#why do we age testosterone

[aairejuvenationclinic]

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[johnbrand]

The Power of a Name

With @next-pharaoh

The power of a name is something more influential than most people realize. It created an individual, maintained their identity that had been crafted from the womb up until that very point. It interacted with the world around them, choosing their friends, their enemies, their brothers and their lovers. Names decide brains or brawns, cools or fools, the ins and the outs of every living thing. If it was not for names, then who would we even be?

So imagine the power of a name when it is used for the good of a movement, one that has been silently expanding for hundreds of years. While other cultures were fighting wars and attempting to outscore one another, this particular movement stealthily expanded its ranks. Lineage and ancestry can be traced back through countless generations of the male line thanks to this work. Of course, we are speaking of Arabization.

There are obvious reasons as to why this movement is so strong and only has the potential to further dominate. First and most importantly, the Arab-Islamic culture exemplifies masculine ideals, creating stronger men after every new breed. Higher testosterone levels, unbreakable fraternal bonds, governing genetic codes. Their desert-bound history created more aggressive, competitive, and territorial behavior; their strict religious conviction maintain higher levels of confidence and, by right, superiority.

But if this movement is silent, then how are we able to visualize its effects? Consider the following facts: While numbers in almost all historically-dominant religions are dropping, the current Muslim population is predicted to grow more than twice in size by 2060. Islam, and the core values of Arabization along with it, will surpass Christianity as the largest religion in the world in just 25 years.

Reflecting on a local level will help illustrate these details. The branch of mathematics most widely practiced, taught, and respected is algebra, a rhetoric developed into what we use today by Muslim scholars. Arabic speakers have increased by 276% since 1910, with English speakers at 221%, Hindi speakers by 118%, and Mandarin Chinese speakers only by 96% over the same period. The Arabic name Muhammad has risen to become the top-reported baby name in the entire world when all its spellings are counted together, with Amir, Malik, Nasir, and Xavier following close behind.

With all this in mind, how has the Arabization movement utilized the power of a name? How about we make this more personal. Consider the average man, 25 years old, 5’9, and weighs roughly 197 pounds. He is flabby and balding, already considered past his prime at such a young age. Works a meaningless job, lives a meaningless life. His pale skin is a reflection of the blank resume representing his past, present, and future. All this, until a guiding Arab brother calls him by the wrong name.

“Omar!” Omar? But that was not his name. “Omar!” He hears it again, this time from a local. Eventually it seems to resonate with the people around him. At first, this average man was puzzled, but the constant repetition of the name gradually begins to rub softer, washing over his body and smoothing out his ridges. Every "Omar" scrubbed off a piece of his past, better aligning him with a brighter, browner future. 

It could start somewhere as vulnerable as porn, the average man filtering through and discarding any videos that do not feature the Arab male. Perhaps his playlists begin to reformat with Arab music, its rhythms and verses constantly playing to further seep into his brain. This restructuring can appear in the home too with a space decorated by Arab imagery, and like a vine it delicately extends further inwards and invades the average man’s very place of rest.

Soon, his interactions with the world around him begin to change. A new Arabic word slips into his everyday language, his connections and role models shift to solely Islamic men, his clothing habits adapt to his beckoning lifestyle. Generic becomes expensive, branded athleisure wear, business becomes religious attire. Each time that new name is uttered, the “Omar” inside inches a little further out.

Eventually, that “Omar” has extended far enough that the results become visibly present. The average man grows taller, broader, his fat stretched against a burgeoning muscular glory. Arms bloat thicker, legs bulge wider. His skin bronzes into a shade of brown that can only be defined as perfection, his hair blackens and thickens across his entire body. The jaw stretches, the nose inflates, the brows and lips protrude. And so too does the average man’s package, its sole purpose to breed future Arabs with its potent seed.

And once "Omar" passes the point of resonation and reaches familiarity, the average man will vanish. The power of a name, his name, Omar, means “long-living, flourishing” in Arabic, his language. And he represents it. An alpha male, an Arab male, a purebred Muslim who understands his mission. So now, Omar takes out his phone and texts a complete stranger, another average man, and simply addresses him as "Ahmed". And the cycle begins once more, the power of a name exploited for the greater good of Arabization.

[zinniajones]

Text of thread at https://kolektiva.social/@zinnia/110418489814171631:

Yes - this is what is happening in Florida due to SB 254, which was signed into law on Tuesday 5/17/2023, taking immediate effect. This immediately cut off 80%+ of adult trans people in Florida from having their HRT refilled, because SB 254 uniquely prohibits only nurse practitioners from prescribing only gender-affirming medications.

This has already been in effect for 7 days now.

Trans adults in Florida have already been cut off from their HRT refills for a week now, including those of us who have been stable on these medications for years or decades.

This is VERY different from the general situation of trans youth care bans in 19 states, many still working their way through the courts.

This has *already* happened, to *all* of us: all trans adults in the third most populous state in the US.

The number of trans adults on HRT massively exceeds the sliver of the population that are under 18 and are prescribed puberty blockers or hormone therapy.

These laws, advanced under the pretext of 'protecting children', are now directly impacting a far larger group of people who are not children and are not subject to those pretextual concerns.

Other arguments about withholding public Medicaid funding for transition treatment also do not apply here: SB 254 does not even allow receiving this care through private insurance or paying cash out of pocket. The care isn't simply not covered - the care itself cannot be provided regardless.

What is happening in Florida requires special attention above the situation of trans youth care bans nationally. This is having a vastly larger impact quantifiably.

It will have worse impacts qualitatively as well: adults are responsible for taking care of and protecting trans kids and making sure they do not hurt themselves.

Whereas as a trans adult, we have no one standing guard at the brink but our own self and the void to which we are accountable.

These are the facts as they stand right now. These are the facts as they have stood for a WEEK and NO ONE nationally is putting any attention on this because there are 19 trans youth care bans all across the country going on, along with everything else targeting trans people and the LGBT community broadly.

This is a specific harm that is happening now and has been happening for 168 hours.

It is not a hypothetical issue to raise awareness of, as if it were at the stage of some proposal that needs to be fought back. This has already happened and is happening right now. Active harm is happening until this law is rolled back.

For all of Florida's history since the inception of the applicable regulatory and licensing bodies, nurse practitioners have been allowed to prescribe hormone therapy, testosterone blockers and other relevant gender-affirming medications.

That has been the case since I moved here in 2011. There was no reason why this wouldn't be the case. It's also the case in every other state.

This new law is a carveout of prescriptions when used for one purpose, gender-affirming care, from nurse practitioners specifically, in a way that has never been done before. It affects all ages.

It has immediately obstructed access to HRT prescription refills for more than 80% of TRANS ADULTS in Florida.

It has also prohibited first appointments for HRT via telehealth with in-state or out-of-state MDs or DOs - first appointments must be in person. This will require expensive and time-consuming travel that is beyond most trans people's means: driving to Georgia from Florida can take 8 hours.

This was an intentional targeting of almost all trans adults in Florida, and the means by which we have received our generic, FDA-approved medications for years. And it included closing every possible door that would let us find another way to keep taking the medications we have taken for...

Well, for me it was 3,891 days when the clock stopped

[bigification]

American Tourist

I sit near the start of the hike, waiting for my tour guide. It takes a while, but finally an older man comes out of a small hut and greets me.

"Hello, are you Markus?" The man asks.

"Yes, I'm here for the tour." I reply, getting up to shake his hand.

"Well let's get started." He says as he leads to the head of the trail.

The tour starts fairly normal. The man just points out small things along the trail like plants and wildlife. But he started to sprinkle in some small talk as well.

"It is not often we have Americans come on this tour." The man says.

The comment confuses me, as I'm from London and have a very obviously non American accent.

"Oh I'm from London, not America." I correct him.

"I must be confused, the big men like you tend to be from America." He replies.

I take it as a compliment, that he's calling me strong, but it still strikes me as odd.

"It must be cold back in America, for you to be wearing shorts and a button up in this weather." The man continues.

Again with the 'America' stuff, I don't know why he keeps insisting on this. Also I'm wearing a t shirt and jeans, I don't know why he said that. But I'm shocked when I look down and see that in wearing khaki shorts and a blue button up. I could have sworn I was wearing jeans, but I guess I was wrong.

"Ya, it is..." I just lead the man along, hoping he'll let it go.

"I hope you brought some sunscreen. Americans with light complexion like you tend to burn easily." He continues.

I don't know what he's on about this time, I literally have darker skin than him. And it's definitely not sunny enough today to burn me. I look down at my arms to see if I'm burnt, maybe that's why he made the comment. Though when I look down, I see white skin. What!? My arms, my legs, they're white. I pull out my phone and look at myself in the camera, my face is white and my hair has become straight. I should be more shocked, but the more I think about the more comfortable I am. This is how I've always looked, right?

"I'm shocked you're keeping up this well." The tour guide continues.

"What do you mean?" I ask, nearly out of breath. He just complimented how big I was, and now he's questioning my athleticism.

"Well Americans like you tend to think they can do a trail like this, but then have to stop half way through." He says as he slaps my stomach.

What does he mean by Americans like me? And why did he slap my stomach? I look down and see my previously flat stomach grow rounder and rounder. My button up stretches further and further as my stomach grows into a soft beer belly. My solid pecs also soften into a pair of moobs. I even feel my shorts tighten around my ass. I try to rearrange my dick to make my bulge less noticeable, but these shorts are way too small.

"Don't you worry my friend, I did football in college. Don't let this tank fool ya, I'm sure I can keep up just fine." I reply in a thick southern accent, still out of breath. I start to unbutton my shirt, hoping to beat the heat.

"I still don't know how you Americans can grow so much hair, it's like a forest in there." The man questions, pointing at my chest.

I look down at the thick pelt of hair covering my chest as I scratch my thick beard.

"Us American men, we've got plenty of testosterone. Makes us the men we are." I reply in a surprisingly deep voice.

"Look, we've made it to the top. You should be glad, not many people your age make it all the way up." The man congratulates me.

I don't know what he means by that comment, but I'm not that old. Besides I barely broke a sweat, I'm an athlete after all.

[missmastectomy]

I was hesitant to write this post, but I want to talk about why so many women and teenage girls are getting double mastectomies.

The justification a lot of trans people use for elective double mastectomies is that "top surgery" helps people feel comfortable in their bodies. Traditionally, this surgery was restricted to transmen. In the recent decade, however, nonbinary identified and even non-trans identified women have been getting mastectomies. I remember clear as day when my coworker (who identified as a "cis" woman) told me that at 18 she was planning on saving for top surgery. I myself got my breasts removed when I identified as nonbinary, having been on testosterone for 2 years.

It's important to remember that no person is born wanting surgery. Society creates conditions that are hostile to women, GNC, and gay people, and this hostility encourages a dissociated state. The body is removed from the mind - instead of the body being an intrinsic part of your personhood, a mechanism through which we experience the world, it instead becomes ornamental. This is perfectly represented by all forms of non-reconstructive cosmetic surgery, which risk people's health for entirely aesthetic reasons.

So, why do teen girls want to remove their breasts? For those of who experienced unwanted sexual advances from a young age, the answer is intuitive. Breasts are inherently sexualized. They are not seen as a vital organ that contributes to bodily function and health, but as a decoration, the only purpose of which is to attract men and feed babies. In this way, a woman's breasts do not even belong to her. When men openly gawk at a woman without a bra, when relatives grope at her as a pubescent girl, when we are exposed to an endless stream of hyper-sexualized images of women with their cleavage out, a message is sent loud and clear: existing in a female body is unsafe.

I want to make it very clear that an elective mastectomy and the practices of breast ironing are very different, but there are commonalities in the attitudes behind both. Breast ironing is done to pubescent girls in order to "prevent" her being sexually assaulted or harassed by men, sometimes including male relatives. When I hear stories of girls in the West starving themselves and binding to hide their chests, I can't help but see similarities. When I was binding and restricting calories as a 15 year old, I would have said I was doing it so that I could pass as a man. But I would have been lying to you. I was lying to myself. I didn't hate my breasts because I was "born in the wrong body." I hated my breasts because they were used to justify my sexualization. From my perspective they put me in danger.

We often hear that women's rights in the West have been secured, but you need only look at the war on women's bodies to see that that is a fantasy. When young girls constantly receive the messaging that your curves and boobs WILL attract men and that you will be objectified for it, many will try to opt out.

Take Liv Hewson, for example.

She says herself that her anorexia was a manifestation of "gender dysphoria," but the question remains - where did this dysphoria come from? Why would anorexia develop as an outlet for it? What makes more sense: a young woman was born hating her body and her breasts because she has a gendered, non-female soul, or that same woman hates her body because she has been conditioned as such by a patriarchal society, the same society that encourages extreme self harm and body modification through a multi-billion dollar cosmetic industry?

Gender dysphoria in young women needs to be demystified. It's not special, it's not unique. It is NOT evidence that she needs invasive surgery or steroids to feel comfortable in her body. It is evidence that she is in pain. In order to address the rising rate of transition in young women, we must first acknowledge the conditions that nurture this form of self-hatred.

Transition IS a feminist issue. It is just as relevant in Western feminism as tackling the beauty industry, female sexualization, and violence perpetrated against women through porn. All of these issues are deeply interconnected. When we approach dysphoric women with compassion and encourage them to perceive their bodies as a part of themselves that deserves to remain intact and whole, rather than as their enemy, we take a necessary step towards female liberation.

[joshslater]

Resizing

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"Care to make it more interesting?" the guy said. We were both about the same age, size, and build. Me, a ginger electronics engineer student dedicated to exercise for years, and recently getting serious with bodybuilding, and he, a Latino who obviously didn't skip gym or his meal plan too often. I guess that was why he'd asked me to spot for him at the barbell. He returned the favor and I felt the need to use the same weight as him and do his reps plus one. That led into testosterone fueled adventure hunt through the gym where we one-upped each other on various equipment and exercises. No one else was in there at this hour. Very mature behavior conducive to optimal results, not. We'd likely regret this the rest of the week.

"Interesting how?" We were standing under the pull-up bars.

"Most pull-ups win muscle and size."

"Isn't that always the prize?" I asked.

"I suppose it is. Chin must come above the bar and then the head fully below it for it to count. Are you in?" He held out his hand. I shook it.

"I'm game," and took a small jump up to the bar and started without any hesitation. I could feel fatigue from what we had done previously, but I tuned it out best as I could. He was counting. I came past eight pretty smoothly, but then I started to struggle. I would have hoped to at least would be past twelve by that point. By thirteen I had to really push it to get number fourteen above the bar, but then I had to give up. I felt a bit disappointed, as I normally can go past fifteen, but he should be just as tired as I.

"Strong going," he congratulated and slapped my shoulder. Then he leaped to the bar, also trying to show off, and began. While it didn't look easy for him, I couldn't see him struggling too bad either, rhythmically going up and down, perhaps slowly getting closer to the agreed limit above the bar. "Ten. Eleven. Twelve." His pace didn't falter. "Thirteen. Fourteen." He made a little smirk. "Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen." That last one wasn't perhaps a legal pull-up, but I had already lost. Perhaps he felt it too, so he dropped down to the floor.

"Fuck, I'm tired," he said, no need to pretend anymore. "Well, at least I won. I shall claim my prize," and he grabbed my hand again. Suddenly I was in agony. It felt like the dull day-after-soreness after a particularly grueling gym session, but there was more to it. It felt like I couldn't move anymore, at least not much. I wasn't frozen in place, but my body refused to detach from him, refused from stepping away. I was hot. I could feel droplets of sweat running down my body, and my eyes were watering up, making the entire room hard to see. But I could see that everything was somehow shifting.

Once he let go I felt unsteady, my body still in flames and sore as hell. His face however wasn't in front of me anymore. Instead I stared right into his chest. I looked down at my body. Years worth of work was gone. It was still an athletic body, but all definition in arms and legs were gone. Pecs and shoulders like any track and field student. "What the hell did you do!" I shouted.

"Muscle and size," he said calmly and flexed his now much larger arm. He looked down at me. "Don't worry. Girls like short boys with abs. Boys too I guess."

"Fuck you! Turn me back!"

"Or what? You're going to tell someone a guy you don't know stole your height at the gym?"

He had a point there. If I hadn't just seen it happen it would be completely unbelievable to me too.

"Just be the bigger man," he said and walked towards the showers.

[choccy-milky]

oh boy anon, you’ve activated my trap card. GET READY FOR A SEBASTIAN CHARACTER ANALYSIS ESSAY BELOW LMAO

ok so first off I know im obvs biased, but I don’t actually think my seb is that ooc, AND PUT DOWN YOUR PITCHFORKS IMMA EXPLAIN WHY. but im also gonna explain why I don’t think the other more friendly and lighthearted renditions of seb are ooc either. bc theres so many aspects of seb we get in the game that can be interpreted in so many diff ways, and so this is how i see it/landed on MY rendition of seb:

PROTECTIVENESS/POSSESSIVENESS: this is one of the main aspects of him, imo. his entire questline is about wanting to cure anne, and how he’s not giving up, and how he believes that HE is the only one that can do it, because “she’s MY sister!” seb is super tunnel visioned and has a one-track mind when it comes to this, and I headcanon that he’s this way because of their parents deaths. he’s the brother, the boy, he’s gotta be strong for his sister, and ofc when their parents died, he tries to comfort her and be there for her/be the rock, and it happens again when she’s sick. shes his sister, his responsibility, and he’ll die before he gives up on her and her safety.

SO, I just transfer all those aspects over to a romantic relationship instead. you just replace “shes my sister” with simply, “she’s mine/my gf/my wife/etc.” and in the same way I think seb tries to be strong and reliable and protect anne because he’s the brother, I think seb would be the same way in a relationship, because he’s a boy and she’s a girl and its 1890 and he’s chivalrous and he just sees it as his responsibility. I think the death of his parents and his dynamic with anne has baked this sort of mindset into him, and its even MORE intense in a romantic aspect, because then hormones and puberty and sexual tension and attraction is involved (plus the fact that seb in my fic is 17, so he’s older and has even stronger raging hormones and testosterone LOL.

JEALOUSY: who can forget the lines “between the two of you, I’m starting to feel left out” and “ominis simply needs a moment with you and he’ll change his mind. is that it?” the first one is more playful but I feel like the second one really showcases sebs brand of jealousy, and how biting and uncharitable it can be.

AGGRESSION/VIOLENCE: yet another iconic line with: “fine. but ominis knows, I won’t step back from a fight.” LIKE... the fact that apparently ominis knows this means its come up more than once…and im not saying seb is some unruly aggressor who flies off the handle at anything, but he defs has a capacity and is willing to get violent if HE believes the situation calls for it—basically the same way he feels about the dark arts. he felt justified using imperio to protect anne, and taking the relic to save anne, and so he would have fought ominis to get out of the catacomb. and with MY seb, while he doesn’t go picking fights with any boy who looks or gets close to clora, he’ll definitely be willing to beat up or lay hands on a creep who bothers clora/who is in the process of bothering her LOL.

SO YEAH, that’s pretty much it, and I’ll be the first to admit I definitely ramp up these traits further because he’s older in my fic and i think these traits would only get more intensified with age + being in love and also bc IM A TWILIGHT GIRLIE!!! what can I say. there are so many moments in my fic where you can just replace seb with edward and it wouldn’t seem out of place tbh LMAOO so blame twilight, it was a formative experience for me BAHAHA

BUT like I ALSO said, I don’t think peoples more lighthearted interpretations of seb are ooc either. because even all my earlier above examples, you can just focus on diff aspects of them. like his tunnel vision and obsession to cure anne? instead of seeing it as over the top protective and possessive, you can just view it in a more wholesome determined selfless sort of way. like I said we got so many nice little bits and ingredients of his personality that we can turn into anything we want, really👌just pick which flavour of seb u like best and use what we got in game to create it HAHA

AW TYY QUEEN BAHAHA💖 and aw im always so honoured when ppl tell me they consider my stuff canon that’s like the best compliment I can get, tysm 😭 and im glad you like my fic and art so much (enough for your friends and family to unfortunately know💀 LMAOO)

im adding your ask to this because it kinda ties into my seb essay. LETS GET INTO WHY A SWEET BABY ANGEL WOULD LIKE SOMEONE LIKE SEB. the answer ISSS: the same reason WE’RE also all into him I guess?? BAHHA

ok but to start off im gonna defend my seb, not only cause of what you said anon (i dont want you to feel like this is targeted to you!) but also bc I got an ask recently asking me to summarize seb and clora’s relationship since all they see from my art is that “they fuck and seb is possessive” LMAO, and I feel like ppl who JUST see my art and don’t read my fic have a warped image of my seb.

this may be shocking but I don’t consider my seb a red flag LMAO. I joke about how hes more of a pink flag tbh, but even THAT i dont even really believe, and don’t even consider him overly possessive. like yes he keeps an eye on her when shes hanging around other boys, but I feel like that’s normal (esp for 1890) and all of his most possessive moments have been when theres been a threat to cloras life/coming from a place of love and protection (especially since clora is so self-sacrificial, she’d have killed herself by now if not for seb LOL) so to me id actually put Sebastian as being PROTECTIVE as his first and foremost trait, followed by the possessiveness.

and yeah he gets jealous, but unless a dude is actively trying to get with her/hitting on her/harassing her, he’ll otherwise just kinda be unhappy about it/let it play out/ watch on unhappily LOL. and even when lawley was blackmailing clora and getting in between her and sebs relationship and lying about how close he and clora were, seb demanded answers from CLORA on what was happening between the two of them, but he didn’t touch lawley or tell him to stay away. bc seb thought that was what clora wanted, so he let her drift away. if he was TRULY a red flag, in this instance he would have just beat up lawley for taking what was "his"/not allow clora to leave him/immediately go to lawley instead of clora, and tell him to stay away despite what clora might want. (and clora even WISHED seb had interfered and done this. she was like 'why is he letting me drift away and go off with lawley i WANT him to fight for me...but she couldn't actually say anything thanks to the blackmail)

clora doesn’t just 'put up' with sebs more possessive and protective behaviour though, she actually likes it HAHA. just bc shes a precious baby angel, we all like a bad boy, even back then. just look at jane eyre, and how popular the dark and brooding and assholey mr. rochester was.

she tells seb at one point that she likes those things about him, even his immature competitive side, and his darker sides, and that he shouldn’t try to hide them or change himself because she accepts them. and even putting aside all of the stuff they’ve been through together that has bonded them (like the main canon quests + annes curse and then CLORA being cursed, and then clora being kidnapped and seb saving her) clora thought seb was roguish and charming and witty and intelligent and good looking from day 1. add to the fact that he’s just so devoted to her in everything he does, that even if he CAN get a bit overbearing at times, how could you NOT fall for someone like that😩 someone whose possessive behavior just stems from wanting to protect you and love you and want to keep you safe and cherish you like DAMN…. GET ME A SEB, TOO. WHERES MINE!!!😭😭

clora also realizes in ch 32 WHY seb is so protective of her (the trauma with his parents and wanting to be there for anne) and that she accepts it, and enjoys it, and that she might even MISS it if seb were to ever get less protective of her/might get lonely LOL, and then sebs like "i’ve "spoiled you, have i?"

so YEAH I don’t think sebs protectiveness and possessiveness goes into any toxic territory or red flag territory PERSONALLY (and the time that it DID get toxic was because of the relic, and clora DID put her foot down)

but my normal seb? whose dream in life is to whisk clora away into a tower and lock her up to keep her safe and keep her all to himself, but that he’d never ACTUALLY do because he knows its insane and unreasonable but jokes about wanting to do it anyway bc he would if clora agreed? clora finds that endearing and cute and is touched by how much he loves her and wants to keep her safe.

IN CLOSING: I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOUR AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

[iridecsense]

 Lip Smacker - m.

⤷ summary: in which izuku, katsuki, and shouto make a bet about what flavor chapstick you wear.

word count: 4.8k   pairing: tdbkdk | fem!reader   warnings: none ♡   genre: crack, smut | lime author’s note: This is a COLLEGE AU, meaning all characters are aged up to 18+ consenting adults—more specifically all characters are in their 20s.

If there was one thing about you that everyone knew, it was that you were not one to shy away from PDA with anyone. And by anyone, that means anyone. It was no secret you were overly-affectionate, especially with your friends. It wasn't a bad thing, just a little jarring at times. 

You were a big cuddler. It was absolutely normal to embrace one of your friends and hold them hostage on the common room couch. It was practically routine. Holding hands was another habit of yours. You hated walking to class alone, and whoever you convinced to go with you would have your hand tightly wrapped around theirs the entire time.

There were other ticks too, like how you’d sit on the nearest person’s lap even if there was space for you elsewhere, or when you essentially tackle your friends into a hug when you got too excited, which was surprisingly quite often. It’s just how you were, and your friends had long since accepted that. 

There was one thing, however, that a certain group of testosterone-heavy someones couldn't wrap their heads around. As harmless and simple as it may have seemed to you, it really stirred up tensions with your guy friends. Out of all your little ticks, there was one tick you loved to do the most, and that was kiss.

It wasn’t a sexual thing. In fact it was far from it. You kissed everyone, including your girl friends. Truthfully, you kissed your girl friends more often than your guy friends, but it didn't change the fact that you kissed a lot. Like... a lot. So much so that the guys of your dorm have a bit of a competition around it. 

You see, you were a very pretty girl. You were sweet and kind, and adorable, and all the things guys fawn over in a spritely young woman such as yourself. Having someone like you around the dorms was a blessing for them. A pretty girl who isn’t afraid of some platonic touching with the opposite sex? What an absolute win!

“I’m telling you guys, y/n totally wants me!” Denki burst into the common room.

“Did you take the stairs? Why are you sweating?” Mina asked, turning around on the couch to face him.

“Yeah, the elevator was too slow,” he huffed, throwing his bag on the floor and jumping onto an empty chair.

Jirou scrunched her nose. “We live on the third floor why are you sweating that much?” 

“Oh my GOD, did you guys not hear what I said?” Denki groaned, changing the subject. “y/n wants me! She wants my plug in her outlet, and she wants me to stick it in and out all night long!” 

The room erupted into a sea of disgusted groans. A rogue pillow found itself impacted in Denki’s face, courtesy of Mina. 

“Ew, dude?!” Jirou cringed. 

Kirishima shook his head disapprovingly. “Come on, man. Not cool.” 

“That’s just gross,” said Sero.

“Trust me, the last thing y/n wants is any of...” Mina gestured to Denki. “that.”

“I know I am going to regret asking you this, but what happened to make you think that she wants you.” Kirishima curiously asked. 

Denki smiled and excitedly made his way to sit on the open seat between Mina and Kirishima. 

“I was walking back from class, right? And I saw y/n walking to class on her own. So, I ran up and offered to walk with her there. She smiles all big, bats her eyes and goes ‘Oh Denki, thank you so much! I’m so happy you’re here! Why don’t you just take me already, oh-hoo-hoo-hoo~!’”

Jirou rolled her eyes. “She did not say that.” 

“She might as well have!” He countered rather defensively. “Anyway, she takes my hand and––dude, she’s so close to me I can smell her shampoo—she's brushing against my arm, laughing at all my jokes; and when we get to the science building she’s all big-eyes and pouty lips, ‘Thank’s again Denki, you are such a good friend,’ and then, boom! She lays one on me, right here!” He points to his left cheek where there was a faint pink glossy mark. 

“Oh, so like, what she’s like with literally everyone else,” Sero bleats. 

“Nah man, you weren't there, you didn’t see the way she looked at me! Those were fuck me eyes, I’m telling you.”

Jirou suddenly stood from her seat in the lounge chair. “Seriously, guys? If you’re gonna keep talking about y/n like that, I’m leaving. You guys are gross. Animals.”

“Yeah, I’m out too.” Mina followed Jirou to their room leaving the boys to themselves.

“I don’t know what they’re so mad about. They get to room with her. If I got to share a room with y/n I'd be the happiest man on earth,” Denki swoons.

“Yeah because you’d be the last man on earth, dipshit,” Sero snickers, causing the others to laugh. 

Denki’s cheeks turn red. “Whatever! You guys are just jealous because y/n likes me the most.”

“What, because she kissed you once on the cheek? Please, she’s kissed me at least three times,” Sero not-so-humbly brags.

Denki shoots up from his seat. “No way!”

“Yeah, and even then, it’s obvious who her favorites are, and—newsflash—it's not you or me.”

Just as Sero was picking apart the last bricks of hope Denki had left, the elevator dinged, revealing the other occupants of the floor. 

Kirishima smiled. “Sero’s right. Your little science building peck ain’t got nothing on whatever the fuck those three got going on with her.” He gestured to the three boys who leisurely walked in.

“What are you guys talking about?” Izuku asked as he stepped from the elevator with Katsuki and Shouto following behind. 

“We were just trying to see which one of us is y/n kisses the most to figure out who her favorite among the guys is,” Sero answered.

Katsuki sucked his teeth, his already permanent frown deepening. “Do you idiots really have nothing better to talk about?”

“It’s easy for you to not care when she’s all over you 24/7,” Denki pouts. “‘Katsuki can you open this for me please? Katsuki can you walk with me to psych? Katsuki can I lay on your lap while you play overwatch?’” Denki offensively mimics the sound of your voice. 

The common room erupted into snickers, turning the hot-headed blond’s neck red. “Watch it, dumbass,” he warns.

“Well, if you’re really that curious, I believe it's me,” said Shouto confidently, earning everyones attention. 

Katsuki’s brow twitched. “Oh, yeah? What makes you think that Icy-hot?”

“I can think of many occasions when y/n has kissed me and most of them were on the mouth. I think that would make me the favorite,” he stated as if it were fact.

It was this revelation that captured the attention of everyone in the room with great surprise. 

“You’ve kissed y/n on the mouth multiple times?” Sero gawked.

“She kissed me,” he clarified cooly.

“No way Shouto kissed y/n on the mouth before me!” Cried Denki dramatically, causing Shoji to comfort him. “That sneaky bastard preyed on our sweet, innocent girl and took advantage of her!” 

“I told you, she kissed me,” Shouto reiterated once more, becoming increasingly irritated.

Kirishima gave a heavy-handed pat to his back. “Congratulations, dude! I didn’t know you had it in you,” he smiled encouragingly.

Katsuki scoffed and crossed his arms. “So what? y/n’s kissed me on the lips too, and some of them weren't just innocent pecks neither.”

A strangled cry muffled by Shoji’s chest escaped Denki’s lips. 

“Guys should we really be talking about this?” Izuku shifted nervously. 

“Don’t go acting all high and mighty, Deku!” Yelled Katsuki. “I saw you and y/n kissing at the culture festival last month!”

“Stalk much?” Sero muttered snarkily under his breath.  Izuku’s cheeks went red and a coy smile spread across his lips. “Well...”

Denki broke free from Shoji’s strong arms and rushed towards Izuku, taking him by the collar. His reddened cheeks were stained with tears and nostrils flared. “Is this true Midoriya? Please, tell me it isn't true!”

“It is,” Izuku admitted, completely flustered and somewhat scared of his passionate, but clearly deranged friend. 

Denki fell to his knees. “You have to tell me what it was like! Was there tongue? How soft were her lips? What did she taste like? Tell me, I need to know!”

“This is getting sad,” Kirishima frowned, genuinely concerned, and Sero nodded in agreement. 

“I-I don’t know,” Izuku stuttered. “It was nice, I guess...” His mind went back to the day she kissed him at the festival by the taiyaki booth, and all the other times she’d placed her lips on his. He smiled softly. “Her chapstick tastes like watermelon.”

Denki smiled. “Watermelon,” he hummed. “Why didn't I think of that, that’s perfect for her! Fresh and sweet, just like her!”

“It’s not watermelon, idiot,” Katsuki spoke up. “It’s vanilla. It's always been vanilla.”

Izuku furrowed his brows. “Vanilla?” 

“Now that I think about it vanilla does suit her style better,” Denki muttered to himself. “I think Bakugou might be right on this one!”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s watermelon,” Izuku asserted. 

“Strawberry.”

Everyone turned to Shouto, who all of the sudden looked very serious. “Her chapstick is strawberry flavored.”

The three boys locked eyes in an intense stare-off. Kirishima and Sero shared a look and identical smirks, hatching the same idea. 

“Why don’t we make this interesting,” Sero cut in, his mischievous grin glinting. “Why don't we make it a bet? Watermelon vs. Vanilla vs. Strawberry. Whoever is right can claim that they’ve kissed y/n the most, and therefore is her favorite.”

“I’ll take that bet,” says Izuku confidently. 

Katsuki scoffed. “You seem pretty confident for a jackass that’s about to lose!” 

“The same could be said about you too, Bakugou” Shouto quipped, poking the blond’s already short-temper. 

While the three fought, the rest of the boys that still littered the room placed their educated bets, spreading the word to the others in a group chat. Soon all of class 1-A and some of class 1-B had placed their bets on what flavor chapstick you wore. 

All of this, of course, was unbeknownst to you as you were conveniently left out of the betting chat, along with Mina and Jirou as were your closest friends and would undoubtedly blab to you about the whole thing. You had to be kept in the dark, which made the events of the following week rather...interesting.

It started the next day, after bets had been placed and the tension between Shouto, Katsuki, and Izuku manifested in their sudden desperate efforts to cater to your every need. You didn't suspect anything at first. You’d just assumed that the boys were being kind. 

You woke up early, two hours earlier than when you needed to be up in preparation for your first class. It was sunrise and despite you still being tired, you couldn't fall back asleep no matter how hard you tried. Giving up, you slipped from your bed and into your robe and slippers. Groggily, you made your way to the kitchen to make yourself a mug of coffee to sip on while you watched TV in the common room until you decided to start your day. 

It was there that you ran into Shouto, standing in his pajamas over a hot stove cooking a fried egg. His back was turned to you and you debated announcing your presence. However, you should have known the son of the number one hero was always incredibly keen on his surroundings. 

“Would you like some?” His question hung in the air, waiting for you to catch it.

“You don’t have to,” you sputter, suddenly flustered. “It looks like you’re almost done. I was just getting some coffee.” You said as you stood at the kitchen island. 

Without saying a word, he grabbed the bowl full of fried rice at his side and slid the fried egg on top, drizzling a demi-glace sauce on top before turning around and placing it in front of you. He took your mug from your hands and replaced it with a spoon. You watched him, almost starry-eyed, as he placed your mug under the coffee machine and pressed the button to make it brew with coffee. He said nothing, and made himself another bowl. 

You smiled softly and took a seat on a stool at the island, deciding to watch him cook instead of another episode of Too Hot To Handle. 

“Thank you, Shouto,” you said as you scooped a spoon full of rice into your mouth. You hummed in delight. 

Shouto’s lips twitched into a barely-noticeable smile, not that you could notice it with his back facing you. “Do you like it?” He asked. 

“I love it!” You praise. “I didn’t know you could cook so well!”

Shouto did the same as he did before, taking his bowl of fried rice and covering it with a hot egg and demi-glace sauce. He found himself a spoon and walked over to the coffee machine, which had filled your mug with hot, black coffee. He grabbed it too, and came over to take a seat at your side. Reaching his long arms to the center of the isle he brought closer the sugar and creamer for your brew. You thanked him again. 

“My sister Fuyumi is the better cook,” he told you. “She taught me how to make a few things for myself while I am away at university. Quick, simple meals, like rice and ramen. Nothing special.”

“Thank goodness for your sister then,” you said. “Maybe I should wake up this early everyday so I can steal more of your delicious breakfast, simple or not.”

You giggled to yourself and took another bite. Shouto watched you from the corner of his eye. He’d never seen you like this, in the morning with a fresh face and your hair tied back, dressed in your pajamas and a robe that hung loosely off one shoulder. 

It is in moments like these, when Shouto finds himself alone with you that he is reminded of your magnetic attraction. Even he could not resist it, the thing about you that cast a spell upon all those you meet, rendering them your adoring subjects. He ate silently beside you, only occasionally engaging in small talk when you incited it. When you had finished, he reached for your empty bowl, prepared to clear it for you, but your hand gripped his wrist. You stood from your stool. 

“The least I can do is clean the dishes. You should go. I know you’re only up this early to train before class.”

Though it was your hand that encased his left wrist, it was he that felt burnt by your touch. You took the bowl from his hand and collected his from the isle counter to wash, but not before you stood on the tips of your toes to plant a soft peck to his lips on your way to the sink. It was sweet, innocent even, perhaps only lingering a half-a-second longer than it should’ve. But unlike the many previous kisses you’ve shared before, he licked his lips and could not help the smirk that appeared in response to the taste of candied strawberries that lingered on his tongue. 

“I was right,” he muttered to himself. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Right about what?” 

Shouto cleared his throat, his cheeks tinted pink. You’d never seen him do that before.  

“I mean, you were right,” he corrected himself.  “I should go. I’ll see you later, y/n.”

You nodded your head. “Oh, alright. See you later!” You called after him as he left to return to his room. 

The rest of the day went on rather normally. You had gotten ready and got to class on time (something that was rare) feeling particularly spritely and energized. You assumed it had something to do with having an actual breakfast instead of a singular mug of coffee. You reminded yourself to thank him properly the next time you saw him. 

Around lunchtime was when you encountered Katsuki. You had just gotten yourself lunch from one of the dining halls to eat at one of your favorite spots outside. It was a particularly nice day, especially for the dead of winter, so you decided to not let it go to waste. On your way there you saw a familiar mess of blond hair ahead of you. 

“Katsuki!” You yelled excitedly, quickening your pace to catch up to him.

His shoulders tensed and he stopped in his tracks, craning his neck to look behind him and expected to find someone annoying headed his way. He relaxed only a little when he saw it was you. Still someone annoying, but a lot less annoying than all of the people he knew. Once you reached him you gave a bright grin. The sun shone down on you, igniting the highlights of your hair and the color in your eyes, imitating an almost heavenly glow; the kind that even he couldn't deny made you look perfect. It was one of the many things about you that pissed him off. 

“Where ya goin’?” You asked in an almost sing-song voice. 

“Back to the room to take a nap, why?” He grumbled.

You held up your plastic bag of food. “Want to have lunch with me? I have extra.”

“No.” He said simply and began walking towards the dorm. 

You pouted, a small whine came from your chest and you chased after him. “Please, Katsuki?” You begged. “I don’t want to eat alone today. Besides, who else is going to help me eat all this spicy pork curry?”

He sighed, once again stopping his journey to his comfortable bed that had been calling his name since his 8 AM class. You smiled triumphantly, knowing you had won. He looked down at your heavy plastic bag full of what he now knows is spicy pork curry and other side dishes. Sucking his teeth he grabbed the food from your hand. “You’re lucky I’m fucking starving. Why buy so much if you weren't going to eat all of it?” 

He nagged you all the way to the campus arboretum, where you had a special place among the grass and trees you liked to sit and eat at. He was only giving you a hard time because it kept him from thinking about how pretty you looked in your dress, or how cute you had sounded begging him to come eat with you. He didn't want to think about how your arm often bumped his because you had an awkward, lop-sided gait, or about the smell of your perfume. All he wanted to do was get to your picnic spot and eat. So he did. 

The two of you ate together on a blanket you had brought. You’d gotten on the topic of final exams which turned into a shit-talking fest about who you both felt in your class would pass and who would fail. He found it very easy to talk to you and you never made him feel bad about the things he said, unlike most people who spend most of their energy scolding him instead of just talking. Not you though. You always let him talk. 

It was when he said something that made you laugh that you accidentally spilled your soda on your dress. You cursed and fumbled for napkins to dab it clean, but the stain was evident. 

“Dammit!” You groaned. “I have class in fifteen minutes I don't have time to change.”

You were so busy cleaning your mess, it wasn't until you felt the weight of Katsuki’s thick hoodie plop over your head that you knew he had even taken it off. You snorted a chuckle and pulled your head threw the neck hole to see him left in his black compression shirt. 

“Take it dumbass,” he told you. 

“You won’t be cold?” You asked. 

“I’m done for the day. Just bring it to my room later.” He said. 

You smiled and pushed your arms through the sleeves, pulling the oversized hoodie over you to cover the stain. It was...toasty, you think is the correct word, and it smelled like his cologne. You closed your eyes and held the fabric to your nose, inhaling his scent deeply. Katsuki furrowed his brows as he watched you.

“It smells so good!” You practically moan. “And it’s so warm. It’s like I’m getting the best hug in the world. A Kaachan hug!” You teased, snickering to yourself. 

Katsuki’s face grew hot, and he pinched your cheek, tugging with his fingers, making you yelp and whine from the minuscule pain. “Who told you to call me that, huh? Can’t you just say thank you like a normal person? I can take my hoodie back and let you walk around with a shitty stain on your dress.”

Your hand gripped his arm, attempting to pry him off. “Okay, okay!” You yell, half laughing, half hissing in pain. “I’m sorry! Thank you!”

Satisfied he let your cheek go, and you soothed the spot by rubbing it in circles with your hand. You pouted while he cleaned the blanket of your mess and threw the trash away while you folded it back up. He decided to walk you to class since he had nothing better to do and he knew you wanted him to (certainly not because he wanted to). When you made it to the entrance of your building you stopped and turned towards him. 

“Thanks for walking me and for the hoodie,” you smiled. “I’ll see you back in the dorms.”

You started to turn around when you felt his hand wrap around your arm, keeping you in place. Confused, you stood still. You might have been imagining things, but from where you stood, it looked as though his cheeks were flushed red. 

“What’s wrong, Katsuki?” You asked, concerned. 

“Don’t I...get a kiss?” He couldn't believe what he was saying. 

“A kiss?” You repeated, also not believing what he was saying.

“As a thank you,” he explained.

Your lips twitched into a teasing smile. “I thought you didn't like it when I did that in public.”

“When has that ever stopped you before!” He countered, his cheeks growing redder. 

You laughed and took a step closer, closing the gap between you. You craned your neck up to place a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. Unsatisfied, Katsuki sucked his teeth and reached his hand up to your chin, turning your head in a position for him to press his lips against yours, and kissed you. It was unexpected, but after a few seconds, the shock drifted away, and you closed your eyes, returning the kiss. It was longer than the kiss you shared with Shouto earlier that day, but not by much; and once it was over, he licked his lips. 

‘Vanilla...’ He thought as he pulled away. 

His hand fell from your chin and he sighed. “Hurry before you’re late,” was all he said before turning around and walking back towards the dorm, leaving you in a post-kiss daze. 

You made it to your class, albeit, late because your mind kept trying to make sense of the kiss that you’d accidentally passed the door to your classroom...twice. Of course, you had kissed Katsuki before. Kissing him on the lips wasn't necessarily a rare occurrence either. But never had he incited a kiss on his own—and in public? Well, that wasn't even in the realm of possibility before. No matter how many times you tried to convince yourself it wasn't strange, you couldn't help but feel suspicious. 

As you dissociated from your lecture your brain kept replaying the kiss, searching for a reason to why the kiss felt different. No, it didn't feel different. It felt strange. But it only felt strange because something about it felt familiar. It shouldn't have felt familiar. If a guy initiates a kiss with you for the first time it shouldn't feel familiar. Why did it feel familiar? 

And then it hit you. He licked his lips. 

He licked his lips!

Your brain switched to your kiss with Shouto earlier in the day. After you kissed him he had licked his lips too. You thought it was weird then, but didn't think twice about it. Now you were thinking twice.

‘I’m just being crazy,’ you thought. 

In what way could the kisses be related? What? Because they both happened to lick their lips afterwards? So what? That didn’t mean anything. It meant nothing. You were sure of it... 

Almost. 

You shook the thoughts from your head, refocusing your attention back to your professor at the front of the room. After class, you made your way back to the dorms to get started on your studies while Mina and Jiro were out. The sun had long since set, and you were two hours deep in frustration preparing for your Hero Physics midterm when a knock came from the door. 

You welcomed the distraction, considering you were about to re-read the same question for the fifth time with no progress of understanding it anytime soon, and if you read it again without a miraculous conclusion, you were going to bash your brains in with your laptop.

Needless to say, when you opened the door to see Izuku standing in the hall, you welcomed him with open arms. 

“Hey!” You smiled. 

Izuku looked you up and down. You were still wearing Katsuki’s hoodie, but you had switched out your dress for pajama pants and fuzzy socks. It was subtle, practically unnoticeable, but the slightest crease formed in-between his eyebrows when he noticed. 

“Is that Kaachan’s hoodie?” He asked. 

You looked down at your torso, as if you had forgotten you were wearing anything at all. “Oh, yeah,” you said. “I spilled soda all over my dress earlier while I was with him and he let me borrow it. Honestly, I’m thinking about keeping it at this point. I was supposed to return it as soon as I got back but it’s freezing in here because the thermostat is stuck at sixty-nine degrees and this hoodie is so much warmer than any of mine.”

“You should really call maintenance to fix that.” He brushed past you, entering your room and plopping his backpack on the floor by your desk. You closed the door behind him and crossed your arms.

“What's this?” He asked, picking up your notebook. 

“My suicide note.”

Izuku chuckled, looking over your notes and at the assignment on your computer. “I took Hero Physics last semester,” he told you. “I can help you if you want.” 

“If you want to dedicate your time to a hopeless cause, be my guest.”

And he did. He took a seat next to you at your desk and spent the next hour tutoring you on Hero Physics by walking you through questions like ‘Find the velocity of this speed-type hero’ and what-not. Surprisingly, it wasn't long into your session that you began to understand the words on your screen. You didn't suddenly become Einstein or anything, but at some point you started to work your way through them on your own with few mistakes. The assignment you had spent two hours slowly killing yourself over was completed in one with the help of your freckled friend. 

“I think you’re aiming for the wrong profession, Izuku,” you tell him. “Schools need more teachers.”

“Then schools should pay them more.”

You tried to snort back your laughter, ultimately failing, causing  Izuku to laugh along with you. 

“Want a drink?” You asked, standing to your feet. 

“Sure.” He nodded. You left him at your desk and came back with two Arizona teas from your mini fridge to share with him. 

“You never mentioned why you stopped by unannounced,” you said as you took a sip. “Not that you’re ever unwelcome.”

“Oh,” he smiled. “I guess I just wanted to see you.”

You looked down at your hands wrapped around the can, unable to meet his eyes. Izuku always managed to make you blush. You weren't sure if he meant to or not. Either way, he was completely oblivious to the effect he had on you. 

“Well thank you. It’s always nice to see you.”

Similarly, Izuku blushed as well, his cheeks turning pale red. His eyes shifted to the clock on your desk. “I should probably go,” he said, not really wanting to go. “It’s getting late.”

“Oh, right.” You both stood to your feet and Izuku gathered his things. You walked him to the door, leisurely leaning against the doorframe as he exited into the hall. “Think you can keep tutoring me?”

Izuku turned around. 

“I still need to pass finals,” you said. 

He nodded. “Then I'll make sure you pass finals.”

Grinning, you closed the space between you, mindlessly reaching to place a kiss on his cheek when you were reminded of the other kisses you'd shared with Shouto and Katsuki. A thought in the back of your mind spurred from your suspicions—a thought that quickly turned into an idea. At the last second, you acted on your impulse to b-line for his lips, catching you both off guard. You stuck with it, pressing your lips against his harder than you intended. The action stunned him, but it didn't take him longer than a second to embrace it.

It was just a kiss. Not unlike the many kisses you often shared with the others. Not unlike the kisses you've given him before. It was just a simple peck...until it wasn't. 

You pulled away, prepared to give him your thanks for helping you with your studies. But, you never got the chance. Your words were silenced by his lips chasing after yours. Your breath hitched in your throat as your back pressed against the door frame. His hands cupped your cheeks and your lips moved in sync, his tongue daring to swipe across your lips. In the heat of the moment, your mouth nearly opened for him, but he pulled away just as your lips began to part, and you opened your eyes to meet dark green irises peering down at your flushen face. 

Your eyes flickered down to his pink lips, now reddened and somewhat swollen. You watched in disbelief as—just like the others—he, too, licked his lips. 

“Watermelon,” he said lowly. Your chest heaved, your words escaping you. Izuku stepped back, his usual sickeningly sweet smile staring back at you as if nothing happened. 

“We should split some watermelon,” he said. “The next time we study together. That’s my asking rate.”

You nodded hazily. “Okay.”

With that, he said goodbye and left you standing in the doorway to your room dumbfounded. 

.

.

.

Yeah.

Something definitely was up. 

[jd07201990]

The next time you’re at a Grecian Resort, enjoying the food, the pool, and the breeze from the ocean, be sure not to insult a God, hiding in plain sight as a gym Trainer; Unless you want to be, “Blessed” with Herculean strength, and everything the movie didn’t mention comes with that! I wasn’t an athlete at all. This was supposed to be a vacation before college, where I was majoring in Physics. Then, one afternoon while I was passing by the Resort’s gym, I saw a hoard of sweating, grunting behemoths, lifting, running, and posing, while a beast of a man with Silver-Blonde hair and a thick beard, pushed them hard. I snorted, remembering the meatheads at school who’d gotten free-ride scholarships for sports, while I’d worked hard to keep my GPA flawless. The man locked eyes with me, glared, and suddenly I found myself walking toward him, my feet doing the work as I struggled to try to stop. This is why I should have kept my mouth shut. But when he made me explain why I thought Athletics wasn’t important, I decided to be snide, insulting anyone wasting time with sports and weights. Then, emboldened by his relative silence, his arms crossing over his titanic chest, I went in for him as well, his age mostly, but also that he worked as a trainer at a Resort, not something to brag about. Well, turns out that was Zeus, this is his resort, and every one of those beefed up, thick-built lumbering brutes currently filling the gym with a humid funk, were snotty rich boys who’d been stuck here for weeks, as the Zeus forced them to grow. I was then pushed onto a bench, and began helplessly lifting, as Zeus pushed me through the first workout of my life, and many, many more. I was there 3 months and did nothing but eat, sleep, workout, and sometimes we were allowed to talk with the others. Over that time, with the help of a cursed metabolism, I had to stuff myself at every meal, often snacking in between. We were all like this, constantly shoving food into our mouths to fuel the endless bulk. The whole place seemed to ring out with grunting, groaning, the sound of protein shakes being chugged, and helpless belching, as our bodies burned the calories into pounds. We had no choice, and Zeus only made it worse when you complained. By the time my vacation was finished, I was 6’, 205lbs of thick, padded bulk. Just a pile of muscle, lumbering around on huge, sweaty size 14s. Everything about me had gotten big. Even my hair grew, wild and curly, although it was also more often than not, plastered to my forehead as I grunted out another 50 reps. No matter how much I showered, there was always the lingering scent of testosterone pouring from under my arms. My pecs were Zeus’s pride, and he finally let me go when he said I’d gotten far too big to ever hide the muscle and warned me that I’d never lose the bulk, that I’d always be starving for food, and would get fat if I didn’t work out. That’s how I started college as a Big, sweaty Physics Major, with a skinny little roommate who complains about my mountain of dirty laundry, my sweaty shoes, and has no idea there’s nothing I can do about it! I can’t fight it, I eat, I sleep, I work out, and sometimes I even get to study, when I’m not getting crumbs all over my textbooks.

[lunar-serpentinite]

alright kiddos buckle up, cloud has Opinions today

let's talk about the alpha douchification of harry and baby girlification of draco, as blackcathjp so wonderfully said

i will tell you that this isnt my first rodeo when it comes to mlm ships being shoved into heteronormative gender roles. ive been in the yaoi fandom, ive been in the BL fandom, ive been a weeb since i was aged single digits. im perfectly aware of how deep in mlm ship spaces this issue is. but today's subject of interest is drarry, and why i dont like a certain popular characterisation of drarry.

first of all let's pose the question : why is harry the manly alpha head honcho douchebag dumbass jock ? why is draco the naughty bratty overdramatic babygirl princess ? why do yall feel the need to push harry and draco into these stereotypical gender roles, especially in smut ? whats up with that ?

yes harry is a quidditch guy but that doesnt automatically make him a dumbass jock ? the guy's not stupid. i wont elaborate because i and several others have discussed harry's intelligence in other posts already (will link if asked), but yeah harry's not a "dumbass" or a "himbo", at least not in the way you people love to characterise him as. hes not even trying to be a dominating presence. hell, the guy wants to skeddaddle out of situations 8 times out of 10. hes a rough kind of dude, sure, but thats more for his own protection and not out of a need to dominate or control other people. it's weird and stupid to reduce harry's character just to make him fit yalls' homophobic and heteronormative view of mlm dynamics.

SPEAKING OF THAT, what is up with people overplaying draco's overdramatic tendencies and tying it to being a sub and/or a bottom or being the 'feminine' one in the relationship ? i love my bratty subs as much as the next person (my no.1 blorbo rn is a bratty sub who BITES), but if draco's only a bratty sub because hes an overdramatic princess diva who is so, so helpless without the presence of testosterone in your eyes, you need to reevaluate. yes hes a bit helpless in canon but again he was a kid with no pratical combat experience caught up in a war. + his parents' safety being dangled in front of him who wouldnt be helpess in that scenario ?

people absolutely love to explore draco's gender beyond being masculine and theoretically i love that because i love seeing people interpret characters all over the gender spectrum but there's just something about the popular draco gender exploration that just ,,, irks me, for the lack of a better word. people make him smaller ??? than he actually is ?? more helpless ??? like the height and size difference between drarry in canon isnt that noticeable but by god do people stretch it out to infinity and beyond. to make the fem-coded half of the ship smaller and more helpless and more dramatic is, frankly, toeing the lines of misogynistic if it isnt there already.

and why is it that it's always harry who is hypermasculine and draco who is hyperfeminine ? why not have both be feminine ? both be masculine ? both be all over the gender spectrum ? whyyyyyyy do they have to be male x female coded ??? hello ?????? if i wanted a heterosexual ship, i wouldnt be here

like come on guys, theres a bunch of different ways to write mlm ships and a bunch of resources out there to help you get going. why are we still sticking with the heteronormative gender roles in this day and age ? have we not grown out of it yet ?

THIS DOESNT MEAN I DONT HAVE AN ISSUE W HYPERFEMININE HARRY AND HYPERMASCULINE DRACO TOO. i despise heteronormative gender role coding. let queer ships be queer without the lens of heteronormativity.

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[cherrycola27]

Man to Make Me Sweat

Pairing: Rooster x Reader (Call Sign: Moxie)

Warnings: Language, Smut, so much smut, porn with plot. Age Gap, Choking, Spanking, Orgasm Denial, Over stimulation, Authority Kink.

Shout out to @thedroneranger for beta reading and listening to my word vomit! This fic was inspired by the Leslie Powell song "Man to Make Me Sweat"

"Guys thank you so much for helping me plan this!" You sqeual at the people infront of you. Rooster's 35th birthday was coming up and you had planned a surprise party with the help of the Dagger Squad, Maverick and Penny, who had agreed to shut the Hard Deck down for the party.

"You know Rooster hates his birthday." Phoenix piped up. "Yes I know, but I'm hoping my little surprise for him will change that." You smirked.

While you were a fellow Navy pilot, you hadn't crossed paths much with the Daggers until you had met Phoenix at a Pole dancing class.

You two instantly hit it off, and she had invited you out to get drinks with them the next night, that's when you met Rooster, and the rest was history. While it was no secret that you and Phoenix took the class together, Rooster had never seen you dance for him, and tomorrow that was about to change.

Phoenix had helped you choreograph a lap dance to one of your favorite songs and you were going to surprise Rooster with it.

Sure it might be a little embarrassing for your coworkers to see your moves, but you wanted your boyfriend to feel extra special for his birthday. You joked that he was going to officially be an old man, to which he defend that there was only a five year age gap between the two of you.

"Well Moxie, if Rooster doesn't appreciate, I know I will" Hangman smirked at you, causing Phoenix to promptly smack him on the back of his head.

"Ow Nix, what the hell?" He grimaced.

"Comments like that are why you don't have a girlfriend and why I have to convince Rooster not to murder you almost everyday." Phoenix responded.

"Okay children enough fighting. Boys I need you guys to go get Rooster and bring him here in one hour. Phoenix and Bob and I are going to finish setting up. Payback since you are the most... responsible of the group, please text me when you are five minutes out." You state before everyone leaves.

An hour later you were hiding behind the stage curtain you had set up. Rooster had been pouting saying how it wasn't fair that his girl wasn't there for his party because you had to work late... boy was he in for a surprise.

Hangman and Coyote had managed to convince him to sit in the strategicly placed chair you had set out.

"And now ladies and gents, Rooster's of all ages, please put your hands together for a very special performance by our very own Moxie!" Phoenix said into the microphone to the group before the music started. You had chosen one of your favorite songs "Man to Make Me Sweat" to do your routine too.

You stepped out onto the stage wearing one of Rooster's Hawiian shirts, a pair of aviator sunglasses, a white crop top and some cut off shorts.

His eyes went wide at the sight of you while the rest of the room of testosterone filled pilots howled and wolf whistled. You noticed Bob over in to corner looking like we was ready to throw Holy Water on everyone.

The first verse started and you began your dance, swaying your body to the beat, flipping your hair and keeping eye contact with Rooster.

You trailed your hands up his thighs and jerked him forward by his dog tags.

When the first chorus began you roughly dropped onto his lap and ground your hips against him. You flipped your hair and pressed your breasts in his face.

You watched him lick his lips as you dropped to the floor for the second verse. Slowly you crawled up his body and guided his hands to touch you.

By the time the second chorus came around you were shamelessly grinding on his now very hard cock as he fondled you.

When the song ended you were both panting while everyone cheered.

Rooster pulled you close and whispered in your ear.

"I'm taking you home right now to show you just how much I can make you sweat Moxie.

Forty minutes later, Rooster was emerging from your thighs after giving you your third orgasm of the night

You can't help but smile. You love it when Rooster gets like this, needy, possessive, primal.

When you first got together everyone gave you shit for dating someone who was almost six years older than you. Several of your civilian friends teased you for having daddy issues or if servicing the elderly was part of your job in the Navy. You just rolled your eyes at their comments, many of them dated men their age or younger, they didn't know what they were missing out on.

No one had ever fucked you like Rooster did, and as your relationship progressed, you didn't hesitate to let your friends know that your "old man" kept you very satisfied while their "younger models" couldn't keep up.

You were finally coming down from you high, but you still weren't satisfied. You wanted to see how far you could push him. Rooster crawled up your body leaving sloppy wet kisses in his wake. His mustache scraped your sensitive skin causing you to tremble.

You felt the fat head of his cock pressing into your slick entrance, and with one fluid motion Rooster was buried in you to the hilt.

"Always so fucking tight for me Moxie. It's like you cunt was made for me." He groaned out before setting a steady rhythm. His fingers flexed against your hips as he drove into you. You could feel his blunt nails digging into your skin.

It always felt so good when he took you, but you wanted his birthday sex to be extra special. You knew he was desperate for you, to mark you, to claim you. Especially after your little show at the Hard Deck, so, you pushed.

"It's that all you've got Old Man?" You moaned out.

His hips stopped suddenly.

"Old Man?" He grunts out while he is still inside you.

You smirk back up at him as he pulls all the way out and slams back into you causing you to arch up.

"You say Old Man like its a bad thing... you think someone younger could fuck you like I do sweetheart? I doubt they could make you cum three times before they even got inside you" He tells you as he picks up the pace. A groan leaves your lips has he drags his cock over your g-spot, the head of it hitting it with each hard stroke.

"I don't know babe, Hangman talks a big game." You shoot back at him.

A low rumble leaves his chest as he pulls out and swiftly flips you over. He pushes your face down into the mattress and has your ass up the in air on display for him.

His large hand makes contact with it causing you to yelp from pleasure and pain.

Rooster fists your hair and and jerks your head up before whispering in your ear. "Moxie baby, I'm only going to tell you this once. Don't ever say his name while I've got you naked ever again. You want to see what this old man's got... I'll show you exactly what this 'old man' is made of, I'll have you so fucked out and cock drunk you won't be able to walk straight for a week darlin"

You knew you had him right where you wanted him, but you were feeling extra bratty so without thinking of the consequences you uttered "Well, what are you waiting for old man, prove it."

That set Rooster a blaze. He roughly palmed your ass before smacking it again. Without warning he plunged himself into you. His hips pistoned against yours quickly driving you to another peak.

"Oh fuck yes Rooster, just like that" you cried out as your hands fisted the sheets. You desperately tried to meet his thrusts but he held you firmly in place.

"Guess I should have known you were a brat with a call sign like Moxie." He grunted out. His fingers dug deeper into your sides as you clamped down on him. You were so close, your body hummed, and just as you were about to fall, he abruptly pulled out.

"Bradley no..." You whined as your chest heaved.

"You didn't really think I was going to let you get away with calling me an old man with out punishment did you sweetheart?" He purred in your ear as he rubbed himself between your folds.

"I'm sorry Rooster, I was just teasing you sir." You groaned, hoping it would cause him to give in, you knew he had an authority kink.

"Have you learned your lesson Moxie?" He asked.

"Yes Sir I promise I have." You stated shaking your head.

This seemed to please him because he pushed back into you. Starting slow and working back up.

You whined and squirmed beneath him. You were even more wound up than before. Each thrust of his hips sent a delicious pleasure through you.

You could feel the tightening in your belly and your toes curling. Rooster's breath was ragged as he pushed both of you to the finish. One of his hands left your hips and made its way to your hair, grabbing it and snapping your head up. You were at his mercy and you were totally okay with that.

"Yes Bradley, right there I'm so close." You moaned out. You could feel your finish, you were so close you could taste it and then... he stopped again.

"Fuck... please...Rooster... please." You groaned.

"If you want to cum baby girl, you're going to have to be more convincing. I don't think you've learned your lesson." He mocked you.

"I promise I have, I'm sorry, I'll be a good girl Bradley, please, please, please let me cum" you babbled. You feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes. He was still deep inside you. You flexed around him causing him to hiss.

That earn you another spank. "Such a fucking needy brat." He said dropping his hand from your hair and curling it around your throat. He pulled you flush against him.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" He whispered in your ear before sinking his teeth into your lobe.

"Only for you sir. I promise I'll be your good girl. Please let me cum." You pleaded with him as tears began to slide down your face.

That seemed to make him have mercy on you. Rooster once again began thrusting into you. This time he didn't hold back, this thrust were hard and demanding. The head of his cock kissed your cervix with each one.

His hand dropped from your throat and went to your clit were he drew tight circles on it. You were so, so close after being wound up and let down twice.

"Rooster please, I'm so close... please... don't stop" you begged.

"I can feel how close you are... I know how bad you need to cum. Just say the magic word darling and I will give you what you want." He cooed to you.

Your bratty side had gone to his head and now he was on a power trip. You knew what he wanted, and he knew you were desperate but you still refused to give it.

"Please sir, let me be your good girl and cum for you. Let me cum all over your cock." You moaned.

"While that sounds amazing honey, those aren't the words I'm looking for." He shot back.

"Rooster—please!" You shouted as he gave a particularly hard thrust.

He laughed.

"Say it. Come on princess I know you're dying to cum. You're the one who keeps torturing yourself. Quit. Being. So. Fucking. Stubborn. And. Say. It." He punctuated each word with a hard snap of his hips.

You let out a pathetic whimper as the small trickle of tears turned into a stream.

"DADDY PLEASE!" You screamed throwing your head back. You couldn't take it anymore.

"That's right. That's my girl." He praised you.

Rooster picked up his efforts, pounding into you erratically while his finger worked your clit.

"Oh fuck Daddy I'm so close please don't stop." You begged him, you knew if he did stop you wouldn't be able to handle it.

"Daddy isn't going to stop until you cum all over him Princess. Come in baby I know how bad you need to. Be a good girl and cum for Daddy." He moaned in your ear.

Your chest was heaving and your heart was racing, you felt overwhelmed everything was too much and not enough at the same time. Your body was wound tight. A rubber band waiting to snap. Rooster continued his assault, pushing you further and futher toward your pleasure. His hand on your hip came across your chest and pulled you impossibly closer to him.

His lips found your ear as he panted out "Cum for me." It wasn't a statement, it was a demand, and it was all you needed to finish.

Your body shook as pleasure coursed through you, covering his cock, your thighs, his thighs, and the sheets.

"YesyesyesohyesDaddy" you babbled out as your body trembled against him.

Rooster followed closely behind you, filling you to the brim and spilling out, his release mixing with your own.

You both collapsed against the bed, thoroughly spent. It took you both several minutes to regain your composure.

You turned over in his arms to face him.

"How was that for an Old Man?" He joked. "S'good" you slurred, your body still coming down from the high.

"Happy Birthday." You murmured snuggling close to him.

"Thank you baby. How about we get a nice hot bath and get cleaned up and then change the sheets before bed? We made a mess." He said before pressing a kiss to your hair line.

"Sounds good Roo." You mumbled into his chest as he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom.

He drew a hot bath and gently set you in before climbing in behind you. You relaxed against his chest.

"Roos, you may be an old man, but I'm glad your mine." You sighed against him.

"I'm glad I'm your old man to baby." He grinned before relaxing further into the hot water.

Tag List: @dreamingathighaltitude @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mak-32 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @rosiahills22 @thedroneranger @roosterforme

Likes are great but I appreciate reblogs and comment too!

Also would we like to see more or Moxie... let me know!

[the-delta-quadrant]

robyn holdaway (the person who played layla in sex education) made a tiktok about how most of the transantagonistic hate comments they get are calling them a girl to infantilise them, only rarely and in specific circumstances do they call them a woman to frame them as a groomer. they talked about how trans men & afab nonbinary people tend to be infantilised.

then i realised that this never actually happened to me.

like, i've seen this happen to specific people time and time again. i've seen enough general statements about "poor girls destroying their lives" and needing to be saved. i've seen it so much that i've internalised it. after all, i'm the thing they're talking about.

but looking back on my 7 years of being out, i don't really remember ever getting infantilised like that. pretty much all i ever got was comments calling me a groomer.

and i think it's in large (hehe) part because i'm fat.

it's way harder for them to infantilise someone who is physically big, possibly bigger than them. also the way fatness is often hypergendered, people tend to automatically assign a certain level of inherent masculinity to me. UwU smol enby or even UwU softboi isn't something that is afforded to fat people, and to other groups too.

a lot of whether you fall into the "child" or "groomer" category seems to just come down to appearance. people who have taken testosterone and are at the point where they are seen as men don't tend to get infantilised. they get framed as dangerous groomers. i've seen more than enough trans men, transmascs & nonbinary people talk about this.

and apparently this can also happen if you haven't medically transitioned and just happen to be fat, because we are also stereotyped as creepy and dangerous. it wouldn't surprise me if this happened to a lot of PoC too, as they're stereotyped as dangerous too, but i can't personally speak to that experience.

all it took is to be fat for me to just skip "child" and level up straight to "groomer".

looking back even further, i was never infantilised for gender transgression, even when i was thinner. even when i thought i was cis or wasn't as openly nonbinary, people would frame me as dangerous. people at my school would call me a common german slur that basically translates to "fighting lesbian".

and if you wanna go all the way back, even as a child when i was pretty gender conforming i was never treated like a child either due to many traumatic experiences. also apparently when you're a very tall child people just ignore your age or something.

but yeah. the whole "trans men and afab nonbinary people only ever get infantilised" isn't actually true for a lot of us.

they infantilise people that they perceive as any kind of feminine. they grab onto that "femininity" and try to "save" them. they think if there's even a slither of femininity left in someone, they're not lost to the "trans cult" yet. this is why they love going after people who had top surgery but aren't on T.

but many of us are perceived as inherently masculine, as the people doing the grooming rather than the kids being groomed, as the worst traitors of womanhood.

antitransmasculinity hits different when you're not thin.

[trans-androgyne]

hey, thank you for having and running this blog. you're doing the equivalent of gods work.

first, i'm sorry for the amounts of jerk anons you have to deal with. you literally articulate yourself very well and clearly, and still, people will find a way to twist it or not take it seriously. it reminds me of me "arguing" with terfs back in 2022 on twitter. (shudders.)

and second, how do you deal with the constant negativity? i have found myself doomscrolling the transandrophobia tag, and, well, to no ones surprise, my mental health is down the gutter. do you have any tips to deal with it? mainly with the transandrophobia in general? it is more than exhausting existing as a (gnc & enby) trans guy atm, and it's really getting to me. the thing is, I wouldn't mind it if it were non-queer bigots, but the fact it's coming from inside the community is devastating. i am more than hurt. this intense hatred for men and masculinity, queer, trans, or not, is incomprehensible to me. it never does anything good. anyone who says "i hate all men and anything masculine" is definitely going in the "yep that's either a radfem or a radfem hatchling" box. i partially understand as to why- i had a fear of men myself when i still identified as a girl, and slipped into the "all men bad. kill" side of the internet for a short while but ONLY because of this rhetoric ("you need to be afraid because there are men outside." , "men and masculinity are inherently predatory or dangerous")- but i got out of it because i saw how fucked it was eventually (thank goodness)- but nothing should ever be an excuse to excessively hate a gender or masculinity this badly. and its mostly gender essentialist bs anyways imo, so i do not understand it at all...it reminds me of people saying men/mascs cant be asexual because it's "in their nature to be sexual"- because testosterone. its hard. i just wish we all could respect each other. you're either "one of the bad bad evil men" or "noooooo not YOU. you're AFAB!! never!! youre a girl/woman in spirit!!" from my personal experience with terfs/radfems/idiots.

anyways, sorry for invading your anon space with this long rant, but i just wanted to leave this and the question. i hope you have a nice day/night, and thank you for reporting on transandrophobia as much as you do. it's sadly very much needed right now.

Thank you so much, this is such a kind ask to receive. To be honest with you: I don’t handle my mental health very well around it </3 It’s weighed on me pretty heavily these last few months especially. The things keeping me running this blog anyway are my passion for the transmasc community and lovely anons like yourself cheering me up. When it comes to trying to manage it, the most important thing for me has been finding people I can vent to about it who will understand. I’m lucky enough to have a wonderful discord server full of awesome trans people who will talk it through with me, and that’s been a life-saver. Staying offline for a bit and trying to engage in person with people who are unlikely to be transandrophobic towards you can be a nice relief. I catch myself doomscrolling constantly too, and it doesn’t feel great. If you need to set some sort of time limit on your phone even just to remind yourself not to do it, that’s helped me before and might help you too.

Having this much hatred levied at me for my identity from my own community lately has been devastating. I completely understand you. I’ve always been vocal about supporting transfems in particular, so it really hurts to see so many turn against me for speaking up. I understand how the queer community got this way, though. Antimasculinism has been an issue in queer and feminist spaces for ages. I think people are starting to notice it more and understand why it sucks and how much it negatively affects trans men and mascs. It feels like a losing battle sometimes with how much cultural feminism — the Men Bad Women Good flavor of pop feminism — has pervaded our communities and often led to very overt radical feminism that people still can’t always recognize because they don’t know anything about TERFs outside of them hating trans women. I believe the culture will start to shift soon such that people are able to recognize sexism and gender essentialism that harms all genders, and I will be doing my part to help that happen.

[seospicybin]

SEOSPICY'S UPCOMING POST.

REWIND PREVIEW.

Seungmin x reader x Hyunjin. (s,a)

Synopsis: As a part of a research team that works on a memory-erasing machine, you work alongside the professor whom you greatly admire and a computer geek who relentlessly flirts with you. But the one that you want is the one that you can't have.

Preview under the cut!

...

Noticing that the meeting has come to a final decision, you stop talking and fix your sitting position. You watch as the board members take votes on whether Seungmin can continue with the test or not and all hands are raised in favor of Seungmin.

"With all members approving the selected test subject, Professor Seungmin is allowed to continue with the procedure that will be held on the agreed upon time and place," the board leader announces.

Even in his triumphant moment, Seungmin remains calm and still, you can't remember the last time he smiled, even out of courtesy. Ha he always been like this? Honestly, you can’t remember.

"The board members will watch closely the process, before and after the test. We also demand follow-ups and thorough datas on every detail of the test," they warn once again even though it's not the first time Seungmin has run the test.

Everyone scatters around once the meeting has finished, you wait outside of the meeting room knowing that Seungmin will likely stay to chat with the other professors. Rina is still here as well, holding her tablet close to her chest and not-so-subtly staring at Hyunjin

"You should ask her out," you mutter at Hyunjin, subtly hinting the subject of the talk with your eyes.

Hyunjin doesn't even look up from his phone when he flat-out rejects the idea, "No, thank you."

"Why not? She's pretty and she's your age," you point out all of the obvious facts why he should be seducing her, not you who's a couple of years older than him and not having a shiny, healthy hair.

Hyunjin lets out a scoff, then shoves his phone into the pocket of his hoodie, "You're prettier and older," he says with a sly smile plastered on his face.

Whether he tries to compliment you or try to offend you, you feel like you need to check if there's something wrong with him. You poke his side with your pen and he yelps in pain.

"What's wrong with you?" He sharply gasps.

"You are what's wrong," you answer, poking him on the other side this time.

He laughs and leans against the wall facing you, slightly slouching so he can be on the same eye level with you. "Dating older women is hot, you know," he coyly remarks.

You give him a repulsed glare at his words, shaking your head as you look away from him.

"And you're hot so dating you would be ticking two boxes at once," he adds with his sly smile growing wider on his angular face.

Besides your actual job, you have to deal with this 5'10" man bursting with youthful charm and testosterone, you wouldn't complain if you get double paychecks for it. You aim his stomach next and poke him with your pen again, hoping a little violence would put some sense into his small head.

"One more test, huh?" Professor Hale says, patting Seungmin's shoulder as they walk out of the meeting room.

It feels like your body is accustomed to getting on your perfect posture whenever Seungmin walks into your radar, you stop moving altogether and stand up straighter.

"I'll see everyone on Friday!" Professor Hale says one last time, he also smiles at you and Hyunjin before turning to leave.

Now that the team has earned the green light, everyone is going to get busier to prepare everything. Seungmin lists the things he wants you to do as he walks back to C building and you jot down everything on your notebook. He stops by the main lab and gets Hyunjin on the job, ordering him to run a diagnostic test on the MNE-Machine, checking for any issues.

It's one of those times when you can see how passionate Seungmin is about his work.

He's the reason why you applied for the job, not only because you can work directly with him but also because you admire him, his brilliance, his work ethic, and most of all, him as a person.

There are so many things you learned from working for him for the last three years and your admiration toward him only grows bigger with time. And out of that admiration, something else grows, something that makes you excited to go to work, makes you happy at the sight of him and wanting to always be close to him.

Sensing that someone is watching him, Seungmin turns around to find you still standing there, "Don't you have things to do?"

You gulp air before asking, "Uhm.. Professor?"

He starts walking with his hands shoved inside his lab coat pockets, "Yes?"

You half jog to keep up with his wide strides, "Professor Hale said one more test and I thought we're only on our fourth test?"

You wait for his answer while quietly admiring his wide shoulders from the back while struggling to keep up with his fast walks.

All of a sudden, he turns on his feet and then he looks at you, the eye contact doesn't last longer than a second until he looks away, "Notify the test subject first and make sure they make the time for the interview tomorrow!" He orders instead of answering your question.

"Will do, Professor," you respond.

You manage to finish a few things before it's time to go home, the rest on the to-do list are meant to be done tomorrow though. As you're about to get your coat, Seungmin walks out of his office and swings his briefcase on his side.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says without looking at you.

"Have a great—" You don't even get to finish your sentence as he disappears into the elevator.

Only a dozen people are working in the C building and there are only five people working directly with Seungmin. Professor Lee who worked together on MNE-Machine with Seungmin is being called to give lectures out of the country and taking his assistant with him, so that leaves you and Hyunjin. The rest of the employees are working maintenance on the lower level of the building, you only meet them when you either enter or leave the building.

"Are you sure you don't want to grab drinks with me?" Hyunjin asks, unlocking his car but not getting in yet.

You toss your bag onto the passenger's seat before getting inside your car. It's actually tempting to say yes, you could use it to blow some steam off to prepare you for the busy days ahead.

But you don't want to give Hyunjin the satisfaction. No, not yet.

"No," you answer with a playful smile.

Hyunjin tosses his backpack inside and comes up to your car, he bends down to look at you through your rolled-down window.

"Come on. It'll be fun," he persuades with a smile that is mischievous and seductive at once. You bet this is how he puts anyone under his spell.

You turn your head at him and smile, "You know what would be fun?"

He tips his head to the side and asks, "What?"

"Me running you over with my car," you jokingly say as you turn on the car engine.

“Ooo… feisty,” Hyunjin hisses then slowly, he steps away from your car.

That's how most of your days usually went, dealing with two men who are the opposite of each other. One gives you not enough attention and the other gives you way too much. One is cold and nonchalant, the other one is warm and attentive.

Sadly, the one that you want is the one that you can't have.

...

Full fic will be posted tomorrow!

[the-trans-man-with-no-plan]

lol you women really wish you could. if any actual biological men pretend like they accept you as a man it’s because they want to sleep with you bc there’s something about being a man we allllll know you will never understand

Okay, okay, normally I just delete these because they're stupid BUT - I'm straight. I do not date or sleep with men. All my friends who are straight, cisgender men are well aware of this fact. And they're not really interested in sleeping with me anyway. Facial hair doesn't really get them going. Calling me a woman implies you also consider trans women "biological men," and I don't think they accept me because they want to sleep with me.

There are absolutely things about being raised as a boy that I will not be able to understand, that much is true. But if you are referring to: - Being raised with emotional suppression. I was raised by a narcissistic, abusive father. Emotional expression was not a thing around him for me or my cisgender brother. - "Trouble" dating. I'm barely 5'5, I would not be considered conventionally attractive. I just happen to respect women, and people in general. Believe are not, a lot of women kind of like when the guys they're into aren't total douchebags who clench their fists every time they walk past someone with a rainbow on their shirt - The common idea many cisgender men have that they are unable to control their rage. I am being pumped full of testosterone. For AMAB people, puberty lasts about 2-5 years. My HRT puberty lasted for a year. I received the hormones at least twice as fast as the majority of cisgender men (oddly enough, I've never met a transwoman who has the rage issue), meaning I was getting much more testosterone at once. At no point did I have trouble controlling my anger, even with severe PTSD. - Anatomy. Who gives a fuck? Seriously. Why do you care if I have a dick or not?

I am a man. I have been socially presenting as male since age 15. I know the expectations, I know the social rules, and I am expected to follow them just as much as any cisgender man is. Yes, there are things I will never understand about being raised as a boy and things I do understand about being raised a girl. That does not take away from the person I am today or the person I have always been inside. To all the trans people reading this, remember this; You are not your body. The consciousness, thoughts, feelings, gender itself, is all in the brain. Your brain knows who you are, your body does not. Your body can never take away from who you are, despite what anyone says.