#it's summer and if i wear a binder I Will Die

[chaotictomtom]

another summer without having top surgery

[azoreaneve]

at least i have the consolation of looking good while crossdressing, even if I suck at arts and crafts :')

[rjalker]

Edit: Can't believe the irony of me having to say this, but I do apparently have to say this: Not wanting boobs and not wanting to be seen as feminine does not mean you are, or want to be seen as masculine. I'm not transmasculine just because I don't want boobs and don't want to be seen as feminine.

You cannot read a post where the point is having boobs does not equal being feminine and go oh! right. Because not wanting boobs equals being masculine! No!! I'm not transmasculine! I'm not trying to look masculine! Kill the gender binary that has a stranglehold on your views of gender!

Stop shoving nonbinary people into a new set of binary boxes!

___

the idea that having boobs gets you automatically and inherently classified as being "female presenting" and "feminine presenting" in so-called progressive circles makes me want to maul people.

I've said this before and I'll just keep repeating it forever: I'm disabled. I can't wear a binder. If I tried I'd dislocate several ribs and that'd be the least of my worries. Like. you know why ribs not being where they're supposed to be is dangerous? Yeah. Yeah. Use your imagination. That's a real thing I have to worry about.

I can't even wear a sports bra that's several sizes """too large""" comfortably.

And yeah, I can use trans tape, but that takes concerted time and effort to put on and take off, and every time you put it on you get different results, and you might just mess it up entirely and waste it, and it can get itchy if you're sweating with it on (and it's 90 degrees almost all the time it's not actively winter here, so that's...literally unavoidable. Even sitting in the living room. Because the electric company charges an arm and a leg for AC during the summer AND won't even give you enough to actually cool your shitty tiny apartment even with all the doors shut and curtains drawn!!!!!), and it's expensive to buy more of.

And especially because this declaration of "feminine presenting" or "female presenting" that gets shoved onto you is not only misgendering you, but placing the blame on you for being misgendered for not looking not-female enough. It's no longer the speaker making incorrect assumptions, they're now literally declaring that this is a concious decision you make. You are choosing to "present" yourself this way...by having a body that you have no control over.

And even when it comes to clothes, the idea that the clothes you wear is another purposeful, conscious Presentation™ of your gender...

Even if we ignore for a moment the fact that being disabled and poor severely limits the clothes you can wear and even just have access to, what about people who literally don't get to choose what their clothes are? Kids whose parents buy their clothes for them, people whose carers choose their outfits for them?

My gender is not "sun-bleached tank top and shorts with a reflective sun hat". That's just what I wear so I don't die of heat stroke every time I set foot outside, and so that my joints are not being painfully constricted every time I move. I literally can't take my hat off outside during the day without developing a headache (or are they fucking migraines? fuck if I know!) within minutes from the sun trying to murder me from my light sensitivity. And it took me years to even realize that it was light sensitivity causing this. I remember in middle school the substitute gym teacher asked if I was a vampire because I moved to the closest shady spot every time we moved to a new area.

And like. Let's be honest. Even if I could safely wear a binder...They're fucking expensive.

It's just really fucking annoying that so many people equate binding with being trans and so many people who are supposed to be allies are just so comfortable labeling other people, who they haven't asked, as "feminine presenting" just because of the presence of boobs. Like we have any choice in the matter. Like having visible boobs just means you're asking to be misgendered.

[nitw]

i havent been wearing my binder for the past week because summer can die actually AND YOU KNOW WHAT? i could get used to just wearing tank tops/sports bras from now on. genuinely idk if i even have a need for binding anymore

[sagan-starstuff]

Secret Santa Gift Exchange Questionnaire

Starting broad, tell your Santa about your relationship to The X-Files. This could be how you got into The X-Files in the first place, what the show means to you, or just general information you think might be relevant for your Santa to know.

My mother was an X-Phile long before I was, she watched from the Pilot on. She was in chat rooms, on alt.tv.xfiles, in fic groups. I was afraid of the theme song at first, so much so that I made her mute it if I was still awake. I started watching in 1997, when I was 11 years old. I don't really remember my first episode - some time during the cancer arc. By the time the summer of 1997 was over, thanks to my mom's recorded episodes on VHS and re-runs on FX, I was fully caught up and 100% a shipper when Redux I premiered, and I've been obsessed ever since. I lived and breathed X-files, accumulated stacks of spiral notebooks full of bad tween fic and drawings, scrawled quotes and logos on the covers of my school binders. I was in chatrooms and on Haven, reading fic on Gossamer waaaaay too young, but everyone there still made me feel like I belonged. I was a weird, lonely tween/teen who had an incredibly hard time relating to my peers thanks to being skipped ahead a grade, but I could pretend Mulder and Scully were my friends. They were the smartest people in the room, they were outcasts, too. If they could be smart and strong, I could, too. The fandom gave me a community when middle school couldn't. I met my best friend in 1999 when she wore an X-Files shirt the first week of high school. I decided to become a doctor because Scully showed me that I could. I watched the way that Mulder and Scully loved each other with their minds and souls, and decided that I would never accept any less for myself.

I feel like I'm rambling, but I cannot understate the influence that The X-Files has had on my life. It was always a comfort for me, even when I was in college and the chatrooms and boards started to go dark. I lost connection with the fandom by the time IWTB came out, but I never loved the show any less. When my husband and I first started dating, I'd invite him over to watch X-Files with me...and we did, for a while, before we got up to other activities. He says I seduced him with The X-Files. It worked!

I reconnected with the fandom in 2023, and I wish so much that I'd known you all were out there this long. Finding other X-Philes, now in their 30's, 40's and beyond, has been such a treasure. As has been finding out that people in their teens and 20's love the show, too! I love seeing younger fans, people who may not even have been ALIVE for a lot of the original run. This is how we survive, how the show lives on.

I wear Mulder and Scully on my skin now. They'll be with me until I die.

2. Tell your Santa about your favorites! Favorite characters, favorite moments, favorite episodes, favorite seasons, favorite ships, etc.

This is so hard! My favorite will always be Scully but I love Mulder endlessly, even when he's an idiot. My favorite side character is Byers, though it's hard separating him from the rest of the Gunmen. My favorite moments...god, so many. But a moment I come back to again and again is Scully facing down the senate committee in Tunguska to protect Mulder. She displays strength, grace, and integrity that I can only aspire too. Every MSR moment is my favorite. My favorite seasons are 4-6, I cannot choose between them.

3. Tell your Santa about your LEAST favorites! We all love our show, but it also sucks sometimes. Which parts suck the most for you?

I hate season 9 - its like the writers forgot who these characters were. Mulder would never leave his new family after a lifetime of trauma from the loss of his old one. Scully would never give William up. Parts of season 8 are ok, though the way Mulder is written after his return is absolute character assassination, and I HAAAAAATE the secret brain disease. I don't even acknowledge it. I don't like IWTB much. I HAAAAAATE the My Struggles. I have...come to terms with the breakup, though I'll never like it. The Revival gave us a few great episodes and amazing moments. The parts of the show I rewatch most are season 1-7. Oh, and I hate Diana, but don't we all?

4. Tell your Santa your favorite tropes and genres! Only one bed? Friends to lovers? 5+1? Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort? You get the idea.

Ohhh I love first kiss/first time, I love love confessions, I love hurt/comfort. I like angst but only if it has a happy or hopeful ending. I looove Only One Bed, or huddling for warmth. I love fluff. I'm not a big AU fan unless it's a fix-it fic (like Mulder not leaving Scully and William, or Scully not giving Will up). I also love slice of life fic, seeing all their lost moments in rental cars and airports just...existing together.

5. Tell your Santa about tropes you tend to avoid.

Major Character Death, SA/Non-Con. I just want Mulder and Scully to be safe and loved.

6. For your Santa, but also just for fun, describe your ideal X-Files episode. Is it mythology? MotW? A literal porno? 

MOTW with an aspect that emotionally affects Mulder or Scully, with some nice MSR and evolution of feelings. I'm also down with a literal porno.

7. Speaking of pornography, tell your Santa what your spice preference is, using the following scale:

Salt only⁠ ⁠— No spice at all please! I.e. General audience rating.

Black pepper ⁠— A hint of spice. I.e. Teen rating.

Chili pepper ⁠— There’s a bit of a kick! I.e. Mature rating.

Habanero ⁠— Definitely spicy, but most spice lovers can handle it. I.e. Explicit rating.

✨Ghost pepper✨ ⁠— Only for the spiciest of spice lovers. I.e. VERY explicit/kink/POANG rating.

I will read anything Salt-Habanero, for Ghost Pepper it depends on the kink. Not into choking, non-consensual anything, nothing involving urine/feces, not a big anal fan, no physical or mental degradation of any kind. No feet.

8. Those are the most important things, but I want there to be ten questions because it’ll look better, so tell your Santa what ONE song you would pick to describe MSR. (Or if you’re not into MSR, pick a song for your favorite ship, or for TXF as a whole.)

The canonical MSR song is Walking After You by the Foo Fighters. Lovers in a Dangerous Time by the Barenaked ladies is also them in a nutshell.

9. Almost there. Pick your favorite TXF quote. 

"Please explain the scientific nature of The Whammy."

10. Aaaaand, ten. And the last question can be open ended: Is there anything else you think is important for your Santa to know? Put it here!

Thank you for being a part of the best fandom on the planet! Please feel free to reach out to me with questions or even just to chat!

[blooming-violets]

Hi! This isn't a request but how do you think Peter would react to reader being a Funeral Director? Let's say it's like a blind date (set up by Auntie May ofc). Im asking because a good amount of your fics that you write with Peter revolve around death- weather it being Ben's, Gwen's, and/or what he see's around just being Spider-Man.

Lol this is coming from someone who's about to get their license to become a f.d if you couldn't tell :)

omg over a decade ago i used to roleplay with an oc who was my dark humored, lil goth queen and she was studying to become a funeral director and even though it was so long ago, once an oc, always an oc. she still lives up in my brain with the rest of every other character i've ever created in my life time. i'm going to channel her energy into my soul for this one

Ok, so! I love this.

(using gender neutral "they/them" for this character)

This might sound slightly gruesome but I'm going with it! May is getting a little older in age. Nothing crazy but she's a realist and she wants to be extra prepared when it's her time to go because she doesn't want to burden Peter with such things. She knows what it's like to go through the entire process of burying a dead loved one when you are in the middle of the worst grief of your life. She doesn't want Peter to have to make any of those choices like where to go and what casket to chose. She's a planner and is going to keep nurturing her boy even after death.

Soo she starts doing the rounds of looking into funeral homes, types of caskets, potential flower arrangements, details for the service, how she wants her body to be prepared...she's got it all figured out and in a binder with laminated pages. And she's having the time of her life doing all this because any chance to pull out some stationary is a good day in her book.

Peter freaks when he finds out because that's his girl and he refuses to let her die ever. But she calms him down by reminding him that death can happen to anyone, at any time, and she wants to be prepared for him. All he will have to do is hand over this binder to the director and they can do the heavy lifting so he can just take time to grieve. He's still not happy about it. Aunt May will never die. He doesn't even want to entertain the idea that it's a possibility even twenty years from now.

But then she throws in a lil twist.

"Oh, by the way, Peter...you have a date next Saturday night. I set you up with the director of the parlor. They were just lovely! So accommodating, so funny, absolutely gorgeous, not anything like I was expecting. I told them I had a nephew who was single. Showed them a picture of you. You know that picture I took last summer of you at the beach eating a Ninja Turtle popsicle next to the ice cream truck? I just love that picture...reminds me of when you were a boy...anyway, they agreed to meet up with you! Isn't that wonderful?"

And he's standing there speechless and mortified because only Aunt May would start prematurely planning for her death and then go around showing embarrassing, shirtless pics of him to his potential suitors...who are also helping her plan for her death. He tries to refuse to go but it's May and you can't say no to her. She will always win.

She picks out his best outfit for him and makes sure he's all dolled up (also to be sure he actually goes through with the date and doesn't bail).

He's shocked at how young and attractive they are when he meets them. Even though May insisted they would be a good match, he still was picturing some creepy old, sickly pale, skeletal man wear a dark suit. He's been dating a bit lately but nothing really sticks. This date feels different. He starts off by making a dark joke about dating the person who's going to bury his (still very much alive) aunt. Which gets a laugh from the both of them. They start in on how lovely it was to meet her and how she brightened up the house when she came for a meeting. And Peter talks about how baffled he was to find out she was even doing all that in the first place. He would have gone with her or been more than willing take care of everything. But they insist that May was adamant on doing it on her own. Peter asks a lot of questions on why they would ever want to go into this line of work but they just laugh it off. They're helping people, even after death. Helping their loved ones have the best final goodbye they can have.

The first date flows smoothly. They both try to avoid the death talk after the first few minutes and keep things light and happy. Peter is unknowingly smitten at the time but finds that once he goes home for the night, he can't stop thinking about them.

A second date is soon to follow. And a third. And fourth. And so on until they are officially dating.

I think as they get more comfortable with each other and open up to each other more, Peter will start to reveal how badly of a relationship he has with death. Reader has a healthy outlook on it. They don't mind taking care of the dead. They enjoy being able to provide that kind of service. Nothing really turns their stomach at this point. Peter can't remember much about his parents or their funerals, Uncle Ben's was a blur, and Gwen's is blackened out from his memory. It really upsets him to picture Reader doing any kind of body preparation. He keeps having intrusive thoughts about them working on Gwen's corpse and it kinda fucks him up. (They obviously weren't the one's who did that but his mind is putting the two people he cares about together without reason). Sometimes it makes it hard for him to look at them. It causes tension in the relationship. He starts to resent that they do that job. He think that they are "better than that" and they should leave that sort of job to someone else. He thinks it's gross and upsetting.

Reader would take massive offense to that. They love what they do. It's very important to them. Peter keeps not being able to hear what they're saying and is throwing his own uncomfortable attitude into the mix. They represent death to him and he hates death. Almost like they're a constant reminder of everyone he loved who has died. Cue the climaxy fight part where they separate for a bit in order for the growth to happen. Peter goes off to sulk and eventually ends up on May's doorsteps like a lost, sad puppy.

He'd need to go have a heart to heart talk with her about why he feels so uncomfortable dating someone who is so close to death. She'd talk about his past traumas, losing so many loved ones, and how he never allowed himself to put those people to rest. That's what Reader does. They helps other's put their loved one's to rest. And that frightens Peter because he's afraid of letting go. They represent someone who is at peace with themselves and Peter is living in a constant state of turmoil. In order to love properly again, he has to let go of the past. Reader can become a healthy path forward but only if Peter is able to cut off the baggage that is holding him back.

He'd let that talk sink in for a few days until he finally crawls his way back to their home with a box of their favorite chocolates (not flowers because they've seen enough flowers to last them their entire life time). He's met with nothing but a gentle smile and open arms. He'd open up to better explain himself to them so they can understand where he's coming from and see into his past. It's a healing moment for him to overcome.

Over time he'd warm up more and more to the idea of them working so closely to death. They both like to lighten any dark moods with some terrible jokes and dumb comments. A lot of silly ghost/ haunting talks. A lot him questing them about things. Like if guys can get an erection after death. Or what exactly is embalming fluid (bc he likes science-y things). And trying to find out the craziest things they ever experienced while working. They have endless stories to share so there's never a dull moment.

And when they finally find out about Mr. Parker and his big, giant Spider-Man secret, they threaten Peter that he better never end up on their table or else they'll mutilate his corpse by cutting off his dick and keeping it in a jar. (too dark? lmao not for them!)

Peter loves it. It makes him feel loved.

[elvisabutler]

let's not let a good thing die

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley x female reader and steve binder x female reader word count: 2644 warnings: thigh riding. cuckolding. infidelity which is implied by the cuckolding. coming in pants. p in v sex ( unprotected ). voyeurism. minor minor daddy kink. a bit of a humiliation kink on steve's part. minor minor size kink. dominant elvis. slight period typical homophobia in thoughts. i think i have everyone? i am unsure. oh author’s note: welcome to day 1 of ally's wet hot smut summer, cuckolding with steve binder x reader x elvis. this was fun. title came from suspicious minds coming on at the place i was writing this when i first started. moodboard does not reflect race or size, i just had a vision for this board and went with it. this is alos basically a faint continuation of ride it, my pony even though that is gender neutral. you don't have to read it for this to make sense in the slightest.

"Steve. My boy, my boy—" Elvis practically croons as you grind on his thigh, aching for friction and just that more touch from him. 

"I'm two years older than you, E." Steve bites back in a rush as he watches you- the one woman he loves more than anyone else in the world grind on Elvis Presley’s thigh.He should tear his eyes away and look anywhere else in the room but he can’t. How many times had he fooled around with you like this? How many times had you been so needy while he was working that you found yourself on his thigh, muffling your cries in his shoulder? Too many times to count and yet here you were in this moment not on his thigh but on Elvis’s. Elvis who he had told to stay away from you, because you were his as possessive as it was. You were supposed to be all Steve’s and only his. Yet were you? The way your hips shift and your body grinds down on Elvis betray such a familiarity that Steve bites back bile the longer he looks at the two of you. 

“You wouldn’t know it,” you start to mock before Elvis’s knee bounces in just the right way to send a shockwave through your system. “El—”

“Sorry darlin’, ya know me, got those jittery legs. Practically got ants all in my pants. Seein’ ya bounce like that— can’t help it. Gotta give ya a helpin’ knee.” Elvis chuckles, his pretense of even trying to sound chagrined thrown by the wayside as easily as the scarf that had been around your neck. His hand moves to settle at the bottom of your throat. “Look at that neck o’hers, Stevie. You give her all those marks? Bruise up this sweet skin o’ hers?”

Elvis’s smile is all teeth as he moves to nuzzle and bite at your neck while Steve manages to finally answer even as his voice shakes just that little bit. “Not— I don’t usually— those aren’t all me.” You had been wearing that scarf for two days. “How- how many of those did he give you?”

His question is directed at you, even as his eyes just focus on Elvis’s plush lips against your skin, watching your pulse jump just that tiny bit. Steve realizes that he's never seen that scarf in his life on you. He thinks, and thinks, and looks at Elvis's throat only to force himself to look away and try to think about anything except how it was Elvis's scarf, how it'd looked around his throat. How you had joked with him about how easily it would be for someone to pull him by it into a kiss. You had been speaking from experience hadn't you? Visions of your laughter as you yank Elvis by that scarf swarm Steve's mind, replacing times you had done the same to him. Your eyes are hooded and your mouth is open allowing tiny little pants to escape it when you answer.

"The scarves? Or the bruises on my neck?” 

Scarves. The word settles in his brain as it passes through his ears. It settles like a ton of bricks, weighing down his chest and twisting his heart. Elvis had given you multiple scarves and multiple hickies and you were supposed to be his and yet. Yet maybe you weren’t. Maybe you weren’t if he had allowed himself to be deceived like this. If he had allowed himself to be cuckolded by Elvis Presley. 

“Both, I guess.” Steve wets his lips, his eyes once again settling on Elvis and how he’s touching you. How his lips caress your skin and how his hands are gripping your hips, trying to get you not to move. You always were so impatient, so much so that he sometimes let you slide. Elvis— Elvis’s grip on you didn’t allow for a single bit of movement, earning small little whines of displeasure that sound like music to Steve’s ears. It’s better than any note he’s heard Elvis sing or heard him play as of late. 

“Just two scarves,” you answer, as Elvis finally lets your hips go just enough that you can grind down again. “And I lost count of everything on my neck. I know you did one a few days ago.”

The implication is that Elvis had put the rest of them there in the past few days. No wonder he had seemed as if he had a pep in his step. Steve swallows and tries to step away, tries to turn around and leave the room but he can’t. You and Elvis would be content to do this without him but if he’s going to have this happen, why should the two of you get to do it in private. His jaw tenses as he moves closer, close enough to touch your arm and you jump, your clit brushing up against Elvis’s thigh.

“Steve,” Elvis growls out what almost sounds like a warning before raising his eyebrows. “Stevie boy, what’re ya doin’? Tryin’ to take her off of me? I don’t think she wants that—” he turns to look at you, one hand removing itself from your hip and grabbing your jaw in order to pull you in for a kiss. “Do ya honey?”

If you were being entirely honest you don’t know. On the one hand, Elvis has brought a significant amount of pleasure to you over the past few days while Steve has been otherwise occupied. It wasn’t your intention to go behind Steve’s back, it just worked out that way. It’s not that you don’t love Steve but you were aching and wanting and Elvis’s cock and lips and tongue were there for the taking. A pleased hum leaves your lips as your head lolls back a little until you remember that your boyfriend is in the room with you and Elvis. You should answer him. “Steve,” you pout, your tone every bit of a person being spoiled in your pleasure. “He’s been good to me. You should see him fuck me, I’m so full.”

Steve can feel the heat rushing to his cheeks as his eyes glance down to where he can see Elvis’s sizable bulge pressing against his slacks. His own arousal has his cock pressing against the zipper of his pants with such ferocity that he swears it’s leaving an imprint on it. Elvis had fucked you better than he had, Elvis had filled you with his cock better than he had. He had claimed you as his own as if he didn’t already have every woman he ever wanted at his feet. As if Susan hadn’t been fooling around with him, as if all the dancers didn’t want a piece of him, as if the crowd while they filmed didn’t want to jump him. Elvis had claimed you, of all the people in the world and Steve— he wanted to know why.

“Show me.” The demand is simple and concise and yet has both you and Elvis’s eyes widening just a bit. This was a side to Steve you had never seen and Elvis, well, Elvis was surprised the wonderful Steve Binder had it in him. Still, he manages to speak before you do.

“Is that right, Steve?” His lips are curled into the sort of grin you only see on wolves and other predators. It shouldn’t be arousing to anyone and yet you lick your lips at the sight. “Ya know, you ain’t the first man I’ve done this to, Stevie boy.”

“I’m just the first one who caught you?” Steve spits out, trying to maintain some sort of dominance as if he hasn’t been on the losing end of things this entire conversation. Maybe if he fakes it enough Elvis won’t see the throbbing outline of his cock, begging for him to release it from the confines of his pants. “Or the only one who’ll fight for the person they love?” 

A shiver wracks your body and you mewl as Elvis’s hand that had been still on your hip slips between your legs, pushing aside your panties and slides two fingers in with a obscene squelch of arousal. “El— Ste—” you start both of their names, unsure of which one to say before Elvis tuts. 

“Nah. Ya the first one ‘m gonna show how to treat her right. ‘Cause—” A huff of a laugh. “Ya may not believe it, but Binder, I gotta lotta respect for ya. Ya deserve this. Deserve this woman on ya arm, but my boy ya gotta take care of her.” His fingers move slowly inside of you as you try and speak. “Ya hear that? Haven’t even fucked her today and she’s that goddamn needy. Achin’ for my cock. Ya wanna help me give it to her? Wanna watch my cock slide in between that tight fuckin’ pussy ya get to sleep ‘side ever night?”

No. His instinctive answer is a resounding no but when he glances at you and how your body is trying to grind on Elvis’s hand, chasing a feeling you’ve experienced with both men in the room. Well, it makes up his mind easier than any other thing could have. “You— I’ll help you.” His hand reaches out to touch your chin, to replace Elvis’s hand only to be swatted away by the man in question. 

“Been callin’ the shots wit’ me all week. Right now Daddy’s in charge. Gonna give ya girl what she needs and give ya a lesson in it.”

Steve’s reaction startles him, a groan he has to turn into a cough as his cock pulses in his slacks. He’s not— he’s pretty sure he doesn’t indulge in those sorts of thoughts but Elvis— is another person entirely. He makes it so easy to just think about him in that way. In the sort of way he doesn’t think he should when he’s in a very committed…at least on his end, relationship. The only thing that manages to get Steve out of his head, the only thing that silences his thoughts is your moan and the sound of Elvis’s zipper and pants being undone. His cock springs forth from it confines in all its uncut glory and Elvis moves to grab Steve’s hand, moving it close to between your legs but not quite where it needs to be. 

You look down at Steve’s hand and smile at it along with Elvis’s cock. “Can he help you put it in, E? Can he?” 

“It’s like you read my mind, darlin’,” Elvis croons as he moves Steve’s hand to the front of his crotch right above his cock. “Ya heard that girl of yourn, Steve. Help me put it in. I’ll guide you.”

Steve’s never been one to back down from a challenge and today is no different as he wraps his hand around Elvis’s cock, allowing the man to help him pull back his foreskin before you shift just enough to expose your pussy to them both. Somehow you’ve lost your underwear and yet Steve can’t complain even as his free hand twitches with want to touch your pussy, to feel the slick heat of your arousal against his fingers. He wishes he could taste you right now but he’s supposed to just watch and assist. The three of you hiss as Elvis enters you. The burn erring just on the side of comfortable and Elvis marveling in how you’re still so tight and warm. Steve’s hand caught for a moment before he pulls it away and moves to undo his pants, the press of his cock beginning to be too much finally to the point where he’s certain he’ll die if he doesn’t manage some release. 

“Now, Steve, ya can’t be studyin’ and learnin’ if ya distracted. Ain’t no playin’ with that cock ya got ‘tween ya legs. It ain’t mine but I know she likes it jus’ plenty. Eyes on her pussy, Binder. Shame ya don’t got ya clipboard. Be able to take notes on how a real man takes care of his woman,” Elvis grips your hip and thrusts upward as you grind down on his cock before pulling back, his cock sliding out of you with an obscene squish of your combined arousal and Elvis’s precum. “Ya see, Stevie? Gotta let ‘er ride ya like the cowgirl she is. Gotta let ‘er take what she needs while you press into ‘er jus’—” he thrusts particularly hard and fast and you yowl in pleasure. “Right. Hard ‘nough for her to feel it in her stomach and in her throat. Use her like she’s usin’ ya. Mutual pleasure for the both o’ ya.”

Steve listens, Steve listens and yet the words start to jumble in his head the more he sees Elvis’s cock covered in your juices and the more he hears your mewls and cries and the more he sees Elvis touch your clothed breasts, squeezing them tightly in his hands. He’s not even sure of the passage of time or anything beyond the rush of his heartbeat in his head and the pulse of it between his legs. He’s doing what he was told, just watching as Elvis fucks you with a speed you don’t usually allow Steve to. Maybe— maybe he should do it the next time. He’s not as large as Elvis, but he could manage this pace. He could grab your breasts and pinch your clit and cover your neck with bruises he left there. 

“Steve—” you cry out in his mind and in front of him and when Steve looks at you, staring at him blissed out and fucked on another man’s cock, he can’t help the grunt that leaves his body. His orgasm slams into him not long after as he leans forward, trying to make it less obvious as his underwear fills with his release warm and sticky as he shudders. His mind registers that there’s no noise other than his breathing and your breathing and Elvis’s breathing before he looks up and sees you biting your lip and Elvis’s hand slipping between your legs even as he looks directly at Steve. 

“Didn’t think ya had that dirty secret, Stevie boy. What’d ya say I help her come since ya couldn’t even wait for her to finish. No wonder she came to me. Settle down and keep watchin’. Maybe I can make ya do it again? Make a real mess of ya.” 

Elvis’s hand slides between the two of you, his fingers sliding against your clit and rubbing in just the right way that his cock hadn’t been. Your whines increase in volume even as Steve starts to breath harder once again, his cock somehow rising to the attention like he’s a teenage boy. You bite your lip to try and hold back your noises before Elvis leans against you, whispering softly in your ear. 

“Scream for me, darlin’. Scream so he knows who ya really belong to. Who ya always gonna belong to no matter what happens.”

Those are the magic words that have your hands moving to his biceps and clawing at them as you come with a shout of Elvis’s name, the intensity causing aftershocks and shivers to flow through your body even as you sag against him, allowing him to use you until he pulls out, coming on your stomach. 

Elvis moves your head to face Steve and smirks as he pets your hair. “Think he learned, darlin’? Think he’s gonna take care of ya?”

Your eyes take in Steve’s face and his flushed cheeks. They glide down his body where you see his clenched fists and his cock against his slacks and you let out a small giggle. “I think, Daddy, he needs another lesson. Let him touch this time, though. Make it a little more hands on.”

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @amydarcimarie, @justrae9903, @thegettingbyp2 i will probably use this same tag list for all of this wet hot summer minus any subtractions of people i know don't want austin fics. or if i'm not sure a kink is your jam.

[visualmemoryunit]

this is the first summer i dont have to wear a binder AND im no longer on meds that make me fucking die in the sun diego stays winning yall

[eleventeenratsinaflannelsuit]

It has come to my attention

that wearing a binder for the first time in the middle of Florida summer heat

is a bad decision

therefore i am taking advantage of the fact that gender is more meh than boy right now to reluctantly take back my boobs so i don’t fucking die

[martyrofacrimescene]

*cocks gun* tell me bout those ocs

OKAY OKAY

I have sososo many ocs from over the years but my current favorites are my Saints for Girls characters, and they're also the ones I mention the most (followed by ColorBlind's characters but that's absolutely seeped in spoilers I can't really talk about them I can't even talk about my favorite from ColorBlind because her name is a spoiler.)

This is a link to a post about Sloane

The second most important character in the story is Max Cameron, Sloane's boyfriend. He's more rational and logical than Sloane, who often acts on impulse before really thinking (though she is smart in her own way). He's mixed but if you ask he'll tell you he's Taino because he doesn't give a fuck enough to explain. He picked up bracelet making (especially paracord ones) as a kid at summer camp and he makes them all the time. He doesn't like wearing a lot of bracelets, though, so he gives most of them to people. He always has a pocket knife and a lighter on him even when his outfit doesn't have pockets. He'll stash them in his binder if he has to. He doesn't know if God exists and he doesn't care to, he has his gods and he doesn't really care about the other ones. His favorite color is mustard yellow and he dyes his hair blue partially because it "has a nice contrast" to his yellow clothes. His favorite album is Punch by Autoheart.

There's also Blondie Withington (first to die, RIP Blondie). She's not blonde, as her name suggests, but a brunette. She bleached her hair a few times during her life, but she wasn't born a blonde so I guess she couldn't die one either, which is to say she died with unbleached hair. She was Sloane's best friend in second grade, but they just grew apart. They were the type of childhood best friends that remains in some part of you even after not talking for years, the type where you hold on to all the gifts, all the notes, all the friendship bracelets, because you just can't get rid of them. She was probably bisexual but she never properly figured that out. She would've been a tumblrina under the right circumstances. She's Christian in a "love thy neighbor" in her instagram bio kind of way. She was a swiftie who was really normal about the way Vigilante Shit is performed on the eras tour. always came to school with a dunkin drink.

And then there's Amelia and Amanda Erin, who are identical trans girl twins (the only other twins in Sloane + Steve's class). They're extremely close to each other, by nature of being twins and transitioning together, and their senses of identity are entangled. They changed their names to stay matching. Amelia is aromantic (heterosexual) and Amanda is asexual (homoromantic). They're both big tea enjoyers. They're always stealing clothes from each other and bickering and holding grudges over a game of monopoly, but they'd kill and die for each other. What happens with them is one of the most personal things to me in the story, and probably the most emotionally compelling. They're agnostic, but Amelia is vaguely spiritual.

Also, fun fact, all their last names (with the exception of Blondie's) were possible contenders for Sloane's first name (and even her last name was second choice for her first). There's also another guy in there somewhere but he's not worth the effort of typing his name.

Okay this has been my SFG oc post god okay goodbye

[howabhwmwn]

Fuck being a trans guy in the summer it fucking sucks and i hate everything. My binder is warm and soaks up stinky sweat, i have to wash it a lot and hope it dries in time. I cant get away with wearing a sports bra. I cant go swimming with everyone in summer without being anxious about either having to answer questions about why i go swimming in a swimming shirt or go with a binder and get read as a girl. Its hot and stinky and uncomfortable and annoying and I want to die.

[thebeautygeek]

✨️HAIR LOSS vs HAIR SHEDDING ✨️

Believe it or not they are two different things! Alot of people get concerned that they are experiencing hair loss, when in reality it's just shedding.

So how can you tell whether your experiencing hair loss or hair shedding...

✨️HAIR LOSS✨️

Hair loss is internal, and many, many factors cab contribute to hair loss

Medication, Hereditary, Hormonal (Ladies, you may see more hairs in your brush during your periods), Diet, Illness (you see more hair loss when your sick, because you dont technically need your hair to survive, so all your bodies nutrients are going to go else where to help you get better), and the biggest factor to hair loss.....STRESS!

✨️Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional, so if you are experiencing extreme "Hair Loss" please reach out to your medical provider✨️

There are also some external factors that can also contribute to some hair loss, environmental elements, hard water (I have talked about hard water before, and can't stress enough how awful it is for your hair please, please, please get a shower head filter!! Get my filter here

Think of your scalp as soil, and if your plant (hair) isn't getting what it needs to survive, it will die, and fall out!

Alot of people will notice these hairs while washing their hair in the shower (which is why people looooove to attribute their Shampoo & Conditioners as to why they are losing hair.....Imma let you in on a little secret, shampoo and conditioner cannot cause you to lose hair, unless you are putting Nair in your products, it's not your hair products, so let's just knock that off 😊)

✨️HAIR SHEDDING✨️

We have over 100,000 hair follicles on our head, and we are on average supposed to natural lose 50-350 hairs per day. This is normal

Your hair actually goes through 4 stages (I will go more in depth in another blog, about what those stages are) but hair shedding is actual one of those 4. We are supposed to shed, we are supposed to lose hair, it's all apart of the cycle.

Some factors that can contribute to hair shedding is...

Seasonal, you will see more hair shedding in the fall/winter months, than you will the spring/summer months. Why? Well we need more hair in the summer to protect you scalp from the heat, in the winter we don't need to do that.

Also, if you don't wash your hair everyday, don't brush it everyday, wear your hair in a high ponytail, or messy bun alot, and you secure them with an elastic hair band 😬😬 (Please, if you must put your hair up, use a silk binder, or a claw clip to secure your strands, much, much easier on the hair and there's no tugging ot pulling when removing them.)

So once you finally do wash your hair, all those hairs that would have come out in the brush, or during a wash are all coming out at once, making it seem like you are losing a ton of hair, when in reality it's normal, and your just seeing it all at one time.

Hope this was helpful, if you have more questions about your hair, feel free to DM or leave me an ask, by clicking the "ask me anything" button 😊

[theissuewithred]

Summer sucks. Its so fucking hot and i would rather die than wear my binder but if i dont i will hate everything about myself

[lesbian-of-nine]

Can wait till it’s winter so I can wear button up shirts under big sweaters and not overheat within 5 seconds

[justsomeguycore]

.

[starbuck]

the Tree Swallows are back.... the wood frogs are laying their eggs.... but the downside to this is that soon I will not be able to just sit wherever I want because there will be Ants.