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cheolism · 10 months

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tilf: teacher i'd like to fuck

➳ former student! hoshi x professor! reader ➳ summary: the day after graduation, soonyoung visits your office to tell you about his secret feelings. ➳ wc is approx 6k ➳ warnings/tags: professor/former student relationship, use of the "professor" title sexually, hoshi leaning into the idea of the two of you fucking while he was your student. office sex, desk sex, pull-out method, fingering and oral (f rec.), confessions and relationship discussion. talk of having feelings for a student, for a teacher. marks and bruises, pussy slapping, crying during sex, hoshi is obsessed with you. good luck. lots of dirty talk from hoshi. mentions of breeding/mounting. reader wears panties, long skirt and blouse, but no gender is explicitly mentioned. panty sniffing, name/identity porn (iykyk). metaphors to sex being paradise, heavenly, etc. ➳ MDNI. if you don't like this sort of thing, do not read. ➳ author's note: no one asked for this but i got this idea and got. cough. fixated on it. pls enjoy!!

soonyoung had been looking forward to this day for over a year.

a lot of college students tend to look forward to their graduation. they were ready to take on the world, ready to become fully independent adults who no longer were totally reliant on the generosity of family members and the government. soonyoung, however, looked forward to his graduation day for another reason.

you.

you were, in soonyoung's eyes, the most perfect a person could be. you always smiled at him when he greeted you, always let him talk out his ideas without interrupting him. he adored the sheepish, coyish look you got whenever he brought you your favorite drink from the university's coffee shop.

but he also loved how you looked. he loved it when you wore more casual looks, trading in your business slacks for jeans. he loved when you would turn, showing off the shape of your thighs and ass and how your jeans seemed to hug the shape of you so tightly it was as if they were a second skin. he loved it when you wore that white blouse with the lace around the collar, how it showed the top of the valley between your tits.

but more than just being attracted to you physically, soonyoung loved spending time with you. he tried to be the first person to tell you hello every morning, tried to come up with reasons as to why he needed to meet you after class, as to why he needed to stop by your office for extra help.

because, unfortunately, you were his anthropology professor.

a year ago he had needed a social science credit, and so had signed up for a random class. it was, as it turned out, the best decision soonyoung ever made. because on the first day he walked into the classroom and he saw you.

he remembered how beautiful you looked on that first day. smiling brightly, hair falling around your face angelically. you had asked his name and he had eagerly offered it, so much so that chan, who was taking the class with him, laughed at him later.

"soonyoung's got a crush on the professor," chan accused that night. seungkwan had given soonyoung a disapproving glare, which cause soonyoung to gasp in offense.

"i'm not going to actually do anything," soonyoung said. "i don't want to get professor in trouble, anyways. i'll wait until i graduate like a good person would."

"a good person wouldn't get the hots for their teacher," seungkwan snapped back. but then again, seungkwan had been the one to go out and help soonyoung in picking out the flowers he would give to you, so obviously seungkwan wasn't too disapproving.

that first semester passed too quickly in soonyoung's opinion. he hated it. he hated how the more he seemed to adore you, the more his heart began to swell and warm at the thought of you, the faster time went. nonetheless, regardless of his affections, the semester ended and you took soonyoung aside.

"i know we're not supposed to do this," you had said, voice soft. you reached into your bag and pulled out a chocolate bar, offering it to soonyoung with wide eyes. "but i really enjoyed having you in class, soonyoung. you always seemed to brighten my day."

that afternoon soonyoung signed up for a different one of your classes the following semester.

and so a year had passed with soonyoung admiring you from afar, signing up for your classes at the end of each semester and trying to hide the way you made his heart flutter and his dick swell.

("we really didn't need to know that," wonwoo had whined, pushing his glasses up as he rubbed at his face in distress. "just keep your horny thoughts to yourself, thanks.")

but! it was now the day after graduation, which meant soonyoung was free from both the chains of the education system and the restraints that kept him from telling you of his feelings.

he was so excited that he nearly tripped going up the stairs of the social science building. someone called after him but soonyoung just waved them on, gripping the bouquet a little tighter and trying to regulate his breathing.

it was fine, he thought. either you would let him whisk you off your feet into an eternity of love and passion or you'd politely smile at him and turn him down.

it was fine.

it was all fine.

the halls were cool as he walked down them, nearly abandoned. most of the students were at their living spaces, packing them up and saying goodbyes to their friends. professors and faculty were busy at their desks, doing whatever it was that professors and faculty did when they weren't instructing.

and soonyoung was here, on his way to confess to you.

he wondered what he should say, exactly. he hadn't given it much thought, but at the same time he had. he had thought enough about how you would react to his words, to his heartfelt confession, but hadn't really thought about what those words would be.

maybe he should've asked jihoon to help him write you a song.

but then he was outside of your office door, heart hammering in his ears so loudly that he couldn't even think, and soonyoung swallowed down all of his panic and stress and raised his fist to the door.

"coming!" you called from the other side, and soonyoung felt himself smile. he couldn't help it, really. the sound of your voice was like fuel to him, fueling the flames of his heart.

wait -- that was good. maybe that's what he should tell you.

you opened the door, eyes immediately finding his. you smiled, your entire face brightening, and fuck if soonyoung wasn't in love then he would have been just by your grin.

"soonyoung!" you said, leaning against your door. "you're early! your email said you would be here closer to one."

"ah," he said, searching his mind for an excuse. in the end, all he said was something about being excited. you accepted his words nonetheless with a soft grin, nodding along.

your eyes flicked down to the flowers. soonyoung gasped, and then shoved out his hands. "these -- these are for you!"

"thank you," you returned, smiling still. you reached out for the flowers and took them, and soonyoung felt as if he was going to go crazy when he could literally feel the graze of your fingers against his. "they're beautiful, soonyoung."

"i remember you saying they were your favorite flowers," he said. you stepped aside, waving him inside of your office. soonyoung ducked in, immediately feeling himself relax once he was in your space. he had been in your office numerous times, enough to where he felt as if he knew it just as well as you did. "i hope i was right."

"you were," you murmured, looking down at the blossoms. soonyoung's heart fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird as you slowly lifted the flowers to your nose, sniffing.

"do they smell good?"

"well," you began, eyes flicking up to his. "they smell like flowers."

soonyoung laughed, feeling himself relax even more. he watched as you left the door, letting it slowly creak shut behind you. you went to your desk, gently laying the bouquet beside your computer. "thank you for bringing these for me, soonyoung. it was awfully sweet of you. then again," you said, your smile turning coyish, "you've been awfully sweet to me this entire time. bringing me drinks in the morning, walking me to my car at night."

soonyoung shrugged. your smile and eyes were doing something to him. "it's how a lady should be treated."

"ah," you said, biting down on your lip. he couldn't bring his eyes from your mouth, how your teeth played with it. "and that's what i've been this whole time, hm? a lady, not a professor."

soonyoung felt his face fall slightly. "wait -- i don't -- i mean -- yes, you're a lady, but you're also --"

you laughed then, loudly and brightly. soonyoung felt his panic melt away as you leaned into his space, placing a gentle hand on his forearm. "it's all right, soonyoung. i know what you meant."

you began moving back and away, and soonyoung just couldn't help but reach out, grabbing your hand before you could retract it all the way. he squeezed your hand between both of his, feeling his heart rise up into his throat. "wait. i need to tell you something."

you blinked, surprised. "okay?"

"i -- you probably get this all the time," he said, laughing sheepishly. "probably get students telling you this every other week. but i want you to know i'm not like the others, you know? i don't want something that lasts just a semester -- that's why i waited, yeah? and not just for fun -- because i think we can have fun, but i don't want it to be just for fun. i think we can have something, the two of us --"

"what?" you gasped, breath leaving you in a rush. soonyoung glanced up at your face. your eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. "soonyoung, what are you talking about?"

soonyoung laughed weakly and awkwardly, loosening his grip on your hands. "uh. about my feelings for you?"

"your feelings for me," you echoed, brows furrowed as you tried to work out what he was saying. "which are -- what? just to be clear."

soonyoung sucked in a breath. "uh. i thought the flowers would've like, you know, done the talking for me."

you blinked at him, still confused. "the flowers? what talking, soonyoung? why did you bring me flowers if not as -- do you -- soonyoung?"

you gasped out his name as if he had done something scandalous which, all things considered, he had. a former student who waited a day after graduating to chase after his professor? what was he thinking?

"i --" he choked, and then soonyoung completely retracted from you. he made himself small, bringing his shoulders in and tucking his hands in his pockets. "i uh, you know. like you."

"you have to be very clear with me, soonyoung," you said. you moved towards him. not enough to be in his space, but enough to make his heart flutter again. "like me how."

"like -- romantically."

you echoed him, nodding slightly. then you brought your hands together, rubbing at your knuckles. "okay. so -- soonyoung --"

"wait," he called out, feeling his nerves spike. "if you're going to reject me, just like -- kick me in the ass and get me out, okay? don't try to sugarcoat it. i can take it. i'm a grown man."

"i'm not going to reject you, soonyoung," you said. "i just. i need to say something, okay? i just need you to listen to me."

soonyoung nodded, his heart speeding up in his chest. you weren't rejecting him. you were giving him a chance. "okay. i'll be quiet. promise."

you threw him a fond look, and then you schooled your face into a much more serious look. "okay. i need you to know that i'm -- i'm attracted to you, soonyoung. i have been ever since you helped me carry in those boxes last semester."

soonyoung mentally applauded himself for wearing a tank top that day. it was hot, the sun beating down on him. you had been going back and forth from your old office to this one, having been moved. and of course soonyoung had to help, doing all the heavy lifting so you wouldn't have to lift a pretty muscle.

"and i do think of you," you carried on, "i do. i -- it's stupid, it's reckless. but i think of you all the time. i nearly got you a tiger stuffie the other day just because you said they were your favorite animal, but that wouldn't be appropriate for a professor to get their student, would it?"

soonyoung opened his mouth. he would've loved a stuffed tiger from you!

but then you shot him a look, and he obediently quieted back down. "not done talking, soonyoung. as i was saying: i do think of you. i think of you a lot. when you wear those tank tops during class i can't think. and when you smile and your eyes crinkle, or when you get that serious look in your eyes? you're -- you're attractive, soonyoung. i'd have to be a fool to not see that.

"but, as attracted as i am to you, as much of a soft spot i have," you carried on, hands still fidgeting. "i think you might have a false perception of me. i'm -- you've only ever encountered me, been with me, in a professional teacher-student setting. you don't know me, soonyoung, not truly, and not as a person, as an individual."

soonyoung couldn't keep quiet. he took a quick step across the room, into your space, his hands swooping down to yours and holding them. "i want to! that's what dating is for, baby! i get to know you as a person, you get to know me. i learn about your likes and dislikes as a person and you forget about all the stupid grammar errors i made in essays! it's perfect!"

"and i am -- i was -- your professor, soonyoung," you murmured. you didn't take your hands from his, which he took as a positive. you shifted your hands so your fingers were laced with his, thumbs softly rubbing at his skin. "people aren't going to look too favorably on that, soonyoung. what about your parents."

he shrugged. "i'll tell them the truth. i kept my feelings to myself until i graduated from uni. there's nothing wrong with this, professor."

you shot him a look. he retracted, repeating the last sentence softly, tacking on your name at the end. it felt sweet, the taste of your name, felt right for him to use it.

he sighed softly. soonyoung moved closer, letting the tip of his nose pressed against yours. you let out a soft gasp and he couldn't help but smile. "i'm a grown man, y/n. let me get to know you, you get to know me. and then decide. let's have a chance before we throw it all away."

you breathed against him, eyes fluttering shut. he felt you nod against his head, and then you were pressing close, and who was soonyoung to protest? he was a man, weak with love, and so he took you into his arms and pressed his nose to your hairline, breathing you in, soaking in your embrace.

he had dreamed of this for over a year. a year he had kept his feelings away from you, not wanting to plague you with them. it was a burden he kept for a year, not wanting to make you uncomfortable with them.

but now --

soonyoung pulled away. you made a soft little questioning noise, and lifted your eyes to meet his. you were so soft, eyes sweet and mouth parted, pressed to him and, in that moment, his.

soonyoung lifted his hand and cupped the back of your neck, fingertips sinking into your hair. he guided your face to his, and when your lips met he swore it was destiny. for a moment the two of you just stilled, mouths pressed together in an innocent kiss.

but then you murmured his name, and soonyoung was hooked. he began pressing desperate, quick kisses to your lips, each movement of his mouth against yours slick. he kissed you with a year's worth of feelings bubbling over, one arm around your waist and the other on your neck, molding your body to his, letting him own you.

eventually you whimpered, breaking your mouth from his. his eyes caught sight of the string of saliva that connected your lips to his and he couldn't help but chase after it, press another wet kiss to your lower lip and suck.

"soonyoung," you mumbled, lashes fluttering. he continued to press quick kisses to your mouth, never letting up and not letting you speak. your mouth was addicting, he swore. he'd wanted to kiss you for forever, ever since that day you had whipped cream from your hot chocolate still on the bottom of your lip as you taught class, but he'd waited. he'd been a good boy and waited, and now he didn't have to and he wondered if that made the taste of your mouth and spit all the sweeter.

"'m here," he returned, voice just as slow. he pressed another kiss to the corner of your mouth, and then he was trailing his lips over your face. he was mapping out the rise of your cheeks, the slope of your nose with his mouth. "i'm here, baby."

"my name," you argued weakly. both of your hands went to his sleeves, gripping at his t-shirt, and if his dick wasn't interested before it definitely was now. he loved how you held him, as if you were just as desperate as he was, as if you had battled with your feelings this entire time just as much as he had. "say my name, soonyoung. please?"

he whispered your name, letting it tumble from his lips like a prayer. and then soonyoung was chanting it like he was a monk and you were his god, his mouth hot against your skin, reverent, worshiping.

"soon -- soonyoung," you moaned, pulling back. your mouth was red from his kisses, your eyes wide and pupils dilated. you were absolutely gorgeous. "soonyoung, you said you wanted to have fun, yeah?"

and then he was kissing you again, mouth like a storm against yours. he shoved his tongue into your mouth, sliding against yours. his hand went beneath your blouse, hiking it up and allowing him to glide his hand against your skin, grabbing at your stomach and waist. soonyoung walked you back until you were pressed against your desk, and then he detached his mouth from yours.

soonyoung made quick work of your blouse, fingers deftly pushing out the buttons. he let your blouse hang from your shoulders as his hands explored your chest, pressing against your breasts and grabbing at your hips. his mouth traveled to your neck, drawing out a loud gasp from you, and you tilted your head back, allowing him to make a mess of your throat.

he sucked and bit at your neck, marking it as his. he pressed heavy kisses to your skin, his hands quick against your body. your hands went to his shoulders, pulling at him, his name like a blessing as you chanted it.

then soonyoung pulled from you. he lifted you onto your desk, one of his hands forcing your long skirt up and up and up, baring your calves and then your knees and then your beautiful thighs.

"can i take your panties off?" he asked, breathless. he couldn't help but drink in your skin, eyes traveling over your thighs and stomach. "wanna stick my fingers in your cunt, professor."

you whimpered. "my name, soonyoung."

"sorry," he breathed, ducking to attach his mouth to your neck once again. he spoke between every kiss. "let me take your panties off, yeah? i've been dying to fuck you for months, baby. please? i'll be so good for you. promise."

you pressed your eyes shut, and then you were nodding. you lifted yourself off of the desk just enough to allow soonyoung to pull your panties (plain and practical, a pretty lilac cotton) down. he got them off of you and then, unable to help himself, lifted them up to his mouth and breathed.

you squealed, reaching out and smacking his arm. soonyoung ignored you for a moment, letting his eyes slide shut as he breathed in your heady scent. he was surrounded in you, breathing you in and out, your smell like heaven.

"soonyoung!" you protested, reaching for him again. you pulled at his arms and he let you, dropping your panties to the ground. "that's dirty!"

he laughed, helping you back on top of your desk. "i plan to do dirtier things than just smelling your wet panties, baby," he declared. you grinned, embarrassed and enthused at the same time. soonyoung couldn't help but press his mouth to yours again, languidly moving his lips against yours.

while he thoroughly kissed you, his hands went to your thighs. for a few moments all he did was massage your flesh, thumb digging in and fingers splayed. he felt the little hairs of your thighs, dipped his fingers in and brushed against your soft inner thighs. you were soft and plush beneath him, and he quickly found himself addicted to running his hands over your skin, brushing over your small hairs.

you whined at the back of your throat, and then you were opening your thighs for him. you moved your mouth from his with a slick noise, and, with a bashful look, grabbed his hand. soonyoung's breath left him as you guided his hand to your cunt. you gasped as his fingers brushed over your pussy, fingers tightening around his wrist.

soonyoung took over from there. he couldn't help but stare at your cunt, his fingers gently pressing against your cunt. "so fucking pretty," he mumbled, thumb and forefinger gently coming together on your mound and pinching ever-so-slightly. "even down here is pretty, professor."

you let out a small moan. the desk creaked beneath you as you moved back, hands bracing behind you. soonyoung couldn't help but take you in; the way your blouse hung from your torso, the hickies and bites on your neck and collar. you looked, to him, like paradise.

soonyoung went back to your cunt. he dipped his thumb between your lips, sucking in a heavy breath as your warmth trapped him. you were wet, and he couldn't help but bring his thumb up to his mouth and suck at your juices, groaning.

"soonyoung," you hissed. "that's -- that's dirty!"

he laughed, and tucked his hand back to your cunt. his mouth went to yours, and he kissed you, hoping you could taste yourself on his tongue.

soonyoung's fingers dipped into your pussy. he took his time with your cunt and pleasure, unhurried. he stroked his hand down your cunt, gently pressed his forefingers into your quivering hole. your moans and gasps were music to his ears, and he played you beautifully. when he slipped two of his fingers into your cunt your mouth dropped open, eyes squeezing shut, and he couldn't help but wish he had a phone to take a picture of you.

your cunt was welcoming, eagerly guiding his fingers deeper and deeper, as if they were his cock and you were eager to be bred. he kept his mouth on your skin as he worked his fingers in you, spreading out your walls, gliding in and out, in and out, coaxing more wetness from your cunt.

he avoided your core, that special spot towards the front of your body. soonyoung took care to brush against it, a passing graze of his finger. he wouldn't let you cum, not yet.

"please," you whined after the nth time of him avoiding your core. "please, soonyoung. you're -- you're being mean."

he hummed, ducking his head and pressing his mouth to the top of your bra. "i don't think i am, sweet professor," he returned, voice sweet. "you're being so good for me, baby. whining and moaning, grinding into my hand. is it so bad that i don't want it to end? that i want you to keep fucking my fingers in you, that i want to keep hearing you beg?"

you furrowed your brows, looking up at him. your eyes were slightly wet with pent-up irritation, lips pressed in a firm line. despite your annoyance with soonyoung, when he drew his hands from your cunt your hips followed, eager for him to thrust them back in.

"please," you begged once more, sucking in your bottom lip. "please, soonyoung. i just -- i've waited so long, i want you to fuck me."

like a dog given a treat, soonyoung perked up. he grinned. he shifted his hand inside of you, drawing out a low moan. his thumb moved into your cunt, sliding between your pussy lips. "you've waited so long for me to fuck you," he cooed, voice sickly sweet, "tell me, professor. how long?"

you whined again, but when soonyoung refused to move, you relented. "the -- that day you helped me with the boxes. i felt so guilty, soonyoung. you were my student, and there i was ogling you like you were some -- some treat."

he laughed, using his free hand to brush back some hair that was beginning to stick to your forehead from sweat. "i'm happy you were so captivated by me," he softly murmured, thumb brushing over your lips. "thought i was a treat, did you? a special little treat for a good girl? a delicious little dessert for a little professor."

you shook your head. "no!"

soonyoung chuckled again. he worked his fingers in and out of you slowly, the sound of your juices lewd even to his ears -- but he loved it all the same. "poor little me," he taunted, "the unsuspecting student. just trying to help out my favorite teacher, just trying to be a good boy. and there you were, eyeing me like some piece of candy."

you whimpered. "i didn't -- i wouldn't have done anything."

soonyoung clicked his tongue. he moved his face to yours, pressing his forehead against yours. his breath was hot as he spoke. "you should've," he mumbled, voice low. "should've done something, professor. should've taken me to your office, should've locked the door and told me to fuck you. should've said you would've raised my grade if i fucked you well enough -- i would've done it, too.

"would've fucked you so good," he carried on, his words sinful. "would've fucked you on the floor, would've fucked your cute little cunt so good you would've cried."

he picked up the pace of his fingers thrusting inside of you, unable to keep himself from growing excited at the thought of you taking advantage of him. it never would've happened; you were too logical, too aware of your status above him. you never would've made a move on soonyoung as long as he was your student, and he would bet that if he hadn't come to your office and told you his feelings you would've bottled them up and set them aside, not wanting to burden a former student of yours.

not that you were ever a burden to him.

but, despite knowing all of this, soonyoung's mind continued to conjure up old fantasies, ones that plagued him at horrible moments and made his cock swell. "i thought about fucking you during class, you know. especially when you wore your skirts, professor. thought about pressing you over that desk in the front with everyone watching, jealous that it was me fucking our cute little teacher. would've fucked you so good and made you cry, too."

you let out a dry sob, and when his thumb grinded down on your clit, you came. your cunt tightened around his fingers, gripping them as if they were his cock instead. you fell back against the desk, arms collapsing. soonyoung hurried to wrap an arm around you, his fingers thrusting into you still, working you through your orgasm.

when he finally pulled his hand from your cunt, once you had begun shuddering and whining, his hand was soaked. he splayed his fingers, watching as thick strings of your juices and orgasm traveled, sliding down his fingers.

soonyoung let out a soft groan, and then he sucked his fingers into his mouth. he couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut at your taste, loving how much you were. your cunt was fragrant, filling the air and his senses, and your taste was so delightfully bitter and sweet that he couldn't help but slide his tongue around his fingers, searching for more and more.

you whined, pulling at his hand. soonyoung opened his eyes, letting his fingers fall from his mouth with a pop. his heart thundered in his chest as you moved his hand to your mouth, pressing them into your warm heat and suckling.

"fuck," he groaned, voice going hoarse. your eyes slid shut as you ran your tongue over his digits, tasting him. "you --"

you pulled his fingers from your mouth. "me what?"

he laughed, and then his hands were on your body again. he maneuvered you roughly, pulling you off of the desk and before him. soonyoung turned you around, and with one hand began pressing at your back, guiding you to lay your front along your desk. with his other hand -- the one you had had in your mouth -- he pulled at your skirt again, bunching the fabric around your middle.

"gonna fuck you hard," he rambled, mind unfiltered at the repeating image of you sucking on his fingers. "gonna fuck you into the desk, gonna make you fucking cry, professor."

you whined, and then you were pressing your ass back to him. he couldn't help but pinch at the plumpness before him, drawing out a startled shriek from your mouth. soonyoung held your waist with one hand while he scrambled at his pants and underwear with his other hand. once his dick was free, red and angry from neglect, he used his other hand to guide it into your warm, drenched cunt.

soonyoung hissed as the tip of his cock caught against your hole, biting down onto his lip. he was going to fuck you. "can't believe i'm gonna shove my cock into your pussy," he murmured aimlessly, his words without any true intent (despite what that, his filthy words had your cunt fluttering and clenching, heart hammering). "fucking dreamed of this, baby. now i getta fuck your cute cunt, get to fucking breed you --"

his cock slowly pushes into you, and soonyoung thinks he's in heaven. he has to be. your warmth surrounds him, so tight that he swears he can't breathe. soonyoung continues to push into you as he rambles on and on, one of his hands on your hip while the other slides into your hair, twisting it around his fingers.

"fucking feels so good, baby," he breathed, biting down on his lip. "clenching around my dick like you wanna be bred. is that it? my little professor wants to be bred by their student? be fucked over a desk by a student. gonna own your cunt, professor, gonna fuck it and cream all over it and make it mine."

you sobbed, and then he was sliding all the way in. it felt so good, felt like heaven was in your cunt. you were warm and tight, and when he gave a little thrust into you your pussy clenched around him.

he pushed your body against the desk as he slowly dragged his cock out of your pussy. "fuck, baby. my cock is drenched in your juices. got my cock all wet like a good little professor, babe."

"soon --" you began, but then he fucked into you roughly, breaking you off. you moaned loudly, hands scrambling against your desk. you knocked over a mug of pens and markers -- a mug he recognized as one another student got you for your birthday.

a surge of heat rushed through him. it wasn't the heat he got from watching you teach, from watching your ass as you moved back and forth in front of the board. it was the heat he got watching that student present that mug to you like it was a fucking diamond ring or some shit.

soonyoung gritted his teeth, and then he was laying on top of you, pressing you against the desk. you sobbed at the shift in position, his dick thrusting into you sharply. soonyoung bit at your shoulder, voice muffled as he spoke into your skin. "wonder what the other students would think," he said, "seeing me mount you and breed you. seeing me fuck you into your desk, seeing you cry for my cock all desperate."

"soonyoung," you whined, turning your face. you had a tear caught on your lashes, lips red from where you had bitten at them. you were beautiful. you were perfect. "don't want 'em to see me," you babbled, "want only you."

a flush of pride traveled through him. soonyoung grinned, and he lifted himself off of you. both of his hands went to your hips, and then he was practically impaling you on his cock, shoving into you so roughly that the desk began rattling.

"that's fucking right," he hissed. your ass bounced from every thrust, the slap of his thighs against your ass beautiful. "only i getta see you like this, only i getta fuck your tight little pussy, professor. getta see you cry for my cock."

soonyoung reached down, feeling along your cunt where his cock fed into you. he slipped his fingers along your pussy until he was brushing along your clit. you cried out as he began roughly pressing at your clit, working furiously at you, demanding your release.

"fuck me," you sobbed, burying your face into your desk. "fuck me, soonyoung, fuck me, fuck me --"

soonyoung cursed, and then he was slipping out of your pussy. with rough hands he turned you back around, your knees on either side of him, chest heaving. soonyoung couldn't help but watch your breasts as you breathed heavily, watched them move. he rubbed at his dick, absolutely soaked and glistening with your pussy juices, drinking in the feast that was you.

he came on your body, long, thick spurts of spunk. you cried out softly as he painted you with his cream, covering your stomach and breasts.

soonyoung let his dick flop once he was done, and then he was moving you once again. he grabbed your knees and forced them up, so your cunt was visible to him. soonyoung couldn't help but whisper another curse at the sight of your drenched pussy.

and then he was diving in, his mouth slopping along your cunt. he moaned at the taste of your juices, sucking them in and drinking you like a parched man. soonyoung slurped at your clit, inhaling harshly as he licked along it feverishly, your taste a dessert he'd never give up.

soonyoung's tongue found your clit, and then he was lapping at it eagerly. you were moaning loudly, and when he pulled away to slap his hand over your clit your entire body shivered, legs going tight around his head.

soonyoung focused on your clit and pussy. he lapped at it, drank at it; he slapped your pussy, the sting countered by his eager tongue.

when you came you sobbed, legs tight around his head. he ate you through it, his heart swelling with warmth as your cunt gushed around him, juices staining his skin.

you chanted his name between sobs, and soonyoung wished he had his phone out so he could record it and set it as his ringtone.

when he finally pulled away, you were whining. tears stained your face, and you looked thoroughly debauched. you reached out for him all the same, and soonyoung took you into his arms gladly.

he lowered himself to the floor, happy to keep you on his lap. you curled into him, tucking your face into his neck. both of you were clothed, but no amount of clothes could conceal your dirty acts. your stomach was painted from his spunk, your blouse hanging around your elbows. your skirt was bunched around your middle, and the longer you sat on his lap the more of your juices and his cum leaked down onto his pants, dirtying them further.

the two of you were a mess. his hair was sticking to his face, and his fingers smelled like cunt. your neck was decorated in severe bites and hickeys, and your eyes were red from your tears.

but still, soonyoung couldn't help but think it was perfect.

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catnippackets · 1 month

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disclaimer: as a sex-repulsed aroace person myself--

on one hand, there is definitely a bit of a double standard when it comes to handling canonically queer characters like, from what I've seen in the circles that I frequent (if you've had different experiences then great but I'm just telling it how I see it). for example, you're morally reprehensible if you ship a canon lesbian with a man or refer to a canon bi character as a lesbian. people will be so angry with you. and it's understandable, since there's so little queer rep in comparison to cishet rep that when there IS a rare actual queer character, the unofficial rule is "don't take that away from them when you add more headcanons to them". like, respect that this one is REAL and NOT just a headcanon. I think it makes perfect sense to feel upset when people take that away, even if it is just fiction and not even canon to the original source. and yet, whenever there exists a canon asexual character suddenly it's all "oh well asexual people can still have sex so it's fine if we headcanon THIS canon sexuality as something different". it makes me feel so genuinely heartache-y and depressed to see ppl ignoring that aspect of a character.

and by "canon" I'm also including characters that were never specifically referred to with a label but are very obviously coded as something, because those characters will still get the "even if it's not stated it's pretty obvious!!" treatment when it comes to showing attraction to the same gender, but not when they DON'T show attraction to any gender. like aro and/or ace coding just doesn't count. I understand that it's kind of hard to represent an absence of something, especially when you're only implying it and not even directly showing it, but it's not impossible. there's a lot of characters that you could argue are aroace coded the same way you could argue a character is gay coded. obviously to a degree every queer identity gets disrespected in fandom and it's something you just kinda have to deal with, but it's easier to notice when it's something you personally relate to. I don't think it would bother me as much if we didn't have that unofficial "respect the canon" rule and everyone just went wild with whatever, but the double standard does genuinely hurt me, especially when I see people I thought were cool about this stuff participating in it. so whenever I see someone fiercely defending an asexual character it really makes me feel good, like I'M being defended, not a random fictional character that I might not even recognize the name of. I feel safe, like that person will respect ME.

THAT BEING SAID,

AS a sex-repulsed aroace person who enjoys thinking about the entire spectrum of intimacy and where a character may fall exactly on that spectrum, ALSO as a person who is aware that "asexual" simply means "does not experience sexual attraction" and not necessarily "is violently repulsed by anything sexual", sometimes I DO want to play out scenarios for my own enjoyment. sometimes I DO want to think hm I wonder where this ace character's line is, compared to a different ace character. I wonder if there is anyone who would be an exception for them, and how they could go about dealing with that exception. I wonder if they're favourable, neutral, or repulsed. if those aspects of their character aren't explicitly stated then what's to stop me from playing around with them and working through my own issues in a controlled and non-canon environment? if they have the same identity as me, I am way more likely to want to play around with them like a doll and perhaps play out scenarios that I might have thought about before but don't actually want to do for real. I'm not taking away their identity, after all; I'm just, in this scenario, imagining this ace character as an ace that might have sex on at least one occasion for whatever reason. either just to try it, or because they do have someone they'd make an exception for, or if they got bored enough, whatever the reason. it isn't quite disrespecting their truth unless it's explicitly stated either in canon or by word of god that it's something they're uncomfortable with. and to be honest, if I see another asexual creator headcanoning a character as somewhere on the asexual spectrum and depicting them in sexual situations, it makes me almost happy, to know that they're still acknowledging that character's canon identity and accepting and exploring the nuance that could come with it, even if I personally believe that this specific character would be repulsed instead of neutral or favourable. there's this understanding of "I'm doing a character study exploration thing", and not "I don't care I just wanna sexualize this character"

but I literally feel GUILTY when I want to write what is essentially a thinkpiece disguised as a fanfiction or original story on asexuality and take an asexual character (canon or coded) and involve them in sexual situations to explore different avenues of the spectrum. I feel like I'm betraying everyone who's like me and is frustrated with how aroace characters are treated within fandom. I'm like "am I being just as bad as those other people who will disrespect a character's canon sexuality just because they think that character is hot and want to ship them with someone? do they do the same thing with other types of queer characters? how does this reflect that person's view of people, if they're explicitly told someone feels a certain way and decides to ignore it for their own amusement? or is it just because they're fictional and not real people and I'm being really sensitive and thinking way too much into it? am I not doing the exact same thing? do I have more credence to explore scenarios like this because I am aroace and sex-repulsed myself and therefore have a pass to do whatever I want and it won't come off as a little weird the way it might if someone who's allosexual did it?"

and these two opinions are at war in my mind constantly. like both of them can and do co-exist but I still struggle to accept that lol

#ramblings #asexuality #I almost kinda wanna make a video on this bc I feel like just writing does not even explain what I'm trying to say

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allthoseotherworlds · 5 months

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I feel like the Doctor assuming he/him pronouns for the Meep really works to highlight how the Doctor doesn't fully understand gender I think, and how the Doctor is more agender.

It's like, the Doctor mostly seems to use whatever pronouns people assign them after regenerating, based on how other people see them. It's normally portrayed as something the Doctor has to consciously remember and keep up with, not something that's actually a part of them.

And in that light, it makes sense to just assume pronouns for the Meep, because that's basically how it works, right? That's how everyone's always treated the Doctor.

Of course, when it's brought up, the Doctor asks the Meep about pronouns, and the Meep says that the Meep's pronouns are always the Meep.

And the Doctor's like, "Yeah! Me too!" but then mostly people don't actually like, pick up on that and take the cue to ask the Doctor anything about pronouns, because the Meep looks clearly alien and androgynous to humans, but the Doctor doesn't.

And the Doctor is used to just going along with whatever, so they don't bother to bring it up explicitly, but I do feel like there's a connection there.

The Doctor assumes the Meep uses he/him pronouns because that's mostly what people assume the Doctor uses, and because the Doctor is used to people doing that to them, they assume that's just What's Done.

But it doesn't have to be, and the Doctor does ask the Meep about pronouns, and maybe someday someone will ask the Doctor.

#Doctor Who #Nonbinary Doctor #I am talking #Doctor Who Meta #The Star Beast #Beep the Meep

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ashersanity · 5 months

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I need more Yan Bailey content sir. And Briar... Remy... if you write for them...

Let's say PC is working in the brothel, So what type of yanderes are they? Will they even let anyone see PC in those skimpy outifts?

I wonder how contradictory it will be for Briar... (Bonus: Avery will probably go furios mode because it's dragging his reputation down?)

bailey deserves a post of their own, planning a part 2 for the shitty caretaker. Just for you @mellowwillowy. part 1 is here.

Cmon, you knew what you were doing when you requested for Remy.. Wait, no one knows that im a Remy enthusiast, do they? Fuck. Well, here I go then. - @princesstokyomoon :)

SHADY BASTARDS AS YANDERES

asher is on a roll.

content warning! dub-con/non-con, mostly non-con really, mentions of violence, murder, kidnapping, marking, anal play with a bottle?? if that’s even a thing, possessive and abusive behaviour, you know the drill already.

pc and the bastards are gender neutral as always unless explicitly stated otherwise.

Briar

“Pretty little thing you are, aren’t you? Come to my office, baby. Let’s get you all cleaned up for the show.”

yandere type : sadistic, possessive, manipulative

Somehow always has you sticking by their side whenever you’re not on stage, which they make sure to limit of quite a bit, not wanting their precious little thing wandering off without their watching eyes. It becomes increasingly clear to the other employees that you’re Briar’s favorite, whispering among each other, referring to you as the boss’s bitch, not that it’s all that far off. Oh? Bailey wants you back at the orphanage to pay your dues? Don’t worry, Briar will take care of that. They’d like to talk business with the caretaker anyway, namely about your price. Name it, they’re willing to pay anything for you.

Drastically increases the costs of your shows despite not wanting you to perform. You may be theirs completely, but Briar cannot abandon their principles over cash since money is money for the brothel owner after all. Wants everyone to know that you’re not just some cheap whore. No, you’re fucking Briar’s whore, the one they call in whenever they’re feeling bored, slender finger idly tapping against the cushioned arm of their couch, outstretched arm ready to take in you for another one of your daily sessions. Aren’t you obedient too? Wearing the preferred outfit that they like to see you in. What a doll.

Addicted to having you on their lap, comfortably seated on the brothel owner’s spread thighs, smooth hand resting on your hips while the other is holding a bottle of wine. Of course, considering how they’re a sadistic bastard, doesn’t only involves sweet nothings whispered into the shell of your ear or soothing rubs over your back. You’ll never forget that one time, how they pressed the rim of the bottle against your tight entrance, eyes going wide once you realize what they plan on doing. Smallest of smirks forming on Briar’s usually calm face, throughly enjoying the cute whines that come out of you as they thrust the neck of the glass bottle into your used hole, wine sloshing inside. A real treat that you are.

Never actually shares you. Sure, those bystanders admiring your dancing form as you perform on stage is still a thing though it doesn’t bother them the same way it does whenever a potential customer is reaching for their pockets, waving their wallet. Forbids you from going to them, instead, Briar, the one who usually never steps onto the platform, now joining on stage with you. Makes it clear to everyone that you’re theirs as their hands trail lower over your waist to your hips, lifting up the fabric of your skimpy leotard, giving the others a ‘quick’ peek of the marks they’ve left onto your skin.

There’s no need to know what happened to that one individual who got a feel of your behind on stage, shamelessly groping the soft flesh in the palm of their hand just as Briar is watching. Might’ve resulted in the other’s bodyguards accosting them right then and there, bringing them over to the basement where the real fun happens. Shove them in the hole with ease, ass sticking out for anyone to use as they please and Briar’s sick grin appearing on their lips as they call you over to them as usual. Better keep your lips sealed tight if you know the full story, missing body who has yet to be found, buried deep in the woods. Briar likes to be thorough in their punishments.

Remy

“Look at that, perfect for breeding and milking. Fuck, you’re going to be my fucking star.”

yandere type : obsessive, possessive, overprotective

Keeps you away from the other cattle in the farm, your own personal pen that Remy built just for you, there to satisfy your every single need. Obviously they couldn’t possibly let you be after that one incident, catching one of their workers’s pesky hands gliding over your precious body, seeing red. You, you poor thing, utterly ignorant as you snoozed away, deep in slumber. The farmer wasn’t having any of it, gave that fucker what they deserved, having cleaned themselves off of that distasteful encounter. No one entirely knows what ever truly happened that day and it’s better not to ask around. Remy will simply shut you up with more gifts, your dumb cow mind too foggy to remember much of it anyway.

Tattooed their name on your asscheek, forever imprinting themselves into your flesh. It was done the minute they saw you, a sort of hunger in their eyes, the need to own you, for everyone else to know it. Affectionately traces a gloved finger over their lettering of their name ‘Remy’s bull’ permanently etched on the reddened skin, giving it a playful slap. It comes in useful in certain situations, the other animals and humans knowing to keep away from you as they get a glimpse of your tattoo, not wanting to face the farmer’s wrath by the risk of touching you.

Absolutely does not want you breeding with another cattle. Yeah, they do sort of feel bad when they isolated you in their barn, left with stacks of hay, a warm blanket over your frame and plenty of other supplies to keep you entertained, but it was for the best. Knowing every creature eventually goes into heat one day and so did you, caught you uselessly humping at one of the cows, mounting them even! If it weren’t for Remy that immediately stopped it, who knows what would’ve happen?? They know.. Yes, they know that you’re suffering from being deprived like this and so they’re happy to help, letting you get a feel of what real breeding is like at night, as they return from a long day of working on the fields.

Favours you, giving you special treatment and well, the entire farm is aware of it. Muttering about how you’re the only one who actually gets Remy to smile, their usual stern face and their lips who are meant to be pressed in a straight-line now curling up at the sight of you. Everyone shooting each other weird looks as you nuzzle against the farmer’s hand, demanding for attention and they don’t push you away. Just what the hell kind of trickery is this?? Turning the owner of the underground farm into mush, Wren constantly teasing the other about it, but they just scoff and play it off. As if you don’t have them wrapped around your finger, stupid cow.

Cherishes every single drop of milk that you produce, wherever it’s made from, your genitals or chest. Either way, they’re squeezing it all out of you, making extra sure not to waste a droplet of it as it drips down in the numerous cylinders. Such a prodigy too, milking the copious amount, thick consistency on the verge of spilling out from the plastic containers. You don’t know it though, how Remy succumbs to temptation, mouth watering from your organic milk, pink tongue dipping down to get a taste of it. How fucking sweet it is, they’ve never tasted anything like it, swallowing it all in one go. Actually never puts your products on the market since all of it is sloppily consumed by Remy, greedily lapping across their upper lip.

Avery

“There you are, darling. Looking sweet as ever. Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are? My prize.”

yandere type : self-indulgent, impulsive, controlling

Is in charge of everything that you wear, make it known to the town that you’re Avery’s first and foremost, gifted clothes or lacy chokers to place around your neck, the one they like to admire with a well manicured finger. Your closet now consisting solely of the expensive items that they’ve bought for you, stuffed away in the tight confines of the narrow space. It’s better to wear the suit or dress that the businessperson got for you, for they always know when you don’t, frown appearing on their face whenever they see you walk to school with that annoying orphan. What’s their goddamn name, Rowin? Robin?? God, they don’t care, pulling up next to you with their limousine, tinted window rolling down to greet you with a serene smile, completely ignoring the other standing next to you. They’re not worth your attention, you are.

Is the one to pick you up everywhere and they mean, everywhere. School ends, approaching the school gates and luckily not encountering Whitney in the process, met with Avery waiting in their car, telling you to get in. If they can’t manage a car, let’s say, for example because they’re away from town, coming to pick you up instead in a helicopter, ignoring the awed looks that attracts from others. If their rage is low, which you better hope it is, they’re giving you the full prince/princess treatment, treating you like deity even. Whatever you want, they’re here to provide. Oh, you want this new bag that everyone else has at school? They’re already sifting through their thick wallet, handing you the green notes with a pleased smirk. Buy it, doll. It’s their treat.

Would never let you work at the brothel, not on their watch. Are you crazy? It’s not entirely a lie as one would say, that Avery does hire a few whores on certain nights, crumpled bills stashed away in their pockets. Not with you though. You’re different, special, even if they never openly say it. They’ve never been ready to admit but the idea of you going there every Friday night, sleazy hands trailing over your naked body, no their body. The thought makes Avery grind their teeth, sick at the mere suggestion of you even possibly working there. Why would you? They’ll give you everything you need, pay twice, three times, ten fucking times more than Briar could ever share with you. Out of pettiness however, they do bring you over, in front of Briar’s own watchful eyes, possessive hands placed onto your hips. Loves glancing over to catch the brothel owner’s scowling face, watching on as you grind on the businessperson’s crotch.

Traps you in their manor, turning you into their little, obedient maid that’ll follow their every word and order, the one to come to them at a snap of their fingers. A servant needs to look presentable too, don’t you think? Forcing you into some fetishy maid outfit, silky, feminine lingerie regardless of gender, barely hiding the flushed skin beneath. Skirt is so short that you have to remind yourself to pull at the hem, fabric riding up your plush thighs and exposing your bare flesh to Avery’s hungry eyes. They’ll be such a bitch about it too, crotchless panties, putting your hole on display for them to leer at whenever you bend down to pick something up or are busy dusting a corner that’s particular hard to reach. Earns you a smack to the ass, Avery whistling to themselves as they walk off with your shocked, humiliated gaze on them.

Marks you in a.. different manner than the others, more sophisticated they’d call it? It’s subtle at first, hickeys and bite marks left on your collarbone, shoulder blades, inner thighs, places that usually wouldn’t be visible to other people, not unless you’re wearing something revealing which they don’t allow in public. Escalates to your neck, wrists, maybe corner of your lips, your huffed complaints bringing a smirk to their face, claiming that you’ll be forced to wear a turtleneck from now on to hide the evidence of those traces left behind. Why hide it though? It’s there to be flaunted, meant for the town to know, darling. Won’t take it kindly if you ever do try to worm your way out of it, theirs to own, their precious doll. Makes it official once they tuck the leather collar around your neck, tightening it with a click. Look at you, so pretty. Avery’s prized blue ribbon bitch.

Masterlist

[END OF POST]

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grandlinedreams · 5 months

Text

|| I regret nothing

[Heads up!: absolute filth, dom/sub dynamics, color system, finger-sucking, spitting, law gets MEAN and i'm sorry, edging, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, reader is not explicitly gendered but there is usage of termed genitals (clit), piv, unprotected sex (make informed decisions kids!)]

"What about you and Law, though?"

To be fair, Law doesn't mean to overhear your conversation over a transponder snail. It's part of your monthly gossip sessions with Nami and Robin, having remained close friends with the pair despite Law's insistence that now that the alliance is over, you should be enemies.

At the mention of his name, however, curiosity halts him in his tracks as he creeps as close as he can to the door without you noticing.

"What do you mean?" On your end, Nami's question makes you frown as you eye what's left of your drink.

"Well, you know," Nami says, and you imagine she's making a gesture with her hand to try and help further communicate her point. "Can't help but wonder what that's like with him. He's not like…" She trails off. "Rough, is he? You aren't limping or anything, right?"

Your cheeks warm at both the mention of your sex life and how cavalier Nami is about asking, as well as the thought of it. Though the two of you are intimate, you can't really say Law has ever been rough with you. Firm yes, but never rough or demanding, and certainly not in a way that's left you limping.

It surprises you how much you like the idea of it though, and your cheeks darken as you study the sheets beneath you. "No, never like that. He'd never hurt me."

"Well duh," Nami sighs, exasperated. "I'm not saying the guy should put you in a cast or anything, justㅡ" Here you imagine she's shrugging, "Be a little more assertive with you, I guess."

Assertive. The idea of it sends a shiver down your spine as you sit up, setting your drink aside. "Bringing it up to him would be the issue," you lament, and Nami makes a noise of sympathy.

"You'll figure it out somehow."

The conversation drifts away from that and by the time you hang up, it's all but been pushed to the back of your mind.

For you, at least.

ㅡ

It lingers with Law the rest of the day.

Thoughts circle like a shark that's scented blood, refusing to leave even as he throws himself into his work. Do you want him to be rough with you?

He's not ever heard you complain to him and if he's honest with himself, there's some pride to be had in how easily he gets you to fall apart for him. But if you want him to be rougher ㅡ

"Law?" The snap of fingers in his face makes him jolt, looking up to find you watching him in concern. "Are you okay? You were spacing out."

"I'm fine," he says, debating for a moment before he sighs. "Actually, I have something I want to discuss with you."

Your head tilts. "Is it work related or personal?"

"Personal." He debates, wondering how he should go about this ㅡ and then decides to just push forward with his usual blunt attitude. "I heard your conversation earlier."

Your confusion increases. "With who?"

"Nami." He watches you sort through things mentally, then watches color begin to creep into your cheeks.

"So you heard about…" You trail off, and the color in your cheeks darkens as your pulse picks up. Though you're certain Law would never eavesdrop on purpose without a reason, that doesn't negate the fact that he'd heard you talking to Nami.

About wanting him to be rougher with you in bed.

"Oh my god," you groan, burying your face into your hands. Embarrassed does not begin to cover how you feel at the moment, and you peer at him from between your fingers. "Just forget what you heardㅡ"

"No." Law's voice is firm. It startles you, makes you lower your hands from your face to look at him. "You want me to be rougher with you, is that it?"

There's an edge to his tone now, one that ignites an answering stir of warmth in your veins as he locks eyes with you.

"Words, [Name]."

You swallow hard. "Yes," you answer, trying not to let your voice drop into a mumbled whisper. "I want you to be rougher with me."

God. You wish that the ground would open up and swallow you whole, barely catching the sound of approaching footsteps before there are fingers at your chin, guiding your head back up to look at Law.

There's quiet heat simmering in his eyes already, the curve of his mouth a sinful promise. "Careful what you wish for, [Name]."

ㅡ

Law's mouth is hot against your core and you whine at the dig of his tongue against your clit, swollen nub pulsing against it. Sweat beads at your temple, rolling down as you buck your hips and work towards your orgasm.

You want to dig your hands into his hair, yank him flush against you and make him stay put until you cum ㅡ but you don't. Instead, you moan as he laps at the abundant slick, breathing shallow.

Close, you're so close ㅡ and just as you think he's going to let you topple over that precipice, he pulls away. You offer a broken sob as you're forced to walk that razor edge of denied pleasure, lament the pleasurable pulse as it begins to ebb.

This is either the fourth or fifth time he's denied you, and despite the fact you know you haven't cum, you know you've soaked the bed sheets beneath you.

"Color?" The question is spoken against your hip, the bite of teeth in your skin as he waits for your answer. Even for the writhing, desperate mess he's made you, Law makes sure you know where he stands.

"Green," you gasp, groaning when he moves over you, replacing the drag of his tongue against your core with the press of his thigh. "Green, let me cum please, pleaseㅡ"

Law swats at your thigh. "Stop whining, or I won't give you anything."

You choke back a whine, reflexive tears in your eyes that do nothing to sway Law for the way he ignores it in favor of pressing his fingers to your bottom lip.

"Open," he prompts, ignoring your look of confusion as you part your lips. Two digits slide in, pressing against your tongue. "Suck."

It takes you a minute to process the command, the unwavering gaze that he meets you with. You close your mouth around his fingers, and he smirks.

"So you can listen. What a surprise."

The slick slide of your tongue against his fingers makes Law's eyes darken, lust blown pupils locked on the way you swallow, cock twitching in his jeans.

You suck at his fingers, tongue swirling over the digits until Law is satisfied, slipping them from your mouth. Your cheeks flush at the wet, intentional drag of them over your abdomen, marked path as he slips them between your thighs and sinks them into you.

Your face burns and heart hammers at the wet noises of movement, the way you can't help but clench around his fingers, desperate for friction. You're not sure if it's better or worse than his tongue, sharp cry leaving your mouth when his thumb finds that swollen bundle of nerves again.

All you can do is pant and moan as he works you open with his fingers, drag of his digits against your pulsing walls working you ever closer to that precipice again.

This time he doesn't pull away as you near your orgasm, watching as you buck your hips, chasing that high, the tightening of your walls around his fingers as he finally, finally lets you cum.

You offer a choked sob as pleasure washes over you, clenching hard against the continuous work of Law's fingers in your slick heat as you soak his hand. He helps you ride it out, though he doesn't let up.

"You can give me another." It's spoken as a command more than a taunt, one you're helpless to deny as he makes you buck against the pain-pleasure pull of overstimulation.

The second orgasm is quick, coupled with the hard press of his thumb and curve of his fingers against the spot that fries your nerves as you cum a second time, babbling incoherently as you add to the mess you're inevitably making of him and the bed.

Law watches you pant, the whimper as he drags his fingers from your over sensitive warmth to examine the slick mess of his fingers. You blush as he brings his fingers to his mouth, cleaning the digits of your cum. You'd be lying if you said you didn't want his tongue back against you, or better yet, the hard heat of his dick nestled deep inside you.

He leans as if he's going to kiss you, but the purse of his lips is the only warning you get before saliva smacks against your cheek. Shame heats your cheeks for the whine that leaves your lips, the way you clench around nothing in answer.

"How pathetic," he taunts, laughing when you whine at his words. "Are you that desperate?"

He knows the answer to that, the way you watch him ㅡ and he kisses you, tastes of both you and himself as he deepens it, claims your mouth and muffles your soft whine.

The jingle of his belt being unhooked and downward tug of his pants is a godsend, his soft hiss as he settles over you making you shiver.

The sink of him into you is quick and hard, made rough for the snap of his hips against yours, the pleasure of being filled so completely making your head spin.

Law sets a brutal pace, groans at the way your back arches and your hips work to meet his thrusts, tip kissing that spongy spot within you.

"Brat," he grunts, breath hot against your skin. "Acting like I don't give you what you want. I do, don't I?"

"You do," you manage, but it isn't good enough for Law as he grabs at the soft plush of your thigh, drags it up, sinks deeper and revels in the high, stuttered cry and plea that follows. "There, right there, please—"

"Shut up," he hisses, "don't demand things from me. You take what I give you and you don't complain, got it?"

You could cry, and maybe you are ㅡ it's hard to think about it when Law is fucking you like this, splitting you open in a way only he can. A way you only want him to, reverent in the way his body connects with yours.

Your third orgasm of the night sweeps over you like a tidal wave, hot and fast as it swallows you and you whimper as he keeps moving, prolonging the pleasure. "Law, I can't, I can'tㅡ"

"You can," he almost snarls, desperate for his own orgasm with the way you throb around him, pairing the hard snap of his hips with the way he squeezes at your jaw. "Open."

Your lips part obediently and he groans, shuddering as he spits into your own mouth before he kisses you. It's dirty and messy, makes you burn for the shame of it all ㅡ and pushes you into your fourth and final orgasm of the night.

The hard spasm of your walls pulls Law with you, the way he tenses and groans, pushing himself as deep into you as he can before he spills, filling you to the brim.

Law presses his sweat slick forehead against your shoulder, fighting to even his breathing before he speaks. "Color?"

"Green," you rasp, "but I can't feel my legs." The unholy seep of your release and his makes you shudder as he slips out of you, the aching burn of your thighs.

"Sorry," Law murmurs, kisses your jawline and makes you hum tiredly. "Think you'll be able to walk tomorrow?"

The recall to the overheard conversation makes you squeak, slapping at Law's arm as he laughs.

#ㅡmine.#one piece scenario #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader

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mayhemories · 1 year

Note

Neteyam x reader dealing with the change between the forest and the reef. Fluff plssssssss but also kinda smutty.

I don't know how to describe it but can the reader want to mate with Neteyam bc they haven't yet and the reader doesn't know how to bring it up. and she is like worried about being a virgin

idk i cant stop thinking about Neteyam x reader sex on the beach

(doesn't have to be like actual smut if you are uncomfy)

What A Blessing

Oh, thank you so much for the request! I really enjoyed writing it. I hope I did it some kind of justice. I didn't commit to the smut in this part, but I was kinda envisioning a smutty pt 2. to this fic, so let me know if you'd want that <3

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar)

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: Spicy Fluff? Straight Fluff. Neteyam has 1 (one) dirty thought, god forbid, let him live. Reader has a chat about sex and mating.

Words: 2.6k

Author’s Notes:

Minors DNI (no smut explicitly but still not for you guys, okay?)

Listened to How Can I Make It OK? - Wolf Alice, nonstop writing this. So if you want the vibe, there it is.

Neteyam is 19, reader is 18/19, Lo’ak, Kiri and Tsireya are 17. Lil Tuk girl queen is the same age as the movie because I will protect her childhood.

Please note that the reader utilises she/her pronouns. If you’d prefer male or gender-neutral pronouns in fic I’m more than happy to repost a male or gn version of the story, otherwise include any pronoun preferences in the request box!

Read below the cut:

Having Neteyam as your promised mate was a blessing. Having the security of someone so beautiful, strong and kind was priceless. A blessing. Having the Sully family as your fortress: Jake as your father-in-law and the Olo'eyktan, Neytiri as the mother you only ever dreamed of, Mo’at and all her teachings, the wisdom of the T’sahik that she instilled in you, for the future. Lo’ak as the annoying thorn in your side, but a thorn that opened your eyes to new sides of Pandora, nonetheless. Kiri as your sister in spirit, someone who felt Eywa like you did, someone who did not forget the power of her strength during hardships. And little Tuk, someone who made you laugh, and play and sparked the power of your imagination like it had been when you were little.

And of course, your beloved Neteyam. With his broad chest, and broader smile. Honey eyes that could spring from docile to alert and tracking in seconds. With his sweet laugh and sweeter, protective nature of his siblings and his clan members. Being Neteyam Sully’s love was a blessing, was a strong fortress. Being in love with him was simple and easy. As was loving his family. Everything was perfect.

Until it just wasn’t anymore.

“No, Neteyam” you sighed. Sitting on the side of your shared bed, Neteyam kneeling in front of you, your hands weaved together. “I don’t understand.” your voice was soft, the tears streaking down your face were softer still.

“My love, my father has decided,” Neteyam spoke softly, as if not to frighten you. “I must leave, my family must leave for the safety of the clan, for their longevity.” You loosed a sad chuckle, shaking your head sending rouge braids that Tuk has made flying around the perimeter of your face.

“No, Neteyam, I don’t understand why you are talking like I am not coming with you.” You felt something fierce awaken in your small, beating heart. You were rarely like this, but when you were, Neteyam knew there was no point.

“My love you know you can go anywhere, do anything you choose, I will never be able to stop you.” A sweet smile graced his lips, sighing he continued, “you know my only wish in this life is to keep you safe.”

Gently, you wiped your face clean of salty tears, bending down to meet him on the floor of your sleeping quarters. You held Neteyam’s eyes with your own. And he knew in that moment, that he could never be parted from you. In this life and the next, he would always be with you.

“I will always be safe when I am with you, Neteyam.”

Finally landing the Ikran on the sand was instant relief to you. Your thighs were chaffed and your skin felt so dry like you had been whipped, skin peeling, ripped from the constant barrage of the coastal wind. Dismounting, your legs felt wobbly, like a baby taking its first steps. Neteyam kept his hands on your waist, stabilising you. You were no hunter, no rider really. That was all Neteyam. But, a keen herbalist, forager, spiritualist. You were his balance, or rather, you were supposed to be his T’sahik.

The sun was so warm on your skin as you waited for the leaders of the Metkayina to accept your plea for refuge. You did not know if it was the delirium from the long flight, or whether the anxiety of being turned away caught up with you, but you felt like you were floating in and out of existence. One moment you were standing, the next walking with all your belongings to your new home, the next you were sitting in the intricately woven marui pod, unpacking everything and anything that meant something to you.

Neteyam’s hands, calloused from the Ikran’s reigns and the grooves of his bow, found your slumping shoulders. Small circles being rubbed into your mistreated skin.

“My love, are you happy?” Neteyam whispered over the sensitive curl of your ear.

“Can I be honest with you, Neteyam?” You asked, turning to face him. He scanned your face for any signs of anxiety, happiness, indifference. Tightening his brows, as well as the grip on your shoulders.

“Of course, always.”

You smiled at that, he was still the same, despite it all.

“I am worried I will not thrive here, that I will be dead weight.” You wrung your hands and wrists, head cast down, to escape his gaze, but also in shame, admitting your fear to him. To Neteyam. Your perfect Neteyam who could do no wrong.

“I’m too worried, that I will be dead weight.” Neteyam sighed. Your head sprung up, confused. Your hands found either side of his face.

“Are you stupid or something?” Neteyam smirked slightly, his hands snaking up to rest on yours. “Neteyam, everything you touch turns to gold, you can’t really fail at anything.” He laughed at you, a proper stomach laugh.

“Care to share that tidbit with my father when you get a chance-” Rolling your eyes, you cut him off.

“Neteyam, I’m serious.” You felt yourself starting to pout.

“Take some of your own advice, huh.” Neteyam captured your eyes again. With a small peck on your pursed lips, he whispered: “You have medical training, you have intelligence and a strong heart.” One of his hands rested on your chest, roughly where you knew your heart would be. “You are connected to Eywa, you are connected to me. Forever.” You couldn’t help but smile. Oh Jesus, Neteyam he always knew exactly what to say. “My love Eywa will never turn her back on you, and I will always protect you from anything that might come.”

Loving him was so easy, especially when he said things like that.

He held your hands as you both stood up.

“Now, let’s get some fresh water into you.” You chuckled, you knew you were dehydrated beyond belief. “And maybe some salve for that chafe too, huh.” He chuckled at you, pinching your side as you giggled, leaning into his safe arms.

A blessing.

The days quickly burned into weeks, the weeks into months. Your training with Tsireya and Ao’nung went well, to your surprise. You found breathing easy, as you could imagine the lungs filling and deflating. Though, Kiri teased you that Eywa decided you must be good at everything. Yet, all you saw was how naturally it came to Kiri and Tuk, themselves. You’d never admit it to Neteyam, but you preferred riding the Ilu.

It came a bit harder for Neteyam and Lo’ak, but they were dedicated. Neteyam wanted to uphold the promise he made to Jake, that he would pull his weight, stay out of trouble, and bring no shame to the family. Lo’ak was driven by holding Tsireya’s attention. Which, you decided, wasn’t the worst idea Lo’ak had ever had.

You liked Tsireya, Ao’nung… not so much, though after his big fight with Lo’ak and Neteyam, he had been more tolerable to be around.

Tsireya and you sat side by side on the sand. You talked about anything and everything. She would often help you with your hair, and you would often help her with Lo’ak. You both had been trained as Tsakarem and loved the Sully boys. As different as they were, you knew better than anyone else, all Sully boys were the same breed.

Her fingers were in your hair, trying to get Tuk’s random braids and beads out before she properly weaved your hair into some kind of intricate braid pattern.

“How did you know Neteyam was the one?” Tsireya asked, though you knew she sat right with you, you knew her mind was thousands of miles away, with a certain Sully. You giggled, knowing that you were like this once. Maybe, you still were like this, though your love for Neteyam was not so young and fresh and scary, all at once, like Tsireya and Lo’ak.

Neteyam was running down the beach with Tuk, he felt sorry that he had not spent as much time with her as he used to. They collected every shell that she deemed pretty enough, placing them into a makeshift bucket Neteyam had fashioned out of a palm husk.

“Look!” Shouted Tuk, Neteyam expected another pretty shell, but he looked up to where his little sister was pointing. “It’s (y/n) and Tsireya.” Neteyam smiled at her happiness, but also at how happy and content you looked.

Giggling with your newfound friend, talking animatedly, using your hands, as you so often did when you were passionate about something. You looked so carefree in the late afternoon light, the pale pink hue stretching out across the sand. Neteyam realised, you finally looked your age. So young and full of life.

The inappropriate edges of his mind could not help but think about mating you on the sand, then and there. All the mewling sounds that he knew he could coax from you, if only he was given the chance.

He quickly shook his head, as if to throw the image out of his brain and onto the sand. He refocused on Tuk again.

“Hey, don’t bother them yeah?” Neteyam said softly, holding a shell out for Tuk to take. “They look like they’re having fun.” Tuk twisted her nose up, but eventually agreed, digging her little fingers back in the sand, sifting to find the prettiest shell, just for you.

“So,” Tsireya started again, still doing your hair. You watched Neteyam and Tuk, further down the beach. Your heart was warm, blooming in adoration for him all over again. “You love Neteyam that much, but you two are yet to mate” all the blood pooled into your cheeks, across your nose and the tips of your ears. Talking about your virginity with Tsireya was new, but not unwanted, you supposed. “How come?” She finished your hair, sitting across from you, cross-legged like children in lessons.

“We haven’t spoken about it really.” You started, playing with your new braids shyly. “Neteyam was very sought after back home, I am not entirely sure what he did and did not do with others.”

Tsireya covered her mouth while she giggled softly, you mirrored her actions, still shy to be broaching the topic at all.

“And you?” She asked. You quirked your eyebrows in confusion, not really sure what she was asking. “Have you ever done anything? With Neteyam or otherwise?”

You knew you must be almost purple in the face, the blood pooling behind your deep blue skin.

“We kiss of course, but that is all.” You kept your eyes on Neteyam further down the beach, worried the ocean breeze would carry your conversation. “so far.” you added, hastily, in case the wind did betray you.

Tsireya looked behind her, at Neteyam and Tuk, and then back at you and your eyes, full of longing for the elder Sully boy.

“Neteyam! Tuk!” Tsireya called out, you hissed.

“Ah! What are you doing?” You still felt nervous after admitting these things aloud to Tsireya.

“Come join us!” Tsireya ignored you, but beckoned the two Sully’s over. Tuk came bounding, a bright smile on her little face, braids bouncing as she ran.

“We collected shells for you! And for mommy too.” She said proudly. Showing off her palm husk full of shells, some stunning, truthfully. Others were broken or chipped. But to Tuk, they were beautiful all the same.

Neteyam sat next to you quietly, thighs brushing. You felt like you were going to pass out, still embarrassed from the conversation with Tsireya, which Neteyam knew nothing about. But his presence, though usually a blessing, was too much.

“Oh wow!” Tsireya exclaimed, causing Tuk to smile wider. “Shall we take them to show your mommy? I feel like she would want to see them!” Tsireya asked Tuk in a sing-song voice. They stood up so quickly, Tsireya holding hands with Tuk, Tuk leading the charge back to the village.

You were lost for words. Tsireya had set you up, alone, with Neteyam, just before eclipse. She confirmed this with a sly wink thrown over her shoulder. You couldn’t help but stare at their retreating figures.

It was stupid really. Neteyam was your promised mate, your love, your everything. And a few words exchanged in confidence with your best friend regarding your lack of sex life has caused you to be in shambles.

Neteyam could see the remnants of blush resting upon your high cheekbones. And, he’s not stupid, he saw Tsireya’s pointed wink. Putting a braid behind your tinted ear, he started:

“So, what did you two talk about? You seemed like you were having fun.” Neteyam smiled, elbowing you in the side.

Loving him was so easy, why couldn’t mating be easy too? Why couldn’t having sex with him be the easiest thing to do?

“Neteyam,” You released a breath you weren’t even aware that you were holding. “Have we not mated yet because of my lack of knowledge in pleasure?” It was a stupid question, you knew that. But you couldn’t get the seed of the thought out of your mind, now that it had been sown.

Neteyam felt all the blood in his body rush to his face, it was his turn to blush he supposed.

“How could you even think that?” He chuckled, holding your face in his hands. The heat of your face radiating outwards. “Do you think I have so much experience? Of course not.”

You felt foolish now, so you leaned into it for once.

“So you do want to mate with me then?” You asked, your voice only slightly louder than a whisper.

Neteyam laughed.

Not a sweet chuckle, or a nervous giggle, a full-blown laugh.

You instantly retreated into yourself, not expecting him to laugh at you, despite the foolishness.

“Oh Eywa, help me,” Neteyam started, seeing your embarrassed figure pulling your knees to your chest. “My love,” Neteyam grabbed your chin in his strong fingers, forcing you to look him in his amber eyes, now lust-blown and heavy-lidded. “I think about mating with you every day. It’s the first thing I think of in the morning, the last thing I think about at night, I dream of it, of you my darling.” His genuine confession set your heart racing, your blush fighting tooth and nail to be at the forefront of your face. “My (y/n) I couldn’t even witness you sitting on the beach with a friend without thinking about it.”

He always knew what to say. Loving him was easy. What a blessing.

That mantra ran circles around your mind as you listened to him.

“If I’m being honest, we have not yet mated because I am scared,” Neteyam spoke softly again as if his admission was going to float away in the breeze. “I am scared that one day you will wake up and want to leave me.” His voice broke slightly.

You audibly gasped, this boy.

“Neteyam, you know I would never leave you,” your fingers found their home in his hair, despite his grip on your chin. “I love you, I see you.”

Neteyam smiled. The eclipse rapidly approached behind him, and in the moonlight, his skin glowed, he radiated such pureness, you never wanted to let it go.

Never wanted to let him go.

“I see you too, my love. Always” He kissed all over your face, making sure to get every freckle, every smile line, every inch. “We can mate whenever you want my love, whenever you want.”

“Eywa has blessed me with you, Neteyam.” You giggled.

You couldn’t wait much longer, you needed to mate with him. Entwine your bodies and souls for life.

As he kissed your lips with his soft, plump pair, all you could think of was,

Loving Neteyam was easy, so easy, like breathing. It was natural, it was right, it was forever. It was a blessing, it was a fortress.

You will never know what you did to be so blessed with the gift of Neteyam.

Additionally, you also couldn’t wait to tell Tsireya.

2K notes · View notes

clarks-letterman · 10 days

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URGGGGGEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! | zed necrodopolis x male!reader

a/n — putting this as male reader because it's implied. not explicitly stated but I don't want to misadvertise the fic lol, gender neutral pronouns and body parts used. I don't really like the smut in this but the idea was funny to me… this fic will definitely be non-canon by the time Z4 releases!!

summary — Zed goes to Mountain College and gets a sex toy, his roommate comes to their shared dorm at a bad time.

words — 3k

warnings — smut! 18+ | implications of sex and actual sex occur, uses of the word "gooning", zed zombies out and they fuck so... feral!Zed, slight dubcon!! - first zombies fic so it may be ooc or just poorly written

~~~

Fall was in full swing at Mountain College. Soon the tops of roofs would be snowcapped and walkways would be sprinkled with salt, but for now, everyone tried to enjoy the weather while it was still warm. Sloping sides brought the occasional gusts of wind that all of the early morning go-getters had to deal with. They had to learn the hard way to bundle up if they wanted to make it to class without becoming the next monster to roam the Earth—probably as a snow yeti or something similar. The lecture halls were grand to handle the kind of metamorphosis a lot of human and inhuman students would be going through over the course of their early adult years. The only place where people were forced to grow together were the dorm rooms—as a push for inclusivity at Mountain College left everyone in close quarters to someone—or something—they had no clue existed before college. It was another thing to learn about, to understand that the small circle of your hometown isn’t the only circle to exist. People have groups that come in all shapes and sizes, and not all of them are going to fit together nicely, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be an effort. But there was one unspoken rule that everyone had to learn, regardless of their major: don’t enter a room with a tie, sock, or anything hanging off the door handle. Not at parties, not in classrooms—if there was such a thing to happen, and especially not at your dorm.

When Zed arrived at Mountain College, he never expected anyone to be as pro-zombie as they were. His roommate was insanely warm and kind to him. No one really hid who they were here. They were at that stage where they left the conformities of high school and living with their parents to being so overwhelmed with freedom that they had no way to grasp everything they had. The freedom; the new flaws determined by society were still unclear. Zed was one of those people, being free from the shackles of Seabrook and Zombietown’s driving force in unity to being another student in a sea full of them. It wasn’t to the same extent that he had gone through, but the established scene of breaking free from your past to start something new is what really pushed him to start trying things. He wanted to be a part of the community and to do that, you have to understand the area first.

Zed started by doing most of his workouts around campus, then transitioning over to the city that was built around Mountain College. The short drive down to the city below could be completed in a timely manner during a daring jog down the road leading to the developed area. He never wore more than a tank top and shorts for his morning runs. The college was north of the city, so he only ever rarely went into the downtown area during his morning runs. He decided to go farther on his run today since he had an upcoming game and needed to burn off the endless brain-fest for dinner from the night before. So many calories, so little scores during his big game was how he viewed it.

Most of the shops still weren’t open, but there was one on this block that was still open. It turns out that the shop was not opening early in the morning, but in fact, closing after a very late night. The neon signs had yet to be turned off, and one reading ‘OPEN’ in big illuminated letters drew his attention. Next to it was a red triple-X sign.

The fleshlight was cobbled together with scraps and carefully welded parts to resemble the repurposed items of Zombietown. It reminded him of home, and the clerk told him that the toy was advanced, deceiving the average person by appearing to only be made of scraps and to have the basic, archaic function of just fucking it. Inside it was a hidden set of magnetic coils that both provided the correct amount of electromagnetic pulses through the zombie’s dick to prevent them from turning into the much more unpleasant version of themselves and it heightened the feeling of jerking off while the machine made contact with the skin from the inside.

He listened to what the clerk had to say about remembering to take off his Z-Band so it wouldn’t overstimulate him to the point of numbness, and that the side effects of it were mainly just slowed brain activity from “too much gooning.” As Zed would be quick to learn, it was called going cockdumb. There was the opposite, too, where his zombie side would forfeit all rational thought and quickly take whatever the closest thing to fuck is around to poundtown.

He learned quickly, though, and did as he said when he got back to his dorm. The order of instructions was simple: get yourself ready—get your dick hard, is how he interpreted it, take off the Z-Band, and use the fleshlight to calm all of his zombie urges. Before he started any of that, though, he placed one of his ties around the door handle facing the hallway. Then he got undressed, stripping down until the full-body mirror over his closet’s sliding door reflected his pale figure and vibrant green hair. He stood in the frame, checking out his recent gains for a second—still eternally lanky, but he was starting to fill out in the places that mattered.

His hands roamed over his body until he got down to his nether regions. Zed rubbed his dick until he was hard enough to stick his dick in the fleshlight, then watched in the mirror as he took off his Z-Band. The area around his eyes started to darken and dark veins started coursing all over his body. He took a few deep breaths before reaching for the fleshlight, each breath drawn in becoming more raspy as his insides changed in a way he couldn’t see. Carefully, holding on to it with an intentionally lighter grip so as to not overuse his own strength, he guided it over his cock and watched his tip disappear into the slit. He moaned, it was tight. He moaned again, it was vibrating. And then he looked back up at his reflection, the monstrous features were gone.

Zed never told you about his little reveries into sex and pleasure as the weeks went on. After that faithful day, he found that he came harder and started to crave the feeling of release more and more. The feeling was simply addictive to him: a mix of tingles from the electro-pulses and genuine pleasure from the stimulation. But with how frequently he did it, there was bound to be a day where mistiming or miscommunication would expose him in the act. Today was that day.

It was around two in the afternoon, the ground was covered in a thin layer of snow and Zed had stopped his morning runs in favor of a quick indoor exercise and then moved to jerking off while the sun rose—you were returning to your shared dorm with the zombie from a lecture, notably earlier than usual. It was a Gen-Ed for biology, something that Zed had learned when you approached him one night in the hopes of having him help you. If he remembered correctly, it was about zombies—a newly implemented unit in the curriculum, now finding its way into its own circle of life. New studies emerged about the carbon emission of their dead cells that Zed couldn’t help with, but he explained how he felt that he functioned and the way he and plants interacted. That was at the beginning of the semester and it was how he found out that your class ran until around two-thirty. Usually.

Zed was enjoying his time inside for a change. Having finished his classes for the day and feeling the testosterone of his morning workout preserved through it all, he decided the best thing to do during his alone time was to use his broken-in toy. Zed was confident enough to not hide his sex life—well, he was confident enough to act like he was having sex with someone else, not his sex toy or the fact that he edged himself until he literally couldn’t hold it in anymore. That part was thankfully undisclosed by everyone since they knew not to enter his dorm, but you entered without thinking. He was laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling like the white ceiling was painted over with the limitless stream of thoughts flowing out of his head. His eyes were shut, soft moans slipped out and he barely shifted the fleshlight on his dick out of the fear of blowing his load too early.

His load threatening to come out dissipated quickly, though, when he heard the door handle click. Then the hydraulic mechanisms that would normally push the door shut started to whir as it opened. He reached for the blanket he slept under, letting the fleshlight hang off his dick so he could find something to cover himself up. He was mad at himself for slipping into the habit of playing with himself while naked, but it was so much easier to bunch his comforter up against the wall and lay in bed with easy access to all of his holes. In the seconds—which felt even shorter for him—he covered his lower half and just accepted that you would see his bare torso. With enough smooth talking, he could convince you that he had just woken up from a nap.

“Don’t be mad.” You said, coming in, hoping that he wasn’t with a naked girl or anything. You tried keeping your view of the inside of the room as limited as possible by turning your head just in case. “But I got out early ‘cause of the weather and I saw the sock…”

The only issue was that his fleshlight was forming a bump in his sheets, meaning that he couldn’t be laid down without it looking like he had a huge dick—or what would be the more reasonable explanation: he had a sex toy. Either way, it looked unnatural. So while you were still acclimating to the sight of him, purposefully looking away to give him time to cover up. You were still under the impression that someone else was in there, but you heard the clatter of something hit the floor, followed by a hasty curse under his breath.

You decided that you had given him long enough and finally looked into your shared dorm room. On the floor was a machine made out of old zombie parts that seemed to have broken into pieces, scattered around a pair of bare feet that padded around the carpet in panic. Your eyes trailed up to see Zed, naked and with a raging hard dick. Still freshly coated from the lube he pumped into his fleshlight, still wet enough to glisten in the sunlight pouring in the window behind him. And to say he was naked didn’t mean much, because he was truly naked—no Z-Band in sight on his body. His dick was red for only a second before the veins on it darkened along with the rest of his body.

Somehow, his dick looked to be bigger, more intimidating. The dark shade it turned caused it to look like anything but slimming. His chest started heaving and that drew you to his arms, bulging with thick black veins that trailed up his arms and increasingly curved arms. They started finding their way to his midsection until his hands reached his dick. Neither one touched his pulsing cock, but motioned around it as if he knew that the fleshlight was unusable. He started fucking the air like he knew the presence of it from his more conscious and tame state.

Incoherently, through a gust of grunts and growls, he started speaking. It sounded like the friendly words he used during your past exchanges but were blatantly needy and desperate. You couldn’t quite hear what he said, so you moved closer under the assumption that he still had some control. Some sense of sanity without his Z-Band on. But as soon as you were within his reach…

Zed grabbed you, pulling you closer to his naked form. You looked at the dark circles around his eyes before meeting his actual eyes. A few words slipped through—as if he could still recall the language he had used for years somewhere deep in his brain—slurring out a loose connection of words that sounded like: “You break it… I break you…”

Zed’s mind was everywhere yet nowhere at once. His feral side was feeling and processing all of the emotions from his “human” side. So many things in his head were whirring for the first time in a while, and nothing was shutting down to compensate for the rising new emotions of rapacity—the urge to have it all and take it all. His head was already running at one-hundred and ten percent so now he needed to claim things in the room. To make things his. His room; the little voice in the back of his head that he suppressed about being annoyed by the fact that he had to share a room with you was finally being heard. You’d walk out of this—or better yet, be carried—with a new perspective on ownership.

Sex with Zed was fast. The urges brought on by his true zombie nature allowed him to rip off the clothes you wore to attend class. They were in shreds, adding to scattered bits of his broken toy, some landing on the sharper parts of it so that you didn’t have to worry about stepping on something painful as he guided you to his bed. It was the closest one to him and the easiest to throw you down on since the sheets were all undone, unmade. He would make you a mess in the next few moments so it didn’t really matter to him.

But for the first time, Zed was faced with a challenge in his zombie brain. He had put you on his bed—the faint smells of sex and sweat emanating into your nose from how much he jerked off in his bed, typically covered by his comforter—but now he looked at you, laid on your back, head on his pillow, and he was faced with one of two choices: did he want to cum in your mouth or your ass? He wanted to do both, and he hit his head in frustration, grunting. The simple thoughts his undead brain was meant to handle couldn’t stomach this as easily as brains.

A feeling deep within him told him that your ass would bring him the greater amount of pleasure, so he hopped on the bed with you, kneeling. His increased strength allowed him to lift your legs easily and with an unmatched haste. Your hole was in clear sight, and he wasted no time in burying himself down into it and lapping away. It was another sensation he had, thanks to consuming a million videos of porn in his spare time. That, and he was still a zombie. Flesh was something that he wanted to taste during his feral frenzy. It was the only thing his tongue tasted: the saltiness of skin. He felt so good, and you wanted to bury your fingers in his vibrant green hair to push him deeper into you, but that seemed a little too risky in his current state. Besides, he didn’t stay down there long. His head reared up a few moments after going down on you, his clear intention to fuck you until he comes, not the other way around.

Thanks to already fucking his fleshlight, his dick was still coated in lube; still sheening with its slick surface reflecting the light. When he put his dick in, he didn’t feel any friction, and he wouldn’t have cared if he did. The friction didn’t bother him and if it didn’t bother him, then it shouldn’t bother you. It never became a problem, though.

Zed decided that the perfect position to keep you in was with your legs over each of his thin shoulders. He started thrusting, taking little to no time to go as fast as he could. He was desperate, uncaring if you needed time to adjust. But, like everything else about his zombie-heightened feelings, what it took to make him cum went up too—much higher than his regular edging point.

Zed was a quick learner. He found which spots made you feel the best—well, which ones made your face twist and your head turn into his pillow as he fucked you. That seemed to make him climb to the peak faster than anything else. Your ass was tight and soft, sure, but it was your reaction to how he dominated you with his big dick that really made him get going. He unleashed a flurry of moans that were deeper than the voice you got used to hearing.

Wet sounds and slapping filled the room until he came for the first time. You could feel your ass burning from the rough slapping and the way he kept up the skin-to-skin contact—breeding you until he was out of breath. Just like when he first transformed into the beastly version of himself.

Zed pulled his dick out and you could hear the wet gushing, as well as the feeling of your hole leaking with his cum. He must have been really pent-up because it was already ruining his sheets and still seeping out of the tip of his dick. You looked around for his Z-band, still gathering your surroundings and acclimating yourself to the point-of-view of his bed. It looked to be on his dresser and within arm’s reach, so you went to grab it. But Zed stopped you, guiding your hand to his dick that was still hard. This was going to be a long night…

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hadesoftheladies · 8 months

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queer theory is actually a nightmarish frankensteinian creation of postmodernism, and post-modernists philosophers have frequently and explicitly been pro-pedophilia, because this is a logical consequence of what post-modernism says is true: there is no (epistemic) certainty or stable meaning.

when my conservative parents tell me they basically associate "lgbtq" with "maps" and pedophilia, they have reason to do so, given how "queer culture" is fundamentally a creation of post-modernist values, and post-modernist estimations of sexuality. everything is fluid, no binary exists, no meaning is fixed, so there are no defining lines, which means lines cannot actually be crossed. homosexuals can be bisexual, man and woman are interchangeable meaningless terms, and attraction to children is just one of the many ways sexual fluidity is expressed in humans, a benign and normal thing that should be released from modernist moralistic confines

that is queer philosophy, and it is actual queer culture. so not only are LGB folk being told they should celebrate the reclamation of an awful slur that explicitly others them as "perverted" and "strange", but now they are told to embrace queer culture (which means queer identity and philosophy) which not only declares their reality as abnormal and unreal (same-sex attraction is myth, since there is no such thing as sex and attraction is fluid), but also defines them explicitly with sexual perversions like pedophilia and bdsm: which IS EXACTLY WHAT HOMOPHOBES BELIEVE ABOUT THEM.

when queer culture is predicated on subjective feelings of identity needing to be validated, celebrated and "set free" from modernist (read definable, material and epistemological) structures, then the distaste for MAPs from queer folk doesn't mean anything, because even if MAPs are publicly rejected by queer culture, they are embraced and validated by queer theory and post-modernist philosophy.

what is doubly baffling to me is how the lgbtq+ community has tainted a movement for gay rights, you know, people who are being killed and ostracized for being same-sex attracted. not only nullifying their experiences and struggle in being same-sex attracted, not only associating their neutral, normal orientations with perversions and kinks, making something neutral political . . .

but they have also actively decentered a movement for homosexuals and bisexuals in order to accommodate identities that have NOTHING to do with that struggle or fight. intersex conditions, gender dysphoria, and asexuality have nothing to do with the oppression LGBs have faced for their sexual orientation and gender nonconformity, their culture of genderlessness. the idea that men and women can wear and present however they want, love and be attracted to the same sex, without it altering their material status.

EVEN MORE INFURIATINGLY, queer politics has offered almost ZERO challenges to patriarchy. by throwing out definitions, throwing out distinctions, it has relegated the essence of oppression to an individualistic, liberal fantasy that is powerless to change the system, and so can only grant us "spicy" patriarchy. dominance and submission, patriarchal inventions, are now cool kinks that every couple should try. gender is now open access (but still necessary), so men can wear heels and still call women slurs and violently harass them. transmen can go by he/him and still be refused abortion access! gay people are gender fetishists, not sinners. nothing has structurally changed, it's just we have cool names now! :)

so now LGB and women all over the fucking world are relegated to this homophobic misogynistic hell whether we turn to the left or right, and when we speak up about it, conservative homophobes and misogynists confuse us with liberal perverts, and liberal homophobes and misogynists conflate us with conservative sadists.

the structure doesn't change. there is no actual progress. like, same-sex right and women's movements all over the world have suffered for this. because white liberal westerners wanted to play around with words and have that count as activism.

i fucking hate queer theory and politics. i fucking hate how rich western whites shit on every human rights movement while capitalizing on them.

#queer theory #feminism #radblr #lgbtq #queer

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nekropsii · 16 days

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What a about Caliborn makes him so cool in your opinion?

Go keep track of his progression as an artist alongside his development as a character and think about how these are intrinsically linked. Ponder the fact that he is both at his most obnoxious and at his most amateur when trying to ignore his unique style explicitly brought on by his canonical learning disability and mimic others rather than truly be himself. Consider how his explorations of art are genuinely cool, not a bad thing, and how we get some really neat multimedia stuff out of it.

Caliborn may be a shitty little teenage wretch but the way he is portrayed as an artist and as a disabled person is both really good and very real. It comes from a place of love. His learning disability is handled with a degree of gentle care that you would not really expect from Hussie. The place Caliborn's art style ends up in is so fucking sick and I actually unironically love it. The technique he uses is really interesting. It's intentionally reminiscent of an Etch-a-Sketch, and I'm a little obsessed with it.

This is so fucking good. I mean this seriously. He's right - that is some Pure Art Skill.

I just love the way art is employed as a necessary component of his character arc. It's so neat. You don't see visual cues that intricate too often. Usually it's just in character design, but watching his entire art style and even his medium of choice change several times over is fascinating. You can really tell Hussie had a lot of fun with him. He's also just really, really fucking funny. Just about every sentence that comes out of his mouth is Grade A Absolute Fucking Gold, and I'm honestly obsessed with his dynamic with Dirk. This may get me thrown to the wolves, but I personally think Dirk and Caliborn have way more chemistry than Dirk and Jake. Maybe that's because we actually see Dirk and Caliborn interact on screen... Lmao.

Necessary Topic: I don't know why people hate him so much. Like, I understand hating his misogyny and fatphobia, sure, but those are deliberate character points and not just Hussie-isms. I see people act like Caliborn is indicative of Hussie, as if Homestuck-era Hussie wasn't, like, famously really fucking good at writing female characters and absolutely not a misogynist. Caliborn's a parody of Homestuck Anti-Fans - which is a term we really ought to bring back, god, anti-fans are absolutely still a thing and good lord they're everywhere - who really were just shitty little bigoted haters. Calliope, the opposite side of his coin, was representative of, essentially, "the best kind of Homestuck fan" - an ultimately sweet young teen girl who willingly dedicates almost all of her time to this piece of fiction she loves so, so much, who draws a lot of fan art for the joy of it all, has OCs that don't fit any of the design conventions in Homestuck whom she pairs with the characters in it for innocent fun. Someone who has a lot of theories and analyses, writes a lot of fanfic, and is genuinely just having a lot of fun. Everyone loves Calliope. Even the characters in Homestuck love Calliope. They just think she's the cutest, sweetest little thing they ever did see. Caliborn was the worst kind. He sucks on purpose. No one likes him. He is a total nuisance to characters he is by all means trying to impress. I love them both.

It's also just funny that he's a canonical Intersex Transmasc who is probably Gay and this has, like, no relevance to anything about him, really. So no one really talks about it. Gender Hilarious, Gender Nefarious.

#homestuck #homestuck meta #homestuck analysis #cherubs #homestuck cherubs #caliborn #calliope #caliborn.pdf #nekro.pdf #nekro.sms

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gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 3 months

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Is there anything support the populat interpretation that old valriya and valryians in general are more feminist, and progressive than the rest in Asoiaf?

Anon, thank you! I've been wanting to address this for awhile, so I'm going to actually answer this really fully, with as many receipts as I can provide (this ended up being more of an essay than I intended, but hopefully it helps)

I think there's in fact plenty of evidence to suggest that Valyria and the Valyrians in general were anything but progressive. Valyria was an expansive empire with a robust slave trade that practiced incest based on the idea of blood supremacy/blood purity. All of these things are absolutely antithetical to progressivism. There is no way any empire practicing slavery can ever be called progressive. Now, the Targaryens of Dragonstone have since given up the practice of slavery, but they certainly still believe in the supremacy of Valyrian blood.

And I'll see the argument, well what's wrong with believing your blood is special if your blood really is special and magic? Which is just-- if anyone catches themselves thinking this, and you sincerely believe that GRRM intended to create a magically superior master race of hot blondes who deserve to rule over all other backwards races by virtue of their superior breeding which is reinforced through brother-sister incest, and you've convinced yourself this represents progressive values, then you might want to step away from the computer for a bit and do a bit of self reflection.

And remember-- what is special about this special blood? It gives the bearers the ability to wield sentient weapons of mass destruction. It's also likely, according to the most popular theories, the result of blood magic involving human sacrifice. So there is a terrible price to pay for this so-called supremacy. Would any of us line up to be sacrificed to the Fourteen Flames so that the Valyrians can have nukes?

And if you are tempted by the idea that a woman who rides a dragon must inherently have some sort of power-- that is true. A woman who rides a dragon is more powerful than a woman who does not ride a dragon, and in some cases, more powerful than a man who does not ride a dragon, but that does not make her more powerful than a man who also rides a dragon. Dragonriding remained a carefully guarded privilege, and Targaryen women who might otherwise become dragonriders were routinely denied the privilege (despite the oft repeated "you cannot steal a dragon," when Saera Targaryen attempted to claim a dragon from the dragonpit, she was thrown into a cell for the attempted "theft,"words used by Jaehaerys). The dragonkeepers were established explicitly to keep anyone, even those of Targaryen blood, from taking them without permission. Any "liberation" that she has achieved is an illusion. What she has gained is the ability to enact violence upon others who are less privileged, and this ability does not save her from being the victim of gender based violence herself.

Politically speaking, it is also true that Valyria was a "freehold," in that they did not have a hereditary monarchy, but instead had a political structure akin to Ancient Athens (which was itself democratic, but not at all progressive or feminist). Landholding citizens could vote on laws and on temporary leaders, Archons. Were any of the lords freeholder women? We don't know. If we take Volantis as an example, the free city that seems to consider itself the successor to Valyria, the party of merchants, the elephants, had several female leaders three hundred years ago, but the party of the aristocracy, the tigers, the party made up of Valyrian Old Blood nobility, has never had a female leader. Lys, the other free city, is known for it's pleasure houses, which mainly employ women kidnapped into sexual slavery (as well as some young men). It is ruled by a group of magisters, who are chosen from among the wealthiest and noblest men in the city, not women. There does not seem to be a tradition of female leadership among Valyrians, and that's reflected by Aegon I himself, who becomes king, rather than his older sister-wife, Visenya. And although there have been girls named heir, temporarily, among the pre-Dance Targaryens, none were named heir above a trueborn brother aside from Rhaenyra, a choice that sparked a civil war. In this sense, the Targaryens are no different from the rest of Westeros.

As for feminism or sexual liberation, there's just no evidence to support it. We know that polygamy was not common, but it was also not entirely unheard of, but incest, to keep the bloodlines "pure," was common. Incest and polygamy are certainly sexual taboos, both in the real world and in Westeros, that the Valyrians violated, but the violation of sexual taboos is not automatically sexually liberated or feminist. Polygamy, when it is exclusively practiced by men and polyandry is forbidden (and we have no examples of Valyrian women taking multiple husbands, outside of fanfic), is often abusive to young women. Incest leads to an erosion of family relationships and abusive grooming situations are inevitable. King Jaehaerys' daughters are an excellent case study, and the stories of Saera and Viserra are particularly heartbreaking. Both women were punished severely for "sexual liberation," Viserra for getting drunk and slipping into her brother Baelon's bed at age fifteen, in an attempt to avoid an unwanted marriage to an old man. She was not punished because she was sister attempting to sleep with a brother, but because she was the wrong sister. Her mother, the queen had already chosen another sister for Baelon, and believed her own teenage daughter was seducing her brother for nefarious reasons. As a sister, Viserra should have been able to look to her brother for protection, but as the product of an incestuous family, Viserra could only conceive of that protection in terms of giving herself over to him sexually.

Beyond that, sexual slavery was also common in ancient Valyria, a practice that persisted in Lys and Volantis, with women (and young men) trafficked from other conquered and raided nations. Any culture that is built on a foundation of slavery and which considers sexual slavery to be normal and permissible, is a culture of normalized rape. Not feminist, not progressive.

I think we get the picture! so where did this idea that Valyrians are more progressive come from? I think there are two reasons. One, the fandom has a bit of a tendency to imagine Valyrians and their traditions in opposition to Westerosi Sevenism, and if Sevenism is fantasy Catholicism, and the fantasy Catholics also hate the Valyrian ways, they must hate them because those annoying uptight religious freaks just hate everything fun and cool, right? They hate revealing clothing, hate pornographic tapestries, hate sex outside of marriage, hate bastards. So being on Sevenism's shit-list must be a mark of honor, a sign of progressive values? But it's such a surface level reading, and a real misunderstanding of the medieval Catholic church, and a conflating of that church with the later Puritan values that many of us in the Anglosphere associate with being "devout." For most of European history, the Catholic church was simply The Church, and the church was, ironically, where you would find the material actions which most closely align with modern progressive values. The church cared for lepers, provided educations for women, took care of orphans, and fed the poor. In GRRM's world, which is admittedly more secular than the actual medieval world, Sevenism nevertheless has basically the same function, feeding the poor instead of, you know, enslaving them.

Finally, I blame the shows. While Valyrians weren't a progressive culture, Daenerys Targaryen herself held relatively progressive individual values by a medieval metric. She is a slavery abolitionist, she elevates women within her ranks, and she takes control of her own sexuality (after breaking free from her Targaryen brother). But Daenerys wasn't raised as a Targaryen. She grew up an orphan in exile, hearing stories of her illustrious ancestors from her brother, who of the two did absorb a bit of that culture, and is not coincidentally, fucked up, abusive, and misogynistic. He feels a sexual ownership over his sister, arranges a marriage for her, and even after her marriage, feels entitled to make decisions on her behalf. It is only after breaking away from Viserys that Dany comes into her own values. Having once been a mere object without agency of her own, she determines to save others from that fate and becomes an abolitionist. But because Game of Thrones gave viewers very little exposure to Targaryens aside from Daenerys, House Targaryen, in the eyes of most show watchers, is most closely associated with Dany and her freedom-fighter values. And as for Rhaenyra in House of the Dragon, being a female heir does not make her feminist or progressive, although it is tempting to view her that way when she is juxtaposed against Aegon II. Her "sexual liberation" was a lesson given to her by her uncle Daemon, a man who had an express interest in "liberating" her so that she would sleep with him, it was not a value she was raised with. In fact, she was very nearly disinherited for it, and was forced into a marriage with a gay man as a result of said "liberation." She had no interest in changing succession laws to allow absolute primogeniture, no interest in changing laws or norms around bastardy despite having bastards; she simply viewed herself as an exception. Rhaenyra's entire justification for her claim is not the desire to uplift women, bring peace and stability to Westeros, or even to keep her brother off the throne, it is simply that she believes she deserves it because her father is the king and he told her she could have it, despite all tradition and norms, and in spite of the near certain succession crisis it will cause. Whether she is right or wrong, absolutism is not progressive.

And let me just say, none of this means that you can't enjoy the Valyrians or think that they're fun or be a fan of house Targaryen. This insistence that Targaryens are the progressive, feminist (read: morally good) house seems by connected to the need of some fans to make their favorite characters unproblematic. If the Valyrians are "bad," does that make you a bad person for enjoying them? Of course not. But let's stop the moral grandstanding about the "feminist" and "progressive" Valyrians in a series that is an analogue for medieval feudalism. Neither of those things can exist under the systems in place in Westeros, nor could they have existed in the slavery based empire of conquest that was old Valyria.

#asks #sorry this got so long #anti targaryen #old valyria #viserra targaryen #house targaryen #hotd critical #asoiaf #hotd #game of thrones #valyrians were not progressive #or feminist #or sexually liberated

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kalamity-jayne · 1 month

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Sorry for asking but I am a cis male teenager (well, I thought I was.) but lately I have realized I think I might be a trans girl? I am very scared to drop my masculinity. How did you find out you were trans if that’s okay to ask?

Of course it's ok! I am always happy to help someone who is questioning their gender. However, this is actually a pretty loaded question, because while there is a lot of talk about "when my egg cracked" in trans circles, figuring out you're trans isn't always attributable to any one singular event. Some folks might crack through and emerge from their egg in one swift motion but that is not true for everyone, it certainly wasn't true for me. Sure I could tell about the moment the first crack in my shell appeared, but a single crack in the egg is a far cry from actually breaking out. For many it's a process that can involve a series of revelations and tends to require lots of self reflection and learning how to love yourself. So, there is no quick and easy answer for this. However, I think my story will have a number of different lessons relevant to your question.

Before getting into all that though, I feel I must point out that cisgender folks rarely ask themselves these kinds of questions and when they do entertain these thoughts it's brief and comes with very little agony. The fact you have gone so far as to reach out to trans woman for advice, the fact the you are clearly worried by the prospect of being trans, is a pretty clear indicator that you probably are trans. Regardless of whether you actually are transgender or not, I want you to know that either way, it's ok. You will be ok, no matter what conclusions you come to.

Now, the story of how I figured out I was trans. Bear in mind, the first “aha moment” was 20 yrs ago and things were very different back then. I was about 17yrs old at the time and the term transgender didn't have the currency then that it does now, there wasn't the robust set of terminology that we have today, there were far fewer resources to turn to, no social media, and the overall public opinion was significantly more hostile towards anything LGBT. Anyway, more below the cut.

I didn't follow the typical trans narrative of the time in the sense that, as a child I didn't really care about my clothes so long as my favorite cartoon characters were on 'em, I liked toys typically marketed towards boys, I looked like a boy and everyone referred to me as a boy. So I thought I was a boy. However, I do have a vague memory from early childhood, somewhere between the ages of 4-6, of sneaking into my mother’s room and stealing a pair of her satin underwear and trying it on (it surely would have been too big on me but I remember liking the texture of the fabric) and hiding it under my bed. This memory has since been confirmed during my adulthood by my brother who shared a room with me at the time and had apparently found the hidden stash.

From an early age I was explicitly shunted towards masculinity. I was regularly told to “stop acting like a girl,” and “quit crying like a girl,” and even at one point to “stop walking like a girl,” by my peers and one of my brothers. By the time I was a teenager I was doing my best to be as masculine as possible going so far as joining the highschool wrestling team, a sport that is as homophobic as it is homoerotic, and I hated every minute of it because being manly didn't feel natural to me (and it definitely didn't stop the bullying). It felt like I was trying to ice skate uphill. I fit in but only imperfectly for I was merely acting.

I was also very confused about my sexuality. I thought maybe I was gay or bisexual (turns out the latter) but that didn’t really explain what I was feeling. Around 17yrs old I got curious about transsexuals, thinking maybe the answers would be found there and hoped on to the early and oh so clunky internet. Now I knew of transsexuals conceptually but I didn't know anything about them. Sadly, pornography was really the only reliable way to actually see what a trans body looked like back then. I was stunned because the women I saw did not look at all the way I expected. I was blown away by how so many of them, genitalia aside, looked indistinguishable from cisgender women. And they were all absurdly beautiful. I felt an immediate attraction but there was something else I felt too, envy. And that realization was the first crack in my eggshell.

After that I couldn't get the thought of crossdressing out of my head. So, I dug through a box of my mother's old clothes and took a few items she no longer wore, an old white tennis skirt and a very very 70s sleeveless orange blouse. I was so comfortable in those clothes and when I looked at myself in the mirror I felt good, really good. So, I continued exploring, shaved off all of of my body hair, went to department stores that were open late at night to buy girl clothes (deathly afraid someone would recognize me), I would stay up late at night to watch HBO because at midnight they would occasionally air stuff about trans people, (I remember two documentary shorts in particular and the movie Soldier’s Girl) and I scoured the internet for more information. The internet search brought me to a website called TG list (at least I think that’s what it was called, this was 20yrs ago after all) which was a directory of resources ranging from The Breast Form Store (which still exists!), a myriad of gender identity quizzes (I took nearly every single one), and Susan’s Place.

Susan’s place was one of the few reliable places to hear from actual transgender adults. Unfortunately, while Susan's Place had a lot of useful information the forums there were full of horror stories, a never-ending supply of all the things those women had suffered. So needless to say, there was little to no positivity around transness to give me hope. I was afraid to call myself trans as a result, afraid of what it meant for my life, my future, and my physical safety (you have to remember that back then Mathew Shepard wasn’t old news, his tragedy was practically current events). So I called myself a crossdresser but for reasons I didn't understand at the time I deeply resented that label. I think deep down, no matter how much I tried to deny it and bury it, a part of knew I wanted to be a girl. So when I came out to my parents as a crossdresser and explicitly told them I wasn't trans, that I didn’t have any desire to transition to female, there was that lil voice at the back of my mind calling me a liar. That voice would follow me until my late 20s.

Coming out was a real struggle for me because not only did I think my life would literally be in jeopardy, I thought everyone would think I was making it up, having not followed the stereotypical models of transsexuality. When I came out to my parents they didn't disown me or anything but they were noticeably uncomfortable around me when I was in girl mode. At a certain point I needed their help (credit card) to buy a gaff for tucking and that was when my parents, out of a misguided desire to protect me, pushed me back into the egg. Because of their rejection I spent the rest of highschool and most of my college years trying to hold the egg together with even more denial and by doubling down on masculinity. While I did have some fun during my college years, on balance I was miserable and depressed. I chafed at my male costume and I knew I was lying to myself the entire time, and I hurt myself a great deal.

During my senior year of college I started privately dabbling with crossdressing again, the desire had been nagging at me incessantly. A short time after graduating I met my wife who accepted that side of me and she introduced me to the BDSM/kink community, and the overall culture of nonjudgmental acceptance there cracked the egg for good, because is provided spaces besides my own room where I felt safe being a girl. From that point on I slowly but surely came out of the egg, first calling myself a crossdresser, then genderfluid for awhile, then GENDA passed in NY making me an explicitly protected class and for the next 2 yrs I presented as a they/them genderqueer woman 100% full time without HRT (I was still reluctant to call myself a woman).

I wrestled a long time with the choice to go on HRT. Ultimately that was always a big stumbling block for me. Therapy had gotten me pretty far but I was still afraid of so much and was unsure I would be happy with the changes because my parents had initially rejected me as their daughter in very paternalistic fashion I struggled to trust my own instincts. I still struggle with that sometimes. Eventually, I befriended a trans woman in my neighborhood who pointed out HRT works very slowly and that it takes a long time for any permanent changes to take root. So, she suggested I give it a try and if it didn't feel right I could stop.

I was also taking gender identity quizzes again. Now most of these claim to be diagnostic and those ones a generally misogynistic garbage (they ask stupid questions like, “are you good at math?” and assign a gendered value to the answer) but I happened upon one that started with the disclaimer that it wasn't diagnostic and instead only offered questions that are good to think with. Two questions in particular were very helpful. The first asked, "If you could take a pill that would allow you to wake up tomorrow as a girl, would you take it?" My answer was a hesitant yes, but that yes was bolstered by the next question, "If you could take a pill that would allow you to wake up as a man, in your current body, but without any dysphoria or desires to be feminine, would you take it?" My answer was an emphatic no because that would have felt like killing an important part of myself off. I then at the age of 33yrs old started HRT and 4yrs in I am incredibly happy. That was one of the best decisions I have ever made.

Now, I know that was a lot of fucking text to read but I wrote all of that because I know the prospect of maybe being a trans girl feels scary to you right now but I want to assure you that as daunting as it may seem there is so much about being a trans woman that is full of beauty and joy. I love my trans womanhood and despite the hardships, I wouldn’t give it up for anything. In fact the opposite is true. Knowing what I know now, I would give up almost everything in order to be a woman. So if you feel like you want to give girlhood a try, do it! You can take small incremental steps and you can always stop if it doesn’t feel right, either way you will gain a degree of self knowledge most cisgender people lack completely and that is absolutely priceless! Plus, unlike me when I was a teen, there’s all kinds of resources and information available to you now and an entire community of people ready to help you, and unlike the women in the forums from my past, we aren’t all gloom and doom.

As for your fear of giving up masculinity, don’t let that fear lure you into the denial trap like it did me. Denial is like quicksand, once you’re in it becomes hard to get out, the more you struggle the deeper in you go and it is so very suffocating. And the thing is, you actually don’t have to give it all up. Back when I was presenting full time as woman without HRT, I felt like I had to be ultra feminine all the time, full face of make-up, dress, heels, the whole nine yards. Now that I’m 4 yrs in with HRT I don’t feel that pressure anymore and have since reclaimed certain aspects of masculinity I actually liked. I sill like presenting high femme from time to time but these days I mostly rock a soft butch aesthetic, flannel/t-shirt, jeans and the only makeup I wear daily is just a lil bit of blush. At certain point you become comfortable and realize that gender is just a sandbox to play in and experiment. Masculine and Feminine are just concepts, they aren’t real! so regardless of being cis or trans, don’t let those mere concepts box you in! Just do what feels natural and right to you!

I hope all of that was helpful to you anon, and that at the very least you walk away from this knowing you don’t have to have all of the answers about yourself right now. Now, I don't no the particulars of your situation, so I’m happy to speak with you further if you have follow up questions, just send another anon.

Best of luck to you anon, I am rooting for you!

Big hugs,

Mother Calamity

#advice from a trans mom #Transition #HRT #Transgender #cracking the egg #ask/answer #anon #mother calamity!

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