#beard growth surgery

[doberbutts]

Speaking of Bad Takes Havers and Stupid Arguments, scrolled by one that was effectively "trans guys who talk about transandrophobia should instead practice posting pictures of older passing trans men but they won't because of their fantasies of never passing"

And like. First of all. I do that. I've posted multiple older, passing trans men. I talk about my trans guy friends who pass perfectly all the time? I pass like 80-90% of the time nowadays?

But I also know trans men- binary trans men who are absolutely putting in the effort to pass as binary cis men- who do not pass and have been on T for significantly longer than I have been. I've been on T for a year and a half and I pass fairly well nowadays. I have a friend who has been on T for over 10 years who does not. I had more beard and more growth and more masculine features and frame pre-T than he does 10 years on T, post-op, medically transitioning far younger than me. That's... honestly one of the points? Not everyone is so lucky.

And not everyone desires my outcome, and it's *weird* seeing this argument over and over because honestly it just sounds like transmedicalism. The only valid trans guys are the ones that are binary male and pass perfectly for cis and have been on T for years and have done every single surgery possible. Sorry but that's not a lot of people's realities, and it's just plain not feasible for many people either. We're just going to leave these people behind because their journey doesn't match ours??? Really???

It's so bizarre to see someone constantly going "skill issue" when faced with someone else who does not pass. Some people are never going to pass. It doesn't make them any less trans or any less of whatever gender they say they are. How can you call yourself part of the trans community when you're spitting on people less fortunate or with different priorities than you?

[anniflamma]

I kind of have a headcanon that Daniel has gynecomastia. (Gynecomastia is the enlargement of one or both breasts in men due to the growth of breast tissue, often caused by a hormone imbalance between estrogens and androgens.)

It’s a common condition that eunuchs develop over time. Honestly, Daniel having larger breasts would be more accurate than him having a beard if he was a eunuch to begin with.

I also fell into a rabbit hole reading about men documenting their experiences with having larger breasts—how it felt to start using chest binders, the mix of shame and happiness they experienced by themselves and from others, and whether they decided to have surgery or not.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ You better lock your door and look at me a little more (we both know I'm worth waitin' for) ❞

Vander x ftm!reader | fluffy, NSFW, slight angst | there's some plot at the end | reader has had top-surgery & bottom growth | versatile. bottom. reader | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 5k

warnings: r! is a prostitute, brothel mentioned, mentions of addiction, spanking, fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, terms like boypussy, pussy, boycunt, cunt are used)

masterlist;

authors note: you guys have @strayjester to thank for this because of the thirst we had for this fine-ass single dad...

*song on repeat: Billie Boss Nova by Billie Eilish *YN is described as being shorter than Vander in this fic.

He’s getting that itch under his skin again. Muscles aching and throat begging for the soothing burn of addictive smoke. Vander tosses a rag on his shoulder, scratching at his beard as he fixes his posture. His skin feels stretched thin, aching for a salve to fill the crevices and drought; his ears muffle the bar, and the song playing floats into his ears.

The playful percussions, the whispering tone of the singer, and the sighs of the adlibs remind him of the fairytales of fairies, sirens, and boys in masks in nothing but a see-through robe.

Vander straightens up, briefly glancing over at the doors of the bar. The underground doesn’t get sunlight, but like a dog, he knows when people are starting to head back home. The crowd in here was mostly gone, some were passed out in the booths and some intently eating sunflower seeds in their corner. He’d have to clean it up and make sure the tables weren’t sticky, and the floor needed a good sweep too.

Impatientness grows in him. Vander sighs, pouring himself a shot of something to reinvigorate him, and slams the glass down. It startles the man at the bar enough to have him reach for his coins, the rest get the same hint.

“You look like you need a nightcap," Spider mutters. Vander thinks it’s ridiculous for people to call the seamstress such an intimidating name when she vehemently despises the arachnids, but it stuck and she has no choice but to embrace it. She has the courtesy of bringing her bowl of opened sunflower seeds and an empty glass to him instead of just stumbling off.

But Vander knows it isn’t exactly out of the kindness of her heart.

It flatters him that she finds him attractive. Really, it does. She was a beautiful woman and a capable one too. But Vander is tired and truly, he doesn’t want his rendezvous to be chattered on about everywhere. His kids didn’t need to hear about any of it.

“Aye’, that I do. Thankfully, I own a bar,” she chuckles and reaches forward to swat at his shoulder. Vander just smiles, taking her dishes and placing them elsewhere so his back is turned to her. “It’s not good practice to drink your own stock,” Spider places her elbows on the table and Vander doesn’t need to spare a glance to know her breasts are on display too. This isn’t the first time she’s done this, and most likely won’t be the last.

The song ends with a soothing croon from the singer and Vander’s cock twitches in his pants as he spots the business card stuck between the frame of the mirror.

“Ya’ sober enough to make your way back safe?” Spider’s brows pinch and she mutters, gluing her gaze on Vander’s face as he pulls the rag down to wipe the table. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

Vander nodded, bidding her a good night she simply replied with a wave. She was the last to leave through the front door and Vander manages to not groan in relief at the click he hears.

‘ Hurry! ‘ A voice tells him. It’s early in the morning now, the window is closing but he can’t possibly leave the bar in this state. He’ll be the one regretting it when he opens tonight. Vander imagines he must’ve looked a bit dumb as he stares at the state of the bar when Vi appears at the top of the stairs.

“What?” Vi tilts her head at him but gestures loosely to the tables and chairs. “I said I can clean it, you look...tired.”

He sighs, squeezing the back of his neck. “What’re you doing up so early, Vi?” she shrugs which is a non-answer but pushes through the doorway and meanders behind the bar. Her head pops out and she places the iron bucket of cleaning supplies. Vander walks to her, handing her the rag as he reaches for a broom.

“Vander, I can clean the place just fine,” she huffs. “All by yer’self? S’gonna take ya’ forever,” he’s jesting but she finds no humor in it. The girl crosses her arms as she glares up at him. A part of him wants nothing more than to dash out of here, to find that salve he desperately is aching for, but there was no way he could leave his daughter to clean up by herself just because he wanted to get his dick wet.

“Dude, just go,” Vi grabs the bucket and rag and marches to the tables. He frowns a bit, crossing his arms as he contemplates it.

“Ya’ couldn’t sleep?” Vi shakes her head. “Nope! Milo was snoring and Claggor kept moving in his sleep. Powder must be tired because she’s sleeping through it with no problem.” Vi’s always been a light sleeper. Most of the people in the underground were. But Vander just needs to ask; “Ya’ sure it wasn’t the nightmares?” Vi pauses in her wiping and Vander watches her face as she sends him a pouty expression.

“Yes, I’m sure. I haven’t had one of those in forever anyway — just go rest, old man. I can wipe down tables and sweep floors by myself.”

“Are you sure — “

“Dude!”

The path he takes is always quiet. Hidden between tight alleyways and old wires hung too low — he rarely saw characters here other than the occasional cat or shady hooded figure but that was a normal sight anywhere.

The back of the building is less glamorous than the front but not out of neglect. It was purposefully made that way — fewer lights, fewer signs, and fewer girls spilling from the door. But he peeks up from the hood of his jacket and he sees the voyeuristicly lit windows. The shadows of bodies behind the thin curtains, the seductive glow and thrum of the others. The back door is not locked, it's just made to look that way so people feel dirtier pushing the heavy door open.

He hears a whistle and his cock honestly to god jumps at the sight of your naked shoulders. Your mask was askew, your hair messed up, and smears of lipstick on your lips, and your skin; Vander is envious of the cigarette holder you have in your grip.

When your lips wrap around it he feels the exhaustion melt away. Plumes of purple smoke pour out from your mouth; “Had a feeling you’d be comin’ over."

Vander laughs, moving to the door with his eyes still on you. “Yeah? Just knew, did ya’?”

You nod, placing your chin in your palm as he opens the door.

“Yeah. My ass has been wanting a good stretch the whole day, only gets that way when you’re comin’ over.”

' Coming over ', you make it sound like he’s a teenage boy sneaking through your window. Vander says nothing as he walks in and you grin at it. His silence was good — it meant he was going to give it to you just how you wanted. You finish the cigarette and slip the curtains close.

Vander liked his privacy after all.

The hallways are familiar, but he still thinks the wallpaper is a bit too busy and the creak in the floorboards should have been fixed. Saying it out loud feels a bit shameful. After all, how often would he have to come over to recognize these things?

He passes by a doorway guarded with beaded curtains and he ignores the moans of the woman who is being devoured by another. The doorway next to it has the sounds of leather rubbing against leather so he peeks as he passes by to see it shines under the low lights.

Reaching the stairs, Vander is greeted by Sevika lip-locked with another woman. He lowered his head, hoping she was too busy fingering her to notice. At the landing, there’s a wall of hooks, and on each of them held a mask of an animal. They differed in all sorts of sizes, and materials, each handcrafted by different artists. Customers wear them if they’d like but it was a must for employees.

The allure, the secrecy, the seductive notion of masked strangers sucking your cock, blah blah blah.

He grabs the wolf mask, slipping it on with ease, as he climbs the rest of the stairs. He misses Sevika staring at his back with squinted eyes.

“D’you know him?” she asks. The girl in the doe mask pants but eyes Vander’s frame through the wooden bars of the stairs. “Him? Oh, he’s a regular. Secretive, and never lets anyone else see his face other than the Fantastic Mr. Fox.”

That makes Sevika snort. “(Y/N)? He only comes here for him?” She can’t exactly blame the man. You were a talented little beast. Hands, mouth, feet, cunt, ass — every part of you was made with pleasure in mind. She enjoys having you in a headlock as she pounds into your asshole, enjoys your tongue inside of her and your filthy little words.

But just for you? This pleasure house had a gaggle of beasts for him to lay with. Hairy beasts with cocks just as big as their arms who enjoy plowing and being plowed. Demure little nymphs with a talent to make people beg for their cocks to be stepped on or to cry in pleasure. Tall beasts, short beasts, catering to every need and fetish a man could have.

“There’s a betting pool,” the Doe says. Sevika turns to face her as the masked man enters the hallway leading to your room. “About?” Sevika pulls her fingers out to pull away the negligee and kneads at her small breast. She shudders, arching her back into her but continues; “The Wolf and The Fox. That he’s smitten, maybe even a bit obsessed.” Sevika scoffs, rolling her eyes as she pinches Doe's perk nipple between her fingers,

"Poor bastard."

"I think it's — ah — cute," Doe retorts as she squeezes Sevika's biceps. "To you maybe, a smitten customer gets you more coin," Sevika grunts out, her tone light despite it.

"Falling in love with a whore is just stupid."

"You saying you don't love me, Daddy?" Doe pouts her lips. Sevika chuckles as she lowers her head to nibble on it. "I'll love you tonight, baby. Think that'll be enough?"

The door has the symbol of your mask, painted in gold. It's ajar, a sliver of light lighting the carpeted floors and Vander rolls his shoulders as he pushes the door open.

Your room is heavy with the smell of incense. There's thudding against the walls, moans of pleasure echoing despite it being muffled. Vander's shoes make no noise. The carpets on the floor provide more than just comfort. Discretion. This room and the others on this floor are all for high-paying customers.

He closes and locks the door behind him. He reaches for his mask but your voice stops him.

"Keep it on," you push yourself off the door frame, the beads clattering softly, and Vander tits his head at your sashay. Your mask was left on the bed, leaving your face bare, and Vander cocks a brow as he looks down at you.

"One of those nights?" His hands settle on your waist. The size of them, the roughness that's felt through the silk of your robe, it makes your grin stretch wider. "You got other ideas, Vander?" you muse. "Was hopin' to kiss ya'," he huffs.

The grip on your ass lurches you forward further into his broad chest. Vander's eyes are heavy, the shadows attempt to hide the desire but it's futile. He's kneading, hitching you up higher until you're barely on your toes.

Head tilting, he leans in. Your head floats away, hands still gripped onto his shirt as he chases and you don't give in.

"(Y/N)," his tone suggests a warning. But it's amusing. Here you are, in his arms. His strength keeps you in place and in the air; the mask is akin to a muzzle. Except he's fully capable of taking it off if he wishes.

The fact that you asked for him to keep it on is not lost to you. Your words alone held so much power over him. You place his neck between the gap of your thumb and pointer finger, barely there pressure keeping him still despite the yearning in his eyes.

"You're exhausted, big guy. Long day, yeah?" Vander nods at your words.

"Lay down on the bed. I'll make you feel good."

He hesitates for a moment. But your feet find the floor again and he begrudgingly parts. When he walks past you, you follow behind him. He pauses when you reach for the front of his pants, looking at you from over his shoulder.

"Take off your clothes for me, baby."

Your bed is shaped in a semi-circle. The curtain around it was drawn all the way back. There's a mountain of pillows and bolsters that welcome Vander's naked frame as he settles on it.

The trail of his clothes on the floor has your silk robes accompanying you as you stand at the end of the bed.

Vander tilts his head, widening his legs and stroking his hairy thighs. Leading your eyes to the thick dick that's already at full mast.

"Damn," you whistle. The bed dipped under the weight of your knee. "I know I'm good looking but you can't be that hard from just 5 seconds of laying your eyes on me."

He can't tear his gaze from you. From the marks on your face to the state of your hair; the bare skin that he loves to bruise and mark up — despite being told by you it's not exactly encouraged — Vander is convinced you're not real sometimes.

The arcane has been long gone now. Yet, here you are. Living, breathing, proof that its remnants linger in pumping hearts and honey-sweet skin. With just your voice, you make his knees buckle and his cock strain through the material of his pants.

Just the whisper of your name has his entire day derailed as he thinks and thinks and thinks of you.

Oh, (Y/N).

You're his undoing.

Gooseflesh spread at your touch and Vander groans as you settle yourself between his legs. That haunting touch makes its way to his crotch, ghosting along his aching rod, up his soft stomach, and towards his chest. It rests there and his heart threatens to escape his ribcage. The heat from your cunt has him sighing and settling his hands on the arch of your back. It makes you chuckle.

"Please, darlin'," he begs, "I been needing you so badly. All day."

There's no way you can deny him. Not when your cock jumps at the airy tone he has, that gravelly husk that comes with it. It peeks up, just as hard as his. He can feel it drag along his own and he tightens his grip on you.

"Yeah?" You nose at his neck, trailing your painted lips down. The hairs on his chest tickle your cheek when you place your face there, breathing against his perk nipples.

"Shit, yeah. Can't you feel me?" He grows a bit bolder in his next move. Urging your hips forward so he can feel your wet folds, forcing your stiff cock to rub up. The motion makes your eyes flutter close, sighing against his pebbling nub.

"For such a big man, you're such a teddy bear," you lift your hips, lining his thick head with your needy cunt. He laughs, his masked face tilting downwards as his blue-grey eyes all but glow in excitement.

"I've been told I am a bear," his words end a moan when you slip him inside. The bowl of condoms littered just about everywhere outside this room wasn’t there for decoration. They were there for the John’s and Jane’s who needed them.

But you know Vander. You’ve been the only thing he’s been hitting and you make sure the rest of your clients are always wrapped up.

Everything about him is thick so it’s no surprise you feel the twinge of discomfort as you accommodate to his size. It lingers briefly but once the mushroom tip of his dick is inside pleasure runs up your spine.

“Oh fuck yes,” you wrap your arms around his neck and press your chest together. He instantly embraces you, adjusting his grip to your ass again so he can help you straddle his legs.

“Fuck, baby. Your dick is so big,” and for once you’re not lying about it.

Vander’s a big boy. His thick arms, square jaw, the delicious shape of his nose; his wide chest and sturdy shoulders, and his soft but firm stomach. Fuck, everything about Vander makes your head fill warm.

His dick twitches inside you as you slide down. The snout of the wooden mask bumps into your forehead and you laugh as he leans in.

“S’fuckin’ needy,” he has no protests. You reach for the bottom of the mask and push it up, blinding him but rewarding him with your lips. His beard is soft. As you feel through it, you cup his jaw and he groans into the kiss.

More of him inches inside of you and halfway down, you’re pulling away to breathe. His fingers are going to leave handprints with how roughly he holds you; flesh spilling from the gaps of his greedy digits.

“Fuck, (Y/N).”

“Yeah, say my name, baby.”

Vander grunts when you fix the mask into place. When you lean back, he takes in the sight of the bump on your stomach.

“Perv.” His dick twitches again. So you laugh.

“Absolutely rotten.”

Your eyes slip close as you let gravity take over. Fuck, the way your hips buck up and twitch as he fills you up has his toes curling. You’re dripping wet, the thick and clear liquid travelling down his balls.

“You’re so fuckin’ hard,” he thumbs at your cock. When he uses his knuckles to stroke it, his mouth goes dry at the way it twitches and righteously stands tall.

“All ‘cus of you,” you purr. Vander groans, now idly touching the bump of his dick and you sigh as he presses down on it.

“Ooooh fuck, Vander.”

He rolls your hips, moving to ground his heels into the bed but you beat him to it. Your hands brace his knees and you lift up and up and up — his tip bumping into yours in the brief time it’s out of you — then slipping him all the way inside again.

Vander curses, his accent thickening as you throw his head back.

You chew on your bottom lips, savouring the explosion of pleasure behind your eyelids. As you look at his heaving chest, you cannot stop the sharp grin that crawls onto your face.

Placing one hand on his shoulder, you put your thighs to work. Vander is at your mercy. Panting and moaning behind the mask as he watches your work on his cock. Riding him, grinding down on him, using his thick dick for your pleasure.

Your other hand leads his own to a surprise.

Between your ass that he adores so much, he bucks up when he feels the base of a plug inside of your ass.

“Oh, you liked that,” you moan. All high and airy as you slow down into grinding, thighs burning. Vander is tugging onto the plug and your rim stretches as he teases it in and out.

“You’re gonna kill me one day,” he growls out.

“You’ll die happy, don’t — mngh — duh-don’t...Shit, Vander. Baby. Oh fuuuck.”

The exhaustion of the day has seeped out from him it seems. He’s leaning forward, caging you between his raised knees and firm front.

In one smooth movement, your back bounces on the bed and he’s on top of you. The acoustic of the wooden mask makes him sound like an animal as he growls above you, he huffs and pants like a proper wolf.

You share a long look, even as he rocks in and out of you and you feel your heavy eyelids threaten to squeeze shut. He braces onto his elbows, his weight on you making you whine and keen.

He takes the reigns and smiles when you reach to take his mask off. It thuds onto the carpet, mere inches away from your own mask.

“Hey, handsome.” You stroke over his cheekbones, gasping into his mouth as he kisses you. A particularly deep thrust makes you arch off the bed and it distracts you from his deft hands pulling out your plug.

“Your cunts got me all nice and wet,” he growls into your ear. “Perfect for fucking your ass then,” you whisper back.

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” He slips out and you whimper at the loss. You’re not empty for long. He taps his tip onto your winking hole and you chew on the insides of your cheeks in anticipation.

“C’mon, baby. Fuck me.”

“Yes, sir,” he purrs with a devillishly handsome smile.

He rights his posture, holding your ankles in one grip and folding your legs so your knees are nearly at your chest.

The stretch makes you toss your head to the side, cunt gaping as he fixates on the sight of your greedy holes.

Vander spits onto your hole and pushes in deeper. It makes you sing like a proper whore. Clutching onto the sheets while your chest heaves.

God, when he takes over like this — it makes you fantasize about how good it’d feel to wake up in his bed for once — but fantasies like that are dangerous. Vander is smarter than that, he’d know better than to bring a whore back home. Especially a whore like you.

His heavy balls slap against your ass. It knocks the breath out of you. You cry out, tears pricking your eyes when he strokes your dick. Vander splits your thighs and he holds your face with so much care you feel your heart pound our of your chest.

“(Y/N),” when he moans your name you want nothing more than to keep him here with you forever.

When he fucks up into your ass, you inch forward with every strong thrust. So he holds you down, keeping you in place as he stretches out your ass. The friction on your dick makes you even wetter. But you still hiss in discomfort as your rim clenches around him. Vander pants above you, slowing to a stop.

“Lube, darlin’?”

You nod, gesturing to the nightstand. Vander kisses you, pulling out as he turns and grabs the strawberry-scented bottle. You lay out on the bed, breathing heavily as you recompose yourself.

Vander lubes his dick up, eyeing your cunt a little too hungrily for your liking. So you knock your knees together, staring at him pointedly when he blinks innocently at you. “No double dipping,” you warn. Vander scoffs, grinning loosely.

“I know that, boy.” “D’you?”

Your expression makes him snort. He parts your legs again, smearing some lube on your hole before he presses his heavy cock inside of you again.

“‘Course I do. Your cunt’s just so sexy, can’t help but stare.”

“Yeah? Should I call another client and make him fuck my pussy while you fuck my ass?” You’re goading him. He realizes that. But the flash of jealousy that comes across his face is not something he can control.

Vander doesn’t respond. Merely grunting as he fucks into you. You yelp at the strength he’s using, cursing as you’re dragged onto his dick. Helpless as he uses you.

“Yuh - You pissed?” he glares at you but shakes his head.

“No.”

“Yer' a shitty liar.” You moan out his name as he turns you over onto your stomach, barely having time to process his movements as he pulls you onto your knees. He’s bruising you with his grip and when he spanks your ass, you know it’ll be sore till the next day. Every spank makes you tighten up around him. He presses between your shoulder blades and you are keen as he reaches deeper than before.

“M’just joking, Vander,” you pant out. “It’s all yours, all of it — all of me.“

Vander vengeance is in his hips. An unrelenting force that turns your body into nothing but a conduit of pleasure. Your gummy walls are torn between pushing him out and keeping him in — it doesn't matter, in the end, the one with power over you was him. There's bliss in relinquishing control. It's a whisper of voices, serenading you to a high that even the strongest drugs could barely scratch.

Or maybe you were just an addict for sex — or just Vander.

No seasoned whore lets their guard down with a client. There's a degree of trust needed. It's surface level. The bond between you and Vander — there's something oddly binding about it. You've heard of the religions scattered around the world. Of monks who abstain from worldly pleasures, those who worship an entire militia of gods, and those who only believed in one Maker; they spoke with such certainty of their beliefs. The punishment and euphoria waiting for them at the end of the line.

Fucking Vander feels like religion. When he makes your body burn from the inside out with a lust only he can quench — you're doomed and there's no one to blame but yourself.

That's a lie, you bite down on the bedsheets as you feel his balls slap against your cunt and dick. There's someone to blame for putting Vander in your way, (Y/N).

"Shit, sweetheart. I'm close," Vander groans. You moan, forcing yourself to reach back so you can kiss him. Vander feels his heart hammering, reaching to pinch your cock between his fingers to distract himself from these bubbling emotions.

Loving you was a freedom he had long forgotten about. Hearing you moan out his name, digging your nails into his skin and kissing him so deeply. He aches for you — his veins burn when he even thinks he sees you in the crowd.

He loves you.

Vander murmurs something on your lips that you don't catch. But you're too far gone to acknowledge your senses. You're so close to unraveling. Teetering on that edge of bliss as Vander holds you like he wants your bodies to become moulded together like clay.

"Vander, Vander — "

He slips his fingers inside your cunt. You gasp, feeling yourself clench around him like a vice as you squirt onto his fingers and cum around his dick. Vander is close behind, growling out your name as he thrusts in balls deep and floods your ass with his thick ropes of cum.

The both of you ride off the orgasm. His hips still fucking in and out of you in shallow motions that have your breath hitching with every drag and poke. Vander slips his fingers out and brings it to your lips — you chuckle softly, letting them inside as you clean his talented digits.

"How much did you pay the madame?" You nuzzle into his neck, relying on him to hold you up. He kisses your shoulders, his beard tickling your skin as his hands roam your front.

"Long enough. You sick of me already, darling?"

Don't think that's possible, you thought with a loose grin. Vander groans into your mouth as you grab his chin and kiss him.

"Don't flatter yourself, baby."

Vander looks younger when he rests. Not like a boy again, just younger. The lines on his face were less prominent and the softness of his body was more inviting. You're tracing mindless shapes into his chest, chastising the city of Zaun for beginning its morning cycle. The noises from beyond the window are beginning to shift from the noisy nightlife of hookers calling for Johns and booming music from clubs to the food stalls opening and wagons being pulled along the worn-down roads.

You can hear the thudding of Vander's heart under your ear. It squeezes your own so you lift your head and gaze down at him, just taking him in from a new angle. The door clicks and Vander's brows pinch but he does not stir. He trusts you enough to rest. For you to keep vigil over him.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" his voice drawls like a thick caramel. A seductive purr with a certain husk that tingles your senses. The tall, lanky, man enters the room and he is shameless as he takes the both of you in.

"He paid for the whole night, not the day." Silco comments. "He gets a pass on good behavior. What do you need?" Vander's hand is carefully guided to hold one of the pillows and you carefully move to stand.

Silco takes in the sight of you. Moving forward, he grasps your chin in his hand and tilts your head back; "He's always been such a possessive man."

"Yeah? He marked you up like this too?" He regards you with a tepid glance. "Sir," you add smoothly. Giving him a half-hearted grin.

It works. Silco's eyes soften, just slightly but it's a crutch you're leaning on. He likes you more than he'd like to admit and you're beginning to feel guilty for all these emotions brewing inside of you for these two brothers-in-arms.

"Did you learn anything from tonight, (Y/N)?" Silco looks past you to Vander. Turning his voice into a whispering tone that feels more romantic than he probably intended it to.

You contemplate telling him. Pursing your lips for a second before you lean in and embrace Silco, pressing your lips up his jaw and whispering in his ear.

"He's friends with the Sheriff. Grayson. But he worries." "About?" Silco's hands wrap around your waist, shadowing Vander's marks with his own. "He worries about the fresh meat she has on her team. Piltover's steady now but one incident and he doubts he'll be able to keep the peace, no matter how hard Grayson tries. The children," you pause and he turns his head to look at you. You gulp thickly, then continue: "The eldest daughter, Vi, she's getting restless. Dangle bait and she'll bite."

Silco stares for a moment. You take him in, unable to stop the grin that crawls on your face as he presses a long kiss to your lips.

"Well done, (Y/N)." His praise had once been something akin to a drug to you, a high you desperately needed to keep your doubts at bay. A soothing coolness that'll keep this rage inside of you to a lukewarm temperature; the promise that Piltover will soon fall to its knees to Zaun had been your motivation to live for years now.

Yet, your chest tightens and your stomach twists as his words wash over you.

"Of course, sir."

[okuhle23]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS- 018

☆ People with Moon in the 2nd house may get thirsty really quick, or they always have water on them and are hydrated. These people might also really enjoy milk and things like milkshakes, icecream etc.

☆Moon in the 3rd/6th/9th/12th houses or Gemini/Virgo/Sagittarius/Pisces moons may have fluctuating moods. This is cause the the 3rd/6th/9th/12th houses and Gemini/Virgo/Sagittarius/Pisces are mutable (which basically means adaptive/changeable) and Moon rules ones moods and emotions.

☆ Celebrities with Mercury in the 10th house may be involved in lots of public dramas. This is cause Mercury rules controversies and the 10th house shows what you're known for. Examples: Marilyn Monroe, Johnny Depp, Chris Brown.

☆ People with Mercury in the 4th (or Gemini/ Virgo in the 4th) may be able to speak multiple languages because they have a diverse family. This is because Mercury rules different languages and dialects while the 4th house represents your family.

☆ Venus in the 3rd may like reading erotica/romantic novels. im guilty 😭✋️.

☆ Venus rules the navel, so Venus aspecting Mars or Saturn can indicate having a belly piercing. This is because Mars or Saturn can represent piercings People with this placement look good with piercings.

☆ Mercury dominants or Mercury in the 2nd house may either have 10/10 vision, or they may have needed glasses from a young age. This is cause Mercury rules sight and youth and depending on how your Mercury is aspected, it can go either way.

☆Jupiter in the 10th/6th house can mean that you want to become a doctor or work in the medical field (or you wanted to as a kid). This is cause Jupiter rules doctors/doctor's offices and the 10th/6th house shows one's career

☆Fun astrology fact: Jupiter rules growth and I found out that it also rules the pituitary gland, which is in part, responsible for the growth and maturation of the human body. Interesting.

☆Guys with Saturn in the 1st or 10th houses could look really good with a beard especially as they grow older and mature. Examples: Leo DiCaprio(10th house), Chris Evans(10th house), Adam Levine(1st house), Kevin Hart(1st house).

☆Having Uranus in the 9th house can mean that you believe in 'unconventional' things like aliens and  communicatung with ancestors. This is because Uranus rules unconventional things and the 9th house represents your beliefs.

☆Neptune in the 1st/6th house can mean that you're a good dancer (or at least youve got rhythm💃) this is because the 1st/6th house represents your body and Neptune rules dancing/dancers.

☆People with Neptune in the 10th/1st house could be known for their looks, they would do well in modeling. Example: Kendall Jenner(10th house) , Gigi Hadid(10th house), Adriana Lima(1st house)

☆ Celebrities with Neptune in the 1st or 10th house tend to build their fame on their sexuality or are known for being sexy. These people can sometimes be into cosmetic surgeries and/or filters in order to keep up their brand.

~Celebrities with Neptune in the 10th house: Kendall Jenner, Khloe Kardashian, Kourtney Kardashian, Cardi B.

~Celebrities with Neptune in the 1st house: Kim Kardashian, Marilyn Monroe, Kylie Jenner. **It's interesting to see that all the Kardashian/Jenner sisters have either of these placements. 🤔💭

☆Whatever sign is in your 12th house can show how you deal with grief, as the 12th house rules grief. Examples: 👇

~Capricorn in the 12th might mean that you like to deal with it alone, and don't like talking about it. You may also hate people seeing you cry.

~Gemini in the 12th can mean that you try to keep yourself busy in order to 'forget' your loss. You may also be very vocal about your feelings, since it's a Mercury ruled sign.

~ Aries in the 12th can mean you get angry about your loss. You might also try to make yourself look strong in order to help others cope. You may be other people's 'rock'.

☆When Mercury is Retrograde in Aries  or Scorpio  there may be a greater chance of getting into a motor vehicle accident, or the incidences of it happening may be higher.

☆Sun in the 11th house are really kind and try to treat everybody with respect. I feel like this is the real people pleaser placement. Like even if these people don't like someone, they won't show it. Truly kind people.

Thank you so much for getting this far, if you'd like to check out my other astrology observations visit my blog @okuhle23. I offer 👉paid readings👈 too, you can dm me for more info. If you'd like to support my work, this is my 👉 PayPal

Happy new year everyone ✨️

[pansyfemme]

i love ur beard it's so cool... how long on t did it take 2 grow that

thank u thank u. im about 5.5 years on t now, standard dose injections and all that. my beard started coming in around 3 years on t and got less patchy over time. i dont use any facial hair growth treatments and never have, it’s all genetics and testosterone 👍 i trim it from time to time and wash/condition it reguarly to keep it healthy but that’s it

mini timeline (starting with 3 yrs onwards, since i only had wispy mustache hairs at most before that) . first photo and second are actually not that far apart (july 2021 vs dec 2021) , once i got top surgery my facial and body hair growth just sped up like fucking crazy lol

[the-withering-system]

Things I'm excited for in my transition!

A Beard (Yay for my hairy genetics)

Bottom growth (The Euphoria!!!)

Fat redistribution (Hope this one happens!)

VOICE CHANGES!!! (One of my biggest goals for T)

Feeling comfortable wearing feminine clothes again

Top surgery! (Far away but want asap)

MAKE UP!!! (I can't wait to wear makeup with a beard!!)

Girl boy, boy girl, girln't feels

People not knowing whether to use fem or masc terms for me

And like a million more that I can't remember right now!

[max-clinic1]

[chiropteranhyde]

I want some mad scientist to strap me down to a slab for his experiments. He’s obsessed with the idea of the soul and how it can be connected - or disconnected - to the body and he sees me, an insecure woman who doesn’t quite look right or comfortable and knows that I’m perfect for what he wants.

I struggle against the straps on the operating table as he takes the very first step in the process - just an injection of a serum he’s concocted, the giant brass syringe gleaming in the gas lamps as the needle dives straight into the meat of my thigh. It pinches, but I take it. I beg him not to but he coos and assures me it’s all for my own good. He keeps me locked in the cellar in between injections to make sure his precious test subject doesn’t escape.

He makes meticulous notes, documenting the entire process of the change. Measuring the increase in density of my body and facial hair, the growth of my muscle mass, the lengthening of my clit as it begins to morph into a more cock-like organ. He makes sketches to illustrate the process of my Adam’s apple becoming more pronounced in my throat. And with all those notes he also documents how my attitude changes each day. How I go from begging to not be experimented on, trying to convince myself I like being a woman to slowly realising that the changes do feel good. I stand taller, smile more, look more comfortable in my own skin.

I no longer fight the weekly injections. In fact, I begin to look forward to them. The mad scientist starts to leave the cellar door unlocked, stops strapping me down onto the medical table, lets me wander around his house, knowing I don’t want to leave anymore. He brings me clothes so that I can dress exactly as any good gentleman in polite Victorian society should, abandoning the corsets and petticoats for morning suits and day vests. He brings me a razor with which to groom my unruly beard and helps me cut my hair into a more suitable style for a young dandy such as myself.

By the time he wants to test out the first of many surgeries on me, I practically leap onto the medical table - the sight of syringes, forceps and surgeon’s knives doesn’t frighten me anymore. It excites me. I’m practically begging him to operate on my chest, to finally sculpt it into the image of a man, and to let me see, no matter how painful the operation will be. I want to see me becoming who I really am in real time. The mad scientist can only smile as he obliges. He already knows his experiment to match a disconnected body and soul shall be a success.

[anachronisticmech]

‘We make toasts with / acetaminophen bought in bulk. Kiss in the airport / terminal through surgical masks.“

-sick4sick, torrin a. greathouse

[ID: A digital drawing of Jon and Martin standing next to and looking lovingly to each other. Jon is a fat, shorter, Bengali, transfemine person with a beard and moustache and long wavy hair that is dark brown and greying. She is very hairy all over, and has scars on her neck, arm, hand, finger, chest, stomach, and leg. She has a bit of top growth, and no signs of bottom surgery. She wears a purple lace, cropped singlet with glasses hanging from the neckline, black feminine underwear, and blue slippers. She is holding a wooden tray with two mugs, a slip of pills, and an orange pill bottle. An ng tube goes into her left nostril, with the iv stand and bag behind her and Martin.

Martin is a fat, taller, Colombian-Polish, transmasculine man with a beard and moustache and mid-length wavy hair that is dark brown, white and greying. He has vitiligo, with patches of pale skin and white hair, pink and red rashes from lupus, and is hairy all over. He wears a grey, fading Garfield shirt, long, fading blue and white striped pyjama pants, and pink and white socks. And square glasses. He is holding a purple bound and his black cane.

In the background the poem ‘sick4sick’ by Torrin a. Greathouse is written in running writing. ID END.]

Read ‘Toasts with Acetaminophen’ here

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ Good boy. ❞

Touya Todoroki x ftm!reader x Tomura Shigaraki x Taishiro Toyomitsu x ftm!Shota Aizawa x ftm!Keigo Takami | AU, Dabi & Tomura works as a body piercer & tattoo artist. Taishiro and Shota work as college professors | nsfw, smut, p**n with plot | vers. bttm. reader | wc: 8.7K | NOT PROOFREAD

warnings: most likely inaccurate description of getting pierced, D/S dynamics, T4T (Shota Aizawa x r! x Takami Keigo), infinity collar (Keigo Takami), markings, blowjobs, handjobs, anal sex, orgy, minor daddy kink, overstimulation, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick though), squirting, Aizawa has had top and bottom surgery, Keigo has had top surgery and bottom growth

masterlist: pt1; pt2; pt3

authors note: this is for @thatone1diot and @kaycesspade! I could not resist writing more for these horny idiots! * song on repeat when writing this: sugar by sleep token & LA FAMA by ROSALiA ft. The Weeknd

Oh fuck.

Taishiro, with those warm honey eyes, catches the apprehension on your face. He lifts a hand, his smile soft and dimples filled with nothing but kindness; "There's really no need for that. The offer is really cool and all but, we're practically strangers, so there's no need for — " Tomura scoffs as he folds his arms across his chest.

"Strangers? You put your dick into our boy, wouldn't think that counts as something strangers do," he snaps out. Dabi is slipping a hand into your back pocket, the other reaching for the back of Tomura's neck.

"Alright, alright. Nobody is a fan of the fivesome. No need to get all macho about it," Dabi said. Taishiro offers an apologetic grin that makes your lips pursed. "It's fine, really," you pull away from your boyfriends — they watch with cocked brows — and stand between the duos. "It wasn't offensive, it was just a lame joke Dabi likes to make." Dabi didn't think his jokes were lame, his frown reflects his thoughts but you elect to ignore it as you turn to face Taishiro and Shota. Out of the club, they're dressed so...handsomely. You suppose they could be wearing nothing but a potato sack and still make you salivate but it was nice to see their personal styles.

Shota was wearing a black turtleneck that was tight in all the right places, his coat hung over his arm and sleeves rolled up to show the dark ink on his cool-toned skin. On the other hand, Taishiro is in white and creams — his button-up crisp with his coat made his skin glow. His hair slicked back showed off those mixed metals decorating his ear lobes and cartilage.

God, he was huge. Not just his tall frame but the softness of his tummy and the way his sleeves seem to struggle to hold onto all of him. Memories of that night flood in and you shouldn't be surprised at your perverted brain doing what it does but there's a sense of shame that comes.

"A - anyways, what brings you two here?" Shota gives a glance over your shoulder, you wonder where he got that facial scar. Your thighs tickle in memory of his beard, before he answers.

"A friend recommended the place." You nodded and motioned for them to go towards the glass counter. Tomura huffs behind you but follows you as well. There were several other tattoos and piercing parlors around here. It was just the area for it. Still, Villain's Hideout was a crowd favorite for its beautiful tattoos along with their masterful piercing techniques.

"You're getting a tattoo?" You wonder, grabbing the store's iPad and peeking at Shota through your lashes. He shakes his head, stroking over the curved cartilage of his ear.

"A piercing. Helix." He wonders why your eyes sparkle. Shota watches the silent exchange between you and Tomura with mild interest.

"...Would you be willing to get pierced by him?" Tomura says after a quick exhale. Shota pinches his brows.

"Is he trained to pierce people?" You nod enthusiastically and it reminds him of the night you were downing tequila shots with ease whilst leaning against the bar with a giant grin; looking oh-so handsome when you glanced back at him with a wink.

He isn't sure if that memory helped his confidence in your ability to stab a needle through him, but he nodded either way.

"I don't see why not, if I die at least you'll know who to sue, Taishiro." The joke manages to wring a chuckle from your lips. It loosens your boyfriends shoulders. You hope it’ll be an indication that things can goo by smoothly between everyone today. There really was no need for any drama — you’ve had your fill with the months leading up to the three of you finally making it official. You’ve earned some peace in this lifetime.

Dabi's usual spot is too much of a squeeze for everyone. So you're in Tomura's; it's more spacious, less private.

"So, are you guys a couple?" Dabi is sitting on the swivel chairs, watching you idly as you and Tomura set and sanitize things up. Taishiro smiles, putting his phone away after he had taken a photo of Shota sat on the chair. "We're colleagues, actually." Dabi scoffs, inching in closer to them before Tomura can wheel him back.

"At like a BDSM club or something? Seem pretty coordinated. Is it an open relationship kinda deal?"

"You're so interested, I'm almost flustered," Shota drawls out. "We're coworkers who fuck each other with no romantic aspects in our relationship."

Shota isn't usually so open about himself and his private life. Although because he ate you out with Taishiro's dick in your cunt, he supposes he should offer your boyfriends some courtesy.

"Hm, fair enough." Dabi says with a shrug. Taishiro finds it befuddling how casually Dabi seemed to ‘approve’ of their status. It was a bit strange, but he seemed like the eclectic type anyways.

Enigmatic? Was that a nicer description?

Tomura hooks the toe-point of his boots to the steel bars of the swivel chair and tugs Dabi back. "You got it, babe?" Tomura murmurs. You nod, humming along as you recount the steps in your head.

"Will Shota be your first?" Taishiro wonders as you turn around. Tomura snickers but a quick elbow from you silences it into a pleased grin. "No, I pierced Dabi's ears before and did Tomura's lip piercing. A few lobe piercings too!"

"He's good, we taught him everything he needs to know," Tomura holds the back of your nape, twisting your head to place a quick kiss on your lips.

"Isn't that right, baby?"

That look is still in his eyes. That possessiveness from the night in the club. His vermillion eyes are hooded with a desire that's entirely out of place. Still — your cheeks warm from the public display and irritation is beginning to show in the twitch of your brows.

"Yeah," you reply, darting your eyes elsewhere which makes Tomura's moisturized — you've made it a habit to do it for him for his sake — lips stretch. Dabi gives you the chair he'd been sitting on and you're unaware of the heavy gazes of the other men in the room.

That night of passion, unfiltered and raw and rough; your bedroom eyes from across the room that made embers of lust roar into a flame. Shota and Taishiro had come to the club to get drunk after a particularly harrowing round of marking their students exam papers. They had no intention of visiting the private rooms above despite the club owner excitedly informing them he had saved one just for them.

"Hizashi, we're only here for the drinks. Not the boys," Taishiro chuckles out, cheeks red and lips sweet from the drinks Hizashi had so graciously poured into his mouth. Straight from the bottle, standing over him while he was sitting on the couch. Shota was chugging the rest of it down after he had tapped the blonde's side for mercy.

"Really?" Hizashi scoffed. "You come to a club called Boy Toys for the drinks? Don't even wanna get your tips wet? You're fucking with me!" Taishiro whines when Hizashi slings an arm around his neck, forcing him to lean down a bit. "Your pretty little blonde pet still busy?" Shota sighs as the last drop trails down his chin, wiping it away with the back of his hand and placing the bottle down.

"When he isn't, we should arrange another play session! The both of you made him so good at eating ass out! My ass still has ghostly sensations!"

See? Absolutely no intention of finding someone to fuck. Until you bumped into him at the bar — tequila shots — and suddenly he just couldn't keep his eyes off of you. Taishiro's interests were obviously piqued because of Shota's and then, well....

You remember what happened next, don't you?

Stumbling into the private room, Shota's talented mouth working you open and Taishiro’s cock splitting you open...

“Ready?” Shota nods and you murmur a thank you as you reach for the alcohol swabs. Wordlessly, Shota brushes his long bangs back and into a ponytail, revealing the streaks of white hairs he has and Dabi blinks as he spots the way your fingers wrinkle the poor swab.

Shota straightens his back and you carefully feel the spot. He wanted it higher, a quick touch to the curve of his ear tells you it’s because of space as you felt the dips of his other piercings. Shota focused his gaze on anything but you; staring at the floor and his lap. Unintentionally catching the sliver of skin the oversized shirt collar shows him.

You’re marked up. That doesn’t surprise him. It’s the amount of marks that do. If it wasn’t the hickeys, it was the traces of what was probably a collar. Shota holds himself back from commenting on it. It wasn’t his place to tell you there were nicer, padded, collars that won’t leave such marks on your skin. Even if he was dying to ask if you have any moisturizer or gel to soothe it.

The coolness of the wet pad cleaning the spot feel numbed out for him. If he could muster anymore attention to anything but the remnants of sex on your body, he'd applaud you for how thoroughly you're sanitizing the area and how steady your fingers are as you mark the spot.

A mirror breaks his train of thought and his wide eyes blink back at himself.

“What do you think?” Shota focuses on the mark, clearing his throat. This was not appropriate. The situation was unusual but his behaviour was entirely inappropriate. Dabi stands behind you, bending at the waist as he regards the placement. The sight of him makes Shota’s interest pique despite his moral protests.

Dabi had offered — No! It was an awful joke! That’s all!

“I like it,” Shota nearly strains out. Seeing your lips curl proudly only fuels his guilt. And lust. “Good job, baby,” Dabi presses a kiss to the side of your temple and his hands squeeze your nape once again.

It must be a comforting touch for you. Twice now it’s done and each time, both Taishiro and Shota note how your eyelids flutter. Threatening to close but being kept open through sheer will and — if your reproachful glare to them is of any indication — slight embarrassment.

Bit too late for that now if they’re being completely honest.

“D’you need me to hold your hand, Shota?” Taishiro teases from his side. Shota snorts, tilting his head as he looks down at Taishiro. “You’ll be the one squeezing my hand until it breaks if I do that. So no.”

“Big guys a scaredy cat?” Tomura is staying in his corner. Content as he watches you prepare the jewellery for Shota from a distance. Dabi is hovering and you’re tempted to elbow him too if it weren’t for the grip he had on your waist.

“Hah, not really,” Taishiro snorts, “Shota’s just teasing. He’s the more edgy one compared to me.” Tomura’s brows raise at that.

“I just like poking fun at him,” Taishiro adds.

At the moment, you're feeling something else poke at your behind. God, the both of them were like animals in heat. There's a pinch of amusement at this but you push it down. Dabi and Tomura laugh along to Taishiro's words — they were little shitheads too. Taishiro was just in nicer packaging.

He was so big. The mere memory of him makes your dick twitch. What did his parents feed him to make his body so perfect?

You chastise yourself in your head. Bad enough your boyfriends already have some weird beef with these DILF's, you cannot be calling them DILF's in your head and lust over them. You were a whore but you weren't an adulterous whore!

You pick up your piercing instruments, tilting your head to switch gears from horny fantasies to a more professional mindset. Dabi's boner can wait.

The gloves are making his thoughts run wild. Feeling you but not all of you, the pressure of your touch and the concentrated scrunch between your brows are making him feel like a teenager.

Was that just the effect you had? Making queer men go stupid after one taste of you?

It's like some sort of supernatural power. A mutation or a quirk, hes's sure of it. Because Shota was not some horny dog that ran after any pretty boy, especially not ones who were already in a relationship. These emotions of rabidness was not meant for someone like him, it was meant for his student not him. He had a goddamn tenure.

Shota tenses as the sharp tip of a hollow needle presses onto his skin. He dares to flick his eyes upwards and he instantly regrets it. You look at him and that memory of the night he met you flashes again.

"Deep breathe in."

He can definitely do that.

His shoulders raise and drop. The needle pierces through with a sharp yet familiar sting. It’s soothing. The rush is minuscule but it’s the exact pinch he needs to rid his filthy thoughts of you. Shota is impressed with how smoothly your motions are. You’ve clearly got the routine down. Hands steady as you slip the hoop through his flesh and gently fix the jewellery. Dabi is still behind you, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed while Tomura is sneaking a video of your process.

You nod, backing away with a proud grin. It’s Dabi’s cue to inspect the product and Tomura holds up a mirror for Shota.

“Looks great,” Dabi’s praise practically makes you bounce off the balls of your feet. Taishiro approaches, so Shota turns his head for him to get a look. It was perfect. The placement was exactly where he wanted it to be and there was no blood spilt —

Why is this making his craving for you heighten?

The payment process that follows is oddly methodical. Taishiro likened it to a mechanical process. The air was so thick with sexual tension despite the inappropriateness of the entire situation. Or perhaps, because of the inappropriate situation. The blonde’s cheeks were red and all that was shared was just heavy gazes, coy questions and teasing.

It ends so abruptly. He kneads at his neck, as if physically feeling the effects of whiplash instead of metaphorically. Shota bids you and your boyfriends, thanking you for the piercing and Taishiro offers a polite nod and grin. The door closes behind them and they both walk in silence for a minute or two.

“...He’d honestly love the three of them,” Taishiro casually mentions. “Didn’t he say he wanted a new piercing?”

Shota and him exchange a look. Taishiro then slips his phone out and begins texting their obedient little pet. They did promise him a good surprise for when he returned from his trip overseas — new playmates sounds perfect. They were already on some thin ice with Tomura, Taishiro thinks. Their pet would be an olive branch, an offer of peace, so to speak.

Toga and Spinner tilt their heads at the closed store. She rattles the front door with a quizzical expression while Spinner is balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder, rummaging his pockets upon pockets of his pants for the keys. Twice was keeping "lookout" behind them while he held the canned drinks they got from the grocery store a train ride away.

"Spinner, are you messing with us?" Toga pouts. Thankfully, the weather was cool and breezy. But it wasn't exactly good for business for them to be loitering in front of their own store. They looked dumb too, Twice whined out at some point.

"We look like losers!" the taller of the three huffs.

"Give me a goddamn second! I know I brought the keys with me, okay?" Spinner hisses out. Toga and Twice watch on, unimpressed.

The rattling of the door makes him shiver. That's what he'd say if you asked. It was your tongue and tongue piercing but telling you that would just make you way too smug about your headgame. Tomura's spot was hidden away by a wooden divider, the dark red colour of it popping out brightly against the cooler tones of the shop. Dabi's spot was a small room with one door tucked in the hallway at the back of the store.

Tomura's spot was a corner. Not a room, no door.

The only thing separating it from the front area was that wooden divider and some big plants whose leaves needed a wipe down.

Fucking in Tomura's spot is always a rush considering how the shops front is basically a fish tank. That, and the CCTV in the corner provides Tomura — and Dabi and you — with grainy, noir-esque, replays.

Tomura knows Spinner doesn't have the keys. He left his fanny pack — or as he calls it, his Utility Belt — behind the glass counter. He thinks that deserves a bit of punishment and ignores his buzzing phone while you're working on his cock. He half-regrets teaching you how to use that damn barbell piercing. It flicks under head, dragging itself up to his slit and Tomura curses as you grin.

"I'll cum all over your face if you keep teasing me," he warns.

"Hm, promise, baby?" you push your lips out, relishing in the salty taste of his precum while he tosses his head back. Dabi watches from the side, sitting on the same spot Shota had been on, while he looked at the stores iPad.

His dick was so hard and begging to be let out from his pants. His usual impatience's was not present in this romp. It couldn't have been from their three dumbass apprentices outside the door. He relishes in peoples — small — sufferings.

You roll your eyes internally at him brooding. Focusing on Tomura as you squeeze his dick just how he likes it. The contrast of your hold, wet, tongue and that cold, smooth, piercing — the swelled tongue and soft food diet you had to go through was worth it. Tomura was close, you could feel the way he's twitching in your mouth and you pull back with just the slightest hint of teeth.

It makes him grunt, gripping the back of your head in warning and you flutter your eyes closed to simply avoid looking at him.

"Fuckin' brat." He wasn't wrong. It wasn't his lose. He liked you like that way.

You take him into your mouth again, humming, and Tomura hates how good it feels. The incessant buzzing is making Dabi's eye twitch and so he crouches next to you to reach into Tomura's pants. You ignore him completely while he answers the call, simply going further down on Tomura.

"Shit — !"

"Yo, Spinner. What's up?" Dabi moves to stand behind you as he boxes you between him and Tomura. He guides Tomura's hand to his crotch, and he stifles the moan in his throat as he feels it jump from underneath the layers.

"Are you guys in the store?" Spinner sounds hopeful.

Dabi almost feels bad for them...

"Nah, we headed out to buy some food. There's no appointments until later today. You want anything to eat?"

Tomura manages to whip his dick out and you felt it tap the back of your head. Pulling away, you wipe the spit away from your lips as you look at Dabi in disbelief.

"What the fuck is your problem?" you mouth at him.

Tomura chuckles, pushing himself off the wall and closing in on you.

"What the fuck's your problem?" you hiss.

He simply gestures to their dicks and you sit back on your calves in disbelief.

"Well, ah, no...we're at the store and I kinda..." Spinner trails off.

"Yeah?" Dabi caresses your ear, trailing his touch down to your chin. That wavering glare on your face...fuck, nothing gets him harder. His cock twitches again and you curse out the both of them as you jerk them both off.

"I left my keys inside the store," Spinner admits with a sigh.

"Seriously?" Dabi laughs when you leave petty kitten licks along his cock.

"Man, I swear I thought I got it on me before I left," He elects to ignore Toga whispering/hissing at him that she told him so to instead strain his ears to hear his bosses response.

"You gotta do better than that," Tomura says. It makes Spinner's shoulders droop; "I know, man. I'll double check before we leave next time."

"Yeah, that's good," Tomura praises as you spit onto his dick, the friction alleviating.

"Yeah, so, where are you guys eating at?"

"What?" Dabi sighs when you bring both of their tips together, kissing them while your hands jerk them both.

"Uh, said you were at eating lunch?"

"Shit, yeah," Tomura groans when you take his dick in again. Dabi clenches his jaw when you cup his balls and squeeze them gently. He wonders for a moment if you did the same with that Taishiro and Shota that night. It tightens his expression into a sour one.

"Huh?" Spinner's voice pulls him away.

"We took Tomura's car. Might take awhile. Why don't you guys chill out at that cafe nearby," Dabi bites out.

"Uh — Oh —"

The line is disconnected.

"'Kay...?"

The air is biting. Despite the layers he has on him. The tropical temperatures had spoiled him and his winter coats were annoyingly heavy as they pressed against his body — his shoulders feeling particularly heavy. Winter was just horrible, really. Other then the hot drinks and using it as an excuse to find a body to curl up with.

There was also the added bonus of covering up and hiding your face too. This time, without the humidity of a facemask during a warm day.

Keigo lets the pros and cons of snow flurry in his mind as his long legs guide him to The Villains Hideout. This side of town had a less intimidating aura when everyone was bundled up. It made him chuckle from behind his neck scarf. These tatted up men and women just looked like emo grandma's — those titanium piercings must be frigid.

He stops in front of the store and spots a few people gathered around a glass coffee table and low couch, the neon words hung above the couch shining a comforting yellow as all of them share a laugh.

Keigo presses on, the door sensor going off and immediately turning heads.

You honestly hadn't expected to get any customers. It wasn't a snow storm, but the streets were somewhat bare. Toga and Twice greet the bundled up man, standing as they held onto their warm mugs of tea/coffee. Dabi and you sat next to each other and instantly noticed the clothes he wore.

They were branded. Expensive. New.

The both of you shared a glance.

Tomura briefly mentioned of Dabi coming from a pretty affluential yet shitty family. You weren't sure if you should feel glad you were right about Dabi having parental issues, but it explained a lot. You leaned into Tomura to flutter your lashes up at him and he deliberately stands to ignore you.

"I didn't make an appointment. I hope that's okay," Spinner's ears twitch. That tone of voice. Where has he heard it before?

"Oh, sure. That's cool. You in here for ink or for piercings?" Toga takes a page out of your book and blinks rapidly. She's been dying to stab someone a million times with her needles. Tomura would tell her to stop saying it like that, but he finds it too amusing to do so.

Keigo approaches the counter after offering everyone else a polite nod. With his back to the waiting area, the four of you — Dabi, Spinner, Twice, and you — shamelessly eye him from top to bottom. When he removes the beanie, Spinner nearly jumps into the air.

"Holy shit," he slams a palm onto Twice's knee. The man flinches, bewildered. You're still squinting, leaning back into Dabi's shoulders as you sip on your drink. "What? Ya' know him?" Dabi is acting like the man isn't a feet away from him. You elbow him to remind him to keep his volume into a whisper.

"That's Takami Keigo. The model."

"Whoah? Really!?" Twice is smacked on his shoulder by Spinner, making him yelp.

Tomura offers Keigo a lipless, pursed, smile at the commotion behind him. "Don't mind 'em. They're fucking dumbasses," Keigo laughs. It's practiced. Something you'd hear from a guest during some late night show.

"Nah, it's alright." Takami Keigo, model. He was easy on the eyes. Strong brows, deep double eyelid crease and a nice curve to his nose. Tomura can see why he's plastered on nearly every mens magazine and interviewed for the womens magazines. He wasn't much a gossip — everyone in the store would disagree — but Tomura is active online.

Takami was private. He had interviews and posted semi-actively on his social media accounts, sure. But outside of what he allowed to be known, he was practically a hermit crab.

"So, piercing?" Toga hides her disappoint as Takami nods. He had nice lobe piercings but nothing too unconventional. Comes with the profession, Tomura supposes. Your body is no longer really yours.

"Is it okay if we discuss this in a more private setting?" Takami was straightforward. Yet, the tone he said it in just makes you loosen up. It's those honey coloured eyes.

Or maybe Tomura was just gay.

Toga and him share a glance but he nods and motions for Takami to the hallway. Dabi cocks a brow as Tomura curls his finger for him to come hither. He cocks his brow again when you're suddenly standing with him.

"What? I just wanna get more experience," you defended.

"D'you have some sort of piercing fetish? You do know it's illegal to make people unknowillingly participate in your kinks, right?" Dabi swings an arm around your shoulders to catch your head between his bicep and chest, smiling at your grunt as he messes with your hair.

It simultaneously irritates you and soothes you.

Curse him and his delicious muscle mass.

Takami is dressed down now. His goose-feathered padded jacket, and branded beanie neatly folded over a chair in the corner. You pause in the doorway. Dabi slips past you and Takami eyes him for a moment then you.

You smile and lean against the doorway, curling one leg over your ankle as your boyfriends prepared the consent form.

"It's pretty straightforward," Tomura says, "honestly though, doing it while it's cold out isn't the best choice."

"Hah, I know, I know," he waves a hand around and tugs at his cashmere scarf, "I meant to do it when it was warmer but I've never gotten around to it. Might as well bite the bullet and just get it over it. No shirtless photoshoots during winter either."

Takami pauses for a moment then ping-pongs his eyes between the three of you once again.

"Actually, uh. Like I said, my friends told me about this place. They mentioned a (Y/N)."

Your name sounded pretty coming from him. It made blood rush to your cheeks and you straightened up considerably.

"Me?"

You're hot. You, and your boyfriends. Keigo can see why Shota and Taishiro told him about you. Though he hasn't exactly understood the whole kink vibe they were talking about. Polyamory wasn't kinky — just a relationship dynamic. He knew his dominants knew that better than anyone, so Keigo just nodded and waited for it to unfold.

He trusted his doms and their choices, but he did appreciate them giving him a chance to scope the scene, so to speak. The three of you were strangers after all, to him and his dominants. Plus, they didn't even know if you'd be down for mingling private parts as a group.

"I heard you're good at what you do," Takami tilts his head, leaning back on his hands on the bench. A husky laugh erupts from the dark-haired man. The iPad is dwarfed as his long fingers as he precariously holds it like a tray over his shoulder, his other hand cupping his elbow.

"He's good, but he isn't ready for a nipple piercing. Not yet."

"But he'll be more than happy to watch."

Ah. There it was. Introduced to him with such a charming smirk. It's entirely wolf-like. You nod eagerly, eyes twinkling as you settle next to Tomura. Instantly, he reaches to wrap an arm around your waist. His usually cold fingers were warm from the hot mug of tea and you relished in it as he 'sneakily' slipped them up your sweater. It was casual PDA, perhaps a bit too much in a closed room, but Keigo didn't mind. He signed the consent form, ignoring the slow drips of fire down south.

Dabi looked over the consent form once it was signed. "Hope you don't mind taking off your shirt in front of people," the jokes makes Takami chuckle. He reaches for the hem of his sweater and pulls up.

It glints in the light, catching your eye instantly. Takami folds his clothes on his lap and sets it aside. It's titanium, looking like a complete circle with no ridges or bumps. There didn't seem to be any sight of a way to unclasp it, other then a thin — barely noticeable — slit. It rests comfortably around his neck, not tight enough to be a choker and instead demurely laying on his collarbone. Tomura instantly recognizes it, while you were intrigued. Dabi sets everything up, knowing one of you would ask.

"Nice collar," Tomura's words make Takami...bashful. His lips curl into an appreciative grin and you're prompted to ask; "What is it for?"

"It's an infinity collar, (Y/N)." Your boyfriend answers, Takami nods in confirmation. Takami strokes the front of it, his wine-red polished nails looking oh-so-pretty.

“It’s different for every dynamic, but my doms and I enjoy the permanent collar aspect. It’s soothing in a sense. Plus, it looks good on me.”

“Anything looks good on you, you’re a model,” you say light-heartedly. His laugh is airy this time, less talk show and more casual. “So, it’s an ownership thing?” Dabi slides over the cart of instruments. “For us, yeah. We’re busy people and it’s just a nice reminder outside of our scenes.” He lands his sights on you and Tomura, contemplating for a brief second.

"You've actually met my doms before. Aizawa and Taishiro."

You cough. A shoulder jerking, curling over, coughing fit kinda cough. Tomura rubs your back, using your surprise as a way to hide his. It’s been a couple of weeks since that encounter. Other than Dabi’s possessive scenes and dissuading Tomura from stalking their socials, you’d almost forgotten all about them.

"They have a thing for pretty boys, don't they?" Dabi’s smooth with his reply. Shitty bastard. You find your composure. Extremely glad that you weren’t gulping down any water at that moment. Jesus, talk about a small world. Your boycunt and asscheeks still ache from your boyfriend's bout of possessive sex.

Takami smirks. Those golden eyes look at you again, swallowing you up.

"Guess they do, but to be fair — you three made quite the impression."

“These two were bizarre, I’m sure Sho — your doms were just being nice.” Nice recovery, Tomura thinks with a small scoff. You were glad to know they didn’t think you and your boyfriends were complete weirdos, finally, you could sleep easier at night.

“Don’t listen to him. (Y/N) is just embarrassed we fucked him in the hallway while your old men were listening in,” Dabi motions for him to sit up straight, placing his hand on Takami's chest.

“Oh, they weren’t just listening,” Takami replies.

You’re dreaming. You’ve had some pretty sexy dreams before, this must be one of those extremely realistic ones. Tomura is going to wake you up with his fingers inside of you while Dabi’s licking at your chest because of how you were moaning at this dream orgy. Yeah, that’s it.

There is no fucking way this just falls onto your lap.

Takami's collar glints, the light catching your eye and you feel envious. That must be nice, that nice weight on the base of your neck as a constant reminder. You could definitely plan an outfit that’d go with it.

“My doms and I, we’ve been humouring the idea of an orgy. They seem very interested in the three of you and I wanted nipple piercings. One stone, six birds.”

Dabi and Tomura don’t even need to land their sights on you to know you’re wide-eyed and expecting. Threesomes were their wheelhouse; orgies? That takes a bit more coordination, trust, discussions, and condoms — Oh god, so many more condoms.

“You don’t have to answer right away,” Takami assures with a wave of his hand. “Just a suggestion. I don’t want you to be trembling while piercing me.”

“They’re still sensitive after your top surgery?” Dabi is pleasantly surprised by his nod. “Not as sensitive as they used to be but I’m grateful the old doctor who did it still had it in him to preserve them.”

His chest was the envy of all men. Firm and filled out, the scars he had nearly all the way gone. Still, you wonder if he’d enjoy the sight of you licking them and telling him how sexy he was.

Tomura squeezes you again. As if he knows the filthy thoughts your brain is conjuring.

Dabi warns Takami about the pinch he’d feel. “You honestly don’t feel the first one at all, the adrenaline helps. The second nipple is going to hurt a bit more, need anything to squeeze, Takami?”

“Call me Keigo, please. I offered all of you to get into an orgy with me, might as well get into the first name basis.”

Keigo calls out your name and Tomura’s. He holds out a hand and you slip yours in while Tomura stands by his legs, placing his hold there. Keigo’s not sure if this will turn into a new fixation but seeing three handsome men stare down at him was making his crotch feel all sorts of things.

Primarily, it’s feeling the urge to be used, but Keigo’s a good boy.

A very good boy.

You, on the other hand, are not. Keigo was a messenger with gold wings and you were raised right, dammit. A guest should not leave with nothing — ignoring the fact he is getting a piercing — and so you lean down and brush the hair away from his face.

His eyes widen as how close your face is. This is familiar. Your first encounter with Dabi flashes through your mind and you smile as you cup his face.

“A distraction great for piercings. Need one?”

“Or two?” Tomura’s hands are resting on his knees now.

Dabi shakes his head as he laughs under his breath. What else did Keigo expect, offering such a scandalous proposition to you? He supposes he deserves this and, really, he should get to know you three to some degree.

Just to test the chemistry.

“I’m not allowed to cum,” he says as Tomura’s hands travel to his thighs. You coo as you tease him with your lips hovering over his. Your grip on his hand loosens and tightens, mimicking his racing heart. His throat is closing up like it always does, but Keigo pushes through to speak.

“But I’m allowed to make three of you cum.”

“Tell us your colours when you need to,” Dabi reminds him as he sanitizes the piercing spot. “That means, no kissing, (Y/N).”

Keigo and you turn to look at Dabi, eyebrows furrowed in despair. He simply stares ahead.

“It isn’t fair that Keigo’s the only one with rules. You’re not allowed to kiss him, Tomura’s not allowed to suck his dick —”

“What the fuck!?”

“And I’m not allowed to participate. I’ll just watch.”

Tomura is aghast. Bewildered. Shocked. Bamboozled.

Him? Shigaraki “I Give The Best Head” Tomura, not allowed to go down on a man’s penis?

He wants to smack Dabi but the man is prepping to pierce and Keigo needs a distraction. Dabi doesn’t need to open his stupid fucking mouth, but Tomura connects their gazes and he knows what that raised brow means.

‘Can’t get someone off with your fingers? Lame.’

Dabi is lucky Tomura is his boyfriend.

Keigo gasps when he undoes his pants, pulling them down to his knees and squeezing the flesh of his thighs. Keigo is smooth, clean-shaven, and so soft. His cunt is warm, his cock big and twitching under the layer of his boxers and Tomura’s mouth salivates.

Dabi simply hums as Tomura cusses him out.

“That’s too bad, Keigo,” you whisper. “Tomura, his mouth is fucking amazing. You’d love it, baby.” Keigo is not even looking at his chest. Torn between your lips or Tomura’s fingers cupping his crotch.

“Fuck, what a big cock,” Tomura can feel it. It was half the length of his thumb. He so badly wants to see Keigo and your cock frotagging together. So badly wants to see it fuck into your boycunt.

The first piercing happens and you press a kiss to Keigo’s forehead while Tomura jerks him off through his boxers.

“O-oh, fuck.”

Taishiro and Shota weren’t joking. He definitely understood their point now. His half-on pants were limiting his ability to widen his legs but Tomura sees it as a non-issue. Simply providing the pretty model with his services while his thighs pin his hands between them.

“Good boy,” you murmur against his forehead. It makes Keigo’s throat close and he whines so sweetly, the sound coming out in a rumbly song that makes your eyes crinkle.

“Good boy.”

It makes Keigo whine again and Dabi fixes the jewellery in place.

“Hey, hey, no need to buck,” Tomura chides, pulling his hand away as he pins his hips down. Keigo freezes, wetting his lips as he stares at yours.

“So needy,” you purr out.

The second piercing goes through and Keigo gasps this time, tightening his hold on your hand and you soothe him with kiss on his cheek this time.

He wants to cum. The thought is shocking to Keigo. He doesn’t go against his doms, never even thinks too really. He relishes in rewards and praise.

But.

He wants to cum.

So fucking badly.

“All done, baby,” Dabi stands and Tomura fixes Keigo’s pants up. You still look down at him, like some devilish saint as you blatantly break the one rule imposed on you.

You kiss him and Keigo wants to cum.

But Keigo’s a good boy.

He takes a moment to calm down, the three of you are good at grounding him with easy-to-answer questions and squeezes to his bicep and featherlight touches to his face. When he gets his bearings, he pulls his phone out.

He wants to cum with you, (Y/N).

He’ll show you just how good he can be.

He pretends not to be excited in the taxi cab home when he realises his number was added into a groupchat with all of you.

Fuck, he needs to cum. This taxi cab is not fast enough. He needs to cum now.

Keigo appears in front of Taishiro’s home and the tall man smiles sweetly at his darling pet's flustered expression, Shota greeting him as Keigo walks in.

“Please, please, please.”

You can barely see past your nose. The blindfold across your eyes makes everything darker and fuzzier. This heightens your other senses. You can hear the shibari ropes creak as you breathe and squirm in the air. His beard tickles your thighs and your legs jerk but they don’t move. Your arms are tied behind your back, wrists bound together in a pretty pattern as Shota’s white rope digs into your chest and thighs. Being suspended in air is frightening, you feel like you’re constantly teetered on the edge.

You had no control. Completely defenceless and open. Hung from the ceiling like fresh meat.

It makes your cunt so wet, Shota’s lapping it up like a starved dog. The entire process of him tying you up has made you sink so deep into subspace it made Tomura fully intrigued. The sight of your body going lax as the ropes applied pressure. The sighs of pleasure you let out despite not being touched in any sexual manner.

Tomura has never been interested in shibari before but if he gets to see you like this again, he might talk to Shota way more often for tips.

Fuck, the white rope against your (S/C) skin made him so hard. The sheen of sweat against your skin, running down the curve of your back and thighs — Keigo gags on his dick and Tomura groans out his appreciation. Taishiro chuckles as he guides Keigo’s head up and down Tomura’s member.

“Easy, doll. Relax your throat,” Taishiro reaches under Keigo’s jaw and Dabi feels particularly empty as he sees the way the big man’s cock chubs up. Taishiro can feel Tomura’s dick in Keigo’s throat and he keeps the blonde boy snuggly against his pelvis, when Keigo begins to choke he carefully pulls his head back. Keigo coughs, lips shining with spit as he sticks his tongue out.

Keigo is quiet, Shota tells them. Though he is a confident man on camera — and off — when it comes to intimate moments, Keigo is quiet. He simply prefers to be, to just get lost in the feelings of pleasure. Taishiro told them Keigo will be a bit shy at first is all, that he’ll warm up soon enough.

Soon is now. He’s whining again, looking at the three men in slight distress. “What is it, doll? What do you need?” Taishiro strokes through his hair and Keigo twists his head to look at you.

Fuck. Look at you.

You’re sucking in a breath, back arching as your toes curl from Shota’s talented mouth. Your fingers are indecisive. One second clutching the air and the next, letting go. You’re tossing your head to the side, mouth open as your chest heaves up and down.

The lights in the room make your skin look good enough to eat. You’re a filthy angel caught in the net of a demon named Shota. He’s kneeled as he tastes you, his hair tied into a bun and so deliciously salt-and-peppery it makes Dabi grab at his dick.

Shota’s beard is soaked and you’re losing your mind in the best way possible. They can tell you’rs about cum. They can see it in the vein that threatens to jump out from your neck and the way you’re trying so hard to form sentences but your tongue is like lead and you’re simply saying; please.

Over and over again.

Taishiro tears his eyes away as Keigo paws at his thighs.

He desperately wants to fuck you. Taishiro stifles a laugh, walking past Keigo to sit between Tomura and Dabi, arching a brow as Dabi casually leans down to stroke his thick dick.

“You know the rules, doll. If you wanna fuck him, you gotta ask his daddies.”

“You? Fuck our baby? Think you can even make him cum? He’s very spoiled ya’ know, he’ll whine and kick and yell if you’re not pleasing him,” Tomura says as he taps his lap. Keigo crawls to him, kissing the skin sweetly as he looks up at Tomura.

“I...I can make him cum,” he says quietly. Taishiro reaches over to ruffle Keigo’s head, scratching under his chin. “Keigo’s a very good boy. Shota and I trained him well.”

Tomura pretends to think about it. Keigo begs between his legs, pumping his cock as he kisses up the sides, splattering precum on his chin when it bumps there but not losing a beat as he kisses Tomura’s cockhead.

Shota pulls away from you when he hears footsteps. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand while you catch your breath. Keigo kneels beside him and Tomura settles behind your suspended self. He laughs wickedly when you jump from his sudden touch to your sides.

“A-asshole,” you shakily hiss out. He kisses your arm as an apology while Shota guides Keigo to your dripping cock.

You can tell the difference between them. While Shota’s technique was intent on making you last long and your orgasms gut-punchingly good. Keigo just wants to cum on his face. You squeak at his hunger.

It’s messy. So fucking messy. Your slick is on his lips, his chin, practically dripping down his neck. He uses his fingers to spread your cunt apart and when he plunges his tongue inside, you moan like a true porn star.

Tomura has a hand on Keigo’s head, reaching from behidn your torso as he guides him. Setting a pace that isn’t going to wear out your poor cunt too quickly, despite how tempting the thought of fucking your oversensitive pussy is — Tomura purposefully pushes Keigo’s face in just to hear his muffled groans and your breath hitching as his tongue deeper slips inside at the risk of Keigo losing his ability to breathe.

“Keigo! Fuh - Fuck, feels — Tuh-tuh much! Ngh!”

Keigo looks concerned for a moment but Tomura just smirks.

“Keep going, doll. He can take it. C’mon, this is what you wanted. Right?” Keigo nods and your entire body shakes as you feel an orgasm rip through you. Keigo moans as you cum all over his face, panting beneath you. His hot breath makes you lift your hips, whimpering at the stimulation despite how light it was.

Tomura slaps your cunt and you squeal.

“Just one more time, baby. Keigo’s hungry for you.”

Shota settles next to Dabi, putting him between Taishiro and himself. Dabi lifs his head away from Taishiro’s dick, jaw aching the tiniest bit before he turns to the sight of Shota’s dick. He kisses Shota, licking away you from his lips and lightly sucking on his tongue before he leans down. He kisses the top scars, enjoying the feeling of his chest hair against his face before he goes further down and takes Shota’s hard dick into his mouth.

The man sighs, threading his fingers through Dabi’s inky black hair. Taishiro and him share a kiss, groaning into it for entirely different reasons though both related to Dabi. Shota can feel him pressing just under his dick, rubbing the spot that makes him bite down on Taishiro’s lips.

“Gonna cum?” Dabi purrs, so smug at Shota’s flushed face. It disappears when Taishiro rearranges himself, pressing his crotch to Dabi’s ass.

“Hey —”

“Relax. I’m not going to fuck you. Just grind against you. You’ve got a great ass...and a hot back tattoo.” Dabi shivers as Taishiro’s large hands run down his back. Every time he breathes, the dragons on his back do too and Taishiro wants to paint it with white.

“Colour?” Taishiro asks.

“Green, baby.”

You’re set down on the bed. The air conditioning in the room making your sweat feel a bit cold and uncomfortable but that’s hard to focus on when you feel Shota spread your thighs again.

Keigo is moaning beside you. Open-mouthed gasps and raspy groans as Tomura fucks his asshole. A rule that was implemented by Keigo’s dominants. His cunt was for them and his ass was for their guests. The blindfold that was still on you made it hard to predict his next move but you feel his cock tap onto your hole and you shakily open your legs further. Shota chuckles, sliding his dick up so you feel it rub against your swollen dick.

“Fuck me, please. Just fuck me already.”

“He doesn’t say please much does he?” Dabi laughs at Shota’s comment. It gets cut off by a groan as Taishiro rims his hole, so Tomura answers for him.

“He’s a fucking brat. But we like him that way. Makes us fucking — “ Keigo yelps at a rough thrust, his strap-on slapping onto his wet stomach — “work for it.”

You feel Keigo reach for your wrist and you clasp your hands together, wishing you could see just how wrecked he was. He sounded like he was being fucked within an inch of his life. You wanted to see, but alas, you were given this blindfold because Dabi once again thought it’d only be fair that both subs got some sort of rule.

“Poor Keigo,” he said during the discussion of rules and limitations.

You wanted to punch him in his perfect face —

“Ahh! Oh- oh fuck!”

Shota is fucking you with his dick. It’s thick, stretching your poor cunt out as you squeeze around it. Though not as long, the way he moves his hips as you baring your neck as you toss your head back.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Keigo wants to kiss you. He twists his torso and you gasp into his mouth, teeth briefly clacking against the other as you made out.

“You look suh-so pretty,” Keigo whispers. You grip onto his hand.

“I wanna see you, please...ngh! Fuck, please, Keigo.”

There you go again. Tempting good Keigo into breaking rules. He seems distraught by your pleas and Tomura grips his hair. He yowls, asshole stretching as Tomura pushes in deeper.

“Shota, turn him onto his hands and knees. Need to shut our darling (Y/N) up before he corrupts your obedient doll more.”

Dabi has Taishiro pinned to the end of the bed. Fucking up into him as he watches you suck Keigo’s silicone cock. It’s truly a talent you have. Slobbering over dick despite how good someone is fucking into your pussy.

Dabi is so proud of you.

“Dabi, guh-god, those piercings,” Taishiro chokes out. “Feels good, doesn’t it, big guy?” Taishiro nods, clutching onto the already soiled bedsheets.

Keigo is going insane. You’re sucking his dick and you look so fucking good. Licking his tip, kissing the sides and taking it into your mouth. He moans with each action, entranced by how sincere your actions are. He bucks into your mouth despite Tomura not moving and thrusts into your mouth and back into Tomura completely unprompted.

Ah, he wants to see you look up at him. He can feel you moan around his dick as Shota fucks into you and he wants to see your eyes flutter and go cross eyed. Tomura laughs as Keigo wretches his hands away to rip your blindfold off.

Youre disorientated for a minute. Adjusting to the lights as you struggle to breathe through your nose.

Keigo feels shame but vindication. You’re looking up at him and fuck you’re beautiful.

“Bad boy,” Taishiro reprimands.

But Keigo doesn’t care. Because you pull away, tongue stuck out and grinning.

You looked so proud of him.

Keigo cums around Tomura’s dick, you take his cockhead into your mouth and he’s grateful as he imagines himself cumming down your throat.

You’re kissing up Keigo’s chest, stroking his sides as all of you come down. Panting and soft moans echoed through the room as aftershocks of pleasure ran through everyone's nerves.

Shota is the first to get up, but Tomura forbids it as he circles his waist and pulls back down in the mess of sweaty bodies. “Stay,” he whispers and Shota nods as he cradles Tomura’s head to his chest. Taishiro lay on Dabi’s lap, he was itching for a cigarette but he remained on the large bed just watching over everyone for a moment.

“Baby,” he whispers to Taishiro. “I’m gonna get us water, can I do that?” Taishiro appreciates the gentleness Dabi is exhibiting. He lifts his head and Dabi slips out the room to get everyone some refreshments. He places it by the bedside tables, wiping down you and Keigo.

“Want Keigo’s dick in you?” you nod at Dabi’s question, curling your leg across his hips tighter and Keigo turns to kiss your forehead.

Dabi, Shota, Tomura and Taishiro chuckle at the sight. They slowly sit up, chatting quietly whilst wiping themselves down.

“We should definitely do this again,” Dabi says whilst Tomura cleans his back. Shota leans against Taishiro’s soft front, nodding as he strokes Keigo’s back.

“I agree. I’d love to teach your brat manners.”

You huff and simply hide your face in Keigo’s neck. The blonde smiles, simply allowing you too.

“And I’d love corrupting your doll,” you reply smugly.

“So, we’re all in agreement,” Taishiro coos out.

“Fuck yeah, we are, are you kidding me?” Tomura scoffs. “There is no way this is just a one time thing. B’sides, look at those two bottoms, they’re attached already.”

“Hm,” Dabi muses. “It’d be mean to pull them away. Poor Keigo, poor (Y/N).”

Your body is protesting the thought but, fuck, you cannot wait for the next time. Keigo can feel you clench around his cock and he thinks the same as you.

[our-transmasculine-experience]

I want top surgery and a deeper voice but I don't want a beard and I want soft skin. I want to have smaller hips but keep my small waist. I want bottom growth but I want to take DHT blockers to save my hairline. I want cis people to look at me and have to guess, but guess that I must be a highly effeminate guy. I want to look like one of those AMAB transfems who are microdosing E and are glowing with happiness. Literally all of my gender feelings seem so complicated and contradictory, like I want to keep and change everything at the same time. Is this relateable to other feminine transmascs or am I losing my marbles (I feel like I'm losing my marbles)

i’ve actually had an anon with a very similar experience. there is a community out there of feminine transmascs, however i am not part of it (my blog is absolutely welcome to the fem transmascs btw, i’m just not one myself).

you aren’t alone, anon, and your experience is so valid!

[tokiwarcube]

Rinse and Repeat

You've always been warned about overindulgence -- the whole "too much of a good thing" idiom has never really left the public lexicon, much to your chagrin. But you beg to differ -- you've spent countless lazy Sundays (and Mondays, and Tuesdays, and--), and have yet to grow tired of the sight before you.

Or, in which you get high and eat Pickles out.

Trans Pickles (✅ Top Surgery, ✅Bottom growth (t-dick lovers stay winning)) / Reader (AFAB, GN).

High sex, oral sex, established relationship. This is what love is all about. 2k words -- Enjoy! <3

His chest is firm beneath your hands, a firm wall keeping your body upright even as you sway with closed eyes, fuzzy in the head and high as a kite. Your lips upturn, eyes fluttering open slowly as you allow your hands to roam just a bit more, dipping them beneath his shirt to trace over his ribs, and then his crescent-shaped scars before returning back to open air and reaching half-heartedly for the joint pinched between his fingers. He laughs, holding it just far enough out of your reach. You playfully swat for it for all of five seconds before giving up, leaning against his chest with a sigh.

“Mean.”

He bounces you in his lap, jostling a little giggle out of you as you cling to him a bit tighter. “I think you’re high enough, babe.”

“Rich, coming from you.” You grin, looping your arms around his neck and settling yourself more firmly in his lap. He’s right, all things considered — with every passing minute you feel your weighted limbs become more sluggish, thoughts bleeding together in the hazy swirl of your herbal remedy. You just like to fuck with him, really.

Growing up you were always told that overindulgence makes the exciting become mundane, that even the most enjoyable things would become boring if you did it too much. But as you swipe for the lit joint again, you find that to be a load of horseshit. You’ve spent what seems like hundreds of lazy Sundays (and Mondays, and Tuesdays, and—) just like this, and every time is just as magic as the last. Go figure.

“Don’t get mad at me cause you’re a lightweight,” he laughs, flashing his teeth in a playful bite, before he brings the lit joint to his lips, inhaling deeply — and oh, he’s so pretty like this. You take him in as best you can from your position — the faint scar that rests on his upper lip, the strong line of his jaw, the glimmering silver of his piercings, and the barely-there freckles that dot his skin. Faded from his time indoors, you’ve always compared them to distant constellations — like anyone else as stupidly in love as you might do — but in your fuzzy stupor you really start to believe it. With closed eyes he casts his head back, flicking the end of the joint as he takes the smoke deeper into his lungs. He shakes the dreads off his shoulder with the movement, and with his throat bared like this, you feel your mind’s direction start to shift. You swallow back the drool pooling in your mouth, running your hands down his chest yet again — so distracted that you hardly notice the hand coming up to cup your head, pulling your lips to rest just millimeters away from his own.

The smoke is warm in your lungs, and the action only serves to stoke the heat growing between your thighs. Your eyes flutter shut yet again as you drink the vapor from his lips greedily, taking it into the depths of your own lungs. Pause for a beat, and savor the taste — earthy, sticky, sweet — and then blow it out over your shoulder when it starts to sting. You peel your heavy eyelids open only to be met with the green eyes of your lover, pupils blown wide.

“Can I help you?” You tease.

His hands tighten from their place on your hips, rocking his own firmly into yours. Your breath hitches, the pleasure of friction multiplied tenfold in your heightened state. You rock back against him instinctively, and his lips upturn.

“Think you can, actually,” he teases back.

His mouth is on your neck not more than a second after, beard scratching against the flat of your throat familiarly. Hot breath fanning against your skin heralds the pleasurable thrum of pain that follows as he sucks a line of bruises against your neck. What few thoughts you have left in your sluggish state turn to little more than static as your mouth parts instinctively, with your hands coming to clench his biceps for support, and God, he’s warm. The heat is sweltering — a concoction of the weed, his own body, and the growing need that burns brighter and brighter with every bite to your neck and every rock of his hips. His hands start to wander too as you lose yourself to his ministrations — moving down to grip your thighs eagerly before sliding up — pushing under your shirt, taking their time to explore every patch of skin. Every micromovement lasts a lifetime, nerves awash in throes of pink at his touch — too much and not enough, all at once. Needy yet dazed, you grind against him slowly, until you find yourself driven mad with want.

“Want you,” you slur, toying with the bit of boxer waistband that peeks up over his jeans. He hums against your throat, acknowledging, but does little more than cant your head to the other side to lathe his affections on new patches of unmarked skin. You swallow back drool yet again, feeling that last extra hit flowing through your system, driving your euphoria even higher and your dexterity lower. The metal buckle of his belt is like ice against your skin, and while it’s a miracle you’re able to move at all in this state of intoxication and arousal, your clumsy hands just barely manage to unhook the latch. He braces a single hand behind him to lift his hips just enough for you to lean forward on your own knees and pull the denim down, not stopping his lazy affections despite your eagerness.

“Pickles,” you whine, finally drawing his attention to your lips. He hums, pausing his movements momentarily and shooting a brief glance upwards. You’re embarrassed at how needy you sound — heat pooling in your core as he tries to pull your hips back down to rock against his own again, but you stay firm in your wants, despite the slick dripping between your own thighs. “Want to taste you, please?”

He smiles cockily, although the red that blooms across his face betrays his fluster, as he eases himself back against the duvet slowly. He laughs quietly, and call it love, but you can’t help but giggle a little too.

“Jesus Christ,” he smiles, throwing the crook of his arm over his eyes, “You’re always so fucking eager.”

You hum, shoving his shirt upwards to trail a series of kisses along the thin line of red hair that trails down his stomach, before pressing a single firm kiss to the darkening spot on his boxers and pulling down the material. His laughter dies in his throat at the action, hissing as his glistening cunt meets the cold air. His cock stands at attention, clearly just as needy as you after what seems like a century of smoking and grinding, and you can’t help but place another lingering kiss to the head. His fingers tangle themselves in your hair soon after, but you don’t need the extra encouragement, pressing the flat of your tongue against his cock, taking it into your mouth eagerly. You swirl your tongue around the head, delighting in the pants that fall from his mouth, before easing a single finger into him. And one quickly turns to two as the hand in your hair turns more insistent, more guiding, more needy. His hips buck against your face as you press against his g-spot, drunk off your movements, and your own hips find a rhythm against the bed in turn; too aware of the heat building between your thighs, but far too intoxicated off the taste of your lover to stop and deal with it.

“Shit,” he hisses, all but riding your tongue at this point. Your eyes flutter open to gaze at him, and what a sight for sore eyes he is. Back resting against the pillows, he grips the still-burning joint loosely. His eyes are half-hooded, but his pupils have swallowed all of the green in his iris, needy and wanting. He gazes down at you, red-faced and panting, swallowing thickly when he catches your gaze. Ash drips onto the comforter when he grips the joint a bit tighter, and he shakily moves the unlit end toward his lips for another hit — the high tolerance bastard.

You watch his expression closely as he pulls from the joint, chest expanding slow. He makes smoking look like an art with how slow he pulls — and just like that he parts his lips, and lets it free. Smoke coils slowly out of his mouth, not bothering to exhale and instead letting it flow naturally. Wisps of smoke tangle their way around his fanning dreads before dissipating into the open air — it’s such a sight that you almost feel bad when you suck a bit harsher, drawing a sudden groan and subsequent sputter from his throat. You hum against his cunt — amused at his dissolving composure, but too aroused to halt your task — and reveling in the twitch of his cock against your tongue at the vibrations. He extinguishes the dying flame in the ashtray on the bedside hastily, and tightens his grip in your hair, guiding you faster against him.

He swears, casting his head back as he moves with a new urgency against your mouth. “Jesus Christ, Jesus fucking Christ, you have no goddamn idea what you do to me,” he groans. He throws his head back against the pillows, growing more incoherent by the second, which only spurs you further. Your nose bumps against his pelvis, bobbing your head along the length of his cock, and it’s not long until his thighs are clamped around your head, dick twitching against your tongue. He cums with a low, drawn out cry — muffled from the vice-grip keeping you in place, but heavenly all the same. You swirl your tongue slowly, drawing out his orgasm until he’s pulling you away from his oversensitive cock, still twitching.

You meet his eyes with a grin, climbing up a fraction to rest your head on his stomach. His disheveled form is a stark contrast to your own, and you feel a surge of pride at your ability to take him apart so effortlessly. You drag your nails up his sides, delighting in the shiver it brings. “That good, huh?”

He shoots you a half-hearted glare, but he can’t hold it for long. His eyes soften, grinning, even through the heaving of his chest as he comes down from the secondary high. “Fuck you.”

“You sure you don’t need a breather? Take five?”

“You—” he laughs. It wasn’t that funny, a simple reversal of meanings that would easily constitute for a middle-school-tier joke, but in your shared stupor, it seems like the funniest thing in the world. You laugh too, although less at your own words, and more of his own amusement. His scrunched eyes and upturned nose — beautiful as ever. But it’s not long before he’s looping his hands beneath your arms, pulling you up to be chest to chest.

He kisses you then, lapping at your lips insistently and leaving you breathless once again. You hardly even have time to reciprocate though, because he’s quickly flipping you into his own position — splayed out against the pillows as he pushes your own shirt up your body, mimicking your previous movements. A kiss placed to your ribcage — “Nah, I’m good,” he murmurs against your skin — a kiss placed to your sternum, then stomach, to the crest of your pelvis. Curious fingers hook into your waistband, pulling achingly slow, the damn tease.

“Could do this all day, actually.”

And as you gaze down upon him, pupils blown out wide with his taste still clinging to your tongue, you realize that you could say the exact same.

Yeah, whoever said that repetition makes life boring is a fucking liar.

[catboybiologist]

Hypothetically, if I wanted to transition and keep some of my masculine traits: muscles, beard, hight. How would I go about doing that?

Likewise, if I wanted to transition and keep my feminine traits how would I do that

There are HRT regimens that advertise being "in between", but unfortunately, many of them don't work well. Raloxifone treatments, I'm sorry to so, don't really do what people want them to do. If you don't know what I'm talking about, don't worry about.

As for the specific things you mentioned:

Muscles you can just train through! If you have muscle definition as a pre-HRT natal male, and you keep your training regimen, you'll likely have a similar level of definition as a physiological female. You'll lose some overall strength, but it can be compensated by hitting the gym.

Beard, your mileage may vary. HRT thins out facial hair, but doesn't eliminate it on its own. Many trans women get facial hair removal, but you don't have to! Also, any beard hair you have pre-HRT won't fall out, it'll just slow down in growth.

Height generally doesn't change more than 1-3 inches on HRT.

So in other words, just regular HRT- just don't take any specific measures to counter the traits you want to counter. If you want to do something like keep a masculine body shape in some areas, but not others, then it gets complicated.

Similary for testosterone HRT for natal females. I know transmascs who haven't gotten top surgery, and are proud of it!

[hydeingpurples]

Hey man! I always love hearing about others’ transition. I’m a trans guy myself who is just now identifying that way very recently and is navigating getting ready to start T and top surgery whenever I’m able as I am saving up. I’d love to hear about your journey and where you are now. 😊

🏳️‍⚧️ Testosterone and Top Surgery 🏳️‍⚧️ (UK) : Discovering Myself, Hormones, Top surgery, Where I Am Now

Hey buddy! I'm more than happy to tell my story so far. I'll pack as much into this post as I can, as it may be helpful to others too, so it may be a bit long, but I'll do it in sections 😊

🕵🏻 Discovering Myself 🧐

This bit was tough. I think it is for a lot of us. I knew deep down for several years that I wasn't a girl. I was terrified of the thoughts that were buzzing around my head, terrified of the things I was feeling. I buried it so deep. At university, I started to let go a bit. Friends around me came out as non-binary and trans, I figured it wasn't so bad. I experimented with pronouns and identities, and eventually I admitted to myself that I was just a guy. I came out to my family aged 21 by letter and it went really well.

Things were still a bit scary though. Trying a binder on for the first time was both exciting and daunting. It felt so freeing and right, but scary too because it meant that, maybe, I needed to get rid of my chest.

💊 Hormones 💉

Over time, the dysphoria got worse and worse. I was becoming extremely jealous of my best friend who was on testosterone (T) and features that other men had that I didn't. I struggled most with my period. At its worst, I spent hours in my flat toilet and the toilets at work crying and withering in disgust and vile discomfort. I'll never forget those feelings.

I knew I'd make it to the other end though one day because my friend had. And, fortunately, April 2023, that day came.

📝 Testosterone Prescription 😄

After jumping through a load of loopholes and sending my blood tests off, my GP/Doctor booked me an appointment. I thought it was just to talk to me about my blood tests.

I sat down and he talked to me for a bit. Nothing much, nothing special. Then, he started printing something out. He whipped it from the printer and handed me this lil slip of paper. It was a prescription letter.

You know how people say the world can stop? Or go in slow motion? That's exactly what happened. I must have spent an entire lifetime staring down in silence, in awe, at this little piece of paper. My eyes were welling up with joy. I looked at him and all I could do was thank him, over and over and over again. A great smile beamed on his face.

Upon leaving, everything was blurry. It was like I had tunnel vision. All I could see was this piece of paper. I stormed out of the building, called my Mom, and violently cried with joy.

"Slow down, I can't understand you", she said.

"I've got it. I've got it. I have a testosterone prescription!" I spluttered.

It took me a while to calm down, haha. I've never been so joyous.

🌱 Testosterone Effects Timeline 📊

⚠️Please note everyone's changes, intensity of changes, and rates of changes are different⚠️

Week 1: no voice drop, but my throat felt different; increased discharge downstairs; a little sweatier and took me longer to cool down.

Week 2-3: some hot flashes but not many; needed bigger meals.

After 1 month: period stopped (🥳); small amount of increased hair growth on legs; head hair started growing faster; more and slightly more intense hot flashes; subtle voice changes, easier to talk at my lowest level.

2 months: stamina increase, longer work time and shorter recovery time; voice slightly deeper; upper lip hair started coming through darker; increased peach fuzz hair growth on face, arms, legs, stomach, especially legs; increased spots on back.

Up to 6 months: how I felt and processed emotions changed (found it A LOT easier to process emotions, less chaotic mind); even more hair growth and a few random beard hairs; further stamina increase; my sweat and pee changed how they smelt which was weird; further voice changes; sometimes I had sudden bouts of strong hunger but not often.

Up to 12 months: increased downstairs discharge stopped; even more body hair (thicker, darker, curly), especially on legs; a few more beard hairs on chin; back spots decreased; voice a little deeper; face shape changes, boarder shoulders.

Up to 17 months (now): almost every area on my legs is hair; hair growth on butt and up butt; a few more beard hairs (that grow back pretty quick after shaving); warmer, more and longer got flashes, difficulties cooling down (I'm also extremely heat averse though so 🤷🏻); masculinising hairline (i.e receding at the front to look more masculine); much more noticeable voice changes, difficulties reaching higher tones, much easier to talk low.

Extra: I haven't experienced any bottom growth or change in libido at all. I've identified as asexual for a while now and still do, no changes at all. It's fairly common to experience bottom growth and some report a change in libido too, I just haven't 🤷🏻

🧑🏻‍⚕️ Top Surgery 😷 - double incision

I was terrified I wasn't going to get to this stage. I moved from Wales to England and both have different medical systems, so I was petrified of my surgery referral getting lost.

Fortunately, it didn't get lost. Once it was booked in, I had my consultation where I met the surgeon and her team, I was measured, told about the process and what could go wrong and what the solutions were.

Now I had a new fear: was this right? The self doubt was ridiculous. What if I regretted it? What if I hated my results?

The morning of the surgery answered these questions. My plan was that if it felt wrong on the morning, I knew I had the power to back out.

At 8:30am I was called to my surgery. I wrapped my arms around my Mom, a giant smile swallowing my face, and I said, "see you later!", and pranced down the corridor with the nurse. I was SO excited.

Going under anaesthetic was perfectly alright. It was insanely fast which I wasn't expecting. They started the anaesthetic and all I had time for was a few sentences before I was out.

🛏️ Recovery 🏥

💫I've got a big list of tips and tricks for top surgery recovery which might be best for another post because it's huge💫

Recovery actually wasn't too bad. When I woke up, the only discomfort I felt was a prickly feeling around the surgery site which they quickly sorted with painkillers. The day after anaesthetic was a bit rocky, I slept a lot and felt a bit icky, basically like a hangover. After that, all I felt was a dull aching in my abdomen for 3/4 days, otherwise no pain. I couldn't actually feel anything around my nipples or incisions, it was totally numb. The trickiest part was actually keeping myself busy so my Tourette's didn't damage the surgery site.

Once things had healed up a bit more and my stitches were out/dissolved away, I really started to appreciate my new chest. Unlike some people, I didn't have a super euphoria moment. For me, it's simply been total peace and relief since. I no longer think about my chest in any capacity. It feels natural, normal, right, and that, to me, means it was absolutely the right decision. It was what I needed.

🙋🏻 Where am I Now? 🙋🏻

It's been just over 10 months since my top surgery and my scars are fading very well. I'm very happy with the results. I've regained a substantial amount of sensation too in both my nipples and the incision scars. I've done a huge amount of scary care which I'm happy to talk about in another post so this one doesn't get any longer.

I'm fortunate enough to have had all of my records changed, I have a male passport, and I recently passed my driving test and have a full driver's license with my new name on it!

But, I think more importantly, I now feel more confident, I care about what I wear and how I look, I've found my style and what I like to wear, I look after my personal hygiene, and I feel like myself.

And that is where I am now 😊

I hope you've found this helpful in some way. There's a lot of information here. It was nice to type that story out. If you'd like anything else in more detail or have any questions, go for it!

[blood-cumandwires]

this ones just for us but

maid whos practically tiny when she starts her work, essentially a stick

she found this job by chance. some manor-owning millionaire who offered to pay for all expenses as long as she worked for him. it was the only chance she got of starting a new life.

and she got that start.

but what she didnt realize was how far it would take her,

originally, the work was exhausting. the manor was hundreds of years old, and each part of it required precise tuning to work the way she wanted it to

she worked consistantly for hours, scrubbing the floor, washing dishes, dusting... putting pipes back into place, working on her master's many cars, learning the history of the mansion...

as she worked, she grew stronger. her new, significantly fuller diet assisted in this growth, making her arms packed with fat and muscle, her stomach large, soft, but undeniably sturdy.

the insurance plan that came with this job gave them massive medical freedom; they started on testosterone to halt their periods, claiming it was the only period control they didn't mind the side effects of. they got top surgery, claiming that their breasts were in the way of their work anyway - though they couldn't remove them entirely, as so much of it was now muscle, making them still look well-endowed.

they continued wearing the somewhat stereotypical maid outfits, but occassuonally let the top fall down, revealing a white, oil-stained tank top, broadcasting how often, and hard, they worked.

he started growing a beard, and didn't bother to shave it. he got bottom surgery, reasoning that, since it was already growing anyway, he might as well help his tdick along. he grew larger, fatter, healthier.

happier.

at the end of his transition, he continued working for his master, as this was the best job he could ever have. he spent long hours cooking, cleaning, and working on the cars - his toys, his pets, as he jokingly called them.

he was happier than he ever could've dreamed of being, and nothing could stip him from taking that happiness, and sharing it with others...