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permanentlyfemale · 3 months ago

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⚠️ Feminization, Misgendering, Forced detrans kink ahead! ⚠️

Today is a scary day for you. As a trans man, finding the right therapist is far more difficult than it is for most people, especially as you weren’t looking for just a new therapist today. You also need someone to write you a top surgery letter. Although you’ve only been on T for 2 months, barely enough to notice anything besides an increased libido and clit growth, your breasts are by far your biggest source of dysphoria. You often wear two binders when you’re going anywhere, and even then, a sizable bump is visible on your chest. You’re hoping they may become easier to bind with hormones, but you already know that you’ll need surgery regardless.

“Milo Brown?” A masculine voice calls your name from across the room. Glancing up, you see a very attractive man, much taller than you, looking to be in good shape under his professional attire, but not overly muscular. His dark shoulder-length wavy hair and stubble complement his gentle, masculine face and warm brown eyes.

Surprised by the man’s beauty, you stumble on your words as you rise from your seat. “I- uh- I’m here.”

“Great! Let’s get back to my office.” He smiles warmly and gestures for you to follow him out of the waiting room and down a hallway, passing mostly empty offices on the way. This doesn’t seem too odd, as there was construction on the lower floor. Maybe some patients didn’t like the noise and cancelled? Or maybe you’re trying to distract yourself from thinking of the exceedingly attractive man that may soon be your therapist. You’ve considered yourself gay since coming out, but starting hormones has certainly made that attraction all the more apparent.

As he opens his office door, you’re surprised by how casual it is. There’s a long couch next to an armchair, with a clipboard set neatly on top. His desk is to the side, seemingly ignored while clients were present in favor of a more personal layout. Thinking of something to say as you sat on the couch, you spit out “I like your office.”

“Thank you Milo, I spent a lot of time thinking of the anatomy of the room and how to make my clients most at ease. I find this works best.” He smiles at you, his eyes gentle and enticing. “I’m Dr. Sterling, I specialize in support for LGBT and FTM clients. Nice to meet you! Tell me a but about yourself and what brings you here.”

“My name is Milo Brown, I’m 19 years old, and I just started testosterone. I’ve been out as trans for a while but finally got access to hormones and I’m hoping to get top surgery as well, but I need a letter for it. I also just need support with my dysphoria and depression.” You cross your arms over your large chest self-consciously.

“Well, that’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Can you tell me more about your dysphoria regarding your chest?”

Shifting uncomfortably in your chair, you hesitantly proceed. “Every day is awful! They’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and I go to sleep trying not to feel or think about them. They’re so big and heavy that I feel them whenever I move and it makes me so dysphoric. It’s also impossible to make myself flat, so I never pass. As a gay man, it’s so hard to find a man who would want a guy with a body like mine!”

“Oh, Milo, I think that’s very negative thinking. Plenty of men would find you attractive! I thought you were quite beautiful when I saw you myself.”

You’re surprised by his words! That sounded very flirtatious, but maybe he was just trying to boost your ego. Either way, it made the empty space between your legs tingle when he said it. You also didn’t know he was queer, but it definitely makes you more comfortable with him. “Well… that does make me feel better. I still don’t feel comfortable with my chest though.”

“Why don’t we try something? This is an exercise I’ve done with plenty of my transmasuline patients before, and it has always improved their lives and helped with dysphoria. While we do it, I can assess you for top surgery as well! How does that sound?” He smiled at you expectingly.

“Uhhh… yeah, that sounds good. What are we doing?”

“I’m just going to have you answer some questions about your body and dysphoria. This may get uncomfortable, but it’s all part of this process. I’m sure you can trust me, right?”

“Of course!” You answer instinctively.

“Right. First, I want you to take off your shirt and binder.” He instructs casually.

“What!? I thought we were just answering questions. Is that necessary?” You’re again surprised, he wasn’t a surgeon and you had never shown anyone your chest before. You didn’t want to look at it yourself, much less this beautiful man you’re expecting to see regularly!

“I understand this is surprising and uncomfortable, but I want to understand your perspective on your body, as well as assess the size and density for surgery. I need to know this for the letter, and I understand this is very important to you. I’m sorry for the discomfort, Milo.” He looked at you apologetically, his brown eyes sparkling, staring in to your soul and shooting down between your legs.

“I… okay.” What he was saying did make sense, and you would do most anything for this surgery. Resolving to just get this over with, you take off your oversized hoodie and throw it on the couch next to you. Grabbing both binders at once, you exert a herculean force squeezing yourself out, panting as your huge breasts fly out. You blush with embarrassment as a loud clap can be heard from them swinging together.

Dr. Sterling calmly walks closer to you. “Do you know your cup size?”

“Uh… no, sorry.”

“That’s alright, we can measure now.” He smiles warmly and pulls out some measuring tape. Without hesitation, he walks up to you and wraps it around your chest! He first measures your underbust before moving to measure your bust. His hands rest on your breasts as he does so. “Alright… looks like you have J cups.” His hand brushes your nipple as he backs away.

“Mmph!” Involuntarily, you let out a short, feminine moan. Both the dysphoria of knowing your overwhelming cup size and your accidental vocalization leave you embarrassed and blushing harder than ever.

“It doesn’t seem like you’ve experienced any vocal changes from testosterone.” He observes.

“Umm… not yet, no.”

“It also seems like you have quite sensitive nipples?”

“I guess…”

“Well, have you ever considered embracing your breasts?”

“Huh?” You were confused. They made you sad and dysphoric, how could you ever embrace them? He did say whatever he was doing worked for all of his other transmasc patients, but this seemed absurd.

“Your breast are way too big to bind properly. I’ve seen you wearing two binders in here, and that is not healthy. As your therapist, I can’t encourage you to damage your body in such a way, and especially without two binders, you wouldn’t be able to hide them at all anyways. And why go through the trouble of binding if everyone can tell? It might do you some good to just accept your body as it is. It’s not like whether you bind now will affect surgery.”

Unfortunately, everything he was saying made perfect sense. Even when binding, it was very obvious you had breasts. Why go through all the trouble, especially if it was hurting your body? You were dysphoric either way, might as well be more comfortable physically. “I guess… I guess you’re right.”

“Yes… unfortunately it’s also not very possible hormones could reduce them to a bindable size either.”

This devastated you. Even later on testosterone, you would have obvious breasts? How could you expect anyone to take you seriously as a man? You had hoped to begin passing in public soon, and finally begin living comfortably, but you weren’t so sure now. Would it even be safe to live as a non-passing trans man? Why were you going through so much for hormones if there was no hope of passing before surgery anyways? Maybe you should just wait until then for hormones- no one will gender you right as you are now. “Maybe… maybe I should pause testosterone until surgery then.”

“Yes, I can see why. That might be the safest option for you.” He nodded solemnly. “We can practice some exercises to reduce dysphoria until then, if you’d like.” His frown shifted in to a comforting smile.

Still upset, you nodded.

He moved closer and, before you could react, placed one hand on each perky, round breast, grabbing you by the boobs.

Surprised, you squeaked.

“This is just to get you used to your breasts. It often helps most when someone else does it, so you’re more comfortable with other people seeing them.” He gently squeezed and pulled, running his fingers along your supple breasts, warm palms pressing your hard nipples.

“Mmmmmm-! Oooh!” You let out a series of feminine wails as the doctor palms at your breasts. They were so sensitive and they felt so heavy- so wrong on your body- and yet they sent waves of pleasure throughout your curvy figure.

“Are you still going to go by Milo? I mean, you’re stopping T until surgery because you won’t be able to pass. It would be weird to only keep the name and pronouns, especially for strangers.” His hands shifted to thumb at your nipples.

Your thoughts were flooded with waves of pleasure shooting from your tits. The importance of this decision didn’t fully register, but what he was saying made sense to you. “You’re right.”

“Good girl.”

“Huhh…”

“People are going to refer to you by what you look like. You know you don’t pass. This is just exposure training, okay?”

“Okay…” You mindlessly agree as he moves his head close to your breast.

“See? You are a good girl.” He starts to suck on your nipple, causing you to throw your head back and wail in pleasure. You don’t know when his own clothes came off, but he’s getting on top of you and pulling your pants off, leaving you in just your boxers with his much larger biologically male body pinning you down, suddenly kissing your lips.

“What… what are you doing now, d-doctor…” he cuts you off as you pant your words out.

“The easiest way to adapt to and accept being seen as a woman is to have sex with a straight man, one who can use you as only male can use female. You need this, Amelia. It’s okay.”

Hearing your deadname makes you cringe with dysphoria. You’ve always felt an aversion towards it, despising the femininity it signaled. You struggle to reconcile your attraction to the doctor and trust in his methods to your current panic. This all felt good and sounded logical but it’s happening too fast to react, and these are all such big decisions, and suddenly he’s pulling your boxers off.

“Your pussy is so perfect. You make such a sexy woman.” He rubs the length of his cock along your clit and hole. The distinction between your pathetic nub and his masculine length is obvious. He gropes your massive jiggling breasts, squeezing them together and lowering his head to kiss and suck your nipples as his dick prods your entrance.

“Doctor Sterling…” You moan his name as his assault on your tits grows heavier. He sloppily makes out with your huge boobs, enjoying every second he can get drowning in your massive breasts.

He momentarily pulls his mouth from your tits. “Yes… fuck, Amelia!” He rams his hard cock all the way inside you, hitting your cervix as he moans your deadname, resuming his assault on your massive wobbling boobs all the while.

You scream and wail, unsure if it’s in pleasure or some mix of dysphoria and grief for your lost ambitions. Whatever male identity you insisted on was currently obstructed by your massive tits and the straight man enjoying them as he pounded in to your soft, tight vagina. Anyone who saw you two would know immediately that this was heterosexual sex- they would never stop to consider you could be anything but a curvy woman being held down and fucked by a handsome man. Suddenly, the doctor’s thrusts sped up. You forgot condoms, and you’re barely on T!

Right as you open your mouth, he interrupts. “I’m gonna cum, Amelia! I’m cumming inside you!” He holds himself against your cervix, comforting you as you begin to scream. “Shhh, good girl, it’s okay.”

You feel his hot cum flood in to your unprotected pussy, tears falling from your eyes. Feeling the sticky cum start to leak out, you manage to speak. “Do… do you have a towel?”

“Uhhh… here!” He grabs your binders and rips them both, turning them in to makeshift towels as he pulls out, along with a flood of cum.

You know you said you wouldn’t bind anymore, but having the option taken away made everything all the more real. You know it was for the best tho. He specializes in helping trans men, and he said this always works. You just have to trust him! As time runs out, you don’t even realize you forgot to finish your top surgery letter.

Still… you couldn’t wait to book your next session.

#detrans kink #detrans me #detransition kink #fakeboy #forced detrans #ftm detrans kink #ftm misgendering #ftmtf kink #ftm correctional therapy #ftmtf cnc #ftmtf breeding #ftmtf nsft

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swappermanent · 8 days ago

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Freckles

Being a closeted trans guy isn’t easy for anyone these days. Trust me, I’ve got the scars—metaphorical ones, at least—to prove it. But when it comes to my family, the challenge isn’t what you might expect. They’re not exactly waving rainbow flags at every Pride parade, but they’re not storming drag shows with pitchforks either. They’re comfortably, frustratingly middle-of-the-road when it comes to identity politics. You know the type—“We support you as long as it’s not too inconvenient.”

So, no, the problem isn’t their politics. The problem is the Elber Family Reunion Swap.

Let me explain. Every summer, my grandparents rent this massive villa somewhere in the world—we’re talking infinity pools, tennis courts, and a “staff quarters” vibe. It’s fancy. During this week of forced family bonding, Grandpa Elber breaks out his magic for what he calls “the ultimate empathy exercise.”

Yeah, magic. Real magic. My grandpa is an actual wizard, and no, I don’t know why he isn’t out saving the world or something. He claims this is his legacy, his gift to the family. And the gift? A body swap. Each of us trades bodies with another family member for the week to “better understand” their perspective. Sounds wholesome in theory, right? Sure. Except it comes with rules.

The first rule: you can only swap with someone of the same gender. According to Grandpa, this is because “genders have different energies” or some other magical nonsense he uses to justify it. The second rule: while in someone else’s body, you must act like that person. It’s considered bad form—borderline taboo, even—to behave “out of character.” The goal is to fully immerse yourself and live as them for the week.

This is the part that fucking sucks for me.

Growing up, I naturally got shoved into the women’s group. It didn’t matter that my hair was short or that I always would hang out with my male cousins all the time. When swap week rolled around, I was guaranteed to end up in the most hyper-feminine body available. Cousin Leah, with her long curly hair and pastel sundresses. Aunt Beth, whose shoe collection was a stiletto-filled nightmare. Once, I even got swapped into Great Aunt Carol, whose hobbies include flower arranging and oversharing about her cats.

It was torture. Absolute, unfiltered dysphoria. Butvery year, I’d smile through gritted teeth as relatives gushed about “seeing life from a different perspective,” counting the minutes until I could escape back to my flawed, but familiar, body.

But this year was different.

Nine months ago, I started taking T and told my family I wanted to use he/him pronouns. While their reactions ranged from awkward to mildly confused, they mostly rolled with it. And over time, my voice got deeper voice, the angles of my face sharpened a bit, and I started carrying myself more like a guy. Sure, I wasn’t "there" yet, whatever that meant: I hadn’t had top surgery, and my voice still cracked when I tried to lower it too much. But for this year’s reunion, I was cautiously optimistic that there was a chance—however slim—that I might finally swap with a guy.

The thought alone made my pulse race. Grandpa said he had no idea what would happen, that the magic would sort itself out. But if it worked—if the spell actually recognized who I was, not who I’d been forced to be—it would be life-changing. For once, I might not have to endure a week of floral prints and makeup. For once, I might get to experience a body that offered a glimpse into my future as a man.

---

On the evening of the swap, the family gathered in the villa’s massive living room, the air thick with incense from whatever mystical preparation Grandpa had cooked up. I sat cross-legged on the floor, trying not to look too eager. Across the room, Uncle Marco—rugged, broad-shouldered, and looking like he belonged on the cover of Men’s Health—was chatting with Cousin Dylan, who somehow made even a hoodie and jeans look effortlessly cool. If the magic did swap me with a guy, I hoped for one of them.

Grandpa raised his hands, muttered something in an unrecognizable language, and completed the spell. A wave of dizziness hit me like a truck, and everything went dark.

When I came to, the world felt... different.

Looking down, I saw strong, freckled arms with pale skin peppered by coppery freckles. The faint lines of veins ran beneath the surface, threading down to hands that felt capable, solid, real. My breath quickened. A quick glance at the mirror across the room confirmed what I already realized: I was in Theo’s body.

Theo. My cousin Theo was the only other openly gay member of our family. He was always unapologetically himself, and—if I was being honest—so effortlessly masculine it made my chest ache.

I tried not to stare too long in the mirror across the room—tried not to make it obvious—but I couldn’t help but take in the details. My hands shifted tentatively, brushing over the flat expanse of his chest. I could feel the firm definition of his pecs under my fingertips, the strength that lay just beneath the skin. A shiver ran through me as I slid my hands up to his shoulders, savoring the way they tapered down to his arms. My fingers traced his biceps, squeezing lightly, marveling at the power there.

My throat tightened as I flexed one arm, watching the muscle shift and ripple under the skin. For the first time in my life, I looked at a reflection that didn’t feel foreign. This was it. This was who I was supposed to be.

I feel a stirring in my pants, an undeniable reaction to the overwhelming experience of feeling up my own muscles. For the first time in my life, I have a dick. Hesitantly, I let my hand drift lower, subtly pressing against the fabric of Theo’s jeans. The weight of it, the reality of it, is electric.

Across the room, Grandpa—now in Dylan’s body—continues explaining the rules of the swap. His deep voice fills the air, and I catch myself half-listening. My attention flickers to Dylan’s slumped form, unlucky enough to be swapped with Grandpa for the third year in a row. Poor guy. I thought the swaps were supposed to be random, but maybe Grandpa has a knack for landing in his sexy body every summer.

I glance over at my former body. Dysphoria is etched into his—my—features. Theo’s jaw is tight, his hands clutching at my chest as if trying to make sense of the reality he’s been thrown into. It hits like a punch to the gut. I know that feeling all too well, and it sucks to see it written so clearly on my face. Worse still, it’s a stark reminder that I don’t fully look like a guy yet. Not the way I want to.

Grandpa’s voice booms as he finishes his speech. “Let’s all have a fun week!” he declares, his tone lighthearted but commanding.

I turn back to the mirror, drawn to my reflection like a magnet. My smirk curls naturally, unbidden. For once, the face looking back at me feels real, tangible, mine. And damn, does it feel good. Fuck I hope this week never ends

#Gustavo Correa

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thepepsislvt · 1 year ago

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nobody asked for this but im gonna give you my top 5 baby girls and their pros and cons

in order even bc im insane

this also turned out to be more of a drabbles so yall still getting fed

number 5: Sanji

Pros:

literally such a sweetheart

traumatized just like me

always coming with the best insults

best cuddles cant tell me im wrong

so fucking kind <3

supports my nic addiction

also doesnt smoke around you if you dont like it

Cons:

probably wouldnt even look at me until i show him my tits (im a trans guy)

probably smokes a pack a day

thinks he can out smoke me when im literally a feind for nic

on the off chance he gets in a relationship with me he still would flirt with other women and i have abandonment issues

Number 4: Ace

Pros:

Also very much a sweetheart

hes silly and knows how to always make you laugh

personal heater for the winter

will let you trace his freckles

best kisses ong

make cute little shapes with his flames

Cons:

probably wont let you wear his hat

will fake punch you like a brother

too damn sexy

also way too hot during the summer like do not cuddle me i will not go to sleep in the heat

Number 3: Bartolomeo

Pros:

his hair is green meaning hes gotta be a walking green flag

will let you wear his clothes

especially his jacket

wants to kiss you every chance he can

fanboys over anything

hypes you up for anything you want to do

Cons:

doesnt clean his piercings so you have to force him

doesnt understand personal space

Number 2: Rosinante

Pros:

another man that will let you wear his clothes

theyre gonna be huge since hes 9 foot 7

big friendly giant

when he trips bc hes clumsy he requires your kisses to feel better

will pick you up and carry you around if you let him

lets you help him with his makeup

always makes time for you no matter what hes doing

smile brighter than my future

Cons:

Number 1: Izou

Pros:

bro is damn gorgeous

will ask your opinion on everything when shopping for makeup

will even do your makeup if you want him to

self care king

even when youre not feeling it he will at least help you do the most basic things

very patient with only you

big on protecting you

smooches your forehead or temple a ton

has you help with his nightly routine

Cons:

has you ALWAYS help with his nightly routine

“oh im too tired can you do it yourself tonight?”

“Thats too damn bad my hair needs to shine brighter than the sun”

always looks more stunning than you (when is it my turn buddy >:( )

doing his makeup last over an hour

(this one is personal but i wanna cosplay him so bad but hes so feminine im scared i might get mad dysphoria)

thats all :)

#x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #bartolomeo #bartolomeo the cannibal #bartolomeo x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace #black leg sanji #sanji #not a vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #donquixote rosinante #rosinante corazon x reader #rosinante x reader #corazon x reader #izou one piece #izou x reader

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ftmtf-doll · 2 months ago

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Want my friends and family to be concerned when we announce that I'm pregnant. I've always been so adamant that it would never happen to me, my dysphoria being too strong. You'll laugh and say it was an accident, wrapping your arm possessively around my shoulder and saying that I'm keeping it.

No one says anything as my body slowly feminizes, not wanting to make me feel bad about having to go off testosterone for the baby. They're all pretty sure it's more than just pregnancy hormones, it's almost like I'm deliberately trying to look more feminine. But I seem happy enough, so no one mentions it when my hair starts growing long and start shaving all my body hair off

It doesn't help that you're always by my side, talking about how excited we both are to be parents, how wonderfully the pregnancy is going. We get a couple concerned looks whenever you call me the mom-to-be, but I just smile and laugh so it must be fine, right? Surely we talked about this and I'm OK with it

Soon enough I'm wearing exclusively maternity dresses, more often than not low cut ones that show off my breasts which have grown significantly with the pregnancy. We just couldn't find anything else that fit, you explain to our friends who don't fully believe you, but i don't seem too bothered by it so they let it go. Soon some of them start slipping up, accidentally misgendering me. It's an honest mistake every time, its just that well... I really don't look like a man anymore. You laugh and say it's ok whenever they apologize, saying that I'm used to it since strangers see a pregnant person and automatically assume they're a woman.

It's right before the baby comes that you start posting a bunch of cutesy couple photos showing off my warped body, all using my dead name and calling me she/her. Everyone sees it, and everyone talks about it. Some saying they can't believe this, that I'd always seemed so happy as a man. Others saying they'd seen it coming in how I acted over my pregnancy. Some are concerned, worrying if this is really what I want, but surely I would say something if I didn't want this so they leave it be

It's after the baby comes that I officially tell people I'm no longer a man. Well, you tell people for me. I'm just soo busy with the baby and recovery, after all. And if I seem stressed or upset, it's just me getting used to motherhood. Totally not because of anything else

Little do they know, you poked holes in the condom to get me pregnant all with the goal of turning me into your perfect wife. I never wanted any of this, never wanted to be a woman, but you slowly but surely wore me down and changed my body forever. Convinced all our friends that this is what i wanted, that it was my choice. How could I ever explain to everyone that my perfect loving doting partner tricked me, forced this upon me? No one would ever believe me

You're already planning on putting the next baby in me

#fakeboy #detranskink #misgenderingkink #detrans kink #ftm misgendering #misgender me

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drdemonprince · 2 months ago

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Wishing I could grow a full beard and realizing cis men with long hair get misgendered too. Also realizing that cis men are also scared of going bald. It's really helped me out when I get nervous about little things like that to know that cis men get scared of body things like that too idk how to describe. I actually ask myself gender things like that if cis men deal with what I deal with, and it's helped me settle into my identity more and fight social dysphoria

This has been huge for me too. I don't care about my voice getting me misgendered on the phone anymore because I remembered that all my cis gay guy friends get "ma'amed" on the phone, too. And every time I get intimate with a cis guy, he eventually reveals some lurking insecurity that is completely like my own. He thinks his hips are too wide, or his jaw isn't square enough, or that his tits are too big -- standard fatphobic stuff that is used to invalidate the genders of just about fucking everybody, because that is how these things operate. Cis guys worry about walking too gay, emoting too much, wearing the wrong clothes, being beaten up by someone bigger than them who sees them as weak, all the same stuff as us.

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theres-a-body-here · 10 months ago

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hey um trans dude here um looks at u w my big round eyes. could you do some characters of ur choice reacting to their trans male partner wanting to/getting a phalloplasty? im working to get one myself which inspired me to send this ask

I love my trans followers

TW: A homophobic slur, Mentions of surgery and Dysphoria/Dysmorphia

Characters: Ramattra, Asgore, Mohg, Wendell

Wendell is more of a crackpost

Ramattra

When you tell him, he'll be quiet as he thinks for a while

"I'll be back," he says as he abruptly stands and leaves the room

Your heart sinks as you fear the worst

He comes back within minutes and drops a book into your lap before sitting next to you

Confused, you flip it open only to yelp and drop it

It's a dick catalog

An Omnic dick catalog to be exact

He chuckles as he likes it back up

"There are a few exquisite models here, pet. Let's get you one."

He flips to a page and shows you

It's the model he has

Your face burns, hiding your face in your hands as you lean on him

"You're awful," you whine

You peak through your fingers

"Do they have glowing ones?"

"let's see"

Ramattra will be there throughout the surgery, making sure nothing goes wrong

If you ever feel dysphoric, he'll immediately start to comfort you

"Sweet, beautiful boy, I'm so proud of you"

Asgore Dreemurr

He's so happy for you

Be prepared to be pulled into a crushing bear hug

He's with you every step of the way

He'll sit down with you and plan out everything. From the days before the surgery to the aftermath and recovery

However, he'll be sure to mention any monster magic options for you to consider

Whatever you pick in the end, he'll support you

Plenty of kisses and cuddles throughout the process

He knows surgery is scary for humans, so he's sure to make you comfortable every chance he gets

Tea, snacks, and massages galore

After you get your surgery, Asgore will be a nervous wreck

Doting on you like a mother hen, he won't leave your side for a second

Mohg, Lord of Blood

The moment you tell him, he'll have his followers work on finding ways to give you a dick

Riiiighhttt after you give him a few heirs

Unless you don't want to

He'll be pouty but ultimately respects your decision

Him and Varre are your biggest support pillars before and after the process

Mohg literally doesn't let you do anything by yourself

He carries you around everywhere you need to be

"You shouldn't waste your energy, dearest"

Varre will be even worse

"What size would you prefer your phallus to be, lambkin?"

After the surgery, Mohg will keep you in his bed for a long time

Even when you're fully healed, he'll insist you stay resting

Cage his arms around you and nuzzle close like a clingy puppy

Wendell

He's a bit confused, but after explaining it to him, he'll definitely be your number one supporter

"Is there a dick store we go to or...?"

Yeah he's still a bit confused

He'll cling to you during matches and ask you tons of questions

Even during gunfire

"OMG, can we get matching dicks?"

Please be patient with him

If there's time between the storm moving, he'll be sure to give you lots of attention

"MY BOYFRIEND'S GETTING A DICK!"

He screams out in the empty building you two are stocking up in

Or so you thought

"You homos make me sick," a voice calls out, the clacking of heels hitting the floor echo through the area

You two turn to the voice

"INTERNATIONAL POP SENSATION ARIANA GRANDE?!?!?!?" You both exclaim in unison

"Yuh," she says, whipping her hair as she aims a bazooka at you two

#male!reader #trans reader #ftm reader #male reader #Wendell x reader #wendell fortnite #asgore dreemurr x reader #asgore dreemurr #asgore x reader #ramattra x reader #ramattra #mohg lord of blood #mohg x reader #elden ring x reader #overwatch x reader #fortnite x reader #undertale x reader

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yanderestarangel · 1 year ago

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HEADCANONS MIGUEL O'HARA | FTM O'HARA X FTM READER

˚｡⋆.☆TW: afab anatomy, praise, t4t, use of testosterone, mention of dysphoria, fingering, smut, soft!boyfriend miguel, eat out, switch!miguel.

˚｡⋆.☆ I just wanted to write about ftm miguel ohara for a while now, I had never seen a ftm miguel x ftm reader, so... I wrote it.

♡ ₊ ˚— Contrary to what everyone at spidersociety thinks, dating Miguel is a happy and comforting experience, especially when you share the same struggle, experience and pain - being trans men - he is much more open to a debate when he knows that you. He is also an FTM person, thus beginning a calm friendship that in the future led to the two of you dating.

♡ ₊ ˚— However, obviously, O'Hara will not fall in love with you just because you two are equal, but because he saw in you a more peaceful and welcoming future, away from the pain that being a Spider-Man brought, he lost a daughter and he doesn't want to lose you either. He is a lonely, rude man, but deep down, he just needs to be loved too - if you are his safe haven, he will be yours.

♡ ₊ ˚— He will want to know everything about how you feel about your body, gender, etc. If you want to make a complete transition like him - major surgery, testosterone etc - he won't hesitate to recommend the same doctors who took care of him and will also go to every appointment you go to. Miguel will always be by your side, helping you make the best decisions to be comfortable with yourself, he will even give you the list of exercises he does and also help you train every day. However, if you don't want to touch anything and you feel good about your body, it will support you in the same way, regardless of everything, Miguel O'Hara is your boyfriend and respects you more than anything in the multiverse.

♡ ₊ ˚— If you suffer from dysphoria, he will find a way to make you see the incredible man you are, he will praise you, talk to you and use all the resources he can to make you feel good about yourself, Hugging you for hours and leaving you in his lap while he listens to your every outburst, running his hand down your back while whispering that everything is going to be okay.

♡ ₊ ˚— Miguel likes you to kiss or trace with your finger the scars from his top surgery, whenever he is shirtless, sweaty after a list of exercises, he will show off for you - he is attention-starved, Please pay attention to Miguelito - he will stand in front of you, smiling seductively as he watches you drool over his physique. "-You can touch me if you want, mi amor..." He would speak in a provocative tone, but soon the leader's 'don juan' banner would fall, when he saw you kiss his scars, making him blush and let out a soft moan, taking his big hands to your hair and caressing the locks, you are his soft spot... And he doesn't mind being a soft boyfriend with you.

♡ ₊ ˚— O'Hara also likes to hold your hand every time he gives himself testosterone injections. He's not afraid of needles, after all, he needs to apply ruptures too to make himself weaker. However, every time he applies it, being with you by his side is a refreshing sight, it's a quick action but one that means a lot to him and to you too. The futuristic Spider-Man will always hug you afterwards... But be prepared to also deal with the uncontrollable lust he gets after that.

♡ ₊ ˚— Miguel likes to fuck you, and be fucked. He will return home with a dripping pussy after an extremely stressful tiring day, the Mexican will not even give you time to think straight, just lifting you over his shoulder and taking you to the surface closest to the house - opening your thighs , exposing your pussy to him while he brought his lips to your core, hungrily licking your wet skin. “-Give me that pussy, be a good boy...” Miguel growls out, fucking you with his fingers and tongue at the same time. His own pussy twitches in anticipation as he continues to tease and tantalize you. "-So fucking good..," he mutters between suckles - Miguel pushed four fingers inside of you, curving them upward towards your G-spot. You let out a gasp of surprise at the intense stimulation causing waves of pleasure to course through your body. "-Like that?" He'll make you cum first, and then you'll be able to return the favor.

♡ ₊ ˚— O'Hara will rub himself against your face, his pussy dripping, taking extreme care not to hurt you with his weight. “-Fuck... cariño...” Miguel groans loudly into the room. “-Suck my clit harder... make me cum all over your tongue.” He feels your mouth enveloping his pussy, the warm wetness enclosing him in a way that sends shivers down his spine. His hips buck involuntarily against your face as he reaches out for your head, trying to guide it further downwards. He will shake and moan over your mouth, holding your hair tightly.

♡ ₊ ˚— He and you have a variety of sex toys, especially a custom-made and technological strap-on, which sends waves of pleasure through his pussy with each thrust he makes in your cunt. You'll be able to fuck him too, Miguel really doesn't mind letting you take control sometimes. He will want to be praised too, things like that. "-Such a good boy for me" "-Fuck Miguel, you are so beautiful fucking my pussy like that" "-I love you so much mi guapo" among others, make the brunete blush and whimper with pleasure, especially if you suck your nipples him, while fucking him until you're both a shaking, sweaty mess on the bed - he also loves to dominate you and talk dirty to you when it's his turn to dominate you. Things like: “-You make me so fucking wet.”, "-Let loose all those dirty thoughts about me… say them.", “-You like this? Wanting me so bad that even my pussy craves yours?", "-Do you want me to finger-fuck you hard and fast? Or should I take my time, exploring every inch of you?", "-Cumming soon mi amor..."

♡ ₊ ˚— Miguel also likes the 'scissor' position, making your two clits touch, a wet mess from both of your overstimulated pussies - he'll hold you close to him with his strong arms, dictating the speed - Or, he'll hold you close make you rub your pussy against his muscular thighs, while teasing you, just breaking you to the point of seeing you squirt on him, but, you can also do the same, kissing him while fingering every creamy wall of your spider boyfriend.

♡ ₊ ˚— After you two exhaust your energy fucking all over the house, he'll make sure you're okay, cleaning you up and kissing you, whispering how you pleased him and how lucky he is to have you in his life. The two of you will sleep cuddled together afterwards, with Miguel reassuring you and telling you that you can sleep in peace, that he will be there when you wake up.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

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snailpaste · 10 months ago

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CROCODILE x GN! AFAB! READER

IN THE LOW LAMPLIGHT

Content: Gender Neutral Reader (no pronouns), AFAB! Reader (clit/cunt used, so potential dysphoria TW!), bottom reader, top Crocodile, cockwarming, office sex, lap sex, light overstimulation, dom/sub undertones, established relationship, NSFW 18+ MDNI

Synopsis: Cockwarming Crocodile in his office and reaping the rewards

Word Count: 1428

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You had no idea how long you’d been sitting like this for – sat in your lover's lap, bare front pressed against his clothed chest and face tucked into the crook of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent. Bergamot, cardamom, the sweet smoke of his cigars. You’d lost track of time like this, speared open on Crocodile’s thick, throbbing cock, lulled into a haze by the scribbles of his pen on paper and the rhythmic tics of the grandfather clock.

You let out a content sigh, stretching your back and subtly shifting your hips back onto the cock filling you up so good-

“Patience.” Crocodile’s gruff voice cut through the silence of his office, cold metal hook digging warningly into your hip.

Reluctantly settling back into his lap you wrap your arms around his muscled waist, easily slipping back into a state of mindlessness, knowing only the stretch of his member and the occasional soft kisses pressed to your temple.

Through your haze you watch the light from the large arched windows dim, the water growing darker and bananawani growing lazy outside as dawn came and went.

Lazily, you tilt your head to get a better look at your lover, the sharp contours of his face illuminated by the warm amber desk lamp, wavy strands falling in front of his eyes, brow pinched in concentration. He’d always scoff when you told him he was beautiful, but god if it wasn’t true.

Every now and then Crocodile grinds lazily up into your wet heat, groaning at the snug fit of your walls. He chuckles darkly at your mewls as he teases your rim with his hook, nipping at your ear– “Easy now, darling,” his breath hot against your neck, hand coming up to tug at your hair and expose the marked column of your neck, “You’re doing so well for me. Hang on a little while longer.”

Soon only the hanging mosaic lamps illuminated the room, casting soft shadows across the velvet drapes and tome-filled shelves that stretched towards the domed ceiling. And still, the only sound in the room came from the clock, and the scratches on -what had to be- the final sheets of paper.

Suddenly you feel cool metal run up the dip of your spine, ripping a whimper from your lips, your back arching and clit throbbing. Crocodile hums in appreciation, snapping the pen cap with a satisfying click. He was silent for a while, but you could feel his hungry gaze lingering over your naked form.

Crocodile’s eyes raked over you: legs spread over his thick thighs, cunt leaking and wetting his shirt, completely naked while his pants were open only enough to free his cock and heavy balls. He breathed deeply, huge hand coming up to the back of your head, tangling in your strands and easing back to look at you. And, oh, he had to bite back a moan, because he thought you looked divine looking up at him with flushed parted lips, and glassy blown eyes.

“God,” He breathes, suddenly a little too hot, opting to unbutton his shirt and shed the green cravat. You bite your lip at each inch of exposed muscle- something Crocodile doesn’t miss, smirking and soothing a thick finger over your lips, tapping for entrance– “Suck.”

Obediently, you wrap your mouth around the digit, curling your tongue and bobbing your head just the way he likes, and his hook digs deliciously into your hip in response. His throat bobs as you make eye contact, dragging your teeth teasingly and flicking against the tip.

“Fuck.” He growls. Pulling his spit-slicked fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, Crocodile reaches down and wipes them across your puffy cunt lips, relishing the way you jump and instinctively tighten. “So fucking beautiful.”

And finally, finally, he begins to grind lazily into your throbbing, aching hole.

“Croc-” you moan, voice hoarse and needy, rocking your hips in desperate need of “more!”

He grins softly, eyes darkening even more, “You need more? That so sweetheart?” Rings dig into your skin as he wraps a large hand around your waist, lifting you slowly up off his cock until only the tip remains nestled inside. “How ‘bout this then?” And slowly, achingly slow, he sinks you back down.

“I-” you gasp, the drag of his girth against your g-spot setting your nerves on fire, “Please~”

And how could he ever refuse you? Crocodile grunts, biting his lip and starting to bounce you on his cock. He fills you up with deep, slow strokes, watching your eyes flutter and jaw slacken as his blunt tip bullies into your g-spot.

A particularly harsh snap of his hips has you crying out, slick walls clenching tight and turning him feral. He starts fucking into you hard and fast and rough, gritting his teeth and groaning “Jesus fuck baby."

It was good. It was better than good. You could feel your orgasm coiling untouched, eyes rolling back each time his cock sunk deep inside. Your soft groans spurred Crocodile closer and closer to the edge, eyes flitting down to the ring of cream coating from the base of his cock and your puffy clit.

It was almost too much, everything becoming too sensitive as your stomachs tightened and tightened.

The sound of skin slapping skin and the squelch of lube filled the room, Crocodile bringing you into a sloppy kiss, all tongue and nipping teeth, hot and fast and taking as he groaned into your mouth.

He knows you’re close, fuck, he’s close, but he likes drawing things out, loves the way your walls flutter at his sinful voice.

“You gonna come for me, beautiful?” He murmurs, deep and smooth, and all you can do is babble desperate pleas, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders and whining.

With each drag of his cock against your walls the coil in your groin winds tighter. You’re so close.

Crocodile laughs breathily, snapping his hips up into you hard and reaching down to rub circles against your aching clit. “Then cum,” He strokes once, twice, and oh. Oh fuck–

Your body snaps taught, eyes rolling closed as your orgasm washes over you with a wave of white. And Crocodile doesn’t stop, milking your orgasm and grinding against your g-spot as you shudder and gasp in his grip, slick dribbling down his length and balls.

“Close.” He groans, biting your neck.

You’re too fucked out to moan or whimper as he keeps thrusting into you, overstimulating your pulsing sex.

It was all too much for him: your walls squeezing and pulsing over his aching cock, the cracked moan of his name as you shudder through your orgasm, the lewd sound of squelching. With a deep, growling moan Crocodile threw his heap back, cumming, his cock throbbing in your tight slick walls and filling you with his hot release.

You whimper his name, tugging at his dark hair when he bites your neck, marking you as his. His hips still after giving a few soft thrusts, emptying himself entirely. You can feel each pulse of his hard cock, the wetness of his cum coating your walls.

Both of you pause, wrapped around each other, panting and trembling. The room is heavy with the smell of sex and sin, and cum dribbles down your thigh as his softening cock slips out.

“God.” With a tired groan Crocodile slumps in his seat, pulling you down against his chest, "God fuckin’ shit."

Crocodile forgoes his usual after-sex cigar in favour of whispering praise and drawing soothing patterns across your skin with his hook. His voice is breathless as he cards his fingers through your hair, “So good. So good for me. Mine.”

After a while he tilts your head back by the chin, smiling down softly, “You alright?”

His voice is calm and soothing. You nod and press a chaste kiss to his lips, drawing a hum of acknowledgement.

“Good,” he breathes against your lips before meeting yours in a soft, passionate kiss.

He presses his forehead against your own and gently picks you up, cradling you to his chest. His heart fluttering obnoxiously as you stifle a yawn into his chest and nuzzle his neck.

Picking it up from where it was draped over the desk, Crocodile wraps his warm, fleece-lined coat around your shoulders, carrying you to the pre-prepared bath, “You were perfect, my love.”

══════════════════

So I forgot to post this version here as well as on AO3, so here you are. Queued up post that I shat out at night frantically lmao. Reblogs with tags and comments are always massively appreciated! Please let me know if anything here isn't tagged correctly

#one piece x gn reader #queued post #one piece x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #one piece smut #crocodile x gn reader #crocodile x reader #bottom gn reader #crocodile smut #snailpaste: writing

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kortsitron · 8 months ago

Text

Corruption

✮ PARING Hobie Brown × Trans Male! Reader

✮ WARNINGS/TAGS reader realizes he's trans, pre-transition reader, religious themes, christianity, fluff, angst, supportive! hobie, reader is referred to as a girl/daughter in some moments, hobie and reader are both young adults, gender dysphoria, toxic parents, abuse, transphobia, cursing, reader is referred by she/her by his parents, happy ending

✮ SUMMARY A stranger comes to your town and helps you realize who you are

✮ A/N If you know me, you probably know my opinion on Christianity and religion in general, but I won't lie, I kinda like the religious themes. Especially when it's about being taken out of it and realizing that the world has so much to offer once you leave it. I guess it's my type of thing since I have been raised as a catholic little ‘girl’ and now I hate religion with pure passion after having it shown down my throat for years when I was younger. One more thing, if you're not comfortable, please do not read this. I am aware there are people who can be triggered by any of the things mentioned in the warnings/tags. If you decide to read this, I hope you're going to enjoy it! <3

In a way inspired by confessions by @eyesxxyou

ao3 masterlist requests

You were such a perfect girl in everyone's eyes. Always so nice and polite, obedient towards your parents, in church every Sunday. You were so feminine, so lovely. Always wore those pretty dresses and skirts of yours, along with the necklace with virgin Mary on your pretty neck. And your gorgeous long hair. You were a perfection to everyone around you.

But you didn't feel perfect in the slightest.

You felt so wrong for some reason you couldn't quite name. Your body felt like a cage you couldn't get out of and you didn't know why. All you knew was that you wanted to cut your hair, hide your body under some baggy clothing and yell at everyone who called you a girl. But obviously you couldn't do that, no matter how much you wanted to. You didn't want people to look at you weirdly, to call you a freak.

So you decided to stay quiet, knowing that nothing was going to change because you were too scared to do it on your own. Scared of judgment and scared of being abandoned.

All you did was pray that your sinful fantasies would simply go away. But instead of them going away, something else happened. Like the prayers from the depth of your heart have been heard and finally answered.

You saw him after the Sunday mass, as you were standing next to your mother while she was talking with someone else. He was nothing like you've ever seen before. Those piercing glistening in the sunlight just like the spikes on his vest. The distressed pants with patches and chains. And those heavy boots. He was the definition of perfection, definitely not to those around you, but for you without a doubt.

You have caught eye contact with that beautiful stranger. His stunning brown eyes stared into yours as he smirked at you. He probably thought you were just a pretty girl, you assumed. After all, why would he think differently?

“Do not look at him.” Your mother scolded you, grabbing you by your shoulder and turning you to face her. You could see the disgust on her face. You’ve never seen her with that kind of grimace on her face. “I do not want to see you near him. I can already tell he's no good.”

She didn't say it, but you could already tell she saw him as the embodiment of everything that was sinful. And the last thing she wanted was her precious daughter to stray from God's path.

You glanced at the punk for the last time before your mother said that you were going home. He still watched you. He wasn't sure what it was about you that made him want to get to know you. But something inside him told him that you needed him.

Since then you saw him around the town, but you didn't dare to come close to him. You felt a rush of excitement in your stomach every time you saw him, saw that smirk of his. You didn't have anyone who excited you the way he did. But he indeed did excite you, but you couldn't even talk to him, being scared your parents might yell at you.

Everything changed when you were peacefully reading the bible on the bench next to the church. It was so warm and sunny, so you picked a spot under a tree. Your hair was made into a long braid that was getting more loose without you noticing.

You then heard someone sit next to you. You looked up from the bible to see him. That beautiful punk, smirking at you shamelessly. He looked even better up close.

“Hello, luv. I'm Hobie.” His voice was lower than you thought it would be. But it sounded so good, so smooth you could almost melt. His eyes looked from your face to the bible you held your hand, then back to your face. You started wondering what was on his mind. “What's your name, hmm?”

You bashfully told him your name. You weren't sure how to act. Was he expecting you to pretend to be this perfect girl everyone perceived you as? Or maybe he was finally someone that could let you be yourself? Either way, you were scared to find out.

He chuckled at your bashful reaction. Your cheeks got pink so quickly. You were just so adorable. And so… innocent. But you had a feeling he could see right through you. See that all of this was just a facade and under all of it, there was a real you, trying to get to the surface. Trying to be free.

“Have you ever listened to punk rock?” Hobie asked out of nowhere. You blinked. You? Listening to loud, unapologetic music? You could never do that. At least not without worrying about being judged.

Finally you shook your head and his smirk widened. “Darlin’, we have to change that immediately.” He saw you shake your head even more.

You heard about punk rock. The unapologetic and loud music for brutal men who have abandoned God's ways and all the rules. At least that's what you have been told by your mother. “They are good for nothing but corrupting the minds of pretty girls like you. And I cannot let that happen.” She told you and you wondered if Hobie was that type of punk. The type to ruin you and corrupt you.

“I-I can't. I am not allowed to listen to that kind of music.” You looked down at the bible in your hands, you couldn't look Hobie in the eyes. You expected him to think you were weird for not being allowed to listen to what you wanted. But all you wanted was to avoid conflict.

Hobie's face went from confusion to smirk again. “Oh please. I can see that there's a little rebel hidden behind those pretty innocent eyes.” So he indeed could right through you.

You nervously played with your hair, wanting to both agree and refuse. And in a quick moment, your beautiful braid was untied. “Oh no.” You watched your hairband fall onto the grass. Hobie noticed it too. He moved and grabbed it, quickly cleaning it off from all the dirt. “Allow me.” He spoke so softly. You weren't sure if you should allow him to touch you in any way, but he just wanted to help you tie your hair, right?

You decided not to overthink it, sitting with your back facing him, so he could tie your hair. You didn't expect it, but he was so gentle with your hair. No harsh hair pulling. His fingers parted your hand so nicely before he began to braid it. You almost melted.

And soon, you had your pretty braid again. Not as perfect as you could have done it, but it was still really nice. “Thank you so much, Hobie.” You said quietly before excusing yourself and saying you had to go. His eyes softened, he only nodded, asking if he could talk to you again. “I hate to say it, but I can't be seen with you.”

Hobie sighed, his fingertip tapped at his lip ring, he seemed lost in thoughts. “And if we meet in secret?” He looked down at you, you were so short compared to him. “You can come over to my place, no one will know you were with me and I could show you some of my world.” He spoke so proudly when he mentioned introducing you to his world. And even though you technically shouldn't be meeting him, you were more than curious. So you agreed at last.

Obviously, someone saw you with Hobie. Your parents weren't proud of you for talking to him. You had no other choice than to lie, just like you did when it came to who you really felt about yourself.

Yes, I like this dress.

Yes, I like those shoes.

Yes, my hair is so pretty when it's so long.

Yes, I am a girl.

You had to lie, even though you wish you didn't have to. But you hoped that at the end of the day, when you were praying before going to sleep, God would forgive you for lying to everyone around you. He would understand, right?

So, as always, you lied, telling your parents that Hobie asked for some help because he was a newcomer and didn't know the town very well. Your parents weren't happy you talked to him, but knew, or at least believed, you were too good and polite to refuse to help him. They didn't think twice about it, allowing you to go to your room. They didn't mention Hobie braiding your hair, so you just assumed they didn't know about it, so you decided not to mention it either. It was better to keep your mouth shut.

You were careful when the day of visiting Hobie came. You told your parents that you went to study the bible at your friend's house. They didn't suspect a thing. You made sure no one could see you as you made your way to Hobie's apartment. And soon enough, you were in front of the door of his apartment.

You knocked lightly, heard the sound of locks being unlocked and then the door finally opened. You saw Hobie and he looked at you with that same softness like the last time. But this time he rubbed one eye with a cotton pad. You had a look of confusion on your face when you saw that.

“Come in, luv.” He moved so you could come inside, but instead of looking around, you watched him.

“Are you… wiping off your makeup?” The question sounded so stupid in your mind. Men weren't wearing makeup… right?

Hobie chuckled softly before going to the bathroom to wipe the makeup off more precisely in front of the mirror. You saw a few small eyeshadow palettes with bright eyeshadow in them, along with eyeliner and even two lipsticks. Even you didn't own that much makeup, you barely had any makeup since your parents didn't want you to paint your face like a whore.

“Yeah. I have been to a small party outside the town, so I wanted to look me best.” Hobie explained, before throwing a dirty pad into the bin. He then turned to you, it was obvious that you never saw a man wearing makeup before. You've never seen someone like him before. He allowed himself to check you out, you had a long skirt and a cute top that matched the skirt so well. “I am guessing you never wore the kind of makeup I usually go for?”

His hand grabbed one of the eyeshadow palettes and gave it to you, so you could see the inside better. You didn't think much and opened it. You hand one makeup palette and it was mostly light browns, one a little more glittery eyeshadow and two light pinks. But Hobie’s? It was so colorful. Red, blue, green and yellow. All of them so bright and pigmented.

He smiled when he saw your reaction, he felt excitement in his stomach. You looked stunned. “Why don't I finally show you that punk rock?” He left the bathroom and you followed him. His apartment was a little messy. Posters on every wall, some chokers and other jewelry scattered in some places and some clothes laying around. But his room was even better. It was so… him. You could see the room scream Hobie. Even more posters, a guitar. It might have been a little messy, but it had so much character.

Hobie moved to the old cd player and in the matter of seconds, the loud music played. Black Flag on full volume. At first you weren't sure what to think, but soon, you started loving it. You stopped caring about anything when the music played, banging your head to the rhythm. At first a little shyly, but then you were more confident about it, not caring if you were going to mess up your hair. You looked so happy, you felt so happy. It has been since you felt like that.

Even since Hobie came here, he finally saw your smile, the real and sincere smile on that face of yours. But he saw it falter when Can't Decide by the Black Flag started playing.

Sun's coming up and I can't decide

To spill my emotions or keep them inside

Go for a drive, go to the store

I'm looking for something that can't be bought there

I always wear a smile

Because anything but a smile would make me have to explain

And they wouldn't understand anyway

I conceal my feelings so I won't have to explain

What I can't explain anyway

It hit so close to home, you almost started sobbing. Hobie saw it immediately and turned the music off. He sat next to you, one arm around you while he rubbed your arm with the other to comfort you. He barely knew you, but he was so concerned about your well being already. “What happened, dove?” He asked so quietly, almost as if he was scared he might make you start crying just by asking.

But you weren't ready to admit what has been going inside your head for months. And he could see that so well. A few tears went down your cheeks so you asked for a tissue. You smudged your makeup a bit, but luckily Hobie was able to fix it with the only brown palette he owned, the one had forgotten about since he never used it.

You gathered your things and apologized. “Don't apologize, luv. Just know you can come and talk about what's going on in that pretty head of yours.” You only nodded before leaving.

Your parents weren't home by the time you came back, they were probably in the neighbor's house, talking and eating how they did once in a while. Probably praising you how good and obedient you were, and how they were happy to have a daughter like you.

And after that situation at Hobie's place, it became harder to pretend. It became hard not to cry when you were called a perfect daughter, pretty girl and beautiful woman. You couldn't wait any longer, you had to talk with someone about it. And the only person who would not judge you was Hobie.

It has been a while since you talked to him. But you came back, trembling, looking like you were about to start crying at any given moment. Hobie didn't think twice, he just let you in, sat down on the floor while he seated you on his bed. His calloused hands found yours and he caressed them gently in order to comfort you.

And finally, after all this time, you opened up about what has been on your mind for all those months. You explained how you felt trapped in your own body, how you hated being seen as a girl and how much it hurt when you were called and seen as one. How much you just wanted to be yourself.

Hobie's eyes softened, his hand touched your delicate cheek as his thumb stroked it. You didn't flinch away from his touch, instead you leaned into his hand, enjoying the way he touched you. “Darlin’, I think you might be trans.”

“I might be what?” Your nose was already stuffed from all that crying, making your voice sound funny. Hobie sighed before his lips curled into the soften of smiled.

“Trans, hun.” You still looked confused, but he wasn't going to blame you. You've been living in a place where you were too scared to be yourself, you couldn't name your feelings even though you have been feeling them for months. It was obvious these people weren't talking about things like that, at least not in the way that would make you want to explore those feelings.

“It's uh, it's when your body doesn't match how you feel on the inside. Like you, you have been born as a woman, but you don't feel like one, don't you?” You shook your head, of course you didn't feel like a woman. Thinking about yourself as a woman didn't feel right.

Hobie got an idea. “Why don't you go to the bathroom and take all of that off? I'll bring ya some clothes and then you'll tell me how you feel.” He helped you with making your way to the bathroom and closed the door after you. You took off the dress, standing in nothing more than your underwear. It felt a bit less suffocating to not be wearing that stupid dress.

Soon, you heard Hobie knock on the door. “I have some stuff I think might look good on you.” You covered yourself with the towel that was near you, not wanting for Hobie to see your body. But he didn't even peek in, instead he held the clothes for you, letting you grab them before he quickly closed the door behind him.

You looked down at the clothes. Some distressed jeans with patches and studded belt, white shirt with some graffiti, which you assumed was decorated by Hobie himself and even some hand warmers to match the outfit.

You had put on the outfit and left the bathroom, only to see Hobie waiting for you. His eyes sparkled when he saw you. And he could see it in your face that you felt better. He looked so excited for you.

But you still had that long braid. “Let me…” Hobie murmured before you felt him touch your hair again. You weren't sure what he did exactly, but when you stepped in front of the mirror, your hair looked so short. It wasn't perfect, but you loved how your hair looked, way more than it looked in a braid, ponytail or any other hairstyle you were used to. You looked like a boy, and you were so happy.

At that very moment, you knew you couldn't go back to how your life was before. You couldn't go back to wearing dresses, praying to the God that probably never listened to you and did not care about you. You could no longer pretend that you were the perfect girl you were seen as until now.

Hobie's hands grabbed you by your shoulder. “Do you want me to call by a different name?” He asked, glancing at your reflection in the mirror as he rubbed your shoulders. You thought about it for a moment, before looking up at him and speaking up. “Do you think [Name] would suit me?”

Hobie chuckled and nodded. “Definitely, luv. Definitely.” He couldn't help himself and softly kissed your cheek. You were surprised by the sudden affection, but you enjoyed it.

“I want you to cut my hair. I want it short..” You said so suddenly, your voice was a little shaky, but you couldn't wait anymore. You have wanted to cut it for a while and you didn't want anyone else other than Hobie to do it. He was surprised by you. He didn't expect you to want to do it now.

“Are you su–”

“Yes, I am sure.” You cut him off, you didn't want to be mean, but you couldn't wait any longer. “Please… I don't want to go back to what was before. I don't want to pretend to be someone who I am not.” You begged, you sounded so desperate. He couldn't say no to you when you sounded like that.

“Okay.” He said, giving your shoulders a squeeze before he took you to the bathroom. He brought a small stool and seated you on it. He grabbed a scissors, untied your hair, looking at it for the last time before he started cutting it. You squeezed your eyes shut, your stomach swirling with anxiety, as you listened to the sound of the scissors cutting your hair.

Snip! Snip! Snip!

You felt your hair, your hair that you got so many compliments on, tickling your arms and neck before it fell down on the bathroom floor. “Done.” Hobie said, his voice was flat. It made you worry. Did you look bad? Did he mess up your hair? Was it a mistake?

He brushed the cut hair off of you, before you stood up and looked in the mirror. It was not perfect, but it still made you feel good. You started sobbing immediately. “Dove? Are you alright?” Hobie asked, worried and a little panicked.

“I've never felt better.” You sobbed out and he sighed, relieved that you liked it. He hugged you tightly, being so glad to see you happy with who you were.

But it couldn't go on forever. You came home pretty late, still wearing the clothes Hobie gave you earlier. And in the hoodie he gave so you wouldn't be cold while coming back home. You knew confrontation wouldn't be something you were able to avoid . And you knew it wouldn't be a light confrontation either.

Your parents were sitting in the living room. As soon as you closed the front door behind you, you heard your father call you by the name you no longer wished to be called by. You took a deep breath, pulling a hood over your head before you entered the living room. Your parents eyes were immediately on you, your mother gasped loudly.

“What the fuck is that!?” Your father yelled, he stood up and grabbed you by the hood and yanked it off your head. He intended to grab you by your hair, but there was nothing to grab. Your lovely long hair was long gone and there was nothing they could do about it. In a way, that made you proud.

“What have you done to yourself!?” Your mother shouted with tears in her eyes. You've never seen her crying and you didn't expect her to get so emotional. She always seemed so cold. “Where's your hair? Your dress?” She's never been so panicked. “What will we say to the others once they see that your hair is gone? What will they think of us? What will they think of you?”

There was this need to apologize, turn the time back and never let yourself explore who you really were. But you weren't going to let this need win. You have been obedient for way too long. You were pretending for way too long and now? You were tired of it.

“I don't fucking care what are they going to think of me!” You shouted back. Both of your parents were startled by the fact that you just cursed. They never heard you curse, nor did they hear you sound so confident. “I have been pretending to be someone who I wasn't me for way too long. I am not going to let you decide about how I am anymore!”

Slap!

Your father slapped you so hard you fell to the floor. Your cheek was all red already. You and your mother were both shocked. Your father was about to take his belt off and start beating you, but your mother stopped him. “I am sure there's something we can do instead of beating her up. People will notice and they might think we were the one to cut her hair off. We can buy a wig until her hair grows back.”

“I am not growing it back and I am not putting the dresses back on.” You hissed. Maybe you shouldn't have done that, but you ripped off the virgin Mary necklace off your neck and threw it.

Your parents were more than shocked at your action. “She must have been corrupted by that punk!” Your mother cried out. “What are we going to–” Your father lost his temper. Instead of beating you up like he initially planned, he grabbed you and threw you out the door. “I no longer have a daughter!” It was the last thing you heard before he closed the door.

Soon, your father started throwing your things out the window. All those gorgeous dresses and skirts flying out the window. Before you were terrified to even slightly rip them and now? You didn't care that they got dirty, they stopped mattering to you. You only waited for your father to throw your phone. You wanted to catch it, but it fell onto the concrete, the phone screen broke, but luckily for you, you still were able to use it. You grabbed some more important things that your father had thrown and then made your way to Hobie's apartment.

He was concerned, but both of you knew it was better that way. If you stayed, nothing would change and everything would go worse. More praying, more femininity, more pretending. But you weren't going to stay with your parents, luckily Hobie said you could stay with him.

You were laying with Hobie in his bed. You were so lost in your thoughts and he could see it clearly. Hobie laid on his side to face you, the tips of his fingers brushed against your jaw to get your attention. You turned to look at him. “You okay?” You put your hands on your face and sighed.

“I'm fine. It’s just… I've wanted to be myself for a while and I…” You paused for a moment, not looking into Hobie's eyes. In a way, it all felt unreal. Usually, you would now be in your bed, reading the bible or praying. And now, you were laying with a man you didn't know very well, but he gave you everything you could have asked for. Acceptance, help and hope.

Your eyes finally met his again. “I didn't expect that it would actually happen. I thought I was going to be everyone's perfect girl until I die, but you came into my life and changed everything. Thank you so much for that.” You smiled at him, you were so grateful he came into your life. He smiled back at you and leaned to kiss your cheek.

“You're very welcome, luv.”

You both left the town as quickly as you could since that happened. Now, it has been 6 years since the day you met him. Everything has been truly perfect since then. Your transition was going well and you recently had your top surgery.

And Hobie? He was with you the whole time. During the first appointment at the doctor, he helped you take your first testosterone shot and he held your hand both before and after the surgery.

Life couldn't be more perfect and you never felt more perfect.

taglist: @sk3llly

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