#ftm anonymous

[incognitopolls]

Anon is wondering because they've seen some trans men say it's validating, and some trans men say it's hurtful.

–

We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

[canisalbus]

Your gay dogs have reached the Revolutionary Girl Utena -level of yuri, where the dogs are yuri so obviously clearly except they aren't.

.

[thatboy4you]

slow puppification of a sub scenario ?!

There's soooo many ways this could goooo....

A dom humiliating their sub for the whines they make

"stop whining like a pathetic little puppy."

A dom humiliating their sub for grinding desperately

"look at your acting like a desperate mutt"

A dom suggesting new accessories

"if you like choking so much maybe you need a collar hm.. that way you'll never forget who you belong to."

"how about a leash, that way mommy/daddy can hold you exactly where you need to be."

"you'd look so cute with ears.. and a tail imagine it wagging for me whenever you need to cum puppy."

Their praises and degrading just getting more and more explicit

"just like a bitch in heat"

"isnt that right? You're just a dumb little puppy."

"what a pathetic mutt drooling over my shoes."

Instructions becoming commands,

"kneels."

"speak."

"stay."

"sit."

"come."

"suck."

"cum."

[sinisterexaggerator]

Can I ask for Cad Bane x FTM reader hcs? SFW and NSFW, no limits. Maybe a fic if you're in the mood? I'm on anon because I'm shy.

Hello, anon! Hopefully, you will like this. I did my best. This is my first try at a ftm reader insert! Feedback, likes, comments, reblogs are all appreciated if you feel they are deserved! I will take correction and advice for THIS FIC ONLY. It's important to listen to the target audience. <3

---

A Good Story

Cad Bane x Trans Male (AFAB) Reader

Summary: You are a bored weapon's merchant on Fondor, a planet located near Devaron; Cad Bane has a date with Bolla Ropal at the Jedi temple and is in the market for something special—but you have the nerve to try to rip him off. Bane has money, and you're in need—surely he won't bat an eye at the high price tag?

Warnings: NSFW / 18+ for double-penetration and finger-fucking. Bane goes in both ways. I also make use of the words cunt and dick in relation to genitalia. There is a mention of the reader wearing a binder.

Word count: 4.5K +

Ao3

God, you were bored.

Fondor was a planet with little to do save for your dead-end job, lonely nights spent nursing bottom shelf brandy in some dingy, hole-in-the-wall cantina, unable to escape the smells of the shipyard. It reeked of tibanna, oil, tar, and rust, the odors having long since taken up residence in the vibrissae of your nose, lingering there, giving you no short reprieve—even after a shower.

Still, that wasn’t even your work. The Clone War was getting closer to your rocky home world with every passing day. It made sense. You lived in the Colonies, situated within the Inner Rim; threats from the Separatists loomed just beyond your backyard, populated with important trade routes.

It appeared Count Dooku, the leader of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, had the idea that Fondor should join his ranks. The Republic now vied for your attention but talks led nowhere—no one wanted to join Dooku willingly.

That’s where you came in.

Well, sort of.

“Good choice,” you praised the buyer of a DL-22 blaster pistol, the man placing the sum of five-hundred credits into your outstretched hand.

“Best to be armed nowadays,” he said dismissively, looking down the barrel of his newly acquired, high-priced toy.

The DL-22 was designed by BlasTech Industries and packed quite a powerful punch. A high-quality focusing crystal had been utilized by the weapon’s manufacturer to increase the damage output of the pistol’s blast bolts. This resulted in a reduction of the gun's stun setting, but most found the exchange to be well worth it.

“Can I interest you in any extra power cells? Carts? It only comes with the one up front.” If you had learned nothing else from this job, it was that your boss demanded you try to upsell every customer who walked in off the street. You resented him for that, but you also liked the extra commission when things worked out.

“Nah, got some back home.” The man was already holstering his purchase, aiming to walk out the door.

“We have a three rotation return policy,” you said, more as an afterthought. The man nodded he understood, then left.

You sighed. You wondered how much longer until your next customer. Sometimes, hours passed, and you would not see a single soul. It wasn’t that you minded, but the time seemed to drag on endlessly. There was only so much you could do on your datapad; scrolling through newsreels after a while became demoralizing.

You had just begun to read an article about Wilhuff Tarkin, the governor of Eriadu, when the door chimed. You found a stopping point at the end of the next paragraph and looked up, a habitual, customer-friendly smile having crept across one side of your face.

Then, it fell clean off.

A Duros strolled into your shop, the echo of his boots filling your ears as he sauntered across the duracrete floor.

That was the word for it, sauntered—he was strolling with what could only be described as a kind of confident detachment, a wide-brimmed hat hiding the fine details of his disposition, though you saw he was sporting the tiniest hint of a snaggle-toothed smirk.

You cleared your throat. “Hello, welcome.”

He said nothing, coming ever closer, causing the skin on the back of your neck to prickle. He seemed familiar, somehow, though you couldn’t quite place it. His short walk ended as he set the pads of all ten of his fingers down flat across the countertop, just to the right of the register—you wondered if he meant to rob you blind.

You allowed your eyes to travel the length of his skeletal frame, taking in his well-worn ensemble; the tightness of the leather; the glint of the metal accoutrements; the creak of the material as he tipped marginally forward, putting all his weight on one leg as he bent his knee, shifting his stance to one that was more casual.

Then, his chin rose. The face that was revealed startled you to the point you gasped. You sucked in a quick inhalation of air, filling your lungs before you refocused, this time on his eyes.

They were two austere, gleaming red jewels inlaid among the bluest scales—severe in appearance, surrounded by scars of varying depth and length.

Fuck; he was handsome. More attractive than he had any right to be. And his mouth—you suddenly couldn’t take your eyes off it, or off the two tapered fangs that peeked out at you from lips that were dry and cracked. But you thought it didn’t matter—you would kiss those lips if he asked you t—

“—In de market fer somethin’ special.” He interrupted your train of thought for another to take its place. His voice was like something you had never heard before, rough while at the same time smooth and sensual; he was as easy on the ears as he was on the eyes, and he had your full attention.

“Oh?” you asked, doing your utmost to stay calm, to come off as nonchalant. “And what might that be?” you inquired, genuinely curious, though hoping he wouldn’t surprise you with a request that was outside your wheelhouse. You realized that even though you did not know his name, you would hate to disappoint whoever this man was.

“Projectile launcher,” he started, pushing off the counter to stand up straight. He was a tall drink of water, enough to quench your thirst, though staring at him seemed to have the opposite effect. You felt as if you had never been this thirsty in your life. “Fer a cortosis shot.”

“Cortosis ore?” You felt the question had been a dumb one on your part, no sooner than you had asked it.

The Duros’ brow twitched, raising upward toward one side. He folded his arms and stared you down with those cold, crimson eyes, wondering what the hell else you thought he might be referencing.

“Problem?”

“What? No. No, we uh—” You released his heady gaze to glance back down at your datapad with some reluctance. “We have several weapons in stock that might suit your needs.”

You pretended to sort through your inventory, but you had just begun a search for Duros—ones that might be in some form of media, or on the news.

“Yeah? Like what.”

Why was it suddenly hard to swallow? Why did you feel so warm? You felt the blood rushing to your face, unable to curtail the onset of what was presumably anxiety, your finger adeptly scrolling through the holofeed as fast as the device permitted.

“Depends on what you’re after—something compact, something a little flashier—” Your eyes widened as you caught sight of a report some few days back; this Duros had been the one involved in a break-in at the Jedi temple. An APB had been put out for his capture—Cad Bane.

He was considered to be armed and dangerous. That much was obvious. But why was he here now?

“Somethin’ good ‘nough te disarm a Jedi,” came his reply. You looked back up and returned your datapad to the counter. His gaze was measured, calculating.

“Find anythin’ interestin’ on dhere?” the bounty hunter growled, eyeing you with evident suspicion. You panicked, pressing a button alongside the glowing screen so that it would blank out and go dark.

“Many ... something's,” you said awkwardly. You may have been scared shitless, but you weren’t stupid. Not entirely. Stupid enough to use this situation to your advantage, though, or at least stupid enough to try.

“A-a Jedi?” you inquired, trying to keep the fear from your voice, but ultimately changing the subject. You hoped against all odds he hadn’t seen what you had last been looking at.

“What Ah said,” he snapped. “Show me.”

“Right! Sure!”

You scampered to the back, looking amongst the shelves for the blaster you knew you had in stock. You used this moment not only to find something that might please the Duros, but also to catch your breath—your heart was pounding as you came to terms with who was waiting for you, yet you knew the man had money. Lots of it.

“Cad fucking Bane,” you whispered to no one in particular, staring blankly at a row of pistols, your vision nearly blurring as you practically disassociated—unable to believe that the galaxy’s most notorious hired gun had just waltzed into your meager storefront, and on a day you happened to be working.

“What?” came a low note in your ear.

You overtly jumped, turning around, terror-stricken and at a loss for words.

The bastard was right behind you! How had he done that? How did you not even hear him approach?!

“Shit, man! Don’t—don’t karking do that!” you said without thinking. The Duros narrowed his eyes, withdrawing a toothpick he had on his person somewhere, retrieving it from out the corner pocket of his coat.

“Do what,” he asked flatly.

“Sneak up on me!” you panted, gasping for air.

“Wastin’ my time,” he rasped, placing the scrap of wood between his teeth. It was plain as daylight he was losing his patience, yet you had only exchanged a few scant words.

“OK, look. I’m sorry—it’s—it’s not every day Cad Bane walks into my shop.”

“Well, dhen teday’s yer lucky day, innit?” he asked, sarcasm lacing his tone, the Duros speaking from around the inserted toothpick resting gingerly betwixt his fangs.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” You forced yourself to calm by thinking one thought only—if he wanted you dead or to hurt you, he already would have.

“Won’t ask again—show me,” he commanded.

You walked toward the back row of shelves without another word; the Duros followed. You stretched out your arms, gathering what you had been after—a top of the line slugthrower, a weapon that used kinetic energy to fire solid objects, metal objects—you hoped it was what the man was looking for.

You turned around and presented it to him; Bane lifted it straight out of your hands. He turned it this way and that, giving it a thorough examination, extending it as if meaning to take a shot. He pulled the trigger, though it wasn’t loaded, then shifted his gaze toward yours—you had been staring. “How much?”

Now was your chance—would you dare try to coax a little more out of him than the asking price? Maybe money was no object to a person of his wealth and status. It was no secret Bane worked for the highest bidder. Everyone knew his was the highest price tag and that he was capable of any job should you pay him his just dues.

You idly wondered who had paid him to break into the temple back on Coruscant…

“Ye slow?” Bane snarled, flashing his teeth. You had zoned out again, making yourself look more or less like an idiot three times now.

“Two thousand,” you shot back. This particular model was only worth twelve hundred.

The Duros gawked at you, arched a brow, then outright laughed a dry honk of a laugh. “HA! Ye must be dumber dhan kriff te think Ah’m payin dhat.”

“Take it or leave it,” you bravely replied, although you wished you hadn’t for what came next.

The hunter’s eyes narrowed for the second time within your presence. He shoved the shotgun back into your arms, forcing you to stumble backward. He removed the toothpick he had been gnawing on to place it against the underside of your chin. Your own eyes widened as you swallowed down your excess spit.

“Ye tryin’ te pull one over on me, son?” Bane asked, his voice riddled with animosity, betraying his lack of self-restraint.

“I—what? N-no—” you managed, hardly able to look at him directly.

Still, this sudden closeness, the smell of the Duros—it was intoxicating. Despite his piss-poor attitude, his leering was doing things to you. Things you could not explain except that it was your animal brain enlivening, as were your loins, much to your embarrassment.

Then, the Duros smiled. It was a shit-eating, nefarious sort of smile. A smile that made your blood run cold and your groin catch fire. “Dhat fear Ah smell, er somethin’ else?”

Your cheeks burned, though you would recover, finding your obstinance somewhere deep down inside you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, that’s the asking price,” you lied, the pounding of your heart thrumming in your ears.

“Ah know what dhis shit’s werth, and it ain’t dhat,” Bane hissed, pushing the sharp point of his toothpick more succinctly against you, the scars and lines that were etched into the flat of his face close enough to touch, close enough to kiss.

“Make ye a deal, since Ah know ye wanna fuck me,” Bane taunted savagely.

“W-what?!” you asked surprised, thrown off by his candidness. Was he a mind reader? Could he sense your desperation?

What you were not privy to was that Bane was in a rare, good mood, having just stolen a holocron out from under the noses of half a dozen Jedi, making out with a new ship and a payout that was triple. Normally, he might just shoot you for trying to pull a fast one, but there was something about you that intrigued him—maybe it was the brazen way in which you had tried to overcharge him. It was something he might do, after all.

“Pay ye what it’s werth, and Ah’ll give ye somethin’ te tell yer friends,” Bane snickered. “If ye got any,” he nastily teased, adding insult to injury.

“I … I have friends,” you defended, giving him a once over. You felt entirely too hot, your body having betrayed you for wanting this horrible, cutthroat man.

“Dhat mean we have ourselves a deal?” His grin returned, toothy and sadistic.

“I’ll drop it to twelve … but only if you can make me cum.”

Were you crazy? Had you actually gone temporarily insane?

Not only did the Duros’ rostrum crinkle in a twisted sort of delight, but the corners of his horizontal, ovate eyes did as well, his malicious smirk reaching to the tops of his gaunt cheeks.

“Ye got guts, Ah’ll give ye dhat—time te rearrange ‘em,” he stated cattily, flicking his chewed-up toothpick onto the floor.

You almost laughed, but thought it the wrong choice, not that you had much time to think through things to begin with, Bane on you faster than a womp rat up a drainpipe now that you had given your express consent.

The Duros snatched the slugthrower back out of your hands, tossing it down to join his toothpick on the ground, the shotgun landing with a clatter as he grasped you by the collar of your shirt, shoving you back against the row of shelves behind you.

“Turn around and spread ‘em,” he advised.

“Wait! That’s—that’s not exactly what I’m into,” you dared, taking a deep breath.

The hunter canted his head like an inquisitive took’, looking at you like you had just grown a second head yourself. Yet, he did not take yours clean off. Instead, he posed a question.

“Ye exspectin’ Ah be gentle?”

“No, just—go easy.”

“Easy …”

Bane hummed a sound, as if rolling over what you had said in his mind. Then, he closed the gap between you, pressing himself up against your aching loins; you could feel the outline of the Duros through his distressed jeans. It was … unusual, to say the least.

“Have it yer way.”

Bane moved toward the button at the top of your pants, dexterous fingers undoing the clasp within seconds. You found yourself holding your breath as one large hand slipped between the folds of your boxers, trying not to dwell on what he might think once he realized—

“Hold on!” you interjected, the Duros’ creeping digits stopping just below your belt line. He bared his teeth in annoyance, but it couldn’t be helped. You had one more thing to tell him.

“Tryin’ my patienccce,” Bane sizzed, his free hand wandering up to clutch your throat, holding your head steady as he gazed penetratingly into your eyes.

“Just thought maybe you should know that I—”

“Cahnnit,” the hunter snapped, the Duros’ sizeable fingers once more taking to movement as he pressed one between the folds of your labia. “Already know,” he informed you in a matter-of-fact tone. “Think Ah ain’t never karked a man with a cunt before?”

Bane snorted out a laugh as your breath caught in your throat, the Duros guiding his index finger to gently fondle the growth between your legs, “dhis ain’t my ferst rodeo, kid, now try te relax before ye piss me off.”

You nodded, unable to peel your eyes away from his, the brim of his hat steeping you both in shadow as you did the unthinkable, pushing up off your toes in an attempt to kiss him.

The hunter pushed you back with the point of a finger, then dipped down low at the same time he dipped inside you, gathering a measure of your slick. His thumb worked your dick in concentric circles as one large, elongated forefinger gave you something to mull over, the Duros leaving you gasping for air at the thought he hadn’t even stuck his cock inside you yet.

“Feel good?” he asked, as if he cared, as if might actually be concerned for how you were feeling. Whether or not it was an act wasn’t the point, just glad enough that he had taken the time to ask.

“Yes,” you breathed, your mouth so close to his, yet he had still refused to kiss you. It was almost unbearable, Bane immersing his finger into your tight hole to his third knuckle, curling it at just the right slant to apply the perfect amount of pressure against your anterior walls.

“Now… why don’t ye be a good boy and turn around fer me,” he coerced, though not so demanding as last time. His good boy sent your mind reeling; you were already lost to him, unable to move, unable to speak, riding the high that was Bane finger-fucking you in the back of your workplace—shit—if anyone walked in…

You tried to obey him, but your body was not cooperating by no fault of your own. You had not felt this good in ages, the intense pleasure you were experiencing outweighing the frightening prospect of being spied having relations by your immediate supervisor or any other customer.

“Need a lil’ help, do ye?” Bane asked, the wet squelch of his finger vacating your insides causing you to heavily blush. Though incapable of speech, you were past the point of caring, letting the Duros ultimately have his way with you against your better judgment. Maybe you were naive for thinking he wouldn’t hurt you, but things seemed to now be fully out of your control, allowing your unconventional lover to rotate your human form however he so wished.

You felt your pants slide down towards your thighs; your boxers were next, falling past the crack of your ass, Bane once more pressing himself firmly against you as you heard a shuck, a rattle of metal, and the peeling of what sounded like thermoguard being pried apart by its seams.

“Which hole ye want it in?” Bane thought to ask, perhaps assuming he was being considerate. Before you could answer him in any way, shape or form, he decided for you. “Both,” he chortled.

“What do you—” you began, but were quickly silenced, something slick and slimy finding its way up your slit while another something knocked on your back door, though the Duros was kind to you in that its introduction was gradual, his cock’s tapered tip slim and pliable, enabling it to slip inside your ass in tiny increments.

You realized his species must self-lubricate; you thanked the Whills. Even though it felt beyond compare, you knew you would be sore by this time tomorrow.

“Look how good ye take it,” Bane lauded, though you could not tell if he was being sincere. You were left to seethe through your teeth, hissing tiny breaths, Bane only moving insofar as you could stand. He seemed to have a second sense for this, though the other of his cocks pushed up inside you; they were obviously stacked, these dual phalli, ribbed in all the right ways; pressing into you at all the right angles.

“Fuck,” you exclaimed, panting like a man who had just run a marathon, moans of pleasure escaping your throat as a feeling of ecstasy mixed with a good kind of pain traveled its way down your spine, spreading outward from its origin point at the base of your skull.

“If ye insist,” Bane drawled, his bony hips thrusting themselves forward to where you belted out a sound that pleased him, Bane laughing a vicious little laugh as he reached around you, taking up the sizable nub that rested between your thighs.

“Louder,” he instructed, wanting to hear you sing, wanting to feel you writhe under him as he fucked you alongside an inordinate amount of deadly weaponry.

You pressed your hands flat along the shelves in front of you, digging your fingers into the wood. You would leave deep rents by the end of your time here, grasping for purchase as he began to rail you harder.

You moaned again, louder as he deemed it necessary. “Bane,” you praised, holding on for dear life as he gave you a good old-fashioned reach around while doubly penetrating you from behind. The overwhelming number of sensations you were feeling had your brain short-circuiting, the Duros swaying you toward an almost gentle release.

You reached a peak, biting down against your own hand, your dull, human teeth leaving their imprint across your flesh, damp with sweat, proof of pleasure rendered.

“Ain’t gettin’ off so easy after all,” Bane crooned spitefully in your ear. You momentarily wondered if he was referring to your orgasm, until you understood—he didn’t plan on stopping just because you came. He kept on rocking into you, over and over, simultaneously hitting your G-spot while stimulating the nerves in your anus, causing you to cum a second time.

Your body quaked beneath him, his thin hips enough to bruise you, to tenderize the meat of your rump as he gripped either side of your haunches, squeezing tight—you were glad he had never once groped you through your binder.

You weren’t entirely sure why you had agreed to this—especially without protection—but here you were, and you realized you had no desire to stop it from happening.

“Want it,” you croaked. “All of it.”

Bane obliged, discharging a thick, gelid substance into your cunt, followed by another round coating every inch of your inner walls. He did not hold back as was your preference, things only once more becoming impersonal when he raised up off your back, his rail-thin chest having been resting upon you, the rapid fluttering of his heart felt through the sparse fabric of your shirt.

It was a unique feeling, causing you to shiver reflexively, observing that his cocks weren’t by any means synchronized in their release. You only now began to wonder about his anatomy; what purpose it served to have two for a Duros, though you did not have one complaint regardless, and he had not questioned you about yours.

Bane finished himself off, then withdrew from you with a resounding, pressurized suck, every rib and crest felt by your sensitive loins on his way out.

“Hope ye got a ‘fresher ‘round here,” he quipped.

---

Bane had tucked himself away and waited for you, but you had the inkling he wouldn’t have stuck around had he not needed you. In fact, he didn’t—he could have easily walked out of there with the shotgun in tow, but he seemed to be a man of his word, extending an arm to offer you up his credit stick.

“Ye run it fer twelve, like we agreed.”

You nodded; kept quiet. You processed his payment, noting that the name that popped up on your screen was not his own.

“Werhl Tahoon?” you asked, quirking a brow.

“Ah really gotta explain dhat te ye?” he asked, visibly annoyed.

Of course, he didn’t. He was a wanted man, a criminal. He had assumed names, false identities … who knew how many bank accounts he had, and on which planets. All that mattered was that his money was good, the twelve hundred credits being withdrawn and added to your bosses' coffer.

“Sounds like the name of some nerfpoke from a cheesy holo—”

His glare shut you up; you handed him his card, having previously retrieved the slugthrower from off the floor on your way back out. You gazed at his hand as he plucked it from yours, thinking about the way those lithe fingers had been inside you, how you had felt every knuckle, how you would dream for years to come about this Duros, though he would most likely forget about you as soon as he departed from your shop.

You flinched as he once more snatched you by your collar like before, those same, agile fingers tightening around the cloth as he reeled you in, bringing you within mere centimeters of his face.

“Be in yer best interest naht te try and rip people off—next time, ye may just get pumped fulla lasers rather dhan gettin’ plugged.”

He kissed you roughly on the mouth; you felt the scrape of a tooth, its sharp point grazing your skin. It was more than you could have ever hoped for.

Then, he released you; he left you gasping for air. He seemed to have that effect on you. The idea that he was leaving was suddenly too much; unthinkable, even as he strapped the slugthrower across his back and tipped his brim.

Like an idiot, you called out to him as he made his way, taking him in one last time—the way his duster moved fluidly around him, the way his hat enshrouded him.

“Where are you going?” you asked, as if a jilted lover, as if you meant something, as if he might have the decency to tell you anything about his plans or about himself.

He turned on the heel of his boot, one arm lifting as his hand dug into the confines of his coat. He withdrew an object—cube-shaped, many-sided, and covered in intricate designs. You didn’t know what it was, but you thought it must be rare and beautiful, like him, and blue to boot.

In realty, it was a stolen Jedi holocron, filled with the names of all the galaxy’s up-and-coming Force-users, the future of the Jedi Order—and he had been paid to nick it from the Archives by one Darth Sidious.

Bane smirked as he deigned to answer to the likes of you.

“Devaron—got a Jedi te catch,” he snickered.  

Devaron … it was a planet not too far from here, within the Colonies, bordering your sector.

You thought to comment, but then he was gone, leaving behind what he had promised—a good story to tell your friends. God, what you wouldn’t give to go with him, out on some grand adventure—an almost childish fantasy you would harbor in your heart forever, much like the man named Bane.

… What a shame.

[bratty-catboy]

(I hope this is alright! I rarely send anons like this but you're just so cute~)

Oh how sweet it would be, to be the pretty trans girl stalker who gets to force her cock in that needy, pathetic boypussy. You're such an obvious, stupid fucking toy I wouldn't even have to get physical with you, would I? You're so fucking eager for it all I'd have to do is follow you around a little, call you handsome, pin you to an empty alley wall and maybe you'd shudder and cry a little but that hole would open up so easy for fat girlcock, all that whining may as well be foreplay for you, huh? You gonna sob when I hilt it inside you too fast, too? Gonna play pretend and say it's too big, just so I'll forcefuck you all the way down to the base? I bet you'd squeeze me hard and cum on my dick before I was even halfway done, too. You're probably rubbing that slut cunt right now thinking about it, aren't you Silas? Can't help but jerk off to the big scary girl pinning you down and jerking off with that sexy fucking body. You gonna keep quiet while I use you like the cumdump you are, or are you gonna scream for help like a hot public slut? All it's gonna do is gather an audience to cheer me on when I dump my fuckin load in that hole. Keep it up, pretty boy, warm up that fucktoy holy for me. It'll be the only chance you get before I rape you wet on me. <3

I am genuinely speechless and soaking wet

(´ ๑ Δ ๑ `;)

You’re right,, I couldn’t help but jerk off while I read your message over and over as masturbation material before I ever posted it. I couldn’t help but fuck myself with a toy imagining how you would feel inside me as you claimed my boycunt and womb with your fat, eager girldick while I read it again to type up a reply

[1-upboys]

please bring back parrotfish!!!

I will 💚 gimme some time until my exams are over 😉

[swimminginbones]

get in my fucking asks NOW! I may be a sub- but I'm demanding you. I need some horny shit

[bugboy-haven]

Hiiii um just wondering may I receive head pats and praise with a teaspoon of degrading : 3🐶🐶

Oh poor little puppy in need of some attention? I'm so proud of you for using your big boy words, but why don't we bark next time, yea? Dumb little dogs like you don't speak, you know. Sit at my feet and bark, maybe rub your face on my hand, like a good dog and I promise I'll pet your pretty little head.

[mouthwashingconfessionsblog]

Did curlys peepee survive the crash or did it like burn off? Opinions please

I’ve always wondered this but never got an answer, so my conclusion is that he never had one.

[bratty-catboy]

I saw from somewhere else that u wanted to volunteer your boy pussy to transfems w big cocks 💋to breed your hole

though i appreciate various sizes i can definitely be a bit of a size king

something about a thick cock stretching me open farther and farther, forcing my boycunt to make it fit is just so intoxicatingly lust inducing

the need to be bred by big dicked transfems grows every day 😔

[imhavinganotherbaby]

In labor!!

I'm 38 weeks + 6 days pregnant and I'm in labor!!

I was having mild contractions last night and I was able to sleep through them, but I woke up and they're much stronger now, and coming a lot closer together-- fifteen minutes apart!

I'm going to be having my s-sooooo-ohhhhh ohhh mmmmmmmmmnnghghh... >_<;;;

[swimminginbones]

I am very pent up at work atm, so I would very much like to have you under my desk wrapping your tongue around cock. Maybe you could be leashed so that I can just pull the leash to make you stay in place as I cum down your throat~

And after work maybe I could pin you down to the mattress, nice and firm, since I'm a bear, and use your boycunt until we're both exhausted. ;3

I didn't squeak when you said you'd pull on my leash while you cum down my throat- I didn't clench when you said you'd use my boycunt until we're both exhausted- no I didn't

[incognitopolls]

Anon is nonbinary and considers some forms of dressing as their assigned gender to be drag. They're curious if binary trans people have the same experience.

–

We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

[pupofwings]

I'm sitting here imagining just casually watching a movie together with you letting you lay your head in my lap. Then, without even looking, reaching straight into your underwear and immediately getting you as wet as possible. Barely reacting or moving as your whine and squirm in my lap, the only indicator being that you feel me getting hard beneath your face. I slowly strip you more and more, letting you become a wet begging mess for me before finally letting my girlcock out and railing you until I fill you with cum. All the while still watching the movie ;3

- 🌬️ anon

I'm so sorry for not responding quicklyyyy!!!everytime I read any asks you send me it takes ages to reply bc you make my words disappear ya fuckin' magician.

Idk if I can actually respond to this in a detailed way, as all my brain is saying is "PLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLS".

I need your girlcock in me, for the love of all things unholy. <3

(Also, just to add, I wanna know what movie we'd be watching)

[tallyhallicsanonymous]

all of the tallys are so transition goals (FtM)

.

[loversbruises]

everytime someone calls a trans man a twink an angel dies bc it kills itself because its so tired of hearing that nonsense

i feel like it's such a backhanded compliment — you're JUST masculine enough to be considered a "feminine" kind of man

it's giving fat people give good hugs — different yet so similar...

anyways LET TRANS MEN BE HAIRY WEIRD FREAKS!!!! (they can be fem too ofc! but ppl pushing it onto anyone is fucking WEIRD.)

- random anon who probably won't send again

Tbf, I don’t really post myself so they have no idea. They couldn’t tell if I was a twink or not. I don’t take offence because of that but I can definitely see how some guys can. A lot of people say it from a place of unaddressed transphobia.🔬 anon meant no harm by it at the end of the day. It wasn’t backhanded just came from an assumption instead.

I do stand by that though! IM A WEIRD LITTLE HAIRY FREAK! No twink here >:)

Thank you for coming by anon <3