#vaginal dryness causes

[phinniastuff]

Why is PResident #45 not part of this image?

[certifiedsexed]

Could you give me any insight on the safety of these feminine hygiene wipes I bought? I’m not sure how to tell if they’re going to give me a yeast infection or something lol

(Note: I cannot see these well enough to describe them for others, sorry about that.)

Now, admittedly, I can't see these super well and I'm not an expert on the subject but I do have some thoughts.

The first red flag here is perfume. Perfume is almost always a genital irritant. (Which may be why it's listed as fragrance instead. Not sure.)

Also, lavender oil usually contains alcohol, which is also a genital irritant. (Both can cause vaginal dryness and mess with your pH, which can cause...you guessed it, yeast infections.)

Some of the other ingredients aren't always irritants but are definitely possible irritants and can cause yeast infections. (Propylene Glycol, Glycerin, etc)

Those were my first thoughts! But then I noticed the "Since 1920s" text and got a really bad feeling. The 1920s and a company propping themselves up for their "feminine hygiene products"? Not a good combination.

So, I looked up Modess. Turns out they're a proud offshoot of Johnson and Johnson and are partially still affiliated with them. Talk about flags redder than the communist flag, wow.

Johnson and Johnson is particularly infamous for their lack of testing and ignoring when their products were literally killing people and that's not even getting into the racism and misogyny. [Seriously. It's horrific.]

Now, beyond that, I looked at the Modess website. They sell loads of "feminine hygiene products", designed to eliminate odor with many questionable ingredients.

With that in mind and the fact that people who use things labeled as "feminine hygiene products" have been shown to have higher rates of all types of infections and even cancer, I wouldn't trust this shit any further than I could walk [which isn't far!]

I could absolutely be wrong but these genuinely seem sketchy as fuck and some of these ingredients definitely seem like a cocktail designed to give people, especially those with sensitive pHs, at least a yeast infection.

Sorry it took awhile to respond and sorry if I rambled a lot but I hope this helps! Let me know if you have any other questions. <3

[allzelemonz]

Might As Well: Negan Smith X FTM Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 4, Forced Proximity Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘man’ and ‘guy’ Physical Sex: AFAB, neutral wording used except in warnings section Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Negan says trans people are hot, Negan being gay, Negan has a dick size fixation, Negan is his own warning, cave in, trapped together, trans reader, trans male reader, vaginal sex, mention of pregnancy possibility but nothing positive, brief masturbation, top Negan and bottom Reader, mention of Reader being thick, mention of future oral sex Summary: While scouting through a cave system, you and Negan get cut off from the others.

The cave-in happened without a lot of warning. Just enough rumbling for everyone to panic, not nearly enough to get Negan out. The rocks fell, filling the whole passage and leaving the rest of the scout team on the other side while you and Negan stand between the fallen rocks and a natural dead end. You can faintly hear Simon and Regina shouting at the rest to shut up, but nothing beyond that.

You look back at Negan, eyes searching for injuries on your boss. “You good?”

He nods. “Dandy, just fucking dandy.”

“Alright!” Simon shouts from the other side of the rocks. “We’re gonna need some tools, probably wood to prop up the cave, get the fuck back to the truck.”

Negan smirks, leaning against the wall. “That’s my Simon, getting shit done.”

“Still gonna be a while.” You run a hand along the rocks. “Shit’s pretty thick, boss.”

“It ain’t the only thing.” Negan mutters, tilting his head as he looks you over. “Would you be absolutely offended if I said I wanted to stuff whatever hole you got, man?”

“Funny, boss.” You mutter, still scanning the rocks to find some kind of opening.

“You think I’d joke about that?” Negan huffs. “You’re a good lieutenant, don’t get me wrong, but my first pick for you was husband. And since we got a while, well… we might as well, huh?”

You look back at him, finding his face oddly steady as opposed to that typical bullshit expression.

“Now.” He sighs, setting Lucielle aside and starting to unbuckle his belt. “Either I beat it to your handsome fucking face or I get to stick this uncomfortable problem between your legs. But I am gonna get off either way, cause you’ve had me hard for like an hour.”

You watch with a bit of a swirling mind as he pulls himself from his pants and starts to stroke.

“Feel free to jump in.” He groans lightly as his head rests back against the cave wall.

You feel a dryness in your throat, a throbbing below the waist, and the immediate image of your boss fucking you into the rocks beneath your feet.

“Okay…” Your voice comes out scratchy and low enough that, in the back of your mind, you wish it would always sound like that.

He pauses, smiling over at you. “Any boundaries I need to know about?”

You crinkle your brow, not fully expecting him to care about something like that.

“Look, man…” He sighs, shaking out his hand. “You ain’t the first guy in that situation I’ve had and you definitely won’t be the last. All I wanna know is if I can touch everything without a lotta grief or if I should just hold your hips and fuck.”

It surprises you for half a second before you realize that, of course, Negan has not only fucked the occasional non-traditional guy but knows how to make that fuck go over well enough that he can empty his balls. “Second one.” You mutter, unbuttoning your pants.

“I’ll keep that in mind. You okay on your stomach?”

You nod, carefully kneeling on the rocks and pulling your pants down your thighs.

“And as far as I’m concerned your dick would probably be huge.” He chuckles as he takes your hips and guides you to prop them up as you settle on your stomach. “You got the biggest balls kinda attitude, but it’s like you don’t give a shit and that’s hot as fuck for me.”

“Thanks…” You mutter quietly, trying not to feel any particular way about the small affirmation.

“Anytime.” He presses his tip up against you, dragging it gently. “Maybe we can find you a nice big dick so you can fuck me next time. One that suits you, gotta be at least eight inches and nice round nuts for a guy as hot as you.”

He presses in, sinking in one thrust as he groans and squeezes your hips. Your back arches on instinct, the filling sensation making everything throb and heat in seconds. Your hand goes to your mouth as he starts to move, not wanting to make anything echo through the other caves.

“Taking it like a champ.” Negan mutters. “Fuck, I can get real deep with you.” He grinds into you, his balls pressing firmly against your skin. “Ya gotta let me cum inside, baby, it’s too good. Dr. Carson’s got pills and shit, just say I can.”

You nod lightly. “It’s fine, boss.”

“Yeah…” He picks up his pace, hunching over you to get deeper. “That’s my guy, huh? Giving the boss everything he can.”

You press your head against the cool rock floor and bite deep into your hand to keep the sounds at bay. Negan’s good. He knows how to fuck and fuck good. Every shove forward now brings you close and it’s one final thrust that brings Negan over that gets you too. He floods you, warm and already leaking out around his dick as it’s settled as deep in you as it can go. You shutter and groan into your hand as your body milks him dry. The two of you lay for a moment, Negan lowers your hips to rest on the ground and hums into your neck as he rests lightly on top of you.

“Next time we’re stuck, I’m sucking whatever dick you got.” He mutters against your skin, giving you a small kiss. “I know there’s shit to make it bigger, and I’ll be damned if I can’t find something. You got no idea how much I wanna get my mouth around it.”

“You plan on getting us stuck in a cave again?” You mumble, a bit tired from the intensity as you lazily shift under him to get more comfortable.

“You could just come see me.” Negan smiles against your neck. “I’d suck you off anytime.”

[featherandferns]

daylight - six

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 6 of the daylight series | read part 5 here

content warnings: sexual content (m receiving)

word count: 2.8k.

blurb: seemingly not put-off from your last encounter, JJ comes by your house and studies your photographs. There's one within the mix that makes something click in JJ's head.

“Mimsy, it was humiliating,” you groan through the camera. 

She cringes. “I mean…yeah, that is pretty rough.”

“Ah!” you cry, tossing your head into your hands. 

“What was up? Were you not turned on?”

“Of course I was!” you argue, offended at the insulation that JJ wasn’t sex walking. “I just got all in my head, and the dark and Tyler and–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Mimsy interrupts. You brave a glance at her on the facetime call. “You were thinking of Tyler whilst hot-mechanic-man was going down on you?”

“Well, we never got that far,” you mumble. 

Mimsy silences you with a look. “Why were you thinking of Tyler?”

You sigh and shake your head. Once more, your eyes dart down to the shoebox. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I just felt like I was back in that room with him all over again in December. The confusion and the–”

“Are you sure Tyler never assaulted you?” Mimsy checks. Despite her careless questioning, you know it comes from a place of concern. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” you say. “I mean, his emphasis on consent was honestly one of his finer features. One time I nodded and he went ‘no, no, you gotta use your words’.”

“Condescending prickhole,” Mimsy mutters bitterly. 

Eyebrows raised, mildly alarmed, you say, “well, yes, he was, but he was an consent advocate.”

“Gee, someone give him a gold medal. The bar really is on the fucking floor.”

You click your fingers. Mimsy could get lost in her anti-Tyler spiel easily. “Can we stay on task, please? What the hell is wrong with my body!?”

“Alright, one sec,” Mimsy says. You watch as she types away on her laptop, halfway in shot. “Okay, Google, what have you got?”

Waiting anxiously as Mimsy puruses the web, she makes a ‘eureka’ type sound. 

“Well if it makes you feel any better, apparently around seventeen percent of women aged eighteen to fifty experience vaginal dryness problems during sex. So you’re not a freak - yay!”

“Thank you for that,” you grumble. “What else does it say? Does it say why it happens?”

“Not being turned on enough is the leading cause. Insufficient foreplay type things,” Mimsy reads. 

You shake your head, fingers pressed to your lips in thought. “No, I was definitely turned it on. It was only when he was no longer kissing me and stuff…”

“Is that when the Tyler thoughts started?” Mimsy wonders. 

You nod. 

“Alright, well, other reasons are psychological. Stress, anxiety, that kind of thing. You think that might be it?”

“Maybe,” you muse. Before you can try to expand your thoughts, Mimsy’s phone chimes. She momentarily disappears as she reads the text, and you watch as she gets up in a rush. “You good?”

“Darren hit me up. He said he’ll be here in five.”

“Wait, Darren?” you gape. “Since when were you hooking up with Darren?”

“Like a week ago, at this beach get-together. He’s gotten cuter, y’know? Works out and stuff now,” she grins cheeky at the camera, licking her teeth.

It's times like these that you realise how much your lives are already changing without the other knowing. Most of the time it's easy to ignore, but every now and then the FOMO is relentless and jealousy tries to rear its ugly head. 

“Right, I gotta dash. I need to check I’m nice and clean shaven.”

“T.M.I. Mimsy. We need some boundaries."

“Yeah, you’re right,” Mimsy says before deadpanning: “have fun navigating your dry vagina.”

“Fair point,” you mumble. With that, Mimsy disappears from your screen.

You mindlessly meddle on Instagram, editing your latest post - a picture of the Pogues you took a few weeks ago - and scrolling through the feed. A text notification appears. It’s JJ.

Let me in. 

Frowning, you reply. 

Hello?? 

I’m outside lol. Let me in. 

Frown deepening, you ditch your phone and rush down the stairs. Sure enough, when you open the door, JJ’s there. He’s wearing a t-shirt and shorts, and those same damned combat boots. No cap, messy tendrils of hair sticking out any which way. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I was bored.”

“Oh,” you reply. JJ had never come into your house before. Always picked you up or dropped you off outside. “Well, come in, I guess.”

JJ gladly does so. Wanders through the doorway, hands in his pockets. 

“What you been up to today?” you wonder. 

“Went to Heyward’s with Pope to earn a couple bucks,” JJ says as he eyes up the decor. Most things are unpacked now, having been in Kildare for almost two months. Faux family photos line the mantle of the fire which doesn’t work. JJ peruses them. “You were a cute kid.”

“Thanks,” you say. “You want a drink or something?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, pulling out his flask. You roll your eyes as he takes a swig of what you assume is whiskey. “Where your parents at?”

“Trying to rekindle their romance on a weekend trip to my uncle’s place,” you say. “I was just gonna edit the last lot of photos I took at Kook Club.”

“They any good?” he asks. 

The two of you had worked the latest Gala dinner. It had been to “raise money” for the already pristine, state-of-the-art tennis courts. Whilst they were charging guests a thousand dollars per ticket, you and JJ left with less than a hundred bucks for ten hours worth of work. 

“They’re alright. Rafe and his posse are in the back of a bunch, sneaking drinks, so I need to edit that crap out,” you huff. You start up the stairs and JJ follows. Opening the door, you guide JJ into your bedroom. 

“Ta da,” you say. “My humble abode.”

“Cute bear,” JJ teases, pointedly looking at your well-cuddled stuffie.

You rush to grab him, hiding him under the pillow and nervously laughing when you turn back to him. 

His eyes gravitate to your pinboard of pictures. A collection of your favourites. Friends mostly, with about two of your parents. Lots of Vancouver. The Pogues. JJ. Things you took whilst people-watching. Most of the photos are pictures of the neighbourhood and town. Beaches and trees and people going about their days. Boats bobbing on water and fisherman dragging up crab-cages. Children biking down the street and old couples sat on their porches like something from a Suburbia advert in the fifties. There’s an intrigued slant to his brow as he takes in the world you see. 

Then, JJ plucks one from the masses and holds it with care, something seemingly unnatural for someone so energetic. You can’t help but study him as he studies your picture. It’s one you took almost two weeks ago, of a man that you saw smoking a cigarette outside of a dive bar. There was something about him that seemed so tired and worn, like he’d wasted his happiness on something unforgiving. JJ’s smile fades. There’s an urge to ask him if he's okay, though you’re not sure why. 

He returns it to the board and deliberates over some more. You try and think of something to say but come up with nothing. 

“These are really good,” JJ absent-mindedly tells you, eyes trained on the pictures. 

“Thanks.”

JJ smiles at the one you took of him. It’s a strange smile: like he’s surprised by his own candidness. Then he physically freezes. You follow his trained vision to a picture hidden under layers. Oh no. 

“Is that…”

JJ takes it from the board, careful not to disturb the others, and stares at it for a painful length of time. All you can do is fidget nervously, eyes wide, and watch him piece together the picture. Frowning, he holds it up to you as he turns. 

“When did you take this?”

“Um…”

It’s of him, laughing from afar, standing before a sunsetting sky, the sea in the distance. You try to grab it off him but his reflexes are too fast. JJ holds it above his head, out of your reach. 

“Just one time at the beach.”

“Nuh-uh,” JJ says, a grin starting to unfurl. “You’re lying. When’d you take this? I don’t remember you taking this.”

“Just a dumb candid I got at this kegger one time. It was ages ago,” you hurriedly say. 

And all the puzzle pieces click in JJ’s mind. The grin comes through in full effect and he points a finger in your face. Your stomach sinks through the floor. 

“It was you!”

“W-what?” you stammer.

“You were the peeping Tom at Chloe’s kegger! I knew I didn’t fucking imagine it!” JJ announces. 

No, no, bad, bad, bad. 

“Holy shit! I’ve been trying to figure out who it was and it was you the whole time!”

“Don’t be a dick, okay? I just like people-watching. Clearly!” you defend, gesturing to the pictures. 

“I’m not being a dick,” JJ says, enthusiasm dwindling. He lowers the photo and looks at it again. A smile returns, sweeter this time. “It’s a really good photo.”

“Course you’d say that,” you snort, taking it back. “You’re in love with yourself.”

“Damn straight,” he gloats. He watches you place the photo in your bedside drawer. “Putting that in your wank bank for later, then?”

“Careful,” you snarl, shooting him a glare. He cackles.

ADHD brain in full swing, JJ takes to investigating your cameras. “You ever take photos of yourself?”

“No.”

“Ever had people take them for you?”

“Look, some people photograph well,” you say, gesturing to JJ, “and some people don’t.”

JJ quirks a brow. “Are you saying you’re not photogenic?”

You make a face of ‘well, duh’ and JJ laughs incredulously.

“Oh, bullshit. You’re smoking! You’d take a great picture.”

“Well, history proves otherwise,” you laugh, flopping onto your bed. 

JJ looks back to the cameras. At his extended quiet, you gain the sense that he’s plotting something. Concocting. “What?”

“Just thinkin’,” he hums. He grabs your Polaroid camera, turning to you. “This charged?”

“It’s battery powered, JJ,” you say. “So, yes.”

“Got paper in it?”

“That little dial on the right will say.”

JJ checks and a grin reappears. “Lie down.”

“Excuse me?”

“Humour me,” JJ says, “lie down.”

Rolling your eyes, you comply, lying down like a corpse. “Happy?”

“No, fucking…” JJ poorly  imitates a sensual pose. You giggle. “Give it some effort.”

Sighing, as if it’s some great effort, you do as he asks. JJ grins and lifts the camera. With that, you crack up and raise a hand, trying to push the lens away. He snaps a photo before you can. 

“JJ!”

“Come on, come on! Pose it up, girl,” he urges. 

Aware that he won’t quit, you sit up and smile reluctantly with a lopsided head tilt. JJ takes another photo. 

“Okay, gimme something sexy.”

“Sexy?” you guffaw. 

“Yeah! Something for my wank bank.”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter. You tug your shirt off before you can overthink it and lean back on your arms, dressed in pyjama shorts and bralette. JJ’s grin takes up half his face. “Happy?”

“That’s it baby, work it…”

At his compliments and praises, you entertain him further. Your confidence blossoms under the lens and you start to understand why people like being photographed. It makes you feel important. Beautiful, like you’re something worthy to be captured. You find yourself grabbing at your tit with one hand, staring doe-eyed into the lens. Another photo has you teasing at showing your nipple, pulling down the lip of your bra.

As JJ continues to snap away, you see his dick getting harder and harder under his shorts. When the camera runs out of film, JJ dumps it on your desk and he practically pounces on you. Consumes you with a heady kiss, a hand reaching up to your jaw, tilting your head to deepen it. You’re obsessed with the way JJ kisses. It’s so forward, unapologetic and proud. Tender and telling, dominating and delicate.

When his hands palm at your crotch over your clothes, your heart sinks. Using all the strength you have, you grab his shoulders and force him down onto his back, on your bed. An impressed, bewildered smile lights up his face. It’s quickly overshadowed with lust.

Now straddling his chest, JJ pulls you back down with both hands, bringing your lips to his. You both grin into the messy kiss. 

“Don’t think I forgot what you said during hot seat,” JJ mumbles out through the kiss. You don’t bother to answer. Start making work of his throat, empowered by the new position. “About your favourite position.”

Your only response is to rut back against his hard-on. JJ stammers out a groan which seems to quiet him. You push his shirt up just as he did yours the other night, and take to praising his toned chest. Lightly trace your tongue over his nipples. Who would have thought JJ was a switch? Not you. 

“Please, baby, fuck,” JJ stammers. 

“You want my mouth?” you tease, rubbing him through his shorts. 

“God, yes, yes,” he begs, eyes closed tight with pleasure. 

You drag it out. Leisurely free him from his shorts and boxers. Take long, slow kisses right up from his calves, guiding your trial with your nails. When you finally take his leaking tip in your mouth, JJ grabs at the sheets with a moan. You go down on him, varying between fast and slow, deep and shallow. Suckle at the tip just to hear the sounds he makes, sat up on his forearms to watch. 

“Takin’ me so well,” JJ groans. One of his hands fists into your hair. “Fuck…That’s it.”

You hum around his dick, grabbing at the flesh of his thigh for purchase as you work him closer and closer to the edge. He pulls you off him before he comes, spilling onto his chest with a shuddering groan. You sit back on your haunches, wiping at your mouth, as JJ sits up. You grab the box of tissues from beside your bed and offer them to him. He’s almost blushing as he takes them, cleaning himself up. 

“Christ, you Vancouver girls are built different, huh?” he says. 

You laugh, flustered. “Well, I can’t speak for all of us.”

“Don’t need you to,” JJ smirks, reaching out for you by your hip bone. “I got the perfect one right here.”

He easily pulls you into his lap with one arm. Dumbs your thoughts with a kiss, tongue swirling deliciously in your mouth. But when one of his hands ventures lower, you pull away with a small smile. He tries to chase your mouth with his but you place a hand to the apex of his neck, keeping him at bay. He frowns.

Tracing the pad of your thumb under one of his eyes, you quietly say, “maybe another night.”

JJ’s reaction mirrors that of a child being told they can’t have a candy bar. “Wait, seriously?”

“I’m tired,” you lie with a laugh. Pecking his lips, you smile. “Worn me out.”

“Barely fucking touched you,” JJ grumbles, disgruntled. You move off him and grab the mess of tissues, filtering them into your bedroom bin. You can feel JJ watching you as you gather the polaroid photos from the floor. “Is this about the other night?”

Your lack of reply is reply enough. 

“That was probably a fluke! I read somewhere that dehydration can cause it,” JJ tells you. You make your way back over with a small smile. JJ reaches out a hand and grabs you by your hip. He leans forward and places a kiss to your stomach through your t-shirt. Looks up at you, innocent through his lashes. “Just let me at you and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“As romantic as that is,” you sardonically say, looping your fingers through his hair and gently easing him away, “I just wanna go to sleep. You staying over?”

“Is that cool with you?” JJ checks. 

“Mhm,” you say. “I’m gonna go wash up, yeah?”

“Alright,” JJ replies, already tugging off his shirt. 

When you’re finished in the bathroom you find JJ under your sheets, scrolling on his phone. You settle in beside him. Your bed is just slightly bigger than a twin. It gives you a good excuse to cuddle up against him. Sighing, JJ clicks off his phone and lays back. 

“You wanna get the light?” he wonders, absentmindedly stroking your shoulder.

“No,” you mumble against his sturdy frame. “I sleep with it on.”

“Oh. Alright.”

JJ coils an arm around your midsection, bending to your form like ivy wills to a building. And how strange is it to think, that as you and JJ fall asleep tangled up with each other, that a box of your ex-boyfriend's things lies under the bed.

read part seven here!

taglist:

@princessuki21 | @psyches-reid | @heybank | @avengersgirllorianna | @rrosiitas | @yourmumstoy | @jjsfavgirl | @void21 | @fictionalcomforts | @gsp420 | @redhead1180 | @wearemadeofstardust0 | @mrs-jjmaybank | @ifilwtmfc | @heybank | @lilyw1235 | @belle101200

[planetdream]

STRANGE DREAMS !

CHARACTERS ! incubus/demon!hyunjin, reader

GENRE ! horror, smut [minors dni]

WORDS ! 7.8k [more or less]

SYNOPSIS ! sometimes, you meet a strange man in your dreams. this is one of those times.

THIS FIC CONTAINS ! edible-fueled writing. horror [gore—body horror: descriptions of blood and mutilated bodies. frightening figures and situations. description of drowning. nightmares and sleep paralysis. demons, and thus], references to biblical lore [christianity] and small references to milton's paradise lost [if you squint], and smut [dubcon—sexual manipulation and sex pollen, sorta. d/s dynamics—predator versus prey. possession/corruption. vaginal and anal sex. pussy and face slapping. teasing. fingering. spit. squirting. face fucking. degradation. strength kink sorta. sex with a demon—in demon form. monster cock. lots of cum]

⚠️ if you’re sensitive to gore, be advised before reading. i tried to be tame and brief with descriptions, and although i consider it to be light gore, i understand everyone has their limits. so proceed with caution.

💌 posting this earlier than originally planned cuz why not!! got the idea for this fic a year ago after an edible. it’s very weird n self indulgent but i’m glad i finally finished it !! i hope someone enjoys it <3 i always appreciate feedback !!

You’re certain that it’s the sky you’re gazing into—though, you’re unsure because your vision is unclear, a milky haze clouding your pupils—but the longer you look at it, the more it spins and distorts, bringing on nausea that rises in waves from the pit of your stomach to the top of your head. The nausea brings on a discomfort; dryness in your mouth and a straining in your eyes, and because of that, you’re left with no choice but to close your eyes and let your other senses take over. Darkness surrounds you, and it feels like you have risen into the sky, despite grass being beneath you, and it’s soft, comfortable; almost like you could sink deeper into it before reaching the hard, frigid dirt. You grab the blades of grass with a tight fist, tugging on it, but still unwilling to pull it out as if you would cause harm. Then, the grass all around you becomes apparent—alive—moving against your skin in a response back to you. It tickles all over, building the realization that you lay naked in the grass, though unwilling to get up or cover yourself; lost within the pure contentment of the situation. 

There is a wave that sways over you—hot, heavy, and harsh, yet not too overbearing in its nature. You don’t know why, but there’s a sense of familiarity about when you are. It’s as if you’ve been here before, a distant memory that both chills and warms you. 

Along with the burbling sound of water pouring into itself, the smell of water whisks in the cool breeze—slightly sweet, green and alluring; whistling your name, calling out for you to come over. The whispering is intriguing, full of temptation but slightly melancholic; no words need be said, yet you understand the language of the waters. The whispers are loud, blaring; not in the sense of volume, but by how jarring it is—unlike anything you’ve heard and yet, it’s something you feel so acquainted with, like a long-time friend. The water cries, begging for you to bathe within it or drink from it and promises a sweet taste that could be comparable to honey and lemons. 

When you open your eyes again, everything is clear. The plants around you are breathing, communicating through the whistles of the wind; and just like the water, the plants cry out as well. Though, the cries of the flowers and trees are far different from the cries of the water. The cries of the water nearby sing a great harmony of promise and belief, whereas, the cries of the many trees screech of terror and agitation. They warn of what horrors can be witnessed here, of what great dangers are lurking within them. A sweet song of catastrophe. The flowers, however,—with captivating colors unlike anything you’ve ever seen, yet familiar; like the names of them are on the tip of your tongue, begging to be acknowledged and praised—cry differently. It’s a murmur most comparable to the feeling of silk against your hands, but also the feeling of goosebumps after a close encounter with something you shouldn’t have crossed paths with. A comfortable discomfort. 

You look around, fully taking in the picture of what presents itself around you. There are butterflies varying in size and species—they sing as well, something similar to a war cry; morbid and haunting, though still beautiful and in great faith. Dragonflies buzz around, securing their place and status within the area. So much life here—at peace in this paradise. There’s some kind of haze or mist in the air, silent and still, tranquil. The sun is bright, blazing hot and practically piercing, yet despite the warmth, the air is slightly cool. The sight of your surroundings further cements your previous feelings of familiarity. Yet it also uncovers sheer discomfort. Yes, the area is familiar, but there’s something unsettling and distinctly different about it. A discomfort layering in the air, horribly beautiful and homely, but pandemonium is lurking, lurched and hidden within the shadows of this seeming paradise. 

You roll over in the grass—laying on your stomach and lifting your head to see beyond what you could before. Not too far from your current position is a waterfall, continuing its whispers. The spring below is surrounded by unusual pink flowers and huge rocks covered in thick, green and yellow moss. Before you can process it, you’re on your feet and moving towards the spring. Once there, you kneel, gazing at your reflection in the waters. It’s almost too much to process but it’s you. It is you and yet it’s like the face you wear does not belong to you. Uncanny and off putting. 

Movement. On your left, deep in the periphery of the spring. Your eyes shift, tracking whatever chooses to present itself. A swan. Elegant and pristine. It cranes its neck, beak pointing towards you in acknowledgment. You make full eye contact, and a chill runs up your spine causing your hair to stand on edge. An inflamed feeling of danger sparks within you, and before you have time to fight or run as far away as possible—“There you are!” 

The voice comes from your right, but when you look in that direction, there’s nothing there.  “So this is where you ran off to.”

The physical energy of the presence behind you is familiar, but strikingly overwhelming—it crawls up your skin like sharp nails, giving you goosebumps—you don’t need to turn around to recognize it. It’s Him. You’re unsure of what he is, exactly, but sometimes you meet him in your dreams. Though deep down you know that his existence and connection to you reaches well beyond the odd worlds of your dream realm. When he touches you, your surroundings change. The waterfall that you were once at is yards away, tiny in perspective. Despite having not moved an inch, it seems that every time you blink, you’re further and further into the woods; trees surrounding you and most certain to bury any noises emitted within their leaves.

The rustling of the tree leaves sounds like a screech, almost like sharp nails against a chalkboard—sinking deep and clashing, scraping out the porcelain enamel. The sound alone affects your brain, echoing in your mind, blaring enough to make you hold your hand against your head. The sound stops once he presses his hand against your cheek—so cold it feels like burning fire, almost scalding enough to melt off your skin; but you do not flinch, nor do you back away, frozen in place. The feeling of his skin against yours evokes an emotional aching so deep, you can feel it festering in the pit of your stomach, spreading to your organs and seeping into your veins—and somehow there is comfort in that. 

He’s speaking, and while you’re unable to make out the words he is saying, you can tell that his voice is soft, pillowy like a cloud. Honey-laced words dipping from his tongue as if he’s trying to convince or ask something of you. You avert your gaze, unsure of if you actually want to meet his eyes. 

His presence scares you just as much as it calms you. Intriguing, and homely but also frightening and domineering despite simply just standing there. Something about his demeanor feels off, or distorted, at the very least, as if he’s not actually in front of you. As if he was a result of your imagination instead of directly in your eyes view. He’s real, a hand against your skin, almost close enough for you to feel his breath lightly against your skin; and at the very least, he knows you. You know him, too, you think; of course, you’ve seen him in your dreams, but you’re inclined to believe you know him from somewhere else. 

“Where are we?” You ask him, avoiding eye contact, shaking away from the contact his hand makes with you. Jarringly, it doesn’t feel like you said anything at all. Your mouth was moving and the words presented themselves in your mind and yet you can’t hear a single thing you’re saying. The familiar fire within your throat when you speak is no longer there. 

“The Garden. It’s perfect here, isn’t it?” He gives you a small smile, seemingly understanding your indistinct confusion. Then, as he speaks up again, his voice drips with something resembling woe. “You and I used to live here a long time ago. I visit every so often, dip my legs into that spring back there, and then I reminisce on how pure life was back then before…” 

You think he’s talking again, but once again, you’re unable to hear him. You’re too busy lost in his face. The urge to press your lips against his gets stronger as you’re next to him. Then you realize he’s naked as well, and your entire body gets warmer. There’s a budding ache inside you that’s all too familiar, growing at a rapid pace. It’s almost like your body is on fire as a result of being within his presence. Hormones floating, hair standing on edge, your more sensual and raw instincts ready to unveil and latch onto him at any time. Head hurting the longer you’re in his presence until it all just stops. 

Everything stops. The trees are no longer rustling, birds no longer humming. There’s no splashing of the waterfall nor whistling in the wind. Just pure silence. The silence is uncomfortable, and causes you to stand still in your tracks like a deer, scared that if you make any sudden moves a predator might attack within the blink of an eye; jumping on you and tearing you apart in a bloody mess of flesh and organs flying everywhere, painting the fallen deep green leaves a perfect contrast of crimson. 

“Run,” He says. There’s nothing in his voice; no emotion nor a slight hint at what he’s thinking. But the word echoes in your mind, and sends a chill down your spine, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on edge in either curiosity or total blood curdling fear. 

“What do you mean?”

“You need to run,” His voice drops lower. “And don’t get caught.”

So you turn your heels and you run, not willing to ask him twice. Unsure of the direction you’re going in, but the further you seem to travel, the more that discomfort begins to settle in the pit of your stomach. You pick up the pace—one foot in front of the other, careful not to trip over yourself—but a small part of you isn’t sure if the danger that you’re sensing is real or just a part of a sick and twisted game. Instead of running away from the source of your terror, it seems as though you’re running towards it, no matter the direction you run. Twigs and leaves snapping and crunching beneath your feet, but it causes you no pain. In fact, the only thing you can feel in the moment is the thumping of your heart and every single milliliter of blood marching through your vessels.

You admittedly don’t make it too far before you’re cowering, ducking against a large tree. Heart racing with such speed that you’re almost positive it would break free of your ribcage, piercing its way out of your chest. The tree, however, as quickly as you found it, is no longer a place of solace, as you hear a long, loud, and deep growl to your left. The deep guttural sound echoing, slicing through the trees like machetes. You’ve got to move, but you fear that if you do, whatever it is that made that sound, might attack, ripping you to shreds before you’ve even got a chance to exhale. There’s a roar once again, this time uncomfortably closer to your hiding place. You stand still, and the surrounding area of the forest is suddenly extremely silent. No rustle of leaves or echoes of birds, but a loud silence accompanied by a buzzing noise; like a horde of flies marching their way towards you. 

“Hyunjin,” You call out. The name slips from your mouth with ease, as if you’ve been calling him by that name all along. In the blink of an eye, just as you exhale his name, your surroundings change; suddenly submerged in water. 

You emerge from the cold water, barely having time to register your surroundings before you’re being forced back into the water; claw-like hands scraping into your scalp, sharp and heavy against your skull. It’s hard to make your way above the water because of the forceful weight and before you know it, attempting to hold your breath is useless due to the water infiltrating your lungs. You’re flailing and thrashing around, arms lifting—hands curling into a claws, attempting to grab onto something, only to slash through the water—and legs kicking mindlessly, trying to escape what is uncertain; heart rate accelerating as panic fully sets in. This seems to go on for nearly fifteen minutes, being edged by death over and over; blacking out then awakening time and time again. Vision blocked by the salty darkness of the water, ensuring to agitate you with fright, unsure of when it’s all going to end.

Abruptly, you’re dragged upwards by your hair, back falling harshly against rock, helping you cough up the water in your throat. It feels like it takes minutes for you to learn how to breathe again, attempting to do that and calm down enough to assess your surroundings. You’re coughing so much you think you might cough up an intestine, throat burning with each assault, chest sinking and expanding and then sinking again. It takes many moments of coming back to yourself that you notice that there is no rough hand against your scalp. Alarmed, moving around frantically, backing up toward the closest stone wall. Scanning the area, there’s no human nor animal, nor creature of any nature in sight. Not even a single insect. Not even Hyunjin.

You lean over, though not too far in case history repeats itself, to peer into the water; there isn’t even a single fish, as far as you can tell, the waters quickly descending into a vast, black pit of the unknown. Overhead, the sky that was once shining brightly now dimming rather quickly, accompanied by dark, angry clouds. The winds pick up, swirling atop of the trees, emitting a drawn out whistle comparable to wind chimes; of which you can surprisingly hear over splashing and sputtering of the nearby waterfall. Large roars of thunder stomping in, but no lightning accompanies it. You begin to curl into yourself, attempting to shield yourself from whatever is out there, nature or otherwise.

You close your eyes for five simple seconds, and when you open them, Hyunjin is right next to you. He doesn’t notice you’re awake at first until you shift, catching his attention. He turns to you and you avert your eyes from him. He’s talking but it’s all inaudible, unimportant. Something about his presence in this moment is unsettling. Slightly off from the initially odd behavior he’d be exhibiting. You just nod to his words. “Found you like this about an hour ago. You shook so hard until you stopped and fell asleep.” 

Hyunjin holds out a hand for you, which you’re hesitant to grab, but the next thing you know, you’re standing slowly; legs shaking as you attempt to regain strength. You hold onto his arm for extra support, slightly struggling in your steps as he leads you, hand in hand, towards a small cave hidden behind the pour of the waterfall. It’s hardly a hike, but Hyunjin makes sure you get to the other size carefully. “The rocks are slippery. You’ve had a few accidents here before.”

A lot of Hyunjin’s words are vague. Referrals to past events involving the two of you, all of which you cannot remember. There’s a feeling that you’ve been here before, but you’re unable to prove it, or make those connections other than your gut feeling and Hyunjin’s comments. 

You’re hesitant to walk into the cave, the inside being pitch black. Hyunjin walks in before you, completely fearless, as if there is no potential danger. At the snap of a finger, there’s suddenly a fire going on within the cave. From you place you can see how the fire illuminates Hyunjin’s figure just a bit, and as you walk closer—finding a bit more comfort now that you can see, and because you know Hyunjin is there waiting for you, willing to guide you into and protect you from the unknown—you admire how the flames of the fire accentuates Hyunjin’s facial features. He was made by God, sculpted from the finest clay and molded into an individual with otherworldly beauty. Hyunjin holds a torch-like stick, fire blazing at the tip of it, used as momentary safety. “I know somewhere we can go.”

He then points into the deep darkness of the cave. You don’t want to go deeper into the cave. Right where you stand is just fine, and most importantly, it’s safe. Hyunjin reads the hesitant look that’s displayed on your face, but he urges you. “You’ve got me, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” 

And his smile, as beautiful and perfect as it is, seemed crooked, faked for just a moment. He holds out his hand, and without even thinking about it, you take his hand in yours as if you had no choice despite the unease boiling inside of you. His smile curves up again and he turns his head, now guiding you down the cold, dark cave. 

The entire time you’re walking, there’s nothing. Hyunjin doesn’t speak and neither do you. The walls on either side all appear the same, dirt colored and oddly smooth, with not even a small crater to make a difference. No matter how long you walk, nor how far, the dark pit continues into nothingness, an upsetting kind of emptiness. Despite Hyunjin being next to you, despite holding his hand, he’s like a stone wall. He makes no effort to speak, nor to even acknowledge you in the slightest despite leading you somewhere, it’s like you’re nothing but a mere bug, nothing to stress about or keep entertained. You feel nothing but loneliness at the pit of your stomach; the only things keeping you company are the thumping of your feet against the ground and the flickering of the flame Hyunjin holds. 

It’s a long time of walking before you realize that this cave is actually a tunnel. The tiny white dot of light grows bigger and bigger with every step taken. It feels like forever until you and Hyunjin reach the end of the tunnel. When you do, you’re happy to see light again. The sky now bright and blue, prohibiting any angry clouds of heavy rain. Air fresh and inviting, free of any worry and apprehension. Whatever doubts or dreadful feelings once felt before are now completely an afterthought. 

“C’mon let’s go.” Hyunjin discards the torch, dragging you with him by your hand, grip tight against you. 

He leads you over to a flower field where flowers ranging in color, size, and species reside. The field is colorful, bright and happy, like a source of glee. Inviting you over by whisper—maybe it’s a honey-filled hum—so sweet and kind. The deeper you walk into the flower field, you notice how enticing the air smells—sweet like a pastry, yet fresh like petrichor. The longer you and Hyunjin walk, hand and hand, the more at ease and loose you feel, almost drunk, mouth welling up with excess saliva. The two of you eventually reach a point to rest, laying on the grass, no words exchanged between you two. Simply just basking in the sun, deeply breathing in the fragrance of the nature that surrounds you. 

There’s a passage of time before you start to feel it; an itch that’s tempting you to scratch; a sudden burst in fire. A fire that begins at the pit of your stomach and continues to your core, flaring; spreading further throughout your body in static-like jolts. Your breaths change from relaxed and soft, quiet, to heavy and noticeable; and suddenly the atmosphere feels hotter, small beads of sweat collecting against your forehead. You shift, rubbing your thighs in effort to satiate your sudden cravings, wanting to grind your hips up in search of friction. Growing more desperate and needy by the second. 

This is when you look towards Hyunjin, rolling onto your stomach, head resting in your hands as you gaze up at his sitting form; and you actually notice him. You notice his nakedness, every single inch of him on display. He’s like a god, with his honey-like skin that glows and glistens in the sunlight. Toned and defined arm and thigh muscles that flex with nearly every movement he makes. He was meant to be admired, made to be worshiped—having men and women alike kneeling at his feet and imploring him to fuck and defile them. If only you knew how much he agrees. These thoughts almost embarrass you, yet they feel so natural. And your eyes drip lower to admire Hyunjin’s more intimate parts. Cock hanging low, thick, and you’re not too sure if he’s hard or not but he’s big. Mouth watering as you admire his dick: the natural curve to it, how there’s three thick, prominent veins that disperse along his shaft (at least from what you can see at this angle) that are pulsing, just begging for your tongue to roll over them. 

You’re pulled away from your fantasy when Hyunjin clears his throat. With an eyebrow raised and a glimmer in his eye, he gives a small smile to you, softly, “You need something from me?”

“Maybe,” You wink at him. You sit up to face him, hand making contact with his knee, fingertips trailing up and down his thigh in a teasing matter. You get a little closer to him, skin against skin, eyes fixated on his cock as your fingertips dance against his inner thigh.

That’s when Hyunjin kisses you, lips soft and plump; and when he presses them against your lips you feel like you're in heaven. At first, your lips barely touch, meeting in small pecks, sweet kisses that eventually deepen into something desperate. The kisses are open mouthed, wet and sloppy, Hyunjin’s tongue makes its way into your mouth naturally, exploring inside of you. The kiss only breaks a few times; when you place your hands flat against Hyunjin’s chest, pushing away slightly just to get air. Each time the kiss breaks, Hyunjin smiles with a small chuckle, licking his lips before leaning in again, forehead pressed to yours. 

You break the kiss once more, now focusing more on Hyunjin’s cock. Spitting onto your hand and wrapping it around his shaft, squeezing lightly. Tight fist working up and down Hyunjin’s length, biting your lip when you feel him twitch within your hand. He bites his lip, holding back a moan. Hyunjin stops you before you get too deep into it, instead choosing to take the lead. 

Hyunjin plants another kiss to your lips before kissing down your neck, trying his best to take his time to really savor you, but he soon grows impatient. Pushing you down flat against the grass. Quick, wet kisses in several places down your body before he plants one last kiss right above where he really wants to be. There, he wastes no time getting to work, tongue slithering out almost snake-like to lick against your cunt. He really takes in the first taste of his meal, wetness sitting against his tongue, practically melting in his mouth, he moans. He dives in once again, lips and tongue against your cunt, licking and sucking and moaning; fully savoring you. 

“Taste so fucking good,” He breathes once to come up for air, not that he actually needs it. Continuing to lap at your cunt, lips kissing and sucking at your clit, moaning into your heat. Hands coming to your thighs to grip, fingernails piercing, spreading you open wider for him. 

You grind against his face, hands instinctively going to his hair, fingers tangling within it and pulling with eagerness. Hyunjin groans into you at the slight sting of you pulling at his hair. Tongue not letting up against your clit, following your cunt with every movement you make, not letting you get a break from the feeling of him against you. His mouth domes around your clit, sucking you in, teeth lightly grazing against your bud, momentarily making your back arch. Mid arch, Hyunjin slips two fingers into you. Slight sting as he stretches you out, long digits buried to the knuckles inside of you upon initial thrust. 

Soon planting open mouthed kisses against your cunt, fingers working their way in and out of you at an obnoxious pace, curling naturally. Between Hyunjin’s tongue and fingers, in combination with his lips planting kisses against your cunt in between sloppy licks, it’s all too overwhelming. Cunt clenching around his fingers, pulling them in to beg for more, which Hyunjin promptly gives. Fingers fucking into you faster, his other palm pressing down directly against your pelvis. 

It’s all too much, but you don’t want it to stop. The feeling of your impending orgasm has you shaking, practically vibrating, unable to brace yourself for it. Tears pooling down the side of your face as you moan out for him. The tips of his fingers repeatedly hit the soft, gushy spot deep inside of you, biting his lip as he watches your face contort. Body stiffening within his hold, unallowed to thrash around, only able to take what he’s giving you. Though unable to completely relax into it, fighting off the feeling of eventual bliss. 

Hyunjin lets out a breathy moan at your defiance. Thumb massaging your clit, slowly but surely dragging you further off the edge. Hyunjin finally gets you to relax into his touch, into the feeling of temptation fully engulfing your soul. That’s when it takes over. Your vision blurs, almost going black, mouth agape as you let out cracked moans. Chest getting hot, tightening as you cum, releasing all stress and tension, absolutely melting into this state that makes you feel like you’re floating. Yet your body is only laid out in the grass, legs spread wide for him, as your cunt spills all over his fingers, wetness squirting all over Hyunjin’s forearm and thighs. Tongue desperately trying to lap up whatever he can as his fingers slip away from your cunt. The palm of his hand coming down against your sore cunt once, making you moan out and close your thighs, back arching, pain stinging in the best possible way that leaves you aching for more. Not fully satisfied. 

Hyunjin is kneeling over you now, a large hand around his cock. Angry red tip all pretty and glossed with precum that dares to fall onto your skin like delicious raindrops. His cock twitches in his hand, blood rushing, pulsing in the veins that decorate his shaft. It all just makes you think about finally having his cock in you. The burning of the stretch, the feel of him reaching places that haven’t been accessed before, not to mention the feeling of his warm cum filling you up, ounce by ounce. 

When Hyunjin pushes into you, you nearly lose your breath, caught in a long inhale. He’s nice enough to push into you slowly, but it’s only because he wants to savor the feeling (though, Hyunjin fully intends to use you however he wants for as long as he pleases). His cock is thick, stretches you beyond anything you’ve experienced before; though instead of being painful, your body is laced, wrapped in pleasure, and the sensation of thrill rushes through your veins. You spread your legs further apart, welcoming more of Hyunijn, hoping that he pushes into you deeper; overcome with desire and want. 

“So fucking wet,” Hyunjin pins his cock deeper into you, pulling out quickly, teasingly. “Need more of me?”

You nod frantically, bottom lip slipping away from the clutches of your teeth. When you look up at Hyunjin, his eyes are fixated on your cunt. Tongue peeking out of his mouth, swirling over his bottom lip, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and into his eyebrow. He’s concentrated, breathing so heavily that he almost begins emitting an inhumane growl, but he dials it back quickly. Instead of pushing all of his length inside of you, Hyunjin pulls out completely, tapping the head of his dick against your cunt, sliding his cock from left to right against your clit. You watch as he does this, listening to the pornographic sound of your wetness, cunt clenching around nothing, just begging to finally be filled. 

“Please…” You find yourself begging. Eyebrows strung together as you rock your hips up and down, trying to catch Hyunjin’s cock only for him to move away, preventing you from chasing your pleasure. His hand comes down harsh against your cunt in succession, serving as a warning. 

“So cockhungry, can’t you be patient?” Hyunjin continues his tease, repeated light slaps against your cunt with his dick. His cock is replaced by his hand, two fingers dragging down from your clit to your slit, thrusting them into you quickly. Two fingers are replaced by three, and three, by four. He moves quickly, tips of his fingers curled and hitting exactly where you need them. He fucks your moans out of you, reveling in the way that your cries spill out just like the wetness of your cunt, and he’s barely doing anything but fingering you. And you’re this fucked up, melting into his fingers, giving him nearly everything he wants. “Always so pathetic and slutty.”

Agreements slip from your mouth, just in hopes that he’ll give you what you need if you’re good for him. Hyunjin just laughs at you, you’re certainly the cutest plaything he’s had—he knows he’s got to take his time with you. Almost wanting to slip his thumb inside of you as well, Hyunjin decides against it, continuing to fuck you with four of his fingers, still unrelenting in his pace. You, however, are lost for words; taking every ounce of what Hyunjin is giving you. A burning sensation rising in the pit of your stomach, hips rising from the ground, but Hyunjin never stops. Even when you’re leaking all over him, thighs shaking and threatening to close around his arm, he doesn’t stop fucking his fingers into you; not until he’s sure he’s got every ounce from you. Cum dripping down his arm as he takes and takes from you, forcing you to squirt all over him and yourself once again. Sliding his fingers out of you with yet another slap against your cunt.

His hand is around his cock again—wet with your cum, smearing it all over his cock—squeezing at its base as he brings his tip to your entrance. But he teases again, merely slapping his cock against your cunt. You arch into him, grinding your hips against his cock but Hyunjin makes no notice of you and your antics. Eventually getting bored, pulling his cock away from you. 

“Kneel,” He speaks curtly, standing. However, you do not move fast enough for his liking. “Don’t make me have to do it for you.” 

He does anyway. Grabbing you by the hair, dragging you up and forcing you onto your knees, skin grinding into the grass, sure to have bruises on them. Hyunjin’s hand stays in your hair, tugging as his free hand wraps around his cock. He yanks your head to the side, proceeding to slap his cock against your cheek, precum oozing from the tip. 

“Open.” He says, and you promptly follow his instructions. “Looks like I’ve got a smart one.” 

Hyunjin spits into your mouth, globs of saliva coating your tongue. His cock closely follows, dipping the tip in and out of your mouth quickly. He shifts, though, choosing to slide his entire length into your mouth, lips closing around him; but Hyunjin doesn’t allow it. Cock sliding out of your mouth, resulting in Hyunjin slapping you on the cheek with it again; saliva and cum sticking to your cheek. “Keep your mouth open wide.”

You adjust for him, just wanting to be able to take him and satisfy his cravings. He slides his cock back into your mouth, fully, giving minimum time to adjust to neither his speed nor his size. Mouth stretched to capacity, jaws aching and burning but Hyunjin is completely relishing in all the gagging and choking you do. You’re getting dizzier the longer his dick is in your mouth, tip kissing, nearly ramming, the back of your throat due to Hyunjin’s pacing. You feel like you’re on fire but yet you’re still able to relax into it. It isn’t long before you start moaning around his cock, absentmindedly rocking your hips back and forth whenever you taste a hint of the salty sweet substance. Hyunjin then pulls out, saliva spilling all over your chin and connecting in tiny stings to his cock. Smacking your cheek with his cock another three times, erupting in a full belly laugh, smiling at the way you’re just a completed fucked out mess, barely registering a thing he’s doing or saying to you. 

“Look at that,” Hyunjin releases you from his clutches. He pushes you back by your shoulder, making you catch yourself from falling back with the palms of your hands. When you look down, you’re completely soaked, wetness dripping down your thighs and onto the ground, pooling messily onto a leaf, spilling off of its edges and soaking into the dirt beneath it. “Fucking filthy little mess you’ve made. Cunt just begging to be fucked, huh?” 

The question is rhetorical but you still nod; even going as far as to whine a little bit, hips moving seemingly without your control. Hyunjin takes pleasure in this small action, kneeling down to your level. He licks his fingers, noting that he doesn’t need to at all, and swipes them over your clit, one, two times before his ring and middle finger are sliding into your cunt. Fingertips meeting the exact place you need them each time he slides them into you. You’re clenching around his fingers now, and Hyunjin licks his lips, pulling away from you.

“Turn around.” You obey, turning on your hands and knees, swinging your ass in the air. He continues with his teasing, and at this point you’re nearly sobbing, wondering if he’ll ever actually give you what you want. Pathetic chants and whines spilling from your mouth as you push your ass against Hyunjin, unable to control yourself; thinking with your cunt instead of your brain. 

Hyunjin spits down onto you, and you can feel the glob of spit slide down from your asshole to your cunt, tickling its way down your clit. Hyunjin, though, slides the head of his cock from your clit, upwards, collecting his spit and your wetness in the process. He teases the tip at the rim of your tight hole, teasing at it. But when you push your ass towards Hyunjin, he pulls away, tsk-ing in the process. 

“Silly little play thing,” Hyunjin gives a cold, almost threatening laugh. “I think I need to teach you a lesson on patience, hm?” 

The threat has you pleading with him, repeated apologies dancing off your tongue, ultimately not acknowledged. Hyunjin loves to hear the sounds of your begs and pleads, but ultimately, the words you say do not matter to him—it all means nothing. Hyunjin marches at the beat of his own drum, and in situations like this, when he’s got a perfect piece of flesh like you beneath him, everything that he says, goes. And right now, he’s perfectly fine with teasing you over and over and over again. 

Slapping his cock against your cunt once, twice, Hyunjin slightly pushes the head of his cock against the rim of your ass. He continues applying pressure, fixated on stretching out the perfectly puckered hole. You whine at the feeling, slowly inching away from it, but Hyunjin holds your hips still. Pushing and pushing, slowly, until finally he slides the head of his cock into your tight hole. Hyunjin moans out at how your hole tightens around him, welcoming him inside. He does nothing, just stays like that, moaning and ignoring your pleas for him to do something. It’s not until you feel the side of his hand brush up against you cunt that you realize Hyunjin has got a hand around his shaft, getting himself off while the tip of his cock is in your ass and you’ve got nothing to do except for lay there and accept it, with your ass in the air and your face against dirt. 

His moans increase as he fucks his hand around his cock faster; and if it werent for his other hand holding you in place, you’d at least try to fuck back on him through the stretch of the pain. As Hyunjin exhales, letting out a deep groan of a moan, you feel the rush of warm liquid shooting into you. You moan in response as Hyunjin makes a mess of you with his cum, filling you up, trying to keep it all inside until he pulls out and it all, inevitably, leaks out of your hole, pooling around your cunt. 

Hyunjin wastes no time, cock sliding into your cunt with ease due to your wetness and his cum; but the stretch is intense, more than you initially expected. You tighten up a bit, resisting, though you want to relax. You can’t hold your arch perfectly any longer but that’s the least of your worries—the only thing on your mind being cock. Hyunjin slides another inch into you. Maybe it’s because of all the teasing, or the fact that you’ve already cum twice, but he’s not even halfway inside of you and it feels like he’s reached the depths of your soul already. His hand reaches around, fingers coming in contact with your clit in hopes of helping you ease up. 

“Created just for me,” Hyunjin breathes out, voice rough with possession. “Made just for me. Only me.” 

He continues with his ownership of you, voice dipping deeper as his words become mostly obscenities. You don’t hear it. Or perhaps you can’t hear it. Maybe you don’t want to hear the vile things he’s saying. You’re overtaken, caught up by the intense, high pitch ringing that is worming its way through your ear canal, planting and fertilizing clashing waves of static all around your brain. 

His hand wraps around your neck. It feels nothing like the soft, once heavenly hands that had been massaging all over your skin. These hands are rough, calloused and rigid palms that venture into freakishly long, boney fingers; with nails like claws that pierce into the side of your neck right behind your ear. Your eyes remain closed, fearing that if you open them that you’ll see something you shouldn’t, something that your mind would be unable to comprehend visually. A feeling of spiritual discomfort crawls up your back, causing you to arch, shivering at the same moment Hyunjin works his cock deeper into you, stretching you further; mentally and physically—of which he insists on doing, wanting to bend you to his will and break you beyond anything you’ve experienced. 

Hyunjin pulls you back to him, hips unrelenting. Teeth, sharp like razors, piercing down into the flesh of your shoulders; nearly enough for blood to start trickling down your skin, but that does not occur. His teeth, however, do leave indents in your skin; that, if he’s lucky enough, will be permanent. His lips meet your ear next, a brief kiss planted to the lobe before whispering in a rather gruff voice, unlike that of his usual. “Inferior to me. Mine to claim.” 

When he cums there’s an immense amount of it, sticky and warm. Hyunjin makes sure to be fully buried inside of you, cock seemingly swelling in size as he forces you to take all his cum inside. Hyunjin is selfish, not waiting a single moment, and barely pulling out before he begins to thrust back in. Cum coats his cock, almost daring to drip onto the ground in raindrop-like shapes. He refuses to allow that, however, fucking all of his cum back into you. His thighs, which originally felt like the silkiest, softest flesh, now coarse and dry—except for the sticky cum running down them, connecting in slightly thick, white lines against your thighs—and fuzzy; thick. “Mine to possess.”

You slowly come to realize that Hyunjin has taken a different shape completely. No longer possessing the body of a man, he has turned into some kind of beast, something inhuman. He’s grown abnormally in size and you can tell because he’s holding you up as he fucks you, toes barely scraping the dirt. 

And as filthy and as frightening as it is, the line between fear and arousal is a very thin, blurry line. It leads you to come crashing down, partially due to the overstimulation, cunt spasming around Hyunjin’s cock, sucking in all his cum. You’re elated, completely delighted, mind elsewhere as you experience your high with Hyunjin fucking you through it. Hardly registering anything other than the feeling of Hyunjin’s cock stretching you out and the warmth of his cum—a sticky mess that’s leaking out both of your holes and staining your thighs. 

When you come to, you’re laying on Hyunjin’s chest. It’s still daylight out, the sun beaming as bright as ever, nearly blinding when you open your eyes. It takes a few moments to shake away the pure, drowsy euphoria you’re feeling, completely ravished by bliss; almost hypnotized. You prop your head up to look at Hyunjin, and the moment you do, it’s like there are trumpets sounding off all around you. You have a realization—no, a revelation—that things aren’t as they seem as you peer up at the brown-haired man. As queasiness makes a home in the pit of your stomach, all within two mere seconds, the wind picks up; howling in the distance, bustling within the branches of trees. 

“This is a dream, isn’t it?” For what might be the first time, your eyes meet his.

What words can be used to describe what you saw when you looked into the eyes of that thing? Petrifying? Nauseating? Surreal? It makes you want to close your eyes, however, when you do, the images you’ve seen seem as though they’ve been permanently printed against the black of your eyelids. Perhaps you can attempt to run away—and hide, praying to God that you’re not stalked and caught—but your muscles don’t respond to the neurons being sent by your brain. Perhaps you can find a way out of this dream, but your physical body seemingly refuses to acknowledge the call to wake up; only processing the utter fright in the images it created. The only thing you can do is stare into Hyunjin’s eyes, continuing to receive visions of which you hope you’ll be able to forget. 

His irises are a deep pool of black, displaying a particular flavor not only of loneliness but utter wickedness. The longer you stare into Hyunjin’s eyes the longer you are disillusioned, fully snatched away from all delusion of this former fairytale. Vision clouded by a thick, murky fog; fully spotlighting the shocks of visions you see in his eyes. 

A beast, creature unlike anything you’ve ever seen or imagined. The face of a man only oddly elongated with empty eye sockets and horns—covered in blood that only makes a mop of its fine hair—curled up into two spikes atop his head. A smile so wide it’s like it was carved in with a razor blade and charred, blackened and blood stained fangs hanging from its mouth. Its body, with its abnormally long limbs, is completely drenched in blood, dripping in pools all around the entity. Pieces of what you can only assume is a human—or even worse, you—discarded and littered around it without much thought or care. 

Flesh. Human meat. Limbs and bones and the insides—intestines, livers and hearts and muscle—all around you as this vision becomes reality; suddenly finding yourself within one meter of this monstrosity. The pool of blood coming up to your ankles, rising steadily. Pieces and pieces of the now deceased all around you, entirely mangled and minced. The creature holds pieces of meat within its claws, sharp nails piercing into the gray flesh, bits of meat stuck between its teeth as it tears into its victim. 

It is feeding. 

The situation becomes all the more frightening when the creature raises its head towards you. Despite it being eyeless, you know that you’re making eye contact, getting lost within the empty abyss that seems to be staring into the corners of your spirit. It’s wide smile never fading as it lurches, sprinting towards you faster than the blink of an eye. 

The transition from the dream world to the waking world is surreal, almost jarring. Especially since when you awaken, you’re paralyzed, body stiff with static crawling all over your skin. The darkness of your bedroom surrounds you, both familiar and completely unknown. You attempt to move around a little, opening and closing your eyes multiple times, attempting to raise at least a finger; though falling short of progress to escape this feeling, left to stare straight up at your ceiling. 

Then there’s the boom. A loud, static-like noise; deep as if something really heavy had dropped—but you’re unsure if it’s coming from the dark corner on your right or elsewhere within your home. A thing that simultaneously occurred and did not happen. The speed at which fear rises within you is faster than the speed of light. Heart racing as the physical manifestation of dread drops to the bottom of your stomach—fear making its home in the back of your throat, tightening as your swallow, seemingly making it difficult to breathe. It consumes you, a heavy burden, too insufferable to support, unable to put up a fair fight against it. 

Don’t Look. 

Curiosity gets the best of you. You shift your eyes to the right and in the far corner of the bedroom is a space that’s significantly darker than anything else in the room; like a void. Perhaps it’s because the light from your plug-in air freshener doesn’t reach that area of the room. And perhaps you’re tired and still reeling from that strange dream, but you swear you see movement as you glance over. You want to look away, you have to look away, but curiosity sinks its claws into you. Hypnotizing and you're paralyzed with fear of what could happen. Then, the darkness in the corner grows, getting larger as if whatever it is has been expanding, standing up to greet you. 

Then it disperses. Leaving you alone, shaking and sweating in the cold, unwelcoming darkness of your room, finally able to move and process things. 

© PLANETDREAM 2023

[butchpeace]

Pelvic Floor Health for Detrans Women

A disclaimer before we start: I am not a doctor, a PT, or an expert of any kind, I just noticed there was a lack of information about pelvic floor health in the detrans (and trans) communities and I wanted to compile the information that I’ve gained. If there are any issues or you have any wisdom to share, please DM me! I plan to add to this post and edit it over time as I learn more.

95% of females who have been on testosterone report pelvic health issues, which can include urinary leakage or retention, bladder pain, difficulty emptying the bladder, general pelvic pain, pain with sex, vaginal dryness, vaginal atrophy, vaginismus, anal issues, and more. (Source)

Here’s a discussion with a pelvic floor expert on the issues faced by females who have been on testosterone.

If you’ve experienced any of these problems, you’re not alone, and there are things you can do!

Vaginal Atrophy

The vast majority of detransitioning women (and females who are transitioning) have vaginal atrophy, which is a thinning and weakening of the tissues that line the vaginal wall. Atrophy can lead to pain during sex, or with regular movement, bleeding due to small tears in the vaginal lining, narrowing of the vaginal canal, urinary issues, and more.

Because testosterone affects our ovaries, we can think of this issue as something similar to GSM (Genitourinary Syndrome of Menopause). Many of our symptoms mirror what happens to women as they age and their estrogen production decreases.

Treatments for Atrophy

1. Vaginal estrogen comes in the form of creams, suppositories, and insertable rings.

2. Vitamin E suppositories have been found to be as effective as vaginal estrogen in some studies. (Source)

3. Sea Buckthorn oil capsules have been shown to be effective in vaginal health. (Source)

4. Regular sexual activity can help by filling the vaginal wall tissues with blood, which can help to revitalize those tissues.

There are also many options for dryness, including vaginal moisturizers, aloe, coconut oil, and more. Sometimes the simplest natural options can be the most effective! Always talk to your gynecologist and do your own research on products you’re considering buying and make sure the ingredients are safe. Some people may experience yeast infections and other issues when using certain products.

Vaginal atrophy itself is to blame in many cases for the urinary symptoms that many of us report, and treating the atrophy may be all that’s needed in order to improve the urinary symptoms.

In other cases, we also need to look at overall pelvic floor health. I would argue that taking care of your pelvic floor is essential for any woman at any stage of life, since it can help with so many things!

Pelvic Floor Muscle Issues

Pelvic floor health issues can be divided into 2 types - Hypotonicity and Hypertonicity. Both types can lead to bladder issues, among other things.

Hypotonicity is the classic type many women experience after having children or during menopause. It’s also described as having a weak pelvic floor, and kegels are often the best treatment. The YouTube playlist at the end of this post includes videos for beginner and advanced kegel exercise methods and yoga.

Hypertonicity is the opposite type, where the pelvic muscles are chronically tight. For this, the treatment is to use muscle release methods to relax the pelvic floor. Remember - Relaxed muscles are the best at doing their job.

Anxiety can also be a factor in hypertonicity! If you’re often anxious, get used to checking how that feels in your pelvic floor. Many young women experience bladder leakage or discomfort, feeling like you have to go when you don’t, or pain with sexual activity, due to anxiety which causes overly tight muscles.

You wouldn’t think at first that Hypertonicity could lead to urinary symptoms like leakage, but when your muscles are overly tight, they just don’t work the way they should.

Sitting a lot and generally not getting much exercise also causes muscles in the pelvic floor, hips, and hamstrings to tighten and become shorter, so stretching these areas is very helpful.

And when you have a urinary issue, or you’re dealing with the aftermath of childbirth, surgery, or any other medical trauma to the pelvic floor, there can be a tendency to reflexively tighten your muscles all the time, for fear of what might happen if you don’t. Some people with hypertonicity also experience their symptoms getting worse if they do a lot of kegel exercise. In these situations, kegels can become counterintuitive.

That said, using methods to address both types can be the best option for some people. As long as you listen to your body, keep track of how each method makes you feel, and talk with a doctor or pelvic floor PT if you have serious concerns or don’t understand how to do something, you should be able to figure out something that will help!

Vaginismus is also a very common condition that’s connected to hypertonicity and potential mental causes. You’ll know you have Vaginismus if you’ve always had trouble inserting things into your vagina, or if your partner has had trouble with it. Many women describe it as a sensation of the vagina closing up when faced with something trying to get in. You may find that at certain times or with certain objects, you have no problem, and at other times or with other objects, you do. Stretches and massages for hypertonicity can often help with Vaginismus.

Prolapse is a relatively common issue in women who have had kids and older women in menopause. This can also cause urinary symptoms. The incidence of pelvic floor prolapse in females on testosterone is not known, but due to atrophy weakening the walls of the vagina, it’s possible that testosterone will increase your risk. It’s also more common in people who have had a hysterectomy.

Tools

1. Vaginal dilators can be helpful for people who have trouble with Vaginismus or feel like their vagina is small. These are also helpful for people who have difficulty inserting fingers

2. A pelvic wand or vibrator can help you with massage to loosen muscles, if needed

4. Kegel trainers come in various types and can help you perform kegels more effectively if you know that your issue is hypotoniticy

5. Pessaries can help in cases where atrophy has led to pelvic floor prolapse. Make sure you get diagnosed before using one!

6. Your hands! Don’t underestimate the power of using your hands for external or internal massage

The biggest thing to take away from this post is this - Don’t be afraid of your vagina or pelvic floor! Don’t be afraid to try things that may help you improve whatever issues you’re having.

Your vagina is a normal part of your body, and especially when you’re experiencing issues, that’s when it’s time to really learn about it and understand what’s going on. If you’re anything like me, you’ve gone your whole life being too afraid or too uninformed to do certain things or explore your body in certain ways. We need to reduce the fear, stigma, and awkwardness of vaginal and pelvic floor issues, and the first step is to get to know your body. 💪

Exercises

I’ve put together a playlist of YouTube videos that have helped me in this process, which I will continue to add to. I hope they help you too!

And again, please DM me with any information you think is helpful or stories about what worked for you.

And if you’re a medical professional, I would love for you to review this post and suggest edits or additions.

Please share this with all your friends! My intention is for this to be a community resource we can use to spread awareness✌🏼

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

The Hobie fandom has a lot of smut, and with a character so accepting on so many fronts, it means so much to me to see trans!readers being taken into consideration.

As a trans guy myself, I love seeking out ftm!smut. But often times, I often can't read them. Many times I'm left feeling unseen, reduced, or even feminized.

And I wanna talk about that a bit, if it's okay.

My take and feelings on FTM!smut - As a Trans Guy

Ngl as a trans guy myself I do feel a bit alienated by a lot of FTM!reader.

I'm gonna be honest - I feel like most ftm smut is written exactly as it would be a cis woman, just with the pronouns changed. Which is understandable, but not really how it works.

Cis women and trans men don't have sex the exact same, just because they're AFAB.

And I feel most smut writers haven't gone out of their way to research the sexual experiences of trans men and how we navigate the world.

Hobie smut is pretty vulgar, and I won't complaining! As a character, he has a high volume of smut, and probably the most diverse range, with Black!reader, ftm!readers, and male!readers being more common than most fandoms.

Black!Reader focuses on the unique experience of black people when in a relationship together. This unique experience is at the basis of black!reader.

But when we approach Ftm!reader - very often, our unique experience isn't reflected.

It's just assumed that because we are AFAB - there's no need to look deeper at the closer unique sexual experience trans men have - or to read up about it.

Most ftm!reader fic does not attempt to use affirming sexual language for trans men at all.

T-dicks - ie, natural clitoris enlargement you get after taking T - is a thing a lot of transitioning Trans men have.

But they're never called T-dicks in fanfiction. Only clits. It's very rare that a ftm!reader is described as having a dick - because so often the only dicks cis people recognize are natal dicks, and surgery-constructed ones.

Many cis writers may never even considered referring to a trans man's clitoris as a dick - pre or post T. They may see it as confusing to the reader, when it's not.

T-Dicks are dicks. Bottom growth didn't give you a full 3-4 inches, but you absolutely have growth and there are trans men that can penetrate with T-dicks - without surgery - if with the right partner.

The words pussy and cunt are used liberally in nearly all ftm!smut, and while many trans men are okay with these terms, I think a lot of cis writers ignore or do not know that often, terms like those can cause heavy dysphoria in a lot of ftm readers.

I don't think cis writers ever question if they might be making readers dysphoric - or showing them in a non-affirming way.

I feel like some writers believe that changing pronouns and calling the reader 'handsome' is really all it takes. Just write usual fem smut, change the pronouns - and done!

In reality, a large part of the ftm community feels uncomfortable with the word 'pussy' - and would much rather stuff like 'front hole'.

A poll on 'What do you call your downstairs?'

And I'm not saying that you can't call a trans man's genitals a pussy. And I'm not saying that a trans man calling his genitals a pussy is wrong.

I just feel like cis writers do not consider the dysphoria of their trans readers, when writing trans smut.

I feel like most cis writers don't actually seek out accounts of trans men and their sexuality.

I don't think they ever consider that these terms, talking about wetness and penetration (which many men on T can have problems with because of vaginal atrophy and dryness), breast, clits, cunts, pussy -

I don't think cis writers ever question 'Is this accessible for ftm readers that might have dysphoria? How can I make this accessible or easier for trans men who have bottom dysphoria?'

Or

'How can I make this more affirming of them as men?'

It's the assumption that, because we're all AFAB, because we have vaginas like cis women - then naturally we must all fuck the same regardless of gender, the only thing changing being the pronouns.

That's not true.

And also - Trans Men are never really written like gay men.

Trans men having sex with men is gay sex.

And even though most writers write trans men with male OCs - they hardly ever write their sex as if they are gay men.

99.9% of the time, it isn't written that way. Its always written as if it's 'straight sex'.

The experience of how gay men have sex is never really taken account into these fics, which makes me feel like a lot of writers don't see it as gay sex at all.

At most, the ftm reader may be described as a bottom - but never as an otter or twink or bear or cub or leather or anything.

They see it as AFAB sex.

Cause If I'm getting strictly candid - I feel like if a writer wrote mtf!smut and kept focusing on the girls 'hard throbbing cock and balls' - we'd all be like 'oh wow that's very intense centering on genitals that may alienate some trans women-'

But in ftm!smut focusing on 'wet tight juicy pussy and thriving clit' is standard. It's never really questioned.

And this is not to say 'oh trans women have it better they get better smut-' No. They really don't. I'm just bringing this up to highlight the fact that we should be making sure that trans!smut is accessible and affirming to the trans people they're about.

Seeing a fic in which a gay trans man prefers to use his asshole, like most gay men fuck, is VERY VERY rare.

I feel like most cis writers never consider the fact that gay trans men may want to perform sex in an affirming, clearly coded, masculine gay way.

It's always assumed we use our front hole, are okay with it being called a pussy, have no problems getting wet, or that we don't have dicks (T-dick is a dick).

And because of that - the lack of affirming language and the lack of affirming transmasc experiences makes it very hard for me as a FTM person to read smut about ftm!readers.

I feel like most of them don't actually take our comfort - or our experiences in mind.

I feel like most don't attempt to actually read accounts of trans guys having gay sex, and what that's often like.

If you're a writer who feels guilty of any of this - you're not a bad person or a bad writer. And I genuinely thank you for including us in your work - from the bottom of my heart.

But I want to highlight this -

Trans men having sex is not a 1:1 of cis women having sex. The same way trans women having sex is not a 1:1 of cis men having sex.

Or experiences are unique - and our dysphoria does affect our sex lives, and how we navigate them.

Please, do not let this put you off writing trans men. But please keep in mind that our experience is unique.

So often I read ftm!reader and feel reduced down to my pussy. Without breasts in the equation, so much ftm!smut focuses solely on the pussy.

If you write ftm!reader please please do not let this put you off, but here's some tips I can give as a trans guy

Please do slight research of ftm anatomy, read an article about gay trans men, or go on r/ftm (subreddit) and read some posts about trans men, read some nsfw posts where trans men tell hookup tales.

Advocate has an great article called '16 things I learned from having sex with Trans Men' - which details and dispels 16 myths about trans men in bed. It's written from the POV of gay men who have been with trans men in affirming ways.

This post is in no way meant to be an attack or subliminal at any one writer. If it was one writer, I wouldn't care.

But this is something I've experienced and seen across fandoms and across writers in this fandom too. I feel the urge to write this because searching for affirming ftm!fics - I often come away feeling even more dysphoric.

Not because of the word pussy or cunt or anything -

But because of the erasure of my experience, the idea that my gender doesn't influence my experience of sex - only my AFAB genitals do.

If you write ftm!smut, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, truly.

But I feel like I had to say this.

If you read this far, thank you! This is one of my more personal venting posts but I'm also trying to raise a point and start a discussion. And you reading through this and giving me your time and understanding is already helpful enough, so thanks!

Here's Hobie.

Bye.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

is there a way to intentionally cause vaginal dryness. years of testosterone has not induced this. i have asked medical professionals and was just given a blank look. i have to wear bike shorts under sweatpants just to not leave wet spots on any chair i sit on for more than a couple minutes.

MINUTES???

[prokopetz]

I'm currently being inundated with targeted ads on every platform where ads are visible to me informing me that my yoga pants are the cause of my vaginal dryness, which raises several questions.

[homunculus-argument]

Okay, I've been talking about HRT a lot recently, but I wanted to clarify something: Testosterone treatment doesn't automatically mean becoming more aggressive. Being more irritable while your hormone levels rebalance themselves is normal, but if you find yourself getting actually angry more than reasonable, more often than reasonable, you might need help of a therapist. Testosterone does, however, cause

increased appetite (you need the fuel to build more muscle)

more body hair (yeah including places you may not prefer it)

fat redistribution (that belly hair has to go somewhere, after all)

vaginal dryness/atrophy (fortunately the locally applied estrogen this can be treated with doesn't impact HRT treatments)

male pattern baldness (if it happens to men in your family, it'll happen to you - fortunately hair loss treatments that work on cis men will work on you as well)

unironically enjoying the music of Sabaton (this, apparently, is irreversible, untreatable, and incurable)

[spacelazarwolf]

something particularly concerning about the missouri emergency order and probably a lot of other anti trans legislation is the way it requires tracking of any sort of side effects from hrt. this is going to keep people from reporting easily fixable problems to their doctor, like vaginal dryness that’s treatable with topical estrogen cream, but also bigger issues that our doctors need to know about, because we’re afraid of losing access to lifesaving care. this is what happens when politicians who have absolutely no medical training decide to regulate a field they have no experience with. this is going to cause health problems and potentially even loss of life, and it’s so easily preventable by politicians just not fucking pretending to be doctors.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

another anti-psych post from your neighborhood patient-therapist

In my last post I talked about the kinds of basic needs people and communities have, and asked what it might look like in your community to meet those needs as a baseline. This time we're going to talk more about what happens when communities and individuals are chronically un-/under-served.

Okay so let's break it down this way. We're gonna try looking at just one medical symptom of chronic stress: autonomic dysregulation. It's not going to feel like we are, but I promise that's all we're doing. This is a *serious* symptom and it often comes clustered with others due to the way it functions within the body, which is why I think it is a useful case study here. Autonomic dysfunction, especially chronic dysfunction, can temporarily (though for long spans of time if the dysfunction remains chronic rather than acute) alter the functioning of other systems within the body such as the endocrine system, the reproductive system, cognitive functioning through the hippocampus and amygdala, and muscle functioning, nerve functioning, and others. It is no joke to suggest that long term autonomic dysfunction can often lead to major long term health consequences that are life altering for the person experiencing them. While some can be treated, managed, or even cured, not all can be and this is something I want us all to keep in mind as we consider the need for building communities that do not cause this kind of harm to their people.

Let's look at some potential medical outcomes of autonomic dysfunction, per the Mayo Clinic:

Dizziness and fainting when standing, caused by a sudden drop in blood pressure.

Urinary problems, such as difficulty starting urination, loss of bladder control, difficulty sensing a full bladder and inability to completely empty the bladder. Not being able to completely empty the bladder can lead to urinary tract infections.

Sexual difficulties, including problems achieving or maintaining an erection (erectile dysfunction) or ejaculation problems. In women, problems include vaginal dryness, low libido and difficulty reaching orgasm.

Difficulty digesting food, such as feeling full after a few bites of food, loss of appetite, diarrhea, constipation, abdominal bloating, nausea, vomiting, difficulty swallowing and heartburn. These problems are all due to changes in digestive function.

Inability to recognize low blood sugar (hypoglycemia), because the warning signals, such as getting shaky, aren't there.

Sweating problems, such as sweating too much or too little. These problems affect the ability to regulate body temperature.

Sluggish pupil reaction, making it difficult to adjust from light to dark and seeing well when driving at night.

Exercise intolerance, which can occur if your heart rate stays the same instead of adjusting to your activity level.

Some common comorbid conditions may include Diabetes, Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, Parkinson's, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, or an autoimmune disorder. In each of these cases I want you to remember the lens of an individual body being denied, in some way, its base needs (an edocrine hormone, a nutritional component, the internal security of homeostasis, etc), to such an extent that it begins to experience an internal catastrophic failure, as this lens may often be supportive of accommodating your disabled comrades, or yourself, in the future.

I also want us to consider some common social statistics relevant to these conditions. Nearly 4% of the world experiences and autoimmune disorder. Most are women, and Indigenous, Black, and Latina women are at risk than most for several of these. In the United States, there are suspected to be 37.3 million people with diabetes. Diabetes is also considered an autoimmune disorder by researchers, and is one that the Indigenous, Filipino, Indian, Latine, and Black communities are all at higher risk for than white people are, however, risk is also heavily influenced by poverty, and by a family's location with respect to food deserts which grow more and more common. In a truly wild statistic, 80% of lesbians versus 32% of heterosexual women had polycystic ovaries in one study, and 33% of lesbians versus 14% of heterosexual women had progressed to PCOS. Some studies find that transmasculine folks are more likely to PCOS as well.

When we consider the marginalization these groups experience, and the way that marginalization plays out in the social forum, the political forum, in the financial forum, and in the emotional forum, are we really surprised to learn that it plays out in the embodied forum too?

This is what people mean when they talk about social murder. These are health conditions that don't just change lives, they end them. A system that churns out people so chronically sick that their bodies are desperately killing themselves trying to stay alive is a society that has become desperately sick. Diabetes is something we have attributed to individuals, to families, and even every once in a while to corporations, but at what point have we sat down and looked at a society that produces this murderous autoimmune disorder at such high rates and asked the real question: how are we making so many people sick?

The answers are many, and that can feel overwhelming, but I encourage you to start in one place and learn your way around it as well as you can before you even consider moving on. Maybe start with food deserts. They're probably familiar to you, you've heard about them in passing before I imagine, even if you're not really too into this stuff. But ask yourself WHY food deserts are able to exist? What are the mechanics of one being born? How does one stay free from the stain of a grocery store or food market? Are there any places like that near you? If so, what points of leverage might there be in that location for you to break the homeostasis of the food desert? How can you add your weight to efforts already occurring, or stir up sentiment around the idea of a new homeostasis where a grocery store exists? Can you put up flyers or attend town hall meetings? Can you knock doors or phone bank? Can you bring some sugar by your neighbors and comment how frustrating it is you all have to go so far to get your groceries and wonder what's up with that and maybe start scheming together? What kind of store should it be? Bring in a local market? A chain? Build a co-op or merchant's stalls for a four season farmer's market?

Get really into one idea, and get others in on it with you. I bet you aren't the only one who'd like a better status quo.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I read the article about hymens, but is it possible to have intercourse for the first time with no bleeding at all? because last year our science teacher (when we were learning about reproductive systems) said that there would always be some bleeding the first time, no matter what you did

(I haven' t ever had sex, so I have nothing to draw from)

absolutely, tons of people do. practice with vaginal penetration via masturbation and/or the use of insertive menstrual products can help a lot, but even without that you can have a perfectly painless experience if you're relaxed, patient, and using plenty of lube.

it's also really important to note that vaginal bleeding as a result of sex is very common even among people with plenty of sexual experience. anything from a little dryness to a bad angle to friction that's too fast can cause small tears in the vagina and result in a bit of bleeding. this is completely normal and almost never an actual problem, because the vagina–being a cavity that's kind of designed to be penetrate–is VERY good at patching up tiny tears without much fuss.

it's never guaranteed though, whether it's your first experience with penetrative sex or not.

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

so i saw some people comment on my larissa menopause post (lol) saying they didn't know menopausal transition was a thing and like. i feel compelled to do this now adsjkhfgfsdhk. this ain't sex ed this is just. ed. lol. info under the cut! keep in mind i am NOT a medical professional. this is just like. the most general of knowledge lol.

so. menopause is a point in time 12 months after a your last period. the years leading up to that point, when one may have changes in their monthly cycles, hot flashes, or other symptoms, are called the menopausal transition or perimenopause. the menopausal transition most often begins between ages 45 and 55, but can rarely begin earlier/later. after that 12 month period, you enter post-menopause.

perimenopause typically last for about 7 years, but can last up to 14.

symptoms of perimenopause are, for some, mild and short-lasting, and for others, they can be disruptive and long-lasting (my mother dealt with them for about 10 years!)

usual symptoms are the following:

changes to your period (change in frequency, level of bleeding -- keep in mind you could still get pregnant during perimenopause, and that remains the case until actual menopause takes place, so if you want to avoid that you should employ your preferred method of contraception), mood changes/changes in libido, insomnia/sleep problems, hot flashes and chills, night sweats (can influence sleep quality), weight gain, headaches, heart palpitations, stiff or achey joints, memory problems, dryer skin, thinner hair, vaginal dryness/sensitivity, problems with pelvic floor muscles which can cause urinary incontinence in some cases

as far as i gathered, you may experience any of these symptoms during perimenopause, menopause, or post-menopause. a couple of years after menopause symptoms should go away,

you can't know how severe your symptoms will be, and the best guess you can make is to look at your family history to make an educated guess, however it doesn't have to mean much. some people will experience virtually no symptoms, and some will experience symptoms in such severity that they are disruptive to their daily life.

post-menopause signals the end of your reproductive years, and you’ll be in this stage for the rest of your life. ovaries are still making low levels of the hormones estrogen and progesterone, but you're no longer ovulating, so you can’t become pregnant

you’ll continue to experience menopause symptoms for about 2-7 years after your final menstrual cycle (can be longer for some people), but after that time, symptoms often get milder or completely go away.

women in post-menopause are at a higher risk for certain health conditions like heart disease and postmenopausal osteoporosis

[fang-toothed]

I’m going to talk about “passing” (as the opposite sex), because it feels like there are not many neutral and comprehensive explanations of the truth of it.

During my 3 years of identifying as trans, I was told that I could pass completely as male with hormones and top surgery (mastectomy). I looked through a subreddit where trans-identified people posted pics of themselves to see if they “passed” and I gave the most affirmative answers I could. The trans women, I noticed, even back then, always got much more positive comments than trans men, and also seemed much more confident that they themselves “passed,” even though the visible evidence seemed to show the opposite.

2 out of 3 of the trans women I know I “clocked” (could tell they were male) at first glance. Both had long or longish hair, wore (what is considered to be) women’s clothing, and both seemed to be on HRT (had breast development). The 3rd took me about 15 minutes to figure out. I clocked one TIF straight away, though this person wasn’t on artificial hormones and had an obviously female voice. The other had a beard, was obviously on testosterone, and had the “camp” voice gay men (and straight TIFs) tend to have. It took me five class periods to clock the latter, mainly because I never saw this person standing up through the crowded room. The moment I saw this classmate walking outside of the classroom it was very obvious this person was female. Their hips would be considered wide even for a woman, and the other TIF had nearly the exact same height (5’4”ish) and hip width. It didn’t matter how male either seemed; their hips will give them away every time.

I am not saying this out of spite. I genuinely want to help trans people realise what it took me years to realise: that they are being lied to. Sure, you’ll get shown a picture of Buck Angel or Blaire White as “proof” trans women are women and trans men are men fuck yeah, but the former is an outlier and the latter does not pass at all without makeup and strategic lighting, and even they still do not pass naked. You are being sold a lie, and people are making a lot of profit from it.

Trans women, you need to realise that having no one straight-up say “hey, you’re not a woman!” to you does not mean you pass. In real life, you probably never will. Women are instinctively scared of you and will very rarely confront you, especially since you keep making death and rape threats towards “TERFs”. HRT will make you look less masculine, but you will never experience a female level of hormones, simply because you are not female. Ovaries make most estrogen for females, which you can see below, and your hormones will never cycle the way female hormones do because you lack the uterus that controls them. You will never experience menopause. Your body never stops being male. If you are told contrary, you are being lied to.

Trans men, you need to realise that while you do have a chance of passing with hormones, surgery, and clothing on, your health will ALWAYS suffer if you do so. Testosterone HRT causes vaginal dryness, atrophy, and pelvic/clitoral pain directly from the overabundance of testosterone. You will likely gain weight, potentially even developing type 2 diabetes, high blood pressure, and heart problems from a rise in cholesterol. You will go into early menopause after 12 months of no periods, and have the negative health effects that come with it. Healthy levels of estrogen and testosterone (yes, it is present in all female bodies) do a lot for the body; just look at the source above. There is no possible way for you to pass as male without your body suffering as a result.

Hate me and call me a TERF all you like, but I am telling you the truth. You HAVE to stop relying on word of mouth for information about transitioning medically. I would honestly prefer you to keep identifying as trans and keep doing TRA activism and NOT take HRT/get unnecessary surgery than readily admit you are not the gender you identify as and still take/get them. I am a sympathetic person and I hate unnecessary pain, even from my political “rivals” (I do not consider you rivals). I do not and will never hate trans people. Please just ask yourselves why looking at the other side’s materials is fine for Conservative, Nazi, whatever movement, because their arguments are ridiculous and based on selfish interests that are easy to see, EXCEPT gender-critical material, which is supposedly just as foolish. It is never a sin to educate yourself, despite what certain movements and religions will tell you.

[hyumjim]

It’s a good thing trans people are good at providing information and resources for each other because doctors are literally fucking stupid. I went in to get a T prescription today and the doctor was telling me about the side effects and she’s like “and there’s something called clitoral atrophy, where you will have vaginal dryness” and I was politely like oh yeah I know about that… (it’s vaginal atrophy not clitoral, this is a REALLY important difference) But, um, there can also be some growth too? And she’s like “hmm.. I think… maybe you’re right” and I had to sit there in stunned disbelief as she sat there and googled whether testosterone causes clitoral enlargement… I said “are you googling it right now?” And she said, “I was just checking.”