#help the dysphoria is kicking my ass again today and everything about me looks and feels wrong

[the-yearning-astronaut]

I wish I could be agender the way Murderbot is agender. Right down to the lack of biological sexual characteristics. So agender that the term agender comes with too much associated gender to accurately apply. You know what I mean?

[sugarbooger513]

JJK Men x Insecure chubby Fem!reader

Today has been hard to think of myself positively, and I have friends who struggle with the same thing, so I thought I could indulge some people with some very loved characters reminding us that, no matter our size, we're perfect.

Characters: Satoru Gojo, Toji Fushiguro, Choso Kamo, Kento Nanami

Warnings: Insecurities, body dysphoria, Toji's gets spicy (sue me), suggestive at the end of Nanami's, tooth rotting fluff.

Satoru Gojo

- Let's be completely honest here, this man rarely feels insecure, if he ever does.

- He wouldn't be able to sympathize, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. In fact, it makes him care a lot more.

- His comfort methods aren't for everyone either, so be prepared. He's trying, give him that.

- Humor. That's what this man knows. Iykyk, this man deflects any form of trauma with his humor.

- If he notices it isn't working, then he'll come up with something else because he loves you. That love tells him that he has to try.

"Oh sweetie pie, I'm home!" Satoru's voice carries easily through the house, but you can't seem to care at the moment. Your cheeks still feel somewhat sticky from the tears that have fallen the past thirty minutes.

"Honey bun? I said I-" His voice cuts off, and you know you're caught. The bed shifts where your boyfriend lowers himself beside you. "Y/N, why are you crying?"

"I-I don't want to talk about it, Satoru." He removes his blindfold with a small chuckle. "Did your favorite anime character die?" "No." "You sure? You tend to sob when-" "I said I don't want to talk about it."

He freezes at the way you lash out at him. Yeah, something is actually wrong.

"Love," his voice softens in a way that shows how worried he is, "is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all?" You're quiet for a minute, but you eventually scoot closer to him.

"You want me to hold you?" All you manage is a nod before more tears slide down your cheeks. His long arms encase you securely against him. "I can do that as long as you need. I'm here for you, Y/N."

The two of you stay like that, you crying softly into his uniform while he runs his hand up and down your back.

Eventually, your sobs turn into small sniffles, and you finally speak. "I.. I'm sorry for snapping at your earlier, Sato." He smiles at the loving nickname. "No, baby, I'm sorry for joking around. You wanna talk about it now?"

"I just... I was thinking about.. how many girls looks so much better than I do." He scoffs. "You're kidding, right?" "Sato.." "No, I mean that. It isn't a joke. Baby, we've been through this since day one. I. Want. You."

You hide your now blushing face against his chest. "But.. I just don't understand.." "Look at me, baby." When you do, his bright blue eyes seem to shimmer. "You're the love of my life. You're gorgeous, stunning, beautiful, and every other synonym to those that I'll have to get Nanami to teach me because I will remind you everyday until it gets through your thick ass skull."

His hand comes up to rest on your chubby cheek, where he starts to wipe away the drying tears. "I. Love. You. So. Freaking. Much. Y/N." Each word is punctuated with a kiss on a different part of your face, until he eventually meets your lips.

The small giggles you let out makes him smile. "There's that beautiful laugh! Come on, why don't I pop some popcorn and we go watch whatever you want on the TV?" Your shit eating grin makes him snort a bit of laughter. "Even if it ends in a favorite character dying?"

"I don't mind having to hold you a bit longer."

Toji Fushiguro

- This is also someone I don't think can really empathize with you and your insecurities.

- However, when this man falls he falls HARD

- He will do anything in his power to make you feel better.

- Well

- Anything he can do while still seeming nonchalant about it

- Lets talk about how this man would take matters into his own hands, with his own hands, to make sure you know how loved you are. (You couldn't have expected just fluff with him, give me a break y'all.)

"Y/N," Toji kicks his shoes off carelessly at the door, "I'm home." He raises a confused eyebrow when he looks around the house. Plates from your movie night yesterday lay strewn about the coffee table, still.

'She never leaves dishes out. That's weird.'

He starts to walk around the house, worry filling his chest. It just isn't like you to leave a mess, or to not greet him at the door. There's no way someone came and did something to you, right? No one is THAT dumb, surely.

When he hears the small sniffles coming from your shared bedroom, he breathes a small sigh of relief. "Y/N? I'm coming in." He pushes the bedroom door open to see you cuddling his pillow while laying on your side.

His eyes widen at the sight of your body trembling from the small sobs. "Y/N?" He walks around the bed to kneel in front of you. "What happened?"

"N-Nothing Toji. Sorry, I-I know the house is a w-wreck." "Shut up about the damn house. I don't care. Why are you crying?"

You finally sit up, which lets him sit beside you on the bed. "I just.. Bad day." "Who do I need to stab?" "T-Toji?! You can't solve everything by stabbing!" He shrugs a bit. "You can try."

He smiles sweetly when you slap his arm. "That isn't funny." "Hmmm, but it made your cheeks flush." "Toji Fushiguro!" "Alright, alright. You wanna tell me what's wrong now?"

"I just.. looked in a mirror for too long, babe. Don't worry about-" "I'm lost. What do you mean you looked in one for too long?" You sigh, knowing he hates vague answers.

"My body is disgusting me today, Toji." He scrunches his eyebrows and leans in a bit closer to you. Your face heats up from the slight glare in his eyes.

"Looks the same to me." "Toji, I-" "Correct yourself." His already deep voice seems to drop even lower. Your entire body trembles. "S-Sir."

"Good girl. Now, let me get this straight. You don't think you're attractive." You shake your head, suddenly feeling the tears come back to your eyes. "Why not?" "J-Just.. my body.. it isn't.." "Skinny?" The word hurts your heart, but you nod, knowing he expects some sort of answer.

"So? You're exactly what I need, Y/N." You glance up to meet his loving gaze. "N-need?" "Don't play dumb. You know I need you. Now, we have to fix those insecurities."

He stands, offering his hand out to you. When you take it, he pulls you to your feet.

"Now," he groans as he lays back down on the bed, "I've had a tiring day at work. I want you to strip and come take a seat." "A-a seat?" His smirk tells you what you need to know before he elaborates. "I AM rather starved. Come on, I'm pretty impatient."

"To-Sir, I'm too.." "Heavy? Try again. You aren't getting out of this." He snaps his fingers, and the sound runs deep into your core. His eyes watch you hungrily as you start to get out of your pants.

"Now, for every one of your orgasms, I want to hear 'I'm Toji's pretty princess.' Understand?" "Y-yes sir."

You have no idea what posses you, but you finally let out you own witty comment. "You could at least take me to dinner first."

"You cheeky brat, don't worry. I have plans for your meal."

Hope you don't mind being hoarse for a while. You had to repeat just how pretty you were a number of times.

Choso Kamo

- SWEETEST MOTHER FUCKER I SWEAR

- He doesn't see a single flaw in you, honestly.

- Plus, he doesn't really understand beauty standards. All he knows is he loves every inch of you.

- Nothing goes unloved by this big ass baby.

- You crying would probably bring him to tears because he feeds off your emotion.

- But there is no doubt this man will do anything and everything to see your smile again.

- A true king who just wants his queen as happy as she makes him.

He left you for maybe an hour. Maybe. Choso just had to run and pick up a movie from Yuji.

"Angel, Yuji said that we have to-" He drops the movie the instant he sees tears in your eyes. "L-love? What happened?"

He rushes to your side and wastes no time wrapping you in his strong embrace. Your hands grip his shirt in a feeble attempt to pull him closer.

"What happened? Do you need something? A doctor?" His eyes are scanning your body for any signs of pain. His hands running gently over your back, arm, sides, but everything seems normal.

"I-I'm okay, Cho." "No, you aren't. Please, angel, don't lie to me." His own eyes start to fill with tears, but he tries to will them away. He knows he shouldn't be crying, but seeing you in any pain hurts him just as much.

"Cho, I just.. It's stupid." His large hands cup your face so you're forced to meet his eyes. "Nothing that makes you cry is stupid. Absolutely nothing, my love."

"I.. I tried to put on a hoodie of yours because I was cold." He blinks in confusion. "Was.. was it dirty?" "No I.. I stretched it out.." he tilts his head.

"Is that all?" You nod, but even more tears come to your eyes. "I just hate how big I am.. I thought you would find it cute to come home and see me in your clothes but.. I just messed them up.." He stands, suddenly walking into the kitchen. "C-Cho?"

"I bought some of your favorite ice cream. You know, the kind you always crave on your period. I figure we can cuddle and you can enjoy it while we watch a movie."

"I- I don't really want anything to eat." He smiles, still grabbing it and a spoon. "I know, but just in case. Listen," he places the carton on the table next to you, "you're gorgeous. Every part of you just screams beauty. Nothing could ever change that. Not your size, not you stretching out a stupid hoodie, not you crying, nothing."

He opens the carton, only to get a spoonful out and kneel in front of you. "Open up, angel." You do as he says and allow him to feed you the ice cream. You can't help but smile as you eat it.

His index finger wipes a few old tears from your cheeks. "There's that smile I love. Now, I think we need a movie and some cuddles. How does that sound?" You can only nod, absolutely floored by how much Choso truly loves you.

No more negative thoughts came to your mind while you laid against his chest. He even took a few times to feed you more ice cream throughout the movie.

Oh yeah, he totally bought new hoodies in a bigger size so you could wear them around the house without fear of stretching them.

Kento Nanami

- KING ENERGY

- You can't tell me this man doesn't want someone who acts as his pillow. Come on.

- That being said, Nanami knows how it is to be insecure.

- Whether it's over body insecurity or not, that can be argued either way. Still, insecurities aren't something he's ignorant about.

- On days where you can't seem to like your body, he'll do whatever you need.

- Need to be alone? No problem. Need someone to talk to you? Covered. Just need to be told you're loved? He'll tell you as many times as it takes.

- However, he can't help but be blunt. That's just who he is.

- He does it out of love for you, though. He never wants you to believe something that isn't true.

It's really hard for you and Nanami to get the same day off of work, and today was no different. Since you were the one working today, Nanami decided to take up cleaning the house and preparing dinner. He would also insist on doing the dishes, but he knew better. You never allow him to do all of the work.

He watched the clock hit five thirty and smiled. No doubt, that was your car he heard pull into the driveway. Now that you were home, he could surprise you by telling you that he managed to get the next five days off, which matched your schedule.

The front door opens, and he's quick to call out a "Welcome home, dear. Dinner will be done soon." He turns his body, preparing to catch you in his embrace as usual. However, all that happens is you call back, "Thanks, Ken."

His eyebrows furrow, and he quickly takes dinner off the stove so he can go check on you. He's not one to forget anniversaries or anything like that, so his mind is going through any possible reason you just called him Ken.

"Bad day at work, dear?" He wipes his hand on his apron as he comes around the corner. You were already sitting on the couch, eyes on your phone. "Yeah, I guess." "Okay," he sighs and sits beside you, "would you like to talk about it?" When you finally look at him, his eyes widen. Your eyes are puffy, as if you had been crying.

"Y/N.." "It's just coworker drama, Ken, don't worry too much about it." He scrunches his face. Those women you work with always pissed him off. He's noticed them staring at him whenever he brings you lunch. "Well, humor me a bit. What happened today?"

He just knows you can't resist gossiping with him after a work day. "I-I don't want to repeat it, Ken." The worried look in his eyes makes you whimper. "What?"

"I'm not used to you calling me 'Ken' at home." "Sorry, honey. It's nothing you did." He smiles softly and reaches to cup one of your cheeks in his hand. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me?" You do. God, you do because you know you'll cry again and he'll be here to hold you through it.

"They started talking about you." "Me?" "Yeah," you look at your hands, already feeling your chest tighten, "and started laughing at how you're.. settling for someone who is as big as I am.."

Nanami's soft looks suddenly turns harsh. How dare they say stuff like that? What's worse is he's sure they knew you could hear them!

"Really?" When you nod, a tear falls onto your lap. "It just.. really hurt knowing that I'm not the only one who thinks that." "Y/N.." He pulls you into a hug with a soft sigh.

"Don't think like that. Dear, if I wanted anything different than what I have now, you would know it." You sigh and cuddle into his warm embrace. "I know, but-" "But nothing, my love. I love you, only you, forever you. Do you understand?" You glance up and he places a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Yeah.. I love you too, Kento." "I have an idea." "Uh huh?" His smirk has you worried. "Well, we both have the next five days off.." "We do?!"

The excitement in your voice has him chuckling. "There's my pretty laugh. Yes, we do. I'm thinking on your first day back.. you go in with a ring on your finger."

You blink in confusion. "K-Kento, you don't-" "Oh I do. Am I the person to joke about wanting to marry you?" Your eyes start to fill, yet again, with tears. However, these tears make Nanami also tear up a bit.

"Are you... asking..?" "I have a ring just for you in my suit jacket, Y/N. Just say you'll marry me." He isn't really expecting you to jump on him, so when you do, he falls from the couch to the floor. "You know I'll marry you, Ken!"

The two of you share a long kiss, complete with tears and laughter. "Well, now that that's decided. I think we should get a head start on something." "What would that be?"

He stands before securing you in his arms bridal style. "The Prehoneymoon." "That isn't a thing, honey." He smirks before playfully smacking your ass. "For you, Mrs. Nanami, anything is possible."

@katgalle @savonline

[aggravatetheaxe]

BO SINCLAIR X TRANS MAN / MAN ALIGNED READER COMING OUT - Pt. 2 - Over the Moon

This title is NSFW. Pt. 1, Under Your Skin, is Safe For Work. If you're a minor, please read that one instead! This one has s*x in it!

It's been a year since you came out to Bo, and while there have been ups and downs and a lot of new things to get used to, you've both done your best to keep the relationship going. But has he learned how to treat you like a man?

CW: NSFW, descriptions of dysphoria, mentions of deadnaming/misgendering, mentions of murder and mortal peril, words that could be considered slurs and/or fetishizing/objectifying (I mean, come on, it's Bo. We're talking extremely raunchy BUT GENDER AFFIRMING sex.)

Soundtrack: x

Words: 3,431

Part One

Masterlist

***

The sun was just setting over Ambrose by the time Lester's truck pulled up to the washed-out road. With a smile, you shifted the big paper bag in your arms and slid out of the passenger side, calling, "Thanks, Les!" over your shoulder.

"You take care now!" he said back, patting Jonesy's behind as she jumped out after you. "Tell those good fer nothin' brothers of mine 'm sorry I couldn't make it to dinner."

You nodded, filling your lungs with fresh air. You loved the hell out of Lester, but you still weren't used to the smell of his truck. "I'll tell them. Drive safe. Thanks again."

Lester waved as he backed out, then pulled a sharp turn to head down the dirt road again, truck clattering the whole way.

You looked down at Jonesy, who had paused to pee in a nearby bush. "You ready, Jonesy?" When she looked up at you, panting, you said, "I know, it's hot. Come on, let's head home. Go home, Jonesy."

She knew the way, taking point and leading you across the small creek, around the bend and into Ambrose.

Your heart soared the moment you stepped into town. You could see pretty much the whole thing from where you stood: the church, the gas station, the house of wax ... and of course the Sinclair house.

You were eager to go find Bo, but you followed Jonesy to the house of wax first, opening one of the front doors to let her in. She'd find her way down to Vincent, and he'd know to come up to the house for dinner in about an hour—unless he didn't show up at all, which wasn't out of the ordinary.

Jonesy pranced into the dusty darkness of the museum, and you watched her retreating form for a few moments, zoning out.

It had been a year since you'd come out to Bo, Vincent, and Lester. A year now that you'd been living as your true self. It felt like much longer than that, and yet, when you thought about it, it somehow felt like only yesterday that you'd told your favorite mechanic.

After stewing over it and your talks, he'd come to terms with your new lifestyle ... gradually. Grudgingly, at times. But he was trying, and that meant something. These days, he only had to correct himself occasionally.

And that was the thing about Bo. He may be ignorant, and he might not get it, but once he had come to terms with something ... once he had decided that something was acceptable ... he was protective as hell. It might take some work, and he might still tease you about it, but if anyone else said something? God help them.

"Boo!"

You jumped, nearly dropping your paper bag as strong hands squeezed your waist. You turned quickly and were met with Bo's grinning face. "You douchebag!"

He snickered. "Scared you, darlin'?" He leaned to look into your bag. "Get anything good?"

"Get your nose out of there." With a grin of your own, you pushed him gently away by the chest. "It's a surprise."

"You know I hate surprises." Nonetheless, Bo relented, straightening and adjusting the brim of his hat. "I'll lock up the shop, meet you up at the house in ten?"

"Sounds good." You craned your neck to kiss his stubbly, sweaty cheek, then passed him. As you did, he smacked your ass. "Ugh! Come on, dude."

"You know ya like it, dude."

You could still hear him snickering to himself like an idiot as you parted ways, starting up the hill to the house while he returned to the garage. The door was unlocked as usual. You stopped in the kitchen to shove the groceries in the fridge before starting upstairs. It was hot as hell today, and you were in desperate need of a shower, slicked with more sweat than you cared to think about.

Once in the bedroom, you kicked your shoes under the end of the bed, then stripped off your shirt. You'd been wearing your binder for a few hours now, so you peeled it off, relishing the feeling of air hitting your hot skin. As you chucked the binder to the floor, you glanced into the full-length mirror near the dresser.

Your hormone therapy was going well. You were hairier, your face was slightly different, your fat had redistributed and made you squarer in a way that made you downright giddy. Your chest wasn't flat, but more and more every day, you found you didn't care—even enjoyed the look of it. Wearing a binder in public saved you from being misgendered, but around Ambrose, you didn't wear it all that much.

You ghosted your fingers over the hair on your arms and hands, thinking back. The road to the place you were at had been rocky, to say the least. For you and for Bo. When the HRT had started taking effect especially, he'd gotten weird and silent all over again, like it was finally really setting in for him. But he'd rarely voiced any criticisms aloud besides some offhanded asinine comments, so you'd just let him deal with whatever internal struggle he was dealing with.

Those days had been a struggle for you, too. But by now, he'd gotten over himself. He even dutifully helped with your shots, administering them like they were the most serious shit in the world.

It made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, how far he had come. How far you'd both come. For a few long minutes, you were lost in your scrutiny, fingering stretch marks and admiring your hands.

You were so deep in thought that when the bedroom door creaked open, you jumped, instinctively covering your chest before you realized who it was. "You scared me."

"That's twice today." Bo smirked as he hung his hat on one of the bedposts. "You sure are jumpy."

"You're almost as quiet as Vincent when you wanna be." You bit your lip and glanced back at the mirror.

In the reflection, you noticed Bo looking you up and down slowly. After a beat, he approached from behind, wrapping his arms around your middle and meeting your gaze. As he did, he raised his hands to your chest, strong fingers rubbing your breast tissue in deep circles. Ever since you'd complained about how tender you got after being compressed for hours, he'd done this. You were pretty sure it was just an excuse to touch your boobs, but it felt nice at least.

You relaxed back into him with a sigh, letting him support you a bit. "How was your day?"

"A lot better now that you're home, handsome." He craned his head to kiss your neck and stayed like that, mouth buried in the crook. "Fuck, you smell good," he mumbled into your skin, fingers never stilling.

You couldn't help but squirm a little under his praise. You smelled like sweat, and worse, man sweat, but Bo always seemed fascinated with it, more than content to snuggle up to you and take your changing body in.

"I smell like a highschool gym locker," you mumbled, though you couldn't hide your goofy smile in the mirror.

He raised his eyes and brows to meet your gaze in the reflection again. "You sure? I used ta play football ... don't remember the other guys smellin' this hot."

You squeezed one of the arms around your waist, trying to ignore the heat of your face. The sight of him rubbing your breasts and the feeling of his rough fingers against your sensitive skin was already crazy-making enough. "I bet you found it a little hot."

A year ago, you wouldn't have dared make a joke like that. You didn't even wanna think about how offended he would've gotten. Now, though, his only reaction was a smile that crinkled his eyes and a little sparkle in his pupils.

"All those sweaty, strong guys bumping up against each other in steamy close quarters." Your smile turned into a grin. "Bet it kinda turned you on."

Bo snorted. "Wouldn't really know. I usually changed in the janitor's closet." A bit of vulnerability flashed in his eyes, but he quickly recovered by focusing the attention back on you. "Anyway, none a' them were like you. Where you goin', lookin' like that?"

As he spoke, his hands slid down your front, hugging your hips so your ass was pressed tight against him. You shivered hard. "Looking like what? This is just my body."

He grunted, and you watched in fascination as his gaze ate you up. He rubbed your flanks with his thumbs. "You're a real pretty boy, you know that? Not like other guys at all..."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you suppressed the urge to hide your face in your hands. Still, you averted your eyes from the mirror, too shy to look at yourself any longer. "I dunno about that, but thanks."

Bo shifted. He huffed in your ear, and you lifted your head enough to see him frowning down at you. After a few moments, his expression changed to something slightly more neutral, eyes alight. "Don't make me hafta teach you a lesson, sweetheart. I might enjoy it too much."

Those words sent a thrill up your spine, flipping your stomach. He looked like a predator about to strike its prey, and god, it took everything you had not to give in right away. You raised your chin in a challenge. "What lesson is that, hm?"

Bo's expression shifted again. He grinned, bottom lip caught between his teeth. One hand left your hip, wrapping around your throat just under your chin.

Then, he pivoted, and with one good yank, threw you onto the bed.

You loosed a soft breath as you bounced on the mattress, looking up at him. Defiance fluttered its wings in your chest. "Well? You never answered my question."

"Shh." His hand returned, this time over your mouth. "None a' that now. I'm not in the mood for dolin' out punishment. You just sit there nice 'n' lemme show you what ya do to me, understand?"

Even if you could say something with his hand over your mouth, all you wanted to do was stare at him—at those beautiful blue eyes that seemed to see right through you.

"Tch." His crooked grin made a brief appearance, though it was more of a snarl, showing off his gums. "What a good li'l soldier."

With that, Bo moved in on you, kissing you hard. Teeth and noses clashed painfully before he drew you closer and deeper, his tongue exploring you like he could drink you in. You returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm, grunting into his mouth, then giving a groan when you felt his large hand cup you between the legs.

A sharp inhale, and he pulled back slightly. His lips moved against yours as he whispered, "Whose is that? Who does this pussy belong to, dickbait?"

Your breath hitched. "You."

"Me. That's right." He squeezed and rubbed through your jeans. You could already feel how wet you were, folds sliding together. A second later, he'd undone your button and zipper and slipped his hand into your underwear. "Fuck, that's nice." His lips still brushed against yours, breath hot on your face and in your mouth. "Love that boy cunt. You're just as wet, aintcha?"

As he stroked you, his thumb found your swollen clit. You gasped when he put pressure on it.

"So wet for your man."

You shuddered and dared to quip back, "And it looks like you're pretty hard for yours."

Finally, he pulled back to meet your eyes, lust warring with challenge. He stared for a few moments before saying, his voice nearly a growl, "I'mmuna make you come, pussyboy. Yeah. Squirt all up my stomach 'n' chest ... we'll see if you still gimme an attitude once you're screamin' and shakin' under me."

You had no smart comeback for that. You simply melted onto his hand, grinding against him as he slid two fingers inside your hot, needy pussy. The feeling of him curling his fingers and stroking you deep already had you biting back incoherent dirty talk, every nerve electric.

"Pretty young buck like you, walkin' around lookin' like that ... you're just askin' for dick." He licked his lips and used his other hand to help you shimmy out of your jeans. Soon, you were bare, gushing all over his fingers as he loomed over you. "Am I right?"

"Y-Yeah," you pushed out, leaning back on your palms so he could get a better angle. "Fuck, Bo—"

"Y/N," he mumbled back, free hand gripping the back of your head. "Y/N."

You heard him say your name all the time, but the way he said it now, the way he was staring into your eyes ... you knew this meant something more. He wasn't just fucking you, he was fucking you. He was seeing you.

You couldn't take it anymore. Your head was spinning with every circle his thumb made around your clit, but you needed more. With a strangled gasp, you gripped his biceps. "Bo, baby, inside—fuck, please, I need you."

He smirked above you. "Not until you admit you're the handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose."

You groaned. "Come on!"

"Sorry, gorgeous, those're the rules. C'mon, lemme hear you say it."

Your cheeks burned, but he wouldn't stop playing with your pussy, and you didn't want to come without his cock inside you. "I-I can't," you muttered, only half joking. "What about you, big cat?"

"Besides me." He thrust his fingers in particularly firmly, drawing a shout from you. "Say, 'I'm the handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose.' I wanna see you say it while you're ridin' my hand, and you better convince me."

You panted for a few more moments before finally giving in, sputtering, "I'm the ... handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose," followed immediately by a groan, your eyes rolling back in your head.

"I'm not buyin' it."

"I'm the handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose!" He certainly made you feel like it.

"Good boy." After one last jerk, Bo drew his fingers from you, going to work his belt off. His cock sprung from his Dickies, already red and glistening with precum. He caught your calves in iron grips as he lined himself up with your hole. "I c'n smell you. Slut. So fuckin' messy for me."

As he slid in, your head lolled back. You dropped to your elbows, then gave up completely and laid flat, unable to hold yourself up for shaking.

Bo almost cooed, throbbing gently inside you. "Lookit my beautiful boyfriend ... already half way ta heaven. Haven't even started poundin' that sloppy boy pussy yet. Ya can't lose it on me already, ace."

Even the stupid nicknames got you hot somehow. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, panting. When he began to thrust, you yowled like a hurt animal, the drag of his dick sending flames spitting through your limbs.

His grip tightened as he rolled his hips into you, in and out, in and out, picking up pace. "You like that, loverboy? Shit, sure looks like ya do." He lifted his chin. "Stick your tongue out."

Obediently, you parted your lips with your tongue, trying not to drool too much.

Bo couldn't hide the way his eyes sparkled as he watched your mouth, or the way his dick swelled in you. His hips moved faster, your slickness enough for him to glide. It felt so nice, but that alone wouldn't make you come, and he knew that—he was savoring this.

Eventually, his shirt found its way to the floor, followed by his pants and boxer-briefs. The sight of him bare with you, glistening in the hot afternoon, made it hard to breathe.

With one of his hands, he propped your leg up so it was resting against his chest and slightly over his shoulder; with the other, he explored your torso, dragging his calloused hands up your hip, across your stomach, to your breasts. He still played with them often, sucking and squeezing, and you found you didn't mind. The way it made you feel and the way he was looking at you, how could you ever hate it? Plus, you weren't sure he'd take no for an answer regardless.

A growl ripped from your chest as he bent to suck one of your nipples, latching on for a few moments before flicking his tongue, then running it flat in circles. He whispered heatedly, lips brushing against you, accent slurring, "I love your tits ... you know I love ya tits, righ'? Fuck, ya so hot..."

You knew he'd miss them if you decided to get rid of them. Honestly, that was half the reason you were reconsidering that idea. You never wanted to forget the way he worshiped them: licking, sucking, slapping, squeezing his dick between them...

"Come on, romeo," Bo panted, his mouth still against your chest as he plowed into you. Wet clapping filled the room as his balls met your ass, again and again, almost unbearably warm. "Come on, fuck ya'self off tha'."

He loosened his grip on you, giving you more freedom to move. Now he was fucking firmer, his angle more deliberate, the hot head of his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. You loosed another yowl and bucked your hips to meet his.

"Bo," you groaned. "Bo, Bo..."

"Tha's my man." He was losing control of himself, his voice choked and desperate. "Tha's my man. Tha's my fuckin' man."

"Yeah—! You— you like fucking other guys, angel? Huh?"

Bo exhaled harshly, twitching inside you. "Like makin' 'em scream, too. 'Specially this one. My— handsome li'l— pussyboy—"

You could feel the muscles of his sweat-slicked thighs and abs flexing as he tried to hold himself back, trying to keep himself from finishing. You knew one comment from you would push him over the edge ... so you waited until you were at your edge, too, to choke out: "Fill that slutty boy pussy up, cher. Show me who's the big man around here, who gets to come wherever he wants. Show me who's boss— fuck—!"

Bo lurched, sinking his teeth in the crook of your neck. Every inch of him tensed, cock jumping, and you saw white as your entire core became molten between your orgasm and his.

When you were next aware of your surroundings, he had collapsed into you, slumped a bit awkwardly over the edge of the bed. He was breathing hard, his hair damp with sweat. It dripped down his spine, too, and down the back of your thighs. You gripped him tightly, wrapping your arms and legs around him, and the two of you stayed like that for a minute or so.

Eventually, he pulled away, rolling onto his back beside you. One of his strong, square hands still gripped your wrist, though, thumb brushing the back of your hand lightly. He opened his pretty blue eyes, all long lashes as he blinked away the haze of his climax.

Then he looked over at you—and, of course, found you already staring at him. His lips quirked up in a smirk. "Angel?"

You could feel yourself flush. "Romeo?"

The smirk turned into a wolfish grin, and he propped himself up on one elbow, stealing a kiss. "You're cute," he declared after a moment, like he was giving his official opinion on the subject.

"You're one to talk. Can we at least agree that I'm the second handsomest man in Ambrose?"

Bo heaved a sigh. "A'right, a'right, fine. Guess numero uno is my cross ta bear."

"Always."

With a laugh, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close for a kiss. It started heated and rough, but as the seconds passed, it became more tender. He slipped a hand into your hair and held you in the kiss for an extended period before pulling away, an intense gaze searching your face.

"I love you," he breathed. "Ya know that, right?"

It wasn't often he said it unprompted; usually when he told you he loved you, it was because you'd said it first. At once, tears sprung to your eyes, and you leaned in for another quick kiss.

You did know—you did. And more importantly, he knew. He knew everything and he still said those three little words. He saw you and this and he still wanted all of it.

And fuck, you wanted it, too.

***

Masterlist

Tip Jar

[angelicsentinel]

give us a snippet oooof, let's see..... wip 16

Hahaha, I do number them, actually. Thank you! That's much more specific. And Unposted WIP 16 it is, aptly and creatively titled, "Trans Ran." This is incomplete and ends abruptly, and rough, and this one covers fairly heavy subject matter like bullying and dysphoria.

-

(1)

Yoshi's crying.

Again.

Shinichi crouches down beside him, holding out his hand.

"Hey, hey," he says. "Don't mind them."

"I can't help it," he says, "they're right about me."

"No," Shinichi says firmly. "They're not." He keeps his hand extended.

Eventually, Yoshi takes it, wiping his tears away with the sleeve of his other hand. "All I am is a mistake."

"That's not true at all," Shinichi says, pulling him up. "Who else broke Kyōgoku Makoto's winning streak? It certainly wasn't me."

"Shinichi—"

"Besides, you could kick all their asses if you wanted to, we both know you could." He checks him for bruises. It's just like he thought. They were too afraid to rough him up. Emotional hurt is bad enough, though.

Yoshio sniffles.

"So why didn't you?"

Silence.

"What, c'mon, we tell each other everything, you're like a brother to me."

Yoshi flinches. "You'll hate me."

Shinichi furrows his brow. "I sincerely doubt that."

"They threatened to tell you, and that's why." He scuffs his foot against the pavement, crossing his arms against his chest.

"All the more reason to tell me, so they can't hold it over your head anymore."

Yoshio is quiet for a long time. Then he says, "I like you, Shinichi." Then he flinches back, like he's afraid Shinichi's going to hit him.

It makes Shinichi's heart lurch, and a blush rises to his face. "Ah, okay." He clears his throat. "That's nothing to be frightened of, all right? C'mere." Yoshio blinks at him, eyes wide, and takes a tentative step forward.

Shinichi pulls him into a tight hug. Yoshio's stiff at first, and then he relaxes, wrapping his arms around Shinichi and sobbing into his shoulder. Shinichi rubs his back. "I've never thought of you that way, but I'm not just going to abandon you." To be honest, Shinichi's never really thought of anyone that way.

Yoshio sniffs, clearing his throat. "I don't need you to return it," he says, his voice hoarse. "I just don't want you to hate me."

"Friends forever, right?" Shinichi says, pulling away to look at his face.

That gets him a smile. "Yeah. Friends forever." And then, “Hey, Shinichi. Will you call me Ran?”

Understanding dawns then, and he looks at him. No. He looks at her in a new light. Shinichi takes his handkerchief out of his pocket, cups her face, and cleans her tears gently.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ran,” Shinichi says.

She beams.

(2)

High school boys are the worst. This time, Shinichi doesn't restrict himself to words. He may not be a national karate champion but he can kick a ball, and when he finds out his own team is picking at Ran he leaves them in a bruised pile of soccer ball rage, where Ran can't see.

He and Ran end up walking home on their usual route the next day.

"No soccer practice today?" Ran asks.

Shinichi stretches his arms above his head. "Nope, quit the team."

"But Shinichi, you loved playing."

"Been thinking about devoting time to improve my logic and reason, becoming a detective. The way Holmes could see to the inside of every case is just so amazing! I'd like to be just like him!'

"Detective nerd," Ran says fondly and punches him in the arm.

"No shopping with Sonoko today?" Shinichi says, and there's a distinct, loaded silence.

"...She's grounded," Ran says.

"I don't understand?"

"I'm a terrible influence, apparently," Ran says morosely. "And a pervert."

"You're the kindest person I know," Shinichi says, offended on her behalf. The Suzuki family were usually better about this sort of thing, and Ran and Sonoko had been very close for a long time. "If anything, I'm the one that has to worry about your wicked ways," he adds, wiggling his eyebrows to show he's joking, and that gets a laugh from her.

Shinichi's glad they can joke about that kind of thing.

"Thanks, Shinichi," Ran says with a teary laugh.

"You know I don't mind, right?" Shinichi says.

"Huh?"

"About anything. You know that, right?"

Ran watches him, inscrutable. Then suddenly, she presses him up against the wall with surprising strength, face terribly close to Shinichi's own.

It sends a strange thrill through him. Shinichi licks his lips, nervous, but unafraid. "Trying to scare me won't work," he says. "I still don't care."

"They insulted you," Ran says, and it's clear she's torn up about it.

"So what?" Shinichi says. "Maybe it's true."

She drops Shinichi like his touch scalds her. "Don't be mean like that, don't give me hope."

"Would I do something like that?"

"...No."

Shinichi reaches up, cups Ran's cheek in his hand. Searches her eyes and then leans forward. He presses a soft kiss to her lips. "You're still my best friend. I don't care about any other labels."

Ran flees.

(3)

Shinichi tries not to be angry about it. Ran's always had a tender heart, even when they were small. They met when someone had made her cry; Sonoko had threatened to beat them up, and Shinichi and Sonoko had instantly formed a fast friendship over protecting her. He resolves to wait, to let Ran come to him.

But it's hard, as the days pass and Ran still avoids him.

So Shinichi talks to Sonoko, instead.

"She's alright?" Shinichi asks yet again.

"For the thousandth time, yes," Sonoko complains.

"Will you please give her my love?" Shinichi says, and Sonoko stares at him. “Tell her that I meant every word.”

“I can’t believe you actually confessed,” she mutters.

Shinichi winces. “It’s that obvious?”

Sonoko nods. “Oh yeah.”

[normal-thoughts-official]

With a little help from your friends (the help is praise kink and the friend is your boyfriend)

Who would have thought that fucking your boyfriend senseless cures dysphoria.

Alternatively: being a dom is actually something that can be so gender,

Fandom: It Lives (Visual Novels)

Pairing: Andy Kang/Tom Sato

Additional tags: let's see, mild mentions of transphobic and racist comments, Comfort Sex, the filthiest comfort sex uve ever seen but WHATEVER, dom andy kang, sub tom sato, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Dom/sub Play, Collars, Praise Kink, basically someone says transphobic shit and then tom rides him and talks about how wonderful andy is, except tom has also been in denial for a few days and he's super horny, and andy gets in domspace and everything is great and nothing hurts, Fluff and Smut, Humor, cuz u know these two are incapable of taking anything too seriously, Established Relationship, oh they're both in college and they go to the same college cuz i said so, set after the events of it lives beneath, that's it I think, trans author if that matters to you

Read it on Ao3

Andy isn't having a great day. It's not a terrible, clawing-at-his-chest-trying-to-deal-with-dysphoria kind of day, but he's been trying out this "not comparing everything to the worst possible scenario" thing his therapist has been talking about, so still, not a great day.

The thing is, he thought college would be easier. And it is, in a lot of ways. For starters, there is no evil monster spectre trying to kill him, which gives college at least 5 points over high school. And his uni has a pretty solid queer club, so he knows other trans people there. Some of them are even non-white. Some of them he even actually, truly likes. And most of the time, he feels like he has a place to turn to, and people to support him. He's not alone. He has people who get him. And that makes all the difference.

But basketball is still a nightmare, and his knee still hurts when it's cold, and winter is officially starting now.

People still hesitate to pass the ball to him, and it's frustrating, because Andy fought so hard to earn his old team's trust and now he's back at square zero. And well, Andy has been gaining this team's trust, because he's good, goddamn it, and his team owes at least the last three victories to him. He's not hesitant to say that, especially because otherwise no one will. And he can see that they look at him differently now - nod at him in the hallways, at least, talk to him in the locker room, pass him the fucking ball if his position is very, very open.

But if he weren't trans and Asian, he wouldn't have had to work so hard to get all of that - or well, just that, really. He has a full sports scholarship despite the fact that he had a broken leg, had to retake his last year of high school, and doesn't even have the body type for basketball. If he weren't Asian, if he weren't trans, his team would have assumed his greatness from day one. Instead, he has to show it to them time and time again only to get them to reluctantly admit maybe he's not bad. No one calls him "triple threat" anymore, but he still has to work three times harder than anyone else, and it's frustrating.

And usually Andy can deal with it, but right now his knee hurts, and he can't afford that because he'll lose everything he's worked for if his teammates know that his fucking knee hurts. So, he braved training and then he got the fuck out of there without even changing so no one would see him wince. Which means he's still in basketball shorts, which are short, in the cold, which means his leg hurts more.

At times like these, he's thankful he never got the chance to go through with his promise to break his other leg kicking Noah's ass. Because he would have, and then both his legs would be hurting right now, and two legs that hurt every time it's cold is just too many legs.

No comparing to the worst possible scenario, he tells himself. Therapy is so hard. If he had known there would be homework, he would have thought twice about going.

And that's, apparently, the cue for his phone to go off. Andy smiles, knowing who it is even before he opens the message, because only one person messages him during class, and it's the only person he wants to hear from right now.

Tom <3 sent you a message

Grinning like a fool, he opens it.

Tom <3: dude, im horny af rn. the fuck

Finally, good news, Andy thinks, smiling. Then he remembers why Tom is so horny, and suddenly this day is great, actually.

He quickly types a reply.

You: who wouldve thought that 3 days of denial would make this happen

Tom <3: ill have u kno i was very good at holding it together before today

You: yeah, dw. soon u wont have to hold it anymore ;)

Tom <3: that flirt was terrible, dude

You: said the guy whos calling me dude for the second time in this conversation

Tom <3: what else should i call u? 😩

Andy thinks for a second. Tom and him do longer-term denial every once in a while, but they aren't in a 24/7 relationship. Does Andy really want to go there right now? Yes. Well, that was fast. Okay then.

You: how about "sir"

Tom's reply comes fast as lightning.

Tom <3: Yes, Sir.

Andy smirks at himself.

You: uve been hoping that id say that, havent u?

Tom types for just a little longer this time.

Tom <3: Yes, Sir.

----

Many things are wrong with the world, and Andy doesn't mean to make light of the other things, but the fact that Andy can't simply go and fuck his boyfriend whenever he wants is definitely one of them. It should be, like, financial compensation or something. We're so sorry the school environment is transphobic, here, have a free sex pass. Sounds fair to him. But instead, he still has two hours of classes to go through, and Andy is a better guy than he wishes he was, so he tells Tom to pay attention to class instead of sexting him, because he doesn't want Tom to struggle even more with his course when he had already had to leave it once. God damn true love or whatever.

The point is, by the time classes are finally over, his day is back to not being that great; he's tired, and his leg hurts. He gets to their car after Tom does, and Tom takes one look at him, and says, "I'm driving".

Andy crosses his arms. "Why?"

"Because your leg hurts," Tom answers, rolling his eyes and taking Andy's bag from him and putting it in the trunk.

Andy looks down at his legs. He wasn't limping. There aren't any bruises. How the hell-

"It's cold and you're in shorts. I'm not an idiot, dude."

Right. Yeah. Right. Of course. Tom knows. It's… It's alright.

"Bad day at training?" Tom asks, slowly, sympathetically, and Andy feels himself settle in his skin a little bit.

"The usual," he answers, getting inside, and, as always, Tom gets the hint.

---

Their uni's dorms are gender-segregated because these guys have still not gotten the memo that people of the same gender fuck; and Andy wasn't willing to deal with cis college guys' bullshit, much less cis college girls' bullshit; and the uni wouldn't let him simply pick Tom as his roommate. So, they rented out a beat up apartment right next to it instead. It took a little longer to get there, but it wasn't a lot longer, and well, it was worth it.

Tom gets inside, still carrying Andy's bag because he's transphobic and unfair and had taken it and bolted up running so Andy wouldn't have a chance to argue with him. And Andy can't run after him with his leg hurting, which kind of proves Tom's point that he should carry Andy's bag. All in all, Tom is the worst, and he turns up the heat as soon as he gets inside and sits Andy down on the bed, kneeling in front of him to take a look at Andy's knee.

He's silent for a while, massaging his knee until Andy sighs and throws his head back, before Tom plants a little kiss on his knee and looks up at him. Andy's knee always stops hurting when Tom kisses it better. It's a little embarrassing, if Andy is being honest, but still- nice. Really nice.

They stay for a little longer like this, Tom humming and massaging his knee and Andy not meeting his eyes, until the question inevitably comes.

"What happened?" Tom asks, not letting up with the smooth movements of his hands, his eyes big and sincere with worry.

"Nothing. Just the cold. You know how my knee gets."

"I meant, for you to leave practice without putting some warmer clothes on."

Andy looks away. "It was nothing."

"Dude, are you expecting me to go, 'okay, yeah, that totally makes sense and I believe you', or…?"

Andy laughs, despite himself, and throws his good leg up in an almost-kick to pretend he's retaliating. "Don't be an ass."

"I'm not. Come on, Andy. You know you can tell me."

"It's nothing, it's just- Kyle-"

"Oh boy."

Andy laughs. "Yeah." But then he grows serious, "the thing is, he doesn't mean any harm, you know? I know he's not saying it to hurt me, and so that just means that, like... that it's true."

Tom's hands stop their movements, rubbing soothing circles around his knee instead. "What did he say?"

Andy doesn't look at him. "He asked me why I didn't stay on the women's team. Said that I could have an advantage, cuz Asian people are androgynous anyway, so no one would notice that I was taking hormones."

Tom just stares at him in shock for a moment.

"And I was like, 'dude, I've been on T for three years, I'm pretty sure they would notice the changes'. And he was like, 'yeah, but you still look like a lot of Asian girls with short hair, you could write it off if you wanted', and I just…" He trails off.

Tom waits in silence for a second, seeing if Andy finds his words, before asking, "Is Kyle, like, okay?"

Andy scoffs. "I didn't try and fight him, if that's what you're asking."

"No, I mean, does this dude have a screw loose or something?"

"He's very bad at figuring out what is or isn't offensive, yeah, but it's not like he really cares, he just won't go out of his way to antagonize me."

"No, I just- Andy, even when you were a little kid with huge pigtails, anyone would have to be crazy to see you as a girl."

Andy bites the inside of his lip. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not. It's just wrong, man. It was so obvious that it was wrong. Anyone could tell. There's nothing about you that says 'girl' to anyone who's looking."

Andy sighs, finally risking looking at Tom's eyes. There's overwhelming sincerity there, and Andy instinctively looks away. "I guess. Maybe. I don't know. It just got me thinking... Maybe T didn't change anything. Maybe I look exactly the same, maybe it was just hopeful thinking that had me thinking it would change anything, maybe it's just- pointless to even try-"

"No, no, come on," Tom says, and the interruption is so sudden it makes Andy look at him again, just in time to see Tom shaking his head vigorously. "There's no way you believe that. What about this bad boy over here?" He smiles, reaching out softly to caress Andy's neck. "You have more of an Adam's Apple than me, dude. And we both know you don't need T to be a guy, but thinking it made no difference is just crazy and you know it. What about those dry pecs? These broad shoulders of yours? Your voice, I mean, come on. You even smell different, man. How can it be pointless, if even your scent is different?"

Andy looks to the side again, but he can feel himself smile. "Well, when you put it like that..."

Tom gets up, but stays close, putting his hand on Andy's cheek, slowly, as if testing the waters, before turning him slightly to look at him. "Andy. Kyle is an idiot and a transphobic racist who's too damn lazy to realize how fucked up he is. And you shouldn't have to deal with that, and I'm sorry, and I will set him on fire."

Andy laughs. "You can't keep threatening to set every shitty teammate I have on fire."

"I can, because it keeps making you laugh," Tom says, smiling. Well. Andy can't argue with that. "My point is, you wouldn't listen to a word this dude says if it were about anyone else, so don't listen to him when he talks about you, okay? T or no T, you're no girl, and you don't look like a girl, and regardless of whether or not Kyle's dumb ass noticed it, your transition has been doing you good. Remember when your voice started to crack and get all weird? I've never seen anyone be that happy about it."

Andy laughs. "It was pretty awful."

"No, it was great, 'cause you loved it. Do you want me to pull out the 'before' pictures we took in case this happened? Look at yourself, dude. You fit so much better in your own skin, you know? And like, you've always been gorgeous, but-"

"Come here," Andy interrupts, pulling him down because Tom is standing and Andy is sitting and Andy is already height-challenged. And Tom goes willingly, carefully straddling Andy's lap and meeting him in a kiss. Finally, Andy thinks.

Tom kisses him softly, slowly, one hand resting on the back of Andy's head and the other draped lazily over his shoulder, as he usually does, all gentle and a little hesitant, and Andy is having none of that. So he grabs Tom's hair and deepens the kiss, bringing him closer until their chests are flushed together and he can feel Tom's hips mindlessly making little circles against Andy's belly.

They separate - or well, stop kissing, really, because Tom is still as close to Andy as physically possible, and Andy feels about ready to shoot anyone who tries to push him further away. Tom's a little breathless, and his hips are still making these almost imperceptible movements against Andy, and Andy realizes that he's still grabbing Tom's hair and that he's a little breathless, too.

Tom looks down at him for a second, as if debating something with himself, before saying, "and like, not to be horny during a serious moment, but since we're talking about the effects of T... Andy. Andy. Your clit. Fuck. It's so huge now, and it's got a visible head and you can fuck my face and everything, and I could sing it praises for a week and probably will if you don't stop me right now."

"Hmm, but I like it when you sing me praises," he smiles. "Keep going."

"God, I was hoping you'd say that. Do you have any idea how much I've been thinking about it today? I didn't hear a single word anyone said to me, all I could think about was you fucking my face, pulling my hair, making me worship you and beg to be allowed to suck you off, I wanna serve you like you're my God." Tom's hips start to jerk up, more visibly this time, shameless, and see, this is why Andy's been really, really liking this whole denial thing - Tom has only started to explore his subby side recently, a little ashamed of it to admit it to anyone, even himself. But when he's horny enough, he gets shameless and desperate about what he wants, and god, nothing is more beautiful than Tom when he asks for what he wants. He feels something growing inside of him, not sure if it's warmth or heat, but seeing Tom like that, wanting him, needing him, definitely makes him feel so much better.

"Yeah?" Andy asks, tracing a finger over Tom's shoulder, close to his neck, just to give him goosebumps.

"Fuck yes, I want it so bad, and you deserve it too, Andy… Sir. You're the best Sir I could ask for, I just want… Want you to use me, want you to cum on me, want to kiss you all over and worship you and pleasure you, you're so gorgeous..." He hides his face in Andy's shoulder for a bit, but his hips don't stop moving. He whines, "Andy..."

"Address me properly," Andy snaps, feeling the edges of worry clear from his mind and giving way to that wonderful feeling of clear-mindedness, of power, where nothing matters but his own pleasure. "And maybe I'll give you what you want, if you earn it."

Tom nods, hips full on thrusting now, and Andy snaps again. "Stay still."

And he does, immediately, without question, biting his lip and keeping his eyes shut with effort. Andy can feel his thighs clenching and spasming over his, trying to keep himself from moving, trying to be good. He hums in appreciation, but doesn't praise him for it, not yet.

"I'll get you ready," Andy explains, before reaching to Tom's hair, and starts to undo his bun, as slow as possible, just to watch him squirm. He gets so impatient when Andy undresses him, which is why Andy never misses a chance to drag it out.

He begins by removing Tom's jacket, sliding his hands slowly over his shoulders, then down his back, feeling the firm muscle there, digging his nails just a little bit so he can see Tom's eyes flutter in bliss. When the jacket falls to the floor, Andy begins circling the hem of his shirt, sliding until his hands are back on front, fingers just close enough to Tom's cock for him to feel Tom tense in his hands, so damn sensitive to his touch, so needy. God, he can't get enough of this, but he pretends that he doesn't notice, lets Tom try and keep himself together as Andy's hands slide over his belly, then chest, over the shirt, collarbone, wrapping and resting on Tom's throat just so he feels the threat of it, before Andy finally grabs the back of the shirt's collar and tugs, taking it off. Then he slides his hands back down, making sure to run a finger just over the sensitive spot where his pecs end, then lower, over his ribcage, belly, hips, next to the bruises where Andy had grabbed him the night before, then back to the middle, just over the bulge in his pants, and Tom finally breaks and jerks up slightly, letting out a little moan.

"Sir," he whines, "please, please, I-" Andy continues to circle the head of his cock with his finger, "please!"

"Patience," is all he says, before going back to his painfully light movements, imagining Tom's needy cock twitching under his fingers, imagining the effort Tom makes not to thrust up or keep begging for more, just because Andy told him not to. "You know how much I like playing with your pretty little cock. You said you wanted to serve me, didn't you?"

"Yes- yes, Sir."

He hums, noncommittally, not looking at him. "Good." He teases the tip of his clothed cock some more, enjoying the way his mind zeroes on that, the way he feels like he has all the power and the time in the world. Finally, he pats Tom's thigh once. "Get off, and take off the rest of your clothes. Get the lube and a condom."

Tom gets up, a little shaky, and does as instructed, while Andy reaches down to the drawer under the bed where he keeps his dick's spine and a few of their toys. He gets the spine, then adjusts his packer briefs so he can put it on - best purchase of his life, really, those briefs. So much easier to use than a regular strap-on and it makes the packer sit over his clit just right, making a little suction and pressure. Andy couldn't be happier that he was already wearing them.

Tom gets back with everything he asked right in time for Andy to finish making his dick hard, and goes on to put the condom on and cover Andy's cock in lube with the kind of attention that makes Andy hold his breath. Tom's so careful, yet eager, and adoring, about it. Andy feels like the hottest guy in the world.

Once he gets permission, Tom sits on his cock, slowly, getting adjusted to it - admittedly, Andy went a little overboard when he bought his first cock. Andy waits until Tom is fully seated, littering his neck with little kisses and praise for how well he's taking him, how pretty he looks, until Tom looks fully comfortable and ready to start complaining if Andy doesn't start fucking him in earnest soon. That's when Andy shows him the other item he pulled from the drawer - Tom's favorite collar.

Tom's reaction is instantaneous. He throws his head back, moving over Andy's cock as he lets out a breathless, almost choked moan; the hands he had resting on Andy's shoulders suddenly squeezing full force in his need.

"God, you're such a whore," Andy says, casually, and Tom nods, even as he flushes. The collar is just a simple black one, with a little hoop for the leash, but inside they had it engraved with the words Andy's whore, and it left visible marks that could be seen for a few hours after they took it off. It never failed to drive Tom crazy, so it always drove Andy crazy, too. "Stay still," he warns, and Tom nods, breathing heavily, gripping Andy's shoulder as tight as he can as he stays frozen in place. Andy slowly puts it around his neck, checking with his finger to make sure it's not too tight, and the second he clasps it in place, Tom's whole body relaxes, a content little sigh escaping his lips, his face slack and blissed out. He likes being owned, so much. Andy can't get enough of it. "Good?" he asks, just to make sure it's not too tight.

"Perfect," Tom answers, the words leaving him in a sigh. Andy then ties the leash to the headboard, making sure that they're just far enough from it that he'll be feeling its pull the whole time. Tom lets out a moan. "Thank you, Sir."

Andy smirks. "Now, here's what I want you to do," he says, "you're going to ride me, just like that, and you're not going to come until I tell you to. You're definitely not going to come before I do. If you come close, you'll have to tell me. I want to hear you scream, so make as much noise as you want. Do you understand?"

Tom nods again, almost dizzyingly quick. "Yes, Sir."

"Good, then get to it."

Tom doesn't need to be told twice. He starts riding him, slowly at first, trying to find the perfect angle for Andy - not himself, Andy notices, pleased. Once it's perfect, Andy orders, "faster, slut,” and Tom obeys, as always, working up speed as he tries to keep himself upright, feeling the tug of his leash with every movement, moaning the whole time. “Good boy,” Andy says, and Tom’s responding whine is high pitched, embarrassing, needy. He gets even faster then, starting to babble as he keeps on working, and Andy just stays casually in place, not having to do a single thing while Tom works to give him pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so perfect, did you know that?" Tom asks, quickly sliding down on Andy's cock, making sure he puts all this weight in the end so Andy's cock will press down against his clit just the way he likes, making sure to go as deep as possible, "I've been dreaming of your cock for days, god, Sir, nothing's better than this," he hides his face in Andy's shoulder, speeding up even more, thighs shaking with the effort, and Andy puts a fist in his hair and pulls, watching as Tom throws his head back and lets out a scream, working even faster on Andy's cock. "Sir!," he whines, "oh, thank you, thank you, feels so good, oh my god, please, I'm gonna-"

"No, you won't," Andy interrupts, "I'm not even close to coming yet. Keep working, slut."

"Y-yes, Sir," he whines, going faster, deeper, and Andy makes it harder for him, keeps pulling at his hair to expose his neck, litters kisses and bites on his exposed throat, grabs his thigh and squeezes hard enough to bruise so Tom remembers he's his, his whore, his toy.

"I love it when you get like this," Andy says, doing his best to keep his tone even, even as he's a little breathless from pleasure, from power, "I bet you want to come so bad, don't you? If I'd just give you the word, you'd be making a mess of yourself, coming on my cock right now-"

"Fuck! Yes, yes, Sir, please, I'm so close."

Andy smiles. "No."

Tom whines, so cute, adorable, and Andy is nice enough to leave a little kiss on his shoulder, grounding, calming him down. Before going right back to torturing him, "no, you don't get to come for a long time yet. I want you just like this, on edge, tasting it…" Andy grins. "Tell me how close you are, baby."

"I'm- I'm so close-"

Andy slaps him in the face. "You can do better than that."

"Fuck, I feel like I'm going to explode, I'm so close, I want it so bad, and you feel so good, God, you have no idea what you do to me, Sir, your cock is so perfect, it hurts, I need it- need to cum on your cock, Sir, please-"

"No."

Tom chokes on a moan, and starts to go even faster. He lets out a little whine, something Andy thinks was supposed to be a word, but doesn't come close.

"See," Andy says, "this is why I won't let you come. Look at you - every time I tell you no, you get so desperate, so obedient - it's what you want, isn't it? You want me to keep telling you no, you want to know your pleasure doesn't matter, that you're just here to serve me."

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes-"

"Good, then keep going. And beg all you want- I like telling you no, too."

Tom does. He begs, and he says thank you when Andy denies him, again and again and again. Thank you, Sir, thank you for using me, for putting me in my place, I'm yours, I'm yours. And he keeps on praising Andy, praising his cock, his body, the way he fucks him and uses him, no one else makes me feel like this, no one deserves to be worshipped and served like you, Sir, I want to make you feel good-... Until even the clear-minded state of domspace begins to crumble and Andy feels nothing but pleasure, and confidence, and power, and he cums to the sound of Tom praising him and begging, once, twice, three times, until his head is clear again and everything, even the need to chase his own pleasure, is gone, and he just feels perfect.

"Stop," he orders Tom, who's still babbling more and more incoherently, endless praise and worship, and Andy finds that he worships Tom right back. "I want you to get my cock as deep inside you as you can, and stay still. I'm going to play with your dick for a while, and when I tell you to, you can come. You did well today, baby."

Tom nods, suddenly struggling to use his words. "T-thank you, Sir," he says, already frozen in place, thighs clenching with the effort not to move and also shaking with all the effort he did before.

Andy coos. "Poor baby. You were so good to me today. Let me take care of you."

"You always- always do, Sir," Tom replies, and Andy smiles.

He gives Tom a long, slow handjob, making sure Tom stays still through it, enjoying the way his thighs shake on top of Andy's, the pressure of Tom sitting tight on his cock, the way his arms also shake with effort where they rest around Andy's neck; Tom's pretty, exposed throat all marked up around his collar, his breathless little whines as Andy makes sure to do it just the way he likes it, makes his cock turn red with need; watches Tom bite his lip, because when he has to keep still he becomes so quiet and needy, even as the little whines go through his lips… Until Andy finally says, "come for me, baby," and Tom screams through an orgasm that lasts almost a minute, hanging on to Andy as tightly as he can to keep himself anchored through the pleasure.

And then Andy holds him, and Tom holds him back, and they hold each other.

----

A while later, they've cleaned up Tom's cum so it doesn't get all sticky on Andy's chest, and Andy's finally taken off those damn briefs - they're great for sex, but get pretty tight when you wear them for a long time - and Andy holds Tom against his chest. He's humming, contently, and if anyone had told him at the beginning of the day that he'd be comfortable enough to have someone close to him while he's fully naked, he'd - well, probably assume they meant Tom, but still be skeptical.

"How do you feel?" Tom asks after a little while, finally opening up his eyes and saying hello to the world.

"That's supposed to be my line," Andy laughs.

"I feel great. Perfect. Next time, I wanna do it for longer. A week? Let's try a week. Or two weeks…?"

Andy laughs. "Let's not make too big of a leap yet."

"Fine. A week sounds good. Great. And now that we've established that denial is totally bomb for me, how are you feeling?"

"Honestly? I'm feeling great, too," Andy admits, playing with a little stray of Tom's hair, swirling it around his finger, "I think I needed that, a little bit. Who'd have thought that having you ride me and praise my cock cures dysphoria."

"Every trans top on every forum I've ever visited."

"Let me have my moment of realization," Andy mumbles, faux-annoyed. Tom just laughs, holding him closer.

"I'm just glad I could help," he says.

"Please tell me you didn't ride my cock just to help."

"Well, no, in case you hadn't noticed, I was horny as fuck. I just tried to, you know. Use that to give you a little push. Since you wanted to. Y'know. Also, it was all true. So..."

"Thanks, love," Andy says, earnestly. "I love you."

"I love you more."

They bicker about it, and Andy's smiling the rest of the day.

[tayerroos]

Patchwork Tales: Book 1

A “9" roleplay compendium.  Read on AO3 Chapter: 6 [First] [Back] [You Are Here] [Next] Warnings for this chapter: Dysphoria

Mesos smiled as she allowed her optics to close and bury her head into his chest. She felt so safe and warm in his embrace.

[peniabeset]

Still your baby boy

Bucky Barnes x trans reader.

(Warnings- mild gender dysphoria, fear of rejection and implied sex.)

You and Bucky have been in a relationship for a little over six months and he still doesn't know that you're transgender. He respects you when you say you're not ready to have sex with him, he's fine with that, not even questioning it. 

That is until Natasha slips up and almost outs you.

The bed frame creaks as the weight of a body shifts behind you. Arms wrap around your middle, one is warm flesh, the other lukewarm metal that hums softly against your ribs. 

There's soft light filtering through the tinted windows of the Avengers tower, giving the room an almost glowing feeling. Your chest swells with warmth when he pulls you closer to his chest, skin and more metal pressing into your back.

You role over to look at the person who's arms they belonged to, metal plates shifted against your skin- leaving goosebumps in its wake as they lifted their arm up so you could shift easier to face them. His eyes are closed, his breathing coming slow and steady. His shoulder length brown hair is fanned across half of your pillow that his head is buried in. 

If there was anyone else that saw him like this they would think that he was fast asleep. You knew better though as you reached a hand up to rest against his cheek, rubbing your thumb against his stubble. His lip twitched upwards, pulling you closer into him. "'Morning, sunshine," He mumbles. His voice was always gravelly in the morning. 

It was 7:30. You knew because the windows were on a timer so that they would no longer be tinted. The new light that was slowly being let in lit up his face, letting you admire all of the little flaws in his face. You could see every little scar, freckle- today there were two small pimples on the left side of his face. He opened his eyes to look at you, blinking a few times to adjust to the light.

"You're so pretty," You say to him, making him roll his eyes. He leans forward to kiss you on your nose.

"And so are you, baby boy," He replies when he pulls away, plopping his head back down on the pillow, mused hair fanning out, some of the strands falling onto his face. You moved the strands out of his eyes, tucking them behind his ear. "I need a haircut," He huffed when the strands fell back into his face. 

You shake your head, biting your lip, trying not to smile. "I like it like this though," You state while running your fingers through his bed head.

"You just want to be able to braid my hair and put it up into," He removes his metal hand from under the blanket to make quotation marks, ""Man buns.""

"Not true." A smile creeps onto his face as he sits up, blanket slipping off and pooling on you and his lap. He's wearing boxer shorts, same as you. His are light blue and yours are grey. 

Bucky stretches his arms over his head, you can hear the gears and plates shifting over his yawn. When he looks back down at you he notices that your nose is crinkled. "What?" 

"I can smell your breath all the way down here." You didn't actually smell anything, but you still pretended to gag as he swooped down to catch your lips with his- effectively shutting you up. It was nothing more than lingering peck on the lips. His hand had slips back under the blanket to rest on your lower stomach, sending chills up your back. "Alright, go make yourself some coffee or something," Say as you role back over and stealing the rest of the blanket. You close your eyes just as you feel the bed shift and he's nuzzling his nose against your neck.

"Aren't you coming down with me?" There was something more in what he was asking. It didn't sound like he was upset and he definitely didn't wake up from any sort of nightmare or episode. You shake your head no and he hums in response.

He's okay. He's good for right now.

"Someone's in the kitchen already," He lets you know as he stands to get clothes on. Other people made him nervous most of the time.

You crack an eye open to watch his backside as he leaves. He's wearing baggy sweats and a white tank top. He grabs one of the key cards that are on a hardwood desk that's by the front door before opening it, he pauses, "Stop ogling my ass." You can't help the smirk that spreads across your face, snuggling back into the bed as the door shuts.

Bucky made his way down the hall, sure steps carrying him to the kitchen where Natasha sat perched on one of the bar stools at the island counter. She was tapping away at her phone while sipping something steaming in a white mug that said 'Yeet' in cursive on the side; most likely one of Parker's mugs that had sayings on them that made little to no sense.

"Morning," She said when she finished swallowing her mouth full of liquid. He can smell that it's coffee- it has a slight milky sweetness to it. French vanilla maybe?

"Morning," He replies as he moves around her to grab a cup of his own from the cupboard. He grabs the first mug that his hand makes contact with and takes it out. It's pink and white with a hello kitty face on the side; Bucky doesn't care. He's been here long enough to accept the constant nonsense that happens here. 

Bucky pours the black steaming liquid into the cup, only putting a spoonful of sugar in and nothing else before he's leaning his back against the sink. He looks up from his cup just as he's about to take a sip, only to make direct eye contact with Natasha.

"That's Wade's cup," She states. Bucky shrugs, taking a gulp anyway, not even wincing when it burns his mouth and the back of his throat. 

"He hasn't been here in two weeks. He's too busy bothering Peter on his patrols. I doubt he's going to notice." Natasha tilts her mug back so she can get the last of her coffee, almost like she's doing a shot, Bucky notes. She sets it down on the marble countertop with a soft clink.

"See," She starts, "That's what Tony said that one time a few months back. Somehow Wilson had found out and showed up while he was sleeping and woke him up saying, 'You drank out of my mug which has had my mouth on it. So technically that means we've kissed'." 

"I remember that," Bucky replied. "Tony barely slept for almost three weeks," He chuckles, looking down at the mug, swirling the contents briefly and then taking another drink. 

"By Wade's standards, now you and Tony have kissed him," She laughs. Bucky just rolls his eyes, finishing off his coffee, taking her cup away from her and setting both glasses in the sink to be washed later.

"I've literally shared my cup with ten different guys when I was in the military without washing it for days," He replies, snorting when Natasha makes a disgusted face. Her face shifts then, putting her phone down on the counter.

"Speaking of kissing people. How are you and (y/n) doing?" She gestures to his hair, "I noticed you've got quite the bed head," She states. Bucky pulls up a stool so he could sit across from her.

"Everything's really good," He leans forward so he can rest his elbows on the table, intertwining his fingers. "Why?" She shrugs, copying his movements.

"I don't know. No offense, but you've always seemed like a ladies man." Bucky's eyebrow twitched up in annoyance at her comment. "Oh come on, Bucky you know what I mean. Steve told me that he's never once seen you go after a guy." Bucky let out a lighthearted laugh before responding.

"Yeah, well things were a lot different in my day. Someone catches you with a guy you're royally fucked."

"Have you ever been with one? Like physically?"

"I honestly don't remember," He shrugs. Natasha looks at him confused.

"Not even with (y/n)..?" Bucky furrows his brows and shakes his head hesitantly. "Seriously? Bucky Barnes, the guy who got tail almost every night back in the day hasn't banged his boyfriend yet?" Bucky frowns at her response.

"No? Last time I checked there wasn't a specific timeframe that you're supposed fuck your significant other," He snaps defensively. He could feel his fight or slight response kicking in, and it was screaming at him to do the former.

Natasha brought her hand up, "Bucky I didn't mean it that way. You need to calm down. It was just a joke," She said in a soothing voice. "But seriously. I've seen the way you look at each other. He's clearly head over heels for you and half the time you look like you're about to pounce on the guy."

Bucky didn't think it was that obvious. At least he tried for it not to be. 

"He doesn't want to," Bucky admits quietly after a moment, shifting his gaze down to his hands. Something shifts in her face, almost like she's taking pity on him.

"Do you want to?" She asks after a moment. Bucky shrugs, shrinking into himself more. "Have you talked to him about it?" 

"Briefly. He said he's okay and that I don't need to give him anything in return and I’m okay with that-”

"So he's done stuff to you," She interjects. Bucky's nose twitches with annoyance from her cutting him off. "But doesn't let you do stuff to him-" She does that thing with her face again when she realizes what's going on. "Oh. Oh. You don't know, do you?" 

"I don't know what?" He asks her, completely and utterly confused. She's getting up now from the counter simultaneously grabbing her phone and stuffing it into the pocket of her sweats.

"This something you should be discussing with him." Bucky gets up from his seat, stool screeching against the floor, making Natasha cringe.

"You didn't seem to have a problem talking about my sex life thirty seconds ago, why does it matter now? What don't I-" Bucky could sense two figures approaching them coming from the south hall. His automatic response being to shut his mouth with enough force for it to make an audible noise just as Sam and Clint walked into the room.

"What's all the noise this early in the damn mornin'?" Clint asks looking accusingly at them. "I'm deaf and I can still hear you two bastards squawking."

"Heard something about Bucky's sex life," Sam whispered into Clint's ear. Clint tapped to his ear as Sam pulls away.

"Too early for hearing aids, my dude," Clint laughs. 

"Shit, sorry, I'll tell you later," Sam replies.

Bucky takes that as his cue to go back to your room. He slips away almost unnoticed by the others, Nat only sending him a quick glance.

You're fully awake when Bucky finally comes back. He slides the keycard into the lock, light turning green and slips in. You look up from your phone as he's closing the door behind himself.

"'Morning, Sergeant. Barnes," You salute. He smiles at what you'd said, setting the card back where you two kept them on the table. He's walking towards the bed- something is wrong. You can tell by the way he's walking. He's always carried himself differently when he was upset. "What's wrong?" You ask, sitting up straighter and putting your phone down on the bed.

He doesn't respond at first, just climbing into bed and smashing his face into the pillow on his side of the bed. When he finally does respond it's muffled by the stuffing. 

"Bucky I can't understand you with your face smashed in that pillow." You move over so you're closer to him and set your hand on his bare shoulder. "You can talk to me, baby." 

He rolls over onto his side so he can look at you. He takes in your appearance- how your hair is sticking up in all sorts of directions, lightly tanned skin that has freckles here and there. "Natasha and I were talking in the kitchen."

"Okay. What were you two talking about?" You grow even more concerned when he swallows thickly before he responds.

"You- well, actually us." He sits up fully as soon as he hears your breath hitch. "It wasn't anything bad- at least I don't think so," He blurts out. "I went into the kitchen and she was drinking coffee, and then I got coffee, and then she made a comment about I had bad bed head, and then started asking about why we haven't had sex yet? Then she didn't realize that I didn't know something and told me to talk to you about it-" You cut him off by slapping your hand over his mouth.

"You're mouth vomiting again, dear," You smile, soothing your hand through his hair. Bucky mumbles out an apology, leaning into your hand.

You knew this conversation would have come up at some point. You didn't even know how to approach the subject, so maybe Natasha being nosy was a blessing? Maybe. You inhaled deeply, taking Bucky's hand into your own. "I'm not really sure how to explain this," You admit nervously. He just smiles at you and kisses the palm of your hand.

"Just do your best. I may be old, but I catch on quick." That earned a laugh from you, helping ease your current anxiety. 

"I'm... Trans," You say slowly. The words sounded strange, almost wrong coming out of your mouth. You didn't like thinking about it, let alone saying it. His face went completely blank for a split second, and then you swear you saw a dozen different emotions cross his face, the last being confusion. 

"Oh." Your heart sank at his response. "Oh,"  He repeats, sitting up all the way, your hand falling to rest on his thigh. Bucky grabs your face with both of his hands and smashes his mouth against yours, speaking in between kisses. "I- love- you-" He pulls you onto his lap, making you yelp, "So fucking much," He finishes. "(y/n), why didn't you tell me?" 

"I didn't want you to think differently off me," You say as you bring your hands up to rest on the nape of his neck as his hands fall to your hips. He leans into get another kiss, smiling when he pulls away.

"I could never," He starts. "This is why you never let me touch you," He realizes. You laugh, rubbing your thumbs against his jawline. 

"Yes, Bucky." He looks down you chest then, you can tell that he wants to ask questions. He'd never asked about the thin light scars on your chest that were only really visible in certain light or cooler temperatures that made them turn a light purple. Probably due to the fact that he didn't like talking about his own scars that were on his chest where metal met skin. "You can ask. It's okay." He swallows, nodding. 

You reach down to take his metal hand into your own and placing it against your chest the tips of his pointer and middle finger resting directly over one of the scars, the cool humming from his arm giving you goosebumps. "Double mastectomy?" He asks as he bring his other arm up to run over the other white line. 

"Mhm." He runs his hands up and down your sides a few times before bring them up to feel your neck and face, turning your head slightly this way and that. "What are you doing," You giggle when he scratches behind your left ear.

"I'm just amazed on how far we've come from how it used to be. Here I am sitting in bed with the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on in my lap. If this was seventy years ago-"

"It's not like that anymore. We're safe," You remind him. He's always so concerned, always asking to make sure you're okay. God, as if you didn't love him enough already. 

"I know- I know. I just- holy shit I love you." You kiss him deeply, threading your fingers into his hair.

"I love you too."

[2dtacokit-blog]

Me and fucking mirrors. I stare a lot in them and what i see usually makes very little sense. I dunno if its dissociation or dysphoria but it’s like i can see what is there and then... it shifts. I can hardly focus on any element of my appearance without trying to convince myself something else is there. I forget what i look like a lot, that is dissociation, but since dysphoria has been kicking my ass it has gotten worse. That is, unless I dress or work to transform myself into something my brain is prepared to take in/translate? If I stand in the mirror naked or in my pyjamas, without binding or making an effort to do my usual masc things, my eyes feel like they go weird. Kinda like a lens that is out of focus. We can see what is there but it doesnt compute with my brain. No amount of changing pose, hiding body parts, or whatever helps, it’s like my brain wipes what the mirror shows from my memory. So i just... stare at the mirror for ages. Zoning out over and over until i end up usually close to angry tears or wanting to hide.

Before I started trying to present masc, I would have the same issue but I didnt question my gender, just... hated the parts of my body that marked my gender. I would do my best to amplify those parts, look as femme as possible but I had the same issue... brain fuzz, discomfort, some kinda irritating thing that was going “well none of this is right”. So i assumed it was weight. Weight, scarring, stretchmarks, age, evidence of pregnancy. I grew obsessed with my weight and would switch between starving myself, binging when i felt i was gonna pass out, working out and denying myself any food after. At times i had to have encouragement to finish eating because inside a voice was screaming that I was gonna get fat again. I have barely spoken about this as it is ongoing and i am sick of having problems tbh. As I lost weight, i still had this “it’s not right” but it wasnt that i was fat. Staring at the mirror again like WTF, why is this body that is... not fat, not big at all really, quite small to be honest still making me distressed?!. I was the smallest I had been since my early teens and I was still unable to see my body? despite seeing it.

Is it the shape of the belly then? loathe it, so lets try and get it as flat as possible. As I got close to that milestone I loved how it felt when i closed my eyes but... Looking in the mirror again it was still wrong. Gender started coming in here, belly fat and the stretchmarks on my stomach since my pregancy I couldnt dissociate from my born gender, or the trauma associated. If i cover my body up in a tshirt then i can deal with it just about, until i look in the mirror and its like I have a ramp going from my neck just to nowhere, and my tshirts just hang straight off.The shape was wrong, and I could never get it right. I tried wearing tight fitted clothes for ages but that niggling, itchy, nettle stinging voice was saying it was still hideous and we hated it. If i saw this exact body on paper (why i draw it) I dont hate it or feel repulsed at all. If i see this body on another person i am not repulsed either. It is just on myself. On myself, in photos and in the mirror. So I tried sports bras, and my body had a sillohette of an attractive woman, the figure i thought i wanted all my life and yet it is still not fucking right is it?!

The presence of my breasts made me feel fat, even if they were hoisted high, presented neatly in a balcony bra or squished with a sports bra. I felt fat, and somehow that made me feel more female. Which for a long time i hadnt realised was kinda the problem. I associate weight in chest, hips, ass, thighs and tummy with femininity, all things i dont mind in anyone else but loathe in myself bcz my body should not be that. My body is curvy. Even as i lost a tonne of weight and work out 4 times a weak focussing almost entirely on weight training and heavy lifting, it is still curvy and that makes me feel very female. Which makes me feel very sad.

But it all gets confusing when i am standing there in the mirror, in a binder and masc clothes, face also done to look a lil more masc and what i feel then is sadness and rage. Mainly because i look like a nothing? I dont look like a guy, I do not look like a girl in that state so i look nothing. And that creates more distress. I try hard to dress to exaggerate my masc parts of my body (shoulders and back, legs), but my torso fucks it all up. That and my face because in all my trawling through the internet i havent found a guy that looks like me, mainly because i look like a hecking girl. But then again I dont look like a girl. I know this because I try from time to time to present as a girl in private because the frustration of looking like a nothing is too much and i feel i should be able to just, wear a bra and be okay again.

Bullshit. I stand in a bra in the mirror, wearing my girliest underwear and i want to vomit because i cant see my body again, even though i am staring intensely at it in the mirror. I dont look like any girl i know when i look in the mirror and i can feel my eyes trying to adjust parts to masc appearance. I look like a miserable, sad weird looking guyish thing trying to be a girl - which could be validating for my dysphoria in the sense it kinda goes HERE IS THE THING, but its agony, because i know when i take that girly stuff off and put the binder and masc stuff on, I see a stupid girl trying to be a guy. By this point i am fighting SI urges because i cannot think straight. I simultaneously look too big because of the presence of my fatty femme parts, and look too small because despite all my hard work building muscle is hard. I am somehow seeing myself in that mirror as a fat, gross girl and a skinny, imasculine guy.

I take tonnes of pictures because i try to get a glimpse of the person I saw in a shop window reflection that made me feel like i was rushing. I spend ages trying to pose to feel more masculine, but get the balance right because i cant go full guy, because nothing says “you are just a girl trying to be a guy” than being a girly bodied and faced person trying their hardest to look like a guy. That and I know those photos i cannot show anyone i really know except a few close friends. Like i can feel myself trying to go all the way guyish and then pulling back a bit out of fear and self hatred. My best days though are when I feel like i pass great and people are receptive of it, but those times are fleeting, because every night without fail the battle with the mirror continues and i am lying in bed, stoned out of my mind, ploughing through all my photos and pulling them apart.

Comparing them to actual guys and going “lol you are a complete joke, look at yourself, can you actually comprehend how stupid you look in all of these? quit this you tool.”. Then comparing them to girls and going “i dont look like them either but i also do? I dont want to look like them, they are beautiful but i dont want to look like them.”. Final round in my persecution, i return to the pictures of men who share similar qualities to me, and my drawings, and before i pass out go “you will never look like this, you are a fool for thinking it. Even if you did transition you would never look like this. This is not possible for you. It never will be. You dont deserve those pronouns, and you dont deserve the other ones. You do not exist, you cannot exist, you are so unbelievably pathetic, continually transferring onto fictional characters, dreaming you could look like them. It’s hysterical almost that you try this hard when you know it is impossible, That you are who you are, and who you are does not exist in any sodding form, because the one you want you cannot have, and the one you exist in is so wrong you can never fully see it anyway.”.

Just had to get that out of my system. Feels are high today, and struggling a bit. The double whammy of DID and gender dysphoria is making it very difficult to stay... in this realm of reality? bcz my brain keeps dissociating from it and doing literally everything in its power to detatch myself from my body and the reality where I am this weird freak thing. Like high school and primary school, and like almost all my trauma. Sorry for this BS rant.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2020 - 24 (ink)

Summary: Everyone loves a fan meet and greet, right? Well, Ray doesn’t, especially when she winds up on staff at her own event. What’s an idol supposed to do when her fans don’t show up? Apparently, the answer is manning the line so nobody acts up for her senpai. At least she’s useful that way.

(Sunburst Idol Unit)

---

“Hey, thanks for stopping by today!”

“You're going to be the next head of the Zodiac for sure, Lena-chan!”

Lena was all smiles as she finished shaking her fan's hand. “Here's hoping anyway. Keep your eyes out for me!”

Somehow, she made it look so easy.

Ray shook her head as she glanced at the line in front of her. All of them were wearing some form of red, and plenty were sporting bandannas. It was easy to see who they were here for, and just why they were waiting so long.

Thus... there she was helping out.

“Hey, next person c'mon up.”

Some kid not much older than her breezed past and started chatting with Lena about something related to school. Ray didn't really parse much of it as she kept her eye on the line. They were pretty full, so the time limit was strict today. While she wasn't quite Seiza Academy level bouncer, she could get the job done just fine.

As long as... you ignored she was technically part of this fan meet event as an idol and not staff.

Her own line was... empty. It had been since she had gotten there. Nobody had come to see her to get an autograph or to shake her hand. That last one she didn't mind all that much, but it was still … well, it sucked. There was no other way to put it besides the fact it fucking sucked and she hated standing there. But running away to the bathroom wasn't an option, and Lena needed the help. So she just pushed it down.

Later, when she got home... that wasn't going to be fun. Hooray, rejection sensitive dysphoria rearing its ugly head.

“Shoot, my pen's out of ink.”

Lena's voice carried over the din of the waiting crowd. Ray was already on it, reaching into her pocket in order to toss a new one. It was one of the red ones, not the pink one she kept in her left pocket. That one was hers.

“Heads up, senpai!”

Even though she had been a soccer player, her fellow idol caught it. “Thanks, Raychi!”

A few in the crowd gave her approving looks as she stepped back into her spot at the side of the line. Of course, it didn't exactly make them jump over to meet her, so that didn't really mean much. Luckily, Ray was good at projecting a neutral face as everything crumbled to pieces inside of her. Nobody was the wiser as she assumed the position.

Would it have killed them to come see her after, though? She wasn't asking for much...

It didn't matter. The line kept going, and fans kept wanting to meet their idol. Most of them were more than happy to abide by the rules. The few that didn't... well, a glare from her put them in their place just fine. No need to chuck people on their ass when a giant lesbian is watching the line.

If this idol thing didn't work out, she clearly had a future in crowd management. No doubt by the time she was fully grown she would even tower over the crowds back home. What that would make for her in Japan, she wasn't sure.

But she was happy to think about it. The alternative was just depressing.

“So uh... whose that other table supposed to be for? Is someone else from Seiza coming later?”

One of the fans with a bandanna around their neck was whispering to someone in a bright red t-shirt. They were both pointing over at her table, where a plain sign said that the line began a few feet behind it. Nobody was exactly running up to it, all things considered, so no doubt it probably looked weird.

T-shirt fan was more in the know as Ray tried to avoid the conversation by staring blankly ahead. “No... that's the line for Ray Jones. Guess nobody showed up.”

“Wait, is that why she's here? I thought it was just because Lena-chan knew she could keep people in line.” They had the nerve to glance her way, then look back just as quickly. Smart. “She's handling it pretty well, I'd be crushed if that was me.”

Bandanna nodded to this sentiment. “Same. Guess she's used to it.”

No, she was just good at faking it. Ray resisted the urge to grit her teeth as she motioned the next in line along. It probably made her look even scarier to those who would consider misbehaving, but maybe that was for the best. If she couldn't be an idol, at least she was a deterrent.

Once the clock struck 2, Lena got up. “Hey, everyone, I need to take a fifteen minute break so I can stretch my wrist and eat something! I'll be right back, so don't go anywhere!”

A large amount of fans responded with hopes she had a good snack break, to which they got a wave in return. Given the fact her own stomach was rumbling, Ray took this as a sign that maybe she should break too. She glanced at the line before shrugging her shoulders.

“Yeah, same...”

Nobody heard her as she headed off to where the vending machines were. She caught Lena in front of one, the idol happily feeding change into the slot so she could get her snack. Right then, she was in her own world as Ray stalked the machine that had Monster in it.

Was it healthy, no, but fuck it. With the day she was having she didn't feel like being healthy.

“Here, to thank you for helping me out.” Lena was nudging something into her side – looked like a cream cake. Ray was never one to turn down free food, so she accepted it as they sat down to eat their snacks. Much like her, her senpai wasn't being very healthy either – the sugar would've killed somebody, but she needed the calories.

Ray just needed something to do with her hands so she didn't punch a wall.

“Thanks.” She popped the top on her Monster and took a long sip. “Looks like you've got a full house going on out there. That'll make you look good to Seiza for the Zodiac ranking, right?”

Lena nodded as she drank from her can of soda. “Yeah, I think I should be heading up to the final three this week if I keep it up.”

“Kick her ass.”

She didn't know the evil Nana, of course, but if Lena hated her then she had to be bad. The idol didn't hate anyone, she was like a freaking puppy. Anyone who failed the love you test was pure evil, at least by her account. Then again, she wasn't exactly someone to go to for better judgment.

Much to her surprise, Lena's expression turned sheepish as she picked at her own cream bun. “Listen uh... I'm sorry that you had to stay behind. I know you have that thing with-”

Ray shook her head as she started to eat her own snack. “RSD isn't your problem, senpai. Nobody showed up for me, that's just how it is.”

“Yeah but at least you could've gone home or something. You're stuck here with me.” Lena was frowning now. “I appreciate and all, don't get me wrong... but I'm worried you're doing this to hurt yourself.”

As she spoke, she was flexing her ink-covered hands. They were both left handed, so ink smearing when they wrote was part of the job description. The side of her hand was absolutely scarlet – it was a miracle she wasn't getting it on her fans. Honestly, it kind of looked like a murder scene...

“Raychi?”

Ah. She was doing it again, wasn't she? Picking up on tiny details to ignore the thing that was actually bothering her.

Ray finally allowed herself to frown as she sipped at her energy drink that really didn't do much in the energy department. “Self harm isn't really in my pathology description, senpai.”

“Maybe not that, but... you know. You're really hard on yourself, I don't want you to do this as a punishment or anything.” Lena sighed as she finished her bun off and licked her fingers. “Though your fans are dumb if they don't come. Just plain dumb.”

That got her snickering into her drink. “Thanks, senpai.”

Their time was growing close to an end – she swore she could hear the muttering on the other side of the wall. So, Ray finished up her energy drink and tossed the can. Lena was right behind her, also disposing of her trash. After a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up, both were walking back into the main hall.

“Hey, everyone, I'm back!”

Lena had shifted back into idol mode as she took her table once more. Ray returned to her position by a nearby column, arms folded across her chest as she leaned back. They still had plenty of fans to get through if they wanted to finish on time. No wonder the other staff were really harping on that time limit.

Speaking of... one was coming her way.

“What's up, need something?” She shifted positions, returning to her full height. To the woman's credit, she didn't cringe as much as others did. Definitely looked a little unnerved by the giant foreigner, but she covered it well.

Maybe they wanted her to move or work the merch or something...

“Oh, uh... we need you at your line.” She gestured towards a small line practically dwarfed by the bandanna-wearing army. “Your fans are waiting.”

Ray felt her heart pound in her ears as she managed a nod. Now, it was the staff leading her to her table, where the first person was already waiting for her. It was a girl, maybe a few years older than her, still wearing her school uniform. She had a bright pink bow in her hair that matched her image color perfectly, and in her arms was a rolled up poster.

Shit, she brought merch with her.

“Oh, uh... sorry it took me so long to get over.” She nodded her head. “Uh... wow. Hi?”

The girl smiled at her. “Am I the first?”

“Yeah... you are. Forgive me that I suck at this.” Ray rubbed the back of her head. “You uh, want me to sign that for you?”

The poster was unrolled – it was from her first single. Just seeing it on the table made her heart pound as she found a spot to sign her name in the neon pink pen she had brought with her. For once, the ink didn't smudge as she worked, sighing in relief once it was dry. She hadn't messed it up.

“Man, I was worried I was going to smear everything.” She handed it back. “Thanks for supporting me...”

Her school-girl fan giggled. “It's Nami.”

“Thanks, Nami. Way to restore my faith in humanity.”

They shook hands briefly, and then her fangirl moved on. However, Ray wasn't done just yet. A small crowd was starting to trickle in, some of them dressed as though they had just come from a mosh pit. All of them had something pink on – buttons, shirts, a few ribbons on people with hair long enough to hold it. They looked excited to be there as they stepped into line, talking animatedly. It wasn't quite the size of Lena's line... but it was hers.

She had fans.

The staff who had walked her to the table was back. “They printed the wrong time on the poster. Seiza corrected it, but nobody told Sunburst.”

Well... shit.

Despite that, Ray found herself snickering as she got her pink pen ready for more. “Well, then I better get started.”

Her next statement came loud enough for her line to hear. “Alright, y'all, you coming or what? Get your shit ready because I'm probably gonna babble a lot!”

She got cheers in response, and a few chuckles. While some of the red line looked disturbed, her pink party was down to clown. Ray definitely caught Lena smiling and giving her a thumbs up as she prepared for the next person in line, pen at the ready.

No doubt by the end of this, the side of her hand was going to be absolutely fluorescent pink. Well, at least a few people would get a hand print with their signature. That had to be worth something, right?

Hell if she knew the merch game, she was an idol. A very busy idol who now had to work her way through a fan event. Good thing she had a few extra pens in her jacket, because she got the feeling she was going to need them.