#and not every sex repulsed person is ace

[byooregard]

people are always asking things like "what are ace people spending all their time doing if not thinking about sex" and the answer is that i am in fact thinking about sex just intellectually. its a really fascinating topic tbh

[thedistortionshallways]

People who genuinely believe all asexuals are sex repulsed and can't even stand to think about the act are frustrating but also funny because bro who do you think is writing your well written 30k kinktober fic that leaves you gobsmacked because of how explicit it is lmao, anyways happy October 3rd yall and god bless the many many aces who write fanfiction

[eclaire-went-bam]

although i think it's important to acknowledge the complexities of aro & ace identities, & to be welcoming of aroace identities that may be sex/romance favourable/hypersexual & seek those relationships, i think it's still important to acknowledge that completely romance/sex repulsed aroaces are still a minority in the ace community despite being the stereotype. & we should still listen to those voices,

[sapphireclaw]

Quick reminder that ace people can and do have sex and have kinks and still be ace. Asexuality is defined by a lack of sexual attraction, not the lack of having sex. thanks for coming to my Ted talk

[14th-century-verona-queer]

Question-

Do any other ace people forget that people are like…having sex?

Like sometimes im just shocked with the realization like “omg there are so many people that are like…interested in having sex.”

I’m personally like forgetful as fuck an I genuinely wake up every day with the realization “oh yea I’m queer!!” (Im being so deadass about that btw)

But yea like every time an allosexual friend is like “omg she’s so hot i would let her fucking RAIL me” (not like asexuals cant make sex jokes i quite genuinely do it all the time) but like….they MEAN it, ykwim?

LIKE THEY WOULD GENUINELY LET THAT HAPPEN AND THEY GENUINELY MEAN THAT THEY WANT THAT TO HAPPEN AND IT JUST-CONFUSES THE FUCK OUT OF ME

(To be clear, i am sex-repulsed, so idk if that has smth to do with it lol)

[hazelfoureyes]

I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」

minors dni 💅🏽

Part 1 Pretty in Red

The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.

And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.

Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.

That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.

And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late. 

Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.

So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.

You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.

Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”

As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”

People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence. 

You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.

Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.

Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth. 

“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash. 

You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off. 

You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.

Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.

He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim. 

He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!” shouted at you.

Yes, it was obvious to him now. 

So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow. 

The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.

He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.

“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of. 

“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”

You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter. 

“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.

“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”

Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.

With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.

“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you. 

No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.

You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.” 

Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.

No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better. 

“Well I think that’s quite enough.”

You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.

Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.

When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so. 

“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”

Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up. 

Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.

“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.

“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.

“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”

You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his. 

As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror. 

Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks. 

“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”

You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”

Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.

His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.

Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean. 

His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile. 

He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.

You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.

As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely. 

You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.

You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?

Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek. 

You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon. 

“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”

He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”

“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?” 

“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”

“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”

You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.

You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.

Good, you thought, and went about your work.

Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before. 

“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.

“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.

When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.

You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.

Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.

But would that really be so bad?  Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.

One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.

Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star. 

A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes. 

“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.

“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”

She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”

“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.” 

She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.” 

An understatement.

You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers. 

Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.

From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man. 

Ah, right. There was no body.

That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.

Well, worst case you die. 

You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.

You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.

Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.

You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying. 

Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.

“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.

“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy. 

When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving. 

Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”

You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously.  He nodded.

It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”

He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there. 

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”

Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”

“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”

Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”

You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat. 

You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.

It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.

Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?

All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.

He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.

Back against the large tree, you could only pout.

“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.

You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”

Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.

He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.

Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead. 

Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—

You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.

It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps. 

His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.

Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.

It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.

Is that right? You wanted him to touch you? 

Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.

His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.

No. Maybe. You nodded yes.

“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”

No. Probably not. Another nod.

His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.

“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?

“A common problem for those I take an interest in.” 

Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning. 

Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.

“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.  

Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.

Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.

The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.

Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move. 

You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.

Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?

Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. “It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”

“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch. 

A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.

“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.

He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”

Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”

Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”

“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.

“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”

“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm. 

“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”

A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you. 

Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone.  You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.

With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean. 

Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?

“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”

“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”

You bit your lip. “Touché.”

He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.

Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

[what-if-i-just-did]

wait I'm confused

how can an asexual love sex

please help

TWs: Discussion of sex in relation to asexuals, non-graphic mentions of sex, hunger/food as a metaphor

Course! Look at it like this...

Everyone on earth experiences hunger, right? Well, say you don't get hungry. You can still enjoy food! If it tastes good, or if it was made by someone you love. Maybe if it looks good, you'll have a taste, just to see. You can eat any food you want.

Sometimes you're thirsty, or your stomach hurts, and you wonder if it's hunger, but it isn't, not really. There are more reasons to eat than just being hungry.

It's just like that! Well, almost, because you don't die from a lack of sex, but it's close. Asexual just means you don't experience sexual attraction- but there's multiple forms of attraction!

There's sensual attraction, wanting to touch something. A lot of asexuals confuse this with sexual attraction sometimes, and sometimes sensual attraction can be so strong you want to climb into someone's ribcage, be inside of them, in which case sex is as close as you'll get.

There's visual attraction, wanting to look at something. This is also confused for sexual attraction sometimes, cuz I'll look at someone and think "hot", but hot, to me, doesn't particularly mean I wanna have sex with them. Hot is just a type of pretty. I get the same visual attraction looking at a pretty human as when I look at a sunset or a pretty flower.

There's platonic attraction, which is wanting to be friends with someone. There's romantic attraction, which is wanting to date them. There's queerplatonic attraction, which is wanting a qpr with someone. I can't remember if there's other forms of attraction rn, but you get the picture.

So just because we're not sexually attracted to people doesn't mean we can't enjoy or wanna have sex. Sex with someone you love can be really intimate. The physical sensations are pleasurable and enjoyable. Or some aces might just have sex for the aesthetic, or might not care about sex at all but do it cuz their partner wants it.

More importantly, asexuality is a spectrum, so not everyone that's asexual has the same experiences. There are LOADS of identities under the ace umbrella that will feel sexual attraction in specific scenarios or NOT in specific scenarios or have it fluctuate or anything like that. Some aces don't like to think about anything sexual. Some don't mind, but just don't want it to have anything to do with themself. Some will masturbate or fantasize about crushes in sexual ways but without thinking of themself. Some will masturbate while thinking about themself but not want to actually do anything like that. Some are willing to have sex but don't particularly care. Some enjoy sex. Some want sex.

I, personally, love sex. The physical sensations are exhilarating orgasms are fun. I masturbate a lot. It satisfies my sensual attraction, but so would (naked) snuggles. It's also just a fun thing to do with your partner, but I don't think of it much differently from any other fun thing you can do with a partner. I've had sexual-romantic relationships, I've had friends with benefits, I haven't had a one-night stand but I would go for it if the oppertunity came up. I know a lot of other ace people wouldn't.

This definetly does not go for all ace people though. Some are very sex-repulsed.

TL:DR Ace people don't experience sexual attraction but can still enjoy sex for other reasons such as intimacy, sensual attraction, physical sensations, or entertainment. This does not go for every ace person.

[salty-dracon]

I made this meme a while ago in response to the climate of the asexual communities on Reddit, specifically the meme subreddit r/aaaaaaacccccccce, which was constantly warring between "too many sex-repulsed memes" and "too many sex-favorable" memes.

Asexuality by definition is experiencing little to no sexual attraction to other people regardless of gender. It is considered an umbrella of sexualities. Every kind of ace person in the world exists, and you have no right to say that someone "isn't really asexual" or "is actively harming the community" by approaching life the way they do. Keep in mind that discrimination for being asexual intersects with race, gender, other queer identities, disability, and other factors.

How any individual asexual chooses to lead their life with regards to their asexual identity is none of my business as a human being. Rather, it is my duty to listen to their experiences and accept that even if they're not my own, that they're still a part of the community. And, as a human being, every asexual has a story worth listening to.

Text transcription under the cut:

[ID: A "The Simpsons Bus Stop" meme. The top panel is unchanged, it is a bus driver saying "don't make me tap the sign". The bottom panel, where the bus driver points to the sign, says the following:

There is no universal asexual experience. Part of being a community is understanding that there are people who have experiences that differ from your own, or what you think is the "proper" asexual experience. The existence of one experience does not invalidate the existence of another. You have no right to tell a real person that their expression is harming the community because they are sex-repulsed or sex-favorable and you are the opposite. Their experience is not the same as yours. That's normal.

You might argue that the existence of sex-repulsed asexuals leads to the perception that all of us can't have sex ever, which makes your allo partners think you're lying when you say you're asexual, or that the existence of sex-favorable asexuals makes allos think that you can be coerced into sex.

Ask yourself- why are you concerned with another person's experience? Why do YOU care so much about how amatonormative society sees asexual people as a whole? Do you think they'll treat us ALL better if you're "one of the good ones"? The only way you can make amatonormative society happy is to stop being asexual.

Acephobia is not the fault of asexual people.

End ID]

[neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies]

I want rich stories with asexual characters.

Asexuals who are sex repulsed, whose asexuality doesn't get 'cured' when a hot romantic partner walks in. Asexuals who think they are sex favorable realizing that they were only so in theory and are sex aversed in life. Sex indifferent asexuals just chilling in the middle. Asexuals with high libidos. Asexuals who masturbate. Asexuals who've never felt sexual arousal. Asexuals who want to have children. Asexuals who're asexuals due to sexual trauma.

Demisexuals and their partners discovering boundaries and communicating about what's okay and what's not. (Because even if asexuals are having sex, the relationship will be nothing compared to what amatonormativity wants you to believe) Conversations about sex.

Asexuals having allosexual partners (whom they aren't having sex with). Asexuals only preferring to date other asexuals. Straight asexuals, asexuals of every romantic identities, asexuals who fall in love, asexuals who get their heart broken because their partner can't have a relationship without sex :(, polyamorous asexuals, aromantic asexuals watching all the chaos.

I want real people, poc asexuals. Asexuals who love joking about sex, asexuals saying the lord's prayer everytime someone says anything sexual, asexuals who are somehow both. Religious asexuals, agnostic asexuals.

Conventionally attractive asexuals, asexuals who don't gaf what they look like, asexuals who love burlesque art forms due to non sexual reasons. Asexuals loving nudity in art because NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT SEX.

Asexuals who're confused and questioning. Young asexuals who think they might somehow 'grow out of it' and are faking their identity. Old/Middle aged asexuals who just realized they've been ace all their life.

Asexuals wanting to be normal all their life. Asexauls realizing they are normal.

Asexuals coming out and their family accepting them without the ahem "You'll find the perfect person one day" ahem "it's just a phase" ahem ahem "that doesn't exist" ahem "all humans want sex" ahem ahem AHEM.

Asexuals loving garlic bread. Asexuals invading denmark and finally establishing the heaven we want to and not tolerating anyone's bullshit anymore.

The media ( if they acknowledge asexuality at all ) simplies it to just 'no sex lol'. When it's so much more. We're living, breathing people, we are so complex and our identities are valid. Let's acknowledge that :)

[cannibalistic-deer]

It baffles me that I've seen people say "Alastor is canonically sex and touch repulsed" as a reason people "shouldn't" be shipping Alastor sexually/romantically.

Why assume that the sex repulsion applies to every relationship in his life, permanently? Some aces are sex favorable, or may develop more favorable feelings for specific people, even if otherwise repulsed.

And the same applies to touch repulsion. That's such a weak argument. Alastor canonically, and very clearly, is okay with or possibly even enjoys touch in specific situations. He does seem to be touch repulsed in general, but again, there are specific people it doesn't apply to. (Rosie is the best example, since with anyone else it is more brief, but Rosie touches him, and is the one initiating that, frequently.)

All types of attraction, or comfort levels with different manners of affection, are fluid. This isn't ever an excuse to invalidate real people who are telling you their identities, but it does mean that assumptions really can't be made about what a person would or wouldn't do.

And this type of thinking is what really leads to invalidating real people, because even if you think "being asexual means never having sexual attraction," and then an ace person shares that they think they might have experienced sexual attraction at some point but still identify as ace... then you have to be open to that. You cannot put sexualities in boxes. This applies to all sexualities.

I'm a fictive of Alastor myself, and I am sex repulsed, so I understand the discomfort, but I also understand that people are not harming any real, living person by making fanworks where Alastor is having sex. It also doesn't mean they're inherently rejecting his asexuality.

If people want to ignore Alastor being aroace completely, that's different. Alastor is canonically aroace (or asexual at minimum), and he always will be. But jumping to conclusions about what people think because you're too naive and stubborn to understand that sexuality and attraction doesn't fit into tidy little boxes is harmful and is a way of thinking that must be changed.

This became longer than intended because I was mostly thinking about the "Alastor is touch repulsed to everyone!" claims some people make, which are frankly incompatible with canon. But the rest of this post is also true.

[nekropsii]

Wild how when I call Shipping Culture oppressively pervasive and awful for any Aro/Ace with the gall to enjoy anything on the Internet, I get called a Fun-Hating Killjoy and told to just shut the fuck up or off myself, no matter how mild or polite my comment is. Wild how when I say a character either is textually Aro/Ace or is easier to read as Aro/Ace than Alloromantic/sexual, people start talking down to me like I'm a child who doesn't know anything, saying "Friendly reminder that Aro(s)/Aces can Date/Have Sex too, just like us Normal People!". As if I don't know anything about my own identity. Wild how when I do either of these things or even just say I'm not into a pairing or uninvested in shipping in general people call me fucking homophobic, even if the (at least popularly perceived - let's be honest, people are wrong half the time) genders of the characters is never once made relevant. Even though their reasoning for me being homophobic is lack of investment in a gay pairing they like, and nothing more. Wild how people throw little baby tantrums at even the gentlest criticism of Shipping Culture, or someone choosing not to engage heavily in it. Wild how they have the audacity to ask, with hostility, what the fuck Aro(s)/Aces are talking about when they say Shipping Culture is hostile to Aro/Ace fans, or ask what's wrong with them when they say that they aren't into Shipping.

It's almost like Bigots don't realize they're being Bigots when they do Bigotry, so just saying you're not a Bigot isn't enough. It's almost like Aro/Ace people know what the hell they're talking about. It's almost like we have a fucking point. It's almost like we're valid in expressing contempt and frustration with the constant expectation to engage with Romance and Sexuality at every waking moment, even if we're Romance and/or Sex Favorable. It's almost like we're tired of getting our identities erased, and we're tired of expecting to "act normal", and we're tired of just taking it when Allos use the Favorable members of our communities as a scapegoat for why they should be allowed to totally erase any of our representation just for their "Harmless Queer Fun" - deliberately, and I mean DELIBERATELY, failing to recognize or acknowledge the character's orientation, and how an A-Spec's personal relationship with and expressions of Love are going to look drastically different from an Allo person's - and call us the Bigots when we even glance in the direction of objection.

It's almost like Allo/Amatonormativity are oppressive forces.

Alloromantics/sexuals are constantly looking for any reason they can to call Aro(s)/Aces unloving, unfeeling, frigid, soulless, cruel. Inhuman. They're looking for any reason they can to call us whiny children, stupid, people who "just haven't found the right one", addressing us only as "Works in Progress", or someone who can have their sexuality corrected with the right stimulus - Conversion Therapy and Corrective Rape are okay when it happens to us, after all. Any reason at all to call us heartless monsters. AlloAces are confused children. They can be fixed. AroAllos are manipulative, unfeeling sexual predators. They can't be fixed - just kill them. AroAces are frigid, mean bitches. They can be fixed. God forbid you're Aplatonic. God forbid you're part of the Repulsed spectrum. God forbid you're one of the Loveless. God forbid you hold any pride in your identity, God forbid you don't keep your mouth shut, God forbid you critique the overinflated importance Allos place onto Love as a concept. God forbid you critique something as asinine and juvenile as fucking Shipping Culture. Do any one of these and you've put a bright red, blazing neon target on your back.

Wild how the only real humans amongst us are the Romance, Sex, and Friendship Favorable who put their head down and mask as Allo, and side with the Allos when their fellow A-Specs get too loud for the comfort of their Allo friend's delicate little fee-fees. After all, Vitriol and Harassment are warranted when an Allo's feelings get slightly hurt that an Aro person says, on their own account, to no one in particular, that they're sick of every tag being 80% Shipping Content. Which is a vehemently evil personal attack, clearly.

Wild.

[heybatterbats]

I’ve been seeing entirely too many posts about how ace-spec people aren’t really LGBTQ+ and don’t belong at Pride. And I got mad about it. So…*aces your Batfamily*

Yes, all of them. Every last one is now ace-spec in some way. They even named their dog Ace.

Bruce is sex-neutral biromantic demisexual, and came out by accident at age 24 to a random reporter who was not expecting it. This sparked a social media storm that was only halted by the much bigger social media storm of Bruce adopting Dick.

The Batman has been asked his sexuality before. Bruce replied- perfectly straight faced- that the Batman is an asexually reproductive entity and creates its Robins via mitosis. A third of Gotham, most of Metropolis, and several members of the Justice League still believe this.

Dick is sex-repulsed biromantic asexual, and is of the type to make the dirtiest jokes you’ve ever heard because sex is a joke to him. Came out in the form of an acrobatics performance he did at a pride parade, wearing a terrible Batman costume with a bi heart as the Batsymbol, an ace flag cape, and no pants. The audience was ecstatic. Bruce was mortified.

Nightwing has never said his sexuality, but anyone who claims he’s straight is quickly met with pictures of the Discowing suit and up to a dozen laughing emojis.

Jason is sex-repulsed aromantic asexual. He’s not as vocal about it as Dick is, but he does like it to be known. He’s the type to make garlic bread/cake/world domination jokes. And ESPECIALLY dragon jokes. He kinda tends to just insert it casually into conversation, he didn’t do anything crazy to come out. It’s just a fact about him.

Red Hood claims to be sexually attracted exclusively to guns. Bruce hates this joke.

Tim is the opposite of Bruce- he’s sex-positive bisexual demiromantic. One of the few Batkids to come out while in costume- he got a concussion on a case and blearily mumbled into Bruce’s hair that he’s “you but backwards” and completely confused Bruce. Tim is a little shy about his identity, but since dating Bernard he’s been more open about it.

Red Robin is out as bisexual, but hasn’t added demiromantic to that. Tim is worried people will piece his secret identity together, since Tim doesn’t realize that most normal people are not highly skilled detectives who can tell a person’s identity from a single acrobatics move.

At the moment, Damian just thinks he’s feeling the normal “ew cooties” that most children do. In the future he’ll realize that he’s sex-repulsed ace/aro, although he’ll refuse to use those terms in favor of broodily muttering “this bloodline dies with me.” Ra’s has an actual heart attack the first time Damian says this to his face and has to go into the Lazarus Pit to recover. Talia has never been more proud.

Barbara is sex-neutral, demiromantic and asexual. She’s more outspoken about it than most of the family, and runs social media pages about disability and the asexuality spectrum alike. Aphobes and ableists that make the mistake of leaving comments often mysteriously find that their most embarrassing search histories have been sent to their grandmother.

Cass is sex-repulsed ace/aro. Steph was the one to explain sexuality to her, and also made her an ace ring. Cass told Bruce first, then the rest of the family. She’s never come out publicly- Cass doesn’t like media attention being on her- but some sharp-eyed Gothamites who are looking can spot the black ring on Cassandra Cain-Wayne’s middle finger in a few paparazzi shots the papers got their hands on. (I have a fic about this!)

Black Bat has never been asked her sexuality, mainly because she’s absolutely terrifying and nobody can stammer out the words when faced with her.

Stephanie is sex-positive graysexual grayromantic, and absolutely not shy about it. She’s almost as good as Dick at making horrible, filthy jokes. Has punched a guy in the face for aphobia, does not regret it. Stephanie is out and proud and loud about it.

Spoiler/Batgirl III have both been seen wearing a rainbow flag as a cape too many times for anyone to assume they’re straight.

Duke is sex-neutral demisexual/demiromantic, and is probably the most open about it of the whole Batfamily. He’s fully out and so is Signal, and will inevitably show up at any daytime Pride event just to say hi. Gotham adores him, and he’s practically the ace-spec community’s mascot. Can and will use the entire rainbow spectrum of light to create various pride flags over Gotham whenever he feels like it, and has started taking flag/location requests. Once turned the Batsignal gay.

Harper is sex-positive bisexual aromantic, and where Stephanie is loud about it, Harper gets violent. She carries a souped-up taser and doesn’t hesitate to use it. Has knocked at least four homophobes/aphobes out cold not counting the ones she beat up in the Narrows. Bluebird is not only publicly out as bisexual but wears two out of three bisexual colors, and while it’s not come up publicly yet, she won’t hide that she’s aromantic either. Along with Signal and Spoiler, Bluebird is one of the vigilantes that’s known for being specifically good at handling LGBTQ+ issues. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

After being forcibly outed as gay and then bullied for it, Cullen is still in the closet about the fact that he’s asexual and sex-repulsed, too. The first person he told after Harper was Alfred. By now the whole family knows, but they’ve been careful to keep it away from the media until Cullen’s ready to come out himself.

Alfred is sex-neutral, aromantic, and pansexual, though he’s older than some of those terms and doesn’t often use them to describe himself. Bruce didn’t know Alfred was anything but straight until he was almost seventeen, to which Alfred replied- signature eyebrow raise at full height capacity- that he had a career in the theater, Master Bruce, and no one who does that can possibly be typical in matters of orientation or any other aspect of life.

The outfit might seem antithetical to this, but Selina is ace too! Specifically, she’s sex-positive, heteroromantic and demisexual. The leather outfit is primarily for distraction purposes rather than true sex appeal. When it comes to Bruce, however, Selina’s more than once described herself as “morosexual.” Bruce, bless him, still has no idea what that means.

There ya go. Ace-spec Batfam. Happy Pride to everyone but especially all you fellow ace-spec folks who absolutely, 100% belong there.

[catnippackets]

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

[feathered-serpents]

Sometimes. I see non-ace people talk about ace characters in a way that makes me wanna just. Take the characters and put them in a little box and go “Okay enough of these for now :)” and I won’t do that because it’s a dickish thing to do but SOMETIMES

I don’t even mean just erasing their asexuality I mean things like using the label “asexual” completely synonymously with “sex-repulsed” making an asexual character just not understanding the concept of sex or worse, straight up infantilizing the character and making them “pure” and “innocent” for being asexual

Every single asexual I’ve ever met has a very unique relationship with their asexuality. I’ve met sex-repulsed aces that passionately spread awareness about safe sex, both in terms of protection and also just making sure your BEING PHYSICALLY SAFE while having sex. A HUGE part of the kink community is asexual. I’ve met sex-favorable aces that never have sex not because they would hate it it’s just tiring and they don’t feel like it. I don’t know HOW many times we have to tell you that “asexual” is NOT an umbrella term for “person who doesn’t have sex” but apparently a few more times because it keeps not sticking

[bloggingboutburgers]

As a sex-repulsed ace, is it bad that I find a lot of kink stuff at Pride very uncomfortable? I think they have every right to be there, but I just find it highly uncomfortable.

Yeah, if so, I don't see it as bad, because I'm in the same situation. I just don't go or go home early if there's too much kink at prides, because that's just how it is for a sex-repulsed person. But like you said, they have every right to be there, we know it, and we're not there to prevent that or argue against it in the slightest. What we personally feel about it is just an inevitable part of our place on the ace spectrum and shouldn't have any consequence on their rights.

[shelbygraces]

so sorry, but could you explain asexuality pls?

i've been questioning for awhile but have seen so many conflicting things and am incredibly confused.

thank you so much!!!!

i would love too since it remains widely misunderstood! asexual simply means somebody experiences little to no sexual attraction. this can mean different things for people depending on if they are sex favorable or sex aversed, but being asexual does not mean ‘doesn’t have sex’. and being asexual doesn’t mean ‘doesn’t date’. every individual ace is different and will have a different relationship to sex, but the common experience is the lack of sexual attraction, which only you will understand best. lack of attraction doesn’t stop everybody from every part of an intimate relationship. and if you also find yourself not experiencing romantic attraction or interested in dating, which is often confused for asexuality, you might be aromantic! they don’t always come together but they can. you might find certain parts of intimacy foreign and unnatural or uninteresting entirely. some aces are literally repulsed by sex. some aces can have a high libido and large sex drive. there’s such a variety, i find every conversation with an ace person so interesting! so asking questions in the community can be so helpful. and knowing if you are ace, whatever choices you make doesn’t invalidate your identity :)