#and even more embarrassed that i cant maintain passion for anything

[corvidcall]

i feel bad that i havent done any of my hobbies in a long time... ive been so tired but i don't feel like i even have a good reason for why im so much more tired than i was back when. i was doing hobbies. i was tired when they were making me do more work and i was tired when i didnt have any adderall and i was tired when my period was super heavy but idk what my problem is now!!!

[romanoffsbish]

Left Hanging

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

Request | Wanda felt bad, truly, but how else were you gonna learn? | WC: 1,152

Smut: Mommy (W) | Fingering (R) | Teasing | Choking | Degradation | Orgasm Denial

18+ | Minors DNI

“Wet already?” Wanda quirked a brow at you, her devilish smile showcasing her budding amusement at your desperate state. “I see you're so eager, hm?” You rolled your eyes, and huffed: “See what a mess you've made me?”

Wanda’s soft touch dissipated instantaneously, she was finally giving into your needy ways after hours of relentless teasing and you want to get smart with her instead of appreciative.

——

“I could just go back to the party you know,” she mused aloud, but her fingers betrayed her threat as they plunged into your heat without any warning and your moans soon bellowed off the walls as she started off with a brutal pace.

“Please,” your hands clawed at the collar of her undershirt, the defiance in your eyes melted into the fresh tears that now lined your lashes. “I-I’ll be good now mommy, I-I swear to it.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep up the facade for long. She wanted to fuck you dumb just as much as you needed her to, but that didn’t mean she had to be kind about it.

“You’re such a selfish brat Y/N,” she grunted against the skin of your neck, her tongue slid over the salty skin and she reveled in the way that she could feel your erratic pulse racing. “Just a desperate whore in need of her mommy to fill her holes, never caring about others.”

Suddenly you remembered the occasion, it was Yelena’s birthday, so you weakly tried to shove your girlfriend off of you, but you never shoved hard enough for it to mean anything. Remorse might weigh heavy on your heart for leaving your best friend downstairs, but you were too busy getting your very own roughly fucked.

The witch bit into the heated skin surrounding your pulse point and your walls fluttered with a warning that you wished the brunette ignored. “Pathetic,” Wanda huskily chuckled against the shell of your ear and you whimpered in a mix of embarrassment and despair as she was intentionally keeping you perpetually teetering.

Her free, deft hand snaked up your body as she marked what was hers with passionate grunts, and soon those nimble fingers replaced her hungry teeth and rid you of the air you craved. Wanda knew you desired this sensation much more anyways, you’d always been unable to hide your infatuation with all things morbid.

“Look at you,” she chuckled tauntingly, her grip around your throat tightened, “pathetic.” Wanda never failed to remind you of this fact every single time, because you’d yet to prove her wrong with just how quick you submit to her. Like now, just as she expected your hips canted up even faster as you chased your high.

It was actually quite hard for her to show her restraint here, she actually no longer even had to thrust her hand as you’d eagerly taken over the process of fucking yourself dumb. Wanda refused to let you cum though, so she watched closely as the haze in your eyes flourished, and just as your back began to arch off the mattress and your eyes fluttered shut she abruptly took her fingers back from your clenching warmth.

A flicker of defiance returned to your eyes, but her hand squeezed your neck once more as her head tilted and you settled into the expected punishment. You’d actually let yourself believe this time would be different—what a fool.

“Clean yourself up,” she commanded as the warmth of her body no longer hovered yours. You blinked a few times, mouth running as dry as your eyes when she moaned around her slicked up fingers. She winked down at you as she saw your thighs clench involuntarily. “We better not miss the cake cutting detka…”

You headed her warning, hopping up onto shaky legs and moving to pull your panties up. However a hand stopped yours, Wanda shook her head while maintaining eye contact with you as she slid them in the opposite direction.

Wanda slid her suit jacket back on, and folded your slick green lace panties into the perfect triangle that she slipped into her polo pocket. Then she extended her hand tainted with your scent to you with a stern gaze and you took it. Albeit reluctantly as she guided you back out, you gulped as the cold air highlighted the stark wetness coating your thighs, the trail leading up to your exposed cunt that squelched with each shaky step you took back downstairs.

At least the music was loud enough to shield the shred of dignity you clung to as the room full of your peers knowingly looked at you.

Natasha smirked over her glass as she took in the way you wobbled towards her sister, and then her eyes rolled when Wanda settled down besides her on the leather couch. “Are you sure it isn’t you who’s the brat here Wands?”

Wanda chuckled, “Takes one to tame one.” Then she proved the woman’s point as she stole her glass and polished off her cocktail. Natasha glared at her, but then she hummed her agreement, “Touché,” the redhead then beckoned her very own tamed brat over.

“Hey Wanda,” Maria politely greeted as she settled down onto Natasha’s manspread lap even though the couch had plenty of space.

Wanda smiled at her, and the three spent a few minutes chatting before she felt a pang in her chest at the sound of your distant laughter.

“It’s well beyond eleven Wanda, you can call it a night without being a loser,” Natasha teased her pouting best friend, to which she received a weak shove as the brunette used her body to propel herself off the couch. “Farewell asshole, I’m so sorry for your sake Maria. Godspeed.”

When you felt a hand on your waist you tensed as Yelena mindlessly droned on. This situation had been the exact thing that got you in trouble earlier in the night, but then you caught a whiff of your girlfriend’s spiced vanilla perfume that paired so well with her natural pheromones you couldn’t help but to melt right into her.

“You ready to go honey?” She lowly husked as her thumbs pressed into the exposed skin of your hips. “Mommy’s ready to reward you now if you’ll just say a proper goodbye to Lena.���

You lunged forward and embraced your bestie in a tight hug that she reciprocated, the blonde lightly chuckled as she felt your body buzzing.

“Happy Birthday Lena, see you later?!” You squished her cheeks between your hands, and she smiled knowingly. “Go on Y/N, someone should at least have fun in their birthday suit!”

Wanda rolled her eyes, and whispered to the blonde: “Kate’s only two eager seats away.” Then she whisked you off, practically carrying you to her car as your legs were still shaky.

You were in for the night of your life…

[sweettodo]

TUTOR ⟿ KATSUKI BAKUGO X FEM!READER [pt. two].

Includes : thigh riding, slight smut, swearing.

Word count : 2584 - tried writing more of a story type thing, read part one of you want, or don’t. It’ll just add up more if you read pt 1

••

I drag my feet down the boys dorm hallway, my head fuming and my hands trembling from anger. I cant believe I have to do this shit. I’d rather watch grass grow.

I hesitate knocking on the door, my fist just in the air centimeters away from the door, I sigh and finally knock.

“Oh- Hi y/n!” I’m almost relieved it’s Kirishima at the door instead of Bakugo.

“Hi Kirishima, Bakugo here?” I drag, he nods and widens the door to let me in.

I walk in and stand there like a ditz in front of Bakugo, who’s wearing sweats and a sweatshirt. He looks at me with bug eyes. “Well look at what the cat dragged in.” He cackles, I roll my eyes and make myself comfortable, plopping down on the couch and placing my bag on the coffee table.

“Just do your thing please.” I mutter, taking out my notebook, chemistry packets and a pencil. An eyebrow raises, he smirks, cracking his knuckles and propping his elbows on his knees.

“Do my thing? Matter of fact, why are you here?” I scoff and it takes me every bone in my body to not get up and leave. But I needed to be the bigger person. I needed to act like a good girl.

“Can you-“ I take in a sharp breath of air before swallowing my pride, “can you help me?” Kirishima practically jumps out of his skin, he’s absolutely blown away in fact.

“Someone pinch me; this cant be real!” He exclaims, I roll my eyes and Bakugo smiles, standing and grabbing his bag, walking up to me and sitting down on the couch.

“Kirishima you can leave for now.” He shoo’s his friend away.

“Sure bud, I’ll be back later, bye y/n!” Kiri dismisses himself and leaves.

“You didn’t come to class today? I hope you don’t get me sick.” I state, he opens his laptop and glances back at me.

“You just love hearing yourself talk don’t you.” He crudely says, “I’m not sick, I just didn’t want to go to classes today.” He mumbles.

“Very studious of you.” I mutter under my breath.

“You want me to help you or what?!” He shoots.

“Alright- Jesus.” I retort.

I pick up my notebook and wait for him to pull up slides that he’s gonna help me with. The air in the room was tight. It was like if I made a sudden movement something catastrophic would happen. I was uncomfortable, I couldn’t quite tell how he felt.

“Here we go, you should start writing; what’s due this week for you?” He asks, he looks at me and watches as I shuffle through my packets. This was all late work. I was in shambles.

“This.” I hand him a worksheet about Ions.

“This is easy shit y/n,” he reads the questions out loud, “first, do you know anything about ionic compounds?” He asks.

“Uhh- I know a little.” I scratch the back of my head, he lets out a little grunt and snatches my pencil from my hand.

“Fine, let’s work on the periodic table, answer these two questions- the ones about reactivity.” I nod my head and start writing in the lines. “Let me read it when you’re done.” He sticks his hands in his pockets. This was the first time we’ve shared words in a very long - long time.

A few minutes pass, I feel somewhat okay with what I’ve written, I hand him the paper and he reads it, his eyes moving along the paper while I gnaw at my bottom lip in anticipation, I was almost nervous about what he was gonna say. My heart was slightly pounding, I was getting hot.

I slip the white sweater from over my head and looks at me in question, judging eyes staring at my white button up, watching me wipe my hands onto my arms.

“It’s sorta okay, just write more about why Calcium is more reactive.” He says quietly, returning the paper to me, I grab it and continue writing. The room was quiet.

“Here- is that-” I quickly stop myself.

“Is it what?” He responds, slowly taking the paper from me. ‘Oh my god’ I repeat in my head.

“Is it what?” He repeats, I gulp in embarrassment.

“Is it okay?” I mutter, a smug look curls onto his mouth, he leans back into the couch, my cheeks are overtaken with a pounding hot feeling.

“Looks fine to me.” He declares, I take the paper from him and stick it in my folder.

••

With his laptop sitting on his thigh, his body centimeters away from mine, he reads and teaches me everything I’ve missed; the hour since I arrived was moving smoother, he reads, I write, he has me answer the questions on the assignments.

His body radiated a welcoming warm, this past hour he inched closer to me; in result, keeping me comfortable while I sat pretty in my skirt and knee highs.

“Alright answer this and show me when you’re done.” I take the paper from his hand and begin writing. I don’t notice him peering over my work until I’m interrupted, “no, erase that.” Bakugo’s leg is now touching my own, his right hand grabbing my pencil from my hand and erasing a sentence, his wrist applying pressure against my thigh and I look at him, he slowly brings his head up to look up at me.

We stare at each other for a few moments, my heart once again pounding out of my chest, my throat completely shut. The tension in the room could cut, I couldn’t name what I was feeling.

His hand grabs the paper and the notebook that sat under it, the computer now in the table, still maintaining eye contact, I had never seen this side of Bakugo. He tosses it on the table, inches away from my face, something clicks.

His hand grabs the collar of my shirt, pulling me forward, I suck in a breath, my eyes widened and I look at him, he looks down at me into my eyes for a split second before enveloping me into a kiss. Our lips move in sync, my head tilted to the right while his hand hangs onto my collar.

My ears grow hot, my hand slightly trembles and the air in my body is completely gone, that’s probably why I felt so dizzy.

His hand hesitantly makes its way to the small of my back, pulling me closer to his body, my leg slightly on top of his thigh, he pulls me further over his thigh. One of my legs somewhat dangling and the other folded into the couch pressed against his own.

Either leg was around his thigh, I knew where this could head.

The kiss was so deep it was almost like that’s what we needed; this was so passionate I hadn’t even had this with a boyfriend.

My eyes were shut, his tongue rolling against my own, I let him deepen the kiss; myself doing the same.

The area between my legs throbbed. I tried to stay as still as possible over his thigh, knowing if I moved I would regret it.

His hand drops from the collar of my shirt, moving to over my thigh, his thumb caressing over my skirt while he gripped my leg.

I pull away for air and look down at his thigh which held me, I start to stand but he stops me, pushing me back onto his hard thigh, the action made me yelp, my already sensitive clit screaming for more.

He looks at me, his lips swollen and slightly purple, I lean back in and he bites my bottom lip, sucking it while looking at me, I was internally screaming.

He pulls back and yanks my hair back, my head gets forced back while he kisses behind my ear and down my neck, one of my hands was pressed against his chest while the other kept me still on his thigh.

“Baku-” I’m interrupted my his hand pushing my thigh down harder, the only thing protecting me from his sweatpants being my underwear; which was a joke. He had to have known what this was going to do to me.

“Bakugo.” I mewl, his hand slowly releasing my hair and I look at him, he had that smug smirk on his face.

“Bakugo- I’m going to ruin your sweatpants.” I mumble, trying to stand again, he does the same thing as before, finally getting a whimper out of me.

“What if that’s what I want?” I stare at him with wide eyes, he now has both hands on my waist, his grip tight as he creates a friction between me and his thigh; I gasp.

“I thought you hated me.” I retort; he bites his bottom lip.

“I do.” He chuckles, bouncing his leg twice, my mouth drops open.

“I wish I could say the same for you though, do you hate me y/n?” His hands slowly moving me back and fourth over his thigh, I bite my lip, my face in a twisted lust.

“I do.” I pant, he raises an eyebrow.

“If I lift you off of my thigh right now, is it gonna be soaked?” I thank my skirt for covering his thigh for the time being.

“Shut up. I hate you and you fucking know it.” He smiles and attacks my lower neck with bites, i unbutton a few buttons of my shirt, ushering him to go lower, I couldn’t have everyone put two and two together.

He leaves hickies all over my boobs, his leg slightly bouncing in the process, I was a mess. I didn’t know I was this weak willed.

“Bakugo can you leave anymore bruises?” I sarcastically ask, he pulls back and whispers into my ear.

“Do you want to cum on my thigh?” I swallow hard and keep quiet.

“Well, if you keep bouncing I might have to.” I chuckle, his cheeks grow pink from my response.

He grabs me and throws his legs onto the couch, “ride my thigh.” He purrs. I lean over him, my arms thrown over his shoulders.

“I don’t want to ruin your pants.”

“Really? I want you to fucking soak them.” That’s all he really needed to say to me, I slowly grind against his thigh, he kisses my jawline and little whimpers are being thrown out of my mouth.

My shirt half unbuttoned, my hands on his chest, he watches me in amazement while I unravel against his leg.

It didn’t take long for me to come close to orgasming; breathing heavy, staring at Bakugo while he watched me grind against his leg for his own pleasure. “How close are you?” He asks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I giggle. He smiles and we start making out again, messily making out didn’t help my cause, the hot coil in my body builds up pressure before exploding, my thighs quivering, my head drops to his shoulder and I twitch, my body washed over with heat and tingles as I breathe heavy into Bakugo’s shoulder.

“That was fast.” He states.

“Don’t talk to me right now.” I pant, the pressure of his thigh making me continue twitching, I didn’t even want to see his leg right now.

“Funny for you to say that after you just used me as your toy.” I muster up energy and courage to bring my head up, my hand landing around his throat, his mouth opens into a smile. I only tighten my grip, my fingers turning white.

“And I’ll do it again. You’re a useful toy.” I tighten around his throat, he bites onto his bottom lip, his head slightly tilted back. I lift up over his thigh.

“Spit in my mouth.” My eyes widen, I send him a evil smirk, he really wanted me to do this to him? Was he serious?

“Yeah?” I ask, he sends me a ‘mhmm’.

I let spit roll off my tongue and into his mouth, his mouth open, allowing me to do this sin.

I lean back down and kiss him, this was hot. I needed to stop now before I decided to go all the way with him. I’d go back to hating him later.

*knock knock*

I gasp, jumping off him, only getting a glance at his completely soaked thigh. Buttoning my shirt so fast I even surprised myself at how fast I did it. He throws his legs off the couch, standing and walking into the bathroom. I see the spikey red haired man walk in and I smile.

“How’s studying?” He asks. I shrug.

“As good as it can be, I’ve only wanted to kill him a few times.” I wink, he laughs.

“Wheres the bastard anyways?”

“I- Uhhh, bathroom.” I answer, seconds later, Bakugo walks out with basketball shorts.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, plopping farther away from me on the couch.

“I said I’d be back later, we still have to work on our project.” Kirishima tosses his bag down onto the table.

“Why is your lip purple? Did you two fight?” He steps close to me, examining my face, I blush.

“Yeah I punched her in the face for being a dumb bitch.” Bakugo growls.

I stand and start packing up my things silently, I needed to get back to my room and look at myself in the mirror besides anyone sees me.

“I’ll be going, see you Kiri!” I quickly shout.

“Yeah! See you at dinner!” ‘Oh fuck! Dinner!’ I pound my fist into my head.

••

“No no no!” I whine into the mirror of my bathroom, my bottom lip had an uneven purple bruise; this is what I wanted to avoid. I begin unbuttoning my shirt, a plethora of purple bruises all over my chest.

“This piece of shit!” I shout; i head to my dresser, swinging it open and finding a sweatshirt, this must do for now.

••

A sweatshirt and shorts is what I walked into the cafeteria wearing; walking side to side with Momo and Mina, we all chat and get our dinner.

“Why is your lip so fucked up!” Kyoka shouts once we sit at the table; there the issue blossoms.

“Oh my god! I didn’t even notice!” Mina bellows, rubbing her finger over my chin, examining me. This is terrible.

“You’re causing a scene...” I mumble, beyond embarrassed, more of the girls were staring.

“That only happens when-”

“Hey! Shitface!” I look to my right and see Bakugo, wearing the same as when I left him.

“What the fuck do you want?” I spit, the girls fall into immediate silence.

“You left this.” He grumbles, why would he do this right now.

“Yeah right.” I snatch the paper from his gross hands and he walks away.

The girls stare at me in utter shock. They weren’t stupid, they immediately caught wind of what just happened.

“Did you two fight?!” Tsuyu shrieks.

I’m speechless, it feels as if everyone’s eyes are looking at me. Why couldn’t I get mad like usual? Where was my defense?

“Yes! Jesus! There, are you guys done?” I grit. “I’d kill him already if I wouldn’t get in trouble for it!”

Did I mean that?

I quickly shove food down my throat; not even finishing it all before I stand and quickly leave the cafeteria. I needed to get my priorities straight. What the fuck just happened to me.

[newbornwhumperfly]

some of them want to use you.

another chapter of my OCs. 

be warned, explicit sex lies beyond this border & its dub-con (only in the most technical sense of the word).

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

If someone had told Brax a few weeks ago that they’d be ushering Morja to their quarters for a fuck, they would have smiled thinly and given them latrine duty for a week. They could not have known, when they recruited an enemy assassin into their ranks, that they’d fall for him. 

Well, not...fall.

Respect him. 

Care about him. 

Really want to fuck him. 

Enough so that Brax fumbled with their key as they led Morja into the austere but comfortable quarters, dimly lit by the washroom lamp. As Morja slipped in, Brax pressed Morja against the still-ajar door, hearing it slam as his back collided. Brax ducked into Morja’s space, hands lifting to cup his face. 

His mouth was pliant and opened wide against Brax’s lips, faintly echoing Brax’s moan as their hands roamed the hard planes of Morja’s chest, stomach, explored the lower curve of his back, brushing against the swell of his ass. The man’s own hands had settled, featherlight, on Brax’s hips, now roving ever-so-slowly over Brax’s ribs. 

Needing air, Brax reeled back from kissing, brushing their nose against Morja’s, watching him. That broad, handsome face was no longer blank, focused with all his usual intensity upon Brax, as though they were the center of the world.

That look went straight to their cock.

It didn’t help in the slightest when Morja murmured, low, sonorous, his voice that was always so quiet and restrained now snagged with a breathy desire: 

“Would you...like to fuck my mouth?”

Oh.

Brax’s fingers curl, a flex of their fists as their belly clenched with the thrill of desire rolling through them. It’s been a while since anyone had gone down on them. It’s been a while in general. 

“I’d like that.”

Morja nodded, eyes twin coals, dark and burning as they raked over Brax. They felt swell of desire that Morja’s offer was so focused on Brax’s pleasure warmed them, as did the desperation of the man’s lust. God, but they craved a good fuck. 

They were so used carrying burdens, their own and others’, denying themself, again and again, of adequate care. Let alone indulgences. These days, their sexual pleasure came last. And now, this man, breathless and beautiful, was openly offering to suck them off? Brax thought they could afford to indulge. 

They felt like a teenager again, horny and shaky, almost on the edge of nerves.

Not trusting themselves to speak, they let the backs of their legs hit the bed and sank down, spreading their knees. Morja had practically collapsed at Brax’s feet, between their thighs in a moment. His broad torso was a tight fit between Brax’s stout thighs, but Morja made his fall seem gracefully intentional.

God, Morja looked so stunning like this. So composed, so purposeful, even in his plain eagerness. Rough and knobby as his hands were with their myriad breaks and scars, they ghosted gently over Brax’s inner seam, making quick, careful work of the fastenings.

It was sweet and strange to see such diffidence in a passionate setting, Morja’s familiar behavior sharpening the heat of the moment until Brax needed Morja’s mouth on them now, right now.

As Brax’s leaking cock sprang free of its trappings, Morja brushed his knuckles along Brax’s thighs and paused, hesitance creasing his broad brow as he hovered. 

What was he waiting for? Permission? 

They ventured a firm, “Don’t wait up”, the steely, heated urgency of his voice sending a clear shiver through Morja.

They knew plenty of people enjoyed sexual submission - nothing wrong with that at all, obviously. Brax maintained strict control in all aspects of their life - the bedroom was not much different. They thrived as a guide, a firm and steady hand, and they certainly appreciate deference at the moment, as their commanding tone seemed to set Morja upon Brax’s cock with shocking eagerness.

Fuck.

Fucking Christ. 

Morja was…very good. 

Brax shivered from toe to scalp as Morja’s mouth engulfed them all at once, their length sliding down that warm throat so swiftly that Brax seized up, grabbing onto Morja’s head to steady themself. They almost apologized for the clumsy gesture but the man seemed to be invigorated by the touch.

Brax’s hips canted up into Morja’s face, the man now almost gagging himself on Brax’s cock as though he didn’t need oxygen like other mortals - like all he needed was Brax’s cock thrusting down his open, eager throat. 

It was astonishing that Morja had this effect on him. They didn’t tend to talk a lot during sex (wasn’t one of those vocal types) but right now they felt speechless, staring down at Morja’s dark eyes, lit up with a clear eagerness that defied their usual suppression.

Brax could hardly believe that they made Morja lose control like this, made him so excited, feverish with desire? They’re harder than they’ve been in years from merely getting blown and they don’t trust themselves to speak without betraying their desperate state of arousal.

Brax wanted to hold back, to make this first time linger, but at this rate they were going to climax like a virgin.

They were at that age where they knew what they liked and they’d long since stopped justifying their sexual tastes. They knew they’d be classed as boring and somewhat un-fancy, but that was what they liked. They like their pleasures quick and simple and efficient. They hadn’t had many complaints for certain.

They fisted Morja’s hair at a trick of the quick wet tongue and the pace Morja was setting yanked those black curls at the contact. It did not seem to deter Morja. 

If anything, it invigorated him further. 

Huh.

Well, Brax mused listlessly, he wasn’t really one for rough stuff but, again, not his place to judge. People like what they like. They have a brief flash of Morja at the card game, spaced out and breathless after Jorah’s aggressive kiss, blood glinting berry-red on his lip, eyes as bright at they are now.

There was something to Morja’s fervor to please, his unrelenting drive, his hyper focus and dedication to whatever he did (including, at this moment, trying to suck Brax’s soul out through his cock) which provoked an unusual urge to tenderness within Brax.

They did not relinquish their grip on Morja’s hair, so soft, so damp with sweat, sweat rolling down Morja’s neck and jaw, beads glinting even in the pale dark of the unlit room. But they did place a loose hand on the back of Morja’s head, no pressure, no force, just a solid presence and rubbed their thumb appreciatively over the shaven expanse at the base of his skull.

God, but what Morja was doing with his mouth should be fucking illegal. It was perfect, perfect, perfect.

They were going to cum soon, especially with how nearly frantic Morja’s ministrations has become. And the low, barely perceptible noise he made as Brax’s cock hit the back of his throat? It would steal the very breath of a stronger person than Brax. That little gargle, that little whimper of need, a keen of clear desperate arousal made Brax hum louder than he intended, rough and rasped like a primitive growl. They’d usually be embarrassed and annoyed to have revealed that loss of control in the bedroom but Brax supposed it was fair.

If they could clearly cause Morja to become this drunk on arousal, heedless and hot, it was fitting that Morja should see them a little unhinged.

They gave Morja’s hair a gentle tug to signal him to slide off their cock but it did nothing.

“S-stop, I’m gonna-“

No sooner had they bitten out that first word then Morja sat back on his heels with shocking alacrity, freeing Brax’s cock from that glorious silky wet heat. It warmed Brax’s heart to see someone who was clearly so drunk on desire still be so receptive to consent. 

Morja was a good man. So good. So good with his mouth. 

But Brax has no fondness for spilling down someone’s throat and won’t spend on anyone’s face unless they explicitly ask.

Sunk onto his heels, panting soft yet ragged and barely quivering, Morja fixed his gaze to the carpet, obviously trying to gain control over himself. He watched Brax take their cock in hand and licked his lips, tilting forward urgently.

“Please, please, I can--“

He was so sweet but Brax liked what they liked and shushed the eager man by sliding their thumb over his lips as they untangled their fingers from his hair.

“Gonna...finish myself - ok?”

If Morja was offended or annoyed, it didn’t show. He seemed too dazed to properly hear it.

Brax canted to one side to quietly and closed their eyes as they stroked themself to completion. This method took longer than when fucking (God, they were getting old already) but the immediate sense memory of Morja’s throat had them spilling sooner than usual, coaxing a low shuddering groan from their lips while stars spun behind their lids.

God, what was Morja doing to them?

What had he done to them already?

Brax breathed evenly as possible, trying to regain some control over their heaving chest and trembling hands. Heaving onto their side, every inch of skin softened from the release, they swiveled back towards Morja, still kneeling and now more rigid than before, having risen off his heels.

Brax was no pillow princess and had a reputation as a more than equal giver in the bedroom. 

And after a fuck like...that? 

They wanted to make Morja fucking cry with pleasure. 

They wanted see those thick arms quiver with anticipation as they gripped the headboard and that delectable sweat trickle down his whole broad body, bright focused dark eyes haze and roll with delight, his perfect mouth open and that glorious self-control slip as he moaned and writhed.

Their shifting knee brushed against Morja’s crotch, feeling it’s softness.

Did...did he cum just from sucking Brax off? A warmth, lower and more primal than before, rolled through Brax’s gut. They had to take another steadying breath. If they were a younger, less particular person, the flattery of that fact alone would have them hardening again. 

Quirking an eyebrow, Brax was unable to suppress their slight twinge of disappointment that they were not able to make Morja cum by their own ministrations tonight.

The man was now watching their face, upturned eyes bright and keen, throat clicking.

Yet the hour was already late. 

As much as they might aim for an uncharacteristic repeat performance, it was clear that Morja was tired. He’d been tired even before he had thrown himself at Brax, his body’s square angles struggling to hold themselves in alignment. Grey smudges, stark even against the golden hue of the man’s flesh, conveyed that he likely didn't sleep enough as it was.

Brax themself was pleasantly yet undeniably exhausted, the shock of their orgasm having leeched all the cricks and cramps from their coiled muscles.

So, as Morja fingered the hem of their undershirt, Brax stopped him with a hand on his elbow.

“I’m very tired,” Brax confessed softly, warmed at the little quiver which rolled through Morja’s arm at their words. Wearing out the tireless Brax with a simple sex act? Indeed. They were also surprised. “Another time? When I’ve got some energy in me that is.”

A lesser man would be peeved or even pouty, not that Brax much expected that sort of childishness from the gracious Morja and was not proven wrong when all the man did was nod slowly in agreement, eyes heavy and watchful and warm. 

He really was so sweet. 

Smiling, wide and soft, they ducked forward to rob a kiss from Morja’s pliant, wet, swollen (God) mouth, pressing as much lingering lust as they could into his lips. Morja shivered, nearly imperceptible, beneath their touch, stirring embers in Brax’s blood as they gently stroked his moist cheek with their thumb. 

Brax placed so little weight on “first times” yet here they were getting sappy from a fucking blowjob, he really must be tired. Or it had just been a really good blowjob.

Fuck, they wish they were younger and less tired.

Gliding their fingers a final time through that damp, dark, lovely hair, Brax heaved to their feet as Morja scooted back and out of the way - stayed kneeling, probably knowing it wasn’t wise to stand too quickly.

“Well…I’m taking a shower, so, thank you, Morja.”

Why were they being weird about this? They were a goddamn, professional adult and this was just sex. Not with just anybody, of course, Morja was…important, but it was still just sex. 

Nothing to fuss over. 

Brax bid a hushed good night as they stepped over Morja’s knees on their way to the washroom.

“H-How…”

Brax paused to glance back at Morja, who had risen to his feet in his typical, at-attention, pose. 

Guess the mood was officially gone. 

He seemed trying to ask, to inquire, but failing to form the words. Maybe he was trying to thank Brax back? Maybe the deep-throating had left him a little voiceless.

Suppressing a shudder at the thought, Brax took pity on him and answered the most likely unspoken question.

“We can do this again, if that’s what you were wondering. If...that’s what you want?”

Brax found themself suddenly uncertain, but their twinge of nerves was quickly dispelled by Morja’s quick nod, naked gratitude washing over his face like light over rock. Brax’s sympathy sharpened. They shouldn’t be so easily fooled by that stony exterior - Morja was likely feeling a bit off-balance about this...whole thing, just as uncertain as Brax was. 

No - far more so. 

It was so hard for him to ask for even the most basic shit, seeming to expect less than nothing from anyone. It was awful and tragic and made Brax ache to spoil him.

They smiled at Morja, allowing themself to soften more than they otherwise  might.

“Get some sleep. Next time, I promise I’ll pay better attention to you, ok?”

Even if they were reassuring, they could still leave a partner wanting more next time. They weren’t that far gone. With that encouraging tease lingering in the air, Brax smiled again and slipped into their private shower, oddly, unusually, content. 

As they sagged against the steel wall as hot water pleasantly thundered over them, Brax smiled fully to themself at their promise to Morja, not a little thrilled by the way it (and the clear anticipation of desire) had made the man stop breathing.

Next time, Brax swore to themself, they would try and mirror Morja’s focus in order to repay him.

He certainly deserved it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

i am gonna hide under a rock forever now, bye.

[sadprose-auroras]

‘About Time’ - Roger TaylorxFem!Reader (Part 1)

A/N: Hello my darlings! I can’t decide if I hate this or not, and I’m not sure if I’ll continue writing this, depends on the response. Please let me know if you want me to continue it (it would probably require way more parts, like a full on series). Hope you enjoy! - Also, this can apply to Ben Hardy’s portrayal of Roger. Whatever you prefer!

(This was totally inspired by a couple time travel fics I read a few weeks ago, I can’t remember the authors or the names but all credits to them for the time travel idea…. LOVE. IT. I just HAD to write my own, crappier version)

Find my other works here!

 You sunk to the floor, your knees giving out beneath you. You felt ridiculous, curling up in a ball, in your wardrobe, but you had reached your breaking point; everything had suddenly hit you. As you hugged your knees, sobbing, your jeans became tear-soaked. Your mind wandered, as your cheeks flamed in embarrassment and shame about your current state, despite nobody being around. How did you get here? A few months ago, your life was great. You had a great job, a great circle of friends and boyfriend, and you were pursuing your passion; studying fashion design. Then, everything began to crumble around you. All your friends turned on you, you got fired, and your studies began to slip as a result, causing you to fail an exam.  

 If all that wasn’t bad enough, you found out your boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you for a year and 11 months. Go figure. It was as if the universe was playing some long, cruel joke on you, just to see how long before you gave up on trying to pursue any kind of happiness. Just as you came to the conclusion that you really had nothing to fight for, leaning your head back on the wall behind you and closing your eyes, the strangest feeling overcame you. Your head began to spin, and pins and needles covered your entire body. You tried to open your eyes, to move your body, but you were frozen. Your heart rate increased rapidly, and you began to think that this was really it. Whatever was happening, you were going to die. Strangely enough, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.  

 By some miracle, everything stopped. The pins and needles ceased, and, save a throbbing headache, you felt much better. You experimentally wiggled your toes, and you had feeling back again. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, looking around you. It was dark, but you could make out the shapes of the clothes hanging around you. Oddly, you didn’t recognise any of them. The chair that was next to you when you closed your eyes was gone, replaced by a shoe rack.  

You stood up, closed your eyes again and rubbed your temples, trying to rid of the probable hallucinations. You racked your brain, thinking back to when you studied psychosis in high school. You couldn’t remember a thing. Was temporary paralysis a symptom? 

 You decided you needed to call a doctor. You pulled your iPhone out of your pocket, still in the dark, and opened up safari. You had no wifi, and no reception. Frowning, you opened the wardrobe door, the knob feeling unfamiliar, to be greeted by a figure doing the same. The door swung open suddenly, bouncing on its hinges.

 You both screamed loudly, and, without looking at the figure in front of you, you tried to push past to get away, however, a hand gripped you and pulled you back. 

 Your eyes became fixed on the man in front of you. You frowned, unable to tear your eyes off him. The hallucinations were getting worse; you were conjuring up images of people in your home. Hang on. You knew his face all too well; you had spent hours watching him drum and sing at concerts on YouTube. It couldn’t be, could it?

 “Who are you, and what the hell are you doing in my wardrobe!?” he asked, releasing his grip on you. You winced, rubbing where his fingernails had dug into you. This was all too much.

 “I should be asking you the same thing, why are you in my house? What’s going on?” you looked around the room, expecting to see your familiar bedroom; your posters plastered around the walls, your colourful duvet, and your plush white carpet. Instead, the walls were empty, the duvet was blue, and the carpet was grey.

 “I need to sit down,” you said, overwhelmed, perching on the edge of the unfamiliar bed. You glanced up at the man in front of you, his expression still shocked and wide-eyed, as he looked you up and down, his brows furrowing. 

 “God, you seem so real,” you laughed. “But there’s no way.”“What the fuck do you mean?” he replied. “I know I’m real, but I can’t say the same about you. I’ve never known anyone who can just appear out of thin air,” he shook his head in disbelief. 

 You frowned, rubbing your hands through your hair. “What do you mean, I appeared out of thin air?” your stomach began to sink. For reasons you couldn’t explain, something else was going on. Something much weirder than you initially thought.

 “Well, I don’t see how you could have got into my wardrobe without me seeing. I’ve been in my room for 20 minutes.” You glanced at his legs, frowning. What kind of person wears flared jeans anymore? 

 “I, um,” you began, a laugh escaping your lips despite yourself. This was all too ridiculous. You were actively avoiding eye contact with him. You figured if you acknowledged that it was him, at that age, in front of you, this would all go away. It was impossible. Suddenly, it all came together, as shocking as it was. It wasn’t him that was in the wrong place, it was you. This wasn’t your house. You had no wifi or reception. And, Roger Taylor, looking as he did circa 1972, was right in front of you. Had you time travelled? Your head span at the possibility. What else could explain these strange occurrences? 

 “What year is it?” you asked, this time properly meeting his eyes this time. Photos didn’t do the real thing justice; his baby blue eyes were maintaining steady eye contact with you, his lips were slightly parted, and his hair looked so soft and angelic. He was insanely beautiful. You internally cursed yourself. Now was definitely not the time.  

“1972…” he said, becoming even more confused. Your theory was confirmed. You’d watched all of the Back to the Future movies countless times, but you’d never imagined anything like that could ever really happen. Especially to you; plain, boring, old you. 

 “I know you’re probably not inclined to believe the crazy girl from your wardrobe, but I think,” you bit your lip, concerned at how he would take the news. “I think I’m from the future.” 

----------

 “So, you’re telling me you didn’t do anything for this to actually happen?” Roger asked. After trying to explain to him a million times, that yes, you were in fact just as confused as him, and no, you didn’t climb through his window, you tried to remain patient. He had every right to be confused as hell, you would definitely react the same if you were in his shoes. Despite this though, he was oddly trusting, allowing you to remain in his house and actually giving you the time of day to explain your side of the story. He even offered you a glass of water and something to eat, which you accepted gratefully. You were starving. 

 “Yes, I was literally just in my wardrobe, then the next thing I knew we were screaming in each other’s faces.” 

 “How do I know you’re telling the truth? You don’t seem very sane so far. I’m going to need some proof. You could just be a crazy girl who will do anything to sleep with me,” he smirked. You rolled your eyes. So the stories were true, he really was cocky.

 “Don’t flatter yourself, Taylor,” you retorted. “And no,” you said quickly, as he opened his mouth to speak, “I don’t know your surname because I’m a crazy stalker.” Your mind wandered to your extensive Queen record and CD collection. Okay, so maybe you were a little, but he didn’t need to know that. 

 “I know because Queen makes it big. I mean, massive.” You bit your lip nervously. If Back to the Future taught you anything, nobody should know too much about their own future. For the first time in your life, you had to think about what you said before you said it.

“How can I convince you?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “What year do you claim to come from, anyway?”

“2019,” you bit your lip. 

His eyes widened in disbelief. “Shit,” he mumbled. “Am I….?”

 “Still alive? Yeah.” Suddenly, you had an idea. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, thankful it was still charged. You turned it on, the time and date you had left still displayed on the screen (18th January 2019, 11:00), in front of a picture of Queen from 1975. You turned the screen towards him. 

 “Holy shit, is that me?” he gasped, leaning forward. “2019.” He looked up at you, and you shrugged and nodded. You were thankful he didn’t know the implications of having a picture of somebody as your lockscreen. 

 “There’s something else,” you unlocked your phone, opening music and searching for ‘Doing Alright.’ You pressed play, the song pouring out of the speakers.

Yesterday, my life was in ruin

Now today, I know what I’m doing… 

“Oh my god, that’s our song! We haven’t even released it yet.” He chuckled. You couldn’t help but grin at his excitement, encapsulated by his gorgeous smile. 

 “Wanna hear more?” you smirked. It’s funny, you had never felt so comfortable around somebody so quickly. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something about him relaxed you. 

----------

 “Have you noticed I haven’t asked about that thing you’re holding, ‘cause I’m too scared to?”

 You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand. You’d spent the last half an hour playing Roger a few more Queen songs. A small nagging voice in the back of your mind was telling you to stop, to not reveal anything about his future, no matter how small. But Roger’s pleading to hear more won.

 “It’s actually a phone,” you said, to answer his question. “Well, that’s its main purpose anyway. You can use it to take and store pictures, play music, and use the internet. Which, well, you’ll find out about in approximately 18 years.”

 “I’m intrigued, what’s the internet?” he asked. You thought of all the unspeakable things you had come across on social media, and shook your head.“You don’t want to know.” He raised an eyebrow at you, and you tried to suppress a blush.  

You cleared your throat, averting your eyes from him as you straightened up in your seat. “What’s the time?” you asked. He glanced down at his watch. “3am,” he laughed in disbelief. “We should probably get some sleep. I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

 You shook your head rapidly, taken aback by his utter kindness. ��Oh my god no, please, I will. It’s your house,” you said, getting up from the chair you were sitting on. He did the same. You both stood awkwardly, basically staring at each other. You couldn’t help but think of the times you watched a Queen documentary on TV, with the Roger of your time’s commentary. It was hard to believe the man in front of you was the same person.  

 He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes off you, and going into his bedroom, mumbling something about getting something for you to sleep in.  

 As you awaited his return, you couldn’t help but wonder why you were so focused on how flustered you were around Roger, and not worried about the fact that you were literally stuck in the wrong year, and had no idea how to get back. The funny thing was, you had no desire to. You hadn’t felt so at home in a long time, than when you were laughing and talking with Roger. He made you feel so safe, so quickly. And that feeling would only grow stronger when you both gave up on convincing the other to sleep on the couch, and ended up sharing his bed. 

PART 2: BONUS CONTENT THAT I WROTE THE SAME DAY AS PART ONE. I’M NOT GOING TO CONTINUE IT BUT WHAT’S THE POINT OF HAVING IT IN A WORD DOC N NOT POSTING IT?

When I was writing this, I couldn’t stop imagining rom-com moments. Like, the outfit section? A cute montage with a cute song. Damn I wish I could express the images in my head more clearly, in words. My writing sucks. 

“Y/N, wake up. Y/N!!” A familiar, yet foreign, voice startled you. As you came to your senses, you realised your usual soft, silky sheets were replaced with cotton ones, and an unusual smell wafted around you. You slowly opened your eyes, to be greeted by Roger leaning over you, a slightly annoyed look on his face. Fuck. It was real. He must’ve read your disappointment on your face, and he smiled sympathetically and nodded.

“Yep, you’re still here,” he mumbled. You couldn’t help but sigh; you’d hoped it was a really long, unusual dream.

“I have to go to rehearsal for a gig tonight. Do you wanna come?” Of course you didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to meet the rest of the band, and literally see the magic happen, you couldn’t help but feel like you were invading. But then again, who could say they had the chance to sit in on an early Queen rehearsal, especially knowing how successful and impactful they were going to become?

“I don’t – I don’t want to intrude,” you mumbled, sitting up in the bed and clutching the duvet around you, suddenly feeling exposed in Roger’s white shirt.

“Well it’s your choice, I understand that you probably don’t want to sit around with us when you could be finding a way back home or finding your parents or something,” he said.

Although you would never admit it, you wanted nothing more than to go with him. Not only was it literally history in the making, but the absence of your birth parents in your life, leading to a childhood of foster families who couldn’t care less about you, gave you a sense of independence at a young age. You knew how to be alone, seeking solace in music. Music created by the greats like Queen made you feel less alone, as silly as it sounded. It was your escape from the struggles in your real life.

“Wait, no. I want to come. If you don’t mind. But I need something 70s appropriate to wear,” you chuckled, glancing over at your high-waisted skinny jeans and cropped knit jumper folded neatly on a chair.

“I think that can be arranged.” Roger grinned at you, and you were struck with yet another wave of disbelief. Roger Taylor was going to lend you come of his iconic clothes.

After spending a couple of hours going through Roger’s clothes, which was your absolute dream, you finally settled on a pair of pants that were a little too short, and a shirt that was slightly too tight across the chest. You tried to spice up the outfit with a few of Roger’s necklaces, much to his dismay.

“Do I look okay?” you asked when you stepped out, twirling around with your arms out.

Roger, standing with a pile of clothes in his arms that you had rejected, furrowed his brows and looked you up and down. You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at the sight; he was taking his job as your stylist very seriously.

“You’ll almost fit in,” he said, “although, the shirt is too tight,” he finished bluntly, gesturing to your chest. You folded your arms instinctively.

“Don’t worry, I won’t look at your boobs.” You frowned at this. Was that meant to make you feel better? Why did you feel slightly disappointed?

“Um, thanks?” you scoffed. “What should I do with my hair?” you tugged on each of your French braids. Roger walked towards you without warning, and pulled out your hair ties, running his fingers through your hair.

“Just leave it loose.” He said hoarsely, his face dangerously close to yours. Your heart was beating rapidly, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He was biting his lip in concentration, his eyes squinting as he adjusted your hair. It took everything in you to not lean into his touch; his fingers were so delicate. As he pushed a strand of hair out of your face, his eyes met yours.

“Perfect,” he almost whispered, his breath sending shivers down your spine. You knew you should pull away. You knew this would get way too complicated. Your rationality was telling you to snap out of it. But as his hands smoothly came to rest around your neck, bringing you closer, something else entirely was driving your actions.  Just as you began to lean in, he pulled away, clearing his throat loudly.

“Let me get you a coat,” he said, quickly rushing away from you. You bit your lip, cheeks flaming. You were humiliated. What were you thinking, trying to kiss him? He obviously wasn’t attracted to you; the weird, pathetic crazy time-traveller. You didn’t even belong here anyway, how could you possibly think he would want you? Your eyes began to well up, you just had to get out of there.

As you quickly began to gather your clothes and phone, furiously wiping the tears from your eyes, Roger returned with a fur coat in his arms.

“Here, this should fit – wait, what’s wrong?” he asked, realising your state.

“I’m just gonna go. I’m so sorry to have invaded your life like this, you shouldn’t have to deal with my weird ass problems. Thank you for everything. It was nice meeting you, I guess. I’ll never forget you,” you rambled, becoming increasingly embarrassed, trying to walk past him. He gently placed his hands on your upper arms, turning you to face him.

“Hey, hey, I don’t have to help you, okay? I want to. If you’ll let me.” he said, a surprisingly vulnerable look on his face.

“But, I’m burdening you too much! You can’t have me holding you back from living your normal life. You don’t want me clinging to your side like some kind of….” You paused, struggling to find the right words in your frazzled state. “Some kind of leech. I mean, I’m just annoying. For God’s sake, we have nothing in common! I’m technically young enough to be your daughter!”

Roger laughed softly. “Okay, first of all, you’re not a leech. And yes, it’s weird that you’re from the future, and I’ll probably never wrap my head around it, but so what? We shouldn’t get along, but we do.” You hoped he couldn’t notice your blush at this.

“And, lastly,” he said, a cheeky smirk on his face, “the thought of you being my daughter is gross, but me being your daddy on the other hand…”

“Oh my god, Roger! No!” you couldn’t help but laugh, as you rapidly shook your head. You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not; you secretly hoped he wasn’t.

“So, do you still wanna come to rehearsal?” he asked, all joking aside.

You sighed, hoping you weren’t being a burden. “Okay, give me that then,” you grabbed the coat off him, pulling it on.

“Do I look normal?” you asked.

“No,” he smirked, and you raised your eyebrows at him. “In a good way, though. Come on,” he said, grabbing your hand. You tried to ignore the jolts of electricity you felt from this sweet gesture. You never thought simply holding hands with someone would give you so many butterflies.

[insession-io]

Having ‘The Talk’ with Your Teen

Is there a parent on the planet who doesn’t have at least a tiny bit of trepidation having “the talk” with their offspring about how they came to be and the importance of responsible engagement in sexual activity? Even the most sophisticated and sexually savvy person might question their ability to impart wise guidance on this essential topic, so sadly, many don’t.

In my therapy practice, the subject arises from time to time and I ask my clients what they were taught, by whom and whether it was an awkward or comfortable exchange. On extremely rare occasions, did they relate that they learned about the metaphorical “birds and bees” at an early age, explained in a way that they could comprehend. This is so across the board with both adult and adolescent clients.

What happens when healthy sex education is left lacking? Shame, misunderstanding, high-risk sexual behaviors, early experimentation, teen pregnancy and STD’s. There are some who would advise that education begin by kindergarten.

As a child of the 60’s, sex education in school took the form of boys in one room and girls in another as a gym teacher read from a book and showed a black and white film about biology and body parts, our periods, how to prevent pregnancy and what was then referred to as VD (Venereal Disease). I can’t vouch for what the boys heard, but that was the extent of our training on the topic.

I recall a commercial on television that sang, “I got it from Sandy, who got it from Paul. Paul got it from Ernestine who could’ve got it anywhere at all. And with my love, I gave it to you. Now that we’ve got it, what’re we gonna do? VD is for everybody.”

Nowhere in the mix was talk about feelings, how to recognize desire and what to do about it. Abstinence education simply didn’t work. Most of my peers experimented with sexual interactions in our teens. Even in my home where my mom (my dad was far too embarrassed to broach the subject with my sister and me), left the door open for conversation about sex, that aspect was not covered.

When I was 10, she handed me a book by the sanitary napkin company Modess, asked me to read it and come to her with any questions. I did and still felt like there was more that I could have asked but didn’t. I’m not sure how I learned, except to follow my own instincts about how to set boundaries with boyfriends throughout adolescence. I remember coming home from a date with a high school boyfriend with a lovely glowing bruise on the side of my neck and my mother’s response was, “I think P. is getting a bit too passionate.” Nothing more was said about it. When she walked in on me when I was in an about to be revealing and compromising position, with the young man I was seeing between high school and college, (fortunately the light was out in the room), she said, “It’s time for S. to go home now.” Again, no further conversation ensued. As I look back on those two incidents, I imagine she either felt she was in over her head, or she trusted that I would figure it out on my own. I wish she had the vocabulary, or ability to have that discussion. My desire for emotional intimacy gave way to physical intimacy that I didn’t understand and couldn’t always control. Clearly, I was not alone in my struggle.

When my son was young, and my husband was still alive, he had ‘the talk’ with Adam. He was around eight at the time and had begun inquiring. Although Michael was reluctant, I reminded him that if our child was asking, he wasn’t too young and if he didn’t talk about it, I would. He died when our son was 11, so I revisited the subject and told Adam that he could ask me anything he wanted to, and I would answer honestly, but that I couldn’t tell him what it was like to be a man. I chose a few trusted male friends as his guides since they shared my values about sex, relationships and women. One became his go-to guy for nearly everything and eventually, Phil was more than a mentor, but became a man that Adam considered a surrogate father.

When Adam was 14, we had what I refer to as, “the three-part sex talk”.

Respect yourself and your partner(s) Safer sex practices I’m too young to be a grandmother

It became a standard conversation over the years as he began new relationships. By the time he was in a relationship with a young woman who had a then 3-year-old little boy, he acknowledged the first two, but laughingly reminded me, “Mom, you’re not too young to be a grandmother anymore.”

I feel gratified that he has been respectful of the women in his life. I recall that when he was a tween, we had the “no means no” conversation. I reminded him that it applied to him as well. If a partner wanted to touch him and he didn’t want it, he had the right to decline, since boys are not often given that permission to maintain body boundaries.

Ideas for making the conversation easier:

Educate yourself first. There are numerous books for tweens and a range from childhood through adolescence.  

Practice conversations in the mirror, writing down a script if necessary. Remember what you were taught and determine that you will use what was helpful and discard anything that was detrimental.

Share information at an appropriate comprehension level for your child.

Although many young people are more sophisticated than previous generations, there is still confusion. Clarify any misunderstanding. Sometimes, to save face, a teen will claim to know more than they do. Children are sometimes exposed early on to on line pornography which can be damaging to their development.

Speak to them about the dangers of sexting, or posting anything compromising on social media.

Get past your embarrassment or at least admit to your child that you are experiencing it. That honesty is part of the intimacy of any relationship and models what you want him or her to have.

Speak about the idea that sex is about more than “get it on, get it up, get it in, get it off, get it out”.  Nor is it about just what goes on below the belly button. It is about people relating from the heart, head and body.

Encourage open communication between your child and potential partner(s) throughout their lives.

Speak to them about touch by consent. With the proliferation of #metoo stories from both men and women, it is essential. If they want to touch someone, ask first and receive a verbal yes, then touch is welcome. If, instead, the response is no, or uncertainty, then it is unwelcome. A wonderful video explains it well that relates tea with consent. Remind them that no one has the right to touch another without their explicit permission, regardless of level of desire, expectation or nature of the relationship.

Don’t make an assumption about your child’s sexual orientation. Even if it is uncomfortable and perhaps not in keeping with your expectations and/or religious orientation, be open to the idea that they have the inherent right to experience love with the partner of their choice, regardless of gender. PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) is a valuable resource for education and support.

By Edie Weinstein, MSW, LSW

Jennifer Josey LPC LMFT CSAT of Intuitive Pathways Recovery specializes in Sex Addiction Counseling Houston Texas, love addiction, recovery for couples from sex and love addiction, trauma resolution for partners of sex addicts and group therapy. Sexual addiction is a serious problem that affects people of all socioeconomic status, educational status, both males and females and even teenagers and preadolescent children.