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pathologicalreid · 4 months ago

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home run | s.r.

in which Spencer and jareau!reader finally get the opportunity to take the next step in their relationship

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: sex bro idk. the sweatshirt. smut with a lot of plot, glasses!spencer, dostoyevsky, paulo coelho, ur crazy if you think i proofread this, flirrrrrrting, protected p in v sex, fingering, heavy petting, post coital dysphoria (why can't i let them simply have a nice time) word count: 4.01k a/n: next on my quest to give fanfic readers realistic sex to read, i give you this! as always, tell me how u feel, my inbox is always open.

“Will you unzip me?” You asked softly, pulling your hair out of the way and turning your back to Spencer, who paused his own disrobing to undo the zipper of your dress.

It’d been a long day, the light hours spent in the BAU, and the evening spent at Rossi’s, who wanted to get at least one more cookout in before the weather turned. You’d finally reached the end of your day, and for the first time, you were spending it with Spencer.

Facing away from him still, you let the fabric drop to the floor, taking your sweatshirt from your go bag and tugging it over your head. Spencer hummed from behind you, “I can’t believe you still wear that.”

A small smile formed on your face as you turned around. “It’s comfortable,” you justified, the old FBI Academy sweatshirt had previously lived in Spencer’s apartment, but you’d claimed it for yourself nearly two years ago. It had the perfect amount of wear, making it one of your favorites—among other reasons.

You tried not to let your eyes linger while Spencer changed, instead focusing on details in his room that you’d never seen before and making note of what books he kept on his nightstand. “It’s old,” Spencer responds plainly, putting on an old MIT t-shirt and reaching out for you, grabbing your waist and pulling you close.

Before being with Spencer, you wouldn’t have considered yourself the kind of person to take things slowly, but with him, that was the only option you were willing to consider. You were so scared of things being ruined with him that you only made moves when you knew you were absolutely ready. Maybe that was why it took you nearly two years before the two of you started dating, but he was willing to walk the tightrope with you.

You walked around the bed, sitting up on the mattress and watching him go into the bathroom, “So, what do you want to do tonight?” He asked from the bathroom, coming back out with his glasses on and leaning against the doorframe.

Humming, you look over at him, “Didn’t think that far ahead?” A teasing lilt carried through your question, cocking your head as he made his way over to you. He’d asked you on Monday if you’d like to spend Friday night at his place, and he had seemed surprised when you accepted his offer.

“I have a few ideas, but I wanted to see if there was something specific you had in mind. Since you’ve already interrupted your usual schedule to stay here, I wanted to give you a choice,” he rambled. He always rambled when he was nervous.

You raised your eyebrows curiously, “Spence?”

With him standing in front of you, you studied his eyes. His contacts had a blue tint to them, so seeing him in his glasses was really your only opportunity to see his eyes as they truly appeared. “Yeah, baby?”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, “We don’t have to do anything special. What would you be doing if I weren’t here?”

“Reading,” he told you unabashedly.

Honestly, you should’ve guessed that. “Okay, then we can read. Do you have a book I can borrow?”

Spencer nodded, “You’re welcome to anything, but are you sure? We could find a movie to watch instead.”

“We don’t have to do anything special just because it’s our first night together, and besides, reading side by side sounds nice,” you told him, waving off his concerns about entertainment and walking into the living room, scanning over his extensive collection. Plucking one off the shelves, you return to Spencer, watching him pull the covers down on the bed, preparing both yours and his side.

You set your book on the nightstand and climbed up on the mattress, his box spring causing it to be almost precariously high. “The Alchemist?” He questioned, reading the title of the book that you had selected.

Tracing the title with your fingertip, you shrugged, “I’ve never read it. Should I pick a different book?”

He shook his head in response, “No, and I don’t want to influence your opinion with mine.”

“Well, what are you reading?” You peered over to look at the book in his hands, reading the cover, “How many times have you read that book?” Since you started dating four months ago, he’d read Crime and Punishment at least three times.

Flipping the book back open, Spencer went back to the pages, “I’ve never read this version before, the editor decided to publish his thoughts along with the translated text.”

You raised your eyebrows curiously, “And what are your thoughts on that?”

“I think his translation of the original Russian is perfectly adequate, but his comments read like a high schooler who was forced to read the book for a class,” he explained, his hand absentmindedly resting on your bare thigh once you settled into the bed.

Humming, you opened your book, reading the foreword and trying to ignore Spencer’s hand placement. There was no reason to lose your mind over a little thigh touching.

Once you made it to the beginning of the actual story, you became vaguely aware of Spencer’s thumb rubbing small circles on the inside of your thigh, leading to you closing the book and setting it back on the bookshelf. Taking a deep breath, you rolled onto your side, leaving Spencer to move his hand from your skin, and you rested your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at him, watching his lips move as he read the words on the page, you felt very lucky to have this part of Spencer. The Spencer who let his glasses slide to the very bottom of his nose and had an affinity for reruns of cartoons from the eighties. “Are you alright?” He whispered once he finished his chapter, reaching an arm up to ruffle your hair affectionately.

“Mhm,” you murmured, “Don’t feel like reading.”

Gently, Spencer craned his head to drop a featherlight kiss to the tip of your nose, eliciting a small smile from you. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said softly.

As odd as it seemed, you liked watching him read, at the very least, it was impressive to watch. You kept your eyes on him, watching how intently he focused on the book despite having read it several times before.

He looked back down at you, catching you staring, “Can I kiss you?”

The question took you by surprise, but you nodded in response, looking at him as he ducked his head down and pecked your lips. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, putting his free hand in front of his mouth as he went back to reading.

In his defense, his resolve lasted for one more chapter, turning the page before snapping the book shut and resting it on his nightstand. Spencer turned his head to yours again, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you responded, unsure about where he was headed with this. Opening your mouth to ask him a question only to be met with his lips on yours, he took his time now, resting a hand on the side of your neck, the pad of his thumb at the hinge of your jaw as he held you close.

Tentatively, he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, and that single motion drew a small moan from the back of your throat, causing you to pull away from Spencer.

Your eyes were wide in surprise, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

Spencer shook his head, pulling at your waist, “C’mere,” he said, encouraging you to straddle him, your knees on either side of his hips, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, leaning forward and resting your hands on his chest, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “This is okay,” you whispered against his lips.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t made out before, it was usually just on the couch, or in Spencer’s reading chair, or one time when you were the only two on the jet. This—making out in his bed—it felt different somehow.

Coming back up for air, you looked up at Spencer, a giggle escaping your throat as you tried to meet his eyes. “Oops,” you said, his glasses had fogged up while you were kissing, so you leaned back while he took them off, resting them on his nightstand.

Spencer rested his hands on your hips, his thumbs gently massaging over your hip bones as you studied his expression, “Honey,” he said, suddenly serious, “I want you to know that I didn’t invite you to spend the night with this in mine.”

He was drawing the same conclusions as you, but still, you looked at him doubtfully, “Do you mean to tell me that the prospect of sex didn’t even cross your mind when it came to inviting me to spend the night?”

A soft pink bloomed across his cheeks, you found yourself wanting to kiss them, “Okay, maybe it occurred to me that we might find ourselves in this position.”

You straightened up slightly, “So, I trust you have a condom.”

Nodding, Spencer reached a hand up and smoothed your hair back with the kind of tenderness that made you want to cry. “I do, but we don’t have to have sex tonight, okay?”

“But I want to,” you responded, maybe a tad too quickly. Your face warms, “I mean… I’d like to. If you want to.” With an air of finality, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, one of your hands found a home in his hair while the other rested on his collarbone.

As if on cue, the phone started to ring. An incessant blare designed to wake you up in case you were being called in in the middle of the night. Spencer chuckled as you dramatically dragged yourself off of his lap and dug through your bag for your phone.

If it were Penelope or Hotch, you’d answer without a second thought, but the caller ID showed your sister on the other line. You declined the call, texting her an excuse before leaving your phone on the nightstand.

Spencer dragged his fingertips down your arm, “Who was it?”

“JJ,” you told him leaning back over his torso and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I’ll call her back later,” you continued, kissing the other corner of his mouth.

He hummed in response, settling his hands on your waist, “Tomorrow?” He proposed, gently guiding your back to the bed.

Nodding, you looked up at him, “Tomorrow,” you confirmed, sighing contently as your legs fell open, giving him the room he needed to rest his body between them. You’d never felt so at ease in bed with someone, no one had ever touched you so carefully before.

“Good,” he whispered against your lips, gently parting them with his own as you looped your arms over his shoulders, “Hold on,” he said, pulling back and climbing off of the bed.

Your eyes followed him intently as he stopped in front of his go bag, unzipping the side pouch and pulling out a familiar-looking box. “You’ve been keeping condoms in your go bag?” Your question is succeeded by a fit of giggles, any nervousness disappearing at the realization that Spencer’s been carrying contraception with him all day.

Rolling his eyes, Spencer lobbed the box at you, but you were still laughing too hard to be bothered by the lightweight box hitting your arm. “Excuse me for wanting to be prepared,” he teased back, climbing up on the bed and finding a spot right next to you.

“No, you’re right,” you said, continuing to giggle despite your best attempts to stop. “Okay, I’m sorry, let me put on my serious face,” you pressed your lips together in a thin line, holding them together with your teeth as you tried to stop any giggles from escaping. “You would make a great boy scout,” you told him, failing to keep a straight face.

Sighing, Spencer kissed your smiling lips, giving you a soft peck between every word he said.

“You’re.”

Kiss.

“So.”

Kiss.

“Cute.”

By the final kiss, you’re ready to ascend into the heavens. Knowing you can die happy because you’ve known what it’s like to love him. You’re not even worried about the fact that he chose to call you cute as opposed to hot or sexy. Spencer’s never let you consider the idea of being someone other than who you are.

“I love you,” you whispered, looking at him as he positioned himself between your legs again, taking your lower lip between your teeth because this time you could feel his length. Even through three layers of fabric, his hardness pressed against your core in a way that made your head spin.

Spencer hummed, “I love you too.” His tone was careful as his hands slipped up your sweatshirt, a totem to show where the two of you started and where you are now. His fingers wandered over your skin, an exploration of your body as the hem of the sweatshirt started riding up your waist, “your heart is racing.”

You sat up, trying to encourage him to take your sweater off, “You have that effect on me.” You took a deep breath as he followed your cue and pulled your sweatshirt over your head, once he tossed it to the hamper, you pushed at his t-shirt, whipping it off his body without a care in the world.

He was just looking at you, just studying you in the way someone would look at a piece of art. Feeling encouraged, you reached back to unclasp your bra, letting the fabric fall off of your chest before dropping it just off the side of the bed. “Pretty,” he breathed, leaning forward to kiss you again, his lips making their way along your jawline, along the column of your throat, and just below your collarbones. “Pretty, pretty girl,” he murmured, rendered uncharacteristically at a loss for words at the sight of you topless.

You gasped as his lips attached themselves to your chest, sucking at the soft skin and leaving little love bites behind. He moved his hand to gain better balance, leaving one at the side of your head, “Ow, Spence,” you yelped.

Spencer’s head snapped up, “Are you okay?” He asked, more fear in his voice than was strictly necessary for the issue.

“Your hand is on my hair,” you said, moving your hair behind your head when he instantly moved his hand.

He dropped a kiss to your forehead, oddly domestic for the state of undress you were in, “I’m sorry, honey.”

You shook your head, “It’s okay, c’mere,” you whispered, placing your hand on the back of his head and guiding his lips to yours. Slowly, you extend your free arm between your bodies, slipping your hand between the elastic of his briefs and his stomach, wrapping your hand around his shaft.

He moaned into your mouth at the contact, his lips faltering against yours as you ran your thumb over the tip, gathered his precum on your finger, and withdrew your hand, bringing your hand up to your separated mouths and sucking the liquid off of your thumb. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he groaned, reattaching his lips to your neck, bringing his lips further down your chest until he took your nipple in his mouth, nipping at it gently with his teeth while his fingers wandered up to play with your other breast, massaging the flesh.

“Oh,” you breathed, looking up at the ceiling fan and trying to stop your hips from bucking up as his mouth separated from your breast with a wet pop, his hand skimming down your torso and stopping just above the hem of your underwear, looking to you for permission before he exposed your core.

Slowly, he hooked his fingers in the sides of your panties and dragged them down your legs, leaving them on the mattress for you to find easily as he pushed your knees apart. His hand made its way to your pussy, fingers dragging lazily up and down your slit, “Is this okay?”

Nodding, “Yeah,” you answered, bracing yourself for the intrusion of his fingers, but you were surprised when it didn’t come yet. Instead, his index finger pressed gently against your clit, softly rubbing at the bundle of nerves, trying to prepare you. A soft whine escaped your lips at the sight, “Will you kiss me?” You asked, your eyes wide and pleading with him.

Obliging your wishes, he left his hand in its place while he pressed his lips against yours, you slid your tongue into his mouth, running the tip of it along his bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth as he played with your clit, need growing in your core as his fingers moved.

“Ah,” you gasped against his mouth when he slipped a finger into your hole, separating your lips while you tipped your head back against the pillows. “Oh, wow,” you breathed at the feeling of him knuckle-deep in you, his finger remaining still while you adjusted to the intrusion.

Spencer hummed, bringing his head back down and resting it on your tummy while he curled his fingers in your cunt. You brought your hands down to rest on his head, tugging at his hair while he started to thrust his finger in and out of you, wet squelching sounds emanating from your core as he did.

A moan was ripped from your throat when he added another finger to the mix, stretching your pussy even further while you felt your walls contract around his hand. “Spence,” you breathed, moaning again at the sensations that were coursing through your body, “Spence, baby.”

He tore his eyes away, looking up at you while his hand slowed slightly—just in case, “What do you need, honey?”

Honey. The sweet pet name plucked at your heartstrings as you propped yourself up on your elbows, “I’m— Can we...?” You started, not sure how to proposition him. Can we have sex? Seemed like too little too late. Will you make love to me? Made you want to throw up in your mouth a little bit. “Will you fuck me?” Was what you settled on, albeit a bit crude, but it was your best option at the time.

He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, eliciting a whimper from you at the emptiness, he reached over for the box of condoms that he had previously thrown at you, handing the box to you so he could shed his boxer briefs.

Staring at the way his cock stood at attention, you considered wrapping your mouth around him, just for a moment, but Spencer didn’t seem interested in anything other than doing what you’d asked of him. Instead, you reached out your hand and wrapped your fingers around the base. He was already plenty hard, but you felt the need to reciprocate pleasure, which is why you were surprised when he moved your hand before you could even start.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you, and you nodded a response, telling yourself you’d remember to return the favor in the future. Maybe in the morning.

Handing him a lavender packet, you watched as he carefully tore the package open, pinching the tip and rolling the condom over himself. “Is this good?” You asked, lying on your back as you watched him settle back between your legs, your breath hitched as his cock lined up with your entrance.

Spencer nodded, “You’re perfect. I’ll go slow, okay?” He rubbed at your thigh comfortingly, waiting for you to give him another okay before he started pushing into you. Between your wetness and the added lubrication of the condom, he slid in with little resistance, but he took it slowly, just like he had promised.

He watched you the whole time with the knowledge that you hadn’t had sex in years, the last thing he’d want to do was cause you any pain.

Once he was fully sheathed in you, you buried your face in his neck, pressing little kisses to his soft skin as you focused on anything other than the pressure in your core.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, he didn’t even have to ask you for the reassurance. “I’m— fuck,” you cried out, unable to help the way your walls tightened around his cock. “You can move,” you told him, your voice muffled against his neck.

He inhaled sharply as he pulled his hips from yours before slowly pressing them back together, “I love you.”

You nodded, “I love you too,” you murmured, muffling your moans in his neck as a courtesy to his neighbors, unable to control them as his tentative thrusts turned into a steady rhythm. Carefully thrusting into you while he moved one of his hands up, intertwining your fingers with his at the side of your head—minding his hand placement.

Hooking your ankles together behind his back, you squeezed his hand at the same time as your cunt clenched around his length. He continued fucking into you, pushing your legs open even further until he hit a spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Spence,” you cried out, trying to warn him about your impending orgasm before it washed over you. Your walls uncontrollably clenched around him as you fully muffled yourself against him, soft squeaks escaping your mouth as he kept going, the pulsating of your pussy driving him even closer to his own orgasm.

His hips stuttered in their movements as you pulled your face from his neck, breathing the cool air as Spencer spilled his cum into the condom. His head drooped, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone as the both of you caught your breath. “I’m gonna pull out,” he warned you, carefully slipping his softened cock from your hole.

A slight panic came over you as you felt tears well up in your eyes faster than you could process them, hiccupping for air as they fell down into your hairline.

That got Spencer’s attention, lifting himself and looking at you, “Hey,” his voice was so soft, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Bordering on babbling, you shook your head, “No, I’m fine,” you cried, more tears falling from your face. “I don’t even know why ‘m crying,” you told him, resting a hand on your chest.

“Shh, hey,” Spencer cooed, “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” Gingerly, he laid down on his back and pulled you into him, letting you rest your head on his chest as he smoothed your hair back comfortingly. “There are just a lot of emotions going through you right now, and that’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe with me.”

You nodded slowly, “I’m sorry,” you whimpered, having ruined a perfect first time by bursting into tears immediately after.

Spencer pressed a tentative kiss to your hairline, “It’s okay, there’s no need to be sorry. It’s completely normal,” he murmured, one hand in your hair and the other rubbing circles on your back. “You’re alright. Hey, it’s called post-coital dysphoria, and it happens to about forty-six percent of people,” he told you.

Despite yourself, you gave a breathy laugh, “I feel like you’re making that up so I’ll feel better.” You sniffled, wiping at your eyes with your fingers.

“It’s a real thing, I promise,” he reassured you, continuing to comfort you until tears stopped falling. “Hey, what do you say we get cleaned up and we can watch something in bed.”

You hummed in response, “You don’t like screens in your room, you say it messes with your REM sleep.”

“It does mess with your REM sleep, but I’d be willing to make an exception for you tonight,” he said, smiling softly when you lifted your head from his chest. “Come on, honey. I’ve got you.”

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thehypnone · 6 months ago

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Ain't No Hope In Hell

WC: 3k

Relationship: Zephyr/Rain

Tags: Disabled Characters, POTS Rain, Fainting, Semi-Public Bathroom Sex, Transmasc Rain, Non-Binary AFAB Zephyr, Cunnilingus, Minor Gender Dysphoria, Tail Sex

T4T Zephyr and Rain fuck in a disabled mall bathroom after the water ghoul has a fainting spell. That's literally it.

Notes: Commission for @everybodyshusband!!! Also tagging @ominousposting because we talked about these two deserving such action a while ago :3

Read under the cut or on AO3.

The bond that Rain and Zephyr share confuses many. They don’t spend much time together and when they do it’s either to sit in silence for hours or fuck viciously for just as long.

Sometimes one follows the other.

Still, despite it seeming so shallow and even toxic to outsiders, the two ghouls need each other. They understand each other in a way that no other ghoul ever could. Their relationship is in their hearts, minds and souls, not so much in anything that’s on the surface.

And like this, Zephyr and Rain love each other fiercely.

One of the things neither of them would ever be accused of enjoying that they do enjoy when together, is going out. Not to clubs, bars or anything like that; what they like is simple dates like going shopping or to the cinema.

Today they decided to take a train that leaves every hour from a station a few minutes away from the Abbey and go to a mall. They didn’t have any big shopping plans, just mindless browsing, so to speak. If something would catch either of their eyes they’d get it and be pleased, but they’d be as content to leave with empty hands, only having spent that time together. They can also get some food in there, maybe dessert, too—that’s the thing Zephyr and Rain love about malls; there’s everything there.

Well, maybe they are not very fond of the amount of humans they inevitably encounter every time, but that can be overlooked.

And they are having a great day, indeed, until Rain starts feeling unwell.

“Zeph? Think I’m gonna have a spell,” he mutters, blinking hard as his head sways on his neck. The air ghoul reaches out to grab his wrist and turns it to see his watch. His pulse is going one hundred and fifty beats per minute. “Can we go find a bathroom?”

It definitely isn’t anything more dangerous than his usual episodes, so they should be fine without professional medical assistance, but it needs to be taken care of nonetheless.

“Yeah, of course,” Zephyr says, “it should be just around the corner, are you gonna make it or do you want to switch aids?”

“I–I’ll make it,” the water ghoul breathes shallowly, leaning heavier on his crutch, “just gonna go slow behind you.”

“Alright, puddle. Alright, let’s go.” Zephyr grabs their wheels and rolls on slowly, looking over their shoulder every five seconds to make sure Rain isn’t doing worse. The walk lasts both a second and an eternity, but finally the big accessible bathroom’s door latches behind them and Zephyr only has a second to throw their leather jacket on the floor (of questionable cleanliness) before Rain slides down the wall and passes out.

The air ghoul does not worry, he’ll wake up in a few moments, as always. In the meantime they watch as the other’s glamor slowly slips and rummage through his backpack for a salty snack and some water.

Soon enough Rain opens his eyes.

“There you are, puddle,” Zephyr chuckles. “Was starting to grow bored.”

“Sure you were,” the water ghoul groans, sitting up slowly. “How long was I out?”

“Whole…” they check their watch in a theatrical manner, “two minutes.”

“Hm.” Rain makes grabby hands when he sees the air ghoul holding his replenishment set ready and they can’t help but shake their head at how adorable he is while still so out of it. He’ll feel better once he munches on a few nuts from his obscenely salty mix, though.

“You think you can get up already?”

“Why?”

“I want you off that nasty floor,” Zephyr scoffs, “and in my lap, preferably.”

Rain rolls his eyes but gets to work on standing up. Thankfully this bathroom actually is accessible—unlike many fakely advertised ones—and there’s a lot of things he can hold on to to stand. It works, albeit the water ghoul still gets dizzy and there’s black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He grabs Zephyr’s hand in the dark and flops down onto their lap. “C’mere, puddle.”

“That is more comfortable,” he sighs, leaning back against the air ghoul’s chest. They place a little kiss on Rain’s neck, just under the gills that escaped his glamor when he was out cold. A pleasant shiver runs down Rain’s spine at the gentle touch and his fins ruffle. “Gimme more, Zeph.”

“Greedy,” they hum but oblige nonetheless, putting their mouth over the water ghoul’s gills and kissing them softly. Rain groans and lets Zephyr appreciate their neck for a little while longer before he can’t take it anymore; he needs their lips on his. He tangles his fingers in the air ghoul’s hair and pulls them away from his neck and up, to kiss him. He slams their lips together and they both moan into it, getting more desperate with every second. They only part to catch a breath.

“Have we ever defiled a disabled mall bathroom before?” Rain asks, panting, as he leans down and rubs his nose up and down Zephyr’s neck, breathing in their fresh summer scent.

“I do not believe that we have,” they answer as they continue to grope the pretty water ghoul in their lap.

He hums thoughtfully, “Do you reckon it is time to do so?”

“Absolutely I do,” Zephyr breathes before tangling their fingers in Rain’s hair and pulling him up to seal their lips in a kiss even more heated than before. Their teeth clank together and they both try to shove their tongue down the other’s throat in a battle for dominance. Even though it’s obvious who is—and is going to stay—in charge. It’s always Zephyr; the only one for whom Rain always subs.

The next time they need to pull away to breathe, Rain notices something on the wall.

“Why was I laying passed out on this filthy floor when there’s a perfect bench right there?” Rain scoffs and throws his hands up dramatically; the princess that he is. There really is a perfect bench right there; albeit a foldable and rather unobvious one.

“You were already going down,” Zephyr shrugs. It is the truth, there was no time, but the truth is also that they didn’t notice it earlier, either. “You know I like to see it.”

“Oh, do you now?” Rain scoffs at the air ghoul’s poor joke. Or a flirting attempt.

“How could I not?” they seem dedicated to making him blush impossibly more, now. “Who wouldn’t like to see a pretty water ghoul between their legs, hm?”

“Are you attempting to make an offer, you old tit?” said water ghoul laughs. Both ghouls are well aware of how the half-affectionate, half-insulting nickname sounds without context and even though it does not get much better with it, the situation improves slightly when one is aware that it originally came from the bird tit and the facts that Zephyr’s feathers in their fully unglamored form are a similar color to that of a tit. The fact that it’s a rather loaded homonym just adds comicality that both Zephyr and Rain love.

“Depends,” the older ghoul shrugs. “Are we in a rush?”

“Not at all. It’s hours until the last train back home leaves.”

“Well, then…Do you want to go down?” Zephyr winks.

“If I can kneel on your jacket.”

“Such a princess, aren’t you? I’ve got a better idea.” Zephyr lightly shoves Rain off of their lap before getting up from their wheelchair and walking over to the bench. They unfold it, look it over and press on it to see if it’s reliable for…more than sitting. It’s rather high, but that will only make the air ghoul’s idea work even better.

“Hop on, puddle,” they pat it in invitation, “today’s my turn to get my mouth on that pretty cunt of yours.”

Rain can’t stop blushing even hotter at that, but he follows the other’s command. As he situates himself on the edge of the bench, Zephyr returns to their wheelchair. They bring it as close to the bench as possible, sit back down and lock the brakes so they don’t just roll away mid eating Rain out.

“As much as I wish I had that skill, I don’t think I can fuck you with my tongue through your jeans,” they tease with a wink, patting his thighs.

“Oh, shut it,” Rain grumbles but does indeed start to fumble with his pants. He drops them down to his ankles but Zephyr tuts and shakes their head. “What?”

“I want my head between your legs, puddle,” they purr, “I need full access.”

Once again the water ghoul mutters something unintelligible under his breath, as if in protest, and yet still obeys Zephyr's every word.

His pants are all but ripped off and thrown across the bathroom to land in the sink—hopefully dry—and the air ghoul wastes no more time. They grab Rain’s thighs, spread them and lean in to nuzzle their cheek against his soft skin. The water ghoul’s lower legs end up hooked over Zephyr’s shoulders and their feet on the back of their chair. A rather solid position, if not for the bench under his ass. His back and hips will hate him for it later, no doubt.

Zephyr throws him one more look before descending onto his cunt and licking a fat stripe up his folds. As always, what they start with is a way to indulge themself more than the other—they love having delicate, wet skin under their tongue. They also love seeing how easy it breaks, but that’s for another time.

The water ghoul instinctively puts one of his hands on Zephyr’s head, digging his fingers into their scalp and pulling on their white as snow hair. They groan against his cunt, but not in protest. Lucifer only knows they grew their hair out just to get it pulled more and, oh, does Rain deliver every time. His tail wraps around Zephyr’s arm when they grip his hip.

Zephyr licks between his folds, up and down to flick the tip of their tongue against his clit and then goes back down to tease around his hole. They prod at it and Rain thinks they’re about to really lick into him when a wave of unpleasantness hits him. He curls in on himself slightly.

“Zeph, wait, uh–” Rain breathes out, tightening the hold he’s got on Zephyr’s hair. They pull away immediately.

“What’s wrong, puddle?” they ask with concern in their voice.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong, just…” he bites his lip, “don’t put it in today. Please?”

“Yeah, of course,” the air ghoul smiles at him knowingly, with deep understanding. They’ve been there. “I’ll suck your pretty cock instead, what do you say?”

Rain only lets out a rather undignified grunt as a response as he throws his head back against the wall.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Zephyr smirks and dives back down to take the water ghoul’s t-dick into their mouth. They start out light; swirling their tongue around it and petting it gently with the appendage. Rain is already so lost in it he can only whine and whimper; thankfully the bathroom is all solid walls, or else someone would definitely be calling in an emergency.

He’s pulling on Zephyr’s hair harder and harder with every lick over his cock, losing his mind even more when the air ghoul really starts doing what they’ve promised; sucking him off. Rain all but wails the first time Zephyr hollows their cheeks and sucks at his sensitive t-dick. It’s maddening.

At some point Zephyr grunts and takes one of their hands off of Rain’s thighs to move it down and fumble with their zipper, desperate for some kind of stimulation themself. They manage to open their pants, wiggle a hand inside and rub their own wet cunt. Rain only notices when the air ghoul’s moan vibrates through him.

“Zeph–” he pants, “Zeph, lemme–”

The water ghoul can’t really articulate what he wants, overwhelmed with pleasure. He unwinds his tail from Zephyr’s other arm and shoves it down their pants along with their hand.

“Oh,” they moan as they pull away from Rain’s cunt. They squeeze their eyes and rest their head against the water ghoul’s thighs, breathing heavily as he rubs their clit with the tip of his tail.

“Good?”

“Yeah, get it–puddle, get it in deep,” Zephyr begs and their shaky voice makes Rain whimper.

He obliges—once he collects himself enough to focus—and pushes his tail further down their pants. He finds the air ghoul’s slick hole and pushes in, slowly sliding his tail deeper and deeper until he all but runs out of it.

“Fuck…” they swear under their breath and follow it with a whine and it’s like a song. Zephyr returns to sucking Rain’s dick as if they want to slurp his soul out right through it and the water ghoul himself does his very best to stay focused enough to be able to fuck the other steadily with his tail.

There’s no rhythm to it, but neither of them cares; it’s all a blur of moans and whines and groans as they pleasure each other the way they know the other likes best. That’s the thing about them; they just know things, understand each other like nobody else.

Rain’s eyes cross when the air ghoul trails their wet tongue down, past his cunt to lick at his taint and tease his ass. Just for a moment, to make Rain soaking wet all around; they don’t go further, but Rain moans as they’re taking him apart piece by piece anyway. If Zephyr had access to the base of his tail, too, it’d all be over in seconds. Alas, their position makes it impossible.

There’s something about the softness of the skin in some places that makes Zephyr lose their mind. Another rather peculiar thing about them.

The air ghoul drags a smooth fang up the inside of Rain’s thigh—both a threat and a promise, but only for when they’re back home. They’re both wrecked and the fact that they’re in public escapes their horny minds entirely, it’s the instinct that keeps Zephyr in check.

“Do that…your tail, the–that thing you do…” they groan and even though it’s not much information, Rain knows exactly what to do.

“Lean back, need–need space.” He pulls his tail out of the air ghoul’s cunt and twists it tightly around itself, only leaving the spade out on the bottom. When he slides it back into Zephyr, it’s like a perfectly textured thick dildo with an attachment to stimulate their clit. Rain presses the flat tip of his tail against it and the air ghoul folds in on themself in pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s good,” they moan and start rolling their hips slightly, riding Rain’s tail as much as possible as they return to the task at hand; the delicious, soaking wet water ghoul cunt right in front of their face. And making it even wetter.

It won’t take much more and they both know it; it’s just a minute after Zephyr puts their mouth on Rain’s cock that he cries out a warning, “Close…”

“Uh-huh,” Zephyr hums in acknowledgement and nods slightly. The water ghoul can only assume it means they are nearing their climax, too. Still, the air ghoul is focused solely on Rain and making him cum his brains out. They double down their efforts and the noises falling from rain’s lips gain in volume.

“Yes, yes, yes–I’m–c–cumming, Zeph, oh,” he moans—the loudest and most wrecked of them all—and the air ghoul can feel slick gushing out of him to drip down their chin and onto the godforsaken bench. Rain’s entire body goes rigid as waves of his orgasm wash over him; including his tail. The makeshift dildo becomes impossibly thicker inside them and Zephyr groans in a nearly pained manner as they’re thrown over the edge, too.

Rain sags forward, falling face first into Zephyr’s chest as they lean back in their wheelchair. The both of them breathe heavily for a longer while, slowly coming down from their highs.

“I hate you, you old tit,” the water ghoul murmurs at some point, making Zephyr laugh.

“I love you, too, puddle,” they reply with a grin, patting his back.

Once they deem themselves composed enough again, they get up to clean the mess that they’ve made of each other. Putting both their glamors back in place and adjusting their clothes and hair so as to not scream with their looks about what they’ve been up to in that bathroom, they get ready to go.

“I don’t even want to know for how long we’ve been blocking this bathroom,” Rain grunts, a little disappointed in himself.

“Don’t worry, puddle,” Zephyr reaches out to pat his hip reassuringly, “it’s not a busy day and I’ve seen another one not so far from here, I’m sure we didn’t cause anyone inconvenience.”

The water ghoul hums in acknowledgement and finally unlocks the door again. To his great relief there isn’t anyone waiting. They leave the bathroom and decide to visit one more shop that was on their agenda; Rain feels alright now and one more won’t hurt anyone. After that they check potential trains that could take them back to the Abbey and start making their way to the station.

“We should have a list,” Zephyr proposes at some point.

“Of what?” Rain asks, genuinely curious.

“Places we defiled,” the older ghoul clarifies and Rain snorts out a laugh, “and places we have yet to defile.”

“I’m down,” he giggles under his breath, “but only if we write it down on a piece of paper that I can hang on the fridge in the den.”

“You got it, puddle,” Zephyr grins. “My requirement is that we put Primo’s closet at the very top of the been there, done that part.”

“Ah…” Rain sighs dreamily, “that was a glorious time, indeed, dear Zephyr.”

“Absolutely it was, dear Rain,” the air ghoul agrees. “Whose next, Terzo or Copia’s?”

“Secondo’s. Let’s go chronologically.”

“I love your brain, puddle.”

#scheduled #hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #rain ghoul #zephyr ghoul #hypnone's disabled ghouls #hypnone's commissions

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skyahri · 9 months ago

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Remember Part Two |SatoSugu X Reader| HC

Part One - Part Three Masterlist Ko-fi

Summary: It's hard bouncing back twelve years.

Warnings: none? Pretty fluffy.

- - - - -

You pat around the bed, but can't seem to find what you're looking for. You push yourself up onto your hands, your waist awkwardly trapped in Satoru's tight hold.

You look around, still weary about, well, everything that's gone on. The jet lag-like dysphoria combined with the surrealism of the situation is muddling your mind.

You're still in Geto's room, that much is obvious based on his dark sheets and clean desk, but there's no Geto.

"Suguru?"

You can't feel his residuals anywhere. You try to settle your worries by reminding yourself that he often suppressed his cursed energy, that the ball hadn't started rolling yet, but the pit in your stomach was persistent.

Before you can panic any more, he's sliding his door open and closed behind him. You let out a breath and forced your way out of Satoru's grip. You hear him whine, but don't pay much mind to him.

You sit on the edge of the bed and rub your hand over your face. It's easier to calm down now than it was last night, the initial shock having worn off and the lack of exhaustion make things much easier to process.

"You can't just leave, Suguru."

"I was just," he paused, "Nevermind. I'm sorry."

He takes a seat next to you and you rest your head on his shoulder.

It's silent, but not uncomfortable. You can feel him trying to pick you apart with his eyes, wanting information but not wanting to ask. You chose to let him wonder and just basque in his presence. It's warm, almost like a hug.

You eventually convince yourself to get up from his bed and start your day. Gojo complains, something about you getting up means he has to as well. You can no longer be used as an excuse to lounge around all day.

It's difficult to get back into the groove of your old life. You're quickly realizing how much a person can change when given enough time.

Your hair is longer than you'd recently kept it and your ears hadn't been pierced yet. Seeing a face you didn't recognize as your own in the mirror was a trip in and of itself. Second puberty is a very real thing, the lack of adult maturity in your features being proof of it.

You haven't used a single product in your bathroom in over a decade. Satoru had long replaced your cheap body care products with an expensive perfume and matching lotions. There was no trinket dish holding your prized jewelry, solely because you just hadn't been gifted any of it yet. Your closet was severely dated, only containing uniforms and outfits you had outgrown years ago.

None of this stuff mattered in the grand scheme of things. Everything would eventually fall into place, and you'd have all of these things back, but that didn't stop it from hurting. They're just objects, but most of them held much more significant meaning. Milestones, holidays, memories with people you care for. It's sad not to have the visual reminder.

You make your way through the halls of Jujutsu High, acknowledging the faces of all your old classmates. Once you get past the eerie presence of a select few you haven't seen since their untimely deaths, it's refreshing. As of right now, there's no war or depression. Nothing stopping you from actively enjoying the present time with your friends.

That is, except for the expiration date practically stamped on their foreheads.

You head through a myriad of hallways and tunnels that eventually lead to an elevator. You know you shouldn't be down here, Yaga would surely have your head, but you don't really see any other options.

You're surprised when you easily pass through the barrier. He was most likely expecting your company. Word travels fast, especially when it involves everyone assuming their battle position at three in the morning.

His base is creepy, to say the least. The vibe is ominous, almost like you're entering certain death. You're certain that this is a stupid idea, but your feet keep moving nonetheless, and soon your eye to eye with the one person who can protect the future.

"Tengen."

"Oh? I hope this doesn't have anything to do with my upcoming assimilation, does it?"

"You don't even know the half of it."

- - - - -

After your impromptu meeting with Tengen, you decided not to bother with the rest of your classes. Instead, you made a trip off campus for some essentials.

The errand is short, just a stop at the nearest bookstore for some new journals and the convenience store for a more... indulgent treat. It isn't long before you're back in the confines of your bedroom.

There's writing supplies strewn across your desk, your feet awkwardly forced onto the narrow cushion of your seat as you uncomfortably hunched over. The ashtray to your left is packed full of butts, the pack halfway gone as you've chain smoked through the whole ordeal.

You always hated the task of actually writing out the events of your dreams. It's tedious and requires an ungodly amount of focus to remember every detail. It's been damn near four hours, and you're only three years into the endeavor. Granted, all of the more relevant things happen in that time, making it drag out a bit more in word form, but that's besides the point.

You're so entranced in the activity, you don't even notice Geto slide open your door. He walks up behind you, resting both hands on your shoulders and startling you out of your daze. You swiftly close the notebook and relax into his touch, reveling in the way he digs his thumbs into your sore shoulders.

"Never thought I'd catch you smoking after all the grief you give us."

"I needed to unwind," you pause, glancing at the half empty pack, "I suppose I did get a bit carried away, though."

It's quiet while he continues his ministrations. You take one last drag of your cigarette before snuffing it out in the tray. You relax, allowing your body to melt into a less chaotic position in your chair.

You're having a hard time recalling the specific relationship dynamics you once held with the people around you in high school.

As time went on, you found comfort in Gojo's advances. He was a rock in an otherwise changing environment, even after Geto's defection. He had left a hole in everyone's hearts, and no matter how much you tried to move past it, there was always that lingering darkness. Having Satoru and not Suguru was like having the moon and not the sun, and it stunted both of you for years to come.

Your future relationships and mature understandings of life were blurring your memories of the current ones. Had you and Gojo romanticized the past version of Geto? Was the way you're feeling right now just a symptom of that? Or was there always something there?

"What are you thinking about?"

You shrug. You don't really feel like lying right now, so it's better to just not say anything.

"I came in here to ask if you'd like to go to Splendid Sushi with us? Satoru's treat of course."

You tilt your head back to peer up at him. You touch his hand and strain your arm so you can drag your fingers up his arm, finally finding a place to rest on his bicep.

He looks new. There are no bags under his eyes and he still has that sparkle of hope. It finally sinks in that this is your Suguru. The guy who argues about morals with Satoru and dreams about protecting the weak. It's a warm feeling, one that gives you the strength to venture forward.

"I have to keep working, Sugu. You guys go on without me."

"How about you come with us, and I'll keep you company afterwards."

You hum, feigning contemplation for a moment before dramatically sighing and agreeing to his proposal.

You forgot how good it felt to be worry free. To sit in a restaurant with your three favorite people, talking about nonsense and just enjoying the night. Eating a sickening amount of sushi and being loud enough to bother other patrons.

But your thoughts started to drift to the one thing you'd been trying to avoid; your kids.

When Megumi and Tsumiki were younger, family dinners weren't an issue. You could easily wrangle everyone in and play peacekeeper long enough to have a nice meal. But kids eventually become teens and things became a little harder to manage with the newfound angst. Then Tsumiki got sick and it felt wrong to enjoy the weekly gatherings altogether.

In all honesty, neither had ever really needed you, but you'd like to think they enjoyed having you and Satoru as some kind of pseudo-parents. Megumi has always been independent and Tsumiki has always been a fighter, but they're little right now, about three and four years old, probably fending for themselves while Toji and his girlfriend are off doing God knows what.

You've completely tuned out the others' conversation about, what even was it? Animals they could take in a fight? They're talking amongst themselves while you begin to worry about their place in your future.

Would Satoru still seek them out? With Geto around, will he feel the need to raise two kids? And what about the two girls Geto saves from that village? Should you intervene in the town beforehand, or set things up so he still takes them? Is there even a way to do so without igniting that anti-monkey flame?

You rub your hand down your face as the onset of headache approaches. Only a half-hour into dinner and you've already managed to ruin it for yourself.

You quietly excuse yourself from the table and exit the building. You hear them whisper amongst themselves before Shoko jogs to catch up with you outside. She leans against the side wall with you, surprised when you hand her one of two lit cigarettes between your lips.

"You good?"

You don't answer at first. What are you supposed to tell her? That you miss the teenagers you raised after having a hand in killing their dad?

"Just stressed."

"Feel like sharing?"

"Wish I could. You have no idea."

Shoko has always been your favorite confidant. She's well-rounded and more predictable than Gojo, even now. You sigh, tilting your head back and forth in thought with a groan.

"I'm having trouble adjusting."

"Don't you always?"

"Not like this. I've never seen so far forward before. I feel like I'm in a haze."

"It'll fade. It always does, just gotta give it time, y'know?"

You jab the filter against the bricks and toss it in the trash, Shoko following suit. Despite it being a very dry conversation, you do feel a bit better. Maybe just forcing yourself into a more familiar place within the group was helping.

You make your way back to the table, sitting beside Satoru this time and allowing him to pull you into his side with an arm around your shoulder. He leans his head down so he can whisper in your ear.

"You're too pretty to be worrying so much. Try and relax, alright?"

The next second he's laughing, joking with Suguru about how easy it is to piss off Nanami and arguing with Shoko about who gets to open the prize capsule.

You smile, thankful for the wonderful distraction that is your friends. You pull the bit out of Shoko's hand and call dibs. They pout, but don't fight you. You pop it open and pull out a Badtz-Maru keychain. You can't help but be reminded of Megumi, its black spikey top and sour expression are damn near uncanny.

Satoru uses the arm around your shoulder to pluck the prize out of your hand.

"Awe, I was hoping for Hello Kitty."

You take it back and shove it in your pocket.

"Good thing it's not yours then, huh?"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #satosugu x reader #satoru gojo #suguru geto #geto suguru #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #geto x reader #gojou satoru x reader #getou suguru x reader #gojo x geto #satosugu

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sparrows-stars · 1 month ago

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🙏🙏🙏 i would do anything for a trans guy sebastian x trans guy reader fic if that is something you'd be interested in writing. they are impossible to find 🫶 either smut or fluff would be awesome

YAYYY MORE TRANSMASC REQUESTS!!!! ftm!reader fics are SOOO hard to find i feel you anon </3 i would LOVE to write this!!!

ftm!sebastian x ftm!reader - ice skating (sfw, fluff)

warnings/tws: reader has pretty bad dysphoria, aside from that nothing <3

word count: 1,326 (whoops)

to put it bluntly, wintertime was boring on the farm.

there were no crops to tend to and all your animals stayed in their barns and coops. with this being your first year in the valley, you didn’t really know anybody well enough to hang out just yet. and to top it all off on this lonely, cold, boring day, you couldn’t help the raging dysphoria you were feeling as you dragged yourself out of bed.

once you moved to the valley, the days that dysphoria gripped you lessened. this meant, however, that when you had bad dysphoria days, they were bad dysphoria days, and unfortunately today was one of those days.

as you dressed yourself, you felt like no matter how many layers of clothes you put on, you always looked feminine somehow. after you settled on some baggier clothes, you decided to just take a stroll around the valley to try and forget what you were currently dealing with. you knew that if you didn’t leave the house today, you wouldn’t be leaving your bed for days on end.

the crisp, cool air of the valley hit you as you stepped outside. “whoever invented gloves, scarves, and winter hats needs some good head,” you muttered to yourself as you closed your door.

it was quiet in pelican town, you observed. not surprising, as it was cold out. you enjoyed the comforting silence as you ventured towards the mountain lake. the snow crunched beneath your feet as you trudged up the hill, and you found yourself entranced with the way the snow glistened around you. you only stopped looking at the ground when you noticed another pair of feet in front of yours. you looked up to see sebastian standing there.

“oh, sorry,” you muttered, cringing at how high your voice sounded. “didn’t see you there.”

“it’s alright, i was coming over to check on you,” he said. “you’ve kind of just been standing there for a few minutes.”

you blushed. “oh... uh. sorry? i was just admiring the snow. i know it’s dumb.”

he shook his head. “it’s not dumb. i take these views for granted. plus,” he smiled, “sometimes it’s the simple things that can make a day better.”

you furrowed your eyebrows. “how’d you know i wasn’t having a great day...?”

“well, for starters, you don’t usually walk around with your head down,” he explained. “you usually walk with confidence, if that makes any sense.”

you nodded. “well, i won’t bother you any longer. i was just taking a stroll while it’s still quiet out.”

“you aren’t bothering me at all. i was actually going to stop by today to ask you something.”

you tilted your head. “oh?”

he scratched his neck sheepishly. “...give me a second.”

he turned around and ran inside, leaving you standing there awkwardly. while you waited, you admired the frozen lake and how beautiful the scenery was. you heard the front door open shortly after, and you saw sebastian walking towards you with something behind his back, his face slightly flushed. “i imagined this as being more romantic, so i apologize,” he started. “would you like to go on a date with me?” he offered you the flowers he was holding behind his back.

your face broke out into a grin. “seb, i would love to. where exactly are we going to go, though? there’s not much to do here.”

he smiled as you took the flowers. “i was thinking we could go ice skating, if you’re down for that.”

you nodded. “where am i gonna get ice skates from, though?”

“well,” he started, “abigail has some that she ordered a long time ago that she has literally never touched. would you wanna try those on? i already asked her if that was okay, so don’t worry about that.”

you smiled. “i’d love to.”

-----------------

after you and seb got the ice skates from abigail, you walked back to the mountain, hand in hand. you couldn’t help but notice how perfectly his hand felt in yours. once you got to the lake, you stopped him. “can i tell you something?”

he nodded.

“i’ve never ice skated before...”

“that’s okay, i’ll guide you,” he smiled. “just trust me.”

you two got onto the ice after putting the skates on, him holding on to your waist as you tried to stabilize yourself. any time you wobbled, his grip tightened. “i’ve got you,” he said.

“you know, holding onto my waist like that is making me more prone to falling, seb,” you blushed. “you’re making me nervous.”

“and what if i told you that was the plan? that i want you to fall for me, both literally and figuratively?”

you covered your face as you grinned. “shut up, oh my god.”

the two of you continued to flirt and skate until the sun began to set. he helped you take your skates off and put your shoes back on and then proceeded to walk you home.

once you got home, it started snowing heavily outside. you brought sebastian in and insisted that he stay the night, because it was literally impossible to see outside. he agreed and called his mom to let her know that he was safe. once he was done talking to her, he approached you as you cooked dinner.

“hey, um, would it be alright if i go to bed right after i eat? i just realized how tired i am from skating,” he grinned sleepily. you nodded, handing him a bowl of pumpkin soup. his grin only widened seeing the dish you made. “how’d you know this was my favorite?”

you blushed. “oh, i just assumed you liked it. you’ve mentioned it before at the saloon... i totally wasn’t eavesdropping on you and sam’s conversation.”

he chuckled. “hey, i’m gonna take my binder off before i eat. i’ll be right back.”

you had no idea that he was trans, and you had honestly forgotten you were wearing a binder. it suddenly felt too restricting, which was a signal to you that you needed to take it off soon.

seb came back into the kitchen wearing a baggy hoodie – one of yours – and smiled at you. “thank you for making me dinner. i really appreciate this.”

you nodded at him. “i also need to go take my binder off, i’ll come eat with you when i’m done.”you darted off to your room, dreading taking the binder off. you didn’t want today to get ruined because of dysphoria, but oh well. as you took it off, you felt that weight fall back onto your shoulders, all your emotions hitting you at once. you crumpled to the ground, holding your chest to your legs.

you heard a knock on the bedroom door. “are you okay...?” sebastian asked.

“i’m fine,” you choked out, knowing that he wasn’t buying it.

“you don’t look trans,” he said, catching you off guard. “i thought you were cis.”

it took you a second to gather yourself, but once you did you responded to him. “i could say the same for you. i had no clue you were trans. you pass so well.”

“i know that you don’t see it, but you do look masculine. you sound masculine. you aren’t just playing dress up, you’re a man.”

his words brought tears to your eyes, and you chuckled as you began to put a baggy sweater on. “you don’t have to lie.” you opened the door to a concerned sebastian. “i’m not lying,” he said. “i know that you’re a man.”

he brought you in for a hug, rubbing your back. “let’s eat dinner and go to bed, yeah? i know how dysphoria can be.” you nodded into his shirt, thankful for him being here. the two of you ate rather quickly, washing up and headed to the bedroom. you settled into bed together, and you finally felt comfortable enough to not only sleep, but rest.

#sdv sebastian #sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian x farmer #farmer sdv #stardew valley #ftm!sebastian #ftm!reader #ftm reader #fluff #sdv fluff

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sweetspidergirl · 8 months ago

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A Tangled Web (Spider HRT Story)

Chapter 1

“This is stupid. Why am I doing this?”

This question echoed in my head as I sat in the sterile waiting room of the doctor's office, accompanied by the sound of the clock ticking away in the background. Besides me and the receptionist behind the counter, there was no one else in the room. That made sense. With it being a few days before Christmas, who would willingly want to spend any amount of that time in such a depressing location?

A twenty-five year old woman dissatisfied with her life and seeking a new one, apparently.

As I sat there waiting for permission to see the doctor, my mind drifted back to how I got here. It was half a year ago where I first vented frustration over my life to my best friend Elisa, and she mentioned how I might be going through species dysphoria. She then sent me some articles and links and suggested I look into humanity removal therapy, or HRT.

I had been vaguely aware of humanity removal therapy, often referred to as therian HRT, for a few months by that point. It functioned mostly like hormone replacement therapy, only it would gradually change the patient into a human/animal hybrid, or therian. It was a recent development, only having been available to the public for a little over five years, and still had quite a bit of controversy associated with it from various political groups. Despite that, based on the testimonials I read and the various pictures I saw, the people who have gone through therian HRT seemed to be happier now than they ever had as humans. Maybe it would be worth it if I gave the whole thing a shot. Maybe being in another body might help me be happy again.

I glanced down at the blank screen of my phone, looking over myself in annoyance. I noted the long, messy brown hair that I barely made look presentable. I noted the pale skin caused by a lack of social interaction and preferring the light of a screen over the sun. I noted the oval-shaped glasses and casual hoodie and sweatpants that hid as much of me as possible. I was another drop of water in the ocean that was humanity. Even my blue eyes, once bright and full of hope, had started to appear dim and non-descript as of late.

“Taylor Thompson?”

I snapped out of my thoughts as the doctor called my name. Turning my head in his direction, I got a good look at the man who would be deciding my future. He was an older gentleman, probably in his 50s or 60s, with a grey receding hairline and mustache. His thick, round glasses made it hard for me to see his eyes. Grabbing my belongings, I quietly followed the doctor as he guided me to his office. The office was what I expected to see: a small, plain white room with a desk, degrees on the wall, and bookshelves full of books that I would be too dumb to properly understand. On the desk was a small nameplate that read “Dr. T. H. Erian, Species Dysphoria Specialist” in large, clean letters. I set my bag beside me and took my seat, my heart beating like a drum in my chest. I swallowed the lump of anxiety that was forming in my throat. There was no turning back now.

“So, Miss Thompson, what brings you here today?” Dr. Erian asked in a stern voice. One sentence in and I was already having flashbacks to my high school principal. The main difference here, however, was that my answers actually mattered for more than avoiding detention.

“I, um, was hoping to be prescribed therian HRT. Specifically spider HRT.” I answered, trying to remain calm and collected.

“I see… and why a spider, if I may ask?” The doctor questioned as he began writing something on a piece of paper in front of him.

“Well, I think spiders are a lot like me. Most people are scared of them, but in reality they’re mostly just nervous, adorable little beans.” I explained with a bit of blush on my face.

“Any preferred species of spiders?”

“I was hoping to be a tarantula. They're cute and fluffy, and I think I'd look just as good as one.”

“May I ask why you wish to undergo humanity removal therapy?”

I took a deep breath and exhaled. “I've been unhappy with myself lately. My diet's been awful, I rarely go outside and interact, and in general I just hate everything about myself. My best friend, Elisa Andrews, thinks I might be going through species dysphoria. She works with therians and otherkin daily, so I assume she's right.” I explained to Dr. Erian. I then handed him a folder that contained the paperwork Elisa told me I'd need before being prescribed therian HRT: a medical examination, two psychological evaluations, written support from her and my father. I even spiced the folder up with doodles of webs and cartoon spiders in hopes that it would help my case.

Dr. Erian looked through the paperwork I gave him. I was unable to get a good idea of what he was thinking. His flat, emotionless voice was hard to read, and thanks to those glasses I couldn't tell whether he was impressed by work or annoyed at me wasting his time. I was hoping it was the former.

“Miss Thompson, before we continue, I'd like to ask an important question.” Dr. Erian spoke as he set the folder down in front of him on the desk. “How much do you know about therians?”

“How much do I know?” I asked curiously. “I mean, my best friend’s a physical therapist that works with therians, and I'm kinda aware of some of the legislature that's been passed recently-”

“That's not what I am referring to.” Dr. Erian interrupted. “I want to know if you understand what therians go through, what the process of going through humanity removal therapy is like and how you'll have to adapt. You are aware that I recommend patients spend some time living as their desired species before I prescribe them HRT, correct?”

“I-I mean… if it helps I have a few spider plushies.” I said sheepishly. I could already feel my luck running out.

Dr. Erian sighed and gently rubbed at his forehead before speaking again. “Miss Thompson, this is a serious life-changing procedure. Once you start therian HRT, your DNA will be rewritten to match your chosen species. You'll never be human again, even if you stop early into your therapy. I cannot prescribe it to just anyone who steps foot into my office.”

I sunk into my seat slightly, bringing my knees just under my chin as I almost curled up to feel safe and protected. “B-but… I was told you can help people with this kind of stuff.”

“I can, and I do. However, not everyone needs HRT. What you may think is species dysphoria could very well just be depression, and what you may need is something far simpler than a complete genetic rewrite.” The doctor explained.

I sat there in silence, barely listening to the doctor's words. He was saying so much when it all boiled down to one word: “no.” No, I couldn't get humanity removal treatment. No, I couldn't have happiness. No, I was doomed to hate myself for the rest of my miserable life. Tears started to creep their way out of my eyes, stinging slightly as they worked their way down my cheeks.

Just as I was about ready to give up and head home, I glanced up and noticed Dr. Erian looking through my papers once more. I was expecting him to scold me again. I hid my face against my knees and closed my eyes, bracing myself for his harsh words to wound my heart further.

“...are you sure becoming a tarantula will make you happy?”

I slowly brought my eyes up to look at Dr. Erian, not fully emerging from my self-made cocoon as I processed his question. What was making him change his mind? Did he believe that I'm suffering from species dysphoria after all, or was he simply taking pity on me? Regardless of the answer, I couldn't let this opportunity slip by my fingers.

“Y-yes… yes it will, doctor.” I responded, almost forcing myself to do so. A tense silence hung in the air for what felt like hours as Dr. Erian stared at me, almost examining me. I gripped the sides of my legs, waiting anxiously for either him to continue lecturing me or for me to have the courage to speak again.

“Well, if that is your answer, then I will approve you for tarantula HRT.” Dr. Erian said, writing on the piece of paper some more. “Considering it's the holiday season, it's likely your pharmacy won't receive your first dosage until after the new year, though.”

My heart almost skipped a beat at the news. I was… actually going to be a tarantula?! “Wait, really? You're… approving me for the HRT?” I asked, nearly jumping out of my seat. “Oh thank you Doc! Thank you very, very much!”

Dr. Erian sighed, writing some more information down on the paper. “As I explained, transitioning to a different species won't be easy. There will be some side effects to expect as your body changes.” He explained, making sure I had calmed down a bit before he continued. “Not all therians will experience the same side effects. Not all side effects will be present at once. Some will show up at different stages of your transition. At the earliest stages of spider HRT, I would primarily expect to see itchy skin as your hair grows in, as well as weight gain to provide material for your additional body parts to develop. Beyond that, you may experience headaches, nausea, dizziness, fatigue, and possible body pain.”

After making sure I understood the side effects I might encounter during my transition, Dr. Erian started digging through a drawer in his desk, and from there pulled out two items. The first was a pamphlet that had “Welcome to your Humanity Removal Therapy” written on the cover, alongside “Species: Spider” and a minimalist illustration of him. “This pamphlet will help guide you through your transition, Miss Thompson. It provides details on a recommended meal plan, the type of environment you should live in, a rough timeline of what changes you should expect and when you should expect them, a full list of potential side effects, and more.” The doctor explained. “I would make sure to give this a thorough read if I were you. I'll also be sending you a digital copy after our meeting. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me and I will provide an answer at the earliest convenience.”

I took the pamphlet in my hands, almost crushing it in excitement. “Of course Doc. I'll definitely give it a read once I get home.”

Just as I was about to get up and leave, Dr. Erian cleared his throat. “There is one other thing I must discuss with you before we conclude here, Miss Thompson.” He said, causing me to sit back down in my seat. “I still disapprove of you not doing any research on therian culture prior to our meeting. So… I'd like for you to interact with other therians while you're taking HRT. It's not mandatory, but I do feel it will not only help you learn about your new lifestyle but also potentially help with your mood.”

As Dr. Erian said that, he handed another item. I took it in my hands and looked it over. Instead of another pamphlet, it was a flyer detailing a therian support group that was close to where I lived. It detailed that it was bi-weekly, and that it was open to those on HRT, regardless of stage, as well as those questioning.

“I'll keep that all in mind. Thank you so much for all of this, Doc.” I said, stuffing the papers in my bag. After discussing insurance and other important information to get my prescription set in stone, I left the office and gave a heavy exhale as soon as I was outside. That was probably the most stressful talk I've ever had, but it was done and over with. While I stood outside and caught my breath, my phone started buzzing. Pulling it out, I saw that I was getting a call from Elisa.

“So, how'd it go?” Elisa asked, sounding exceedingly curious. Looking at the time on my phone, I hadn't realized she had just finished with work by the time I finished my meeting.

“Well, I managed to get the prescription, so that's good. You didn't tell me he was gonna be so scary though.” I answered back with a tiny bit of irritation in my voice.

“Hey I never met the guy personally. Besides, you still got the HRT in the end, so it all worked out.” Elisa answered back. “So how long before you start spinning webs and crawling up walls?”

“Well, my first dosage won't arrive until after the new year. Beyond that, well…” I trailed off a bit, glancing back at my bag and the papers inside of it. “I have some homework to do.”

---

Welcome everyone! This is the start of a (hopefully) long-term project I intend to work on. This is the story of Taylor Thompson, a 25-year-old woman seeking a change in life through humanity removal therapy. In the process of transitioning from human to spider, she'll learn more about the world of therians, as well as learn more about herself and what she wants out of life.

I want to thank @ayviedoesthings, @welldrawnfish, @entroart, @bubbleverseart, @nyxisart, @prettiestplatypus, @deadeyedfae, @kaylasartwork, and anyone else I may have forgotten (there's a lot of people I'm so sorry ><) for creating the world of therian HRT and creating such a community, as well as my fiancé for showing them to me and for inspiring me to give my own version a try. I can't say when the second chapter will be done, so just keep your eyes open, and I hope you all will join me on this long, wild ride.

Thank you so much in advance.

#furry hrt #therian #otherkin #spider hrt #furry #transformation #fantasy hrt

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post-maester · 3 months ago

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I had a fucking wonderful conversation with a Director who is a trans woman today.

I originally responded to an ad of hers looking for a transfem video editor for a documentary about trans people, but I was several months late. I specifically responded knowing I may not get the gig, but I wanted to work with her on this project that I felt was so important. It was important to me as a person developing a career in film, it was important to me as a trans girl hoping to engage and give to a community I want to be a part of, it was important that a project get made that could help people like me figure out what the fuck is going on with their identities.

So I waited for a response. Eventually one came. We set up a meeting for this afternoon, and the conversation we had was euphoric. I was so anxious and in my own head about the whole thing, but when it came time to talk, I felt like I was unapologetically myself while talking to her. I didn't need to mask, or change how I behaved for her. I just was. It felt wonderful. I've never had that with another person before, I think.

We talked about film work, trans experience, and MOTHERFUCKING TTRPGs!!!!!!!!! She called me "girl" in conversation and that was butterflies in my tummy. When I mentioned I was only 3 months on HRT she unashamedly and excitedly exclaimed that my chest was going to start hurting soon, and that lack of timidity about the subject was so fucking refreshing.

She mentioned how she enjoyed taking on the role of teaching younger trans people and being motherly. I added that my friends say that I'm the same way, but that I don't really have someone to be that way for me. It was a strange feeling to realize mid-conversation that I may need something like that at all. I never felt like I wanted a motherly force in my life, but maybe as I find myself in femininity that's something I need. My husband can only do so much to help me, and he's not exactly the posterchild for this sort of thing.

Nearing the end of our conversation, she told me to keep in touch and ask any questions if I need. But then she mentioned that we could go to get our nails done together sometime soon (I'd mentioned my experience with hand/nail dysphoria from a few days ago). I shut down. I stared at my screen through to her silently for a moment. I then stuttered, trying to answer. She asked if I was okay and if she overstepped any boundaries. I admitted that I needed a moment to restart my brain. Then I explained that I don't have any feminine friends to do "girl stuff" with. I've never been able to before. The idea excited me beyond belief. I said yes emphatically. I almost started crying a little, to be completely honest.

We said goodbye, and I closed the call.

Im doing a little tiny cry now, I feel so fucking good. I feel so proud of myself for trying for this and sticking with it. Proud of myself for not canceling because of my anxiety. Proud of myself for allowing me to be me unapologetically with absolutely no fabrication for the pleasure or comfort of another person.

Writing this now in bed. No other plans until later tonight. That call took a lot of my energy. Time to rest.

Night night💜

#trans woman #transfem #transgender #trans hrt #transblr #lgbtqia #how to be a girl?#mtf trans #film #film industry #producer #ashmom #inspiring

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everybodyshusband · 11 months ago

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deus in absentia ; chapter two

[previously known as: you're so goddamn frail]

rain/swiss (the band ghost)

explicit | m/m | 6.6k words (12.5k overall) | HURT/COMFORT, coming out, crying (so much crying), making up, pet names, so much LOVE, supportive as fuck swiss, anxiety, unreliable narrator rain

—the world's biggest thank you's are in order for @spoiledleaff who helped with a few sections that were giving me grief months and months ago and to @ghoultrifle who beta'd this whole chapter and has been far more enthusiastic about this whole thing than i ever expected anyone to be <3 and if we could all pretend that this chapter hasn't taken me over a year to write and publish that'd be GREAT ksnksjfdf i hope you all enjoy the fic as much as i've enjoyed writing it !!!

snippet and ao3 link under the cut !!

As time went on and the earth ghoul still hadn’t returned, Rain found that his eyes kept flicking back to the plant mischievously, tempted to pour at least some of his water into the pot, just to see if Mountain would really notice, or if the earth ghoul was just using Rain’s lacking knowledge of earth ghoul magick to his advantage. Unfortunately for Rain’s ever-present sense of mischief, the calmer and at least vaguely rational side of him told him to suck it up and finish the glass; if not to avoid the worsening of his headache, then at least to avoid Mountain’s inevitably disappointed shake of his head. He drained the remaining water in the glass and set it on a side table, more than happy to wait by himself for however long it took Mountain to come back. Before he had the chance to sit with himself for very long however, the sound of running footsteps in the hallway startled him. Excitement sparked in him at the thought that Mountain would be back so soon, along with confusion as to why the earth ghoul would be running to return now that he knew Rain was safe. When he heard a voice call out however, it wasn’t Mountain’s.

“Rain? Baby?”

Rain froze, heart beating as his breath caught in his throat and unshed tears began to sting at the corners of his eyes. Not now. Please not now.

Not when he’d just started to feel better.

“There you are, mi renacuajo.” Rain turned his head towards the door slowly, inhaling sharply at the sight of Swiss standing there, breathing heavily, a relieved smile on his face for having found his love. “I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to find you, Rainy.” Rain could feel his chest heaving faster and with less and less rhythm the more Swiss talked. No matter how hard he tried to control his breathing, his body shook with the force of it and the tears were now threatening to spill down his cheeks.

The second Swiss noticed this however, the smile dropped off his face, immediately replaced by a concerned slant to his mouth and a worried furrow of his eyebrows as he scanned Rain up and down, no doubt taking in the signs of distress. He walked over and crouched on the floor in front of Rain, careful to avoid contact with the water ghoul. “Are you– Are you alright?”

Rain opened his mouth to tell Swiss he was fine, to tell him not to worry, to tell him to go away and leave him alone, but all that came out was a choked sob. Once he started crying again, Rain quickly realised he couldn’t stop himself. It wasn’t the multi ghoul’s fault, it never was, but the sight of Swiss had brought back every single turbulent emotion Rain had been experiencing that day. Despair and dysphoria washed over him knowing that Swiss would, inevitably, say the wrong thing and there was nothing the water ghoul could do about it. This was only followed by waves of worthlessness that took immense delight in reminding Rain that he’d be able to stop these horrible situations if only he could suck it up and tell swiss; if only he could stop being so fucking pathetic. At Mountain’s appearance, Rain had thought the worst of his day was over, but now, with Swiss’ return and remnants of his thoughts from earlier coming back in full force, he wasn’t so sure.

Who was Rain to keep such sensitive information about himself, one of the multi ghoul’s packmates, a secret from him? Who was he to use Swiss as a means of making himself feel worse without his knowledge; to force the multi ghoul to fuck him while neglecting to tell him the full details of Rain’s situation and identity? And who was he to be able to do nothing but cry at the mere sight of Swiss, his friend; his partner? He wasn’t even able to pull himself together enough to pretend he was fine, to relieve Swiss of his worries and reassure him that he’d done nothing wrong. Sathanas, Rain was a fraud. A burden. How dare he let himself break down like this in front of Swiss? All he had to do was smile, hold back the tears, and nod serenely in order to convince the multi ghoul that he was okay.

So why couldn’t he just do that?

[read the rest on ao3 !!]

#husband writes #rain ghoul #transmasc rain :3 #swiss ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #tw dysphoria #tw gender dysphoria #the band ghost fanfic #tw flashing

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velvetvexations · 5 months ago

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But they still use the n-word, anon. They still use the n-word. Yet you think that years and years ago they were so worried about being "challenged" on grounds of transphobia ("transmisogyny" was not in widespread use at the time) that they felt the need to change their language? Even though they still, to this day, use the n-word.

You're an idiot.

And yes, actually, GNC boys who present in a feminine matter does affect things! You can't seriously pretend that every single depiction of an AMAB person wearing women's clothing could only ever possibly be a trans woman or based on trans women. That's not only ahistorical and erases real people right in front of you, but it also gets fucking racist as hell when you start imposing that view on other countries. Did you know, for instance, that "kathoey", the term "ladyboy" is a translation of, is generally used by people who self-identify as men? Because I'm guessing the answer is "no."

Femboys are and have always been a thing, stop fucking erasing them and appropriating their language just because you desperately want the world to revolve around you.

So many young trans girls are going to come out of this traumatized from the dooming, isolated and potentially trapped in abusive relationships because they'd been indoctrinated into the belief that only other trans women will ever love and support them.

The problem is that it has "fab" in there, so they can't do it like they're trying to do with femboy because it inherently points to "TMEs."

(2/2 ana mardoll) i really dont mind when trans women genuinely criticize specific terrible shit that a trans man has actually done, and mardoll has always been a fucking loser who does all the stereotypical negative shit that people tend to act like trans men do. i just wish people would not act like its standard behavior to be like that and judge us all on the basis of the worst of our community lmao. this is behavior that goes both ways tho, trans men judge trans women like this too. idk lol

The person I've seen most accused of being a ringleader was Neon Yang, who was definitely not that even though they contributed. The one I most remember was the trans woman who said something to the effect of "yeah well it didn't sound like the author was trans so I was completely justified actually" and that drives me up a wall because the transradfem girlies are going to lose their mind when I post the first chapter of Nursed with Kerosine.

I have to answer them mostly in batches, with a few exceptions, because I get so many.

@ratbastarddotfuck

Imagine if everyone just decided to start saying a PoC who votes Republican is white.

It's going to be difficult for them to ever actually make a callout post for me because they can screenshot my takes but there will never be a single piece of evidence that I've ever harassed anyone and they know it.

It's not just about taking it seriously, but it's extremely repellent just as content and can be severely triggering, which it would have been for me if I hadn't watched it when I was a teenager before The Deeplore Trauma settled into my bones. I don't think I can even get into the later stuff now because of the association.

But fuck me gently with a chainsaw, everything else about it should be immensely cool and it sucks it's not in something that isn't weighed down by that.

Explicitly using dysphoria as a plot point like that is interesting and does sound like good fuel for a transfem headcanon.

No, it isn't, the only thing being discussed is whether he fits the criteria for "TMA" or not, and he does.

Buffalo Bill is not a stereotype of trans women, and in fact I applaud and deeply appreciate the author for making that crystal clear and treating trans people with great respect and sympathy for the time in which it was written, but he became the model for a stereotype of trans women that transphobes have taken and ran with since the day the the movie came out.

#transandro phobia #trans misogyny #exor sexism #discourse #cw slurs

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wewillbeseen-butnotbeheard · 1 month ago

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i think i want to try summarise my own feelings properly (mainly for myself, if anything). i almost exclusively post about these feelings, so sorry if it’s the same as everything else i’ve posted at any point this might not make much sense when put together, but this is my best attempt at describing it.

under ↓

i have a strong desire to become something other than human. it’s probably been something that i have had my entire life, though i wasn’t able to identify it as that until ~the beginning of 2024. since then it’s only became more intense.

even up until a few months ago, i used to assume it was “purely sexual” and that was that. but i realise that if that was the case, i wouldn’t have been so constantly drawn to it when i was much younger in the way i was.

it would always materialise, in one way or another, especially since ~late 2020 when i started to mature. the whole thing is very important to my sense of self. my identity feels centred around it, almost.

at the beginning of this year i “started” being a furry (please stay with me for this part) though it’s much less of a “hobby” and much more of an identity. it definitely stems from the prospect of sharing a name with those creatures. i would call myself a furry because the anthropomorphic creatures are commonly referred to as “furries” as well and i was more or less calling myself one because if i couldn’t physically BE one, i could at least refer to myself as one internally, even if i didn’t share it with those around me.

it didn’t feel like i woke up and chose it one day. (this is why the label “furry” is slipping off of me now). it took from october-january to accept it, and it was something that was always there. i don’t fit in to furry spaces as much i thought i would, because this isn’t an “interest” to me, this is a very significant part of myself, and i can’t even “just drop it” seeing as i’ve “quit” several times in the past (even recently) and it’s just too intertwined with my sense of self for me to ever imagine being able to throw it away.

to me, it doesn’t mean “being interested in anthropomorphic animals” it means “i would go so excruciatingly far to become one of those animals or anything remotely similar, and i would give it all away in a second to achieve that”. if not “furry”, then what is it?

only recently have i discovered that this isn’t really what most furries are in those spaces for. honestly being a furry for me was very involuntary, and i’m not going to try lie to myself because others will say “that doesn’t make sense!” because that is LITERALLY how it was, and how it still is.

ever since maybe ~june, when i found out about “phantom limbs” tails, etc. i felt a little bitter towards those who claimed they could feel that. considering how much it means to me personally.

at some point i researched into it, and slowly began to learn what a “therian” was. (honestly it kind of bothered me.) i can not stress enough how significant the concept of “becoming something else” is to my sense of self, and seeing something like this felt somewhat insulting at the time

i think my mind perceives it as a “threat” of some kind. for a while i’ve been told/i’ve KNEW it wasn’t possible to be something else. i had to swallow that pill when i was very young and it felt/still feels weird seeing others get genuine joy out of the idea.

a lot of envy, a lot of projection, and a lot of hypocrisy adds up to me lashing out onto others due to it all. i couldn’t count how many times i’ve done it at this point and i can’t guarantee i won’t do it again. (though i hope i won’t)

especially from september-november i struggled a lot with “species dysphoria” but now it’s a lot less straightforward and it’s really a mix of that + confusion and “disbelief” that keeps me down.

since i started this account, i’ve had a lot of supportive messages/asks/etc. (i’m very grateful for that). each time i try lashing out against “this community” i’m met with very underwhelming amounts of hate back at me (yet i have SO MANY kind and supportive words in my inbox). i still don’t think i deserve that, but i appreciate it

i find it hard to approach the prospect of “being a fox”, though i want it and desire that concept (even non physically.) it’s a lens that i can put on my own experiences that makes everything make SENSE. it could serve as the answer for why i have felt the way i have in the past/+ other things. am i? i don’t know. i honestly hope so. its just that the genuinely real concept of it is painful and feels good at the same time.

i often am told “don’t worry, you don’t have to label yourself if you don’t want to” but honestly, these labels are LITERALLY “for me”. i’ve thought that since i heard about it. that isn’t necessarily me saying i’m one. even if i’m not, i still feel that way.

i don’t have “involuntary experiences” other than my own intense yearning to become an animal of some kind and the feelings surrounding that. i don’t find myself doing “animal things”(depending on what you’d define that as) i just LIKE myself much better as a fox and not being one gives way to a lot of negative emotions, especially lately.

i have noticed what almost feels like a growing disconnect from my own physical self since i started thinking about it. my face isn’t my own until i look in the mirror, and even though i don’t “perceive myself” as an animal, i am beginning to feel a lot less like the person that reflects me in the mirror. often times i force myself to glance into it as i pass by.

this was a lot longer than i expected. i don’t know how coherent it is, and i don’t think that’s all of it. but if anyone read all that, i appreciate it. sorry for acting the way i have been recently. i am trying to get better around these topics.

(@zith-ipeth (i know you mentioned something about tagging you so i thought i would here. a lot of my account here is just this + my alt was banned.))

#fox #rant #therian #human #alterhuman #nonhuman #words #long post

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ingydar-phan · 8 months ago

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Happy birthday Dan. I found you at a very, very low point in my life. It’s funny, because that point was only a few months ago. March 3rd. March 3rd. Jesus Christ. I was dealing with severe bullying, depression, hopelessness, isolation, gender dysphoria (i have been out/socially transitioned for like 5 years), and most of all, loneliness. I had a circle of about 3 friends who i talked to regularly, but only 1 i even saw in person more than once per year. Then, two of those 3 people began having relationship issues and were on the verge of breaking up. I felt like i was a bother, a burden to their already existing issues. Every single day I’d walk into school, put my headphones on, and not talk to a single person. I’d read, sleep, listen to music, dissociate, and sleep some more throughout the day just to distract myself from everything. From class, from parents, from the outside, everything. I fully and truly believed everyone besides those 3 people hated me. They found me disgusting, annoying, taking up space, and simply didn’t want me there. I think that is true to an extent, but i don’t like how i was just letting that be how it is. My dad was genuinely hopeless, he told me to just ride it out and if i could try to be just a little bit normal-er, maybe i wouldn’t be ignored by every person every day. That didn’t work. Instead, i decided to do some self work. Or rather, my dad stopped intruding on my free time which allowed me to still be awake and do things i wanted to do in peace. I thought, “Dan and Phil….those two emo guys with the cat whiskers….i have such a vague memory of a friend mentioning them or scrolling across a post of them, who even are they?”. I typed into the YouTube search bar “Dan and Phil”. A gaming channel? Are these people streamers? Oh god (i did not know you were one of us 🏳️‍🌈….or british…..). I watched one video. Now, ACCORDING TO YOUTUBE HISTORY, i somehow watched What Dan And Phil Text Each Other 4 as my first video. Not even the gaming channel, i don’t know how this happened maybe YouTube is lying to me. Whatever. Ok so which ones Dan and which ones Phil? Why do they look SO different? They’re British? I started watching Dan and Phil edits on TikTok. Ok, i know who you are, i get the vibes. Oh, coming out timeline? Gaming channel timeline and hiatus? Reacting to PINOF? On March 13, i watched Basically I’m Gay and Coming Out To You. It took me an entire month from then to watch Why I Quit YouTube. By late April, i was in it. I was watching Dan or Phil every day. Before, during, and/or after school. Since then, I’ve purchased YWGTTN (limited edition signed updated paperback). It was 38 fucking dollars in USD but it was worth it. I also now own TATINOF and DAPGO, one of which is signed by Phil, i bought second hand. So yes, now this is my new thing. But you know what else? I was getting happier. I was going to more concerts. I was doing my schoolwork, or at least trying to. I was reading!!!! I’ve since finished The Secret History. I made a friend; reconnected with an old childhood friend and started eating lunch together and hanging out and having shared trauma dump sessions, and we are so so close now. My two friends broke up, but it’s ok. I’m best friends with one of them and he’s so much better off, and the other and i are still casual friends!! I value them both for the multiple years I’ve known them. I’ve taken family vacations and done religious holidays with genuine care while getting to reconnect with my family. I’ve very passionately finished acting in a musical that I’ve put so much care into for about 5 months. I’m graduating tomorrow!!! And me and my close friend will be going to a concert tomorrow night afterwards, and I’m going to have a great summer where i see my close friend who i haven’t seen IRL since March of 2023. I’m getting closer with my dad and seeing a new therapist. I am having medical problems as of right now, but i would 100% be lying in bed crying and skipping graduation had i not found a reason to enjoy my days.

Did i just take one sentence referencing Dan to write a whole autobiography on tumblr? Yes, but also no. Dan and Phil are real people. They really do rescue pigeons named Steve and getting 10 sauces for their pizza and say hi across the city with binoculars. But they also genuinely have an impact on people, and they see that, and they LIKE to see that. I don’t think Dan will see this post. But I’m making it anyway. For me.

I love Dan so much. I cried twice while watching We’re All Doomed in my kitchen. I have actively watched Dan and Phil videos while crying at school. Once, in my bedroom, i was having a panic attack. I had an overwhelming rush of thoughts around 10 or 11 at night about how worthless i am and how terrible everything was going. I opened my tiktok, and there was THE edit that saved me. It was a video of fetus Dan on YouNow talking about his dream home. And then it was cutting back and forth to the Phouse. Then, Dans hopeful monologue in Basically I’m Gay. Finally, Dans hopeful monologue in We’re All Doomed. All of this in a softly shaky screen with sad music behind it. I cried a lot. This aspect of my life means so much to me. I think about the Halloween 2023 baking video at least 5 times a day (and sister Daniel’s….uhm….legs…). I am still so mad i did not buy the satanic Craft shirts. I just rewatched Dans interview last year with Anthony Padilla just because of how goddamn much I’m obsessed with that angle of Dan with his cute chin and cheeks and fucking dimple. I think about Dans bluntness in his defined-self and truly feel inspired to be like him. I look at his change over the years, his comfortability in his body, seeing that his face and neck are shaped like my face and neck, and he’s fucking beautiful. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable in my weight if not for Dan Howell, and i mean that so insanely sincerely. I read Dans book whenever I’m feeling hopeless and need a soft sexy British man to tell me the scientific reasoning behind why i feel this way and to assure me he’s felt worse. I’m so serious when i say i cannot imagine a day of my life without Dan and Phil. I truly don’t understand how i lived before or how I’d expect to live without it. “Live”, in the sense of find a way of life, not as in “stay alive.” I can’t imagine a day without those big brown boba eyes and that cute dimple and mainly that calming voice that reminds me someone else has felt this way. That reminds me love is possible. That reminds me i have so much ahead of me, so much life and love and joy.

Phil’s birthday stream may be my favorite piece of Dan and Phil media, or at least one of them. I find it so comforting and wholesome and beautiful and hilarious. I have such high hopes for Dans birthday stream. Until then, I’ll be working on my long-awaited (still very very unfinished) 2009!Dan and Phil art piece within my art initiative (pinned on my profile) (just for funsies, no money or anything involved). I’m going to sit there at 3pm (my time) and watch with a huge smile on my face to see my amazing dads spend the time of their lives being sexy and old and happy and disgustingly homosexual while i just embrace all you’ve done for me.

Happy birthday Dan

@danielhowell

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