#or if you want to clarify what the hell your packing situation is bc i’m genuinely curious

[degendog]

hey! sorry in advanced for kinda spilling my guts, but idk there isnt really anyone else that ive found to talk to about this.

I’m trans masc, and recently, i made something thats like part strap-on, part dildo, and part packer. ive been wearing it and its been a adjustment, but ive been getting used to it.

ive also been trying to get off with it, but that hasnt been going super well. ive been trying to experiment recently, i've only really found that i get off to being called “good boy”, but just saying that to myself hasn't been very effective. (i tend to peek within the first 30 seconds, then go into something short of a depresive spiral for like 4-7 business days, which is why ive put off really trying anything until now.) so would you have any tips?

:3

hey man you’re all good. no shame in needing advice from horny transgenders on the internet lol.

im going to assume you’re pre-t bc of the macgyvered packer-dildo-strap, which i am very intrigued by if you’re willing to describe how that works. like. are you hard packing all the time? is it like a pack n play? did you make something yourself and if so what material? <-that’s more of a question for safety/hygiene reasons lol

everyone has a different relationship to jacking off pre-t. i barely ever jacked off bc it didn’t feel good before and id be crippled with dysphoria every time i stuck a hand in my pants. a pre t dude i know is wayyyy hornier than i am now. there’s no shame in whatever libido you have, especially considering how dysphoria can affect it.

my advice: take some of the pressure to cum off yourself. it’s okay if you don’t cum when you jack off, particularly if you’re trying something new. forcing yourself to chase an orgasm isn’t fun when it’s every time (forced orgasms are hot, but only when it’s fun for everyone involved). let yourself try shit out and see what feels good. look at ftm porn if you need ideas—particularly amateur work. there’s a lot on various subreddits, but i’d avoid r/ftmspunished (which is a transmasc kinky subreddit) for at least a while bc way too much of the content on there is feminization. not helpful when you’re trying to feel comfortable sexually as a man.

seriously though, looking at porn is a great way to find out what you’re into and what gets you going. i mostly look at amateur porn bc it’s less perfect and closer to reality to me. there’s usually less fantasy involved, so it’s easier to imagine yourself in that scenario. you can watch videos of other trans guys jacking off and try to copy their movements, for example.

as for the 30-second peak followed by the week of depression, that sounds like a high libido impacted by good old standard issue dysphoria to me. i actually had pretty bad bottom dysphoria myself up until a few months ago, even after years on t. what helped me learn to love my anatomy was realizing that i’m not a lesser man just because i’m trans. i don’t have to be a last resort. people can be attracted to me for me, including my transness. (and then i got a really fucking good blowjob recently that further confirmed that lol so. worth a shot). you’re not a lesser man because you’re trans, and you and your dick are still worthy of love.

also. for the love of god do not everyday pack with a dildo unless you have one of the specially made ones. use a rolled up sock as a packer if you can’t get a silicone one. i’ve been using a sock packer for like six years.

much love man

[babybluebex]

sunshine (rami malek)

dad!rami melts my heart so here have this i’m in my feels and have baby fever and this was originally a deacy thing but i changed it to rami bc we as a fandom deserve dad!rami now i’m rambling LOL 

song: electric love by børns

word count: 2448

My hands were shaking and I could barely breathe. Rami didn’t deserve this sort of thing. He was in London filming No Time To Die, he didn’t need any distractions. His character, the villainous Safin opposite Agent 007, was so different from his usual goofy self, and he usually stayed in character because of how difficult it was to slip in and out of the role. When I told him that I was pregnant, I knew that he would drop everything and come back to me, and while that was the dream response, I couldn’t ask that of him. It wasn’t fair not to tell him, though.

I grabbed my phone and carefully dialed my boyfriend’s number, and I waited as I listened to the dial tone. The time difference meant that his day was over and I hated to wake him up from a much-needed sleep, but it couldn’t wait.

The call was answered, and I heard Rami mumble, “Stella? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, umm...” I began. “I just... Hell. I just found out that, uh... You have to promise me that you stay in London. You can’t drop everything, I can handle this by myself. Promise me, Ram.”

“Yeah, yeah, I promise,” Rami said sleepily. “What’s up?”

“I...” I began and dug my fingernails into my palms. “I’m pregnant.”

“What?” Rami said. “Wait, hold on. You’re pregnant?”

I chewed on my bottom lip. “Yeah,” I mumbled.

“Stella!” Rami exclaimed and laughed. “Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t joke, Rami,” I said with a light chuckle.

“And you really expect me to stay here?” Rami asked. “Are you crazy? How far along are you?”

“Just passed the first trimester,” I said. “I had no clue at all, I just thought it was my meds or whatever, but... Rami. We’re gonna have a boy.”

Rami’s laughter was unbridled glee. “A boy?” He repeated. “A boy! Stella, a boy... Oh, wow. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Why’re you thanking me?” I asked.

“Because you’re giving me a baby!” Rami said. “A boy... Oh, wow. Shit, I promised you I would stay here. Be really careful, yeah? And call Sami, he and his wife’ll help you until I can get home.”

“Okay,” I chuckled. “I know it’s late, I’ll let you sleep.”

Rami scoffed. “As if I can sleep now with the image of a pregnant you in my head,” he said. “Do you have a name in mind?”

“I was thinking Saïd,” I said softly. “Share a name with his Baba.”

“I’m Baba,” Rami laughed. “I’m a dad. Oh, goddamn it, Stella. I love you so much. So much.”

Now came the part that I was really concerned about. “I...” I started. “My family will hate it and so will yours, but I don’t wanna get married because of him. I dunno, I just don’t want that.”

“Okay,” Rami agreed. “Done. I love you so much, you know that? Filming’s gonna end soon and I’ll be home and we’ll do this together.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Rami said. “I’m gonna try to sleep, but I don’t make many promises.” 

��Sounds good,” I laughed. “Goodnight, Ram. Sleep well.”

“Thank you so much, Stella,” Rami said. “Again, thank you.” 

The second and third trimester passed like it was nothing. Rami got home a few weeks into the second, just in time to see my bump start to grow, and, in the middle of LAX, he dropped to his knees and kissed my belly. He was such a goof, but I loved how deeply he cared for our baby. 

The press got hold of the news quickly, and soon Rami was being bombarded with questions. We decided to keep the gender a secret, only divulging that we did in fact have a name picked out. Rami insisted on painting our spare bedroom for Saïd, and we chose a nice soft blue for the walls.

My mother was less than thrilled when we told her. She was happy, of course, but the fact that Rami and I were not going to get married or even engaged vexed her. Rami’s mother was more of the same, but she came to terms with it the first time she felt Saïd kick her hand.

Rami was such a dutiful father-to-be. He helped me stand up when my back hurt, massaged my shoulders for me, always made sure I was eating enough. Every night before bed, we had a small tradition where Rami would lay between my legs with his mouth pressed against my belly, and he would whisper to his son and tell him about his day. Sometimes they would ‘talk’ for almost an hour. I watched Rami as he did this, the way his muscles flexed under his skin as he situated himself to better speak to his son, the twinkle in his blue eyes when a gentle kick came to his cheek, and how he ran his fingers through his dark curls with bemusement once every five minutes. It was still hard for him to believe that he was going to be a father, and Saïd was already a spoiled little boy, just by his father’s love.

My due date was in early June. Our sweet summer boy was only a few weeks away. I made my way into the kitchen and sighed loudly, and I said, “Rami. No, sir, not today.”

“Why not?” Rami asked curiously. He moved the pan off of the stove and came over to me and he gently kissed my messy hair.

“It’s your birthday, jackass,” I chuckled. “I’m supposed to treat you to breakfast. Or did you miss that memo?”

“Didn’t miss it,” Rami shrugged. “Just decided to ignore it. Anyway, I like taking care of you two. Making you and Saïd breakfast is the least I can do.”

I sighed. “Fine,” I grumbled. I slowly sat myself down at the table, and Rami delivered me a cup of hot tea with a kiss on my nose. The whole no-caffeine thing was a real killer but, after eight months, I had gotten used to the taste of decaf everything. I took a sip of the tea and said, “The first thing I’m gonna do once the munchkin’s out is have a cup of coffee.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Rami said. “Any specific coffee I can pick up for your first cup?”

“Surprise me,” I mumbled sleepily. My back spasmed in pain, and I clenched my teeth together. “Hi, baby,” I whispered and rubbed my belly. An aching back was always the signal that Saïd was awake. “Good morning, little man.”

“He awake?” Rami asked.

“Yeah,” I said. Rami abandoned what he was doing to come kneel down by my chair, and he lifted my t-shirt to see my belly. It was covered in dark stretch marks, but he always took care to kiss every single one every night as he talked to Saïd. He never wanted me to feel bad about any part of myself— ever, really, but especially when I was giving him “the best gift” that he could ask for.

“Hey, you,” Rami cooed. “Are you awake? Gonna kick for me?”

My back ached again, and I reached down and massaged my lower back with my fingertips. “God, this sucks,” I mumbled.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Rami said softly. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Umm...” I began and stopped suddenly. My pants felt damp. That wasn’t unusual, because I had begun to sweat like a pig during the night, but it was strange that the butt of my pants was dry and my thighs were wet. I looked down in confusion, and I pushed Rami away quickly. Jesus, I did not want him sitting in a puddle of pre-labor fluid. Not pre; I was in labor. “Fuck.”

“What?” Rami asked quickly. “What’s wrong?”

“My water just broke,” I said slowly. “I can’t go to the hospital until contractions are about four minutes apart, so start timing them for me. I’ll be—“ I paused to grunt at the pain. “Slightly distracted.”

“Holy shit, Stells,” Rami said quickly. “Okay, I’ll call Sami and let him know, and— Is that a contraction? Right now?”

“According to Lamaze classes, yes,” I said. I stood up carefully and took Rami’s hands, and I said, “Apparently, Saïd does not wanna miss your birthday.”

Rami laughed. “He sure doesn’t,” he said. “Tell me when the next one starts. I’ll get you some new clothes and pack a bag.”

—

I was in the hospital by lunchtime. The contractions were nowhere as painful as Grey’s Anatomy made them out to be; they hurt like hell, don’t get me wrong, but I wasn’t shrieking in agony. A small grunt of pain, but that was about it. I was in a private room— probably because of Rami’s celebrity— and Rami sat next to my bed, holding my hand. We had his phone tilted up and were watching various documentaries on Netflix to pass the time, and then a knock came on the door. The door opened just a peek to show a pair of blue eyes, and I grinned. “Hey, Sam,” I said cheerfully. “How were your classes?”

“I was distracted as hell all day,” Sami laughed. “I got the call from Ram before second block and that just messed up my concentration for the rest of the day. But how are you guys?”

“Good,” I said. “A little tired, but excited.”

“That’s great,” Sami said. “It’s good that you both are calm. When Rosie was born, all bets were off for me.”

I nodded. I remembered Sami being a hot mess the day his daughter was born, and the memory brought a smile to Rami’s face. “You might be waiting a while,” he told his twin. “The doctors say it won’t happen until tomorrow morning if we’re lucky.”

“That’s fine,” Sami said. “I have no problem with that.” 

“Happy birthday, Sami,” I chuckled.

“That would be really funny,” Sami said. “If Saïd was born today. Three birthdays on the same day in the same family.”

“Yeah, don’t jinx it,” Rami chuckled. “Bri texted me and said he’d be coming by soon.”

“Dr. May?” I clarified, and Rami nodded. He and Brian had grown incredibly close since BoRhap, even to the point where we asked him and his wife to be Saïd’s godparents; they accepted without hesitation. “Ah, that’ll be nice. He’s such a cool guy.”

Saïd decided to make his appearance before Brian could show up. The contractions became longer and tougher, forcing a few hard breaths from my lungs, and panic began to set it when the midwife made Rami and Sami leave the room. “He’s the— Rami’s the father,” I protested quickly. “Can’t he stay?”

“We’ll get him scrubbed up and he’ll be back soon, dear,” a gentle nurse told me, but that didn’t stop my eyes welling up with tears.

Rami squeezed my hand once more before being ushered away. Soon after that, I had my epidural, and I was only mentally half in the room after that. Rami came back, all dressed up in sterile scrubs, and he held my hand and encouraged me the whole time. “Good job, good job,” he whispered to me. He brushed my hair off of my forehead and kissed my cheek, and he said, “Doc’s saying to push, Stella. C’mon, you can do it. Good, good, just like that.”

I was more aware of what Rami was doing than what I was doing. I watched a mixture of surprise and happiness flit across his face, and I distantly heard a nurse exclaim, “It’s a girl!”

“A girl?” I asked. “We were told...?”

All thoughts left my head as the nurse tugged down the neck of my gown and laid my daughter on my bare chest. She was wailing, her olive skin all wrinkled up, a soft swirl of black on the top of her head. I cooed at her and kissed her forehead, and her wails died down to small hiccups. “Clara,” I whispered. “Clara?”

Rami smiled. He was crying, and he leaned down and kissed my lips. “Clara,” He said when he pulled away. “My gorgeous, gorgeous little Clara.”

Clara was taken to be cleaned and weighed, and Rami held me tightly. “You did it,” he said. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” I whispered. “And Clara. Clara Malek.”

“No, she’d have your last name,” Rami said. “Clara Lee.”

“No,” I said softly. “I know I said I didn’t wanna get married, but that was before Clara was a tangible human. I can’t imagine not being married to you as we raise her.”

“This is the best birthday I’ve ever had, no debate,” Rami said with a smile.

Clara was brought back quickly, and she was swaddled up in a delicate yellow blanket with a knitted yellow cap over her small head. She was quiet now, her plump lips forming a perfect o as she breathed, her olive skin filled with a red blush of blood and life. I held her closely and kissed her head, and I carefully gave her to Rami. He looked down at her, a spitting image of himself, and I swear that I have never seen him more in love with anything or anyone. “Clara,” He said softly. “I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you, ya hear me? Baba will protect you until the day I die.”

Sami came in and fawned over Clara, holding her and commenting on her little dimpled cheeks. Sami’s wife took a picture of him holding her, then she said, “Ram, Stells, would you like a picture?”

“Sure,” I said. “I look like a mess but I wanna capture the moment.”

Rami was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed as I held Clara, burying a kiss in my messy and sweaty hair. His eyes were closed blissfully and I smiled down at Clara with every ounce of love in my body. My sweet little daughter.

Rami uploaded the picture to his Instagram after a nearly year-long drought of uploads. ​Hello all​, he captioned it. Help me welcome Clara Habibah Malek. We were told that Clara was to be a boy and we planned on the name Saïd Christopher, but she decided on surprising us. Clara is what we came up with for the replacement for Saïd, and Habibah is Arabic for beloved child. It feels accurate, because she has a whole world of people who love her. Thank you all for supporting us on this journey, and we hope that you stay with us. Sincerely, Rami Malek and Stella Malek.