#as an afab person: it is EXHAUSTING to feel pressured to keep up the ~mean tough person who takes no guff and delivers hard truths!!!~ armor

[silentstep]

Why do you dislike the idea of Wen Qing being the top of a ChengQing relationship out of curiosity?

Short answer is that if it wasn't such an overwhelming majority of portrayals, I wouldn't!

slightly longer answer is that the idea that ~all het pairings have to have femdom in order to be acceptably progressive~ cuts off women from being portrayed as fully realized characters. It's a lack of willingness to explore their interiority and to allow them access to the full spectrum of humanity. Male characters are allowed to be messy. Male characters are allowed to pine and fall desperately in love and harbor fears that it's unrequited. Male characters are allowed to feel insecure and uncertain. Male characters are allowed to be loved despite all their flaws and all their mistakes and all their blind spots. Male characters are allowed to change and grow and be forgiven. Female characters have to be perfect angel goddesses who are given out to male characters as rewards to be worshipped. Let female characters down off their pedestals for once, I am begging.

*long sigh*  It’s just like… nowadays we express attraction/affection towards a female character by going WOW STEP ON ME QUEEN!!! and towards a male character by going OH THE THINGS I WANT TO DO TO HIM… >:)  HE’S SO PATHETIC AND WET

and it’s because we don’t want to be sexist and/or degrading!  I absolutely get that!  but when we’re actually writing longform narrative about specific characters, I want to be able to explore the character of the individual and the relationship, instead of just having those two sentiments writ large.  I don’t want to read about generic Character A/Character B.

and like, again, this is a problem I have with the trend, not with any individual fic. I've read and enjoyed individual fics where she's the dominant one who takes Jiang Cheng apart and makes him beg for it. But why is it all I can find? Why is she slotted into the pigeonhole of "Wei Wuxian's mean lesbian bestie, whose own life never gets any focus" in the background of every other fic? Why does she never get teased by her modern AU friends?  When does she get to be impulsive and silly?  Why does she always have to be “too smart” to get involved in shenanigans?  Why does she never get to let her guard down? When does she get to feel safe enough to relax her prickles and expose her vulnerable underbelly? Why does she never get to have vulnerabilities at all? Why does she never get to be soft, why does she never get to be sweet, why does she never get to rest and be taken care of?  Why does she always have to have everything together?  Why does she never get to appreciate or be grateful for someone else's good points, someone else's strength? Why does she have to be good at literally everything, instead of ever getting to let someone else compensate for the things she's not good at? She's lost so much, just as much as any male character in the series; why does she never get to cry and mourn and be held and comforted? Why does she always, always have to be the strong one? When does she get to put that burden down? Why is her canonical moral ambiguity never given space, when Jiang Cheng's is always portrayed as an obstacle between them? Why do her canonical wrongdoings never require forgiveness or atonement? Why doesn't she ever get portrayed as feeling guilty for the atrocities she stood by and let happen— that she outright enabled? Why does she never get to be a person?

tl;dr: every single time the male character gets to be a skrunkly meowmeow, his female love interest should also get the same treatment, dammit.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere coworker (part 11)

Tw: afab reader, this chapter is just some fluff and exhibiting a softer side of this problem man

Masterlists, part 1, part 12

All eight of you ordered the steak. Therefore, eight identical dishes were presented in front of everyone.

When it arrived, Cyprus spent no time cutting his slab into smaller pieces while chatting amicably with his friends. You wonder what for, because he usually eats larger chunks as he has a bigger mouth.

You began eating your fries and vegetable sides first, not wanting to tackle the meat. You're too mentally exhausted to work on it.

But before you could pick up your next fry, Cyprus swapped plates with you and you felt a sense of deja vu wash over. The meat was perfectly cubed to your bite size.

"Damn it, you ate most of my fries." He mumbled, stabbing the steak with his fork and slicing through it with his knife.

Your brain was on automatic, so you apologized and immediately transferred some of your chips over to his. Not realizing that you never asked him to cut the beef up for you and this technically wasn't your plate that you ate out of.

You're just too tired. Too tired to notice that he said, "Thanks, princess." As he pecked you on the temple and stroked you on the head.

Too tired to realize that you weren't acting mean towards Cyprus, proving his friends' point about how you're wonderful for him and you're not someone Cyprus should dump.

Neither of them mind that you were suddenly deathly quiet. As Cyprus had explained to them earlier that you tend to shut down after having too much social interaction for the day. They looked at Cyprus as if he grew two heads when he mentioned about your "social battery", because they considered that term as some sort of internet nonsense and your boyfriend is the last person they expect to unironically use it. Initially, it was embarrassing for Cyprus, but eventually he explained it enough for everyone to understand.

The women gush over how romantic it was that Cyprus cuts your steak up for you without hesitation or much thought. It's so natural for him to treat you like royalty. In turn, pressuring the men to do that for their girlfriends too.

The dinner went by uneventfully. Cyprus brought you back home earlier and ate the rest of your leftovers because you didn't feel like eating it anymore.

You couldn't really remember what else happened, nothing much must have taken place between the ride home and the time where you found yourself snuggling into his chest as you dozed off.

__

"Wake up."

You groggily grumbled, flinching when Cyprus blew air into your ear. You tried pushing him away, but he simply chuckled and groped all over your body.

"Good morning to you too, beautiful. Now, get up. We're going on a date." He whispered, learning not to overwhelm you this early in the morning. The last time he spoke in a voice too loud and upbeat at the crack of dawn, you burst into tears.

You whined, saying it's too early and it's a Saturday, you want to sleep in. Frowning, you wished Cyprus's energy levels matched yours, he would have made a much better boyfriend then.

"I want to smoke."

You told him to go ahead, because you want to sleep.

"I want to fuck you stupid."

You picked your head up and tiredly opened an eye. You told him no way, but you fell into his trap instead. He encased your lips in a passionate kiss, he must have just woken up too as it was sloppier than usual. But it was enjoyable nonetheless as you knew he had plenty of practice before you.

His large hands rubbed all over your body, snaking them under your (Cyprus's) oversized T-shirt and under the band of your underwear.

He pulled away when your thrashing began to get out of hand, signalling that you're running out of breath. But he didn't retract his hands this time, instead choosing to hold you close to him.

You panted and struggled to keep your heartbeat below the maximum while he hugs you as if you're his beloved stuffed toy.

"I want to get to know you more..." He murmured. There was a sense of softness and yearning in his purr, his fingers got to work soothingly carding your hair.

You said he knew everything there is to know about you. And he deems everything else as a side effect of your internet addiction.

"You never really talked about your friends." He drawled.

You remained silent, waiting to see where this conversation goes.

"I'm starting to think you don't have any." He sniffed your hair. "God, you smell good."

You said you do have friends, Cyprus is stealing you away from them. You pulled away from his hold, which was surprisingly lax and rolled to the end of the bed, furthest away from Cyprus.

"Oh yeah?" He propped his head up by an elbow while lying on his side, staring at you as the singular ray of sunshine coming from a gap between his curtains illuminated his face. You would never admit that he's extremely handsome without his glasses.

"Why don't you get texts and calls from them, then? I've been waiting to pick one up and tell them that you're busy with me." A grin made its way to his lips, fantasizing about how your hypothetical friends would freak out over the news of you having a boyfriend. Cyprus just likes letting the world know that you're his pretty girl.

You said that they have a life and they couldn't check up on you all the time. He narrowed his eyes at you.

"Really? Not even a "Look what I found" text? Not even a "This reminded me of you"?" His free hand found its way to your hips, tenderly caressing it up and down. "You're such a loser." He teased with a carefree smile on his attractive face.

You gulped, not knowing what to say. Cyprus gets calls from his friends regularly and actually cares about him. They want him around just because they love him as family.

You? Usually your friends (actually, colleagues) contact you if they want something out of you or to brag about their life when they couldn't find anyone else to be their emotional sponge or for some political reason.

His words made you reflect on your life. You don't think you have anyone you trust to help you out when times get tough in this city. Ironically, Cyprus would have been the first person you would call to get you out of trouble, because you have a strong belief that he would help you without hesitation no matter how much you think that he's an asshole.

You sunk your head deeper into his pillow, can't think of anything else to say to him without admitting you're more of a loser than you thought.

You wished you had your phone right now to pacify you and distract yourself from confronting the reality that your life isn't that great.

You saw Cyprus's eyebrows raise and knitted itself in concern. He scooted closer to you and cupped your cheeks.

"Did I reopen a wound? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel like crap. Don't cry, doll. Come here." He opened his arms and invited you in an embrace.

Don't cry? You were confused why he said that until you began to sniffle and the tickle of your tears was registered in your mind.

Embarrassed, you buried your head in his chest to hide your teary mess of a face from him. Cyprus wrapped his arms around you tightly, cooing about how it's okay and he loves you.

"I took a joke too far, I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to come off as a judgmental asshole." He mumbled in your hair before kissing you on the crown of your head.

You progressed to pathetic sobs, the reality that you don't have anyone is dawning on you. And it's horrifying to accept.

You never knew what reaction you would get from him whenever you cried. Most of the time, he would brush it off as an insignificant, silly little tantrum. Sometimes he would drop everything just to comfort you, like right now. Perhaps he could feel that he actually hurt you a lot.

He slowly got up, bringing you up with him. Cyprus then rose to his full height, carrying you with an arm supporting your rear and your legs wrapping around his torso. You clung onto him, fearing that he might drop you and not wanting him to see you still weeping and vulnerable.

"Let's get ready for our date." He gently bounced you up and down, patting your back while he walked out of the bedroom. Of course, not before retrieving his glasses from the nightstand.

You sighed and sagged, there is no way you could worm out of this. So you asked him where he was planning on taking you.

"There's this farmer's market I've wanted to go to for a while now. I think you're going to love it there. I know I will, since you're going to be with me." He opened the door to the bathroom. Cyprus gently sets you down on the cold tiles, making you frown in discomfort.

He smiled at you, his bed head making him look less well kept than usual. It's charming in its own right.

"You can make hell seem like heaven by just being there." He ruffled your already messy hair. "You're so fun to be with, you know that?"

He bent down and pecked you on the lips, hushing you when a gush of tears started flowing again. Cyprus took the time to wipe them off with his thumbs.

"Go on, get ready. I'll be preparing breakfast for the both of us and I'll come back in ten minutes to check up on you."

You nodded, sniffling and wiping your face with your hand.

Satisfied, he kissed you on the forehead. "Crybaby."

He pulled away, only to dive back in to give you another kiss on the lips. "But you're my crybaby. Remember that."

He laughed when you tried hitting him and missed.

[knchins]

Beloved - Gojo S.

Summary: After long back-to-back away missions, you return home and into the embrace of your loving husband Gojo Satoru.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Wife!Reader

Reader Type: AFAB - she/her

Rating: E+

Request: Anon

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Established relationship, soft service dom Gojo, comfort (no hurt), full body massage, non-penetrative sex toys, begging, multiple orgasms, praise, mating press (no mentions of breeding), vaginal sex, overstimulation, unsafe sex, cream pie, sweet aftercare, domestic fluff

Exhaustion didn’t even begin to describe how thoroughly worn out you were. Back-to-back missions on what seemed to be opposite sides of the country, the recent influx of special grade curses had you busier than ever. It had you thinking more and more like your old classmate Nanami Kento, and you found yourself saying "Work is shit" more often than you'd like to admit. 

The only things that kept you going were the late-night calls from your husband, the sweet check-ins, and gentle orders for you to take care of yourself while you were apart. The only thing to keep you satisfied with the distance was the small toy you traveled with and the videos he'd often send at fucking his own first with your name hanging off his lips. 

Finally, finally, it was time for you to return. Tears seemed to flood your waterline as the tiredness of working so much overtime in one week was starting to weigh down on you more the closer you got to your front door. 

You felt almost on edge from the day's worth of travel by train, the crying baby that had been in the same rail car had made it impossible for you to sleep. Frustration with the world had long since set in and you were ready to crawl into your nice warm bed and wait for your partner to come home from his own mission. The thrill of seeing him again almost outweighed the fatigue that was tugging on your eyelids but not quite. 

You were surprised to find that the door was already unlocked. Immediately going on high alert, you slowly opened the door only to find /him/ sitting there on the couch watching a movie with the laziest expression on his face. 

Gojo Satoru was the strongest sorcerer in the world. Inconceivably powerful yet somehow incredibly weak for one person and one person only: you. He knew the moment he laid his pretty blues on you that you'd be his. That he'd sweep you off your feet and make you his wife. Your strength and beauty were equally captivating as you found his charm just as irresistible. 

"Satoru?" You probed and he could tell just how weary you were simply by the tone of your voice. "I thought you had a mission today?" 

He shrugged, nonchalant despite the way his eyes were roaming over your ragged form. The comfortable travel outfit you had chosen wasn't exactly fashionable or flattering, but that didn't mean much to Gojo. He somehow found you more alluring when you were like this rather than all dolled up. 

"I finished early." He replied, failing to mention that he had bailed on a meeting with the elders for that afternoon. He had known how long this recent run of missions had been for you, in fact, he had managed to make sure that you'd have the next few days off to rest.

He planned to do everything in his power to get you feeling one hundred percent again. He stood up from the bed, stretching before taking your suitcase and setting it to the side. "Go to the bedroom and lay down." He said in a tone that wasn't demanding, but rather soft and heartfelt. 

For a moment you thought he was just going to let you sleep. Maybe he knew that pestering you right now wouldn't be the best, as you were likely to have a full-blown meltdown. You gave him a nod and went into your shared bedroom, slowly shedding your clothes and throwing them into the dirty hamper before going into the bathroom to take a quick warm shower. 

You couldn't hear what your faithful husband was up to while you were under the stream of water, letting the pressure of the showerhead relieve some of the tension in your shoulders and upper back. 

Gojo was lighting candles around the bedroom, drawing the curtains so that it was completely dark except for the candlelight. You hadn't noticed but the bed had been carefully made with your favorite set of bedsheets, the really soft ones that always had you feel extra cozy. 

You finished your quick shower, already feeling better now that you've had time to yourself in your own living space. As you began to dry off, you could hear the faint shuffling in the bedroom. Knowing it was your husband, you wondered what he was possibly up to. 

The short time of peace and quiet had driven a little more energy into you, and you found yourself yearning for Satoru even though not fifteen minutes ago all you wanted was to be left alone. The carnal desire to be held was growing ever-present in the back of your mind. 

Gojo was a doting husband, even if he could at times be an asshole. He was an absolute jerk when he wanted to be, sometimes saying insensitive things that would affect your insecurities. It wasn't that he was malicious on purpose, he just had a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time in the wrong tone of voice. 

But despite all that, he was loving, caring, affectionate, and would bring the world to its knees for you. Even though you were a powerful sorcerer yourself, you still found him to be incredibly protective of you. He always wanted you to check in before and after a dangerous mission, always had to know how you were doing and if you were hurt. 

He spoiled you. There was nothing you asked for that he wouldn't give you, though you didn't ask for much. You didn't care about his money or notoriety, and that was one of the reasons why he loved you. 

You opened the door to the bathroom, not really knowing what to expect. Your eyes widened the towel that was neatly wrapped around your torso nearly falling to the floor when you saw all the candles. There was a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers on the nightstand and Gojo stood off to the side in nothing but a pair of sweatpants.

"'Toru?" You murmured, ignoring his arrogant smirk at your shock.

"Lay down." He said, and this time it was a clear order. "And take off the towel, you won't be needing it." 

Without much thought you let the white fluffy material fall to the floor, "Back or stomach?" You asked, unsure what position he wanted you in. 

Gojo's satisfaction at your submission made his smirk grow. He was clearly pleased with himself, but it was hard to be upset when he had gone this far to pamper you. "Stomach." He replied. 

You gave him a small nod before laying down on your stomach, resting your head to the side on your pillow. He padded over to you, footsteps almost silent as he ran his large, strong hands down your shoulders and back. 

He began to massage your aching muscles, moving slowly and deliberately. He started with your shoulders and arms before moving to your back, relieving the built-up pressure within your body. 

His hands inched downwards at an agonizingly slow pace, and you hoped he would just touch you where you really wanted to be touched. Arousal and heat pooled in the pit of your stomach as you resisted the urge to clench your thighs together. 

Despite your growing desperation, you remained still. Even when he finally got to your buttocks and began to knead the flesh there before moving down your thighs. A small content sound vibrated in his chest when he saw how tense they were, knowing exactly what had caused them to become that way. 

A gentle kiss was pressed to the back of your neck. "What an amazing wife I have," Gojo cooed softly before moving down your legs to massage your aching calves. His praise had you feeling almost lightheaded with glee, wanting nothing more now than to hear more. 

"Always so ready for me," He added, moving further down your legs and to your feet. "I can't wait to hear you scream." 

You let out a squeak of surprise when he flipped you over suddenly. You watched as his pristine blue eyes swept over your form, drinking in the beautiful sight now beneath him. 

He reached over to the side table, where you hadn't noticed your favorite vibrating wand sitting on display. A shudder ran down your spine as he grabbed it and cut it on, the familiar buzz giving you a Pavlovian response that made you even wetter than you already were. 

Gojo gently pressed the head of the wand onto your clit, keeping it at a low setting. The instant release of pleasure made you squirm in place, grinding against the head in a lewd display. Your husband merely watched curiously as you tried to get yourself off, only finding that the low vibrations weren't quite enough. 

"Did being away from your darling husband for so long make you this needy?" Gojo asked and you nodded your head as a moan slipped from your lips when he increased the setting. "Pretty thing," He replied, "If you needed help getting off while you were gone, all you had to do was ask." 

“Please, Satoru,” You whimpered as he increased the vibration again, moving the wand in tight circles around your clit. Your hips jumped, legs began to shake as weeks of pent-up tension coiled into a tight knot in your stomach. 

He cocked his head to the side, watching your face contort as you chased after the intense high only orgasm could give you. “Please what, love?” He asked, increasing the pace of his movements. 

Your back arched, the pressure coming to a head before snapping and releasing, and the first rush of endorphins after such a long dry spell had you feeling dizzy. “That’s it, beautiful, just let go.” He said softly as he continued to work over your now swollen bundle of nerves. 

“Need you,” You gasped, knowing one orgasm wasn’t going to be enough. Not that that was any issue for Gojo, he was the master of bringing you to your peak repeatedly. 

He had an amused expression on his face, though you couldn't see it through your closed eyes. Your toes curled, breathing hitched as moved the wand even faster. You found yourself crying out with another shockwave of ecstasy, having orgasmed again even without fully coming down from the first one. 

Finally satisfied, Gojo put the wand aside, random muscles in your legs were still twitching, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath long enough to make some sense of the hazy cloud fogging up the inside your mind. 

Gojo slipped off his sweatpants before getting onto the bed. He grabbed the backs of your thighs and moved to press your legs into your stomach as far as they could go. He admired the way the flickering candlelight reflected off of your soaked cunt, the way it glistened for him as if it were his own personal invite. 

He found himself thankful that no other person on the planet would ever see you like this. That his naturally strong and powerful wife could be so vulnerable to him. No one else would ever see the sheer beauty in your body, especially when you were naked beneath him. 

Your eyes finally opened to look up at him, wondering why he was stalling and then feeling embarrassed by the way he was staring at you. You tried to squirm under his hot gaze, only to find yourself trapped beneath the weight he was bearing down on your legs. 

Gojo snapped out of it when he felt a familiar ache in his loins. He guided his tip past your folds and into your wet hole, pushing in slowly and deliberately. Gojo never made a wasted movement, he knew your body as if it were his own. 

He knew exactly what angle to press in at to hit that small sensitive spot in the back of your pussy. He anticipated the shiver that ran down your spine when he purposefully applied pressure to it. 

"Satoru," You keened as he dragged his hips in what some might have thought was a lazy moment. Gojo wanted to make sure you were fully acclimated before slamming into you. He wasn't always so considerate, but knowing how stressed you had been the past few weeks made him extra cautious of your needs. 

Thankful he was no longer abusing your clit, Gojo practically laid on top of you as he rutted his hips into you. "My pretty girl is taking me so well." He praised and you clenched around him at his sweet words. 

He suddenly increased his pace, moving hard and fast in the way that he knew you loved. Your eyes rolled back, trying again to squirm as he fucked you deeper into the straining mattress. "You can take it, princess." He groaned in response to your whimpers,  "Ah, fuck, feels so good inside you." 

While he would never admit it, Gojo hated when you were gone for long away missions. He hated having to look for his right hand for satisfaction or the pocket pussy you had given him as a gift one valentine's day. It just wasn't the same as your warmth. Nothing could simulate the feeling that your mewls of delight gave him. 

His swift pace had you on the verge yet again, the sounds of his skin hitting yours heightened your sensitivity. Gojo leaned down for an open-mouthed sloppy kiss, saliva escaping out the side of your mouth when you moaned as a third orgasm hit. 

Gojo didn't stop. Instead, he moved his thumb to rub against your clit once more, the once abandoned bud now alight with stimulation. Tears back to prick at your eyes, lining your waterline as the feeling of being utterly spent spread through you like wildfire. 

“‘Toru,” You babbled out a beg for him to give you a break. He merely ignored your pleas as he increased his pace yet again, so much so that you thought for sure you would break. 

“Not done yet,” He chided, “I haven’t cum.” The last part was a tease as this was more about pleasing you than himself. Gojo could be incredibly selfish at times, it had led to countless arguments, but there were also rare moments when he disregarded his own needs just to suit your own. 

Just when you thought you couldn’t possibly cum again, you did. This one hit stronger than the rest, a cry erupting from you as Gojo groaned at the tight fluttering of your walls around him. He wasted no time in letting himself hit his own release, pumping you full of his white cum as he pounded it into you haphazardly. 

You quaked beneath him, shaking like a leaf in hurricane winds. Gojo pulled out slowly, trying not to overwhelm you even more as he gently placed your legs back down on the bed. Though you were looking at him, your mind was elsewhere, swimming deep in the pool of endorphins that had been released. 

He placed a sweet kiss on your forehead before getting up to get two towels. He took a warm wet washcloth and wiped away the sweat and cum before drying you off with another clean towel. He was careful not to touch your clit, lest the tears finally fall from your eyes and down your cheeks. 

Slowly you came back to coherency as he slowly maneuvered you under the blankets and tucked you in. “Don’t go,” You murmured, catching the pleased smile on his face as he shook his head at you. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” He assured you as he got into bed with you and wrapped his arms around you tightly, peppering your neck and shoulder with tender presses of his lips. You relax even more in his strong embrace, knowing there was nothing in the world that could possibly harm you while you were tucked away in his arms. 

Stress-free for the first time in weeks, you quickly drifted into the best sleep you’d had since you left home. Your darling husband stayed with you the entire time, holding you close and making sure nothing would wake you prematurely.

[latter-day-saint-nick]

Transmascs and the Not-Like-Other-Girls Syndrome

Much has been said about the Not-Like-Other-Girls Syndrome already. We as a society seem to have largely accepted that it is a sexist attitude, and I am not here to dispute that. Hating on girly girls for the way they perform femininity doesn’t help anyone. That said, I’ve seen a few posts recently pointing out that girls with NLOGS tend be gender non-conforming teens and young adults who were bullied and ostracised by other girls, and so have a hard time trusting traditional femininity, as they connect it with their abusers. Therefore we should be spending just as much time, maybe even more, telling girly girls to accept tomboys as we do vice versa, and the fact that we don’t shows how much we still cling to society’s ideas of acceptable femininity.

This got me thinking about my own experiences, which I suspect other transmascs will be able to relate to. See, I definitely had a phase as a teenager when I hated most girls and things connected to femininity, including aspects of myself that I considered girly. This was misogynist and wrong and kind of unhealthy. I’m not going to pretend differently. That said, looking back, I can see that much of this hatred came from being a trans boy who hadn’t been given the tools to understand that he was, in fact, allowed to be a boy. Being grouped with girls who I seemed to have so little in common with often made me feel lonely and miserable. To be fair, chances are I wouldn’t have been all that happy being grouped with the boys either, since I wasn’t interested in sports and cars and boobs (that’s what straight teenage boys are into, right?). Even if I’d been raised as a boy, I was still queer and neurodivergent, so that coloured all my childhood experiences.

Anyway, many of my gripes about girls were unfair. I shouldn’t have been annoyed by them for being obsessed with make-up and dieting, even though I found these things stupid. Instead I should have reserved my ire for a patriarchal society that teaches women from a young age that they are worthless unless they are thin and cover up their natural faces. Yes, I realise all that now. But, and this is an important but, my experiences had shown me that it is a short step from “I’m a girl and I care about make-up and dieting” to “all girls should care about make-up and dieting, and the fact that you don’t means there’s something wrong with you”. While there were times I have been shamed by cis men for being insufficiently feminine, most of the shaming came from cis girls and women. Usually it wasn’t even done in a mean-spirited way. Most of these girls and women genuinely thought they were helping me by instructing me on how I should dress or what I should do with my hair. Like we were characters in a teen rom-com, and I was the ugly duckling who is given a make-over by her friends and finally gets to dance with the cute guy.

As always when I discuss transmasculinity, I feel the need to put a disclaimer here. I am fully aware of the fact that to many people make-up and pretty dresses are fun and empowering. There is nothing wrong with that. There is nothing wrong with being a woman, just because I decided that it wasn’t for me. But the fact that I even feel like I have to give this disclaimer all the time shows how much more we seem to value the feelings of cis women who embrace femininity over those of women and afabs who reject it. Even when I’m including trans men in my writing, I always have to make sure to show them having positive relationships with the women around them, sometimes in ways that don’t really match my own experiences, lest readers think that these characters just choose to be men because of internalised misogyny. Yeah, that’s a terf rhetoric, but it seems to be common enough that I actively feel the need to combat it at every turn.

But let me make things perfectly clear: to me, personally, traditional femininity was a prison. I hated so many things about it, and I hated the way girls my age and adult women alike were pressuring me to look a certain way and be a certain way. Even now when I see YouTube videos of women talking about the importance of a good skincare routine, I just feel exhausted and wonder how anyone could find joy in that. Once I was old enough to realise that it didn’t matter what other people thought, that I could just cut my hair short and wear fun, comfy clothes, the pressure didn’t stop. And, yeah, that’s how I came down with a serious case of NLOGS. But it’s important to bear in mind that for one thing, of course I wasn’t like other girls - I wasn’t a girl at all. And for another, I had in fact had many negative interactions with girls. Even ones that were perfectly fine one-on-one could turn insufferable in a larger group.

So, yes, those of us who are trans or gnc shouldn’t characterise traditionally girly girls as stupid and shallow. We should all respect each other’s life choices in how we express our genders. But remember that the pressure to perform femininity in a certain way only comes from one side. You don’t get baby butches telling their classmates things like “I don’t know why you keep your hair this long. You’d look so good with an undercut!” or “How do you expect to get a girlfriend dressed like that? Have you ever tried wearing flannels and Doc Martens?” So why should gnc girls and transmascs have to put up with constant comments and criticism on our appearance and then pretend that feminine cis women have never been our oppressors?

[boltwrites]

okay but overstim and mirror where mako is like "look at yourself" but like in that degrading tone yk what i mean? and like if the reader looks away mako forcing them to look in the mirror and like i hv feels abt this lol headcanons would be nice for this also, i really loved your iroh one and mako clone one really good writing thank you for doing this

kinktober 2020 | this week’s list

anon asked: If you have time, can you do a blurb or headcanon of Mako and the reader in front of the mirror plssss thsnk you anon asked: hi can i request mako x f!reader mirror sex? along with some praising if that's alright? thank you!! -🧃 anon asked: Mirror sex head canon with Mako 🥵 Female reader

A/N: considering i got 2 asks before this week even started about this kink, i guess i shouldn’t be surprised about the sheer volume of Mako mirror sex y’all want. also i know a lot of theses requests are for fem reader, but i made this gender neutral afab just because of the sheer amount of interest. also, there is some uh, light choking. ANYWAY enjoy!

by clicking read more you verify that you are at least 18 years old

you had just moved into a new apartment with Mako. it was very nice, even if the last owner seemed to have been a little eccentric. for example, the kitchen was painted orange, of all colors, the tiles in the bathroom were actually kind of sharp - and, there was a huge mirror in the bedroom that took up almost an entire wall

although the kitchen and bathroom definitely needed to be redone, Mako shrugged when you asked if he wanted to get rid of the mirror

“there’s nothing wrong with it,” he contemplated. “it’s up to you.”

you didn’t mind it, personally. it actually helped out in the mornings when you had to both get ready at the same time - Mako always spent so much time on his hair, and it was nice to have your own mirror to work with

you didn’t even think about the implications - neither of you did, for a while. Mako had been working overtime after his new promotion to detective, and you had a lot on your plate as well - plus the home renovations. you two barely had time to breathe for a while, surviving only on heated makeouts and quickies before bed where you were both so exhausted so couldn’t be bothered to do more than just get each other off

but, that changed when Mako finally closed the case he had been working on. you both decided to celebrate with a day off, and away from home renovation work

this, of course, devolved into sex almost immediately. you should have expected it - it was Mako

but spirits, you didn’t know it would be this much

“Mako,” you moaned, twitching violently as he thrust his fingers into you. it was almost midday, and you could hardly breathe - how many times had you come already? you had lost count between coming apart around his dick and losing yourself thanks to his tongue

you twisted on the bed, catching the sight of yourself and Mako in the mirror. he was half on top of you, just starting to harden again, after your last round. he looked so pretty, but you were a sweaty, blushy mess, and you turned away quickly, unable to look at the two of you together like that

but, of course, Mako noticed. he always noticed the things you tried to hide, and his eyes flicked to the mirror as his thumb flicked over you, and you keened, wiggling at the overstimulation

“hm,” Mako hummed, considering the mirror. you made a little indignant noise, reaching up to try and pull Mako back down, divert his attention - but he was already gone

“maybe it was a good thing we kept the mirror,” he mumbled, and you caught his eyes through it, pouting at him. 

“it’s distracting,” you tried to convince him, but Mako shook his head, sliding his fingers out of you. you whined at the lack of contact, but Mako kissed away your complaints as he lifted you onto your knees. he nipped over your neck and shoulders as he moved behind you, and when you opened your eyes, you were facing the mirror

“Mako-” you snapped your legs shut, hiding your face in his neck. “I want to look at you,” you pleaded, because he looked to pretty in the mirror. he was always so cool and composed, but you were - definitely not. your body was already covered in his marks, and your hair was a wreck. 

“but you’re so pretty, look at you,” Mako mumbled, his voice sweet, but his actions certainly not, as he gripped your hair, forcing your head up. you moaned, your knees going week at his rough handling

“look at yourself,” he breathed, nipping at your ear. you opened your eyes, as he trailed his free hand along your stomach, dragging it lower until used it to push your thighs apart

you gasped, watching his hand and sliding your knees further apart for him, spreading your legs for him

“that’s it,” he murmured, trailing his fingers along your inner thighs. “i don’t even have to ask you for it. you want me so bad. how many times have you come now?”

you whimpered, trying to close your eyes, but he tugged at your hair hard, and you gasped, shaking as he rebuked you with only his gaze, caught through the lens of the mirror. 

“how many?” he asked, with a wicked grin. spirits, the things his smirk did to you - 

“I- I don’t know,” you shuddered, doing your best to keep hold of his gaze. he chuckled, his fingers drawing closer, just barely ghosting over you to feel how wet you were for him - and spirits, you were

“you lost track, and you still want more? you’re still aching for it?” he rubbed against you, and you moaned, twisting under his grip just because of how sensitive you were

“how does that feel, hm?” he asked, pulling your hair taunt again, and you shook, your knees threatening to give out on you. “it’s so much-,” you gasped, as he slowly dragged the pad of his finger against your most sensitive part - and you cried out - so overstimulated that it almost hurt, that gentle of a touch

“and you still want it. you love it,” he growled, nipping soft against your neck. you moaned at the feeling of it, especially since he was full hard again, pressed against your lower back, and spirits, you wanted him

“fuck, Mako, please, I love it - “ you whined, fine with playing his games so long as you could have him

“tell me what you want-” “I want you to fuck me!” you all but yelled, an edge of irritation creeping into your voice that only made Mako chuckle.

“I didn’t hear a please,” he teased you, and you could see in the mirror that his grin was stupid and small, and you had to stifle yourself from rolling your eyes with how irritated you were with him. 

“please, Mako!” you cried, if only to get him to move, or do something-

“that’s it,” he mumbled, and before you could even comprehend it, Mako was wrapping one of his arms around your waist, the other nestled gently under your neck - not choking you, but definitely applying pressure so that you couldn’t turn away from the mirror as Mako knocked your knees apart with his own, and pressed in-

“oh-” you would have collapsed if he hadn’t been holding you up. he thrust in hard, and you saw stars as he pressed so close to you.

“you look so good like this, stuffed full of my cock,” he mumbled, kissing at your ear as he squeezed your throat gently. you gasped, trying not to close your eyes, because you knew that he would punish you if you did, and you didn’t want him to pull out and leave you empty

all you could do was moan, as he started to fuck you - first slow and deep, then faster, his body slamming into yours, you unable to fuck back against him, or really do anything but just take it. you felt so sore in the bed way, as he moaned into your ear, his arm tight around you, his hand on your throat unyielding

“fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he groaned, his voice full of emotion as he fucked you faster, and you gripped at his arms, gasping out at the praise as he forced your closer and closer to your own release. you couldn’t even believe it, as he squeezed your throat just a little tighter, as you closed your eyes for just a moment-

you cried his name, coming with a startled shout as he fucked you hard and desperate. you gasped, completely limp as he growled at the feeling of you so tight around him - fucking you even faster, until he followed after, filling you up as he came, still holding you tight against him as he rocked into you through his aftershocks, and you saw stars, your whole body buzzing as you tried to process the amount of pleasure you were experiencing

Mako pulled you back, onto both of your sides as you two recovered from it, Mako pressed firm to your back, pressing kisses to your hair as you tried to correct your breathing. 

yeah, he was right. it was a good thing you decided to keep the mirror

[monbon-sidedish]

As someone who genuinely really likes kids and thinks they're fascinating little human beings, can people on this site please realize that cassandra coming on here to say she hates kids and finds them annoying isn't some sociopathic crime against humanity?

Tumblr leans majority afab and very often people raised with feminine gender roles constantly thrust upon them have a visceral reaction to the idea that they have to like kids, they have to feel protective and loving and caring for them. It is exhausting and suffocating even if you are a caring and maternal person.

It is also a normal part of growing up not to want children. It is completely fine whether a person eventually comes around and avidly wants to be a parent or teacher, or continues to never want to have their own children. The last thing people, who are already having a hard time with the constant societal pressure tof being told 'you should want kids or else you're broken and a monster', is to keep being called sociopaths if they say they find kids annoying. This is not monstrous or abusive. This is stating a personal boundary.

When tumblrites say they don't like kids, I highly doubt they mean they're out here punching children on the street or being personally rude and crass to every child they meet, like, going across the street to tell a child they're stupid or something. They mean 'I don't want to engage with other people's children as though they are my own responsibility, I have the right to exist in public spaces without having to think about strangers' children's safety all the time'. Being honest with this is completely fine and, in fact, healthy. Because people who know this about themselves understand their own limits and wants. Saying you don't want to and are thus incapable of taking care of a child shows honesty and a sense of responsibility. Because a person who knows they dislike children will not go out of their way to be in children's spaces, they present zero danger to a child.

I won't say it's misogynistic to imply that every stranger on the street should automatically feel a parental concern and love for children, however, I will say that all these takes about the supposed 'child-haters' seems like a complete non-issue that does not exist outside the internet. How many people do you see going out of their way to be nasty to random children?

The biggest problem for children's safety is their own abusive relatives that actively mistreat and demean them. Chances are, those people are not reading tumblr posts and won't just change their ways if you say "PLEASE be nice to children".

This attitude also comes across as very condescending. 'Be nice to children' is already a common notion. Nobody needs to be told this about strangers' children.

Familial abuse is the real problem on the other hand. These issues are not the same.

Let people vent their frustrations about spoiled or badly behaved children in public spaces. It does not mean they want to see children hurt.

[queerbreadcrumbs]

I wrote this letter to for when I eventually come out (:

To my loved ones,

I wrote this letter to explain something important to you, because I value our relationship and your support. I wanted to share with you that I don’t fully identify as the current gender I am recognized as. I’m non-binary. As such, from now on it’d be great if you could address me as “Rowan” rather than “*******” and use they/them pronouns for me. Obviously, I know that this will take some time to adjust to and I’m not expecting miracles, but genuine effort will mean the world!

I understand that this may be somewhat confusing, especially as you’ve all known me for quite some time. Over the course of this letter, I have included answers to the most common questions people have, as well as definitions and resources for further information. I’m also happy to answer any questions you may have regarding this insofar as they are respectful.

What does non binary mean?

-       Non- Binary or genderqueer individuals have a gender identity and/or expression that is neither man or woman. Some people are both, or are fluid in their gender identities or expressions and others are neither. In my case, it’s that I don’t identify particularly strongly with either gender. Most of the time I don’t feel like either a man or a woman, I just am.

Are you trans?

-       Well yes and no. Yes in the sense that I don’t agree with the gender assigned to me at birth, no in the sense that I have no desire to transition to male.

Do I have to do anything?

-       Not really! As I mentioned earlier, my name is now Rowan, and my pronouns are now they/them. So instead of saying something like “I like ******, she bakes really good cakes” or “****** left her coat here!” you’d instead say “I like Rowan, they bake really good cakes.” Or “Rowan left their coat here!” The only thing you really have to do is make a conscious effort not to use my old name and pronouns.

What are pronouns and why do you want new ones?

-       Pronouns are a group of words we use as short versions for nouns. The most common ones in the English language are she/her/ (feminine) and he/him (masculine). The singular form of these that isn’t gendered is usually thought to be “it/it’s” and personally I find this much more jarring in a sentence than they/them. Firstly, because it’s dehumanising. We tend to use the pronoun “it” when describing an inanimate object. “Look at that potato, it’s got eyes growing on it!” Whereas when describing a group of people, or someone whose gender you don’t know, the grammatically correct pronouns to give would be they/them. I don’t really know my gender, so I don’t expect you to figure it out through a complex use of English syntax. They/them, like you would use with any other unknown is fine.

-       This is something I want to change because people using she/her in reference to me makes me quite uncomfortable. When I am referred to as female it kind of feels like I’m an imposter or deceiving people in some way, like you’re seeing something that’s not there and that you’ll be cross when you find out I’ve been lying to you. I’d like to change my pronouns as I want to be honest with you all about who I am.

Why “Rowan”?

-       Rowan is a Gaelic name which comes from the Rowan tree. (Like the name Willow is after the Willow tree) In Scottish Gaelic it means “little redhead” and has always been a unisex name, although usually these days we see it more for boys than girls. I imagine most of you would immediately think of Rowan Atkinson. (Mr Bean, Blackadder)

-       I chose Rowan for a few reasons. Firstly because of its Gaelic origin and my desire to keep some connection to my Celtic roots. Secondly it sounds similar to ******* and has the same number of syllables which should help you when remembering to use it! Thirdly as those of you related to me directly will know, when those of us assigned female at birth (AFAB) reach a certain age our hair reddens before turning grey. As my hair has already started to pick this up, I thought a name meaning “redhead” was appropriate.

-       I wanted to change this because my given name is quite feminine and much like being referred to as she/her, being called ‘*******’ makes me feel very uncomfortable. You’d think being called it for 24 years would be enough to get used to it, but apparently not!

Why change this now?

-       I’ll admit that this all may be quite shocking or confusing to some of you. Please know that I have given this no small amount of thought. Accepting myself as I am has been a long and arduous process for me, so I understand if it feels like a lot for my loved ones too.

-       Looking back, it feels like I’ve had a difficult relationship with gender. As some of you will remember I was always a bit of a tomboy growing up. It took a long time for me to be comfortable wearing dresses.

-       As a teenager though, I began to face increasing pressure to be feminine, and was often called a lesbian for the way I chose to present myself. I had short hair and wore many a check shirt with doc martens. I loved it! Although, I did notice on the occasion I didn’t do this and presented in a more feminine way I was praised for this. People told me I looked nicer; people treated me better. The teasing stopped and I lived with less harassment which felt nice. Unfortunately, though I interpreted this feeling nice as enjoying being perceived as female.

-       I was still quite uncomfortable and some of my friends and loved ones picked up on this. However, I didn’t think it too important to question.

-       BUT NOT FOR LONG! Lockdown had a profound effect on me coming to terms with my gender. Because I wasn’t going anywhere, I no longer had to perform femininity. I just wore what felt good. I cut my hair really short and liked it! I was very comfortable with being at home, both physically and mentally.

-       However, when lockdown ended, I got a new job. I had to start performing again and the long hiatus made me realise just how uncomfortable I actually am being seen as a woman. The kids at school call me “miss.” I get called ****** constantly as people are trying to get my attention in the conventional way rather than just throwing things at me or just touching me like Tom does. Honestly, I hate it and it’s profoundly exhausting, which is why I’ve decided I want to live as Rowan.

-       Another thing that put all of this into sharp perspective for me was getting engaged. Don’t misunderstand, I love Tom more than anything in the world, and I still want very much to get married to him and for us to spend the rest of our lives together. I’m still very excited about our wedding! However, the language used to talk about weddings and engagements and the expectations surrounding them are very gendered! Words like ‘bride’ or ‘wife’ feel very strange and foreign when applied to me. As mentioned earlier though I don’t want to be a husband or groom either. I’m not sure there are alternatives for these words. I quite like how romantic “betrothed” sounds but I also don’t want to sound like I’ve just walked out of 1655.

-       Trying on wedding dresses was another huge hurdle for me. Part of it was my self-esteem issues and lack of confidence but everything I tried on made me feel like a fake, a failure. It being during times of COVID, I wasn’t permitted to take anyone with me to my fitting appointments. As such, I had these strange, unfamiliar saleswomen telling me I’d make a stunning bride and all such other nonsense while I felt just…wrong. At the time, I remember discussing it with my friends after sending them some pictures of me wearing wedding dresses. The words I used were “I felt like an imposter.” This is not just because I’m not used to wearing anything fancy. It’s because I’m not a woman. The clothes you wear on your wedding day are meant to make you feel fantastic, and I didn’t feel even comfortable in any of them, let alone fantastic. I have since purchased a dress to wear on my wedding day. It is simple, and I will style it to make myself as happy as I can be. I will still look like a “bride”. I’m just going to try to be as comfy as I can, reminding myself that clothes have no gender.  

What about clothes?

-       Typically, clothes are gendered. You walk into a shop and they usually have a men’s range and a women’s range. Because I am neither, I shop in both ranges!

-       I do also own a fair few dresses and skirts. This won’t change. Clothes have no gender. Traditionally yes, women wear dresses and skirts. But plenty of people who identify as men wear them and find them comfortable. Freddie Mercury, David Bowie, Harry Styles, Jayden Smith. These are all men, and yet they have all rocked skirts at one point or another. My wearing a dress or a skirt doesn’t make me any less non-binary as much as it didn’t make these guys any less of a man.

-       Furthermore, it wasn’t that long ago that trousers were deemed too masculine for women. However most modern women wear trousers, a lot of the time. Some of you are probably wearing trousers right now. Trousers have only recently begun to be considered neutral in our culture. Of course, it depends massively these days on the cut and the fit of them, but trousers can absolutely be masculine or feminine, just like me. I truly believe that one day skirts and dresses will become this neutral. They have been for a long time in Scotland.

-       In my mind this also explains why my personal preference for clothing has always been baggy and loose fitting.

Gendered terminology

-       As I mentioned previously when I talked about weddings, a lot of family language is heavily gendered. Son/Daughter, Husband/Wife, Niece/Nephew, Mum/Dad, Auntie/Uncle, Brother/Sister ect. Some of these words have gender neutral equivalents, and others don’t really. Where there is a gender-neutral equivalent, I would prefer it. Where there isn’t, I’m okay to be referred to as the female variant. For example, I’m fine being “Auntie Rowan”, “Dawn’s daughter[1]” or “Tom’s wife.[2]” But, I’d rather be Winnie’s parent than her mum, my Auntie’s nibling than her niece and Leanne’s sibling than her sister. If this sounds a little odd in conversation, and I’m sure it will do at first, you can say things like “My daughter uses they/them pronouns.”

So, are you “out, out”?

-       This letter is the start of my “social” transition. This is the part where the trans or non-binary person begins to live as themselves. As my close friends and family, I have chosen to share this with you first. As I live authentically, I want you to hear it from me, and have it explained by me rather than just stumbling across the fact I’ve changed my name on social media.

-       However, I’m not fully out yet. I’ve not yet informed anyone I work with or anyone in an official capacity, such as my doctor and I’m not using my new name legally just yet.

-       Please be mindful when discussing this with others that they may not be accepting. What matters is that you accept me. If you think telling a specific person might put me at risk, then don’t tell them.

-       If you want to discuss this with extended family that’s fine! 

More information

-       If you have questions that I haven’t answered here let me know and I’ll do my best to answer.

-       If you don’t feel comfortable asking me or just want more information on non-binary identities: - https://lgbt.foundation/who-we-help/trans-people/non-binary - https://gender.wikia.org/wiki/Non-binary - “A Field Guide to gender-neutral language” Shelley Roth (50p on apple books, or I could smuggle you a copy!)

In conclusion, I hope that you’re able to understand and support me in my coming out and coming to terms with my nonbinary identity, and that this doesn’t ruin, but strengthen our relationship. This has been very hard for me to share, but I’m ready to be my authentic self.  If you have any questions, feel free to contact me.

Yours,

*********

[1] Technically yes, Son/Daughter do have the gender-neutral variant of child, but It’d be kind of weird to call a 24 year old a child, so please don’t.

[2] I hate the word “spouse” it just sounds like “spout” and I’d rather be someone’s wife than someone’s spout any day.