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mooncaps · 1 year ago

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Gender 2: Questioning Boogaloo

Alright, I'm gonna try to pack the rest of my thoughts and feelings about my gender into one long post so I don't keep cluttering up everyone's feeds with my useless emotional distress. No promises though.

I keep coming back around to the questions: Do I actually want to be a girl, and for what reasons?

It's gonna be lengthy post, but maybe it'll be interesting for some of you. I'd like to feel seen and understood in these quandaries, maybe even get some advice on some of it, but I'm hesitant to ask that of anyone. If you're interested in a journey deep into my gender-confused psyche, my history, and the insecurities I have surrounding the topic, then this is the post for you. And even if no one reads all this, I've gotta process and express all this stuff. At least it'll be a record I can look back at, if nothing else.

Alright, now that that's out of the way, *picks up shovel, points it at myself,* time to dig into this bitch.

When I look back at the above post in 2023, I'm marveling at how confident I sound about all of it. I feel so uncertain now. About where I am and also about some of the things I expressed back then.

And that was January 1st, 2017. I had barely clawed my way out of daily suicidal ideation only to be utterly gut-punched by new horrors. It wasn't even two full months after the election...that election. Did I have confidence back then? I don't remember feeling like a confident person. I don't remember feeling like much of a person at all. My tone is confident in that post though. At a guess, maybe I drafted some of it before the election; I think I had a little confidence for a brief window of time pre-election. I'm not sure how much of the confidence in that post was me leaning into it, putting on confidence because you're supposed to be confident about these things, or how much of it was real confidence. Why can't I remember what it felt like writing that post? I can read my words, but I can't connect to what I was feeling when I wrote them. Parts of it still ring familiar, but there are also parts I'm looking at more critically.

In that old post I said I was flattered by being mistaken for a girl. I expressed dissatisfaction about my face, voice, and shoulders making people see me differently. I talked about seeing myself in Bella while failing to connect with Beau, and that fact still raises questions for me today. The thing that started this gender journey was learning about trans people. I had vagina envy as a child and I talked about that in the post where I said several times that I'm not a girl. For the second time in recent memory I'm reminding myself of that post about the flower and the old shoe. Did I really feel convicted in saying I wasn't a girl or was I just trying to convince myself? When I set the record straight about not being a girl, I said I felt uncomfortable about encroaching on a space that didn't belong to me.

Was it my low self worth giving me impostor syndrome about it? Or is it genuinely not where I belong? Have I lost that confidence and become untethered from the socially constructed elements of gender because I so rarely socialize? Or do I rarely socialize because I feel like I'm not the right gender to socialize the way I want to? Have I lost that confidence because I'm drifting into something I'm not? Does the grass just look a little greener on the other side of the fence? Am I fascinated with the road not taken purely because I didn't take it, or because I truly wish I was there? Is my gender just genuinely such a moving target that I'll never settle on one for a prolonged period of time? Or is that just ADHD brain always wanting something new? Or I guess it could be both; it could be that my ADHD brain shapes how I feel about gender.

If I had a magical shapeshifting body, I wouldn't mind my gender being a moving target. I have this body though, and changing it would take a lot of work. And it could end up feeling like a lot of fruitless work if my identity changes again.

Is it really me if I'm too afraid to work for it?

I know people like to say there are no rules and there's no right way to be any gender, but I can barely even take care of myself, let alone make myself look presentable. Can I be a girl with four-to-seven day stubble on her face? Wearing hats to cover her male pattern baldness? With hair on her back and belly that she has neither the energy to manage nor the money to remove? Those things don't make me feel feminine. I don't feel like I have the right to stand here in this hairy, hulking, monstrous, masculine body and say "actually I'm a girl," even if I sometimes wish I could be. I'm still not even sure if I really want to be a girl or just do femme presentation, but I don't really feel like I can handle either in any kind of consistent way.

Am I better suited to admiring beauty than to being and feeling beautiful? Certainly being ugly sounds easier and trying to make this body the kind of beautiful I wish it could be sounds like an uphill losing battle. I worry that even if I could get good at femme presentation, it would still feel like a costume. I don't feel like I can be good enough to be a woman. Not good enough in body and not good enough in mind to place myself in the ranks of people so amazing and beautiful.

What I think I want is a world where all people are truly, completely, 150% treated as equals, because then my gender wouldn't be particularly relevant. Or the magical shapeshifting body, because then it wouldn't take so much effort to change how I look and how people perceive me. Or a world where I could be free of my low energy brain and/or free from capitalist financial pressures, because then I would actually feel like I can use my energy on my gender presentation.

A lot of it comes down to energy. I only have so much of it and I have to use most of it to survive. When I let my facial hair grow, it's not so much about wanting a beard as it is about not having the energy to fight a beard. And I've tried, at times, to make the best of this masculine flesh-prison. To find some kind of handsome that would be satisfying for me. There have been times when I've purposely grown a beard and tried to find a satisfying manly look, figuring if I'm stuck with a beard then I may as well try to make it a good one. The idea that I could have a face where facial hair doesn't grow was not a thought that ever occurred to me after puberty. Considering that possibility has given me much to think about. In the meantime, low effort masc and high effort masc are both bearded on me, and my rudimentary attempts at femme are stubbly, because this thing just grows whether I want it to or not. Eventually I stopped putting effort into my appearance (or my life in general) because I started feeling like no amount of effort could get me the appearance I wanted (or the life I wanted.)

So I guess I just want it to be easier. I don't want to have to struggle against my own body, but I do wish my body could look different. I wouldn't say I love my body, but I am essentially used to it. I'm so tired of working so hard for everything. I don't even have all that much, or do all that much, but it drains the hell out of me in this low dopamine brain.

I don't feel like I'm strong enough to pursue my dreams and heal my inner child. And not just because I'm pretty sure my state's government would literally crucify me for trying. Because of me. The energy needed for this kind of work is not something I've had in my brain any time in the last thirteen years, maybe longer. I can barely find the energy to keep myself alive most days, let alone have any left over for the pursuit of happiness. And then there's also the bigotry. I don't wanna fight. I wanna rest.

Does what I wish I could look like matter if I can't achieve it? I do wish I could look different, but how serious is that wish if I can't find the drive to work hard for it?

And even if I could achieve high femme, passing presentation, what do I expect to get out of it? Why am I drawn to this idea of being and being seen as feminine?

There are parts related to feminine beauty as an art form that I'm drawn to (probably in multiple ways) and there are parts related to social positioning due to how I'm perceived based on my post-pubescent sex characteristics.

I think I'd find joy in being a woman, in being seen and treated the way women are...the positive things at least. No reasonable person enjoys misogyny and the toxic stuff. In a world without toxic men, I think I'd really like being one of the girls. If I could be a respected girl, I think I'd enjoy being a girl.

I think about the socially constructed elements of it. I get anxious about describing or showing my appearance, even on this progressive platform. I've never really hidden the fact that I'm AMAB, but it's also not something I've advertised or something I like to bring up very often. I'm sure most of you just think of me as Korra in Sailor Mercury's outfit. If I dispel that illusion and point out that I'm just a fat, ugly dude, will that ruin everyone's image of me? Will it make people treat me differently? Or abandon me altogether? Sometimes I wonder if I'm just lonely and think being a woman (especially a pretty woman) would draw more people toward caring about me. There are other social aspect too, but attention is a factor, at the very least. And I'm sure that's not really a good mindset to have about it.

And I've had to ask myself if I'm just afraid to let myself be a straight, cis man because of how much everyone I admire dunks on straight, cis men. At the same time, there's plenty of shit that self-identified straight, cis men do that I'm willing to dunk on too. The more a man centers straight and cis as his identity, the more likely I am to disagree with him on many topics. I don't relate to whatever macho nonsense those guys are huffing. I don't want to be like those guys. As was true in the 2017 post, no matter what my gender is, it continues to be important to me that I stay aware of the ways male privilege and the other factors of being raised and socialized as male have affected my life. I don't want to be toxic, but I could be a man without being toxic, couldn't I? Or is there really something deeper within me that wants to be another gender for more reasons than just not being this thing that's the object of ridicule?

If the world really were equal, if I would be treated the same way no matter what my biological sex, gender identity, or gender presentation were, then I probably wouldn't care very much about any of those factors. I think I'd still wish to be prettier, just for the sake of it, but I'm not sure if I would feel so drawn to the idea that I might need to fight my own body to make it look a different way so people would perceive me differently. Because I do feel restricted in the ways I can socialize, in ways that I think I wouldn't be if I were a girl, or if I lived in a society where all genders were perceived and treated equally. I'd still have my aesthetic preferences, but if my social position weren't impacted by what I look like, then would I care as much about what I look like? If I could socialize the way I'd like to, if I could be loved and cared for the way I'd like to, regardless of how my gender is perceived, regardless of whether I'm ugly or pretty, then would my gender matter to me? Would being pretty matter to me? My low energy brain would probably just settle into the easier road, if the socially constructed parts didn't matter.

But my appearance is connected to social positioning. I can't change that. I don't live in a world where all genders, sexes, or presentations are treated equally. And whether I'm gender noncomforming, nonbinary, fluid, or a woman, all of those are perceived differently and treated differently than typical men. I, alone, as an individual in a society, don't have the power to make society treat me any other way if I look like a man. But I could try to control what I look like. And even independent of how I'd like to be perceived and treated, I am drawn to exploring feminine beauty. I think it's an interesting form of art and expression that I wish I could pull off. And I think I'd probably fit a little better in my society as one of the girls.

But the question remains: Will I still feel that way in a year? Five years? Ten? Thirty? Do I want to grow into an old woman or is this just some mid-life crisis vanity project making me want to be young and pretty? Would I be just as eager to be a young and handsome man? Or young and androgynous?

I'm realizing that I'm having a hard time picturing a future…as any gender. Old man. Old woman. Old androgynous nonbinary person. I can't form a clear mental picture of what any of those futures would look like on me. Is that a sign of fluidity? Or something else?

I'm haunted by the idea of changing my mind. Because that's what ADHD brain does. It's constantly shifting the goalposts. "Well, that made me happy for a while, but now this thing will me make me happy. Now another thing. And another thing. And another thing. And back around to an earlier thing. And now another brand new thing." Even the gender post above, this thing that apparently brought me confidence, happiness, and inner peace in the face of overwhelming darkness...I can't find those feelings anymore. If the confidence I felt back then feels foreign to me now, then how can I trust that anything I'm feeling today won't evaporate in another few years?

Who am I beneath the trauma responses? Who am I beneath the people pleasing and conflict avoidance? Who am I beneath envying other people's joyous lives and what do I genuinely want in my own life? Who am I beneath the lies I tell myself and which ones even are the lies?

Sometimes I feel like I'm mostly hollow. There's maybe a small percentage of a core me and then the rest just gets filled in with whatever mood or emotional dysregulation I'm feeling, with whatever fandom or fixation is on my mind, with whatever task is needed from me. Or maybe like I'm a sponge. I've got my squishy side and my abrasive side, but the rest is whatever I absorb, and if there's nothing to absorb then I dry out. Also I'm pretty worn down and possibly growing mold inside.

Do I only feel like I'm nonbinary when I'm absorbing that from others? Do I only feel like I could be a GNC dude when I'm watching GNC dudes? Do I only feel like I could be genderfluid when I'm watching genderfluid YouTubers talk about their experiences? Do I only feel like I might be a woman when I'm hyperfocusing on women?

Am I lost in a quest to make myself whole, or am I on the verge of fracturing into a dissociative system? And is that because many things are genuinely me? Is that because of ADHD brain telling me to want new things all the time? Or is that because I'm trying to be both what makes me happy and the people pleaser?

And who am I trying to please? My religious family? Some abstract idea of people who I imagine will tell me I'm not good enough at being a woman or being a femboy or being queer? Am I somewhere in the middle of all that, drifting between all that, or am I just in denial about where I really belong?

I looked back at Kaitlyn's slam poem and the line "the first time I opened the door to the possibility of being myself I found a treasure map I left for myself back when I was a kid" is sticking out to me this time.

When I wrote the gender post above, as 2016 became 2017, I don't think I was looking closely enough at my inner child. I recognized some signs of putting on masculinity like a costume, imitating other men, but I think I was overlooking other aspects. The treasure map I left for myself as a kid needs to include the joy on my face in those Ariel and witch costumes, the empowerment I felt belting out "Bitch" by Meredith Brooks, the comfort I felt listening to "This One's for the Girls" by Martina McBride, the fact that I liked wearing oversized shirts or my mom's nightgowns as if they were dresses, and definitely the little dress I kept locked in a suitcase for over twenty years for reasons I couldn't explain to myself.

I knew about that Halloween memory; I never forgot about that dress. So why didn't I want to pull it out and revisit that memory back when I was in the process of defining myself as nonbinary?

Sometimes I wonder if I'm putting too much stock in a silly Halloween costume idea I had nearly 30 years ago. I think there was something real behind it though. And when I try to remember what it was like back then, how I felt in that dress, I feel peace. And I think there's a reason I can't remember exactly why I chickened out and switched to a ninja costume. I probably repressed the memory of whatever made me change my mind because it probably felt every bit as traumatic for me as the repressed memories of abuse I endured a few years earlier.

And even in spite of all that, I still can't quite read the map I left for myself. It's been so long that parts of it have worn through. I'm still not sure if I felt like I was a girl or if I just wanted to be free to be girly, feminine, without fear of being judged for having a girlish spirit and a boyish body.

The doubts keep gnawing at me from every angle. Was I too focused back in 2017 on the signs that supported the nonbinary identity, while missing the signs of a female identity? Was it confirmation bias? Or is that what I'm doing now? Zeroing in on the things that line up with femininity while overlooking things that could tell me I'm not actually a trans girl. I still can't tell if I'm talking myself into it or talking myself out of it.

I'm not sure if I'm leaning toward genderfluid because I'm afraid to be a trans girl or leaning toward trans girl because I'm afraid to be fluid, but I'm realizing that there are fears connected to both. Does that mean I'm not either? Yet there are also appealing things about both. I can't seem to navigate this tangle. Although I can say that the idea of being a man forever sounds like the worst of all the options. I can fake it, pass as a man, let everyone assume my AGAB is me. It would be easy, at least in the physical ways. But the idea of being a man doesn't make me feel excited to live my life. And I haven't internally thought of myself as one for many years now. Even when I try to conceptualize myself as fluid, I don't go further on the male side of the spectrum than a little bit demi-boyish.

I think the female body is so much cooler than the male body. It seems like such a better canvas for customization. I used to just think my draw toward women meant I was heterosexual. I was drawn to girls, but was I perhaps steered a little bit toward crushing on them? Did I just admire or want to socialize with them and adults went "ooh, sounds like somebody has a crush" and then I internalized the idea that that's what crushes were? And then later in life I thought my draw toward women was just aegosexual attraction, but now I question if it was because I actually want to be a girl (and still probably also a mostly-female-attracted aegosexual.)

There are men I can look at and think "well, if I have to be a man, then that'd be a decent enough look." There are even a few who make me think "that could be fun." But there aren't really men I can look at and think "I would prefer to look like that over looking like a woman." Even women who are barely put together, in light-to-no makeup, messy hair, and a hoodie, look way better to me than the gremlin who lives in my mirror. Even women doing masc presentation seems like a more appealing aesthetic to me than just being a dude. The only guys I'd really want to look like would be male-identified crossdressers who have enough skill at it (and natural features) to essentially pass as women, like F1nn5ter and Rynali.

But that's still ultimately the same goal: look like a woman. They're just the ones who made me realize it was possible to do that to an AMAB body without estrogen. And regardless of gender, I need to accept that I can't be others; I have to be me. So what kind of me do I want to be?

I like feminine looks, I think both in terms of how I want to look and what I'm attracted to. I think I'd also like a lot of the social elements of being female. I'm not sure if I'd truly never ever want to be a man again sometime, but I definitely don't like the idea of being stuck as one. And I guess parts of that do sound a little more like genderfluid than trans girl. I'm not sure though. I'm still not 100% sure if what I feel falls under the category of dysphoria. Even if it does, I wonder if I'm truly genderfluid and only dysphoric sometimes, or if I'm always dysphoric and sometimes I just get distracted or dissociated enough to not care about my physical presence. The fact that I keep feeling differently about it sounds more like fluid, doesn't it?

Sometimes I think I really am fluid and I need to figure out how best to make that work. Other times I think I'm probably always a girl and just getting dissociative about it to avoid the dysphoria. Is the fact that sometimes I feel less connected to femininity and sometimes I feel more connected to it just part of a cycle of fear and dissociation? Sometimes I think I'm fluctuating between masculine and feminine, but sometimes I think I'm fluctuating between feeling and not feeling. And I probably shouldn't be conceptualizing either one of those as being tied to any particular gender. I can be a dead inside girl, or a feeling boy, so that shouldn't be my metric for my gender identity. Is it fluidity or is it just varying degrees of feeling my feelings and running from my feelings? Is something in the gender nonconforming area more my speed? Is trans girl with fluctuating emotional problems the right fit? Is it still just a nebulous kind of nonbinary? Or is it truly fluid?

I think if I could keep up with it, I'd probably enjoy the fluctuations. Sometimes I feel like I'm meant to be a shapeshifter, destined for it somehow. If I could easily align my appearance with my feelings, I would be less stressed about my feelings taking me on a rollercoaster ride. It would probably even be fun to shift into different presentations and physicality, if it were easy.

And I didn't always feel distressed about my masculine features. I do have some memories of being excited to look manly and handsome. I remember getting leg hair and facial hair and wanting to show them off. Looking back, I think it was more about wanting to be good at performing masculinity, and praised for it, than about sincerely wanting to be masculine. And maybe parts of it came from ADHD brain, being engaged by the newness of it.

And I gave it my best effort for a little while. I think I had a little joy at times in feeling like I was satisfyingly masculine. But sometimes I question whether that effort was just about making the best of a cage I never wanted to live in. I didn't build the cage and there's very little I can do to reshape it. I just live here. Enduring in my cage because the idea of escape is too frightening. I do my best to cope with this cage in the hopes that someday there might be something worth coping for. But how much of who I am in the cage is who I really am?

There are some of my old pictures that I think look more like I'm trying to pass as a boy than like an actual boy.

I think the pictures that still make me smile are the ones where I feel like I actually succeeded at it.

Would I still be interested in feminine presentation if I felt like I could still look like that? I was interested in femme presentation before I reached that age. And I think even at and around that age I would've accepted an excuse to do something feminine and play it off as a joke.

I kind of internalized that idea as I developed. I could be girly as a joke, as long as I wasn't sincere about it. Then my peers wouldn't tease me (as much) and my grandmother wouldn't worry about (that part of) how I was turning out. Then that internalized idea evolved into trying to make wacky my brand. Even teen me takes on a nostalgic glow compared to my empty adult shell. At least teen me wasn't so afraid to be weird and childish.

Physically speaking, being my younger self would feel like an improvement over my current physical state. I have not taken very good care of this body because I spent most of my life not caring very much, not having a passion for living. So getting back the younger body I failed to care for would feel like an improvement. I might would even think of it as good enough to get by and not hate myself, but would I love myself? Would I be excited to be that self? Would I be any more motivated to take care of myself? Would having the ability to look like that again be truly satisfying? What would I want to make of myself? What do I want to make of what's left of myself?

Am I only excited by the idea of a feminine self because it's new? ADHD brain likes what's shiny and new...while it's shiny and new. Will this fixation wear off some day and leave me just as dissatisfied in femininity as I've been in masculinity? Would it leave me wanting to go back? It's hard to be sure. And yet I can look back on my life and see a wish for femininity even in some of my earliest conscious memories. It's a wish that comes back around no matter how many times I've pushed it down. Surely that means something.

I think, from my present day perspective at least, that masculinity was the consolation prize. I wanted to be girly on three different Halloweens, when there was that little bit of permission to want to be something else. And that version of me, my inner child, is the only one I trust unconditionally. Any me that came after, I take with a grain of salt.

I'm sure some traces of my true self existed in my false selves, but I'm still untangling how much of my teen and adult selves were authentic and how much was a performance. The greatest thread of truth I can see in myself is my desire to escape myself. And gender dissatisfaction seems to be a big part of that.

If anyone had ever made me feel like being pretty, cute, or feminine was an option that I was allowed to want for myself, if it felt like an option that I would've been fully supported in exploring, if I could've felt like I wouldn't be teased by my peers for it, if it wouldn't have worried some of the adults in my life, then I think I would've been all over it.

My education on the topic back then was incomplete. I didn't know about trans people. I was taught "these are the things that are going to happen to your body." And because I was abused in my earliest years, I have this little psychological block called "learned helplessness" which pushes me to accept that I can't control things. If I'm stuck being a boy, I may as well be good at it, the best boy I can be. Handsome, righteous, the nice guy boyfriend, rich, famous, funny, and successful on all the other metrics.

The same thing happened when I started losing my hair at 18 years old. Welp, guess I can't control it. Just another inevitable fact of masculine life. May as well be good at accepting it gracefully and be self-righteous about not fighting my body. I can track the depths of my depression back to the same time period my hair loss got too far along to ignore. I didn't even know how upset I was about it until it all hit me at once like a truck, a decade later.

Now I look back and I can see: I denied myself the option to be pretty and life took away the option to be any kind of handsome that would satisfy me. Just one of many ways I wish I'd broken out of the learned helplessness and taken better care of myself. And if I'd been a woman, there wouldn't have been that sense of "this is just a thing that happens." Even with the learned helplessness, I would've felt like I had more permission to be distressed about my hair loss. And people in my life would've been lining up to help me figure out how to deal with it. I think the social support is the thing I most envy about women. No one seems to care that I'm drowning, even when I tell them in plain English. No one offered help and I didn't know enough, so I just accepted, again and again, that my body is not a thing I can control.

And around the time I locked away my little black and white dress, started accepting that I just need to be the best boy I can be, and cut my name down from Nicky to Nick, I also started getting really angry and defensive. I think just in general, but I have at least one memory of a lot of anger when a boy I'd just met accused me of being a girl. Like, yeah, my hair was a little long, but that's because I was trying to grow it to be like Shawn Michaels, the clearly masculine wrestler and successful ladies man. I wasn't growing my hair out to be girly. DUH!!

It was probably pretty close to that look. I don't think my hair got much longer than that before I gave up on the awkward middle phase between short and long. I can remember wanting to get it long enough to flip it back like Shawn Michaels sometimes did.

I did that sometimes, picked a man to imitate. But again, consolation prize. If I couldn't be Sailor Moon or a Spice Girl, then Tommy Oliver and Shawn Michaels were at least cool and had long hair. At least Goku and Vegeta had magical powers. At least classic rock stars wore long hair and fun psychedelic colors. If I couldn't wear pretty floral dresses, I could at least wear Hawaiian shirts. I could put the effort into being the closest manly equivalent to what I really wanted.

I remember being so angry about the accusation that I was a girl and tempted to prove that boy wrong. Looking back, I think the vulnerability that anger was masking was: "What's the point of all this effort I'm putting into being good at being a boy if people are still going to pick on me for being girly either way?!" I recognize that younger self, and I love that kid, but that's one of the selves I take with a grain of salt when looking back and trying to find what's authentic in me. Nicky was the genuine one, before I got too overwhelmed by social pressures.

Nicky definitely wanted to be one of the girls in some of my memories. I didn't have the language or understanding to say I was genderfluid, nonconforming, or trans. I didn't have the nerve to say I want to be a girl in a serious way, not a playful joke way. In terms of social positioning and in terms of appearance, that's the way I wanted to socialize, that's the way I wanted to look, at least sometimes. Though I couldn't have articulated those wishes in that way, I wanted those things.

And Nicky could've pulled it off. Nicky didn't have facial hair, back hair, chest hair, belly hair, broad shoulders, or a manly voice. I've been nostalgic for childhood memories and childhood fandoms since I was teenager. Some of it's probably the basic childhood nostalgia that people get, for a time when they didn't have responsibilities, but I think there's also a gender element to it for me. Whether I was a trans girl, genderfluid, or nonconforming, it would've been easy, in terms of appearance and presentation, back then. A wig and a dress was all Nicky really needed to pass…and I was small enough that it wasn't a nightmare to find clothes I like in my size.

Even as Nick I was androgynous enough to be seen as a girl if I grew out my hair to barely even bob-length, even in my boy clothes. The late Nick/early Nic era was when that ability to flip presentation slipped away, though I stopped allowing myself to want to look girly even earlier than that. I still kind of wanted to be at least a little girly in personality, to be soft and caring, all through my life, but I spent about 19 years not allowing myself to want to look like a girl. Looking manly was the only goal I would accept, and I'm sure it was at least partially because I didn't want to be teased. And I'm still hesitant, because I don't want to be harassed.

If my education, back when I was Nicky, had included the fact that some people take special medicine to prevent the changes of puberty from happening, or to instead have the other puberty? ... I'm still not sure if I would've had the nerve to pursue it back then. With all of today's knowledge, I probably would choose it if I had the ability to do my life over. If I could intervene before puberty, learned helplessness, and later depression brought about the engrossification of my body, I think I probably would. From where I'm at today, I don't know if the fight (against my body and against bigotry) would be worth the limited result. And even knowing back in the day about the special medicine to stop puberty might not have been enough, by itself, for me to feel like I was allowed to want that in a conservative religious household, and in a world full of social pressure to be good at masculinity.

Even after I stopped attending church and started learning that being a boy wasn't my only option, it still took me the better part of nine years to come to terms with the idea that I might really want to be a girl.

I think I was genuinely relieved to let go of masculinity, in the 2017 post. There's still to this day an internal clash between who I feel like I'm supposed to be and who I'd want to be if I felt like I could be anything. I can't seem to let go of either, so I end up becoming something that doesn't satisfy either one.

The relief I felt in 2017 from accepting that I don't have to be a boy was sincere. I'm questioning whether nonbinary was just my way of trying to straddle the chasm inside myself, to sit in the middle, to privately pull away from who I felt like I was supposed to be, while not taking any of the bigger steps that would disappoint my religious family. Recently I've been drawn to the label of genderfluid, but is that still just me trying to have it both ways as the chasm widens? Do I just want to be able to float across and still come back to being my mother's son? Am I just holding on to that part of myself for her, or is it important to me?

Is my wish to be fluid just about people pleasing or does it come from something genuine in me? Or do I need to accept that wanting to avoid conflict is a genuine part of me? There is no solitary existence, so is who I would be in the absence of others even relevant? But even so, suppressing genuine wishes to make myself happy for the sake of making others happy, surely there needs to be some kind of balance and self-respect there. Where's the line between being the type of selfless that's kind and the type of selfless that's just a doormat? Where's the line between loving myself and selfish arrogance? Where's the balance between not wanting to upset others and what I sincerely want to make of myself?

If I had the magical shapeshifting body I dream of, then I probably would choose to change gender to suit situations, as well as try a bunch of shit just for the hell of it. Masc, femme, androgynous, different heights, different weights and curvature, skin tones, ages, hair colors, eye colors, animals, mermaids, fairy wings, butterfly wings, angel wings, fictional aliens. I'd do it all, at least to try it. Would I settle somewhere after that experimentation though, or would I always want to change every now and then? Is masculinity something I want to leave behind or something I want the option to return to every now and then?

Is it just that I'm afraid to let go, like I was afraid to let go of the edge of the pool when I was learning to swim, and the edge of the couch when I was learning to walk? Do I just want something stable to hold onto because I'm afraid I'll mess up, or is masculinity something I'd genuinely enjoy coming back to at some point?

If I take an IPL device to my face, would I one day regret not being able to grow a goatee? And if I do want to keep an option for facial hair, that makes femme presentation infinitely more complicated. And the temptation to surrender to the beard becomes infinitely more tempting. On the sensory level alone, even coarse beard hairs are better than sandpapery stubble. In the moment, I feel like I want my skin back. No coarse hairs, no stubble, no shadow, just my face. But again I have to ask if I'll still feel that way later.

So the idea of being fluid makes me afraid to do anything permanent to feminize my appearance.

And the idea of being a trans girl makes me afraid too, though I think a lot of that boils down to fear of how others would react to me. And I can feel like a girl on the inside, but that doesn't get me any closer to the things I would want from womanhood. That doesn't make me feel pretty. That doesn't make me happy to see my reflection. That doesn't get me the perception and social elements I want. That just makes me feel like a girl in a hideous body. Or, at best, a girl in disguise.

And the idea of just being a soft GNC dude doesn't feel so frightening, but I don't like my look with a beard and a skirt, or beard shadow and a skirt, and I don't think any look that makes me feel like "dude in a dress and makeup" would give me the personal satisfaction or the social aspects I wish I could have. If I could get my presentation all the way up to F1nn5ter levels, maybe I'd feel a little better about the look and be okay with something in the GNC dude range, but I don't feel like that's anywhere near achievable for me. And I'd still fear being judged and harassed.

Even nonbinary, the way I've been thinking of myself for years, isn't quite satisfying me. Not nonbinary masc anyway. Maybe nonbinary femme would be a little more personally satisfying, if I could live without fear of others.

I don't think it's the identities themselves that make me afraid, but the difficulties and practicalities connected to them. If it were easy to transform myself into each, and if I weren't afraid of being judged and hated for trying on new selves, then it wouldn't cause me nearly so much stress.

I would ask: Is it really me if it stresses me out? But it seems like ALL the options stress me out.

I'm not even sure which path would make me happy. All of the paths have fears and hard work attached, more fears and more hard work than I feel like I can handle.

I'm sure I don't fully understand the extent of what sort of cost, what sort of effect giving up male privilege would have on my life. Nor the full depth of hardship I'd face if I did pass as a woman. Nor the full depth of discrimination I'd face if I didn't. And I'm sure there'd be some portion of hardship, discrimination, and othering from male privilege that would occur even if I did just try to be a soft dude who wears girly clothes and has some girly interests. And trying to just deny my interests, to live as a conforming man would have other costs to my mental health. It really doesn't feel like there's any win scenario, just a choice of which way I'd prefer to lose.

I think a big part of the reason I want to have my whole identity completely figured out is because I want to be able to tell my mom, but I think if I do she's probably gonna pick it apart. I worry that she'll never be able to let her mind accept the idea of trans and nonbinary identities being real, because she has a religious conviction that God knows our genders and made us the way we're supposed to be. And she can cut through my walls to my vulnerable center like no one else on this earth.

I think some of that gender ideology is drilled so deeply into me that I have a hard time letting myself believe that I could really be a trans girl, that it's something I'm allowed to be. I never really knew about trans people growing up, but I knew about gay people. I was even taught that we should love them. Yet there was an unspoken implication of: "That's something confused secular people do. We God-fearing people know better than to be confused like that."

Sometimes I even feel like God's been leading me here my whole life and wants me to be His happy daughter or fluid child. I've had three spiritual experiences lately that seemed to be steering me toward following my heart into femininity. It felt like maybe even God wanted me to find this path, but then I started to ask myself: How could that really be possible? I'm probably just seeing what I want to see. I have to be deluding myself. Or Satan's making a sinful life look beautiful so I'll fall for his lies. Or is Satan the voice telling me to doubt that God wants me to be happy? Or do neither of those dudes exist and it's all just my own anxious brain trying to untangle the complexities of myself? Are my spiritual experiences evidence of a loving God, some kind of confirmation bias, or just my own spirit communicating to me what it wants?

So those doubts linger in my mind and make me afraid to share with my mom that I've been questioning my gender, even though I want to be able to tell her. I don't want to blindside her, but I also don't want to go to her with some half-formed idea of who I am.

I don't think she'd hate me or disown me if I decided to ID as female and transition. I don't think she'd try to stop me. There are certain steps she'd probably try to talk me out of if I went there, but even then I think she'd ultimately leave the decisions up to me and "still love" me. Sometimes I think it would almost be easier if she would hate me, because then I would have an obvious, if terrifying, course of action. For her to love me enough to let me pursue my own happiness, but not love me enough to be happy for me, or to help me pursue happiness...that's my hell. I'm aware that it's a very privileged sort of hell, but my feelings about it are relative to my lived experience.

And she would have questions. If I show her my softest heart, she'll want to prod and possibly dissect it. I don't think it would be as bad as this, but it would be uncomfortable. And if I'm not feeling confident enough in myself, I'll deflate under that pressure. Vulnerable as I am right now, she'd probably have me talked into going back to church and praying away my heart inside of a day. Part of me even wants to be able to rid myself of these wishes and make things simpler. It'd be so much easier if I didn't like the idea of being some kind of feminine.

Is it really me if I deflate under pressure?

The questions I keep asking myself are the ones I'm expecting my mom to ask if I ever work up the nerve to tell her. "Why does liking dresses and makeup mean you're not a boy? Boys should be allowed to do that stuff." And I agree that boys should be free to do that stuff. "It's because you were abused by a man, isn't it?" And I've wondered if that's the reason too. I know I don't like how much I look like my abuser. "Why can't you just be happy with a masculine body?" I asked the mirror the same question this morning and several other times. Why can't I just be happy as a boy? (And on that point, I'll take a phrase from my 2017 self: "Eventually, in all of my introspection, I hit the realization that quantifying why "he" made me uncomfortable was beside the point. The fact that it made me uncomfortable was the point.") Everything my mom ever taught me makes me hate myself for not just being happy in the body God gave me. Even beyond what my mom taught me, all the positive messaging I see about loving yourself as you are makes me feel selfish and vain for wanting to change myself. "Are you just doing this to escape your self-loathing?" Maybe. Or maybe that self-loathing developed because I couldn't find the courage to do this.

I mean, I love my mom dearly. She helps me in so many ways. I value being able to talk with her about everything else, even when she challenges me. Maybe even especially when she challenges me, because it pushes me to define and defend my own positions on issues. And I guess that's playing out with trying to define my position about my gender. I value that motivation to strengthen my resolve and many other things about my relationship with my mom. I truly think she's better than a lot of moms in a lot of ways.

But at the same time, it's utterly debilitating to need so much help from someone (and I do need a lot of help) and yet feel like you can't show that person your truest self.

And I hope I'm not making my mom sound awful in all these posts. She's flawed, old-fashioned in some ways, and deeply religious, but of all the family members in my life she was definitely the most supportive of me having "feminine" interests and letting clothes be clothes. She made my Ariel costume, bought my witch costume, and reached out to my friend's mom for that little black and white dress when I said I wanted to dress up as a girl. She also bought me a bunch of Sailor Moon toys and other merch. She was supportive in many important ways and made me feel like it was okay to have girlish interests even though I had a boyish body. I could go full F1nn5ter on my gender presentation and I don't think it would upset her at all. Yet in some ways, her progressive stance on gender roles and gender expression became the gate barring the path for me to explore gender identity.

Pronouns, name changes, hormones, surgery...these are the things I think she'd have a harder time with. Like I said, I don't think she'd hate me or try to stop me, but I do think she'd be disappointed and I don't know if I can handle that. And I'm still not sure if I even really want to do any of those things. Some type of femboy might be as far as I want to take it. The medical parts of transition sound particularly frightening to me.

There is one thing, about my body, that present day me is very unwilling to change, but I think Nicky would've been willing to change it, even interested in changing it.

I find it curious that I apparently wished I had a vagina as a child. I have no conscious memories of that wish; I only know about it because my mom told me that when I first learned about vaginas, I was jealous that I didn't have one. That particular feeling is not a feeling I have in the present. Is it just that I've gotten used to this body's default equipment, like I've gotten used to to tolerating other masculine features? Is it that I'm afraid to mess with that source of dopamine and stress relief? Did puberty and dopamine chasing get me a little too emotionally attached to it? Is it that I'll feel like I'm failing in a new way if I lose the ability to reproduce? (Even though I have no plans to use that ability?) Is it that I thoroughly repressed the wish of my younger self the same way I repressed other memories? Or was it ultimately more of a casual, playful sort of wish, and not anything deeper than that?

Fearing the medical steps is one of the reasons I'm not sure if I really am a trans girl. My upbringing makes me feel like that physical part is fundamentally incompatible with what it means to be a woman and the other sex's physical part is the most important thing that makes a woman a woman. I know on the logical level that gender is a social construct, a self construct, and an identity separate from one's body, but I don't know it on the emotional, personal level well enough to apply it to myself. And I'm left asking myself if I have a different gender identity or if I just want to be free to mix up my gender presentation. But am I holding myself back from identity for my mom's sake, or my own?

Is it just my own religious indoctrination not letting me accept that I'm actually allowed to be trans if that's what makes my heart sing? Or am I just deluding myself into arrogantly turning my back on God's plan for me? Or is God actually kinder than that and me being happy and feminine is part of the plan? I'd love for that to be true.

Digging around in my deepest heart has also unearthed more religious baggage than I realized I was carrying. Do I still believe, even after years of telling myself I didn't? Am I just too deeply indoctrinated to think straight? Am I finding the true God behind the lies and performances of righteousness? Am I trying to talk myself into a comforting lie, to imagine a way around death and something nicer than this shithole world? Am I just regressing because of all the stress and uncertainty?

It's really messing me up, but I keep feeling like I have to find a way to make the pieces fit, to find a way to believe in God AND be genderfluid or whatever I am. To make what my spirit tells me is true about myself fit with what I was taught about God growing up. Sometimes I feel like either I must be lying to myself about my gender or I must be lying to myself about God. I want to be able to believe in both, but if I have to choose then I think I have to choose what leads my spirit toward peace, but I'm back and forth about which one that is, which is why I'd rather not have to choose. It's probably just fear of my own mortality, but I want to be able to believe in life after death, if nothing else, even if it's in the lowest degree of glory that I was taught about growing up.

It might just be some kind of wish fulfillment or escapism thing, but I find myself trying to imagine a fulfilling heaven for me as a queer person. I think I want to be able to believe in a God who could love my whole self, in whatever identity I finally land on. Not the the ultra-conservative, tyrannical weirdo a lot of American Christians seem to have conceptualized, but an actual loving God who celebrates our differences rather than judging us for them. I want to imagine a God who's somehow even better and more loving than anything I was ever taught. But at the same time I know that me wanting something to be true doesn't make it true.

When I imagine the idea of a God who could love me as any gender, or a heaven where I can be a shapeshifter, and all the other queers are there, it fills me with peace. Just imagining a being who's impossibly old, infinitely powerful, and unfathomably wise, who wants me to be happy, who has a plan for me, and that plan includes me finding gender euphoria, anywhere or everywhere on the gender spectrum, would be such a comfort.

But when I imagine that the oldest, wisest, most powerful being in the universe created me with a certain type of body because He wants me to stay this one gender and this one shape for all eternity, it sends my head and heart spiraling into turmoil and chaos.

And I'm sure I've partially conflated God and my mom. Because if my mom wasn't a religious person, if I didn't sense sincerity and good intentions from her faith, then I probably wouldn't care so much what God thinks of me.

Sometimes I wish I didn't care, but I wonder if I'll ever be able to shake the fear that a bunch of staunch old conservatives really do speak for God and I really am a disappointment to Him. I'd like to think I know, in my deepest heart, what will make me happiest. If heaven doesn't have that kind of happiness then what makes it worthy of the name? But at the same time I don't think I'll ever lose the fear that I'm wrong, that I'll be judged, that I'm just a cursed, ugly, evil, selfish, envious, vain, disappointing waste of the near-limitless potential of human life.

If my mom's church would accept and support trans people (really accept and support, not "love the sinner, hate the sin,") then it would probably clear up a lot of my distress. If I could finally feel like the oldest, wisest, most powerful being in the universe loved me and wanted me to be happy, that would be heavenly.

And that's a big part of why I left the church, because I didn't have a sense that God wanted me to be happy or that I belonged and had found my people, the way my mom did. I wish I could believe those things.

I think I'd risk the rest of it, the judgment of bigots if I don't pass, the misogyny if I do pass, the mortality rate, and any other worldly consequences, if I could believe that none of that worldly stuff could ever destroy me, if I could truly feel like God and my mom would be in my corner. Not just allowing me to play, while being quietly disappointed and hoping their prodigal son will turn back to the light, but sincerely supporting me in my exploration because they want me to find that euphoria. Not loving me in spite of how I define myself, but loving me because they're happy, overjoyed about me finding the strength to define myself and they're excited to know me.

Right now it feels like the only way to get that kind of support and joyous response from God and my mom would be to give up on my longing to find my happiest self, to mutilate my spirit and go to back to church. I can't see myself doing that.

Even if I never find the courage to show euphoric gender presentation in public, I don't wanna go back to being that bible-thumping teenager, running from my own joy, bullying myself into performing righteousness and seeking praise from the pious, hating myself for falling short of their standards, and judging others for the ways they fell short. And I guess I can believe in God and an afterlife without being Like That™ again.

Even if I accept the idea of some kind of God existing, that environment was poisonous to my spirit. I don't think anyone in that environment ever acted with malicious intent. I think they just prioritized their own values and the things that were genuinely beneficial and helpful to them, while presumably not realizing that pressuring others, who have different needs, into those same life choices would be harmful to them, to me. I don't think any of them were trying to hurt me, but nonetheless I came away damaged and who I was back then does not feel like any genuine self I've ever known. Like, the gender post above is a little more confident than I remember being, but some of my journal entries from 2004, when I was deep into trying to be righteous, are on a whole other level of "who even are you?" Definitely one of the versions of me I take with a grain of salt.

I think in some ways I was eager to get lost in "serving the Lord" and performing righteousness. I wanted people to tell me what a good job I was doing. Praise can be a powerful motivator. But I also think it was because I didn't value myself, which of course is a kind of humility that's taught and praised in the church. If I couldn't be beautiful or magical, the next best thing was righteous, which would be rewarded with praise in this life and beautiful magic in the afterlife. A lot of my life is a story of "well, what's the next best thing?"

And I could lose myself in that righteousness, draw my focus away from all the things I was unhappy about, and do something good while I was at it. I remember a church member once telling me about how when he was young he decided to join the military because he was suicidal and he figured he may as well do something good on the way out. I think that's sort of how I approached righteousness, not actively seeking my death, but not caring about my life and figuring I may as well devote it to God if I couldn't love myself.

And even today I still don't feel like I have the clearest concept of who I am or very much love for myself. Doubt and self-loathing are etched into my psyche like my appendectomy scars are etched into my belly. Fear makes me freeze, or run, even from my own joy, when sometimes I might benefit from fighting. Low self-worth makes me feel undeserving of nice things. Nearly everything I ever wanted in my youth was punished or discouraged in one way or another. All I really wanted was to avoid the teasing, quiet the concerns, and beat the gay allegations. Over time though, it started to feel like the person I was becoming to shield myself was the person I actually wanted to be. Between that and so many wants being discouraged, my first instinct is always that I must be the one who's wrong. And the formative sexual traumas in the very earliest parts of my life taught me that my autonomy and value as a person are unimportant. Learned helplessness runs deep in my thoughts.

There are times when the idea of letting myself want to be a girl makes it feel like a literal weight has been lifted off my shoulders. And I get excited about the idea of starting a new chapter of me. As long as I exist within myself and don't notice anything about my physical presence.

And then there are other times when it all just seems like too much. Sometimes I think my destiny is to waste away in mediocrity and trying to imagine I could be beautiful is just a waste of energy. There are times when I feel like this can't be normal. I want to be able to believe that my feelings are normal, but I doubt myself and judge myself so thoroughly and deeply. There are times when I feel so stupid for thinking I could ever be a girl. When it feels like there must be something wrong with me. When it feels like I'm just fooling myself into believing I could ever be any good at being feminine, into believing I could ever be fulfilled or happy.

I don't know how to recognize the difference between reasonable doubt telling me something isn't for me and unreasonable doubt telling me something can't be for me. I wish I could be a girl, at least in this moment, but I still don't feel like I actually can be. Does what I would be if I could be anything matter, if I can't actually be anything? A wish to be a girl feels about as realistic to me as a wish to shapeshift into a butterfly.

Do my wishes even matter if they're unattainable?

I don't feel like I've gotten anywhere in all this soul searching. Some of these questions have been percolating in my mind for years, and seeing F1nn5ter has lit a fire under me for a few months, but so far I'm just boiling alive while still not answering any of the questions. I still have the same problem I had at the start, except now I'm consciously aware of it instead of pushing it down and running from it.

I woke myself up only to realize I'm still helpless and hopeless. The things I was running from caught up to me, but so far they've just left me wishing I had run faster. I looked into the face of my fear only to remember why I've been avoiding it. Except now I've unraveled too much of my escapism to be able to settle comfortably back into it again for any helpful length of time. I feel like I've ruined my own coping mechanisms and now I'm just stuck with pain that I can't heal. I feel like I've shattered my old life and I don't think I can find the strength to forge these fragments of my old self into a new one.

Being awake and alive, keeping my heart open, it feels pointless without any hope to go along with it. Where can I find my hope?

And maybe that's why I want to imagine there really is a God out there who wants me to be His or Her or Their happy daughter or fluid child. Because I can't imagine any other way to find the hope, the strength, the courage, or the confidence to attempt the treacherous journey to where I think I want to be...assuming I don't change my mind about where I want to be in another few years.

And round it goes again. Spiraling in the uncertainty with no clear way to get free of it.

Maybe I need to play to my strengths and lean into clinging to what comes along for now. Just try to be satisfied with being a nebulously nonbinary, poorly-put-together femboy until or unless something else comes along that makes further steps seem more achievable. Money's holding me back for a while anyway, so there's not a lot I can do in the present apart from thinking about what it all means.

I think I know where I want to be, or enough of it anyway. Whether it's girl or femboy, temporary and fluid or permanent binary trans, in any of those scenarios I think the early steps in my path are the same. Thinking ahead to the parts of the road where it might fork is just driving me insane. I think I have an idea of what direction I want to move in, but I don't feel like I can see enough of the path to walk along it. Even those early steps feel overwhelming right now. And maybe I need to just maintain where I'm at for the time being until the universe shows me the next steps in my path. Maybe that can be the thought I use to quiet my mind for a little while.

*looks up*

Yeah, that's a lot of post. Hopefully I've got enough of it out of my head to slow down and rest until the next thing comes along.

Understanding My Gender

I expect that understanding and accepting oneself is always a complicated journey. That journey becomes more complicated if your identity exists outside of the conventional social norms. The idea of finding yourself sounds like a cliché, but it rings true to my experiences. It took me a long time to really find myself.

When I first started to learn about transgender people, really learn about them, it brought up some questions for me. Before that I had a certain cultural awareness of the idea of sex change operations. Bad jokes and poor representation were all around me. None of it ever really challenged my perception of myself. Even when I first heard the phrase “LGBT” and looked up what the T stood for, I still didn’t have any real context for what that actually was. I remember getting into Veronica Mars and being really excited that there was an episode where Veronica reunites someone with their father, who had “become” a woman. I still thought of it in those terms, a man becoming a woman. I didn’t really understand, but something about seeing it represented, not as a joke, made me really happy. It was a few years after that when I really started learning, late December of 2014 as I recall, and that’s when I started to question myself. I had led the kind of life that, when I started to genuinely learn about transgender people, I had to ask myself: “Am I this? Why am I not this?”

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constantvariations · 2 years ago

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Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you're just a complete idiot making up shit and that you don't know what you're talking about because you would rather worship an edgy white dudebro than identify with WOC characters?

Anon, you have one week to read your choice of the following books. I expect a full report on the issues the author is attempting to educate you on, why it's important, who benefits from the general public's lack of knowledge, and the many ways in which people fail to self-reflect on their behaviors when it comes to the well being of other people

White Fragility: Why It's So Hard For White People To Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo

Freedom Is A Constant Struggle by Angela Y. Davis

The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander

Sojourner Truth: A Life, A Symbol by Nell Irvin Painter

Black against Empire: The History and Politics of the Black Panther Party by Joshua Bloom and Waldo E. Martin Jr.

If you find a book that fits this subject that you would rather read, submit it for approval by Thursday

If you continue to accuse me without any evidence or providing adequate entertainment, consider yourself a failed student. Should this occur, any further messages will be deleted

Prove that you have a better intellect than a baboon throwing shit at the wall. Good luck. I think you'll need it

#rwde #i am not joking. send me all the anon hate you want but if it aint creative or unique it aint getting posted #if it does not have any meat i will not bite #like seriously. i didnt mention anyone outside of shawcross and luna in my post and this is the take you wanna fling? aight #i was talking about the white fang as a whole ass organization #which spoilers includes sienna and ilia #so youre the one blocking out the women if youre conflating the entire WF group w adam #i bet you can't even think of any black activists outside of mlk jr and malcolm x #do you even know who sojourner truth is??? highly doubt it #this kinda shit is how we all know youre white as hell #you dont actually give a flying fuck abt the issues women of color face #you just want a moral shield to beat people w then whine when you get called out for obvious bs #if you care abt women then work with local politicians to establish healthcare rights #if you care abt poc then protest in the streets w them whenever the police go too far #or better yet. intervene before someone gets put into a grave #use your white privilege to shield actual fucking people instead of being a whitebread dumbass #anon hours

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blindedguilt · 1 year ago

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🔁 |[HIT ME. ♥]|

"You're going to get us killed." - Interaction Rewrite Prompts!

For Leonard, the weight of a child's blood upon his weapon was heavier than anything else he had handled before in his lifetime.

He hadn't the honour to have even called it the first, but different from his brothers, who had found their end directly by the blades of the Empire, there was no hope for the blame of responsibility to be lifted off his shoulders now that he had wielded that same blade himself.

Leonard's breathing was panicked and uneven. A cold sweat ran down his back as the sensation of the light body being flung backwards shot once more through his arms - he felt ill. Had he died? Had he done away with his life in that forest and been sentenced to hell? Perhaps it was all a punishment, an eternity spent in war, ending the lives of children just as he had his brothers. The screams had sounded too familiar for comfort.

He couldn't, couldn't bring himself to fight. The stakes didn't come to him. The seal didn't exist to him. The usually tranquil forest had roared with the sounds of the clashing steel, the hurried footsteps, the cries and mockery of the faerie - something like the dragon's voice had called his name in harsh rebuke, and whether it truly was her or Caim, Leonard didn't understand and stumbled blindly back to the garrisons in a piteous attempt to flee.

Too cowardly to die, and too starved to survive.

All that was clear to him against the roar of noise was his own breathing, the feeling of his heart pounding in its chest, and the crushing weight of the guilt from that thought repeating itself in his head like a mantra. Leonard struggled to break out of it - do or say something that could stop this madness. Anything. A sickened cry sounded at the sound of the mercenary's own cold reproach, and the hermit struggled to respond.

"Caim, please...!"

He had tried to utter words, either protest or a plea, but his throat had grown tight and left only a quiet whimper. Was that all he could do? Beg...? Leonard's weapon trembled in his hands. He was truly weak... He could have done more than beg. Just like his brothers, there was a thought that told him that he could have saved them. But, it was all the same. His family murdered for the sake of shameful pleasure. The blood of children spilled only for his own protection - his own cowardice to even die correctly. All for himself, a pathetic existence unable to even lift a finger against the slaughter of children.

Some wretched noise, a ragged fight for strained breath against the pounding heart in his chest, could be heard against the armoured thumps of bodies against the ground. Even from a distance, Leonard's frozen body could be seen trembling uncontrollably. The polearm dangled limply from his hands.

"They are only mere children...!"

The last uttered words before the hermit collapsed to his knees were a heart-wrenching sob.

Not a voice of disgust, but a cry in horror.

#||Reply||:Caim #{/without you i lose my mind.... GIVE ME A CAAAA~IIIIMMMM}#{/the way i JUMPED when i got this though!!! ! bri! caim!!! hello!!!!! that's my fucking guy right there!}#{/dreams DO come true!!}#{/BUT LIKE; LISTEN.}#{/THIS IS E X T R A SPECIAL BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT??? IT'S NOT JUST THE FIRST LEONARD-CAIM INTERACTION}#{/BUT LIKE}#{/LITERALLY HIS FIRST INTERACTION EVER!!!! this was the first ask i got on this blog!!!}#{/so that made it VERY hard to read lmao BUT I WAS SO HAPPY TO REDO THIS ONE IN PARTICULAR GOD BLESS}#{/both for its personal significance and ALSO as i mentioned}#{/the old ask makes me cringeeeeee.....}#{/this still could be better but here's the thing: it IS better compared to that lmao}#{/i really do wanna dive into leonard's likely trauma post-leonard's regret regarding that... <w<}#{/i would also KILL to see caim's whole retrospective on that someday as well omg}#{/BUT SERIOUSLY BRI TYSM FOR THE CAIMMMMM I MISS THAT NASTY LITTLE SHITGOBLIN SO MUCHHHHH <3333 it really brought me back QwQ}#{<- may or may not have taken so long on this because i was busy reading through old asks/replies and reminiscing}#{/i mean it when i say it now: leonard will be back in full swing SOON. after i get this last ask figured out and his DS1 verse established #{/im sending in the memes i have in my.......... 90 saved drafts folder lmao}#{/i keep PANICKING over all my drafts and literally a majority of it is just misc writing things that aren't even for this blog and memes}#{/either way; AGAIN; thank you so much for the ask!! i hope its at least better than the old one lmao}#{/and im so happy to write for caim again!!!! give him all my well wishes dhfbdfkjhbdkfj}

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buntanteen · 5 months ago

Text

bestie fwb!mingyu headcanons (nsfw)

summary: kim mingyu and reader's bestie fwb dynamic headcanons :3

contains: 18+ nsfw writing so mdni!! implications that reader is smaller than gyu

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

bestie!minyu who is just a poor puppy not catching a break from anyone 😔 especially from you lmao. you're one of his biggest supporters but also biggest teasers. post-concert, you'll be imitating how he's trying to make carats swoon with his charms (the both of you know how proud you are of him <3 you just love seeing him pouty)

bestie!mingyu who lets you use his chest as a stress balls. you once said "honk honk" while squeezing them and got your mingyu tiddies card revoked for a week😢

during bestie!mingyu’s night dance practices to finish, he'll come whine to you that "jeonghan hyung is being mean🥺" or complain about whichever member is pulling jokes on him. he should've known better that you’d be riling him right with them 🥰

fwb!mingyu who comes home to bury his face in your chest after a long day. you think he's knocked out...only for him to start licking, nipping and sucking marks onto your skin :3

bestie!mingyu who will always provide you delicious meals😌😌 is constantly cooking you a something when you come over and has deemed you his official taste tester! if you insist to cook alongside him, he'll refuse. he might let you peel the veggies tho <3

when you go out to eat, bestie!mingyu will always insists on picking up the cheque. since you get pouty about him not letting you pay, he lets u buy the dessert at the convenience stores or cute lil cafes as a compromise

bestie!mingyu who always asks you to take pretty boyfriend pics of him for his carats🥹 ofc you oblige, loving to see his fans fawn over new pictures that you so carefully asking him to pose for

fwb!mingyu who begs to eat you out and hits you his 🥺 puppy eyes so you to let him (you were going to anyways)

bestie!mingyu who comes to you for relaxation or advice when he's stressed out of his mind. he lets you pamper him with gentle touches and soothe away his worries with sweet words. you tuck him into your bed so he rests well to tackle the next day😊

feeling safe enough to initiate touch with bestie!mingyu :) he gives as many piggy backs as you desire as long as you let him bite his fangs into your arm when he's bored 🥰 sits you in his lap in crowded group hangouts. you've insisted that he sit in yours too, but your legs became numb after 5 minutes😭😭

good puppy fwb!mingyu whimpering pleads against your neck or between your legs for you give him permission to cum while he ruts against the bed sheets 🥺

always having sleepovers with bestie!mingyu. atp you could be another roommate to the minwon household for how often you're just vibing at their place when they arrive home

fwb!mingyu who got caught sniffing your underwear post sex when you went to get him water. you end up stroking his hair with his head in your lap, jerking him off with your underwear around his cock...but you leave him blue balled as a punishment <3 "oh! i'm late to work, see you later after your tour?😘”

while he's on tour, fwb!mingyu won't have phone sex with you, but leaves you voice notes of the pretty noises he makes jerking off as payback <3

ames note: hi hi! this is my first time writing wooooo~ this was definitely self indulgent😅 i just wanna be friends with mingyu! he seems like the most fun guy to hang out with...and to get dicked down by lmao. i hope y'all enjoyed it and are doing well!! i tried for something gender neutral but i'm not sure if i achieved it? feel free to kindly give feedback <3 ς(.-‿-)

author note: do not distribute my work on other platforms without my consent. if you see my writing in places other than this tumblr account, please let me know. my writings are purely fictional fantasises for fun. the people i write about are real human beings and should still be treated as such. please do not take my writings seriously or as truth.

#buntanteen writings #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen headcanons #seventeen drabbles #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt smut #pls kindly let me know if there are any issues!!

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caramelcoloredkiss · 19 days ago

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hello! i saw ur post and im excited to read ur works so i decided to give u a request! hope u dont mind :3

m!reader who is really slim, not to the point he's unhealthy but just think of him having every girl's dream body, and then there's m!reader's bf who wants to see m!reader under all that baggy clothing but doesn't want to be too pushy so he waits until they finally decide to make love and the moment m!reader's bf sees such a heavenly sight, all he wants to mark him inside out!! kinks r up to u but i do would request creampie :3

First request from our lovely anon! Your wish is my command <3

"𝐻𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓉 ٭"

[OC!Malcom x Sub!Male reader]

"You were always avoiding the topic of sex when it came to your boyfriend, but being so stressed over the course of your semester. You just needed something to relieve stress. Luckily your boyfriend is just so happy to give it to you.

Contains: 18+ , sweet -> smutty, body worship, size difference, creampie, praise, insecure+anxiety filled!reader

Let me know if you have any feed back or criticism! Or just how you feel about this~

───────────────────────────

If there were a man that knew how to make you feel loved, it was your boyfriend.

Malcom was infatuated by your very existance. The way you laughed, spoke, and moved— by God it was like you put a curse on him. The smell of your cologne and shampoo had filled his senses; he had always held you close like it was his last.

You knew his love was bigger than anything else, but it always caught you off guard whenever he said it so casually. How were you able to get your hands in a man that had the biggest heart in the world? You weren't so sure.

"It's so unfair!"

You had felt yourself flinch from the sudden declaration; it was your friend, who had been laying on the carpeted ground of the living room in your apartment. She had began to talk about her exe's while you both worked on a document for your college assignment, honestly if you didn't know any better— she probably only came here to vent about more of her failed relationships.

"You seriously wouldn't believe it! The fucking asshole had the audacity to comment about my sex life! Like— if you want pussy that badly go to a prostitute! Or all the other fucking girls who you keep switching between every week!"

She huffed, pressing her face on the pillow she had taken from the sofa to muffle her uncontrollable yelling. Sofie had always been a bit easily agitated, but today was her last straw apparently.

"Why'd you even date him?"

You asked, pausing your typing on your laptop to lean back on the sofa while she rolled around on the floor, kicking her legs in the air. Your friend let out a sigh and took the pillow off her face, she looked extremely tired, did the situation really bother her that much?

"Look man.. He had good dick! But the asshole had something worth bragging and decided it was his whole personality! He was pretty big too so—"

Too much details!

"Okay stop! I don't wanna hear the details of you sex with him."

You shudder at the very thought of it, this girl was shameless, but she was your bestfriend so you couldn't complain about your choices.

"Whateverrr—"

Sofie sat up from the floor and stood up, heading towards your kitchen— your semi-kitchen anyways. She grabbed the caramel pudding that was stashed underneath, it was still so weird how she could just find the snacks Malcom buys you.

" anyways I probably shouldn't complain to you, not when your boyfriend was sent by God apparently. Seriously! He keeps buying you shit, my boyfriends couldn't even buy me flowers!"

"It's because he's nice to me, besides I buy him just as much the amount as he does for me."

Sofie teasingly rolled her eyes and peeled the packaging seal of the pudding, grabbing a spoon to eat.

"Mhm sure. Oh yeah— he dicked you down yet?"

You coughed out loud, choking in your own saliva; caught off guard by her words. Did this girl just wear no filter whenever you were around? Usually she was more shy with people.

"𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘪𝘦! Why are you so sex craved!?—"

"I am not! I just haven't heard much from you about yours, is he that bad?—"

"—well I wouldn't know! "

You both paused, sitting in silence. You didn't mean to say that—it was true but it didn't have to be said!

Closing your laptop, you put it besides you, theirs no way you could work under these way too personal questions.

"Oh, really? I heard Malcolm was pretty good. Did he not want to? Kinda fucked up if so." Sofie said, scooping a spoonful of pudding in the cup to shove in her mouth. Walking back to you to sit on the couch.

You shook your head, it wasn't like he didn't want to have sex with you. It was the fact that you were too scared to even show your body to him, you were slim, yeah it was almost every girls ideal body type— but you didn't even know if it was 𝘩𝘪𝘴. You were already in disbelief by the fact that he even reciprocated feelings for you, sex was the last thing that came into your mind.

But it didn't mean you could avoid the image of his muscular arms caging you while you layed helpless at his mercy, not mentioning the fact that he constantly walked around shirtless in your apartment— You fought your urges every day at that point.

"Well if not, I say you should, we already finished our exams you might as well get some relaxation in your life before our semester is over— we only have to submit a few of our projects left anyways."

You felt your cheeks burn, it was ridiculous. The thought of finally making love to him made you feel completely weak, you weren't even sure if he wanted to have sex with you.

"—He's probably been waiting for you to give permission or something."

You could only hope she was right.

This is embarrassing.

You layed on your bed for what felt like hours, waiting for him.

"Why is he taking so long? Ugh, I might throw up."

Sitting up, you moved from your bed to open your bed side cabinet— you had bought some lube and condoms from the store just a bit earlier, having to go to the counter to purchase the said items made you want to curl up into a ball, for fucks sakes—

Of course the cashier wasn't the only one to witness you buy them!

You were an adult.

You weren't supposed to be ashamed for buying them, or even about sex in general! But you were a virgin, someone who had stayed far away from any form of sexual intimacy for the sake of your own dignity— and now you were offering it to 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

"Calm down, [Name]. If he doesn't want to that's fine, you can just cope with it and move on!"

You felt yourself shaking, dammit you felt pathetic. It wasn't your fault your mom wanted to keep you safe! Maybe this was a bad idea, if he didn't say anything then that probably meant he—

You felt a sudden pressure wrap around your waist, the figure burying it's nose at the crook of you neck.

"Hi baby.. I missed you.."

You made a quick reaction and closed your cabinet, praying he hadn't just seen what you prepared.

"M-Malcom! Hi— did your practice go well?"

Turning your body around to look at him, lifting his face off your neck—you gently caressed his face with incredible amounts of affection. While he had determinely locked his arms around your waist, seemingly needy for your touch.

"It was fine.. Took too long, it was a pain in the ass.. "

You nodded, as he leaned his face against your hand. Malcom had always been a bit clingy when he was exhausted— desperate to touch you and to feel his cold hands on your warm skin.

Malcom was beautiful, he had bronze skin that developed from all the times he bathed underneath the sun, and green eyes that just lit up every time he had something say. His hair was flawless, his sister had always taken care of it; dark brown and with a few strands of his hair framing his face— not to mention the mole underneath his lips. [Name] was desperate to see what else is underneath just his beauty, what would he look like when they were indulging in sinful acts, what would he whisper, what would he do.

—You wanted to know...

But, he looked so tired. Probably desperate to just lay in bed and cuddle, we're you really gonna be selfish enough to take that away from him? You didn't want that, so maybe it was alright to wait a bit longer.

"[Name], I heard from Sofie you wanted to talk to me about something.. "

Malcom whispered, pressing his lips against the palm of your hand while he looked down at you with half lidded eyes, not bothering to break eye contact.

Ah, so Sofie had been out to get you.

"Its— not important, you're probably exhausted right? Let's just go to bed—"

As you were about to pull away from his hold, he tightens his arms. Damn his muscular body!

Malcom was determined to get your words out of you, a tired Malcom wasn't easy to deal with.

"You know I don't like you lying to me, spit it out, hm?"

He kept his body firm and pressed you against his chest, he smelt good, he probably showered before coming here.

"I just— it's nothing."

Malcom sighed, giving you one last look of dissatisfaction. He let's go of your hug, which made you whine a bit, his body was warm! Before sitting down at the edge of your bed, pulling you by your arm to fall on his lap. Fuck, this wasn't the best position for someone who had just been craving to get fucked by the man in front of him. Your face was getting warmer and warmer each time he looked at you, this was gonna be hard.

"Please baby? I just wanna know what's botherin' you.. That's all."

He looked a bit sad, wrapping his arms around you waist once more to pull you closer to him, with your legs in between his hips. This man was seriously not helping you.

You let out a sigh, finally giving up on holding your ground. It wasn't like it was that strong anyways.

"I-Its just that, I noticed how we were both a bit stressed out during the semester.. And it made me think, we hadn't really done much to relieve ourselves... So I thought.. Maybe you wanted to.. "

"Make love?"

You blinked, his eyes were soft, but they looked crazed— like he had been waiting so long for this very moment. It honestly made you feel a bit nervous, you weren't prepared for the reaction he would give.

"Ah— yeah, I wanna make love to you, please.. I wanna feel you." You could die from over heating.

But that seemed to be the words he needed to hear, his lips pulling up to a soft smile.

"You could've just said so, I've been wanting for you.."

Before you could respond, he took your lips.

You held onto his bicep to avoid collapsing into his arms, reciprocating the heated kiss. Your abdomen felt like it was burning, just as you were desperately trying to taste every inch of his mouth. His tongue was dominating, sucking onto yours as your salivas was mixed with the messy kiss, occasional gasps and moans leaving your lips.

"Been waiting..so long— fuck."

"ah.. haa..Malcom—"

He pulled away, before returning for another serving, you could feel your head spin a bit. This much more intense your previous make out sessions.

You pull away this time, the string of saliva showing the previous connection of your lips. The illuminating lamp at the top of your cabinet was the only thing that lit up your otherwise pitch dark room. It has how you could see the look of hunger Malcom gave you, he didn't move his face any farther from just an inch, you could feel his hot breath hit your face. He pressed his lips on your right cheek, giving it a wet kiss before lowering his attention to you other half.

"You're so responsive.. [Name], strip for me, yeah? ."

"I-"

You couldn't believe this, when did Malcom become so blunt.

Despite your thoughts, you grabbed the hem of your sweatshirt, it was pretty big compared to you. If anything all of your clothes were to big for you, hiding your body unintentionally. So when you had pulled it off, Malcom stared. He looked so deeply enamored by how your body was made— how well it was made for him.

"You look so beautiful.. Such a pretty body, been hiding their away from for too long haven't you? [Name]."

He connected his lips to your neck, suckling at your skin as he licked and nipped the same spot, stopping and moving to the next. You let out small moans, which made you bite your lip to silence it, but Malcom didn't seem to appreciate it— pulling his lips away from your awfully sensitive skin.

"Don't do that, I wanna hear all you pretty sounds, I want everyone to know how good you feel.. "

You could only reluctantly nod, and let your whined moans strain— your throat from how intensely Malcom was sucking at your skin.

He lowered his attention each time he successful left a mark, using his calloused hands to rub the side of you waist, lowering his hand to squeeze your ass, which made you bite back a squeal.

"You're so cute [Name], wanna see all of you okay?"

You could only nod again, as he gently pulled you shorts down along with you briefs. Showing the obvious erection that had built up throughout the whole thing.

"Such a cute cock.. "

"H-Hey, stop saying embarrassing things.. "

Malcom let out a chuckle, as he kissed your jaw, letting your clothes fall on the floor. He lifts you up and lays your back on the bed as gently as he could, he supports himself on his knees while pulling his shirt off, throwing it carelessly on the floor along with the others.

"You are so fucking beautiful— [Name]"

He leans down to kiss your stomach, going back up to kiss you cheek. Why was he just so loving?

𝘖𝘩 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

"I-I bought lube, it's in the cabinet, s-so it'll be easier to..you know."

Malcom sat back up and reached his hand to slide open the cabinet.

"Came prepared huh, baby. Want we to stretch you out?"

"Y-Yeah.."

Malcom smiles, grabbing the tube of lube and squeezing a generous amount on his hand, spreading it throughout his fingers.

"Gonna slide it in okay?"

"O-okay"

He leans back down to hold you and just as he promised, he slid one of his finger in—fuck his finger was bigger than you thought.

"Hm.. You tried stretch yourself out.."

You nodded, burrying your face in his shoulder while he pumped his finger in and out of your hole.

"M' fingers weren't—ah!— e-enough.."

"You did good, I'll do the rest.."

You gasped and wrapped you hands around his torso, your nails piercing at his back, but he didn't seem to mind, only inserting a second finger in to thrust in your hole. The cold lube and his thick fingers were going to kill you, this was too much of a combination.

Malcom was a lot bigger than you thought, he was practically hiding your body from just how broad his shoulders were, not to mention the tent in his sweatpants weren't going unnoticed by just how— big it was..

"Aah—! f-fuck Mal— why are your fingers so big!?"

You screamed, feeling practically all three of his finger simultaneously out thrusting in and out of your hole. This was unfair, you were going to cum untouched at this point!

"You're just small, baby. S'not my fault you're so reactive.." He grinned, his canines displaying. This bastard!

"You—ahh!— wha—"

He hit your spot, and he didn't stop—curling his fingers to press your prostate, which just made you cry out a moan, your toes curling from the unexpected pleasure. This was too much.

He kept going, pumping his fingers and putting pressure on your prostate.

"M-Mal I'm gonna!—"

You came, squirts of white sticky cum came out the tip of your cock, you were holding on for so long. But Malcom looked satisfied, his smile never faltering as he kissed your tear filled eyes, licking away the salty water.

"You did so well baby, m' gonna fill you up now alright?—you look so pretty while cumming."

He pulled his fingers out of your hole, much to your disappointment. Malcom slid his sweatpants off along with his boxers, pumping his cock a few times before grabbing a pack of condom in your cabinet.

He was big, it was obvious, you knew it was going to be possible— but seeing it is leaving you speeches.

"Like what you see? It's all yours honey."

Malcom tears the condom with his teeth, it was hot. You weren't even going to lie about that, but seeing how he was rolling the condom on his cock made you feel dissapointed— you wanted to feel everything, his cock and his cum. You wanted to know how much he could shove inside you before it was too much.

"Ah... C-Can you not wear the condom?"

He looked back with a bit of confusion.

"Hm? Didn't you but this..?"

"Y-Yeah but, i— I want you to fill me."

Something seemed to have snapped inside of Malcom, he let out a small chuckle and dove back to your lips, giving it a rushed kiss.

"I'll fill you to the brim, don't worry baby.. "

He pulls the condom out his cock, throwing it the the side in favor of lining his leaking tip at your gaping hole. Malcom grabbed your thighs and pushed your knees to your chest, letting your cock lay pathetically on your stomach. You sucked in a deep breath as he slowly pushed his cock in.

You let out a shrilled moan, throwing your head back against the sheets of the bed while Malcom had leaned to connect your lips to his, trying to distract you from the hissing pain that was your asshole.

"Relax baby, it'll be in soon.. "

He kept kissing your lips, as you had wrapped your arms round his shoulders, clawing at his back. You would feel bad if it weren't for the incredible feeling of his cock filling your body, it was big—so big.

After a few minutes, you could Malcom's movements stop.

"It's in— m'gonna move now, alright baby?"

"haa—o-okay.."

Malcom's thrust were slow at first, which made you gasp and moan whenever he penetrated in. After a while his pace began quicker, making his cock go deeper and deeper in you.

"S-Shit, you're tight— fuck, you feel heavenly."

You could only cry out, as his cock moved deeper in, feeling every push that rush all the way to your throat. Both of you sweating, panting, and moaning about how good it felt.

His eyes glued onto yours, never breaking eye contact, his hair sticking slightly to his face as he caged you beneath his arms, this was like a fantasy. His cock was moving in and out as he whispered praises to you.

"You're so beautiful, fuck."

And—

"C-can't believe—shit— you were hiding such a sexy body away from me, hun. Not gonna stop until your filled and full, alright?—"

This bastard, acting like he could just say shit like that without making your heart drum. Malcom had kept thrusting his hips, chasing his climax just as much you craved to be stuffed full of his cum.

After a few more thrusting he came, strings of his thick warm cum filling you— to the point where it leaked out of you. But Malcom kept this thrusting, shoving his cum inside whilst latching his lips into yours.

Along with his cum, you came with him, your cum spraying pathetically on your stomach as it went limp.

And finally— he stops, using his cock to plug his cum inside, preventing it to spill out of you. You were full, the feeling of the warm liquid sitting inside your hole as his cock remained inside, you would die from this if you could.

You were both left panting, trying to catch your breath before he grins back down at you.

"How about another round, baby?"

You sipped the mug of coffee that your boyfriend had left you, even leaving a note as a good morning. He had only left a bit ago but he was planning to stay inside the dorm with you to have a date night. You couldn't wait.

A sudden ringing interrupted your thoughts, you checked to see your phone— it was Sofie.

"I should probably thank her.. "

You answered the call and pressed your phone to your ear.

"Yo, [Name]! Hopefully your fuck session went well, I heard it all the way next door! "

"Sofie I'm going to fucking kill you."

✩꙳I hope you enjoyed that! I had never wrote sex scenes before so I hope I did well~

-> Feel free to request more! Be as detailed as you'd like.

#caramelcoloredkiss -> Fics/Drabbles #bottom male reader #x male reader #male reader #sub male reader #oc x male reader #amab reader #oc x reader

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softle0 · 5 months ago

Text

A little message for mostly YouTube builders but y’all in general, I hope I’m not being too rough but..

I know it’s been just a couple of days but guys what you mean when you say you were expecting more “Mexican” style furniture in the new ep? 😭😭 y’all don’t expect us to have art deco or modern stuff? Like seriously, what do you guys want 😂 We all Mexican simmers think this new pack is very accurate, you can even ask the simmers that worked in the official builds 🤷🏻‍♀️

Y’all really falling over the Americanized cliché of Mexico fr, this pack is inspired in Mexico City. We are a city, the population is like 24million, we’re a really big city 💀 please leave your “villas” and “haciendas” to oasis springs or sol del valey.

Please I beg you to not come and say “oh this is not giving Mexico” cause clearly you don’t know what are you talking about, be educated fr. I said it before and I’m gonna keep talking about it; But the architectural limitations in Mexico are pretty much non-existent. We probably have every single architectural style you can think about. Modern, post-modern, brutalist, art deco, mid century, colonial, Romanesque, gothic among others, probably even Tudor 😭 so you coming and expecting us to only have the villas or colorful haciendas fiesta salsa talcos it really hurts me as Mexican 😂

I’m not hating against them, I love them and as I said we have all types of places so keep doing them if you want but that’s not really common in Mexico City. So why y’all keep going with the same villas or just straight boxes builds 😭 please do more research over than using only Pinterest please, is really not that hard 🙏🏻 there’s a lot of fellow Mexican simmers, there’s google, google maps, you can even do a research of Mexico City in airbnb 😭😭 likeeee there’s a ton of ways to get information really…. You can really step up your building game if you only do a proper research. As I’ve seen a lot of you do for other worlds, why not taking the time for Mexico? Why y’all don’t respect us as much as other cultures?:(

And I know and I understand y’all probably won’t be 100% accurate if you’re not Mexicans but that doesn’t mean you can build a Los Angeles Spanish style of home and get away with it by saying “sorry if is not that accurate” 😭 cause you’re not even trying :( Mind you I been working on a uk inspired save when I never been outside my country other than some places in Canada and Florida and I’m still doing very realistic builds just by doing some research. And I’m 100% sure almost every other realistic builder is in the same situation.

Y’all are amazing and you’re so creative, I love that about the community and I know y’all can do wonderful things if doing a really small but proper research!

And next time you wanna talk about if something is giving or not Mexican at least be educated before talking about something you don’t know, it’s honestly very disrespectful. Y’all are better than that and please don’t take this as an offense, this is more like constructive criticism. I know y’all not doing this on purpose, this is just based on ignorance which is nothing bad, you can always learn something new!🥺 please do better!!

#probably nobody cares about this but this is something very important to me so I wanted to say it anyway:(#ts4 #lovestruck ep

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https-milo · 4 months ago

Note

PLEASEEEEE!!! BAKUGO DATING INSTAGRAM!!! PLEASSEEEEEEE🙏🏻🙏🏻

I HEAR YOUUUUUUUUU!!! tysm for the request :DD

DATING KATSUKI BAKUGO INSTAGRAM!

details!

instagram posts w/ comments while dating Katsuki Bakugo!

a/n OBVIOUSLY these are just pictures off of pinterest, reader can be however you imagine!

ooc bakugo (i choose joy and whimsy)

main m. list / instagram m. list

fairy.y/n · 15w ⭐ close friends

21 likes Liked by dynamight, pinkie, uravity.ou, izudeku

fairy.y/n me balling my eyes out cause my boyfriend cheated on me again :( (he said he'd stop after the last time I caught him.)

pinkie alright! murder party at Y/n-chan's bfs!! fairy.y/n pinkie its okay :( no need to murder him

izudeku im so sorry, Y/n. i hope you're okay and please let me know if you need anything fairy.y/n izudeku thank you, izuku :)

dynamight yeah you aint gonna hold me back from beating his ass this time. fairy.y/n dynamight katsss no. its okay, seriously dynamight fairy.y/n no idiot its not okay cuz he's cheated on your stupid ass 4 fucking times and you keep going back to him. every time you tell me not to beat the shit outta him but that bitch deserves it. fairy.y/n dynamight I know, I know but its so hard to leave him :( I don't get why he doesn't love me dynamight fairy.y/n you're such a dumbass. you need so much better than that sorry excuse of a boy. fairy.y/n dynamight idk if there is anyone better :(

fairy.y/n · 13w ⭐ close friends

19 likes Liked by dynamight, pinkie, uravity.ou, izudeku

fairy.y/n bf broke up with me, but luckily kats was able to distract me from feeling too bad <3 who needs cheaters anyways?!?!

dynamight making me look soft and for what... I'll kill you bastard fairy.y/n dynamight hmm somehow I doubt that. dynamight fairy.y/n lets go rn. fairy.y/n dynamight its past your bedtime :// fairy.y/n fairy.y/n WAIT IS THAT YOU STOMPING DOWN THE HALL????? fairy.y/n fairy.y/n KATS I WAS KIDDING. PLEASE!!!

pinkie bakugo having a heart was not on my bingo list urvaity.ou pinkie i think y/n-chan is an exception to his "GRRRR I HATE EVERYONE DIE BASTARDS!" you know? pinkie uravity.ou ugh ikkk you should see them in the gc 🤢🤢🤢 fairy.y/n pinkie we're literally normal in the gc :[ pinkie fairy.y/n hmmmmm I don't think so!! i sense a lot of flirting dynamight pinkie I'll fucking kill you fairy.y/n dynamight you're literally making me popcorn rn... you're not killing anyone dynamight fairy.y/n I hope you choke on a kernel.

dynamight · 12w

1.6k likes Liked by fairy.y/n, redriot, pinkie, serophane, izudeku

dynamight dumbass made me post this or wtv.

Tagged: fairy.y/n

fairy.y/n guys i literally WIPED the floor with him! redriot fairy.y/n didn't he punch you through a wall... fairy.y/n redriot next question, please!! :DD dynamight redriot her quirk stopped her from going through it. redriot dynamight uh yeah but the wall still cracked fairy.y/n redriot NEXT. QUESTION.

pinkie "im going to murder you!!" x "nuh uh." fairy.y/n pinkie I think these are direct quotes, actually

yourexboyfriend bro why the hell are you hanging out with her 😭😭 did the little loser need a guard dog after I broke her heart? 🥺 dynamight yourexboyfriend meet me outside rn. you're abouta need a guard dog after running your mouth like that 🫵🤣 fairy.y/n dynamight kats srsly don't worry ab it. I don't want you getting in trouble defending me dynamight fairy.y/n I wanna tho. yourexboyfriend omw to your dorm building rn, don't bother running.

fairy.y/n · 12w ⭐ close friends

20 likes Liked by dynamight, redriot, pinkie, denkami, jiroka

fairy.y/n his dumbass got bruised knuckles for beating up trash :(

pinkie whooo? 👀 uravity.ou pinkie i think you know...

dynamight the other guy looks way worse. fucking pos couldn't even land a hit on me. fairy.y/n dynamight well he's in the management course... I don't think they go over fighting tactics over there dynamight fairy.y/n whatever. it doesn't matter. either way, I wasn't gonna let him fw my girl like that. fairy.y/n dynamight YOUR GIRL??? pinkie dynamight YOUR GIRL????????? uravity.ou dynamight YOUR GIRL???? izudeku dynamight YOUR GIRL? jiroka dynamight YOUR GIRL??? dynamight OH MY FUCKING GOD YOU DAMN EXTRAS. I GET IT. STFU. fairy.y/n dynamight come to my dorm 😁😁 dynamight fairy.y/n ...omw.

redriot so manly...

dynamight · 10w

1.9k likes Liked by fairy.y/n, pinkie, redriot, serophane, shotodo

dynamight took her dumbass out on a date and she repays me by kicking my back.

fairy.y/n I DO NOT WANNA HEAR ITTTTT!! YOU LITERALLY TURNED AROUND AND PUSHED ME AFTERWARD 🖕🖕🖕 dynamight y/n.fairy yapyapyap fairy.y/n dynamight YOU INITIATED A FIGHT WITH ME AND A PRO HAD TO SEPARATE US. dynamight fairy.y/n I wasn't gonna actually hurt you fairy.y/n dynamight I know baby!! your love language is play fighting >:D there's defo a difference when you "fight" me and when you fight someone else dynamight fairy.y/n stfu. come cook some food with me. fairy.y/n dynamight comingggg (*cough* quality time *cough*)

pinkie they match each other's violent freak <3 fairy.y/n pinkie sometimes I'm overcome with so much joy I cant help but to punch him =^-^= dynnamight pinkie fuck off raccoon eyes.

serophane ayyyyy gg bakugo denkami serophane bakugo with the angry rizz 🙏🙏 dynamight denkami ill kill you both.

uravity.ou you better treat the loml right 😤😤 fairy.y/n uravity.ou dw ocha no man shall ever walk over me again 😤😤 (but I'm not at all worried with Kats) uravity.ou fairy.y/n AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Thank you so much for reading <3

533 notes · View notes

reidrum · 7 months ago

Text

carry the weight of you | s.r

A/N: i had this posted on an old blog but here's this, idk if i like it but it's also one of my first fics so if lemme know if you have thoughts <3

cw: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, reader is sad, depression ?, spencer is a cutie who just wants to love, can be read as gn!reader

wc: 1.8k

_______________________________________________

it was supposed to be a routine case. well, not a routine case. those don’t really exist in the bau, but one that had a clear MO and decent enough leads that garcia could easily use to find the unsub. it wasn’t even a case that was especially creepy in nature, lord knows those give the whole bureau nightmares for days.

so why did you feel this way?

you were relatively new to the team—having one year under your belt to your near decades experienced colleagues. but you had rightfully earned your spot in the bau, and you deserved to be there.

but right now you had no energy to believe that. the ache in your chest was ever present from your younger days, courtesy of the circumstances from your upbringing, and you should’ve expected that joining the fbi would’ve only made it heavier. you bared it nonetheless because that’s what you were taught to do. you felt beaten down by the last few days, and just couldn’t wait to get back home and crawl into your bed.

the team had wrapped up the case, and you all were on the jet flying back home to the district. sat next to the ever observant dr. reid, he noticed your glazed eyes and distant aura exuding from you.

“you okay?” he bumps your shoulder bringing you out of your trance.

“i’m fine, don’t worry about me.” you replied curtly and tried to fold into the crevice between the seat and the walls of the plane.

“bold of you to lie to a profiler while on a plane full of profiles,” he chuckled lightly, “seriously, you look troubled. are you sure you don’t wanna play honesty hour right now?”

“spence, i’m okay, I promise.” you tried your best at a genuine smile that was as see through as a windexed window. he returned it with his own thin lipped smile and left you be.

were you okay? you don’t even know how long you’ve felt like this. small, insignificant, nothing. you do great work at your job, tarnishing evil and saving lives. but you can’t help but find it ironic that it’s your own mind working against you that seems to be your demise.

the jet landed around midnight and the team shuffled through the bullpen to gather their belongings before going home. everyone offered their goodbyes and goodnights and spencer was waiting for you by the door. you both lived in the same apartment building, only because when you first moved to quantico you had no one and knew no one. spencer took it upon himself to help you out, being the newest young rookie on the team, a position he was all too familiar with. his next door neighbor had moved out for an immediate job offer and was looking for a subletter and lo and behold, spencer had become your best friend.

in the few months that you were getting accustomed to the area spencer invited you over for nightly chess games and doctor who marathons. morgan always teased the two of you saying you should be going out on the town having fun only young people can have, and spencer would blush and stammer something out but you would have the brightest smile and look at him saying they were the most fun you’ve had.

so he was surprised to say the least when those nights started to become far and few. you would politely decline and spencer would assume you’d finally listened to morgan and got better plans. but he could hear the patter of your footsteps and the occasional expletive from when you’d hit a table corner and wondered what he did to make you recluse yourself again.

spencer was a profiler after all, mix that with being your closest friend and he could pinpoint the moments you started to change. you’d started making less jokes, even during moments where the team would pause and wait for a little quip from you but hear nothing. you were harder to gain attention from, usually needing three or four calls to get you to even look up. and he just saw you distancing yourself, almost like you didn’t want anyone to perceive you.

spencer loved you. he wouldn’t say it out loud or admit to anyone but point blank he loved you. he felt understood in a way that no one else made him feel. you were kind, smart, funny, and the empathy you held for others was enough to make him tear up. you were there for him when maeve died, letting him cry on your shoulder, and as fucked up as it sounds he realized he loved you in those moments leaking tears onto the stomach of your sweater.

so here stood spencer in front of your desk, “you heading home?” you nodded, “mind if i ride with you? i don’t feel like taking the metro this late.”

“okay, let’s go.”

the walk to your car was silent, and somehow the ride back to your apartment complex was even more silent. walking up the stairs to your apartment doors, you turn the key and step in when spencer goes, “hey actually i think i left my book at your place do you mind if i just look for it really quick?”

you stared at him blankly. you just wanted to be alone and he wants to get his book now? unbeknownst to you spencer was desperate to get to the bottom of your melancholia, and needed any in he could find right now to get there.

nonetheless you nodded your head and left the door open behind you so he could walk in. you dropped your bags and shoes at the front door and trudged through your apartment to your kitchen to put tea on the kettle. you softly called out to him, “do you want a cup of tea?”

“i’d love a cup.” he says sitting on your couch.

you’re fussing around the kitchen getting two mugs out— one doctor who and one snoopy mug. you fill the doctor who one up and add a lemon slice and turn around grabbing your snoopy mug. when you turn back towards the kettle you hit the corner of the island table and watch as your favorite mug drops and shatters into millions of pieces.

when they say a straw is what breaks the camel’s back you fully understand what they mean now because how are you about to lose all your shit over a snoopy mug. you don’t even make an effort to move, just staring at the broken pieces on the floor, trying to make sense of them like a kid pointing out cloud shapes. it’s like you can see the pieces molding into the demons that keep you up at night, the thoughts of uselessness and lethargy personifying in front of you.

spencer has to call your name three times before you finally move your eyes to meet his. you can see his lips moving but you can’t hear him, his hands are out as if he’s telling you to stay put oh wait he is. you wait as he finds your dustpan and broom and brushes up the remains into the trashcan. he slowly approaches you and maneuvers you towards the living room where you sit still glossy eyed and trembling.

he sits down next to you and places a hand on your bouncing knee to soothe it, “why won’t you talk to me?”

you shake your head, “it’s nothing spence, it’s not a big deal i can buy a new mug.” push it down.

“not that, something’s not right. and i want to help. will you let me help you?”

you feel the tears making their way up your face to make their grand exit, and you hold on to last bit of resolve you can as you shakily breathe, “i-, i can’t, it’s stupid and we see so much worse stuff so i have to keep it together and i am but today was just-“ you abruptly got up to get water from the kitchen before finishing your sentence. grabbing a glass from the cupboard, filling it up at the sink, and gulping it down with shaky hands. you set the glass down and placed your hands on the cool counter in an attempt to tether yourself to some string of reality that was left. you couldn’t burden him. you wouldn’t.

spencer gives you a minute alone before rising from the couch and walking into the kitchen. he approaches you slowly from behind, mirroring his hands on top of yours, entrapping you in his warm embrace. “i think you’re carrying so much,” he whispers gently in your ear, “you don’t have to do it by yourself. it’s okay to not be okay.”

the tears win and start streaming down your face silently. spencer continues, “what we do, it’s hard. we all have ways of not letting it get to us. rossi and his cigars, hotch and jack, garcia and her tchotchkes, i mean even emily with her sin city weekends.” you let out a wet laugh in response.

spencer doubles down and intertwines his fingers with yours, “my point is, you are not alone. i am here. let me carry some of it for you, please.”

letting out a soft sob you twist in his arms and burrow yourself into his sweatered chest. this was a new feeling for you, letting someone in to see the horrors that you worked so hard to suppress. why would anyone want to brave that journey? surely you weren’t worth the effort.

but as spencer tightened his arms around you, rubbing his hands soothingly down your back and placing a kiss at the crown of your head, you felt that even if the walls of your resolve came crumbling down that spencer would be there to catch as much as he could. and that was enough.

“thank you,” you mumbled tearily incoherent.

“i will always be here for you, no need to thank me sweetheart.”

his kindness overwhelmed you. how could someone who sees so much darkness and been through so much still hold the level of kindness he does?

you lifted your head slightly as his hand came up to cradle the back of your head, “so, what do you have?”

he hummed quizzically in response. you continued, “you said everyone has ways of getting through it, what’s yours?”

“it’s you,” spencer softly says with the most tender loving look in his eyes, smoothing your hair back as he looks down at you in his arms, “it’s always been you.”

your eyes welled up even more and squeezed him tighter if it were even possible. spencer had you. and now you had spencer.

the next day you show up to work, a snoopy mug with a gift bow sits on your desk.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert

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ddejavvu · 11 months ago

Note

I love your best friend with no boundaries James, and I was wondering if you could do one where James and reader are having their regularly scheduled mid-day naps, and Sirius and Remus walk into the dorm to find James just humping reader while they’re asleep? Maybe James and reader wake up to the GASP of horror from Sirius after his not so innocent eyes witness “straight up porn in their shared dorm where Peter of all people could witness”

I love all your works and was wondering if I could be marked as 😻anon? I’m the person who requested the bsf Steve imagine and I’m 100% gonna request something again because you’re perfect and I just wanna kiss you on the mouth🫶🏻🫶🏻

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Sirius considers himself James's best friend- no, brother, but he's not afraid to whack the man upside the head when he finds James grinding on you in his sleep.

"You-! Nasty-! Fucker-!" He bullies James awake, appreciating the much calmer, kinder way that Remus rouses you, tugging you away from James on the bed and murmuring that your nap is over. You blink your eyes open serenely, and James's shoot wide in pain as Sirius assaults him.

"What the fuck? Agh- Sirius! I know you're mad that I've got the better potions grade, but killing me won't help!"

"This isn't about potions, Potter," Sirius scoffs, "But I am thinking about tossing you in a hot cauldron. You were- eeugh, you were humping her, you animal!"

Your brows are furrowed and your blinks are bleary, but your brain catches up with the help of Remus's hands where they trace soothing circles on your back.

"Oh," You mumble groggily, as James groans with quickly reddening cheeks, "Uh- s'alright, Jamie."

Remus's hand stills on your back, but James and Sirius join in a fused indignant-confused "What?"

"S'just natural I guess," You shrug, "I dunno, I haven't- er, got one. But it was an accident, Jamie, you were asleep. It's alright."

James’s cheeks are still plenty rouged, but he nods sleepily at your forgiveness, relieved that he's not being hit by two people instead of only one.

"Yeah, thanks bird," He flops back down onto the mattress, letting out a sigh heavily infused with relief, "Wouldn't do it on purpose, y'know. Not while you're sleeping, that's- that's pervy."

"Some people like pervy," You hum, settling back into your own position in James's bed, though he's no longer curled around you. Sirius watches as you knock your hand against his own, "Sirius thinks I'm a perv."

"You're both pervs," Sirius grimaces, his lip curled in distaste as Remus stands from James's bedside, "Seriously, he eats off of your spoons, you've seen his dick, he's been grinding all over your ass - if you don't get a marriage license soon you're going to be very unpopular with the traditional crowd."

James turns towards you with a gasp, his eyes shining just the same as his grin does, "We could get married!"

"We should," You laugh, "And we could get a flat, and we could have your mother over for dinner every Tuesday."

"That would work." He nods, fully settled back into the pillows from Sirius's disturbance, "She loves you. And she's free Tuesday nights - her knitting circle ends at three."

"I know that," You scoff, barely biting back an overexaggerated eye roll, "James, I write your mother once a week. I know when her knitting circle is."

"You write my mum?" He rears back, momentarily confused, "She's never told me that!"

"Of course she hasn't," You snicker, "Because if you'd known, you would have stopped me from telling her how many times you get detention every week, and you'd want to share the sweets she sends me in exchange for the intel."

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #james potter one shot #james potter one-shot #james potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter hcs #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter dialogue #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

atomicami · 1 year ago

Text

vengeance.

roommate!abby anderson x fem!reader

- summary: you’re tired of dealing with your boyfriend’s awful habits. when he ends up crossing the line with you one day, you decide to get back at him, and your not-so-innocent roommate has the perfect way to do it.

- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, reader and abby are roommates, reader has a shitty boyfriend, slight mentions of alcohol consumption and partying, infidelity/cheating, sex tape/amateur porn, kinda roughdom!abby, strap usage (r!receiving), abby referring to the strap as her cock, slight choking, daddy kink, abby hits it from the back, oral & fingering (r!receiving), pussy slapping, squirting, aftercare at the end ofc

- author’s note: hi everyone!! so i decided to do my very first collab with none other than the amazingly talented @whore4abby, i’m so grateful to have done this with you!!

also, consider this fic as our 1k special from us to you. thank you so much for all the love and support you’ve given to the both of us 🤍 we hope you enjoy it!!

you don’t really know how you got yourself to this point.

well, you do, actually…but you didn’t know how this could have possibly escalated so fast.

it was just a silly little conversation at first. you were simply venting to your roommate, abby about your boyfriend for what was probably the millionth time now.

“ugh, i just can’t believe him!” you exclaimed to her as you frantically paced around your room. “i told him to make the best impression to meet my parents last weekend and what does he do?! he shows up to the restaurant thirty minutes late smelling like alcohol. how can he be so…so inconsiderate?!”

you’ve been in an on-again, off-again relationship with your boyfriend for about a year now. everything went fine with the two of you at first, but now it somehow just progressed to where you both can’t even make it a week without breaking up.

abby is sat at the foot of your bed, nodding in acknowledgement as you continued to ramble to her about your asshole boyfriend. you truly couldn’t ask for a better friend like her to listen to all of your problems about this, because unlike abby, you knew that anyone else you might know couldn’t withstand having to hear about the same person every damn day of the week.

“i seriously think i’m gonna break up with him now, for good this time.” you tell her with confidence.

abby lets out a sigh and rolls her eyes at your statement. “isn’t that what you said the last fifteen times though?” she asked, further manspreading on your bed before pulling her phone out of her pocket to scroll through it.

“i know, i know,” you said, continuing to pace around your room. “he’s done so much stupid shit lately, but this is honestly the final straw for me. who knows how much worse he could get if i—“

“hey, um…you might wanna see this.” abby says, showing you her phone screen. “isn’t that him?”

“what? what are you—“ your words drift off for a moment. you take a step towards her to take a closer look at her phone. it was an instagram story that her friend manny had posted, containing a video of some frat party happening right now and you could visibly see a girl grinding and making out with your boyfriend, clear as day.

now that was really the last straw for you.

“that asshole…” you mutter quietly to yourself as you watched the story again.

to be honest, you weren’t even that upset about it. well, you were, but not to where you’d be in tears crying over him. but rather, you had an urge to try to get back at him somehow. you wanted to retaliate against him. you wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.

you wanted to give him vengeance.

“i seriously can’t believe him right now,” you tell abby again as you hand the phone back to her. “you know, i’m not even upset that he cheated on me, i just…” you pause for a moment to take a deep breath. “i just wish i could get back at him, give him some sort of payback you know?”

“yeah, i get you.” abby replies before looking back down at her phone. “you know…i think i might have an idea to get back at him…show that asshole what he’s missing…” she said, flipping her phone around to eye at the camera for a moment before looking back up at you.

“really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity as you took another step towards her. “i’m down for whatever, what did you have in mind?”

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

and that’s how you got to where you were now, as if it had happened in a matter of seconds.

“c’mon, baby… look at the camera for me.” abby murmured to you from behind.

you laid at the center of your bed, bare body sprawled out with your ass up and abby’s thick, black strap nestled deep inside your wet cunt.

you didn’t want to admit it, but the stretch that abby’s cock had in you was overbearing. you really thought you’d take it, you told her so yourself. but now that you were feeling every single inch inside you, from base to tip—you were very, very wrong. you’re trying as best as you can to follow abby’s commands, but the immense length and girth of her strap has you feeling dizzy.

one of her hands reaches down under your stomach and makes its way up to your neck. “you really want me to repeat myself right now, princess?” she says in a firm tone, keeping her grip on your neck. “i said, look at the camera for me.”

“oh, fuck—“ you whimper to yourself as chills start to go through your spine. your whole body is fucking trembling and abby still has yet to move her cock inside you.

you try to lift your head up, looking straight into the camera on abby’s phone that was currently propped up in front of the two of you, the most dumbfounded expression was stricken on your face at the moment. you were already so cockdrunk and it clearly shows.

“atta girl…would you look at that?” abby says, looking into the camera with you as well. “see how pretty your girlfriend looks on my cock? she’s already drunk and i haven’t even started moving yet…not so bad for a girl if i do say so myself.” she continues narrating into the camera. “i’ll show you how it’s really done, yeah?”

and with that she began to start moving, painfully slow to say the least. you felt her hand let go of its grip on your neck and move to your hip, gripping it tightly as she kept slowly thrusting her cock inside you.

“you like that, princess? like how my cock feels inside you?” she asks in between her thrusts.

you end up mumbling something into the sheets, and abby could’ve sworn that you were calling her a name. her hand quickly returns back to your neck, lifting you up and pulling you back towards her as she kept her cock inside you. “what did you just call me? tell me what you just said.” she says in a stern tone, slowly tightening her grip on your neck.

“f-feels so good, d-daddy…” you slur out to her, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the tip of the strap gently presses against your g spot.

the smirk on abby’s face grew wider as she heard you call her that name. it was like music to her ears, and she couldn’t help but play along with it. “yeah? does it feel good, princess? does daddy’s cock feel good inside that little pussy of yours?” she asks, receiving a whiny nod from you in response.

abby looks into the camera and lets out a quiet groan at the sight of the two of you on her phone screen. “oh fuck, you’re not wrong…let’s take a closer look there, shall we?” she says, keeping your body up against hers with one hand as she moves forward and grabs her phone with the other. you look down as she brings the front camera down to both of your lower bodies where the strap was connecting it. now keeping her bicep firm on your upper body, she snakes her hand down to your gushing pussy, spreading its puffy lips open with two fingers in front of the camera.

“would you look at that…” she murmurs, bringing the camera closer. “that pussy’s practically crying all over my cock. does he ever get you this wet, princess?”

“n-no…” you whine out, shaking your head. “he doesn’t…”

“oh, poor thing…” she murmurs from behind, reaching down to rub your throbbing clit. “seems like you need daddy to take care of you, yeah?”

“y-yes, daddy, please…n-need you to fuck me…”

abby gently lowers you back down onto your bed before setting her phone back to its original spot, screen still fixed on the both of you. she places a hand onto each of your hips, gripping them tightly as she begins to slowly thrust her cock into your pussy.

as abby began to fuck you, you were now buried into the sheets again, releasing muffled moans and whines with every thrust of abby’s hips. in that moment, your boyfriend, and all of the fights and encounters you’ve had with him were the last things on your mind. you didn’t care about him. you didn’t even care about the video, knowing that he’ll be watching it soon. all that was on your mind now was abby and the large piece of black silicone stretching you open.

“does that feel good, baby?” she asks, slowly speeding up her pace. “c’mon baby, why don’t you tell him how it feels?”

you muster up the energy to at least turn your head to the side to respond. “f-feels amazing, daddy…b-best cock i’ve ever had…” you slur back to her, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as you fist the sheets tightly.

“you hear that?” she says into the camera. “it’s not even real, yet it’s the best cock she’s ever had…bet it’s bigger than whatever you have going on down there too…”

you continue to whine into the sheets, weakly pushing your hips back against abby’s cock as a sign for her to speed it up. “f-faster daddy…p-please…” you whine out to her.

abby looks back down to what was below her, that same smirk growing onto her freckled face once again. “would you look at that, she’s already so eager for more…” she murmurs to herself, tightening her grip onto your hips as she began to thrust into you faster than before.

“oh f-f-fuck—“ you moan out, turning your head back to see her and watching her smirk get bigger again as she admires your drunk, fucked out expression. “don’t look at me now…” she tells you before pointing at her phone. “look at the camera. look at him. tell him how good i’m fucking you.”

despite how heavy your eyelids were getting, you try to keep your vision straight, looking into the camera for as long as you could. “s-s-she’s fucking me s-so good…b-better than y-you…” you slur out into the camera before letting your head drop back down into the sheets.

“you hear that? i’m a better fuck to her than you’ll ever be.” she narrates to the camera, still continuing her fast thrusts inside you. “can’t believe you’re letting a girl beat you at your own game, man.”

it didn’t take long for that feeling to build up inside you. abby had only been fucking you for less than five minutes, and you were already about to cum now.

“a-abby, fuck—g-gonna cum n-now…” you whimper out to her, bringing a trembling hand to hold hers from behind. abby instantly swats your hand away and brings her hand down to your ass to slap it, the sting causing you to flinch a bit. “that’s not my name, princess. you wanna try that again?” she asks you, still not stopping her fast pace.

“fuck, daddy!” you exclaimed, tightening your grip on the sheets to stabilize yourself. “p-please daddy…n-need to cum so bad…”

“there we go, that sounds better now…” she replies, looking back to the camera before back down at you. “go ahead, babygirl…cum for daddy.”

your grip gets even tighter on the sheets, and your cunt begins to clench down hard on the strap before cumming with a loud muffled moan, completely coating abby’s black strap with your release.

“holy fuck…” abby groans out from behind, now slowing down her pace. without pulling out just yet, she leans over to grab her phone, stopping the video and flipping the camera to the back to record a new one. “would you look at that…” she murmurs, zooming in on your lower body, particularly on the white ring that was being formed on her strap.

she then points the camera to the very back of you where your pussy was before slowly pulling her strap out of your fucked out cunt. abby lets out another groan as she watches your pussy clench and spill out your thick release, quickly running two of her fingers over it to pick it up. you whimper and whine due to the sensitivity from her thick fingertips, but you still oblige and let her do it.

“look how fucking good this pussy looks…” abby murmurs to the camera. “you know, i heard her tell me that you refuse to eat her out…” she says, pausing for a moment to suck her fingers clean before continuing. “you’re definitely a fucking idiot, to say the least. who wouldn’t want to get a taste of this sweet girl?”

you hear abby stop the recording on her phone, letting out a breath of relief as you set the rest of your body back down onto the bed. you’re already fucked out as is, and you feel the slumber slowly starting to take over you.

however, you didn’t get to have much of it now that abby has shaken you awake again. “lie back on the bed, i’m not done with you just yet.”

“w-what?” you say weakly, fully blinking your eyes open. “i-isn’t that one enough already?” you ask, pointing to her phone.

abby shakes her head in response. “nope, we still have one more video to make…and you’re holding the camera this time.”

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

you take the phone into your shaky hands, almost dropping it in the process before steadying it, abby's eyes practically burning through the camera lens as you angle your phone to film her between your legs, she slaps her hand against your folds and you whine out her name, "keep it fuckin’ steady, you hear me?"

your grip tightens on the phone and you try to keep it as steady as possible as she connects her warm mouth onto your clit, flicking her tongue up and down it a couple times, before drawing back and looking into the camera. "you see what you're missing out on, huh?" she tsks and shakes her head slightly. you draw your bottom lip between your teeth as she sinks back between your legs.

she presses her tongue to your sensitive folds as she messily kisses and licks at your pussy, groaning as she tastes you. her fingertips find your clit, rubbing circles over it as she slurps up your juices. the phone starts to slip from your grasp and abby shakes her head mockingly, slapping her hand straight down onto your pussy, fingertips smacking at your clit cruelly. "i'm not telling you again, keep that camera on me or imma keep slapping this pussy." she drawls, voice low and demanding as her gaze shifts from the camera lens to look straight into your half-lidded eyes. her stern tone has you nodding your head immediately in fear of another sharp slap.

her fingers start to slide into your entrance, slick squelching around them as she thrusts them in and out. her lips move up to suck at your swollen clit, with more purpose this time around as she feels you clenching around her fingers. "lemme hear you baby. c'mon, let it out. let him hear how good i'm making you feel." she whispers, thrusting her fingers in and out faster. she lifts her head and smirks up at you, clearly waiting for you to cum for her.

your back arches up into her and her free hand slides between your legs, roughly rubbing your wet folds as her tongue flutters over your clit, bringing you over the edge. your thighs tremble as they clamp around her blonde head which gives her no other option than to keep her head buried between your legs, sucking on your clit as you ride out your high and start to cum on her face.

her fingers continue to plunge in and out of you at practically record speed, fingertips curling against every inch of your g-spot and without warning, a stream of juices spurts from your pussy to soak her fingers and her face. she slides her fingers from your entrance, holding them up for you to see that they're covered in your juices, glistening in the light.

"look at the mess you made." she chuckles as she looks up and notices the look of absolute shock on your face as you realise what just happened.

"never done that before, huh?" she raises an eyebrow. "nuh uh." you pant out, feeling the need to pinch yourself as there is absolutely no way in hell she just made you squirt. "he's never made me do that....like ever." you giggle.

your head is still reeling as she lays you comfortably up against the pillows before she quickly fetches a washcloth from the en-suite bathroom. she returns less than a minute later, warm washcloth in hand, and starts to clean you up between your legs doting to your every need and want so soothingly, kissing at your thighs and stomach sporadically whilst doing so.

she eventually lends you one of her t-shirts to wear, gently holding your arms above your head, the soft material grazing against your skin. she climbs into bed beside you, the two of you bundled up under the thick sheets, snuggled up into her arms as your scroll through the footage taken on your phone. abby rubs her hand up your spine softly before pulling you tightly against her as she smirks at you, "gimme his number, i wanna send the footage to him."

you giggle and hand her your phone as she quickly copies down his phone number from your contacts into her own with a couple taps of her screen before opening up a text conversation with the new contact. she attaches the videos and starts to type out a message which reads:

"took care of your girl for you tonight...looks like she likes me better, don't you think?"

you shake your head and give her a little amused smile as you see the sheer look of smugness filling her flushed face, "that'll fuckin’ teach him." before pressing send and placing her phone face down on the bed in front of you.

it’s safe to say that thanks to abby’s bright idea, you were successfully able to give your boyfriend the vengeance that he deserved after all. as abby pulls you in closer to her chest, you get the feeling that this won’t be the last time you’ll do this with her.

and by the looks of it, you’ve found a new habit of your own to enjoy too.

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princessbrunette · 5 months ago

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mascot!jj had charmed you.

he had handed you the party invite whilst wearing the full mascot get up, sweaty hair stuck to his head, cheeks flushed post game, tongue wetting his lips. jj was an odd one, the rules were different at college. you can be a dork, a mascot for the sports team — but if you were likeable, charming, and cute — you’d still get invited places.

“better see you there, i’m like, so serious.” he’d grinned when he placed the flier in your hand, eyes lingering before he runs off to hand out more.

now there you were, watching him be a social butterfly — shyly stood at his side with a tight dress on. it was nice to see him without the big mascot costume, now stood there — looking alot less sweaty, the college sweatshirt on, a cap sat snugly backwards on his head. you already knew he was cute and charming, but tonight you were seeing him in a different light. the type that made you down your drink a lot quicker, needing that buzz of confidence.

you were aware of rafe’s presence at this party, and that he wanted you — so naturally he wasn’t very happy about seeing you lingering around jj the whole night. the cameron boy was already pretty gone by the time you’d turned up, so it was hard to keep his attention for too long anyway — rafe getting sucked into beer pong with the boys or worse, disappearing to the bathroom and reappearing fifteen minutes later sniffing and playing with his nose. he’d give you a sweaty five minutes, grinding up behind you on the dance floor before running off to force his friends to ‘chug.’

but you had jj’s attention. he didn’t miss a beat.

when it came to passing around a joint, he practically smacked it out of his friends hand to grab at it.

“dude, seriously — y’gotta offer it to the lady first. where are your manners? like…” he scolds, shaking his head before holding it up with raised brows. “care for some greens m’lady?” he presents, making you giggle. you lower your voice, a little embarrassed.

“i’ve never done that before.”

he’s quick, eyes widening and jerking his hand away. “oh— forget it then. it’s gone. s’totally cool we don’t gotta—”

“wait— no i… i wanna try… with you.” you bring your hands to a clasp on your lap, lifting your shoulders shyly as if to bat away the eyes on your interaction, and you physically watch him melt. not only in relief, but in adoration.

“wh— really? don’t feel like you have to. i’m cool either way.”

you take two tokes and you’re done, and jj is indeed cool with it. chuckling as he takes it away from you, he brings it to his own mouth, inhaling before blowing away from you and standing up. “y’know what? sometimes two is like, more than enough. gettin’ you some water ‘kay, two secs.”

you’re all warm and hazy as you watch him walk away, grinning ear to ear as you don’t even acknowledge rafe shoulder checking him as they pass eachother, saying something you don’t hear. jj flips him off as he walks on, and that’s that. you’ve never had two guys fight over you before, and though usually you hate the attention being on you, even when you’re up dancing on that field— you couldn’t help but feel some arousal stirring inside you. it was nice to feel wanted.

maybe that’s why you downed your drink, why that shyness started to drain your body, why you ended up in some sorority chicks walk in closet, practically climbing jj maybank as you frantically overlap tongues.

you can’t believe the words flying from your mouth as you pant wetly in his ear, so beside yourself you couldn’t believe it. his hand is stuffed down your panties, jaw dropping when he really acknowledges how soaked you are. “wanna— wanna suck you off, jayj.” you moan, and even in the moment you know you sound like a desperate pornstar. jj physically shudders, eyes screwing shut like he could cum right there.

“you— okay— i mean there’s no way like you’re impossibly hot and should be seriously like… not interested in me dude — sorry not dude, you’re not a— whatever, lemme make you cum— see how ya feel after.”

he shakes his head at his own rambling, dropping a quick kiss to your cheek when you freeze to listen to him with wide glossy eyes, biting his lip and scrunching his nose in concentration as he extends his arm a little more, trying to find that spot. surprisingly, it seemed like he’d done this quite a few times before. if you weren’t so aroused, your stomach might’ve twisted in jealousy.

he sinks his middle finger inside you, and extends his thumb to dust little circles over your clit and your knees buckle, jaw dropping. he supports more of your weight, nodding knowingly. “yup. theeere it is. alright, lemme get you right mama.”

and that he did.

#jj maybank prompt #college!au #mascot!jj #cheerleader!reader

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taelophone · 4 days ago

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Luigi M; A Look ⋆˙⟡ — A Luigi Mangione Analysis ⋆⭒˚｡⋆. A/N: I am not claiming to know or understand him as a person lol. I simply wanna do a lil surface dive on him as a person to try and shed some light on what I think he's like!

Please note; All links are tweets Luigi himself has reposted, or are things from his mouth that he has typed. VIA Reddit, twitter, etc etc. All retweets will be marked with *

⟡ Luigi as a person (good, and bad)

⋆ After many many hours of scouring this man’s socials and any sort of archive of him I can find, I’ve gathered a handful of interpretations and ideas as to what Luigi was like prior to his surgery. And I say that last part specifically because he showed a v drastic change directly after his surgery, and literally went M.I.A.

Luigi is a very empathetic and intelligent man, this is a surface level fact that we can all agree on. He’s been shown to go out of his way for other people even when he doesn’t have to. But please don’t let that fool you this man is a KEYBOARD. WARRIOR.

⋆ He LIVES for the debate. In fact, he fucking loves debating. I wouldn’t go as far as saying he loves arguing, but if there’s a point being made and he feels strongly about it, he will type pages upon pages of text explaining in great detail exactly why you are wrong.

He’s said time and time before in a retweeted post that freethinking* is a very important part of life, and here’s where I say he’s…a bit of a hypocrite. His love for debate kind of keeps him from seeing another person’s POV, which makes for a hell of a storm when disagreeing with him. In short, he’s stubborn. A very stubborn man, but he is open to hearing the other person out versus not listening to them at all.

And I have a strong feeling his stubborn demeanor coincides with the fact that he knows he’s smart. Don’t get me wrong, he seems like he usually knows what he’s talking about, but that’s the problem. If you tell him about something that’s been bothering you or going wrong in your life, he will spit out 99 solutions for you. He’s the kind of guy where he will probably resort to both comfort AND unsolicited advice, although its likely he got better at the latter later down the line.

⋆ Shying away from him being stubborn, there’s another key part of this man that I DONT SEE BEING TALKED ABOUT ENOUGHHH OMG. SASSY MAN. SASSY SASSY SAASSSSYY MAN.

You can expect shade, eye rolls, silent treatment, head shakes, and possibly even a snarky comment from him. He’s all about becoming a better person and stuck on self betterment, but he is not afraid to show his visible disdain for something. He has very dry and unexpected humor, but he doesn’t realize it. He’s funny in a way where he doesn’t mean to be.

But when he’s trying to make a joke? Oh god help me he’s so so so cheesy and so corny that it makes you just wanna curl up and die (but no seriously, he’s so corny that it’s funny). His sense of humor is so cheesy, think old vine and 2018 humor.

⋆ Another key part about him is his love for travel, and being a “geek” by nature! This man loooooovesss his Pokemon, let me tell you. Was in a whole subreddit dedicated to Pokemon go, word committed for half a page about backpacking essentials, and was almost always posted up somewhere that wasn’t his house. I can’t say he’s the type for spontaneous trips, as the only time he has been known to take was during the beginning of his breakdown.

Because of this, I feel like he’s more likely to be a marvel and MCU fan. He also read a couple of the Harry Potter books, and we can assume that he liked the series enough to rate them 5/5s lol

⟡ My takeaways. Deeper analysis

⋆ Luigi gives me massive INTJ vibes. Contrary to popular belief, I feel he’s more introverted rather than extroverted. He’s expressed clear comfort in solitude, and aligns perfectly with the personality category.

INTJ description;

“INNOVATIVE,INDEPENDENT, STRATEGIC, LOGICAL, RESERVED, INSIGHTFUL. DRIVEN BY THEIR OWN ORIGINAL IDEAS TO ACHIEVE IMPROVEMENTS.”

However, I could see him being an ISTP, who are characterized as

“ACTION-ORIENTED, LOGICAL, ANALYTICAL, SPONTNEOUS, RESERVED, INDEPENDENT. ENJOY ADVENTURE, SKILLED AT UNDERSTANDING THINGS.”

⋆ He’s a very big geek! More than likely has a soft spot for nostalgia content or things that remind him of childhood. We can expect him to be into things like Ben10, Cartoon Network, old Nickelodeon, and other shows such as The Office, Law & Order, true crime, and philosophy content!

⋆ Expect him to be a giving lover. Would absolutely love words of affirmation, quality time, and acts of service. He’d be more than willing to give you gifts and shower you in lavishes, but it’s not his main love language as he believes love goes beyond materialism and who can spend the most on who. Handmade gifts are a go! Expect 3D printed trinkets, pictures, cards, etc etc.

⋆ Absolute communication god. He’s stubborn, but he’s not stubborn enough to not tell you when something is wrong. It’s just not his speed and he thinks it’s pointless to not tell someone, especially your partner, when he’s upset or what’s got him in a bad mood. He also expects this same behavior from you as well. The whole “I don’t wanna tell you what’s wrong” shindig would annoy the FUCK out of him. FAST.

⋆ He doesn’t give possessive or jealous lover type ngl. Growing up with two sisters and being absolutely showered in female companionship, he understands how that could possibly make you feel and doesn’t even blame you for it. As a result, he’d be extremely understanding if you were friends with men.

⋆ Please don’t ever get in an argument with this man lmfao. That is one battle you cannot and WILL NOT win. If it’s petty and a matter of “I didn’t say so and so,” he WILL show up with receipts. Would very much start busting out his big boy words just to confuse you. Catch him throwing old English into the mix. But if it’s a legitimate argument, and you have a reason to be upset, he will apologize before it can even get off track.

⟡ Luigi’s Brain

⋆ Alright kids here’s where we get a little controversial. What’s going on in Luigi’s mind?

I just wanna start this section off by saying I am not a licensed psychologist, nor do I major in psychology. I have no ties to this topic whatsoever, and am just speaking from what I’ve seen in myself, and what I’ve seen in him.

Neurodivergence. Luigi has a habit of exuding very neurodiverse behavioral patterns that I could tie to one of two things. Autism, or OCD.

⋆ Luigi openly expressed a lot about his wills and wants on his various social media platforms, and one thing I’ve noticed is his strong need or drive for self-improvement. Please don’t get me wrong, it is incredibly important to want to improve yourself and that is a perfectly healthy goal to have. However, Luigi’s drive for self-improvement and ‘getting better’ had a direct impact on his relationships, lifestyle, and more. This is likely what influenced his 6 month period of self-isolation and cutting off his family members.

Perfectionism “type” OCD is a branch of the umbrella term of OCD in which can be identified by repetitive behaviors, such as excessive exercise, something he continued to engage in even with a bad back, insistence on specific routines or ways to do things to achieve perfection, and occasionally rigid and inflexible thinking patterns, as I described him being likely to have above.

not everyone experiences OCD the same way, and me and Luigi are obviously going to experience it differently considering we are two completely different individuals. As someone with perfectionism OCD, I am just calling what I see in my eyes.

⋆ I saw someone make the argument a while back that Luigi could possibly be a narcissist, and while I don't necessarily deny that he can come off as pompous in some of his tweets, I do not think this is the case.

For Luigi to be a narcissist means that he wouldn't be able to make meaningful connections with people around him. Every person that has met or come into contact with Luigi only had good things to say, but I'd like to focus on his...straightforward or out-of-touch* tweets.

Luigi is a no-nonsense man. He's very left-brained and thinks as such, literally. He demonstrates a tendency to solve and think and plow through anything he registers as a problem. Have you ever asked "well, why can't we just print more money?" when told about the cash crisis? That's exactly whats going on in this tweet.

His first instinct when faced with the topic of Japan's birth rate is to try and solve it. Luigi may be hyperfixated on stats and data, which would clarify why he allegedly word-vomited to the hoes about birth rate data. He's not trying to come off as rude or ignorant, and frankly, I don't really think his tweet is that crazy either, he just might not know that this isn't something considered a social topic.

I feel like we're ignoring a lot of his more out-of-touch* (re)tweets, though. Scrolling through Luigi's page, I can understand what he's trying to get at, though lol. He's made it very clear that he's an intense supporter of complete equality*, he doesn't want anybody to be undermined in their contributions to society. Regardless of gender, sexual identity, race, etc. But again, he's thinking so literally and has trouble effectively communicating that in a way that is "neurotypical." This paired with the way he word vomits, and just his overall typing style and cadence, It just feels like he may be on the spectrum!

I do not have a link for this as his Reddit account was fucking obliterated, BUT, I do remember it being rumored that Luigi was apart of several neurodivergent support groups and subreddits!

I hope I helped humanize him a bit more for you guys! Lmk what you think of this little summary as it’s my first time doing something like this EVER lmfao😭

#luigi mangione x you #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione x yn #luigi mangione

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lanadelnegan · 8 months ago

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Tattoo - part 2 (final)

Teacher!Negan x F!Reader

Summary: After your art teacher gives you a tattoo that will always remind you of him, he wants a matching one. But he wants you to give it to him.. while you "give it to him."

Warnings: 18+, smut, age-gap, p in v, blowjob, teacher-student relationship, giving Negan a tattoo while you ride him, (if teacher-student relationships and/or age-gaps are not your thing, please do not read.)

Part one here

Finally posting this after a century! Sorry it took so long. xx

“Are you insane?!” I stood with the tattoo gun in my hand, mouth dropped open as I watched him get comfortable on the leather couch. He sat shirtless with his legs spread perfectly apart.

“Probably.” He grinned, flashing his pretty teeth and deeply ingrained dimples that I've become obsessed with over the years.

“Seriously.. Negan.. I’ve never tattooed someone before, obviously, and-“

His head fell to the side as if he didn't want to hear my excuses. “You’ve taken my art class four times. More than any other student at that damn school. Did you learn anything, or were you too busy fantasizing about the teacher?" He smirked.

"... I didn't learn how to give someone a tattoo."

"No different than drawing, baby."

"I can barely do that." I shrugged. "Why did you even pass me?"

Negan let out a chuckle, leaning his head back against the couch for a moment. "I think we both know the answer to that." We both fell silent as I looked unsure about what he was asking me to do.

“I’ll start it. Would that make you feel better?” He asked. I nodded, knowing there’s no way I could do this by myself.

“Hand me that pen over there?” He nodded towards his desk. I grabbed a purple outline pen to give him and he took the cap off with his teeth before easily drawing the most perfect baseball bat I've ever seen on his chest right about his left nipple. He tossed the pen aside and started the tattoo gun, bringing it close to his chest.

“Stop.” I blurted. “You don’t have to do this.”

Negan scrunched his brows at me. “I don’t do anything I don’t wanna do, sweetheart.” He said before carving a small line over the purple outline on his skin, not flinching an ounce. He stopped after making a small mark on his skin, then handed me the tattoo gun while patting his lap for me to sit.

He can’t seriously want me to sit in his lap while I permanently mark his body.

“Take your clothes off first, baby. Give me something to look at while we do this.”

I sat the tattoo gun to the side before slowly undressing for him until I was completely bare and cold, shivering in front of him.

“Mm, so fucking beautiful.” He praised, seeing my perky nipples on display for him. I noticed the straining bulge in his pants before I even sat down. I straddled him carefully and settled into his lap while facing him, cautiously holding the tattoo gun in my hand.

“You got this, darlin’.” He encouraged me, probably because I looked like I could faint any second. Sitting in my hot teacher's lap and tattooing his chest wasn’t something I thought I'd ever do.

“What if-“ I started but he cut me off.

“I don’t care.” He said in almost a whisper. “You could draw little hearts and fuckin' butterflies all over me, and I wouldn’t care as long as you’re hovering that sweet pussy over me. The tat? Is the last thing on my mind right now, doll.”

With that, I brought it to his skin and began making a line before I could talk to myself out of it. I felt Negan’s eyes burning into me, and his face was close enough to mine for me to smell the mint and tobacco on his mouth. Negan let out a breath that resembled a moan when the needle tore through his flesh.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, continuing my surprisingly impressive line.

"No." His voice was hoarse and raspy. "Feels fucking good."

I felt the bulge in his pants grow bigger underneath me and wanted to grind against him but couldn't move without possibly messing up. Negan watched me intensely before I felt his hand drift down to my center. I shivered when he ran a finger through my wet slit and saw him smirk out of the corner of my eye.

"Negan. I need to be still. I'm not messing this up."

"Then be still, darlin'. Don't mind me." I heard the zipper of his pants and glanced at him, giving him a silent warning that whatever he was about to do wasn't a good idea.

Negan grabbed my wrist gently and I pulled my hand away from his chest as he lifted my hips slightly and guided me over his length. I sat down completely, taking him so deep that it hurt.

"Negan.." I moaned, and he moaned with me, keeping us still and not moving while his cock was all the way inside me.

"Finish what you started, baby." He said, gesturing to the tattoo gun still in my hand. Hesitantly I started again, going slower this time. I felt his cock twitch inside me when the needle hit his skin, and almost whimpered at how full he made me feel, pressing tightly into my walls.

"You never answered my question, doll."

"Hm?" I asked, focusing on the tattoo and trying to ignore the throbbing sensation in my cunt.

"Did you learn anything in my class?"

I smiled for a moment, thinking of a clever answer. "Of course. I learned that.. I wanted you. Safe to say I did more fantasizing than listening to you yap about art, although listening to your deep voice did help with the fantasies." I giggled.

"Yeah?" He asked, tightening his grip on my hips as he fought the urge to thrust his hips upwards. "What exactly did you fantasize about, doll?"

"So much. But.. my favorite was thinking of you bending me over your desk. Or sucking your cock underneath your desk while others were around and had no idea."

"Fuuck." Negan breathed out heavily as he rested his head back against the couch. "Keep going, baby. I want to hear more."

"I would always stare at the front of your pants."

"I noticed." He chuckled.

"And I'd imagine what it looked like. How big you were."

"Yeah? What do you think? Was it what you imagined?"

"Bigger." I said truthfully, getting close to being finished with the tattoo.

"Sweetheart, I need you to hurry the fuck up and finish. My dick is gonna fucking explode if I don't move soon."

"Already done." I pulled the gun back and smiled, admiring my work and being pleasantly surprised. "Take a look."

Negan ripped the gun out of my hand and tossed it on the floor. "Later. Bounce on my fuckin' dick, now." He said desperately as he adjusted himself lower on the couch.

I happily obeyed him, placing my hands on his shoulders, being careful not to touch his reddening pecs. It felt so good to finally move up and down on his cock, so I dropped my head back and rode him fast and hard while my tits bounced in his face.

Negan leaned forward and took my nipple into his mouth, slurping around it and groaning as I fucked him. I screamed out, knowing we were the only ones there and I could be as loud as I wanted.

"Fuuuck, baby." He said breathlessly, leaning back again and looking up at me. "You look so fuckin' pretty with my dick inside you." His thumb dug into my hips, brushing against my fresh tattoo that now matched his own.

"Negan! I'm gonna cum!" I cried out, letting my orgasm rip through me while my legs shook and collapsed until I sank all the way down on him again, not able to hold myself up.

"Goddamn! Look at the mess you made all over me." He said proudly and I looked down between us, seeing the pool of wetness where our bodies were connected.

"Sorry.." I said, blushing.

He hummed, looking up at you. "I don't believe you. Why don't you get on your knees and clean up your mess? Show daddy how sorry you are?"

He kissed me before I climbed off his lap and onto my knees in the floor, settling between his spread legs. His cock stood tall between his legs and I finally got a chance to admire it. Wrapping my hand around it, I stroked him slowly, studying every vein in his impressive length. I imagined the sight of this for so long, and I wanted to enjoy it.

Pushing his hard cock away, I dipped my head between his crotch and sucked one of his large balls into my mouth, moaning around it. Negan's leg twitched at the sudden sensitivity as he gently wrapped his hand in my hair.

"Shit, baby. Been awhile since someone's had my balls in their mouth. Forgot how - oh, fuck - how good it feels."

I gave the other one some attention before finally licking up his shaft until I reached the tip, wrapping my mouth firmly around his thick head. He tasted like a mix of my pussy and his precum and it was the most heavenly thing I had ever experienced. I savored it as I took him as far as I could in the back of my throat, gagging slightly before pulling back. I continued this for awhile, taking turns sucking and stroking him until my mouth was dripping with spit and his dick was soaked.

"Ohhh fuck, baby, you ready for my cum?" He said quickly, guiding my head back to his cock. He let out a loud, strained groan as I felt him empty himself down my throat. I moaned around him, not pulling away until every drop was swallowed.

Negan leaned down, wrapping his hand around my throat and pulling me towards him for a kiss. I slipped my tongue in his mouth, letting him taste us and his eyes fluttered shut.

"I should have failed you." He signed when he finally broke away from the kiss.

"What? Why?"

"Art won't be the same without you. I dunno if I want to teach anymore now that you're graduating."

"Don't be silly. You've always loved art."

Negan chuckled, pulling me into his lap again. "No.. I've always loved you."

Tag list: (let me know if you wanted to be added to my future negan fic tag list)

@loganlostitall @chaospossum @negansbabydoll66 @redqueenphoenix @n3g5nx @crustyweirdo @youngpersonaathletebear @sadgirlzluvdilfs @ilovebill-and-gustav @neganscumbucket @manipulatorpoem @im-a-goddamn-cat @raininhell @mahogany-cherry-wine @daryldixmedown @munsonslovergirl @sanctuaryforthelost @thelauraborealis @carlgrimesbbg @c3linesworld @blueheisenbergtragedy @startwinklekitty @darlingmadelinee @oceandeepthirst @jschlattsqtip @lavenderchai @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @neganswoman @n7crophiliac @cats-writing @alldevilsarehere90 @natykacenka @queermilfs @stasiaangelsinner @lupa-03 @sadgirlzluvdilfs @pamago-bb @javier-penas-wifexx420 @motelprincess444 @thatonefroggirl @myhappyplaceofstuff @darlingmadelinee @used2beee @easystreet07 @princess-23-xoxo @twdxtrevor

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disneyprincemuke · 11 months ago

Text

of drunk regrets * fem!driver

the morning after vegas

what does one do when you have no recollection of getting married?

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, mick schumacher x fem!driver

notes: hi late update and that’s because i was crocheting the entire day lol

(series masterlist)

she hums turning around, her arm landing on something solid instead of a soft pillow. she opens an eye, flinching back when her eyes land on someone’s clothed back, then groans when nausea slowly hits her.

“who the fuck is this?”

the person next to her hums. they left their head before dropping it back into the pillow. “mm.”

she looks around to the best of her ability, snorting when she realises that amidst all her drunken antics from the night before, they didn’t even end up on the bed. they’re sleeping on the carpeted floor of her hotel room.

she lifts her head, ignoring the nausea hitting her all at once. the bed is empty.

a hand comes up to nurse her head, looking down at the body lying next to her with the blanket draped over their shoulder loosely. she brought somebody back to her hotel room with her? now that’s just a tabloid rumour waiting to blow up in her face when she opens up her phone.

she leans forward, wobbling slightly, as she tries to get a glimpse of their face. her eyes widen, landing a smack on their shoulder with some force. "what the hell are you doing here?"

"don't hit me, i'm trying to sleep."

"mick! you're in my hotel room!"

"what?" blue eyes are exposed to the dim lights of the room, disappearing once more when mick shuts his eyes. "what am i doing here?"

"how would i know?" she sighs, slowly lying back down on the ground. "i don't remember anything."

"we didn't do anything... did we?"

she looks down at herself, surprisingly dressed in her pyjamas without any recollection of even making it back into her hotel room in the first place. "i hope not."

"you hope?" mick cries, shaking his head in dismay. "this is not good."

"give me a second. i need to think," she sighs, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. "start thinking. do you remember anything from last night?"

mick also sighs, simply shaking his head. he pulls the blanket over his body and snuggles back into his pillow. "no, but wake me up when you've figured it out. i'm really hungover right now, mate."

"really? you don't think i am?"

"i'm sure you are, but– what the hell is this on my finger? when did i get a mood ring?"

"you have a mood ring?" there's a momentary pause. "oh, look. i've got one too. when did i–"

they both sit up hurriedly, hissing in pain as they point at each other with a loud gasp. "no! are you serious? did we really do that? when did we even have the time to do that?"

mick cries. "my mother is going to kill me."

"mine will kill me – i'm barely 21, mick!"

"i'm going to american jail! you're not even legal here!" he rubs his eyes. “i don’t wanna go to jail here!”

she scrambles around for her phone, eyes widening at her notifications.

SUPERMAX you and mick???

RATSELL what's ur ig post about m8?

LOWGAN when u wake up, there's a cup of water and an advil on the bedside for u also, check ur instagram

PASTRY you did the funniest thing last night.

LILLIES thanks for the free pizza wish i could've been there for the actual ceremony though? it's ok, maybe at your next wedding

ALBONO please tell me you didn't

LAW SON i think u may have sent logan over the edge cuz wtf is bro doing in my hotel room ranting to charlotte and i at 5am

MICKEY ur asleep rn i can't sleep when do u think we should renew our vows??? oh no we got married!??!??!

BLYTHE mate u got married without me in attendance??? not saying i'm offended but like seriously?

THE BETTER SARGEANT who u married to? if it's logan istg omg is it mick? i saw ur instagram

LANCE

congrats!!!

if i’d known sooner, i’d have bought you a wedding gift before landing in vegas

i’ll get one before the last race i promise

SEBASTIAN ur very funny, do u know that? text me when ur up, we should talk

MUMMY wowww let me know what wedding gift to get you you grow up so fast, my love

PAPA what is all this ruckus i'm hearing between mum and blythe about you getting married? call me.

KRISTEN (PR) team meeting asap. bring the schumacher.

she glances at mick. "my dad's going to kill you."

mick turns to her, shoulders slumped with his eyes widened in panic. "i really really hope my mother gets to me first." he shakes his head and pats around the ground for his phone. "you know what? i'll just tell her myself."

“don’t bother,” she scoffs, lying back down in the pillow sprawled on the floor. “i vividly remember you calling gina when we were getting pizza that you married me in vegas.”

kristen chews on the inside of her cheek, scanning the group around her. "what is this? i only told you to bring mick."

the girl takes off the sunglasses on her face and sighs. "you think i didn't try telling them off? is this your first time meeting these losers? i– listen, i'm too hungover to tell them off, kristen."

"please let us stay?" max smiles, batting his eyelashes at the older woman. "i promise we'll be quiet. i'm just curious over the events of last night."

"so am i," kristen points out in a soft voice, moving her eyes over the pair seated on the couch on the other side of her table. at that point, they are the least of her concerns. "do you know the pr nightmare you just caused over a couple of drinks? do you have any idea the reckless thing you just did?"

"please don't shout," she says softly, eyes closing. "it was stupid, we know. in my defense–"

"they shouldn't have even let us in the chapel in the first place in that state," mick sighs, shaking his head disapprovingly. “so technically, whose fault is it, really?”

“both of yours for even coming up with the stupid idea in the first place!” logan screams, pointing at them in frustration. “you made a bad decision!”

kristen glances at logan, shooting him a side eye for disrupting her meeting. when logan shrugs, she simply looks back at the married pair her seats. “you’re not even 21! you did this in america too! god!”

“and they shouldn’t have permitted it knowing that i wasn’t 21!” the young girl shrieks, immediately defending herself. this is a hill she is willing to die on. “let’s focus more on the fact that they let two drunk idiots get married instead of the fact that i thought of it.”

“you came up with that idea?” max throws his head back, hissing softly as he shook his head. “why am i not surprised?”

“right? you have to tell her how stupid she is for this,” logan rambles in frustration. “seriously! you couldn’t go one year without making a stupid decision?

she rolls her eyes, glancing at mick from the side of her eyes. he flashes her an apologetic grin and she shrugs with another eye roll in response.

“i mean, you’re an adult. you can do whatever you want, but do you know how legally exhausting the entire process will be from here on out?” max continues, throwing his arms in the air. “knowing you, you won’t like it! there’s a lot of papers to sign!”

“and paper work to read!” logan adds on. “seriously!”

“god, (y/n), how could you be so stu–“

“i came up with the idea,” mick speaks out, turning to max and logan with a small smile. “it’s not her fault, you guys. come on. lay off her a little bit.”

she shoots him a questioning stare. “no, wait–“

mick laughs. “the deal at the pizza place just looked so good. i’m not excusing it because we were drunk, but cut us some slack.”

sebastian, sitting quietly in the corner of the room, finally stands up. he folds his arms over his chest. “it doesn’t matter who came up with the crazy idea to get married in vegas.”

“you’re still not mad?” logan raises an eyebrow. “there’s got to be some part of you that is.”

“how about let me conduct my meeting with my driver in peace? unless you want to take over my job of being her pr officer…” kristen speaks out, looking around the room to shut down any more forms of interruption. she looks back at her. “let me see the marriage certificate.”

“the what?”

“you signed one, didn’t you?“

she scrunches her nose and looks at mick. “did we sign one? i really can’t remember.”

“i don’t,” mick cuts himself off, looking just as clueless, “i literally blacked out last night. i don’t remember anything.”

sebastian beams, standing a little straighter. “i have it right here! look at it, kristen.”

he puts down a piece of paper on the table. the entire room watches the woman read over the paper, lips pressed together.

a small laugh bubbles from her, grabbing the certificate into her hands and bringing it closer to her face. her laugh gets a little louder, sebastian eventually joining her with a hand over his mouth.

“what is so funny?” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “all i can think about is the shopping spree i can’t have this month over the lawyer fees.”

“and the fact that i could end up in american jail for marrying a 20-year-old!”

kristen grins, slamming the certificate down onto the table. “it’s illegitimate.”

“what?”

“oh?”

“surprising turn of events!”

“illegitimate?”

a hand slams into the table, the youngest in the room jumping to her feet. “illegitimate? what about my free pizza? how is that illegitimate? i’m not a schumacher anymore?”

“you changed your name?” oscar pipes up, roaring in laughter, covering his face. this entire ordeal has been very amusing to him.

she turns around sheepishly with a small smile. “i was planning to. how cool would it be to be a schumacher?”

“what the fuck?” logan says to her, bewildered at the thought process. “you’re not married and you’re telling me that’s the only thing you’re concerned about? not being a schumacher in the eye of the law?”

mick giggles, looking up at her with an impressed expression. “schumacher does go along well with your name.”

“i know. should we get married for realsies after this weekend and legally change my name?”

“have you learned nothing from this?” kristen throws her hands into the air. she leans back into her seat, letting out the heaviest sigh of relief as she no longer has to engage with any legal teams. pr wise, it would be easy.

she shrugs, sitting back down into the cushioned seat. “don’t get drunk with mick in vegas.”

“first and last time i’m drinking that much with you,” mick adds on with a snort. though, there’s a small smile playing on his face as he looks at her.

they both know that won’t be the last time they’ll be sending their pr officers into a frenzy. they’re truly a force to be reckoned with.

and, it could have been worse.

“i paid for all the pizzas you ate and threw up last night,” sebastian sighs, shaking his head. “you owe me like $100.”

she nods. “okay, i’ll pay you. still no shopping spree for me this month, i guess.”

mick clicks his tongue, giving her a thumbs up. “i’ll pay him. consider it my wedding gift to you, wife.”

“she’s not your wife,” logan points out with an eye roll. “didn’t even get married in the first place, remember? illegitimate. not even a real certificate. never happened. literally no record of it.”

“i’m curious,” max furrows his eyebrows and lips pouted out. “how did you pull this off to make it seem real, seb?”

“i arrived to their ‘wedding’–“

“not real!”

“logan, cut it out.”

“–before them. i spoke to the receptionist before they arrived; they don’t let drunk people get married. i convinced her to give them the slot anyway just to teach these two a lesson.”

“impressive?” kristen smiles. “you just saved me a lot of paper work.”

“and mick the beating he’d get from her dad if it actually ever happened to go through.”

she smiles, leaning over the arm rest to whisper at mick. she taps him on the shoulder. “we should celebrate with ice cream.”

— bonus

they flood out of the office collectively, the young girl looking down at the mood ring around her ring finger. “we should keep the rings, shouldn’t we, mick? keepsake.”

“to remind you of your bad decision making?” logan questions.

“no, to piss you off.” she turns around and shoves him back gently. “of course, just to keep memory of the one time i was almost a schumacher!”

sebastian tilts his head. “you know you’ll still be you, right? even if you’re legally considered a schumacher? you won’t get his blue eyes.”

“i could,” she hums with a smile. “so, husband. watching the race from my garage tonight like a factory manufactured wag?”

“can’t, wife,” mick sighs. “i work for mercedes.”

“i could get you the second seat if you wanted.”

“you have the power to do that?” she nods. “that’s hot.”

“cut it out, you guys are making max uncomfortable!” oscar grunts, pushing the pair apart.

beside them, max has his fingers plugged into his ears and is humming softly to himself. “it’s not real, it’s not real. they’re not actually married,” he whispers to himself. “and it will never happen.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @darleneslane @meadhbhcavanagh @namgification @inejismywife @2bormaybenot @love4lando

#sebastian vettel x reader #logan sargeant x reader #max verstappen x reader #oscar piastri x reader #mick schumacher x reader #f1 female driver #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fem!driver #female driver #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke vr #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

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