destined to be a doomed wife, doing the duties of pleasuring your husband solely for just simply being the daughter of a greedy and corrupt father. Yet, at the wedding night, the man you'll be wedded with, somehow shifted your perspective and unveiled what a real marriage is.

genre. angst, smut, 18+

word count. 6.2k

warnings. arranged marriage. historical au. explicit smut. toxic family. mentions of dissent. mentions of traditional gender roles and historical norms. mention of punishment (once). oral receiving (reader). multiple creampies. petnames. jealousy (if you squint). dominance (?). sadistic tendencies (gojo). missionary. cowgirl (ride that cock girl). praising (gojo). gojo calling himself daddy (....). quite naive (reader but that's okay). gojo is actually sweet.

disclaimer. Please note that this work is entirely fictional. It is not intended to condone, glorify, or encourage any form of violence, illegal activity, or harmful behaviour. All characters (credits to the manga artists), scenarios, and events are products of the author's imagination and/or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual persons or real events is purely coincidental. The purpose of this work is to entertain and provoke thought, not to promote harmful behaviour.

notes. has been sitting on my drafts far too long here you go sluts and i'm finally back for real, university sucks ass

"You may kiss the bride."

These are the words you never once thought you'd hear at age 20. Yet these are words that will truly seal your fate as a bride of the groom—no, as a wife of a husband. You never once thought your future would turn out to be in the situation you are in. An unknown beginning that was never introduced in the dreams of your future. A door that those old hags and ogres forced you to walk into while they always say—you quote, "This is the real future of a young lady of the L/N family."

Hell to that damn future! They should have thrown you on the streets rather than trample your dignity. You'd rather be a bride of a bear than be betrothed to a man who'd used you as a breeder for heirs.

However, once the man you've never seen and known pulls the veil off your face, you'd officially be gesturing your commitment as a wife to your new husband. Well, you can break that off… but in the current world you were born in, the veil also symbolizes that a woman is willing to lose her innocence to her lifetime partner.

Oh, how you hate women including you are tied to the role of a martyr wife in a marriage.

You just prayed to the heavens that the groom you are to be wedded with was born with a godly appearance that you will probably succumb to. At least, you'll have some dignity left in you.

The delicate lace veil blurred the sight of the man who held your hand on the altar with you as he slowly lifted the bridal accessory over your head. You take in a quiet hitch of breath, which makes you close your eyes and tightly grip the bouquet of lilies of the valley in nervousness. You waited in anticipation as once you felt the cold air kissed your skin.

You slowly flutter your eyes open. Your orbs widened as your lips almost let out a gasp when you saw the groom—no, your husband. Suddenly, the world around you becomes blurred, your eyes clearly focused on the enticing beauty of the familiar man.

It was none other than the famous and most desirable bachelor, Satoru Gojo. You never expected it to be him.

The man who was revered for his breathtaking beauty, applauded for his sword-fighting skills, and desired for his mind-boggling prowess in the sheets. The things you've heard from rumors yet you never believed them.

Although, there was one thing the rumor was right about.

Once you see him, you'll be baited by his beauty entrapment. This man was one of the most pulchritudinous beings in this botched universe. His snow-white hair perfectly complemented his eyes' bright blue color, which resembled heaven and oceans. Perhaps, even the skies. A fair skin and subtle red tones that painted his cheeks and lips.

It was your first time looking at him this close.

At the moment, you'd almost forgotten you were getting married. Your cheeks began to heat up, so you forced yourself to break out of your reverie. You strayed your gaze from him, embarrassed at your dumbfoundedness.

Gojo stared at you intently as the corner of his lips twitched slightly. You were startled at the distance between the both of you, yet he leaned further towards you, making you gulp at the closing proximity between you and him.

His eyes are too enchanting for you to gape into that it took the man to try to keep his laughter. Then his deep voice cuts the silence, "Lady Y/N, I think it is time we should seal one of the parts of our promise."

You almost accidentally choked on your saliva. Oh, you should slap yourself for your impudence. You are facing the most wanted bachelor of the empire.

Get your head in reality.

Even so, you've never kissed before. You are quite afraid of learning about your inexperience in that certain field and you don't want to disappoint the expert.

And the Satoru Gojo being your first kiss was a whole new experience and sensation to you. You have no clue how kissing works, which is why you'll let him take the lead. Your cheeks reddened further as you bit your bottom lip.

"Then place your lips on mine," you spoke.

A smirk appeared on his rosy-colored lips and captured your lips in a somewhat needy kiss. He places his huge hand on your lower back and the other on your nape, pulling you to his warmth. Because of the abrupt pull, your hands accidentally came in contact with his sculpted chest (which you felt through his clothing).

What the hell?

You were about to pull away, but Gojo pulled you even closer, tightening his hold. He tilted his head, gaining more access to your mouth. You quietly whimpered at his actions.

Then, roars of small cheers and claps echoed through the whole wedding hall. Satisfaction was spread over the faces of the crowd, staring at the newly married couple.

Gojo pulled away after a few seconds, leaving a trail of burning ache over your lips. Your plush cheeks were still flushed red as you tore your gaze from him. You were too embarrassed to face him after that heated moment. You carefully reached your lips with your fingertips as you touched them lightly. You wanted to ignore the feeling about the need and delight you felt after the kiss, it was more than you… expected.

The seal is almost done.

You're married.

And you are a wife.

"Your Grace, is the water fine?" one of the maids worriedly asks as she watches your reaction. You offered her a small grin, "It is fine, dear. You may wait outside."

The maid was flustered at the term you used. Nonetheless, she lowered her head and exited the room. And you were left alone.

You released a sigh of relief as your tensed shoulders drooped down in relaxation. You leaned back on the cold marbled, giving shivers from the foreign sensation. You settled down to the fragrant water as you looked towards the ceiling.

You recalled the events that happened a while ago. Everything felt surreal—the wedding and reception. You haven't even grasped the thought that you are married. It was just like yesterday, your head was buried in piles of books.

However, what was more unbelievable was marrying the Satoru Gojo.

You recently realized that your family never revealed who you were marrying. They just busted into your room and "surprised" you with a "gift," which was the marriage, for your birthday.

You bitterly chuckled.

It evidently shows how they badly want to get rid of their only daughter. They don't even gave an ounce of sincerity or care in their actions. They didn't ask your opinion or consent to this marriage. There are countless of crimeful actions they did to you that you can name.

They are definitely a family of shameless shits. Oh, why were you unfortunate in this life? You never even asked to be the daughter of a count, much less be the wife of a duke.

Duke. Satoru Gojo. Duchess...

"The duchess of Gojo, Y/N Gojo," you mutter.

As the name rolled from your tongue it was as you expected. It does not fit well but you didn't hate it.

Suddenly, your mind wondered about your husband. Was he also in the same situation as you? Was he also forced? Or did he need a wife to fully secure his position and chose a plain lady who wouldn't give a milliliter of care about his private affairs like you?

Regardless of his reasons for marrying you, it would be better to do your duty as a duchess than a wife. There are frequent numbers of loveless marriages in your society, and they include your parents.

Perhaps the Gojo, Geto, and Kento families are an exception. Their lineages, like Marquess Kento, are well-known for prioritizing heart above mind regarding love. The story of him and his wife was one of the most gossiped subjects among young ladies and masters. He met his wife while attending the Royal Academy, where he was acclaimed for his clever intellect and anticipated to graduate in a year. However, he graduated after two and a half years just to be with his current wife.

It was surprising to learn about the story. He was a man with a cold appearance yet born with a warm heart.

But those families were fortunate in love; they weren't foolish (except the Gojo you are wedded with). You also admit that you wish to experience and find a love like theirs, but the world isn't forgiving to you. To you, who is the daughter of a corrupt and power-hungry noble.

You sighed as you raised your head before splashing the water into your body. You could not afford to waste time any longer.

The seal is not yet complete.

--------------------

You approached the bedchambers of your partner with skittish feet. Bollocks, your insides were churning in extreme anxiety. You've always heard stories from married women of how the first time will always hurt. You're an adventurous lady, but the current situation is a whole bloody hell of uncertainty.

This is not the adventure you anticipated.

The wedding night must have slipped your mind, if only your maid hadn't reminded you, you'd embarrass your husband accidentally and rumors would spread.

"Damn me," you cursed your forgetfulness.

Despite that, here you are, standing in front of the door. The calm expression on your face contradicts your shaky hands. The two maids who were steps behind you patiently waited for your signal. You take a deep breath to calm your nerves then you nod.

They hurry to open the door. It was barely lighted beyond the depths, but you didn't notice the figure waiting on the side of the bed.

You gulped silently before lifting your foot and finally, stepping inside. When you compelled your way in, the maids you were with quickly closed the door, leaving you alone in this heavy atmosphere.

You lift your head as you hitch a breath. The man—Satoru Gojo was really out of this world in any style, form, and angle he was in. He wore a high-collar shirt with three unbuttoned buttons and dark trousers that elongated his already tall physique.

As for you, the maids forced you to wear lingerie that falls below your ankle, gently hugging your body that subtly shows your curves. The straps laid on your shoulder but they kept sliding off your skin since it was a bit thinner than the usual chemise you wore. The neckline was rounded and was letting your ladies from almost peaking out, displaying your cleavage. Moreover, the material was made from satin, attracting attention due to its sheen and softness.

You couldn't believe that satin can be sewn into this design. And you didn't expect your attire to be this... revealing. But you let it pass since it is your wedding night and as much as possible, you don't want to ruin his too.

"I didn't perceive you as the type who'd have their mind above the clouds."

"Oh!" You gasped loudly as you stepped back immediately. The white-haired man appeared tall in front of you. A playful grin comes on his handsome face. "Why startled, my dear?"

My dear? Your cheeks heat up at the name. It is not that you dislike his choice of name, but it sounds nice to hear. "I w-was not. I was just... admiring."

The grin never left on his face as he arched an eyebrow, "Me?" He steps closer and bends down to your eye level. His bright blue eyes stare into yours, expecting to get a reaction from you. Almost immediately, you avoided his purposeful watch.

He is too close! Too close!

It's as if he read your mind, he straightened his back and pulled away but still held eye contact down at you. "Your choice of evening attire is... quite unanticipated," his eyes scan your body from head to toe.

He was able to take a peek at that? You wrapped your arms around your body closely, tightly pulling the robe. You frowned at his words. Does he mean the lingerie does not suit you at all? "Well, I suppose that I should change into a more mode-"

"It enhances the natural grace and allure that you possess."

Your eyes became wide. Was your hearing right or is he losing his mind?

You realized that you were flushed deeply. You tilted your head to the side and cleared your throat. You now understand why ladies are smitten with this man. His looks were the flower, and his words were like opium. It certainly meets his description in its entirety, much like a poppy flower.

Suddenly, you felt a rough yet warm skin holding onto your wrist. "Come." Without waiting for your response, Gojo gently holds your wrist and drags you to the edge of the bed. With your wrist still in his grasp, he sat down on the bed with you facing him. The expression on your face was contorted into puzzlement. Despite this, he widens his legs and pulls you in between.

You looked down at him as he made eye contact with you. Your knees almost fall to the ground. Oh, his eyes are so hypnotizing.

Then you caught a breath when he placed both his huge hands on your waist as he rubbed your sides slowly and sensually. You put your hands on his toned forearms, and your gaze slid to his arms. The veins on his arms bulged, creating a delicate pattern beneath the surface.

"Take the robe off." Gojo blurted.

You snapped your head at him in surprise. Another gulp made its way through your throat as you left the warmth of his arms to untie the belt tie of the robe. Your hands nervously pulled the tie, yet the man's gaze never faltered as he watched you with such intensity that your heart raced faster.

The robe smoothly pooled below your feet. The silence was so deafening that you thought the temperature dropped even more. The cold air of the room hits your skin, and you feel so bare in your lingerie. You shuffled on your feet uncomfortably while you attempted to cover yourself until Gojo took hold of your wrist.

"Don't." You hear the tone of authority in his voice. One word from him crumbled you into obedience, which made you dropped your arms to your side.

There was an awkward silence that bore in the room as Gojo just gaped at you.

"Oh, darling..." he sighed heavily as he shifted. You were brought even closer to him as you felt the warmth of his body. He leaned his head on your stomach, inhaling the addictive scent you were bathed in.

He roamed his hands around your body. Each roam he did, slowly tightened his hold. He grunts lowly before planting a kiss on your stomach, you bite your lower lip. Gojo continued to place kisses on your clothed stomach as he slid his hand down, grabbing the fabric upwards, and exposing your legs.

You gripped his forearms tightly, your breaths becoming labored and heavy. Shivers ran down your nerves. Gojo bunches up the material above your belly as his lips come in contact with your bare stomach once again, "Ah!" you moaned.

Then your hands gently slipped up to clasp his hair, causing him to growl. Gojo swiftly exchanged positions with you, pushing you down into the bed. He tugged your dress upwards over your chest, and you gasped loudly at his daring move.

He smirks as he touches your thighs. He then imprisons you with his body. You yelped in agony as the man, who was intently studying your reactions, opened his lips and sucked your exposed breast. Licking every area, up, down, left, and right then sucking it for a while.

"W-Wait, n-not like that..." you whimper.

The middle of Gojo's eyebrows wrinkled before switching his lips to your other nipple, sucking them languidly as he fondled your other breast in the same manner. Your back arched at the sensation.

He should not be doing these things to you—it is not his duty.

You pressed his shoulder, causing him to part his lips from your nipple, a delicate strand of saliva connecting. His expression screams craving for more, stares at your flushed face. You breathe heavily as you push yourself with your elbows.

"You should not be doing this," you shake your head. "It should be me."

He glowers, "What are you implying?" He slowly gets up. He changes his position by lifting his knees on either side of you, caging you completely. Both of his hands sink onto the fluff of the bed on either side of your head, bending down as he almost closes the distance between you and him. But he turns his head to your neck, feathering with light kisses and rough bites. You gripped his back, digging your nails in pleasure as you attempted to open your mouth to speak.

"I-I meant that — ah — my d-duty... heavens." You state, head dizzy by him. The white-haired man still continued to mark you. "I should b-be... pleasing you, not you."

Suddenly, Gojo halts as he pulls himself up. Your eyes widened, trying to ignore the throbbing marks he burned in your skin. His godlike visage had an unexplained look. If you were to characterize one thing, it would be a scowl. It's as if he was angry—no, enraged, if you will specify it. Your husband's impassive eyes met your mystified orbs. He then cocks his jaw and pushes his tongue into his cheek.

He tilts his head curiously. Then speaks in a sneering tone, "Do you really take me for a man who only cares about their own pleasure?" There was a menacing aura brewing from him. Why is he furious at such a matter that is a fact? It is your duty.

You denied his claim, "N-No! I was pertaining that I am your wife! And... th-that I shall be giving you what my husband deserves from his wife. Please, let me do it. I promise!"

But he stayed quiet instead there was this "the calm before storm" silence extruding from his stare, what was he bothered about?

However, you continue with your words. "I assure you that you do not need to force yourself to do the duties of a husband," you reassured him. "Since this is not real." You add.

Your husband remained silent as a collective sigh passed across his lips. Then he ran his fingers through his hair while his other hand began to unbutton his dress shirt and asked, "What's not real?"

Your gaze moves down to his body, his firm chest peeking from the shirt. Oh, how'd you want your touch on it.

You shake your thoughts clouding your judgment. Now is not the time to be drooling...

You swallow anxiously, "... the marriage."

Then, you felt the presence of dead stillness in the room. Gojo halts his actions, a look of passing emotions crossed his features. Tensed shoulders and tiny droplets of sweat appeared on your forehead; your husband's silence was frightening. His shirt was already gone from his body.

Suddenly, your garments were ripped from your body. You gasped loudly as you gazed down at yourself, and your mouth fell.

Now you're nude... bare, naked!

"Gojo!" you exclaimed. His eyes twitched as you shouted his name, but he did not speak, instead, he scowled again at you. And you could feel the blazing fury that was seething in his veins. "Gojo!" You attempted to get his attention agaim.

But he was ignoring you. Once again, Gojo stoops down to plant hot and open-mouth kisses on your jaw. You winced as you felt a delicious pain as he stroked your bare breasts, with his other hand holding your wrists above your head.

"We are both aware that we hardly know much about each other." He begins talking as he softly drags his lips over your flushed cheeks. You felt his hot breath brushing across your ear, tickling you. "Whether it's an arranged marriage or not, I intend to be a good, if not, a great husband to you, darling," he whispers in a low and intimidating tone.

It was like a switch, you didn't manage to prepare yourself as he seized your lips in a bruising kiss. You gave out a moan and he thrusted his tongue into your mouth. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pinning both of your wrists above your head. He devoured the taste of your mouth, moaning against it.

The tension of his kiss was similar to the one he gave you at the altar, however, this was more needy, hungry, and possessive reaction. He twisted your nipples as you whined in pain. He finally parted his lips from yours. Your chest was moving up and down heavily as you saw him gently glide down, his other hand on your wrists gradually losing its grasp.

Your body was beginning to feel hot.

He peppered kisses all over your body till he stopped in between your legs. His hot breath brushed across your clothed cunt, and he made markings on your inner thighs. His gorgeous eyes glance up at you, "So... if you ever speak of that nonsense again. I assure you that your punishment won't be taken lightly."

He places a light kiss on you cunt, which made you whimper upon contact. You gripped the sheets gently when you felt a finger slide around your clothed slit. He played your covered pussy as you felt it dampening your panty.

Until he pushes your underwear to the side, a smirk coming to his face. You took a sharp inhale as you felt cooling air around your bare cunt, panicking internally. He shouldn't do these actions, it is such dishonarable act for a nobleman! You try to move away from him discreetly, yet the man notices your futile attempt as he braces your thighs even more.

He glowers, "Whether it is of convenience or not, doesn't mean we can't make it real."

Finally, he latches his mouth on your slit, licking up a stripe. A strangled moan escaped your lips as your back arched high. "Ah!" You gripped the sheets desperately from pleasure. He sluggishly swirls his tongue around your opening before pushing it inside.

"G-Gojo!"

Gojo continued his sensual pleasuring to you, glancing at you from time to time, clearly observing your reactions. It's as if he was still craving for more, a mischievous idea popped in his head. He stopped his actions with his tongue.

You stopped your moans as you glimpsed down at him, wondering why he stopped while your face transforms into a frown. "Why'd you st—oh! W-Wait!" Your breath suddenly becomes heavy as your veins are popping through your neck at the sensation. You clenched your toes hard as you panted.

He captured your clit with his mouth in an avaricious sucking motion. A fresh experience rushes through your nerves; it wasn't just pleasure. It proppelled you into a whole new world, it was on top of the world. He grunted against your pussy as you gripped his hair and squeezed it tightly.

You shifted in an attempt to free yourself from the excruciating pleasure he was giving you. As his tongue played about your bud of sensitive nerve fibers, you exclaimed loudly, "Oh my God!"

You felt him release one of his grips from your thigh, and he pulled you into a new, lewd posture by pushing both of your thighs with his other arm. You noticed that cunt and buttocks was more exposed. You object in a dismayed voice, saying, "This is so strange," but the nasty man simply disregarded you and carried on with his meal on your pussy.

Then, as he ravenously gobbled up your clit, Gojo moved his finger up and down on your slit. At last, he inserts his finger into your vagina. You emitted a soft groan. You were a sweaty, groaning, disgusting mess. The way he was making you feel good did not match the statements or expectations you heard from married women.

He pushes and pulls his finger as he curled it, hitting your g-spot. "Found it," a smirk forms on his lips momentarily before continuing his motions. You kept moaning and moaning, your hair was disgustingly sticking onto your skin, and your knuckles were turning white from the grip.

It was until you felt something curling around your stomach, "G-Gojo! Please, s-slow d-d-down! I feel something!"

When he heard that, he quicken his pace and added another finger inside you, making you full. Then you moaned loudly, the curl on your stomach faltering as you released. Your husband didn't shy away from savoring your juices as it coated his mouth and chin.

Your chest heaves as it rises and falls. You were about to close your legs when Gojo stopped you with his leg. His eyes narrowed as he gazed at you.

Is he still not finished?

You swallowed a saliva. "Gojo..." you said, pausing. His eyes were still squinted at you as he hummed in response. You said, "It's time for my duty," quite slowly.

When you said the word "duty," he rolled his eyes and snickered. You tightened your teeth and said, "Why are you acting so immature? I am doing you a favor."

His endearing grin turns into a slight scowl and an upward eyebrow. He sighs and unstraps his belt with a sliding motion of his hand. You noticed that the temperature dropped, chillingly hugging to your warm naked skin.

"A favor, darling? I never mentioned I wanted a favor from you." He begins talking. You watched him with wide eyes while he slowly pulls strap from the belt loop. The way he was pulling it was so... seductive and his hands are so sexy and huge. Oh! What promiscuous thoughts are clouding your mind?

"It is quite frustrating that is how you think of me. Well, I don't blame you. Rather, I blame your father. Although, I am quite satisfied that he gave you as my wife."

You? As his wife? What did he mean by that?

His belt finally was out of his hips as he dropped them on the ground, then he unzipped his pants gently but carefully, as if he is teasing you.

He smirks. "However, my wife couldn't get the silly word out of her mouth and mind. Duty? What an absurd word to use. Maybe, showing you might be the best way to reveal what a real marriage is."

He pushes both of his pants and underpants down his legs as his member springs against his toned stomach. You almost choked on your saliva when you saw the size of it. This is not what you expected from what you've learned from the mouths of those married noblewomen.

How is that size possible?!

He wraps a hand around his shaft as he slowly pumps it, a conceited expression spreads across his face, amused at your reaction that he expected.

"Like what you see, darling?"

You gasped as you averted your gaze in embarrassment. His words are so... crude. You speak in a shushed manner, "That won't fit."

"We'll make it then."

Your face contorted into confusion then panic when your husband pushed both of the back of your knees to your body, exposing your cunt in the most vulgar way. "Gojo!"

He ignored your calls.

Heavens, why do you feel so helpless and weak right now? Is it because the unforgettable pleasure he gave you? He positioned himself in between your legs before sliding his shaft on your pussy to coat it with your juices.

Gojo hissed when he stroked his cock using your cunt. He pushes and pulls his hips to pleasure you and himself. You felt his tip hitting your sensitive bud painfully, making you jerk everytime it touches. Gojo licks his lips when he sees your reaction.

He bends down to your ear as he whispers, "Once I push it in, I'll engrave my mark on your body, heart, mind, and soul. I'll ensure that you'll never have eyes for any other men... or even women if you prefer them." He gently bites the lobe of your ear as you feel the tip of his manhood almost prodding in your entrance.

"I'll make you love me, and I'll learn to love you."

Finally, he pushes his long and thick cock into your pussy. A deep gasp emitted from your lips, leaving you shocked from the godly size. "Fuck... you're — oh — darling," he hissed as he pushed in further into your cunt. You bit his shoulder tightly from the pain.

It took a long hard minute for you to be fully adjusted to his size. You were panting heavily until he finally sheathed his manhood in you. Your husband observes your response as his softened eyes gently asks if he could continue, which you responded with a nod.

Then he thrusted into you sensually. "Ah!" You moaned breathily. He pushed his hips back and forth, ensuring that you feel him inside. But it was lacking, you wanted him to be more rough and mean.

You reached out to him as his eyes were focused on the part where you and him are connected, mesmerized by it. Your voice snaps him out of his trance. "G-Gojo."

"Satoru." He growled.

"Huh?" Puzzlement sets on your face.

A smirk transforms on his lucious and swollen lips. He leaned closer to your face as he pulled his hips until his tip is just inside before slamming his thickass cock hard into you. A sharp inhale left your pretty mouth, your back arching from the sudden slam. His lustful eyes stares at your face, satisfied.

"If you — ha — call me Gojo, I m-might think you're – oh fuck – moaning f-for my father." The smirk never left his face, a glistening sheen of sweat from his forehead were dripping from his face. How does this man manage to look so... sexy and mouthwatering?

"How rud– ah!" You were cut off by another harsh and rough pound. A smirk formed on his luscious lips, satisfied with your reaction.

"Louder. I wanna hear you, darling."

He snapped his hips, making you jerk from the force. "Ah! Oh, lord."

He leaned closer to your ear, his breath fanning against your skin and teeth grazing lightly on your lobe. "My name, darling," he snapped his hips again with much more force.

Your back arched as you screamed his name, "Satoru!"

His handsome smirk widens more at your heavenly voice. "What a good girl," he pulls his body up. staring at your lewd expression.

Oh, how badly he wants to have it painted and be hung in his office. He bit his bottom lip seductively at the thought. He thrusted harder and faster than the pace he did at the last one. A loud moan was emitted out of you.

Sweat was trailing down on the contours of his bulk back, heaves and moans filled the room with ecstasy and pleasure. His snow-white hairs sticking on his forehead as muscles tighten each time he pushes and pulls. Large and rough hands of his gripped the plush of the back of your thighs, forcefully pushing for his huge cock to go deeper inside you. His gaze switches from his dick to your face, loving the ministrations he does to you, so much.

You were so addicting. Fuck.

Out of nowhere, he pulls out. You whine at the empty feeling and prop on your elbow. The smug grin was plastered on the beautiful man's face as he wrapped his hands on your waist before switching positions. He gently places you on top of him, your essence flowing on your thighs sticks to his stomach. You set your hands on his chiseled chest, gasping from exhaustion. You stare at him with lidded eyes, your hair framing the sculpture of your face. What does he want now?

When Satoru sensed the confusion, an amused chuckle emitted out of him. Without effort at all, he lifts your hips and pushes your cunt into his erected cock. A sharp gasp falls on your lift as you drop your head. The way your walls hugged the size of his made Satoru fall his head back, loving the way you take him so well. His right hand grabs your tits, playing with your nipple roughly.

You whimpered at the pain.

"Fuck, s-so tight..." Your husband hissed at the sensation. One of his hands left the warmth of your ass cheeks before placing it on the back of your head and pulling you closer.

"Ride me."

Your husband says. His body slouched against the bedframe, his hair dropped over his eyes, creating a shadow beneath it. Yet his stare was unyielding and full of lust. Your eyes widened as you pulled away from him. The tip of your ears slowly paints red.

Why did he have to say that so.... sensously?

His sky blue eyes bore into you.

"Ah!"

You cry loudly. His huge hands gripping your waist as he thrusts up, the tip of his member hitting the walls of your cervix. "S-Satoru!" You moan.

A smug smile transforms on his swollen lips as he pushes his body towards you, "Now ride me, darling." He lies back down, the mattress sinking softly from his weight. He waits for you to move, his dick warm inside your walls, eager to be milked.

You gulped silently.

Slowly, you brought your knees down on each side of his hips and placed your palms on his toned abdomen, guiding yourself up before bringing your weight down, You moaned in arousal. Satoru throws his head back, a groan leaving his lips. You rocked your hips again, your clit rubbing against his skin.

"That's it..." a hiss comes out from your husband.

You do it again, gasping at each thrust you do. Once you slowly get used to it, your pace becomes faster. Satoru guides you with his hands on your ass, up and down. Every time you set in your motion, you feel every vein of his dick. You wetness leaking out of your hole. It coated a slippery feel on your thighs and his member.

"Good job, darling," he sighs lowly.

Every time he praises you, his tone, his words, just arouses you even more. Motivated, you bring yourself up and thrust down hard, a sharp and pleasurable pain soared through your body.

Satoru brings his right hand in the middle of your legs, setting his thumb on your clit, rubbing it in tight and quick circles. A new nerve sensation shoots up on your body, pleasure all over.

"Heavens...! O-o-oh!" You squeal but that didn't falter your pace rather it made you want to get that release again. "Come on, y-yes."

His eyebrows furrowed as he also quickened his pace on your clit. He finally feels his abdomen clenching, he lazily gazes at you. "Feel that, baby? You can do it. Come on, let daddy make you full." His encouragement made you shift your position slightly, gaining more access with a nimble rate.

Then you feel something churning inside you, twisting and clenching. "I f-feel it," you gasp heavily. He senses you as your walls clenches his dick, making a sharp sound from his mouth. He thrusts upwards, matching your pace as his thumb was still on your clit.

Your release was coming closer, so was his. Each second, your cunt tightens. Then, something was curling inside your stomach, "I-I-I'm coming! Ah---Satoru!"

"Come on, darling. L-Let's do i-it... together. "

Finally, your juices releases from your hole. Satoru thrusts upwards, pushing himself closer to you regardless of the non-existent distance between the both of you. His thick and warm cum fills you up to the brim. He stays comfortably inside you, his cock being coated with your juices, same as your walls. Your combined cums leaks out of your hole, dripping on your inner thigh and his abdomen.

His cum is so warm as it brings you to the brink of bliss. You moaned loudly, arching your back at the same time. Satoru has his hands on a dying grip on your waist, pushing you down further and further to his overstimulated cock. After a while, the noise and gasps dies down in the room as you found your highs. It was tiredness ans sleepiness greeting your body.

"Darling, you're my heaven." Satoru croaks out as his last drop of his cum overflows your insides.

Your body succumbs into exhaustion as you drop down to your husband, your sweat sticking to your bodies. Your eyes were droopy and heavy, you just have no energy after that intense intercourse. Satoru pulls out as he places you comfortably on the bed, grabbing the duvet to cover you with it.

You settled in as you let it hug you, sleep was calling for you.

Your mouth was tight shut as your mind and body slowly shuts down. Yet before you walk into your dreams, you ears somehow caught his words faintly.

"I'll take care of you, darling. I'll give you everything."

all dividers are from @/cafekitsune <3

[skyrigel]

Can you write an image in which Benedict is obsessed with Y/N and is always looking for reasons to touch her. However, Y/N knows that when it comes to women, Benedict quickly gets what he wants... sex. She keeps him waiting and doesn’t sleep with him until the wedding day.

Obsessed with you | I

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Benedict bridgerton x afab!reader

Synopsis: Ton's most eligible bachelor is obsessed with the mystery lady in silver, and would do anything to have her

Warning: Reader's mother has issues, scandalous family, last name Rose for convience, Benedict being a smug bastard, some regency class differences, cute Polin, cute kathony, minor non-con touching, smoking cigar, lots of teasing and ofcourse obsessive and possession behaviour. Might be toxic! Benedict but please he's a cutie.

Dearest gentle readers,

While for sure we have seen former Rake now Kate's beloved whipped husband, and Colin bridgerton who is so smitten with his dearest wife that it will not come forward a surprise if he hasn't set foot out in all these days, but Benedict bridgerton is neither whipped nor smitten, he is, as the poets would whisper, obsessed. It will be amusing to know who this mystery lady is, with her dazzling silver gown and piercing eyes, sharp enough as she carved the gentleman's heart out.

Benedict was a man for art and muse so forgive him if he got so obsessed with you, the real question was, how could he not ? You were the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, clad in your most dazzling blue dress that he wanted nothing but to take off.

" She exaggerates." Anthony pouted, he shouldn't know that he had but he's been pouting a lot lately, it's called 'kateffect'

" No, you've been domesticated brother, just admit it, Kate has tamed you." Colin peppered, sprawling down next to Anthony who greeted him with the most glaring glare.

" Like you're any better." Anthony smirked, setting his gaze on Benedict who read the index again.

" Penelope doesn't know her name ? " Benedict worried his jaw, looking between his brothers.

" I take that back, Penelope didn't exaggerate, you're really very much obsessed." Anthony remarked, Colin nodded.

" Oi, she would've known your mystery lady's full name and history but—"

" Don't complete that, I'll duel you."

" In the middle of a ball ? " Benedict laughed, eyes amused, Colin turned a crimson red.

" Rather tempting—"

" Oi! " Anthony raised his brow, his mouth curving in disdain, as Colin staggered away, leaving Anthony praying to lord behind like he was any better.

" Oh dear." Benedict smiled when once alone, thumb caressing the index, as if it was the mystery lady in silver blue gown, accused of taking away the gentleman's heart.

" Who are you ? " He whispered.

_

" Ma'am, would you like something else ? " Mrs. Turner asked once you were seated on your dressing, playing with several glassy bottles with colourful scenty substances.

" In yesterday's masquerade ball, I was dancing with a Bridgerton—" Mrs. Turner tutted softly," He's Benedict bridgerton, i assume."

" Yes, indeed, the only bachelor bridgerton boy of age." Mrs. Turner pulled the corset strings and you gasped, feeling your internals squeeze in the process.

You smiled, thinking about the way Benedict looked at you, all stars in his eyes.

" I..it is not my place miss but as your well wisher, i would say.." she worried her jaw.

" It's okay Mrs. Turner, you should speak your mind." You assured her, feeling her fingers stop at your back as she looked at your reflection in the mirror.

" Benedict bridgerton's a rake, unlike any other gentleman... he's known to engage women with class and wits...artists, musicians, and other dimplomacy that are odd amongst our sex."

" Oh." You nodded, feeling stupid enough to think those were meant for you, like they were of real affection.

" I wouldn't want you any harm, after your father's death and your inheritance affairs, you couldn't afford another scandal, for a good match—"

" My virtue should stay intact ? " You raised your chin, examining the stain of rose on your lips.

" Your sister was a good girl madam, so are you." Mrs. Turner smiled, her eyes crinkling with deepest concerns.

-

Benedict's eyes were searching for you everywhere, he has been waiting for you since so long. Despite anxious mamas forcing introductions and dances, he was looking only for you.

" Miss Rose." Benedict turned to see his sister in law, smiling a smirk, followed by her husband in tow.

" You wound me Pen, it's Benedict bridgerton! " He laughed, much to Colin's dismay.

" Oh well your mystery lady is Miss Rose, daughter of late Duke of Blair field and lady bloom." Colin was one step away from clapping.

" Wow." Benedict's mouth curved in a delightful 'o'.

" Oh well they are rather scandalous, her sister was rumoured to be not a virgin which deceased all of her prospects of marriages, her mother is rather protective of her."

" Pen, did I tell you how you're my favourite sister ? " Benedict perked his gaze towards the entrance, hoping for you to bless him.

" Don't let Eloise hear that." Colin said, outstretching his arm that Penelope held as they swirled between the crowd, laughing.

_

" You shall not be unchaperoned." Your mother had a faraway look in her eyes, her hand was trembling and you surged the desire to just hold it.

" I understand, mama." You bowed your head once, trying to forget the trembling of her hands.

" Don't engage in gossips dearest, better keep to yourself and..." She forgot what she was saying, her lips trembling along, you looked at Mrs. Turner with a pleading gaze.

" Ma'am, we must make haste." She simply said, your mother spared a glance to you, her mouth tightening around the corners.

" You look beautiful child." She looked away, you pretended not to see the tear that glistented down her cheek.

After securing yourself in the carriage, with your dress squeezing the life out you, you finally breathed.

" I envy Gissele." You said softly, caressing the uneven glittering fake diamonds.

" She would say the same." Mary mumbled, she was Mrs. Turner's daughter who rather got scolded every often for being too blunt. You liked her alot.

" Oh wouldn't it be so wonderful to just lay in bed, reading a book and wearing simple soft dresses." You perked up at the idea of a life like that, a simple homely cottage, filled with warmth and sweetness and books.

" But the society has it's own fun, look at you, pretty dresses, pretty shoes, and all those prince charming lords." Mary took your fan and mimicked the motion, you smiled.

" Well you could always borrow a dress, have some fun." Your eyes glinted, Mary shaked her head.

" C'mon." You grabbed her wrist, shaking them, up and down profusely.

" No, mama will kill me ! "

" But the fun ?! No one would know, they haven't seen me, they don't know me."

" Well i can't pretend to be you, what would happen if somebody caught us."

" Don't then, be yourself ! Mary Turner."

" Sounds like a bad idea." Mary said, her smile deceived her.

" Lord Turner of Riverdales, be their relative, no one hardly pays attention."

" Whistledown does." Mary narrowed her eyes, you looked out to make sure you haven't yet reached.

" Well she called me a mystery woman who apparantly took a gentleman's heart."

" Oh Mr. Bridgerton's a known gentleman." You scoffed at that, Mary's brow knitted together as she studied you.

" What ? He's a rake." You brushed the tingling away, feeling the way Benedict's gaze lingered on you, the way he twirled you around like you were the only real thing, the way he flushed and stumbled through his words, attempting to know absolutely anything about you.

" I highly doubt that, never heard anything about him."

" Presumably he has a longing for accomplised women." You finger quoted it with a scowl that was too unladylike, Mary bursted into fits of giggles.

" What ? " You poked her, she shaked with her guffaw, chortling in her way.

" You fancy him." She said, chuckling the ' him' away, you frowned deeply, heart leaping at the ton that was gathered outside lady Danbury's exquisite ball.

" Utter rubbish. Do you still want to have fun ? " You asked, Mary smiled.

_

Benedict gaze perked up when you and Mary stumbled through the ball, Mary was almost shaking and you were sure her clothes didn't fit much to you, you felt your back prickling with burning gaze and you turned.

" Told you he's a rake. Don't be friendly to him." You whispered to Mary who was about to run when Benedict dropped his conversation with lord White, swaggering towards you.

" What if he recognises you ? " She mumbled and your lower lip trembled, but that's not possible, your mask obscured your whole face except your lips and eyes and certainly he hadn't painted you in his mind, afterall he shouldn't be that obsessed.

" My lady." He bowed, his gaze locking in yours as he kissed the hand Mary very reluctantly gave him, he was amused when Mary mumbled a hasty greeting, her manners mimicked.

" You look exquisite, more than the ball itself." He was clearly flattered when Mary blinked hard, looking at you for help.

You rolled your eyes when Benedict too, looked at you with a similar pleading as Mary.

" Forgive me my lord, my lady is tired—"

" We haven't been introduced i remember, Benedict bridgerton." He grinned, he actually freaking grinned as Mary glanced at you with the corner of her eye.

" Lady Mariam Turner." She blurted it quickly, looking at you for approval, " A pleasure." Mary smiled, you nodded.

" Forgive me Mr. Bridgerton." You cleared your throat, Benedict's gaze penetrated through you, he was setting you on fire and you couldn't do anything but to burn.

" My lady is tired, you must excuse us." You felt your throat dry, your whole body withering when Benedict narrowed his eyes, lingering specifically on your lips and treading down slowly.

" Indeed, I must not keep you." He cocked his head to Mary, humming along as you strode past him. You were sure he only whispered the ' not ' out of curtsy.

_

" That was bloody brilliant ! " You giggled while Mary shaked her head, clutching her bossom. Your footsteps echoing in the abandoned corridor, stiffling back your giggles.

" That was bloody scary and I can't breathe." Mary heaved, her breath easing when you patted her back.

" Lady Mariam Turner." You teased, bumping your hip as Mary looked at you, gasping scandalously.

" Shut up. I almost died." Mary pulled her dress that sticked to her skin, trying to fan in some air.

" Do you think he recognised me ? " Your cheeks blazed at the heat of the memory of him, his teasing glances and amused smiles.

" I...I think it was rather amusing that we were messing up, did you see how I trembled? " Mary shaked her hand, as you laughed at the display.

" No, my lady." You said, once your giggles subsided, " You were exquisite."

Mary wacked your arm, her smile unable to hide through the twitch of her lips.

" So, shall we go home ? "

" Would you mind waiting in the carriage ? "

" Don't tell me—" Mary glared, you pouted with puppy eyes.

" Please, you know it's my only way."

" Smoking is bad." Mary declared, " and for men." She added grimly, you nodded along, grabbing her wrist.

" Please, please, please."

" Only if you give back my clothes, i miss them." She touched the soft cotton of her clothes that you were wearing, you perked up eagerly.

_

You took joy at the puffs of smoke that ridiculed the air, the night chill freezing it into clouds of silvery mist.

Mary was dozing off in the carriage until it was time to go home, so early arrival doesn't raise any questions and your mother fast asleep, her trembling lipped questions saved for the next day.

" I thought your lady was tired." You almost dropped your cigar, jumping up the swing as it creaked at sudden outburst.

" Don't drop it, i don't have any with me." His smile was too big and smug for his face, his nonchalance dripped as he took the swing opposite of you. You stared, for some reason cigar still burning in intricate yellow blazing circles, dropping to ashes.

" Forgive me my lord—" you just remembered you were no longer in Mary's clothes.

" That's the only line you grasped so far ? " Benedict leaned on his swing, catching your wrist as he dragged you to sit.

You sat down with a thud, swing jiggling with your weight as you processed his smile.

" I..." You stammered, flushing in heat as he inhaled you in, you were back in your clothes, the one you were supposed to wear. And Mary was right, you couldn't breathe.

" I would say you look beautiful, in everything, in anything..or—" in nothing.

" I should leave." You throat itched.

" Stay." He was soft, almost a whine, a plead.

" Please don't tell anyone." You tried your best persuading smile, it worked on Gissele all the time, your lips pouting and eyes shining with stars.

Benedict's mouth curved in a smile, he clicked his tongue as he attempted to speak but he found he couldn't. A pause, then—

" You love tormenting me, don't you ? " Benedict took the burning cigar from you, locking your eyes with his own as he brought it to his mouth, a sound escaped him as his lips curved around the warmness that belonged to you, he inhaled deeply.

" I don't know what you're talking about." You tore away you eyes from the erotic display of smoking, he hummed in a dry scoff.

" Ofcourse, you wouldn't." He offered the Cigar back, every word coated with sarcasm.

The breeze was so cold that you shivered, moon hanging low in the night sky and every star stared back, Sirius, Rigel, and all of them.

" I never meant to offend you." You took the cigar back, his fingers brushed, a electrifying wave rippling inside you, like the way he held your hand and danced with you in the masquerade ball.

You noticed his flexing but said nothing, heart beating too fast to be sane and alive.

" Miss Rose—" you gasped, how could he know your name, "—have you ever been kissed ? "

" I...Benedict..lord." you clamped your mouth shut, lips suddenly struck by a bolt as they buzzed.

He leaned as you felt your back touching the rope of swing, his face too close... would he kiss you ? Would it be as electrifying as the rest of his touches ? Would you survive it or simply burn like a pheonix ?

" It's okay, we would alot when we get married. " He took away the cigar and dropped it as it was so close to burn your skin, smiling all the while. Was that a proposal ?

" Go home, it's getting cold, Mrs-yet-to-be bridgerton." And he pressed his lips against your forehead, his smile caressing your heart.

Rigel's note 🪩: while I loved this idea especially the hilarious ' Benedict gets what he wants....sex ' but I needed to base it, so it doesn't come as pervy and non con as it might, to make it comfortable enough to write on my part, I have tried to break it into parts, this part is generally meet up and getting obsession with y/n ( no use in fic ) and other will be courting and marriage bliss. Gif not mine.

[ghelgheli]

i would actually like to hear more of your thoughts on whipping girl, whenever you feel ready enough to talk about it. i've only ever heard positive recommendations for it. i was thinking of reading it. i've read one or two introductory 101 texts on transmisogyny as well as some medium/substack posts, and always looking to read more as a tme person. ty!

thanks for asking! I'm gonna try to be concise because I'm stuck on my phone for the month, but here are my thoughts on whipping girl:

serano is at her strongest in the book in three areas: manifestations of transmisogyny in media (e.g. how trans caricatures pervade movies), the history of medical institutions developing a pathology of transsexuality (like the diagnostics of blanchard et al. or how trans people seeking healthcare were and continue to be forced into acting out prescribed expressions and manufacturing memories), and the construction of her own transition narrative (telling the reader what it was like for her to grow up desiring femininity in a way that confused her, the experience of crossdressing, the effects of hrt for her)

whenever she's just sticking to this, I think she effectively communicates a lot that the unaware reader could benefit from—even many trans women/transfems/tma people who are otherwise in tune with the history of medicalized transsexualism and our popular depictions could probably benefit from her own personal narrative, by nature of how variegated our experiences can be.

unfortunately I think the book fails at its primary—stated—goal, which is to theorize about transmisogyny. in the big picture this is a bifurcated failure:

on one branch of her argument, she remains committed to there being something biologically essential/innate about gender. this manifests thru multiple claims: that we have "innate inclinations" toward masculinity/femininity and "subconscious sex" rather than what I believe, which is that the latter are constructed categories imposed on different matrices of behaviour/expression/desire in different cultural contexts; that there is "definitely a biological component to gender" (close paraphrase) after a discussion of how she believes E and T tend to affect people (thus equivocating gender with dominant hormones!); that we have such a thing as "physical sex" which is the composition of our culturally decided "sex characteristics" (don't ask me how the dividing line is drawn) even as she says we should stop using "biological sex" as a term; that there is "no harm" in agreeing that "sex" is largely bimodal with some exceptions; that social constructionism is necessarily erasure of transsexual experiences in early childhood... altogether she is unwilling to relinquish arguments about the partial "innateness" of femininity/masculinity and gender. this is at tension with her admission on several occasions that these are neither culturally/geographically nor temporally stable concepts! but that doesn't seem to be a line she can follow thru on.

on another, intertwining branch, she engages in what I think is a deep and widespread mistake in the theorizing of transmisogyny: reducing it (mechanistically) to what she calls effemimania* or essentially anti-femininity. it is her stated thesis at the start that masculinity is universally preferred to femininity. she doesn't offer a definition of either term until one of the final chapters, where she defines them as the behaviours and expressions associated with a particular gender. but I think this reduction just misunderstands transmisogyny. it is even in tension with an observation she makes early on, that trans women are often punished for their perceived masculinity! but again, this is a thought she seems unable or unwilling to follow thru with.

my problem with the thesis is that masculinity and femininity do not float free of gender—it is not possible to speak of their valuation in the abstract. anyone who grew up as a masculine cis girl and never "grew out" of that "phase" can attest to the violence wrought upon expressions of masculinity from women. and this applies doubly so to the subjects of transmisogyny! not only are we punished for any perceived bleed-through of masculinity from our supposed "underlying male selves", those of us who are willingly masculine and thriving as mascs are punished for our failure to conform to the rules of the normative womanhood that is imposed on us (just as we are punished for any willing femininity as "false" and predatory upon cis womanhood—observe that transmisogyny is reactive degendering in every case!).

on both branches serano makes only perfunctory remarks about the intersections with race, class, and colonialism. "sex" as such was made to only be accessible to the "civilized", most of all the white european! for a racialized person and particularly a Black person navigating gender the waters are just not the same; the signifiers of sex neither available in the same way, nor granted the same medical legitimacy. what is the "physical sex" of someone who is de-sexed altogether? how can gender have a "biologically innate" component when its expressions between the bourgeoisie and the working class are at total odds with one another? this all goes for the masculine/feminine distinctions as well. what sense is there in the claim that we have innately masculine/feminine inclinations when globally (and transmisogyny has been made global!) what is feminine and masculine can be very nearly mirrored? nor is "masculinity is always considered superior to femininity" innocent of obviating race. transmisogynoir adds yet further degendering thru the coercive masculinization of someone as a Black woman—masculinization as punishment, again!

and as a final point, the account fails to be materialist. there is no attempt to place transmisogyny in its role as an instrument of political economy or, as jules gill-peterson might say, as a tool of statecraft. it is just a psychological response to the way the world is, as far as serano has anything to say about it. but how did the world become that way, and why?? serano's solution, the abolition of what she calls gender entitlement, is naive to the fact that gender entitlement is necessary to the maintenance of the capitalist state, which is structured thru patriarchy and built on colonialism. it is not possible to reskin this into something innocuous!

this is why I cannot recommend whipping girl as a work about transmisogyny except at the most shallow level. it could be a helpful critical read, but imo, it is just wrong about transmisogyny.

[cannellee]

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ★

୨୧ yandere! alpha! kazutora x omega! reader

synopsis: kazutora is utterly obssessed with you and turns yandere once you start hanging out with other people. but what happens when he goes too far...?

cw : bullying, manipulation, controlling/possessive behaviour, r@pe attempt (not kazutora), assault, angst to comfort?

note : I'm so so sorry for not posting for nearly 2ish months🙏 here's a little something that was sitting in my drafts for a while now, hope you'll like it! I'll try to get back to posting stuff before the end of the year!!

note 2 : I recently read a lot of fics with omega drop inside and I wanted to give it a try!! I'm so unhappy with how the end turned out, but I can't think of anything else to write soo... + it's so rushed, pls don't hate me🙏

MY MASTERLIST: ★

just imagine bully!kazutora, who decides to attend school regularly just to see his favourite omega every day!

he develops this weird obsession for you and can't stop himself from thinking about you 24/7. at first he's talking to you in the most casual way he can, asking you about school homework, what food you had for lunch...

you don't find him repulsive at all despite the rumours : he isn't violent and overwhelming despite his affiliation to a gang. so you engage in small conversations with him, almost finding yourself in a secluded space with just the two of you more often than you can remember. but kazutora has been nothing but a nice alpha with you! so you let your guard down.

his mean behaviour didn't start until the summer break. you discovered yourself and gained confidence, going out more and discussing with more people than you used to.

when kazutora was one of the rare people occupying your already tiny social circle, he now was one friend among so many. of course he had that special place in your heart, but how could he know ? regardless, it wasn't enough for kazutora.

he felt a burning jealousy consuming him wholeheartedly whenever you gave that new friend of yours more attention than him.

you used to be so shy and awkward, timidly walking up to him in hopes he'll talk to you. now kazutora has to witness his omega act like a social butterfly, smiling and hugging others like it's no big deal.

he's fuming. he doesn't want the thousand girls fanning over him and he couldn't care less about the people gathering around him to try and befriend him.

no, kazutora fell for you first and wants nothing more than your precious bubbly self for him to see only. what do you mean you have to cut short your daily walks home because some nobody invited you to the library ?

kazutora lives that as a betrayal and can't even fathom the idea of you slowly slipping away from him. he just had to do something. he felt sick to his stomach just thinking about you with someone else, about some alpha making moves even though he didn't even get the chance to properly kiss you or hold your hand.

but kazutora is smart. kazutora is charismatic. kazutora is an alpha with a sweet and charming smile. his bad reputation flew over people's heads whenever he flashed them his signature smile followed by his sugar-coated words.

you didn't think much about it when some people started avoiding you, interacting with you less and less. those were the ones you only made small talks with once in a while.

some started to throw you weird looks, whispering after you passed in front of them to join your locker. you frowned a bit, but no harm was done so you shrugged it off.

it was all too progressive to be a coincidence. first the rumours, then the physical bothering and finally, people outward causing you abuse.

it was scary and off-putting how everyone seemed to have turned their back on you, bullying you like you never laughed together just a month ago.

you pondered and questioned yourself, absolutely clueless about the unfair treatment. you now came to school with an unbearable pit to your stomach, scared as to what other students would come up with today.

while some deliberately left your side and bothered you for a couple of days, they soon got bored and simply proceeded to ignore you. but there was this particular friend group, which seemed adamant to keep persecuting you under any circumstances.

a few betas and alphas, everyday pushing you to the edge, cornering you in the empty locker room and tormenting you or literally destroying your belonging when you had your back turned.

it was all too much. everyone just disappeared from your life and you were left with a growing fear and apprehension. your usual vanilla scent was reduced to ashes, barely present, meanwhile you kept your mouth shut most of the time, sometimes even going days without talking to anyone at all.

it took a toll on your mental health, your instincts not fit for such a lonely life. you were made to be cajoled and appreciated, to enjoy life and make your loved ones happy.

you didn't have anyone anymore. you tried a few times to catch your closest friends in the hallway whenever you saw them pass before you, but none of them spared you a glance, hurriedly mumbling apologies before looking around them with fear in their eyes.

nothing made sense anymore. not even kazutora, who you thought was a genuine friend, helped you. he still attended school with an impressive diligence, you caught him sometimes talking to your bullies whenever the six of them ate together during lunch.

you had taken the habit to spend your lunchtime at the back of the school, far from everyone. you enjoyed those moment sof peace, even being able to keep an eye on them from where you were. you coul easily spot them without you being visible.

kazutora towered over them like a self-proclaimed leader, while they all listened to him with respect. kazutora was far stronger than them and could simply order them around the way he'd like.

you often wondered why he would take part in such a horrible thing, tormenting you as if you actually deserved it. what surprised you was how he seemed to never actually commit those said acts himself, making you even question if he was behind it all.

still, you kept your distance from him. your own feeling of betrayal hanging heavy in your mind at kazutora's indifference towards you.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

you fell on your butt after a particularly mean push to your shoulder. you looked up, wide-eyed and scared, the sound of laughter entering your ears as you watched their smirk deepen.

you hung out later than usual at the library, studying until it was all but dark outside. you carefully packed your stuff without any worries, not expecting anyone at this hour.

but to your luck, the same exact people were there, waiting for you like a pack of starved hyenas. you pushed past them, hoping that would keep them from bothering you any further, their sadistic urges already satisfied.

their pheromones felt especially menacing tonight, you didn't know if it was your mind playing tricks, feeling more vulnerable than ever now that you were all on your own and exhausted.

your instincts exhorted you to flee from here when they grabbed your shoulder to make you turn around. you couldn't dare look up, their sickening laughs doing enough to make you beyond scared.

they trashed you around, taking pleasure in your lack of power, your optimistic self easily defeated by the days spent in fear and anxiety. you instinctively reacted to their scents, your limbs automatically shaking, mind cloudy, trying its best to protect itself.

you could only cry pitifully when one of them threw you, forcing you to make contact with the floor once again. and when his eyes lingered over your figure in a predatory gaze, a smirk streching his lips and his tongue passing over it, you felt your blood run cold.

you searched for any ounce of humanity in his friends' eyes, hoping they'll realise that they were going too far and eventually call out the alpha. finding none, you felt yourself slipping awat by the second, your senses way too overly stimulated by their treatment.

you cried harder, his hands feeling like knives digging into your flesh, a ruthless attempt at stripping you away from what little dignity you had left.

he sat on top of you, his weight forcing a few coughs out of you, unable to breathe properly. he continued his assault comfortably, his friends cheering him on with no regard to how your whole world went crashing down in this exact moment, all your strenght abandoning you, unable to fight anymore.

your mind went blank, trying so hard to process what had just happened to you when you felt one of his friend pull him off of you. mumbling something about kazutora and telling the alpha that they scared you enough.

he reluctantly agreed with an angry growl and a condescending slap to your cheek, knowing kazutora was far too scary to go further with his omega. he mockingly barked at you to be grateful, but you couldn't hear him, nor could you move.

you simply laid there, a pool of tears clouding your vision, tiny and pathetic cries leaving your soar throat. you couldn't protect yourself from the unshakable feeling of terror and helplessness and nobody was there to give you support.

you really were all on your own.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

you woke up in the softness of your nest, memories blurry and confused, yet all your senses vividly alert. the blankets and pillows were in a mess, mascara smeared across your cheeks, your high-school uniform still on and furiously torn apart, and the smell of blood floating in the air.

after dragging yourself back to your home, you had used all your remaining strenght and could no longer move. yesterday was your last straw and all you could do was lay on your side, head pounding from all the crying and feeling like a lifeless doll.

you felt like a stranger in your own body, unable to shake off the overwhelming fear. you couldn't find any source of solace, your nest wasn't even yours anymore, it felt foreign. you didn't feel safe anywhere.

you slowly let your thoughts consume you.

you couldn't do it, you weren't brave enough, strong enough. you had been able to handle it for the first few months but you felt yourself fall deeper into this nightmare and your were afraid you would never be able to get out of it.

kazutora didn't think much about your absence at school today, he was visibly disappointed to not be able to see his favourite omega, but didn't pry too much.

after a day turned into two, then three and then almost twoweeks now, he grew more and more concerned. he was agitated, pissed off by the situation, skipping classes the second he didn't see you there. he tried calling you multiple times a day, left you a hundred of messages and despite the strangeness of his sudden concern for you, he had expected you'd answer them, or at least read them. but you didn't.

he was left in the dark and was surprised at himself to have let you flee his eyes for this much time, almost instinctively sensing the abnormal urgency in your absenteeism. he had consulted those meaningless people he used to isolate you, kazutora was such a threat on his own that he was sure they couldn't have possibly lied straight to his face. or is it that they've took it too far ? kazutora knew he had warned them about it, scaring you was fine, tormenting you was fine, anything beyong that was like asking for death.

he found himself at you doorstep the same exact day, a plastic bag full of various medicines just in case. he knocked, waited, but heard nothing. he tried smelling you through the cracks, your heat scent usually so strong it literally slips from under. but he sensed nothing, comfirming you had no academically right reason to not attend school for such a long period of time.

he called your name, screamed it in desperation, banged on your door to try and stir up some movement from inside, but everything was dreadfully calm.

a million thoughts went through kazutora's mind when he broke into your home. he breathed in your familiar scent, the same one that instantly made him feel all sorts of things the way no other omega ever did. he took a minute to observe his surroundings, smiling at how cute and friendly you had decorated your place. despite the unusual darkness, it was indeed very charming. kazutora thought it suited you very well.

when he kept going further into the hallway, a strange feeling flooded his body. despite his excitement to finally see your face after two weeks, he somehow felt anxious. he didn't know what to expect. had you finally crumbled under the pressure of having no one by your side ? did kazutora break you enough that you'd seek comfort near anyone who would offer you a helping hand, even if that person was him ?

oh how did he want to have you all for himself once again, to have you back in his arms, talking to him with your shy eyes, teeth biting your lips in nervousness and too intimidated to even think about leaving his side.

what sight awaited him inside your room? will you welcome him, tears of relief and happiness flooding your eyes upon seeing someone care about you? after all this time of fighting alone, fending for yourself like a frail lamb when your whole purpose was to rely on others ?

kazutora couldn't wait to become your saviour, to chase away those annoying people who had dared mess with you, even if it was all his fault. you just would have to give him one word, one proof of affection and he'll immediately be on his way to teach them a lesson.

he opened your door, feeling entitled to do so without even asking. he frenetically searched for you, nose instantly trying to pick up your sweet scent. you were curled up between a pile of blankets, frame shaking and your fists desperately clutching the fabric.

he frowned slightly, yet still unaware of the alarming state you were in and approached you slowly. he smiled when he took notice of the teddy bear he had gifted you a few months prior, his chest warming up with pride upon seeing how hard it was pressed against your chest.

he gently called your name, nudging you just a little bit to get you to open your eyes. not wanting to scare you, he made himself as small as possible, voice barely above a whisper and movements as slow as he could.

but you couldn't move an inch and kazutora soon realised that your whole body was burning up, and not from a heat. he checked your forehead, watched how your breathing was weak despite being shaky and finally took in the terrifyingly rotten smell of your scent, nothing like he had expected upon entering your room.

although delusional, his instincts couldn't ignore and misinterpret the distressed pheromones your whole body emitted. reacting immediately to them, he softly caressed your face, removed you from inside the covers and took your worn out body in his arms.

he tried stimulating you by saying your name as kindly as possible, his own body burning up from the stress and creeping guilt slowly consuming him after linking everything together. was that the consequences of his actions? he looked at your face, torn with pain and fear, noticing with horror the purple bruise on your wrist and the equally awful red marks on your neck and arms, some even bleeding.

he showered you with his own pheromones, using nature's ways to force you into a calmer state.

what has he done? was it all his fault? he should've known you weren't this brave and should've known you'd need him sooner. he should've taken the hint and go to you instead of observing you slowly falling apart and delaying the moment when he'd finally come at your rescue.

he watched as you slowly but surely came back to him, eyes blinking up at him, unable to comprehend what was going on. you were all dopey and insanely fragile, your mental state on the verge of a cliff, threatening to fall if you were to be feeling any bit of discomfort.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

surpringly enough, you had warmed up to kazutora faster than he had expected. when anxiety plagued you with its torments, he was the one you instinctively reached out to, his scent carrying a sense of comfort and safety.

it was unfair how he could prevent your mind from torturing you any further when he was the primary culprit. you weren't even able to get a full night of rest because of it, and now you were accorded sleep because he decided it was best for you.

he literally drugged you with his pheromones during the period you were more than vulnerable, unable to take care of yourself. breathing in kazutora's scent whenever you felt down and distressed, had you assimilating it with something close to a safe place.

when you first woke up in his embrace after falling asleep to the sound of his apologies, you tore yourself away from his arms. you trying to move with what little strength you could muster forced his own eyes open, his hand, too quick to not be a reflex, caught your waist, keeping you against his chest.

"let go of me," you whispered after trying to pry yourself away from him, gripping his forearm, desperately wishing to make him move.

"y/n..."

"I said let go of me kazutora. why are you even here ?" cutting him off, you looked at him angrily, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

the pained stare he was met with was enough to make him regret all his actions. sheer betrayal was written all over your face and the scent which once brought you comfort, now only made you uncomfortable. he was too close. his hands tangled with your waist and wrists... you were scared of what they could do to you. he was holding you too tightly. he was afraid you would disappear.

"kazutora, you're hurting me. just what exactly do you want and how did you get in ?" he quickly let go of you, muttering a few awkward apologies.

"...how did you get those bruises ?" he asked after a long silence, partially pleased you weren't ordering him to leave anymore and relieved you didn't push the topic of his intrusion any further.

"keep playing dumb and I might actually get really angry" you had pushed yourself up, refusing kazutora's help and was now sitting, glaring at him.

"please y/n, I assure you I don't know anything. I wouldn't have let anyone hurt you like this..." you chuckled half-heartedly, looking at kazutora's pleading eyes with contempt in yours. you could tell he was taken aback with how things were turning out with how he grabbed your arm softly, as if begging you to please believe him.

"ask your friends, I'm sure they'd love to tell you all the details about what they did."

and with that, you turned your back on him, tired of talking to him who acted like nothing was his fault, as if he hadn't played a huge role in how people treated you.

you were too tired to curse at him and yell for him to get out of your sight, you fell asleep in almost a few minutes this day, not caring if kazutora had anything to tell you or if he was even still there, invading your nest and taking up all the space like he was used to when it came to you.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

upon your confession, kazutora was seeing red, rage fully consuming his body and abandoning him to a state of pure instincts.

he stayed still, observing your steady breathing and the mess he had caused because of his jealousy, hands shaking at the sight of your injured body.

he made sure one last time that you were covered with his pheromones, which, no matter how much you hated them, helped you calm down a bit and have a good night rest like you needed.

he got up, barricaded your door that was slightly broken and left you alone in your apartment, ready to pay a visit to those people he had used to get what he wanted.

you've always been fragile, your nature shaping you to be more delicate than him, but never had he ever seen you this weak and defeated. although he had his response in your current state, he promised himself he would redeem himself, vowing to protect you just like he should've.

and it all starts now, by getting rid of the ones who thought they could go as far as laying a hand on you.

when he came back, he let out a relieved sigh seeing you hadn't move. he threw his now slightly red t-shirt on the floor and went back to your side, pleased with what he did and happy there were a few less threats for you out there.

he kissed your naked shoulder and fell asleep, inhaling your sweet scent he craved so much and swore nothing bad would ever happen again.

kazutora would make sure of it...

[apas-95]

one of the more common manifestations of idealism you can run into among 'progressives' is the notion that intentionality matters significantly more than it actually does.

the principal way you'll see it is as a defense of some sort of privilege: that, for example, people the USA who benefit from imperial spoils, in even something as small as availability of bananas, aren't knowingly deciding to engage in the exploitation of latin america - as though this somehow changes the conditions of the workers harvesting said bananas, or the cheap price they sell for in the US as a result. you'll often also see it assumed, when discussing a given social class acting in its class interests, that such a thing must necessarily mean conscious planning and conspiracy. most often, it'll appear in discussions of bigotry.

the notion, that the intent of a bigot is what generates bigotry, is an idealistic, individualistic notion. it discounts the material, structural nature of systems of oppression, and it explicitly follows that, for instance, someone who behaves in a racist way without knowing so somehow isn't being racist - that A Racist is what someone is inside, rather than racism being something they do. this view of oppression as stemming principally from the thoughts in a bigots head rather than the actual circumstances of the oppressed also leads to other wrong conclusions, like the transphobic notion that trans men are victims of misogyny, rather than transphobia; or that transmisogynists who aggress against trans women are 'man-hating'.

in general, this sort of idealism is deployed to defend against some notion of moral culpability, of being a Bad Person, and serves to excuse harmful behaviours.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Red tipped gloves || Young President!Coriolanus Snow x reader

Summary: The thought of motherhood at such a young age was absolutely terrifying. Though Coriolanus doesn’t seem to understand why.!

Warnings: mention of blood, self harm in the form of picking at nails, toxic Coryo, reader is implied to be young, manipulation, if there's anything else pls lmk

Wc: 811

A/n: I'm so bad with these summaries I can't even.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

A child expecting a child. How messed up was that? You rub the swell of your stomach as you stare at yourself. Youth evident in your still-round cheeks, yet the impending responsibilities cast shadows on the innocence of your features.

Gnawing at your law rips, you smooth down the dress that Coriolanus picked out for you. Dainty, innocent, just like how he liked to dress you up for social events.

Your hands subconsciously move together as you pick at your already picked-at nails. The horrible habit you picked up ever since you got married to Coryo.

Hearing the door suddenly open, you quickly pause your actions, moving your hands behind your back as you turn around to face Coryo.

Noticing your strange behaviour, he pauses to look at you before his eyes move behind you to the reflection of the mirror where you fingers were fidgeting.

Swiftly closing the door, Coriolanus strides purposefully toward you, casting a tall shadow as he towers over. Even in high heels, you find him looming above. “Show me your hands,” he commands, his tone firm and unyielding.

A subtle blend of defiance and confusion colors your expression, causing a faint twitch in your lips. “What?” your voice was too quiet, your tone feigning nervousness. A light gulp accompanies the gentle quiver of your lips.

“I said, show me your hands,” Coriolanus repeats himself, his tone escalating in volume. You release a slow exhale through your nose, carefully extending your hands in front of you. Your eyes, hesitant and uneasy, divert off to the side, catching the subtle nuances of your husband’s frustration as he lets out a sigh.

“I thought you stopped that horrible habit of yours,” he retorted sharply, firmly grabbing your hands as you flinched. A displeased expression crosses his face as he looks down at your fingers—raw and drawing blood—before his gaze shifts to your face, your bottom lip nervously tucked beneath your front teeth.

“I couldn’t help it,” you whisper softly, a hint of shame and embarrassment weaving through your tone, while he exhales deeply through his nose. “I’ll arrange for more gloves to be sent to you before tonight,” he says wearily, gently resting his hands on the curve of your stomach before quietly leaving.

~

Beside Coriolanus, engaged with his fair-weathered friends, you find yourself zoning out, your gaze fixed on the glass of water cradled in your gloved hands. The murmur of conversation fades into the background; you’re simply bored and disinterested in the overly serious discussion.

“Darling,” Coriolanus’ voice, firm yet gentle, pulls your attention as you lift your eyes to find everyone in the group focused on you. “I’m sorry, what was it?” you meekly ask, eliciting light chuckles from the women and amused glances from the men.

Coriolanus holds himself back from rolling his eyes, instead, he takes a large gulp of his posca. “Mrs. Cardew asked you how far along you are,” He smiles down at you, the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh,” you say softly, meeting Mrs. Cardew’s gaze, “28 weeks.” You smile at the older woman, and a few people in the group react with appreciative sounds. Coriolanus pulls you closer to his side, a possessive grasp signaling to those with wandering eyes who you belong to.

As the night wore on, a queasiness settled in your stomach. Socializing with Coriolanus’ friends became exhausting—forcing smiles, feigning excitement for the baby was draining. Leaning in, you whisper in Coriolanus’ ear, “Can I retire to our room? I don’t feel well.”

“Do you really need to? Right now?” he harshly whispers, and you gulp, hesitantly nodding. He sighs, rolls his eyes, and gets up. “Excuse me, my wife needs to rest,” he says to those around you with a fake smile as you quietly apologised.

Hand in hand, Coriolanus leads you to your shared bedroom, forcefully closing the door behind you. It was abundantly clear that he's upset about your early departure from the party.

“Did you just make up an excuse so you could leave the party? Is that it?” Coryo bitterly accuses you as you take a seat on one of the couches. “What? I didn’t make up an excuse. I’m pregnant for heavens sake, Coryo,” You frown, deeply offended by his accusation.

“Yeah, sure,” He chuckles, crossing his arms. “Why is that so hard to believe,” you scoff, mirroring his crossed arms. "Eleanor is in the exact same state as you, and she seemed perfectly fine," he shrugs, his tone nonchalant, causing your lips to part in disbelief.

“Are you seriously comparing me to Eleanor?” You furrow your eyebrows, a touch of frustration in your voice. Ready to counter his unfair comparison, you point out the facts, “She's considerably older than me, has experienced childbirth before. Naturally, she'd feel fine, Coryo."

Coriolanus mumbles something incoherent under his breath, his attitude towards you causing tears to well up in your eyes. His choice of comparison feels like a pointed jab in the most sensitive spot. When you sniffle, your husband's attention is caught. "Are you crying?" he swiftly retorts, his gaze probing, while you avert your eyes, concealing the probable redness.

A soft laugh escapes him, "Honestly, you can be so childish sometimes. Getting upset over that?" He raises an eyebrow at you—ironically so. His comment serves as a spark igniting a blaze within you. How dare he call you childish when you’ve done nothing but act older than you were.

“I just can’t believe you’re comparing me to Eleanor who’s had children before, unlike me who’s fucking terrified at the thought of being a mother,” you spat, the intensity of your emotions evident in your words. Even from a distance, you notice the shift in Coriolanus' eyes, the once-blue depths now darkening with an unspoken tension.

“As the First Lady you’re expected to give me heirs. Now I need a woman who’s ready to give me children, are you going to be her or not?” His words strike a nerve, and you feel your eyes twitch as a headache begins to form.

"Did you even think about that before marrying me, Coryo?" you challenge, your words causing him to furrow his eyebrows. "Because you damn well know I'm not prepared to be a mother. So, why choose me? You could have selected someone else—someone older, someone genuinely willing to birth your children." The air hangs heavy with the weight of your words, leaving a palpable tension between you and Coriolanus.

Your fingers unconsciously pick at your nails, the once-immaculate white gloves now bear crimson stains at the fingertips. Coriolanus' gaze fixates on your hands, and he snaps, swiftly moving towards you to pry your fingers apart. "Stop doing that!" he commands, his tone sharp.

As he moves in, his face is so close that you can feel his breath gently fanning your features. Undeterred, he continues with a venom-laced voice, "You should be thanking me for choosing you, for pulling your family from debt." His eyes, intense and unyielding, bore into yours.

“I could have married someone else. I had a list I could have chosen from who could’ve helped but no, you had to marry me.” you assert, the weight of your words causing a brief shock to cross Coriolanus' face. It's a rare moment where you've left him momentarily speechless.

Breaking the silence, he mutters, "I'll have the servants bring you some medicine." With one final glance, he withdraws, leaving the room. The atmosphere hangs thick with unspoken tensions, the stained gloves and the lingering words serving as tangible reminders of the strain in your relationship.

[argumate]

transgenderer said: very confused by your characterization of TV as beneficial and social media as harmful. either position seems plausible, but not both at once. id consider TV as more harmful than social media, as someone who spent a lot of time watching tv in my childhood and a lot of time on social media in my teens

for TV you have to compare it with the cultural environment pre-1950 and the effect it may have had on why society got so much nicer post-1950.

now of course there were many dramatic changes going on at the same time: child mortality plummeted so we weren't surrounded by tiny skeletons all the time, birthrates slowed and family sizes dropped, we got much richer and ate more food and suffered less disease, lifespans lengthened, everyone learned to read and children started spending more time in school and less time in factories and on farms, etc.

but it's noteworthy that everyone also started spending a couple of hours a day watching television, a giant experiment in mass media (one of many giant experiments we ran on society post-1950).

now, many people assert that it had a negative effect (television shows feature sex, violence, and commercials!) but few people say it had no effect (humans gonna human) and hardly anyone seems to claim it had a positive effect, and I find that a little strange when you think about what television typically shows: highly moralistic narratives that both reflect social norms but also shape them by modeling what we consider to be good behaviour, good relationships, and idealised families, in a context that almost everyone shares, inflected by new elite ideas about psychiatry and psychoanalysis that were obviously very clumsy but a huge leap on what came before.

compare what a child in the '60s or '70s or '80s will learn about what it means to be a child and how adults should act and parents should engage with children and with each other and how the world works compared with a child in the '20s or '30s or '40s; I think the kid raised by television may well have a better baseline in many ways!

this is all anecdotal -- maybe some enterprising academic could do a study where they try to correlate the spread of television with some metrics of social health and disentangle it from the spread of leaded petrol lol -- but there are innumerable examples of the way television is loaded with positive messages, from The Brady Bunch to The Simpsons, even television that was often viewed as antisocial or subversive or potentially harmful at the time.

I mean I was just watching the first few episodes of SVU the other day and amongst all the hard-boiled detective shenanigans and the sensationalism it basically consists of authority figures saying "people do bad things to each other, and even worse sometimes society is unkind to the victim; also rape is a serious issue and women can be cops btw" -- even as copaganda it's a progressive show for the time.

an argument that television is harmful on net needs to account for where the harm is coming from and how it influences people; there are clearly things that would be much better than television as practiced in the 20th century but it seems like a significant improvement on the culture and media environment that preceded it, whether that was vaudeville or public executions.

social media on the other hand is more complicated to analyse because there are so many disparate unrelated things happening on there, it's individualised more like the telephone network or email than broadcast television, even if some general trends are evident.

and social media obviously contains many positive elements -- I love it myself -- but the negative elements are equally obvious; whether it ends up negative on net depends on how you account for them, but it's looking like a much more complicated story than television.

some factors to consider:

the way social media selects for viral spread leads to content that is far more inflammatory than television

"doomscrolling" makes the nightly news broadcast look tame

social media creates an explicit status/attention hierarchy for the world and puts almost everyone at the bottom of it; if the message of television was "you're special" then the message of social media is "you're nothing"

social media permits mob harassment in a way that makes old shows like Jerry Springer look good by comparison

social media appears to be having effects on politics which are not necessarily positive, I would say

social media appears to be damaging gender relations for young people in ways we're still figuring out

youth suicide rates appear to correlate with social media usage

anyway, I think as a society we will develop better cultural antibodies to the worst aspects of social media over time, but so far I think AI in the form of chat bots appears to be more like television (good) and less like social media (bad).

[princessjojo-x]

8th House Venus Synastry

💝 there can be many secrets kept in this rxship or the rxship itself may remain a secret from the public eye, especially since the rxship goes against societal norms in some way & partners engage in rebellious behaviour together: a workplace romance - partners could lose their jobs if the rxship is discovered (boss-employee, teacher-student). closeted affair - partners are already committed to someone else, leading to hidden & secret meetings together. transactional intimacy - there’s typically a big difference in age & wealth between partners (sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamic). harmful rxship - potentially involving drug use or criminal activity. taboo & hidden fetishes - lgbt, bdsm, etc.

💝 initially, venus embodies pluto traits & behaves more tense, feeling both attracted & scared of house. theres a mystery surrounding house that venus can't seem to unravel.

💝 venus eventually grows immense loyalty & deep obsession, finding beauty in houses insecurities, whilst overlooking houses wrongdoings.

💝 this synastry can turn very ugly if feelings are unrequited. venus cannot deal with being rejected by house bc venus feels entitled to house love & attention. rejection makes venus want to put house in their place (the 'place' is upto them) . this can result in harassment, kidnap, black mail, revenge porn, smear campaigns & so on.

💝 venus is able to create a new sexual experience for house or drastically transform houses views on sex.

💝 sex is aggressive & unpredictable, affecting both partners emotionally. moments of intense pleasure are followed by sadness & confusion.

💝 the strong chemistry that’s felt on the first meet & the inherent attachment that’s formed over time suggests it’s unlikely this synastry produces one-night stands.

💝 this aspect produces more feminine themes & energy, when compared to the eighth house mars overlay. this indicates frequent occurrence of guilt trips, emotional outbursts, manipulation & pettiness. for instance, partners may become competitive after separation, dating new people straight away, in attempts to spite one another.

💝 financial dependency & shared assets is a common theme within this synastry. however, money can be used as a tool for manipulation & control. typically, venus financially supports houses lifestyle, but in some cases it may just be financial abuse.

have you experienced this aspect? how did it play out for you?

[xo-codbby]

thinking about playboy!ghost x manhater!reader 🍒🖤

callsign: cherry. 18+

you loved your team but the truth remained the same, men simply sucked. too many times had you been burnt out, learning constant lessons over and over preferring to know someone properly before you introduced them to your bed. while ghost was just purely physical, just needing release. he didn't want to engage in deep conversation, he swore off of love years ago but there wasn't harm in chasing gratification for his physical needs even if he left a string of broken hearts behind him

ghost is cocky in the fact that he knows he looks good, he knows he has women at his disposable without saying a word. his bed warmed by frequent visitors, many wanting to come back but not getting the chance to. a soft scoff leaving your lips whenever you see a woman hanging onto his arm, practically lapping at his every word. the sight makes you recoil away but it only makes him want to aggravate you that much more

absolutely hating one another when you both first met.

according to him, you were too stuck up. your terrible attitude, your prudish behaviour, little miss know it all. he disliked it all and you had been the same, his arrogant cocky personality paired with his unbearable sarcasm. just another womaniser. you disliked him more than words could explain.

and yet the line between hate and love was a fine line indeed

getting teased around base relentlessly by him

"c'mere cherry, let me show you how to let off some steam-" "fuck right off"

ghost constantly offering you a quick lay whenever the team finished up a particularly stressful mission. gaz and soap chuckling at the snark you gave back, the only one to your defence was price offering a gentle hand and a stern look to ghost who rolled his eyes

but him getting so jealous when you get the attention of another man, when he sees you talking to someone else around the barracks it felt different. it felt intimate, too close for his liking. and with some forceful persuasion from price, he found out the new sergeant had taken a liking to you. and regrettably, you were starting to feel something for him too. he doesn't know why it pisses him off so much but he'll be damned if he doesn't wreak hell on the bastard

his absolute favourite way to piss you off is inviting a woman to his bed, making her scream and moan out his name as loud as he can,

"that's all y'can do f'me? louder doll, lemme hear just how good it feels"

as he's thrusting so deep into her cunt but it doesn't feel the same like it used to. he won't be able to cum until he's imagining your face, imagining the pretty sounds he'd coax from your lips.

how his cock would throb deep into your willing pussy, how he'd rub the tip of aching cock against your entrance relishing in the way you squeezed him so tightly. the very sight almost makes him groan out your name, even the thought of tasting your slick makes him shiver in anticipation.

and of course it's your room beside him, you're subjected to listening this woman's moans and how great he's making her feel. a warm feeling stirring deep between your legs but you refuse to engage in his stupidity cursing at him as you throw yet another book at the wall. the sounds only stir him on, competing with you who could make the loudest sounds.

it's only when price, again, yells out a sharp command from the depths of his room that it's silence once more

the next morning you're woken up by gaz and soap laughing and hooting at him, heading to the kitchen to see his dark brown eyes twinkle as he looks at you. he stands against the counter, a mug of tea in his hands. his balaclava pulled up over his nose while he eyes you up and down stalking your every move

"an' how'd you sleep, cherry?"

his voice is a hoarse rumble from having woken up, his cocky grin as he looks at you over. wondering if you had touched yourself to his sounds he let spill just for you, wondering whether you squeezed your legs tightly or grinded against the pillow for some relief

but your eyes roll and brows furrow, not wanting to entertain his bullshit. only offering a smartass comment as you look back at your phone. the very sight makes him want to pounce on you, to show you what you were missing

but say one day you get your heart broken and the feelings come head to head, piss drunk as you knock thrice on his door watching him open with a disgruntled look on his face

"bloody 'ell, y'gonna bash my door in-"

doesn't even get the words out before you've pulled him to your face and kissing him feverishly, the door slamming shut behind you both. but when you get to the bed, the alcohol and the heightened emotions lull you into a deep sleep as he sighs softly. looking around before setting you down and laying next to you. grumbling softly how you're lucky to be sleeping in his bed

he doesn't even have sex but he swears it's the most intimate he's ever been with someone

so playboy ghost, the man who would pay for ladies ubers so they wouldn't sleep in his personal space, the man who chose to fuck casually with no feeling, the man who swore off love altogether held you captive in his arms snuggling into you.

the very man who broke the vow he made not to ever get entangled with emotions had clung to you like you were his lifeline in a torrential sea and you had escaped his clutches like a thief in the night like he had done so many times to others. and perhaps if he wasn't so heartbroken he might've laughed at the irony of the situation, what comes around goes around

[zais-zafu]

false gods ruling ur life

& the power of focus

hi everyone! today I wanna talk about how we create false gods in our lives, how that harms us, and the importance of directing our focus! this is a topic that has been on my mind recently as I think it is foundational to everyone who wants to work on their mindset, mental diet, and manifest better life outcomes.

table of contents

1. ways we create false gods in our lives

2. the harm of false idolisation and victimisation

3. the power of focus and attention

p.s: I do believe in god but I believe this post is still helpful from an loa/spiritual persective. so, with that being said, let's discuss!

✿ part 1: ways we create false gods in our lives

I'd say there two main ways we do that: making ourselves smaller and making others bigger.

when we make ourselves small, we victimise ourselves becoming paranoid about the world and thinking that others have this special advantage over you. I see this a lot in the loa community where some believe that others have some kinda special knowledge and power that they don't posses, when in reality it is just them being more disciplined, more consistent, and more trusting of loa.

it could also be about feeling insignificant in the face of your circumstances. like thinking that the 3d (physical reality) is what is ruling your life and not ur mind. also believing in conspiracies and secret society theories or ideas that are designed to instill fear within you, making u think that someone is out there to get you.

as for making others bigger in your mind, this happens a lot in celebrity and fan culture when you start seeing them as more than human. also when you idolise other people's attention (for example: analysing others behavours around you and ruminating over negative meanings of it). and also you pay wayyyy too much attention to other people’s lives like your peers and worrying too much about competition, not realising that there's no competition when you are your own life's creator.

essentially, when you start worrying/thinking too much about something or someone outside yourself, you have formed a false god in your mind.

✿ part 2: the harm of false idolisation and victimisation

so what's the harm in that? well first, it is such a waste of time and energy on something that won't serve you. also it will only create unnecessary worry and anxiety within your mind. you start to see yourself as powerless and your life as out of ur control. you might also engage in behaviours that cause you to lose yourself in the process, such as people pleasing.

your life will become vapid and shallow since your focus is on shit that really doesn't matter. you will also start to associate this great amount of omnipotence and power with something other than god (if u believe in one), bankrupting you spiritually. like you are some insignificant string being pulled along by someone more powerful than you or god, or by circumstances that you believe you cannot change.

small tip: whenever you start to worry too much remind yourself that you are starting to create a false god in your mind. this works wonders for me to quickly disengage from unhelpful thoughts and remind myself of my power.

✿ part 3: the power of focus and attention

obviously, if you practice lao, you know that what you focus on is what you create. if you dwell in other people's lives or opinions, you're then not dwelling enough in the life you wanna create. focus is like a currency to what you wanna see play out in your life: what you pay attention to is what you prioritise and is what you will get more of.

in my case, when I started focusing on the life I wanna live, that's when opportunities, successes, etc. started flooding my life.

and that also applies to what you consume cos your mental diet is hugely shaped by your media diet. basically, what you consume (see, hear) and create (say, think) creates patterns of belief in your mind, materialising in reality.

ofc, you can always engage something outside of you that entertains you but don’t lose sight of your own live’s vision. really consider whether what your're watching is adding to your life somehow. make sure you’re using it, not it using you.

a big example of that is social media: you can either curate the perfect fyp to see posts that make you happy, remind you that your dream life is possible, serve as loa tips/reminders or you could consume content that is designed to suck you in and make you angry, anxious, or hopeless.

you decide.

another related term to focus that I wanna talk about is presence and how it is essentially the key to living a happy life.

when you focus on what truly matters, you find excitement and passion again, creating a life you're proud of. being present and focusing on yourself also allows you to practice intentional and mindful living. so you take your time to do the things you care about, you connect back to your spirituality, you realise that you’re more than a physical vessel, and you find yourself again beneath all of society's chatter.

this ultimately builds confidence and trust within you: you become an inspired creator instead of a powerless victim around the people who you look up to and also with 3d circumstances, which you now understand are just past relfections of old beliefs and are easily changeable.

and I think holding such mindset is beautiful :)

anddd, that's all! hope this was a helpful mindset shifting technique for y'all.

talk to you again soon <3

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

[dinsbeskar]

Wicked Game (Sauron/F!Reader)

He knows he shouldn't covet you, that he is above such earthy things as love. So why does he stalk you in the forests you call home? It's love at first sight, and the feeling is mutual; or:

Sauron engages in some light stalking and gets the girl somehow.

Prequel to In the Dark of the Night // AO3 Link

Songs to listen to: Wicked Game / Beautiful Stranger / Iris

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way

What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

Warnings: 18+! Smut, fluff, lil bit of angst, P in V sex, fingering, licking/biting. Sauron!! He's super creepy, sorry, idk what to say, there's some stalking, some creepy behaviour, he's a bit unhinged. Love at first sight!! Like babe it's been an afternoon, calm down. Anyway we move fast!!

A/N: bro is head empty, no thoughts, down bad in this, sorry!! in this house we subscribe to the 'elves fuck once and they're married for eternity' idea, so there's that tiny spoiler for you!

Word Count: 6.2k!

Mairon was already old when he met you, unfathomably ancient in fact, wandering Arda and beholding the power of creation, amongst other things. He was sure he had already experienced everything there was on the physical plain, but you would prove him wrong indeed. When the first Elves awoke, he felt a pull, like many of the Ainur, to see the new life that now roamed the forests and plains they had sung into being. He was not the first spirit to stumble across the peoples of Middle Earth, and he would not be the last. Watching your people dance and sing and create gave him new inspiration to take back to Aulë's forge, to bring order and balance to your lives as he saw fit, for who could know better than he?

Today was a feast day, when all of your people were out in the forest hunting and foraging, mirthful song filling the glades as you ran barefoot through the trees, breathless with laughter and exertion, carrying a basket of berries meant for the evening's festivities. Pale golden light streamed through the leafy canopy, dust motes floating in the rays and sparkling like the stars above. You looked around for your companions, a little far off beyond the thicket you had picked through for its fruit. Unperturbed, you continued, hearing the silvery sound of water flowing somewhere in the vicinity. A drink or a dip was almost certain, you thought, to refresh you and your companions before the feast, but you would find it first and save them from searching. Soft birdsong and rustling leaves accompanied by a warm breeze made for the perfect setting; how could you wish for more?

He makes a great effort to be silent, not wishing to frighten you, unsure of how his sudden appearance might affect you. After all, you hadn't heard him the countless times before, why should you now? He matches your footsteps, remaining in step with you behind the trees in the merciful shadow, careful not to disturb the undergrowth, picking carefully through the wildflowers that scent the air. Your pointed ears prick up at a rustle in the trees, and you snap your head round to investigate. He darts behind a gnarled oak tree, holding his breath and awaiting your discovery. You smile and shake your head softly; what could you possibly be afraid of in these forests, your home for decades? You continue following the sound of the stream up ahead, ignoring all other sounds in the forest now, much to his satisfaction. How innocent you are, how much you need his protection, for what would you do if there were forces that wished to subdue you or do you harm? The glint in his eye grows as he draws closer, still choosing to remain hidden from you. He could use his powers to disguise himself, to stalk you unnoticed almost hand in hand with you, and had done on a few occasions, close enough to smell your soft hair, even to take a few strands for himself, but somehow he likes this better, imagining you the innocent prey to his stealthy predator, a thrill at the though of catching you rushing through him as quickly as he pushes it away. He only wants to watch you, to know you, to observe, nothing more. What interest could you possibly have in one another beyond curiosity?

The first time he saw you, many moons ago, you'd been surrounded by your fellow Elves, dancing in harmony in a field of wildflowers, sweet music in the air. He hadn't thought much of you at first if truth be told, you were all very much alike; all fair and graceful, joyful and innocent. It was only when the music picked up, your dance became faster and more frenetic, that an Elf with long golden hair had tripped and fallen, disrupting the rhythm, leaving all your companions giggling at her misfortune. He too had laughed at her stumble, grateful that the music covered his sudden outburst, but then he noticed you, with your hand outstretched and a comforting smile to greet your fallen comrade, who shook herself off while you picked stray leaves from her hair. She seemed unhurt, and no one else was concerned, already having resumed their merriment, but you held back a moment to check she was well. He was instantly captivated, itching to reveal himself and carry you off, to protect the light within you, or consume it wholly. The tiny semblance of self-restraint he had left held him back, told him to wait and observe, to absorb all he could about you; the idea of you rejecting his advances was intolerable, triggering waves of nauseous anger throughout his being. No, patience would serve him, and so he had waited, oh so patiently. Your kindness had, and would, be your undoing.

Illuminated up ahead is the stream you've been chasing; it's small, barely a trickle, but you follow it regardless. The water is cool and clear and refreshes your worn feet, and you lift your dress to keep it clear as you pad down the river bed, feeling the sandy mud between your toes being washed away as you lift your feet into the current. The light is beginning to fade now, you know you should turn back, but you're sure there is a pool nearby, and it would feel so good to swim a little before getting back to the others. They could share in it tomorrow, but today you could bask in some sweet time alone.

He has been following your softly trodden path in the mossy forest floor, but when he reaches the water's edge, it vanishes. Cursing, he casts about, searching for a hint of your next steps. He had only stopped for a moment, distracted by the way your hair catches the light, your graceful smile, the way your dress flows over your frame. A fleeting thought of taking that same dress off you, the image of you pliant underneath him, all had left him breathless, frankly caught unawares, still unused to the urge to get close to you even after all this time, and the strange feelings that coursed through his fair form that he had never experienced before setting his gaze upon you. He had passed a few golden afternoons like this - perhaps many if he were ever honest - watching and waiting for you, but every occasion felt like a lifetime, which for Mairon was indeed no understatement.

Frustration coursed through him, filling the pit of his stomach with a strange churning at the thought of losing you; it was a feeling he couldn't quite place, nor come to terms with. These mortal forms were not for him, he decided, the lack of clarity in these feelings was suffering enough, and he turned to leave, embarrassed now that he had let it get this far. It was a foolish errand, carried out once too often, following you through the forest with no thought but to see what you would do if you only turned around, saw him, embraced him-

A sharp crack rang out through the trees as he snapped a branch under his feet in his haste, all thoughts of moving in the shadows abandoned as his self-admonishment moved him to run, to leave now before he could become entangled with you. But as he scolded himself for his lack of self control, he heard you call out.

"Who's there? Did you find me? And here I was, hoping for some peace," you laugh, expecting your friends to join you as you wade in the crystal clear waters.

Your eyes widen and you stare at the stranger who appears as if from the shadows themselves, a small smile gracing his face. He is ethereal, and frankly you have never beheld a being more beautiful, but for the first time in your life, a small voice deep in your mind advises caution.

"I didn't mean to startle you, young one," his smooth voice reaches your ears and sends tingles from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

"You didn't," you lie, after a long pause, not wanting to discomfort him any more than he seemed to be. Blood rushed to your face as he regards you intensely, as if you'd met before.

"Were you looking for something? The pool perhaps? It is a warm day, I couldn't be too surprised to find someone else had the same idea." You gesture to yourself with your skirts around your waist, legs submerged.

He steps closer, still regarding you, his smile widening. You had said something right apparently, and you couldn't shake the feeling of satisfaction that his lovely smile gave you; as long as he kept looking at you like that, you felt you might be content forever, such were the tender pangs your heart suddenly felt in his presence. You didn't even know his name, and so immediately you ask.

"I have many names," he articulates carefully, eyes on yours, unblinking.

"So what name should I use for you?" You ask teasingly, beginning to step out of the water, wringing the edges of your skirts out.

Unthinking he stretches out his hand, and as if on instinct, you take it, not needing the assistance but immediately grateful you took it. His hand is warm and strong, and encircles yours comfortingly, fitting perfectly. A wave of some strange feeling overtakes you, a heat beginning in your abdomen, flowing through you. You've never experienced it before, but from what you have heard from your married kin, it might be called lust.

Your face feeling hot now, you look away, anywhere but at this beautiful stranger, and notice a small dark stain blooming on his shoe. Your eyes widen and you drop to your knees to look closer, unheeding of the change in his stance as he takes you in from above. What magic could you wield over him in this position, he wonders.

"You're hurt, my lord," you motion to his foot, and he realises that in his trance, the branch had broken his sole and pierced his flesh. The pain had gone unnoticed until now, your spell over him seeming to soothe any ill in his body or soul, but now that you'd pointed it out, he winced and cursed this body of flesh and bone, so easily vulnerable to the perils of mortality, even if his fëa was not.

"Come, let me look at it, it might be serious," you beckon him to follow you to a fallen tree trunk, lying oh so conveniently on its side, as if waiting for two lovers to take their seats on its bark. He stands awkwardly, watching you, his brow furrowed as if he had no idea what you have planned, before you laugh and pull him to sit. Without ceremony, you strip him of his shoe and examine the wound.

"That is a lot of blood for such a small wound," you murmur, tracing the arch of his foot. You find yourself touching his skin a fraction too long, and without looking at him, you straighten and go back to the pool.

His eyes never leave you, even as you avoid his gaze, ripping a strip of gauzy fabric from your dress and wetting it, before hurrying back. Almost imperceptible to the average observer, your hands shake, but he is not the average observer, and he has observed you for quite a while now. You're nervous, he realises with a tiny smirk, and it thrills him, sending a delicious shiver down his spine. All these new feelings this body gave him, they don't appear to cease evolving while you're this close, close enough that he feels your breath on his skin and nearly gasps. He needs to pull himself together, but try as he might, alas, your kindness was intoxicating. He had known such goodness in Aman when he'd dwelt there with his kin, if you could call them that, but his recent company was somewhat lacking in that department.

You sit back on your haunches and look once more at the wound, now nearly clean and seemingly smaller than it had been. Shrugging to yourself, you carefully dab away the blood that still drips onto the ground beneath you, soaking into the moss and ferns; you don't notice how they seem to brown and wilt with each drop.

"Is everything alright, my lady?" He asks, quick to notice your confusion, eager to distract you from the plants at your knees.

His lady, that did sound delightful. You know it is a manner of speech, but for a moment it is rather blissful to imagine it, the lady to this gracious lord.

"I think I might have overestimated how badly you were injured, it seems to be only a scratch," you reply, still a little bemused as to the disproportionate amount of blood. How were you to know that he could heal himself with nary a thought.

You start to pull away, but he is reluctant to let you go so soon, wishing for a moment it had been a serious matter, that he would require all of your gentle care and undivided attention for the foreseeable future, kicking himself that he didn't allow the wound to fester and bloom. He casts about for any excuse and uncharacteristically lands on a weak one.

"Your dress, my lady, how can I make it up to you? After all, your efforts ought not be in vain." He knows how to ingratiate himself with most folk, and makes the most of his skills to do so, but there is a tiny part of him now that actually feels he owes a kindness in return. It's an alien notion, and he attempts to brush it aside, but as he lingers in your presence, he realises that he would sooner abduct you from this glade than let you leave him, and if a kindness is what it will take, then he will fulfil it.

A small crinkle appears in your brow, then you glance down at the torn hem and chuckle.

"It is nothing, my lord, easily fixed, and anyone would have done the same." You graciously reply.

The way you look up at him through your lashes, his heart skips a beat; he didn't even know it could do that.

Your small nervous smile becomes radiant, beaming even, as you bask in the glow of the dappled light illuminating his face. You realise you don't want him to leave just yet, inexplicably drawn to his presence, and you cast about for any reason at all that would keep him here.

"I'm afraid your shoe is a little wet." To your credit, it actually is wet, full of blood, but in an inexplicable act to scupper his departure, before he can react and you can elaborate, you find yourself holding it on the water's edge.

Your hands move faster than your brain, and you drop it into the shallows, looking him dead in the eye.

For a moment, all is still between you, and you bite your lip, your mischievous grin suddenly uneasy as your mind catches up with you and you consider what in all of Middle Earth you just did. This is a total stranger, an ethereallly beautiful one at that, and you have no idea how he will react to your escapade. You straighten and wring your hand a little behind your back, awaiting a wrath that would never come.

"It would appear it is very wet, my lady." And he throws back his head and laughs long and hard, a sound that you want to elicit from him again and again.

When you are lying entwined together, many years and hardships later, he will ask you what you were thinking, and as ever you answer him honestly: you only wanted him to stay, however you had to do it.

With a playful laugh, you retrieve the sodden shoe and shake it off, before holding it out to him. He can still leave, you think, but it will be mighty awkward.

He takes it, throws it behind him, kicks off his other shoe, and shrugs off his robe. Your mouth falls open a little and you lick your lips unconsciously, as his frame is revealed, taut and lean, through his thin shirt. He rucks up his trousers and joins you in the shallow water, shivering a little at the sensation.

Instinctively, you outstretch your hand to steady him, and he takes it without thinking. His touch soothes any nerves you had and sparks a fire that seems to trail up your arm and end in your aching chest. You hadn't noticed you were holding your breath and slowly exhaled, careful not to alert him to your sudden onslaught of sensation. He considers you for a moment, smile tugging at his lips, seemingly fascinated by where you are joined, fingers entwined. And then he has a mad idea.

The tension in the air is cut by a sudden splash of water on your face, and as you clear your eyes, you realise he was the one that had thrown it. He had seen many an elf play-fighting in the water all the time, throwing it at one another joyously, victory seemingly determined by who doused their opponents the most. He had never partaken, obviously, but now inspiration took him, and you had made the first move with his shoe, but now as he watched your face screw up with indignation, water in your eyes and hair, he wasn't so sure it was the right jest with which to entice you.

For a moment you are dumbfounded. This stranger, whose name you still didn't even know, whom you'd only met in the last hour, had started a water fight.

Seemingly affronted, you snatch your hand away and make to leave, turning your back to him. His face falls and he realises this was probably not the way to win your affections.

"My lady, I-" his apology is cut short by an armful of water to the face, as you reach down into the pool and swing as much as you can in his general direction in one fell swoop.

Cackling with triumphant laughter, you can't help but feel a little sorry for him as he stands there absolutely sopping wet, eyebrows in his hairline, looking positively flabbergasted. Unfortunately for you, his eyes narrow as he realises your subterfuge, and the game commences.

It is over soon enough, the two of you emerging soaked and giggling like children, having run rings around each other and giving as good as you got, both of you thoroughly avenged. As you both wade back to shore, he takes your hand and holds it in the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies, I present the victor of the battle-"

He is interrupted by the both of you breaking down into breathless laughter once again, two strangers no more.

On the sandy bank, he climbs out first, and awaits you, but you hold back.

"What should I call you then, my lord, unless that is what you prefer to be named?" You have to ask, needing introductions now you had so thoroughly beaten him in battle, never mind your fascination with him, the overwhelming urge to pull him close.

"I have many names, my lady, and you have not yet told me yours," he replies, almost but not quite frowning at you, confused as to why it really matters, why you would need to know who he is after having passed such a pleasurable afternoon together.

"You first, I asked you before and you avoided the question." Your expression is now serious; why would he want to conceal himself from you, after you had passed such a pleasurable afternoon together?

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I have many names, but the one I prefer," he holds his breath a little, still unsure as to how you might receive him, "is Mairon."

After a long pause, in which he considers fleeing, or possibly burning the forest down, your expression brightens as you mull over his name, feel it in your mouth, wonder over the meaning.

"That is beautiful," you murmur, "the admirable? You must be something wonderful to have earned such a name, my lord."

Relief washes over him as he realises his true name must not yet be known in these parts; rumours and slander would not colour his attempts to woo you after all.

His gaze softens as he watches you taste his name on your tongue, and he has a sudden aching longing to know what it sounds like when you're on your back and breathless under him. Surely nothing could be sweeter.

"And you, love, what am I to call you?" He is so struck by you, he barely notices the crucial detail that slips from his lips, but you do, and you regard him with a strange look he can't place.

Love, he said, so casually and so delicious to hear, your breath hitches and for a second the world spins. You've only just met this man, if he is even a man, and he uses such pet names as if you've known each other a lifetime.

"Amarië, that's what everyone calls me." You had almost forgotten he had asked, and it was only the silence between you that reminded you to answer.

"Goodness. A fitting name for so virtuous a maiden." He steps closer, still on the bank, oh so tall above you, the light through the trees illuminating him from behind, leaving his features in shadow.

Of course, he already knew your name, and had always thought it fitting. Indeed, it was one of the reasons he had hesitated to approach you, for surely one so good could not possibly want nor need one such as him, despite the ache in his heart that told him you were his to take, the rest of Arda be damned. He knew his purpose in Arda was a valiant one; his methods, however, he was aware they were... contestable.

Your face grows hot at his compliment, and you look down and away, anywhere but at his gaze, currently fixed on you, intense and contemplative. He gently lifts your chin, seeming to study your every feature, every nuance in your expression until he sees what he desires.

A shadow passes over his face, before he tightens his grip and finally pulls you from the shallow water. You stumble a little, but he is right there to catch you, strong arms around you as your free hand is crushed between you, pressed against his chest. His eyes are dark, scaring you and thrilling you all at once, like a wolf studying its prey before their total annihilation. Then he takes your face in his hands and claims your lips, as if he's finally satisfying some dark long-held urge, and you cannot help but melt.

It is as if he has done this a thousand times before, teasing you with his tongue, demanding entrance to your mouth as if he wants to drown in you.

Electric tingles spread over your skin everywhere he touches, from your neck where he grips you softly, to your lips he has claimed for his own, to your waist that he refuses to yield from his embrace.

He is unrelenting, refusing to let you come up for air, even as you claw at his arms for release. Finally he seems to realise his mistake and pulls back, lips swollen and parted in pleasure. You take a deep breath, chuckling a little as you do so.

"You are no Elf, my lord Mairon," you remark, righting your dress and smoothing your hair where he had wound his fingers.

With a slightly apologetic smirk, he nods. "I am something far greater, my love, so from time to time, I might forget such... intricacies."

In this moment, you feel as though your heart might burst, wanting him close, touching you, encircling you. But a shiver travels down your spine as the little voice whispering warnings becomes a scream, beholding him not as an ethereal being sent to ravish you, but a danger to ruin you. It was all too brief and you shook it off, for how could this beautiful creature ever mean you harm?

Evening becomes night, and you migrate from the tree trunk to the forest floor. Nestled into him with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, you share the basket of berries that will surely be missed at the feast of your kin, and talk for hours about everything and nothing. He tells you of his work, that he is a smith and loves nothing more than to create beautiful things, but he has never had more exquisite inspiration than you.

He seems to know just what to say, soft words whispered only to please you, and all you want is more. He traces his fingers up and down your arm, across your collarbone, into the shell of your ear, idly mapping every inch of you.

He doesn't press you further than gentle touches and tiny kisses peppering your skin. Perhaps though he is no Elf, he is aware of your people's customs, that to give yourself to him in body would be to make the two of you one forever, body and soul. You're not so sure that isn't what you want, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless; after all, you have only known him an afternoon.

It takes all of his self-restraint to suppress the urge to take you here and now, after all, who were you to stop him? But he wanted you when you were ready for him, mind, body, and soul, and he was willing to wait, even if it took an age. Admittedly it would be a difficult wait, he muses, as he realises the close proximity of your body to his is having an unexpected effect on him. He shifts position to avoid you noticing how hard he is just from touching you, and he prays to any of the Valar who might have an ear for him that his wait for you will be swift.

You twirl a tiny flower idly between your forefinger and thumb, gazing up at the heavens, your other hand wrapped in his. You are such exquisite inspiration, he muses, smirking as he realises he can have you after all. He sits up, making you groan, robbed of his warmth.

"What are you doing, love?" You complain, taking a slightly petulant tone that makes him chuckle.

"You'll see, patience is a virtue," he reaches out with his closest hand and smoothes your hair, gesturing for you to lie back down.

You kick your feet a little, suitably admonished but impatient still.

"Come back to me, I had just got comfortable, and you've ruined it now!" You laugh at him, his back turned to you so you can't make out what he is doing.

You sigh long and loud, earning an affectionate chuckle, before you lay back down and close your eyes. It is but a few moments later that he grasps your hand and pulls you up to face him. When you see what he has readied, you gasp, tears pricking your eyes.

Purple irises grow with literal wild abandon in these fields and you had always loved them, weaving them in your hair and stitching their image on your garb. In his hand, perched on his fingertips as if it is the most precious thing in creation, is a tiny iris in full bloom, its slender stem wound and plaited into a ring, with its gorgeous indigo flower crowning it like no diamond ever could.

He is on his knees in front of you, ring in hand, and for a second you cannot quite put the pieces together. You have known him a day, if that? It is a beautiful gift, but can you accept the deeper meaning behind it, that seems to lie in his expression, if not his words.

"It is beautiful, my lord," you sigh, "I think I shall require your aid in putting it on, it is so delicate after all."

Your heart aches at his wide smile, the crinkle of his eyes as he wordlessly slips it onto the fourth finger of your left hand, which surely he cannot know would mean-

"I would make you mine, my love, if you would have me," he murmurs, heart beating out of his chest, sentiment momentarily making him soft and weak for you.

So he does know the significance, and in an instant you feel as though you've been doused in liquid fire, nerves tying your stomach in knots, regarding his gift on your finger with equal parts trepidation and excitement.

You close the space between you and grasp his face with both hands, claiming his lips for your own, fingers travelling to his hair and over the pointed tips of his ears. He moans deep in his chest and pushes you backwards into your makeshift bed, peppering you with kisses until all your skin is ablaze.

"I am yours," you breathe, words so soft he might have missed them, had you not whispered directly into his ear, clutching his neck and whimpering as he maps every uncovered inch of you he can reach with his lips.

He groans, a noise so guttural it surprises you in the best way, sending a wave of arousal to between your legs. He rolls his hips against yours, and you feel something hard against your mound, through all the layers of fabric between you.

The stars blaze above you, hot and bright, but they have nothing on the way he makes you feel. You have heard of love at first sight, but never thought it might happen to you, that it was rare enough if it happened at all.

His hot breath trails down your neck to your collarbone, and his clever fingers work to unlace you from the fabric shielding you from his gaze. He stops a moment, breathing heavily.

"Tell me you want this -" his silver tongue licks your ear and sucks at your neck. "Tell me you need this."

His gaze is so heated, and his voice rough with arousal, that you clench your legs together to relieve that ache that has been building there since you met him. It seems like forever ago now, impossible that it has not even been a day.

"I need you," you hiss, desperate for any touch he'll bestow upon you. "...I'll always need you, now that I have you, I can't let you go."

Your words shatter the last remaining resolve he had not to ruin you, and he takes you as his own. Stripping every inch of you until you are bare before him, desperate for his skin on yours, he wraps you in his arms, legs entwined with yours. The violent urge to claim you was not satisfied, but he would have plenty of time to show you all of him; tonight was your wedding night, and you deserved what gentleness he could provide.

He runs his fingers through your slick, fascinated by how wet you are for him. Perhaps these mortal forms were not so bad after all.

You moan his name and beg for more, though you cannot possibly know what you are asking for. His lascivious grin sends tremors through you, a swooping feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you there is no going back now.

He loosens himself from his trousers, shucks them off almost clumsily in his haste to be inside you. He is beautiful, you reflect, as you take in his bare torso, his strong legs, and all the flesh in between. His size shocks you a little and you wonder how he plans to use it.

He sees your eyes widen and immediately covers you with his body, kissing softly at your neck so to better hear your tiny sounds of pleasure. In time he will make you scream, he vows.

"It's alright, love," he reassures you with a soft smile, "I've got you, I won't let it hurt."

His fingers move in comforting circles in the small of your back, at the apex of your thighs, across your mound. He gathers the slick from your entrance, readying himself with a stroke. He is already so painfully hard, but he has to come inside you, no way will he waste his seed on the forest floor.

He holds your gaze as he lowers himself to between your thighs, wrapping your legs around him.

"Pull me to you, love, make me yours," he pants, cock straining at your entrance, waiting for you to take the plunge.

It's like standing at a precipice; the fear of falling is so closely tied to the fear of jumping. But you bite your lip and dig your fingernails into his back, tighten your calves, and pull his lower body into yours.

You want to scream, the stretch is too much, he is too big and he's hitting somewhere delicious inside you that makes you see stars. He doesn't move, letting you feel all of him, relishing in you taking him like the good girl you are.

"Well done, love, so good for me, you feel so fucking good," he exhales, towering over you while the moon illuminates him from behind, leaving his expression inscrutable.

His fingers on your abdomen are so soothing, the stinging stretch you felt disappears, leaving only white hot pleasure in its wake. You begin to move your hips against him, aching for more friction, more skin on yours, you'd take anything he would give you.

At first his movements are slow and rhythmical, as if you are made of glass, but your impatient whines encourage him to release himself upon you, snapping his hips in time to your thrusts against him, endlessly surprised but thrilled at your eagerness to please him. He has chosen so well.

The intensity of the moment gets the better of both of you, and before long you are chanting his name in his ear, chasing your inevitable ruin on his cock.

He comes first, much to his eternal embarrassment, unable to prevent spilling inside you as your tight cunt clenches his flesh. You feel him pulse inside you and it tips you over the edge, a silent scream on your lips as fire overtakes your flesh and leaves you drowning in him.

For a second, you behold each other as you truly are, not in body but spirit, and it terrifies you; you see something black as the darkest night throwing off flames that lick at your being, triggering that sick swooping feeling in your abdomen again. He is enthralled by you, bright and radiant like the morning star, and he wants to coat himself in your light, drink it in and burn all of Arda until there is nothing but the two of you in the cosmos.

His attentions to your neck slow and he leans back to look at you in all your glory, radiant under him in body and soul, as you lazily trace his hips with your fingers, coming down from your high and needing nothing more than to be held.

"You did so well, my love, so good for me," he whispers as he releases you from his grasp, laying you down beside him and pressing himself against your back with his arm slung over your torso possessively.

Your eyes begin to droop with the lateness of the hour and the exertion of your wedding night, and while he murmurs in your ear how much he loves you, how proud he is of you, how much he needs you, you take his hand and sleepily press a kiss to his palm. You snuggle in closer as he draws his robe around the pair of you against the night's chill, and slowly drift off, a smile on your face even in sleep.

He gazes at you adoringly, murmuring sweet nothings as your body relaxes into his.

"Beautiful girl, only mine," his voice is so soft yet somehow it finds you even as you begin to slumber. "My sweet wife, we will know peace together, I swear it to you."

He wants to claw inside his own chest and pull his treacherous heart out with his bare hands, for surely that pain would be easier to bear than this. He curses himself for being so weak, and you for being so tempting, before closing his eyes to join you.

He thought by having you, possessing you, that these feelings might be assuaged, that the urgency he felt to be near you would fade, and he could move on from this unique torment. Alas they had increased a hundredfold, and he swore on his fëa itself that no harm would ever come to you, that he would cherish you all his days.

What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

No, I don't wanna fall in love with you

[chartreuseschaos]

This user is supportive towards all paraphilias.

Paraphilia is an uncomfortable, highly stigmatized topic wrongly associated inherently with committing abusive acts, making it near impossible to create compassionate, educational, and fair conversation about it. It is crucial not to let disgust rule your better judgment when it comes to this topic.

The term Paraphilia was coined in 1904 by ethnologist Friedrich Salomon Krauss as a way to describe an orientation that fell outside of the norm, at the time this was considered any sexual behaviour that didn't serve the purpose of procreation. Nowadays it is primarily used as an identity label by those with taboo orientations.

Some of the population happens to have orientations which include abusive, unsanitary, obscure, or otherwise taboo preferences, some of which cannot be acted upon due to the non-consensual harm they will cause. I firmly believe caring about preventing abuse requires an indepth understanding of paraphilias.

The truth is that a signficant amount of sexual offenses are commited opportunistically to exert power, rather than done by someone who genuinely has a paraphilic orientation. I am however not going to sugarcoat the reality that some individual paraphiles do offend.

In order for paraphiles to lead a positive life, it is important they are not shamed, especially not for what they haven't done. Framing them as disgusting monsters who are doomed to offend is not going to prevent them from offending. Ostracization and self-hatred will actually more likely encourage offense, for they might feel like they have no positive experience of life to protect anyway. It is not encouraging to do good whatsoever when it feels like no one in the entire world will ever have a kind thought about you. This is not an excuse to offend, what I'm trying to say is that this hateful, stigmatizing attitude towards paraphiles prevents honest and open conversation about paraphilias, therefor prevents paraphiles access to information and understanding about themselves, therefor brings forth more acts of entirely preventable offense.

Conversion therapy is considered an inhumane practice when it comes to queer people, so why should it be any different for paraphiles? Through things like art, writing, dolls, roleplay, and fantasies, paraphiles can engage with their paraphilias in ways that objectively do not cause harm. What they do evoke in many is disgust, which is not a emotion that should rule your morality.

It might be easy to think why can't paraphiles just not exist so I don't have to be uncomfortable and question my morality? Well, they do exist, and they will never not exist, because paraphilia isn't an hereditary disease that you can eugenics out of the population, neither is it something you can socially conform out of existence. Paraphilias are inherent.