#i front in a trans masc body

[nyahkmenrah]

Ahkemenrah hates transphobes. Source? Me I am Ahkemnrah and I hate transphobes.

[bugboi01]

Not again

yandere batfam x trans masc reader

Inspired by @nikovraskol crack baby! (You should totally go read that too)

Summary: After being killed in a robbery gone wrong, you wake up in your younger self's body.

You shot awake, grasping at your chest as the echoes of pain tingled under your skin like electric shocks. You looked around in confusion. Weren't you just at the store? Scratch that. When was the last time your room was pink? Flashes of memories flitted across your scattered mind. You... you were at the store. You remember there being a robbery and a gun being involved. Was it the robber or the cashier who pulled the gun? Did you pass out or something?

You slid out of bed, head pounding as you stumble your way through getting dressed. Everything felt off. A book missing from your desk, clothes you thought you donated sitting neatly in your dresser, and the absence of any personality decorating your walls. You didn't put it together until you saw yourself in the cracked full-length mirror attached to your door. Correction: You saw yourself from two years ago in the mirror.

"What the fuck." There were no other words to describe the situation you had found yourself in. The fragmented memories suddenly make more sense, disjointed parts of a puzzle coming together. You died. Or rather, you were going to die? A soft sigh escaped your lips as you stared at your reflection, disphoria rising in the back of your throat like bile. You had forgotten what you looked like with long hair. Everything about your appearance only made the cacophony of emotions settling inside you at your revelation grow ever stronger and more violent.

A choked sob fell from your mouth despite your best attempts to keep quiet. You suddenly couldn't stand to see yourself, eyes zeroing in on the pair of scissors on your desk. You didn't register that you had picked up the scissors until the first lock of hair drifted to the ground with a deafening snip. Every cut made the weight in your shoulders just a bit lighter until you didn't have any hair below your ears. You looked... better. The style was choppy and haphazard, but it made you feel a bit better about your appearance.

You looked down at the mess of hair, leaving your room to grab a broom to clean it. While you walked, you thought about what to do next. This was a second chance, you supposed. A chance to live your life in a way you had been too scared to before. You were seventeen at the moment, eighteen in a little less than half a year. That was still quite a bit away for your plans. Lost in thought as you were, you failed to notice the person in front of you until you collided into a large body.

"Watch where you're..." A familiar voice snapped before trailing off. Looking up, you spotted Jason's bright blue-green eyes studying you intensely.

"Sorry," you replied flatly, feeling far too drained to care all that much.

"What happened to your hair?"

"Cut it."

"I can see that, princess. Why'd you give yourself a haircut?"

"Don't call me princess."

Jason seemed taken aback by the harshness in your voice. He frowned, eyes studying you with more intensity than before. It felt like thousands of ants crawling along your skin, burrowing inside until they reached your heart and began chewing away at the organ. You turned your head away, unable to stand the feeling any longer.

"Do you know where the broom is?" You asked, trying to change the conversation.

"What?"

"The broom. Actually never mind. I'll just ask Alfred." With those parting words, you brushed past Jason despite him calling out to you. You had better things to deal with than fighting with your brother. You thought back to the first time you met Jason. He was a scrawny little thing the same size as you despite being two years older. That didn't last long once he got a proper three meals of Alfred's cooking per day. He was a sweet kid who didn't mind hanging out with you. He seemed in need of you just as much as you needed him. It made you wonder what happened after he died and came back. He was distant with you but tried to hold his temper when you were around. Well, now you had something in common besides having the Batman for a father. Perhaps that would make the sweet boy who used to look at you with all the love he could hold in his small, fragile body come back.

You didn't bump into anyone else on your way to find the broom, thank the stars. It took longer than you would have liked, though. Seriously, how many closets does one house need? Surely, there weren't that many servants around at a time before Alfred. Satisfied, you make the trek back to your room. Maybe you should ask about moving rooms to one closer to the first floor? Well, that was a conversation for another day. You shut the closet door, only to come face to face with Alfred. Ah, hell.

"Oh, um..." You trailed off, unsure how to talk to the older man. Sure, he was kind enough when you first arrived, but it had been years since you last remembered truly interacting with him besides the occasional small talk or him handing you your lunch for the day. His eyes studied your new hair and baggy shirt carefully before he rested a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Shall I inform the others of this development, young Master?" Alfred asked, plucking the broom from your fingers despite your protests. "And it would please me greatly if you allowed me to touch up your hair."

You could only nod in response to the butler's question and barely concealed demand. Was this why everyone else liked Alfred so much? His ability to know what to say and do to make your longing for affection and acceptance ease away? You found yourself being led to a bathroom where Alfred had you sit on a chair while he made your impromptu haircut less sloppy and more deliberate looking. You looked in the mirror while he worked. You liked what you saw.

[dreamertf]

Role Reverse

/muscle drain, muscle growth, straight to gay, dom to sub, sub to dom, masculinization

/Was on metabods and was inspired by this story

Jack and his roommate Cas weren't on great terms. Jack had moved in a few months ago, finding Cas through a listing on craigslist-- only the listing didnt mention that Cas was a complete bigot. Since the first day of moving in, Jack had been tormented by the tall jock. Cas egging him on for being trans and gay. The daily berating was getting annoying, and Jack wanted to move out but the lease wouldnt be over for a few more months.

As he was doomscrolling tiktok he got an ad for some sort of new social media app called Facets that seemed targeted at gay people.

Facets; each lens creating a new reality

He stared at the app as it downloaded, going through the preview pictures. The way the screenshots were presented made it look like there was some built-in ai photomanipulation that changes your pictures based on your tags. It made sense. Everyone was insanely attractive on the preview photos, inhumanely so.

Creating his account he had to input his information, it felt like a dating app.

Jack Engoff

Height: 5'6"

Weight: 210

Body type: Chub

Position: Verse

Gender: Trans Masc

Scrolling through the app, it was just like scrolling through the previews. Everyone was insanely hot.

Jack decided to get back at Cas a little, have a little fun. He knew that the jock fell asleep in the living room last night after getting home drunk, so he had complete access to him.

Sneaking quietly he stood in front of the behomoth on the couch, his breathing deep and heavy as his pecs rose and fell rhythmically. His thick muscular legs spread, revealing his huge member.

Jack hated how hot he was, he looked like all the other guys on the app.

He took a picture as he thought about what tags to put.

#bottom #skinny #powerbottom #twink #short #sub #femboy #wanttobedominated #thirstybussy

As he pressed post, the loading screen glitched out. Suddenly, a picture of a cute twink appeared. Short 5'5" lean frame with a bubble butt. His waist is small, and his face brimming with feminine masculinity. His previously spread legs were closed as his small dainty hands covered his crotch, his huge ass pointing up- his face down in the couch. He was practically swimming in his clothes, even though they had shrunk to accommodate his new body.

Jack loved seeing his tormenter brought down a few pegs, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't turned on.

---

He looked up in shock as the small twink in the photo manifested in front of him. His breathing wasn't heavy anymore, slight movement to his narrow shoulders as he slept peacefully.

Suddenly he heard slight muttering and moans come from cas.

"Oh Jackie.... im so tight.. please you're ripping me apart!" He moaned, his voice high pitched and sensual.

Jack was immediately turned on, he didnt know what to do.

If this app was able to do this, what could he do to himself?

He took a selfie as he formulated the perfect tags.

#powertop #dom #cisman #himbo #jock #bodybuilder #hugefeet #giant #hugeverywhere #model #abs #jawline #irresistible

He hit post as he ran to the bathroom to see his changes.

His patters became thuds as his feet grew out to size 15s.

He felt his bottom growth lengthen as it turned into a fully functioning penis, becoming thicker as his balls dropped-- becoming huge and juicy. His top surgery scars disappeared as he lost all his fat, his muscles defining themselves, becoming that of a god.

His broad shoulders pushed themselves out as his shirt completely disappeared, leaving his huge juicy tits in the cold air. His torso elongating as his abs popped into existence. He smiled as his adams apple dropped and became more prominent.

He flexed in the mirror, smiling as his face became extremely symmetrical and handsome. His curly hair grew out a tiny bit on top, giving him a lusty edge.

"Jackkkkkk is that you? Whats happening i feel so weak..."

He heard a voice come from behind him, standing in the doorway was Cas, dazed and confused.

Inside Cas was screaming, was he that hungover? Why was jack so much bigger than him.

"Hey baby" Jack said in his deep voice, as he spoke Cas immediately got hard-- his small two inch dick parely tenting his shorts.

Jack picked Cas up easily, kissing him as he brought the shorter man into the bedroom.

"I heard you muttering in your sleep, if you wanted me that bad why didnt you say?"

Cas blushed. It was undeniable how hot Jack was, but he wasn't gay! Cas leaned back in bed as the giant 6 foot 8 giant stood before him.

Seeing him in such a compromising position made jack's huge member immediately come to attention.

As he pulled down his sweats it flopped out, leaking warm goey thick pre as his giant foot long soda can wide dick ached for Cas.

Cas gasped, leaning forward as he felt an irresitable urge to worship Jack's body. Licking up the pre with his tongue as jack grabbed him by the hair.

"Good boy, keep licking and maybe ill fuck you."

[separatetheyolk]

could you do a poly!landoscar x male!reader of aftercare with doms!oscar and lando? i read the lewis one and it was so good

This Side Of Paradise Poly!Landoscar X M!Reader

featuring: Lando norris & Oscar Piastri

Landoscar aftercare

warnings: 18+, mentions of smut but nothing too explicit mainly just in passing

note: Just a small one to get me back into writing. Sorry this took a while, I had cold after cold then spontaneous moved house lol. Still working on Charles and Carlos aftercares but this ask came through and I just had to finish this one. I haven't proof read this very well past the point of making sure it all makes sense so there will probably be quite a few spelling mistakes that I've missed. As with all my M!Reader posts this can be read as a trans!reader too, trans masc too but there is he/him pronouns and shit like 'boyfriend' used to refer to reader.

word count: 1077

requests are open!

Your head was pulled back from a cock before you had a chance to realise your breathing was growing increasingly difficult. “Okay, okay baby hey-” You heard, sounding somewhat distant. Far off despite feeling the breath run behind your ear and down your neck. It was quite disorientating in all honestly. “Okay.. baby, I need you to breathe.” You whimpered quietly as you were flipped round from your front to your back. Rearranged so you were set onto the middle of the bed and your head resting in someone's lap as they worked to undo the blindfold. “Come on.. That's it deep breaths.”

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust but once they had, you were met with an extremely concerned Lando. “Hey gorgeous..” You heard as Lando brushed hair from your eyes, but his lips weren't moving. Leading you to believe it was Oscar that was doing the talking. “Bit too much or you, hmm?” He spoke, watching you lift your head to look to him. His gaze meeting your own.

“I can take it..” You insisted. Wincing from just how harsh your voice sounded, moving to sit up but a tanned hand on your chest prevented you from moving any further. You couldn't help but let a frustrated whine slip past your lips.

“Baby, you don't have to.. This isn't some game where you have to prove yourself.. You've done more than enough for us. Just lie back and relax. We’ll take care of the rest.” Lando insisted, giving you a stern look that held no room for retaliation. You decided it didn't suit him at all. 

“Just relax, hmm?” This time Oscar spoke, hand resting on your shoulder and directing you to a free spot on the bed beside the driver. You couldn't argue.. The bed did look pretty inviting. So, albeit reluctantly, you moved to the spot and allowed Oscar to pull the blankets over your body. Closing your eyes, you felt the weight on the mattress shift as both men stood. Followed by the sound of a dresser drawer opening, then the rustling of clothes. A few minutes later and the weight of one of them was back beside you. “C’mere, gorgeous..”

You opened your eyes to find Oscar back beside you. Now dressed in some clean boxers. You moved over to him, allowing him to guide you so you were set between his legs, arms wrapping around one of his thighs like it was a pillow or large teddy bear and set your head in the crook where said thigh joined his hip. “There we go.. comfy?” He asked. And all you could manage was a nod as eyes closed again.

You didn't notice Lando watching the two of you from the other side of the room until you heard the others footsteps as he made his way over. You heard the two men share a gentle kiss, hand running through your hair to show you some affection too. “I take it you're too tired for a bath, hmm?” Lando asked you, looking down to you as you nodded your head. Your eyes remaining closed. “Alright.. You just stay here. I'll be right back.”

And, like before, the other left your side. A sinking feeling began to set in with guilt accompiening it. “M’ sorry..” You whispered after a beat of silence.

“What for, baby?” Oscar asked, accent thick and a strong difference compared to Lando’s. “You’ve done nothing wrong..”

“Ending the session early.. I wanted to do more for you..” You whispered, feeling like you'd left the two neglected. All this moving from track to track, it made it hard for the three of you to find time in Oscar and Lando’s busy schedules. When Winter break came around it often felt like a whole new paradise. And you wanted to make up for lost time.

Oscar chuckled slightly, moving so you were no longer in between his legs and shuffled to join you lying down. “You were perfect.. In every way. It's a lot to take two at once. Not to mention you haven’t done it in a while. But you still took us both perfectly. Besides, we were at it for hours baby.”

“But I-”

“But nothing, pretty boy.. You were perfect. Done so good for us..”

You couldn’t help but turn your face into the palm that was running through your hair. You didn’t nod in agreement but you also didn’t shake your head. So Oscar took that as a very small win. A few moments later, you felt Lando’s presence enter the room again, confirmed as a hand ran up and down your arm, small kisses soon being pressed to the back of your neck. “Can you sit up for a minute, baby?” Lando mumbled, feeling you nod slowly.

With help from both men, you were moved to an upright position, looking down to see baby wipes and a damp cloth set on the bed. Embarrassment washed over you as the two of them began wiping you down, baby wipes to get rid of most of the grime, cloth following closely behind. They almost seemed to sense the embarrassment. How you wanted to curl up into yourself, feeling as hands ran over your skin, massaging muscles and kisses pressed wherever the two of them could reach. Trying to get you to relax. A bath or preferably a shower if you could stand would be a must in the morning, but right now this would do.

Once you were wiped down, Lando helped to get you into one of his shirts while Oscar stripped the bed and took the sheets downstairs and to the wash room. While down there, he decided to make a quick detour to grab the trio a bottle of water each. By the time he’d came back to the bedroom, Lando had threw away used condoms, had set on some clean bedding and gotten you settled into bed.

He handed Lando two bottles of water once he’d gotten under the covers. The British man uncapping yours and carefully handing it over. Oscar slipped into bed on your right, letting you get comfy again as you lent into Lando’s side. Oscar then leaning into yours. “You get some sleep, baby..” you heard from Lando, though your eyes already half shut and the hold on the bottle loosening. You felt as the bottle was removed from your hand, the bedside lamp turned off.

[luxiomahariel]

the recent wave of trans men/mascs going "well, i'll show those TERFs an actual man in the bathroom! then they'll see what they've voted for! we need to stand up for trans women!!!" in the UK concerns me. these folks seem to be so blinded by this...idea of privilege that they think they have that they don't seem to understand that when they do that in real life, saying "well, actually, i'm a biological woman!!! 😏" won't work. bigots don't function on logic. they seem to have fallen under the common misconception of "i'm gonna own the violent bigots with facts and logic!" so bad they don't even realise what kind of position they're landing themselves in.

no, dear white-knight-wannabe, the bigots won't stand there and scratch their heads in confusion when you make your grand reveal. do you (@ these people) realise how stupid this sounds now? they won't have an "omg, oh no!" moment in front of you in real time as you bask in the power of your sound logic. they will either not care because they've been targeting trans men/mascs in bathrooms all this time too, or simply not believe that you're not a trans woman. and then it's gonna get dangerous.

all this doesn't even include how the whole "i'm gonna put the fear of big, hairy masculine-looking people using the women's restroom in these TERFs" rhetoric is gonna affect trans guys/mascs who DO need access to women's restrooms for whatever reason, trans women/fems that don't look like your patriarchal beauty standard come to life who need these spaces, nonbinary people who look like that, masc and butch cis women who look like that, intersex folks who look like that. you're not doing anyone any favours whatsoever by trying to paint a slender, feminine, no-body-hair woman as the only demographic safe to allow into women's spaces.

oh and, they (i mean the trans men and mascs peddling this rhetoric) need to stop painting trans men/mascs as predatory people who won't be safe for women to be around as well. crazy how we have to remind people to not paint trans people as predators :)

.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

hey! i think you mentioned dealing with hair receding in another ask at some point, but im a trans guy, been on t for about 3 years, and ive been noticing my hairline recede for some time now. its now reached a point where my spouse can no longer deny the slow crawl, but my doctor hasnt been much help (sort of just saying "these things happen"). if i may ask, what did you do to help with it?

Yooo! A big peeve of mine is cis folks treating thinning trans masc hair as some kind of punishment for HRT. Because you can try stuff. Ymmv, just like a cis man. And just like a cis man, if hairloss meds work for you, you'll have to stay on them for as long as you want to keep that hair.

I take oral finasteride - it's been about 1.5 years now and I have definitely seen the crawl backwards stop/significantly slow. I wish I had started it sooner.

I am lucky in that I do not suffer from the bad side effects, which include decreased libido and even suicidal ideation. But I did notice my body hair thinned considerably (makes me a little sad), and I will spot very, very lightly during my cycle (makes me a little dysphoric).

I am also going to try topical minoxidil in the hopes of maybe getting a half inch back, especially at the temples. Being very mindful about its toxicity to cats.

I'm pretty fine with my hairline (I find a lot of receding hairlines to be super hot in men), but I'd like to nudge it forward just a tad, if I can. I mainly just don't want it creeping back any more.

Crown balding does not run in either side of the family for me, just the front. And I'm aware that a lot of receding hairlines simply cannot be fixed. But, why not try if it's an option. I'd rather it do nothing than wonder "what if".

Other folks welcome to chime in!

[notsodelirious]

help me out? — jason todd

synopsis: jason helps you do you shot, that’s it :)

notes: I wrote this with a trans masc!reader in mind but any genders and medication aren’t mentioned <3 also purely self-indulgent

tags: pure fluff, mentions of needles (kinda duh), assumed established relationship, <1k, no use of y/n, SFW with the vaguest innuendo ever

Sunday is injection day. You don’t really make the rules, that’s just how life ended up and sunday is assigned injection day.

Which conveniently happens to be the day Jason stays over at yours the longest. Between patrol and cases and the occasional gang to run, Jason is in and out of the apartment pretty frequently, more of a pit stop than an actual place to stay and recuperate.

But sundays, the most work he does is looking over a case file while he lounged on your sofa, lying across it like he owned it, bare feet on the coffee table and all.

“You’re staring.”

He doesn’t even raise his head from the paper he’s reading, flipping to another page before returning to his original one.

“Can’t I just be looking at my beautiful boyfriend?”

“No, you want something.” He drops his work beside him in favour of putting an arm on the back of the sofa to look over at you, perched on a kitchen bar stool.

“No, I’m good.”

“So you just enjoy staring at the back of my head? For fun?” You hum as you nod unconvincingly. “Spit it out.”

“It’s nothing!”

“Dude-!”

“I need help with my shot.”

“Jesus-“ He near smacks his head against the back of the sofa but you know he bears no actual annoyance towards you. Maybe a little—but it’s never serious. “Yeah, of course I’ll help.”

“Can we do it in the bedroom?”

You watch as he stands, rising to his full height, as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, ‘course,” he says as he walks around the sofa to make his way towards you. When he finally reaches you, he wraps and arm around your shoulder and squeezes you against him briefly. It had taken a while to get to any stage of Jason showing you affection—and never in the form of kisses and gentle hugs but random squeezes and small taps. Always aware of his own strength and your not as sturdy body, he never hurts you and you remain ever grateful for his love and attention.

“Go get settled. I’ll wash my hands and I’ll be with you.”

You slip off the stool, walking to the bedroom to shimmy your trousers down to your knees and fall onto the edge of the bed, idly messing with the covers as you wait for Jason to come. He appears not two minutes later, vial, syringe, gauze and disinfectant in hand.

When he kneels in front of you, you do your best to smother your smile and your giddy heart.

“I like you there.”

“All you have to do is ask,” he smirks up at you as he grabs the disinfectant and a piece of sterile gauze from where he set them on the bedside table.

He wipes your thigh down carefully before picking up the syringe, prepping it then gently nudging you to lean backwards until you’re leaning back on your hands.

“Ready?”

It’s done before you can even nod properly, nothing more than a pinch but you tense anyway. He gives you a minute before he pushes down the plunger.

“You know it stings less when you relax.”

“Mimi mi mi mi,” you mumble back. Childish? Maybe. But it helps a little with the discomfort of having a whole needle in your thigh. He pulls it out, pressing a new piece of gauze to the exit wound before you even have time to glimpse it. He sets the needle on the bedside table to be disposed of in a minute before he’s offering you two plasters, a blue one and a spider-man one.

“What am I, five?”

“Do you want a lollipop too?” he snorts as he watches you pick the spider-man plaster and start to peel it open, laying in on as soon as he removes the gauze. He pats your thigh, kisses your hip before standing. Quick hands dismantle the syringe as you shimmy back into your trousers, then you just sit and watch as he disposed of the sharp waste.

“Thanks,” you say softly when he returns to you, cupping his face to lay a gentle kiss on his lips. He leans in for another kiss, just the slightest bit heavier, deeper as he leans you back until your back is against the mattress.

“You’re welcome, sweet cheeks.”

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

(did you know that testosterone makes you really fucking horny? might write a sequel lmao)

[velvetvexations]

We were thinking about some of the many misconceptions involved in gender essentialism recently, and one that stuck out to us as often causing a lot of downstream bad takes: it seems like some trans discourse theorists think (implicitly or explicitly) that, at the exact moment that a trans man notices and and acknowledges his gender identity as male, (even if only in the quiet of his own mind and heart), he immediately and retroactively becomes heir to and in possession of the full scope of male privilege in the context of a patriarchal society, by nothing more than the sheer force of this internal identification alone.

This is obviously a compelling idea for some people, but in terms of a person’s literal daily reality in society, it’s immediately ludicrous: someone who has grown up being repeatedly assigned and policed into a female social role isn’t going to suddenly have benefited from the full scope of male privilege just because his internal sense of gender doesn’t align with the one that society has been trying to make him fit into, nor will the marks from the specific type of violent gender enforcement experiences that any “girl who is acting insufficiently feminine and also excessively masculine” is frequently subject to be erased on the spot. Furthermore, most places in a transphobic society will not acknowledge his gender as real and valid masculinity if he expresses it, and continue to treat him—likely with escalating intensity—as a member of the aforementioned category of “deviant” girls/women (which, it should be mentioned, can potentially include people of any gender as well as trans men). Most cis and perisex boys and men, however, do not get societally categorized and treated as “deviant girls/women” at any point in their lives (even though their societally-assigned gender roles are also policed in violent and harmful ways too, of course). Therefore, thinking that an arbitrary trans man’s internal gender identity alone is sufficient to grant him categorical societal male privilege isn’t likely to accurately reflect his experiences—and it becomes even more obvious when considering multigender singlets, intersex people, and systems.

Do we personally instantly gain and lose Categorical Male Privilege every time that my headmate (male) switches in for me (female) and vice versa, when the only observable changes are slight differences in posture, intonation, and personality? Does changing our clothing and presentation—even though we currently only pass as one of our genders, not both—instantly afford or deny us the sanction of the patriarchy, ignoring the reality of an internal gender identity or of our outward body and societally-perceived gender? (I will keep it ambiguous as to what our own societally-perceived gender is, because examples of both “directions” of this situation are common in the system population). And, of course—what happens if we’re both co-fronting? What if we’re blurred and experiencing identity confusion? Do we have schrodinger’s male privilege until one of us is able to ground themselves fully in front? Etc. So much of the discourse we see seems to hinge upon binary and immutable categories of Male vs Female (sometimes stylized as “masc vs femme”, with little to no added nuance), and reducing people to nothing more than their AGABs—just with the cis-typical power dynamic assumption inverted. Which…well. The glaring exorsexism and refusal to acknowledge the complexity that even a binary-gender person may experience is confusing and alienating.

It's because it's gender validating. Like, if you feeling like a woman or a man means you're instantly treated exactly identical to cis women or cis men, yay, objective proof of your soul-gender. And to do this people willfully confuse "being treated like a cis woman" with "being treated badly" and "being treated badly" and "being treated like a cis man" with "being treated with baseline decency," and then assumes that those experiences are universally consistent among trans people along gender lines.

[hufflepuffsthunderdome]

Shut Down

Jschlatt x trans masc!reader Summary: Reader feels insecure about his top surgery scars and turns down Schlatt's advances. Anxieties boil over when both are convinced their boyfriend doesn't want them. Warnings: Body image issues, OCD behaviour, self harm/self injury behaviour, skin scratching/picking, body dysmorphia, anxiety, bad communication, fluffy ending A/N: Based on this request by @gavin-isstupid 🫶 I usually don't write and have never written a trans or male reader, given I'm a cis girl, so feedback is very much welcome

His soft, delicate lips leave yours, a breathy laugh hitting your face when his hand comes up to gently swipe the string of spit connecting you. You smile up at him as your eyes flutter open, trailing a delicate hand through his hair as you watch his eyes dart lovingly across your face. "Love you," he murmurs softly as his grip on your upper waist tightens slightly, humming happily when he feels your fingers card through his hair.

You whisper back into the dark room, soft orange glow of the lamp illuminating your boyfriend's features, "I love you too."

Your lips collide again, gentle as you hold each other close, his arms snaking around your frame, yours pulling him closer by his shoulders as you melt against each other. His soft lips drift, breaking away from yours to pepper kisses across your jaw, down your neck, his hold on you tightening when you squirm beneath him. He keeps his lips soft and gentle against your skin, warmth filling his stomach as he fails to fight another breathy chuckle.

His lips trail down, lower, soft and gentle, down your neck, down to your collarbone, gently pulling the collar of your shirt down to reveal more skin to him. You force yourself to stay present, tilting your head back up to the ceiling as you breathe deeply, focusing on the soft warmth of his lips on your skin and trying to ignore their location.

You feel the cool air hit your stomach as your shirt slides up your body, large hands following as the rough pads of Schlatt's fingers explore your skin. You feel the goosebumps that raise on your skin, feeling the dread that settles in below it more, deep in your bones.

He sits up surprised when he feels you scramble under him, furrowed eyes watching you as you wiggle free from his grasp. He lets go of his grip on you, placing his hands limply at his sides as he watches you flop off the bed and dart for the bathroom, "where you going handsome?"

You hear his calls of surprise but don't reply, taking in cool air through your nose as you try to suppress the bile that builds in the back of your throat, your skin burning violently where his hands were. "I'll be back," you manage to force out, shutting the bathroom door behind you as you collapse back against it, covering your face with your hands as you silently scream into them.

Your shirt hangs loose on your shoulders, swallowing you as the fabric seems to grow heavier and heavier, as you become more away of the feeling of it against your skin. You rip it over your head, breath faltering as you throw it across the room and have to come face to face with your bare skin, blunt nails scratching at it as you fight against your feet that walk you over to the mirror.

Your eyes immediately catch on the raised skin under your pecs, wide and long, stretching along to the sides of your body. Your skin feels hot as you stare at them, willing them to vanish before your eyes if you stare hard enough. The more you look the more they pop out, harsh against your skin as your nails again scratch anxious marks against your chest. Maybe if you scratch hard enough your skin will morph to your will, if you press hard enough your firm hands will shape your body the way you want it. Make you broader, flatter, squarer.

The heat of the shower drenches your body as you clasp your hands aggressively together in front of you, forcing yourself to keep them accounted for so they don't start scratching and prodding at your skin again. You force yourself to stay under the hot water, not even washing yourself, just letting the water rinse you, the heat on your skin blossoming to match the anxious heat burning under it's surface.

You look down with a shaky sigh, watching as the hot water turns your chest a red colour, the scars blending in slightly. You let yourself breath out in relief as for a fleeting moment you're able to forget about the lines on your chest you hate so much.

You don't talk about last night the next morning, Schlatt doesn't seemed fazed by it and you'd rather die than bring it up, so you let it rest, going about your day as normal. Until again, it happens in the kitchen at lunch time, the car that evening, the following day on the couch. His lips seek yours out, like a moth to a flame, anytime he sees the opportunity arise, and every time you slink away from him at the first feeling of his firm hands on your bare skin. Escaping from under him and shying away to the bathroom where you can scrub the anxiety off your body.

Until eventually he stops.

He's fairly persistent. He never pressures you into anything, he just lets you out from under him every time you get uncomfortable and doesn't bring it up again. But he is persistent. He doesn't let it faze him for a long while, each rejection, each de-escalation, just seems to fuel him further the next time he lays you down gently in bed and attaches himself to you wherever you'll let him. Until it slowly stops. Kisses become chaste, touches become friendly, the urgency and need vanishing in his touch. He can only handle so much.

He hadn't been doing it intentionally, he hadn't meant to retreat into himself around you, it just seemed to become the norm when he knew what the outcome would be otherwise. He'd release his hold on you and watch you walk off into the bathroom, left to stew in his own anxiety when he'd hear the shower turn on. He didn't wanna push you, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you at all, but this is what boyfriends were meant to do? Love each other like this?

You just mustn't want him.

He couldn't seem to shake that thought loose from his brain, feeling it bounce around violently each time he'd watch you retreat from him. He was trying hard to not let it get to him, not let it effect the way he was around you, but now, every lingering touch or gentle kiss you'd try to return just felt forced. He tried harder for a while, convinced he just wasn't serving you in the way you wanted, he just hadn't figured out yet what made you melt. But each time he'd hear your breath hitch he'd hope he was doing something right, instead watching your face morph with anxiety as you ran away.

He felt like a monster, overwhelming you with affection until you had no choice but to return it until it clearly got too much for you. It made him feel sick, thinking that you were putting on this façade for him, to dull the pain that was bound to rip him apart when you told him you didn't find him attractive, that you just didn't want him. He just couldn't bare it.

So instead, you settled into your new routine. Visiting each other after work, sitting on opposite sides of the couch and watching a movie in silence. Going out on the weekend and getting lunch, chatting casually as you walked around, hands stuffed in your pockets to prevent you from holding hands. Taking separate cars when you'd go see friends, arriving and leaving alone just like everyone else. Both of you destroying yourselves from the inside out with your anxieties.

You both missed each other desperately. A milion miles apart in the same room.

It had been a particularly bad day at work, one of those days where nothing seemed to go right. It seemed like every atom in the universe was telling you to pack it in and go home, traffic, customers, managers, even the way your clothes fit, it was all just wrong. It left you completely exhausted.

You trudge up the stairs to Schlatt's apartment, shutting and locking the door behind you with a content sigh when you kick your boots off. "Hey Jay," you call to your boyfriend, watching him pause his game and turn you with a wide smile as he stands.

"Who's this handsome man huh?" he says with a goofy smile as he opens his arms for you to collapse into, planting a kiss on your head as he placing his hands loosely on your biceps, "breaking into my house?"

You pinch his side playfully as you laugh into his chest, trying to shake off the way you feel him stiffen slightly under you, hands awkwardly on your arms. You focus on just enjoying the feeling of him against you, "work was hell, I just wanted to see you."

He hums softly against your head as he guides you over to the couch, removing his arms from you as he settles you down on it, sitting down with about a person's length in between. He goes to speak, but the words die in his throat when he feels the couch shift as you flop over, your head resting on his lap as you lie down.

"You wanna watch a movie?" he says nervously, hiding the shake of his voice through his thick accent as he gently lifts your head and pushes you to sit up again, reaching for the remote. He can feel your shocked stare on the side of his head as he sits back, crossing one leg over the other in an attempt to guard himself from your touch.

You just stare. Watching as your boyfriend so casually shrugs you off, like he doesn't care about how exhausted you are, how badly you just want him to hold you. Did he really find it that impossible to even pretend to want to touch you?

"Y/N?" he asks when he doesn't get a response, keeping his eyes locked on the TV.

That's when it starts, the trickle of tears that turns to a flood as you push off the couch and stumble to the bathroom. You can hear him calling your name behind you, but they fall on deaf ears as you stumble blindly to the bathroom, tears clouding your vision.

The second the door shuts behind you you're ripping off your clothes, throwing them away as if the fabric itself is burning you. You ignore the knock on the door, breath stuttering as Schlatt calls your name on the other side as you drown it out with the sound of the shower.

He waits patiently for you to answer, concern washing over him as he hears you sobbing inside the bathroom. He keeps knocking, even when he hears the sound of the shower start, wanting desperately to know what's going on.

He lets you have your space for a while, standing guard at the door, heart heavy with anxiety. When he hears your cries turn to all out sobs of pain he can't take it, pushing the door open. "Y/N?" he asks gently, blinking through the cloud of hot steam that's filling the bathroom, "Y/N what's wrong?"

He watches you ignore him, hands aggressively scrubbing your bare body as the water falls around you. He watches as your skin turns an angry red as you scrub it, heart aching as he sees you sob out in pain. Without a second thought he steps into the shower alongside you, still fully clothed, pulling you tightly against him and holding your palms in his as he rocks you.

"You're ok," he coos softly into your hair, turning the temperature of the water down slightly so it's not burning your skin, "you're ok I promise, I've got you."

He stands there and sways with you for a long while, warming your skin with his body instead of the nearly boiling water from the shower, whispering soft words into your hair as he attempts to sooth you.

Your nails dig into your palms as you fight the urge to keep scrubbing at your skin, focusing on the feeling of Schlatt behind you and trying to ignore the need to morph your body to your desire, the fear of being seen like this. He calms you down eventually, moving your exhausted body out of the shower and wrapping you in a towel, helping you slip on some new clothes, doing the same to his own, when you make your way to the bedroom.

His eyes stay locked on the aggressive scratch marks and prints from your fingers along the skin he can see, stomach dropping at the visual sight of your struggles he had no idea about, "do wanna talk about it?"

"I'm sorry I look like this," you blurt out as soon as the question leaves his lips, feeling the barrier of your anxiety break as he opens the floor to let you talk, "I'm sorry I don't look like how I should and that you don't want me, I wish it wasn't like this but I tried to change it and now I have these scars that won't go away and there's nothing I can do about it," you heave out, eyes staying locked on his as he stares at you in surprise. He lets you speak, letting you spout all your anxious thoughts as he listens and tries to take in everything he can.

"That's what you're worried about?" he asks gently when you stop, watching you struggle for a second to catch your breath, "your body?"

You just nod silently as you stare down at the floor embarrassed.

"Your body doesn't make you a man," he reminds you as he reaches out gently to lay his hand on the side of your neck, reading you like a book, "it doesn't make you any less of an incredible friend and brother... and boyfriend."

"I don't wanna feel like this though," you exclaim as you bring your hands up to tug your hair, "I- I wanna like myself-"

"And you will," Schlatt says firmly, pulling you against his chest as his thighs sandwich your body between them, "it just takes time. For everyone, let alone someone who's had to work so hard."

You let out a shaky breath at his words, leaning back against him "they're not some trophy I can wear with pride, they're proof that I have to try so hard to be who I am."

He frowns as he holds you tighter, planting a soft kiss to your head as he rocks with you gently, "they're proof of how hard you've worked. Proof that you're tougher than anything."

"But I'm not tough- I don't feel tough," you stutter out.

"But you will be, I promise you will be."

You sit together for a long while in silence as he holds you, swaying gently as you lean into his body. "Y/N?" he asks gently and you hum, "can I take this off?" He gives you a gentle tug to your shirt and with a shaky breath you nod, preparing yourself for that burning feeling to settle under your skin.

He moves to sit next to you on the bed, gently pulling your shirt over your arms and feeling his breath catch when he gets a good look at you. He was never a sentimental guy, but you, right now, shirtless in the soft glow of the lamp in his bedroom, this was the kinda stuff they write poems about.

“Jesus Christ,” he finally said, his voice rougher than he intended. You flinch away from his gaze, and he curses himself, reaching out a comforting hand before you could shut down. His hands landed warm and firm on your sides, thumbs tracing slow, careful circles over your skin. “I mean—fuck, come on... you’re just perfect.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his compliment, unable to stop the smile that breaks out on your face. "Like seriously," he says, his thumb shifting up to trace the scars on your chest, "this is what you were worried about? Scared you were too attractive?"

That has a laugh bubbling from your throat as you scoff and nudge him away, mumbling a small shut up as he tackles you to the bed in a hug. He wraps his warm arms around you, lips meeting the newly exposed skin as he peppers soft kisses along anything he can find, "like it kinda makes me sick how good lookin' you are."

You just lay together, wrapped up in each other, laughing together, as the anxiety from the past weeks melts away with each soft kiss he plants on your skin. "I'm sorry," you mumble softly as you thread a finger through his hair, "I didn't mean to push you away."

"I didn't mean to either, I just got in my own head," he mumbles as he settles himself on top of you, head resting gently on your chest as he wraps his arms around you, "we gotta talk to each other next time."

You hum in agreement as you card a hand through his hair, feeling the butterflies erupt in your stomach as his eyes droop shut sleepily, warmth blossoming as he plants a gentle kiss to your scar.

"I don't expect you to go parading around the streets topless if that's not what you want," he says softly against your skin, "but they're nothing to be ashamed of," he shifts slightly so he can look up at you "they don't make me think any less of you, or think you're any less handsome than you are."

You lean down and plant a gentle loving kiss on his lips, pulling away as he speaks again, "even if you're not proud of them," he says, thumb tracing your scar gently, "I am. I'm proud of you."

[hilda3v3]

🔞18+ minors DNI🔞

🔞WILL BLOCK AGELESS BLOGS🔞

🔞NS/FT BLOG🔞

🔞GROSS AND TABOO KINKS🔞

Losers, sluts, bitches, nerds THAT ARE WOMEN/NBS only. Will block men who interact.

🖤Enter if you dare🖤

My names Mathilda, welcome to my blog.

Identity: Butch lesbian & trans woman

Pronouns: She/her + masc titles like sir or daddy. (don’t call me a boy, or he/him…)

On here I might post some photography, some poetry, some bass playing, some selfies, some stuff about my life, and maybe some training footage. Maybe a sexy pic or two, who knows. Also yearning, lots of yearning.

🖤LESBIANS OF ALL SHAPES AND SIZES🖤WOMEN BUTCHES FEMMES MASCS FEMS ENBIES TRANS GIRLS LESBOYS MAKE MY HEART BEAT FAST😈

Free Palestine, Black Lives Matter, end trans hate. If any of that offends you, then you’re not welcome.

Kinks past the break

please don’t judge 😣

VVV

Stuff not on the bdsm test:

gentle choking, praise, biting, scratching, marks, hair pulling, knives, blood, spit, sweat, scent, voice, power imbalance, blindfolding, oral fixation, fauxcest, impact, cnc, intox, somno, free use, inspection, muscles, smothering, feet, armpits, lesser known cnc roleplay (think ‘dares’, ‘bets’, ‘accidentally’ going to far, ‘lying’ about just the tip), force fem (reluctantly loving it and just shy), clothed stuff (dry humping, stepped on by a boot, lifting a skirt, pulling panties aside, groping under a shirt etc)

Hard no:

peeing on me or them, fauxcest/ageplay being taken too far, scat, farting, raceplay, sissy, misgendering

Specific fantasies:

Genuinely fighting and wrestling for dominance. Against someone much stronger, against someone roughly equal, or against someone much weaker. Every option has sooo much potential 🫠

Pervert Butch who won’t stop grabbing me or kissing me, won’t take no for an answer, picks out easy access clothes for me, stares shamelessly, parades me around their friends and shows off how much of a slut I am by making me show my body, touching me in front of them, letting them use me.

Little who draws crayon drawings of us as stick figures holding hands, calls me daddy, who’s so so sweet, that I punish even though she’s been good all day. who I tie down and fuck relentlessly while they tell me no daddy no.

Teased all day by bratty little sister. Until a bet goes wrong and I’m tied down and teased until I can’t take it anymore and break free. Pinning her down while she begs me for forgiveness and not to. Doing it anyways because “isn’t this what you wanted all along?”

Being asked to talk (or dragged) somewhere private during a party or gathering, so they can force themself on me

Snarling wolf x Little kitty/puppy/bunny/fawn

TEACHER WHO ABUSES OUR SPECIAL TEACHERS PET RELATIONSHIP, ABUSES MY TRUST AND BODY BY USING THEIR POSITION OF AUTHORITY, TELLING ME THEY KNOW I WANT IT AND IGNORING MY PLEAS TO STOP

Domme taking a break from a task by teasing and stimulating me through my clothes, moaning in my ear how much of a slut I am then shoving me aside like trash

[procyonloser]

Mini fic, adamsapple, trans masc Adam, vampire Lucifer, dubcon

Adam stumbled down the street, drunk, tired, angry, drunk, furious, did he say drunk already? His girlfriend had dumped him, again, but this time he was pretty sure it was going to stick since she was fucking pregnant, and Adam didn't have a fucking dick. He didn't wish her well, in fact he wished her worse, before he left to get fucking trashed. Had he said fuck enough times yet?

Eventually he got kicked out of the bar, and had to go... to the next bar, before that one kicked him out too. He'd started hitting on any girl he saw, and the last place eventually kicked him out for, according to them, offering to go down on a portrait of the madam who'd ran the bar in 1889. Whatever, Adam had booze at home. So, to home he went, very slowly, trying not to trip over his feet too much.

Adam rounded a corner, and blearily blinked in realization it didn't seem familiar, he must have taken a wrong turn - then, he saw something else. A figure was collapsed on the ground, legs buckled under them, and another individual was just barely keeping their head up. Except, it didn't look like they'd caught them, it seemed more as though-

The man looked over his shoulder, back at Adam. His hair was a pale blond, and his eyes were glowing red, pupils a bright unearthly gold. Blood was dripping down his chin.

"Hey, fucker! Let them go!" Adam yelled, marching forward, never one to back down from a fight. Plus, it helped he could tell he was close to a foot taller than the guy. Adam was taller than most people, including most cis guys he met, which in Adam's mind made him the alpha male.

In a blink of an eye, Adam was slammed up against a wall, a hand around his throat, and inhuman eyes stared up at him with mild annoyance; until suddenly they widened in surprise.

"Wait, I know your scent." The figure said, sniffing the air. "Why do I know your scent..."

Adam struggled against him, it seemed insane that a tiny guy like this, who looked more like a librarian or a fucking jester, could be this strong. It wasn't just that he was drunk, this thing wasn't human.

The hand slid down, gripping into Adam's shirt to jerk his head down, until they were face to face. "You smell so..."

Adam flinched as the thing leaned in and bite hard into his neck. It was painful, more than he was expecting, but his struggling was useless. But, suddenly, pleasure began to flood through his body. It throbbed in his head, his chest, between his legs. From terror to abject ecstasy, Adam moaned, his hands no longer trying to push away, but to pull him in closer.

The man let go, before biting down again, and Adam came, legs suddenly weak. He was soaked, like he could drown a horse he was so wet. A hand pushed down the front of his pants, and very quickly coaxed him to another orgasm.

"Call me Lucifer," the man said, pulling his hand out and licking his blood off his lips before licking his fingers. "You'll be seeing me again."

In a flash, Lucifer vanished, and Adam was left with a headache, sticky pants, and the knowledge he should probably google vampires.

[marimology]

Pairing: ichiji vinsmoke x charlotte! trans masc reader

notes: smut, cnc (consensual) , arranged marriage ( mentions sanji and pudding), somewhat romeo and juliet inspired trope, Getting caught, almost getting caught, only ‘person?’ who knows about the relationship is y/n’s door because it lets them know if someone is nearby, transponder snail sex (phone sex), this is me letting my brain cook like sanji , cuckholding

a/n : I love this red headed loser, also my requests are open , ichiji is a girl dad argue with the wall

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who did not expect to fall in love with the 7th son of Charlotte LinLin when he and his family came over came over to whole cake to discuss the marriage between sanji and pudding. ears perking as you heard that they would be here for the next four months.

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who when he saw you sitting next to mama his heart would flutter whenever you would try to hold a conversation with him and you would stop as you noticed big mom staring down at you.

ICHJI VINSMOKE who after a month of being on whole cake finally got the courage to ask you out con a date and being surprised when you said yes but you two would have to choose wisely as the public only knew about Sanji and puddings wedding. so he took you out for a picnic underneath a bridge.

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who loved to leave hickeys around your body but in places where you would be able to hide them after every day so you wouldn’t get in trouble with your family and vise versa.

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who loves to threaten you with cumming inside of you every time that you both fuck so that you could walk around with his baby and your family would be wondering whose the father.

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who once him and his family left whole cake,missed the touch of your skin and your velvet walls clenching around his cock begging him not to cum inside of you, and your whimpers as you felt his cock form a bludge in your belly .

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who loves to call you after a raid, jerking off to your wanted poster each time your bounty raises saying that he’d turn you into the marines only after fucking you in front of them first. you both have memorized your respective family members sleep schedules memorized as you would masturbate on a call together as the transponder snail would capture all of your pretty noises.

it has now been over a year

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who kept a calendar hidden in his room where he’d count down the days until the next time they’d go to whole cake so he could show you how much he missed you and could pepper your skin with kisses once more, and that night he brought up the topic of getting married in secret which you happily said yes to with tears forming and he wears a cape on his suit that has a button / ring that’s actually his wedding ring whilst you wear yours as a pair of earrings

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who only hated sanji more because he couldn’t publicly say that you were his husband.

sanji vinsmoke who when walking past ichiji’s room heard him end a call with a “love you” but couldn’t pick out who he was talking to … it’s not like he wanted to anyways he care less as to what that asshole was doing he knew he couldn’t feel any emotion towards anyone

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who as soon as Germa docked back on whole cake and they had sanji meet pudding. went to find you in your room and embraced you in the warmest hug that you’ve ever felt and it was your first embrace as husbands. and later that night had you whimpering on his cock and told you how much he missed you as your brain was being turned into mush as you were being forced to take his cock after being overstimulated.

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who was happy that straw-hat came wanting to save sanji because that meant that if sanji leaves then he could publicly marry you

brulee charlotte who should’ve minded her own damn business when she was looking through her mirror realm and saw you being made to look at the mirror by a siluette that she couldn’t make out nor did she want to

yonji vinsmoke who wanted to spar with you and went to your room and asked your door to speak with you but was pissed off when it said you were busy and snuck around to try and see what you possibly could’ve been doing that was more important than sparring with him and almost falling over when he saw the sight of you sitting on his brothers lap taking his dick with your face buried in his neck and a Visual Den Den Mushi recording every moment of it as ichiji whispered praises. he should’ve minded his own damn business, but he could see the love in his brothers eyes as he looked you

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who’s heart shattered when big mom announced that she had arranged a marriage between you and a princess from a neighboring kingdom. and you both spared quick glances at eachother, but the poor girl clearly looked like she was in love

later that same night he took both you and the girl to your room and fucked you in front her. telling her that she’d never get a chance to feel how good you are and she should just go somewhere and die because she’s a homewrecker.

And ironically she was found dead the next day and you didn’t know who it was that killed her….. it was ichiji

YOU AND ICHIJI who took the chance to feign your own deaths during the fight between the big mom pirates ,vinsmokes, and straw hats and ran away to be able to live a happy life together only yonji knows you two are still alive

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who is definitely not the worlds most perfect husband but is happy that you even decided to give him a chance

it’s been four years since that day and everyone mourns the lost of you two but little do they know you both live in the same secluded town with your older sister lola and are raising 2 children

TAGLIST: @henrioo @gomugomuslip

©marimology do not steal or copy my work

[0o-junebug-o0]

I know you don't see Emily as anything but a lesbian but could you possibly do a trans reader? It can trans non-binary or masc like a demi boy, but they're afraid to come out to Emily because she is very open that she's gay?

Coming Out

Here you go!

genre: angst and fluff, hurt/comfort

cw: coming out, trans masc!reader, no use of y/n, panic attacks

wordcount: 1.2k

You pace back and forth across the living room, taking deep, steadying breaths to try to calm yourself. You groan in frustration and sit on the edge of the couch, burying your head in your hands. You can feel your hands shaking.

You’re terrified. You’ve been dating Emily for almost two years. You live together. How do you tell her you’re not the girl she started dating? And you have no idea what it will mean for your relationship when you do. Emily is a lesbian. She likes women. And you’re not a woman. 

You lean back and run your hands over your chest, reveling in the flatness. Your binder arrived three weeks ago. You had made sure it would be delivered while Emily was on a case. You immediately hid it, and have only worn it while Emily is out of town and there’s no chance of her seeing it. 

It makes you feel so incredibly guilty.

She’s your girlfriend. You shouldn’t be hiding stuff from her. 

You adjust the binder with a grunt. It’s still uncomfortable to wear since you haven’t gotten used to it yet, but it’s worth it. You check your watch. Emily should be home in a few minutes. You don’t want to ambush her with this the second she walks through the door but you’ve been hyping yourself up all week and if you don’t do it soon, you’re not sure you ever will. 

Still, you’re scared. What if she breaks up with you because you’re not a woman? What if she gets mad that you didn’t tell her sooner? What if this makes her hate you?

A panicked sob bubbles up your throat and you curl in on yourself, hugging your stomach to try to calm down. You can feel your heart rate picking up as you gasp for air. 

You force yourself to take deep breaths and the shakiness of each inhale is audible. Then you hear Emily’s key turning in the lock and your panic increases. She’s here, she’s going to see you like this, she’s going to hate you. 

She calls your name from the entryway as she moves around and even though that’s still the name you use, the sound causes a sob to tear from your chest. You hear Emily freeze. You clap a hand over your mouth, and though you desperately want to get up and lock yourself in the bathroom to hide, your body won’t cooperate. 

You hear Emily’s footsteps coming toward the living room and your breathing picks up until you’re hyperventilating and gasping between sobs.

“Woah, hey, hey,” Emily says softly, sitting beside you on the couch. “What’s going on? What happened?” She rests her hand on your back and starts rubbing soothing circles.

You practically shove your body against hers, not caring that you're staining her shirt with your tears, just desperate to touch her in case this is the last time you can. “P-please don’t hate me,” you wail.

“Oh, sweetie,” Emily mutters kindly. “I could never hate you.”

You curl your fingers into the front of her shirt and cling to it like a lifeline. “You don’t—you don’t know that,” you sob.

“I do know that,” Emily reassures you.

You sniff and pull away, untangling your hands from her shirt. You look her in the eyes for a moment, noticing the clear concern written on her face. You lift your hand and hold out your pinkie. “Pi-pinkie promise?” you stutter. You feel like a child for asking, but you’re so desperate for her answer that you can’t bring yourself to care. 

Emily removes her hand from your back and curls her pinkie around yours. “Pinkie promise.”

You sniff again and unlatch your pinkie to rub your face. Emily’s hand returns to your back. 

“I—“ you start. You can feel your chin wobble and you bite on your lower lip to stop it. You bow your head, too afraid to watch the changes in her expression as you tell her. “I’m not a girl.”

You feel Emily’s hand still for a moment before it starts moving again. She doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m non binary. Or at least that’s what feels like it fits. Pl-please, don’t be mad! I understand if you want to break u—"

“Woah, hey,” Emily interrupts. “I’m not mad, I promise. But do–do you want to break up?” Her voice is wary and it shakes slightly.

Your head shoots up to look at her. “No! Never!” you insist. “But I–I thought you might want to.”

“What on Earth could make you think that?” Emily asks. There isn’t a hint of malice or annoyance in her voice. Just curiosity and concern.

“Be-because you’re a lesbian. And I’m not a girl,” you mutter.

“Oh, sweetheart. I don’t care about that,” Emily coos. “You’re so much more important to me than what I call myself. I love you for you, not for your gender. I don’t care what you identify as, I will always love you.”

Tears stream down your cheeks and you wipe them away violently. “Th-thank you,” you gasp.

“Oh, honey.” Emily pulls you against her chest, holding you close and moving her hand to rub up and down your arm. “There’s nothing to thank me for.”

“Yes, there is,” you argue, your voice muffled against her.

Emily presses a kiss to the top of your head instead of arguing. “I do have some questions I want to ask, though, if that’s okay.”

You nod against her chest and tilt your head to look up at her.

She smiles down at you kindly. “Do you, um, do you want to go by a different name?” she asks awkwardly.

You shake your head. 

“What about pronouns?”

“I like they/them, but I’m not sure,” you admit. “And I don’t like being called a girl.”

Emily nods. “Okay. That's good to know. I, um, I might mess up sometimes at first but I promise I'll be doing my best.”

“That’s all I want,” you whisper, and press a kiss to her chin. 

She smiles and lowers her head to catch your lips for a brief kiss.

“How long have you known?” Emily asks softly.

You hum and furrow your brow as you try to think back. “Maybe five months,” you say. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Hey, I’m not upset about that. I could never be. Coming out is hard.”

“I bought myself a binder a few weeks ago too,” you admit.

Emily’s brow furrows in confusion. “A binder?”

You nod. “It’s a compression garment, kind of like a beefed up sports bra, that flattens your chest.” You lean back and run your hands over your chest to show her. “See?”

“Impressive,” Emily says with a slight laugh.

You laugh in response. “Yeah. I, um, I really like it. It makes me happy. And feel right. If that makes sense.”

Emily nods and pulls you in for another kiss. “It does. And I’m glad.”

“You’re the best,” you whisper against her lips.

“I know,” she teases. 

You laugh and lightly bat her shoulder and Emily laughs too.

“I love you, sweet thing,” she mutters. 

You hum. “I love you too. And I like that nickname.”

Emily chuckles. “Better than 'sweet girl'?”

“Much better.”

_____

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[genderqueerdykes]

To the Anon who mentioned having osdd1 I'm 27 and I also have OSDD 1B (distinct alters but little to no amnesia), you're not alone. While I can't speak for others with the condition and I am not expert. I have moments of feeling awkward in my own skin and feeling like I shouldn't belong anywhere. We consider our body to be a binary trans masc (going as far as to say man), but there are alters in our system who identify a woman or non-binary and it fucks with the whole system.

Especially when the princess alter comes out and while she's good at not doing anything in front of others it adds to our imposter syndrome watch her dress up femininely and refer to herself as a proud lesbian. Cause she deserves to be happy even if she's the only one of two female alters in a system of 12. I wish I could let her explore that side of her, but there is so much stigma around our disorder that if I did let her it would be met with hate and it took her so long to feel comfortable fronting again. Then of course we have 3 aspec alters that like platonic relationships but get weirded out by physical intimacy (ironically 1 of them writes and publishes the filthiest fan fic smut).

Which all of this is to say you might never feel completely on the same page, but you can work together to present your consistent self in a way that is comfortable for everyone (in the system) involved. But also give them spaces to explore themselves without shame. You'd be surprised how much more centered you become when you let each other be themselves. We're stuck together for the foreseeable future in this meat mech of a body after all.

thank you for this!

[henrioo]

°•*⁀➷ MORNING SICKNESS: SHANKS

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Being pregnant with Luffy, your first child with your husband Shanks, is a dream come true... But that doesn't make it any easier to deal with the recurring nausea."

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : TRANS MASC! Reader, TRANS MALE! reader, FTM reader, pregnant men, he/his pronouns, gay relationship, gay marriage, two daddies being happy, Shanks is an over-the-top father and husband, Luffy is your son's name, Shanks calls himself Daddy and calls you Papa (revenge against fan fiction with the reader being called Mama) Nausea due to pregnancy, Shanks is a very worried father and husband

꒰ WC ꒱ : 676

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : I've been on a roller coaster these last few weeks and I had decided to post on Saturday thanks to Bibi, but I almost changed my mind, I decided to be strong and post even though I was feeling like shit. I'm kind of excited but also extremely unsure about entering the world of imagines male, well we'll see how it goes

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And just like the last few nights you were abruptly woken from your not-so-peaceful sleep by the incredible need to throw up all your dinner. Your body was sweaty and hot even though you were sleeping wearing just a huge shirt from Shanks — one that he bought the wrong size and it was big even on him so it was huge on you — and your kitten print underwear that you got from a joke of Shanks in a Christmas prank.

The bedroom window was open, now with a mosquito screen since your husband was paranoid about you being bitten by an insect and dying since your pregnancy announcement, and you took advantage of the light breeze to sit on the bed and calm down a little to see if the nausea went away. There was a humidifier running, the curtains swayed slightly, and there was a child's light in the room that Shanks had bought in fear of you tripping when you got up in the dark and hurting yourself.

Sometimes you questioned whether Shanks knew that you weren't that fragile just because you were pregnant, after all you were proud of all your strength and masculine muscles... But you wouldn't deny that his extra care calmed your heart a lot. The bed was also huge, the redhead wanted to buy a bigger one after reading news about parents crushing their children for sleeping together in small beds, of course there was no point in explaining to him that this was sensational news since before you could argue he had already ordered it and paid for the new furniture.

A kick in the stomach and your dinner turning around as it climbed up your throat made you stop remembering how careful your sleeping husband was, you quickly got out of the soft covers and ran to the bedroom's bathroom. You quickly knelt on the rug in front of the toilet and it wasn't long before you were vomiting again, you loved your baby and you loved being pregnant, but you would also love to stop vomiting everything you tried to swallow.

“huh, he woke up early today” Shanks yawned as he awkwardly entered the bathroom, luckily the room was big enough for both of you.

“I shouldn’t have had dinner” you mumbled nauseously as you rested your head on the cold part of the white ceramic.

“You always say that but you always have dinner… Honestly you haven't stopped eating since you got pregnant” Shanks laughed and sat next to you, taking a towel from the cupboard and slowly wiping your face.

“It’s not me… It’s Luffy… He’s hungry like you” you teased Shanks.

“Of course… Hungry like his daddy and hyperactive like his papa” Shanks responded to the provocation and you knew he was right. If your unborn child was hungry because of the redhead, then he was also hyperactive because of you. Since, as everyone always said, you had extreme difficulty sitting around doing nothing, always looking for something to do and have fun.

“The perfect combination” you laughed tiredly as you felt the nausea slowly going away.

“Completely perfect… But look, this kid will find himself with me when he's born, making my husband vomit everything I cook for him” Shanks snorted, pretending to be irritated “He's thinking that money falls on trees so I can spend it on food and he can make you put it out?!”

You laughed but soon felt some light kicks in your stomach that made you both gasp.

“I think that was Lu telling you to go all out and he’s going to kick your old ass” you laughed, rubbing your stomach affectionately.

“Brat… Stubborn like his papa” the redhead laughed and gave you a wink “Okay, let's get you off the ground and put you in front of the window… And get you a glass of water too” the man smiled as he stood up ready to help you.

Maybe pregnancy wouldn't be so terrible if you had a husband who was so worried about you…

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[drdemonprince]

i recently started hooking up with a cis gay man and last night he let slip a gap in his knowledge that makes me think he does not actually know shit or fuck about how vaginas work (gently tried to say that i wasn’t cleaning properly and i had to inform him it’s not healthy to douche vaginas and that pussy is supposed to have a flavor; it’s entirely possible he still thinks pee comes from the vagina). You always have good reading recommendations so do know of any good resources specifically for giving a cis gay man a crash course in boypussy?

There's definitely zines out there about fucking trans men, but tbh I find them super alienating and I don't think they would be helpful in this instance because the dude is lacking vagina 101 knowledge, not really trans guy specific knowledge. You might disagree with me but I think it's kind of on him to take a step back and google shit that basic. I think all you have a responsibility to do is to laugh off the dumbest shit he says and see if he puts the effort in, because it's really as simple as him like asking a cis woman bestie or opening up a cosmopolitan from like 2005.

I was hooking up with this gay couple for several months and the first time we hooked up, the more masc guy of the couple had no fuckin idea how to angle penetration. it's like he thought my vagina was a slot on the front of my body lol. but by the second time we connected a month later, he had it figured out. it helped that his femboy partner had fucked cis girls before.

i kind of liked that the two of them truly saw me as a cis guy who just happened to have this slightly mystifying fun hole to play with; the masc guy asked me at what age i knew i was gay and we traded adolescent coming-out stories and there was never any wrinkle of them thinking of my experience having been different or that i hadn't thought of myself as a gay man even back then. it allowed me to really feel coherent and validated in a way i never had been before. all of which is to say i think it can be nice sometimes when a cis gay comes at you with a """gay""" perspective rather than a """"trans""" one, because that means they get the whole of you socially and relationally even if it means they have to google what squirting is at some point or whatever.

but it's cool if you see it differently. if anybody does have resources theyve found helpful feel free to put them in the notes.