#but pride in virginity and rejection of sexualization are two things we know were very important to joan

[laurapalmersighs]

i hate when people draw joan of arc as an ultra feminine sex symbol. she was boyish and she would hate you. so jot that down

[werelesbian]

Lesbian has been a word that has been negatively used since I was a child. When I was a little kid I was told “You can’t be gay or marry outside of your own race” by my father. I must’ve bottled that up for years. I’ve always looked at girls since I was a kid. I remember one of my earliest memories being from when I was about 7 and thinking a lady with a green shirt was really pretty. I also always remember staring at boobs and butts, A LOT. I always had an interest in girls, I just didn’t realize it.

When sexuality became to become known, one of my friends came out as bisexual and I flipped out. Being gay was always seen as bad to my family and thus I had to follow it. When “I Kissed a Girl”, “She Keeps Me Warm” and “Same Love” were on the radio, I became very anxious and changed the pronouns to prove I wasn’t gay. I couldn’t be gay right? Even though I have looked at girls before and I remember staring at my friend’s brother’s ceiling with a picture of a woman in a bikini.and being mesmerized by it.

As I got older, the concept of being gay became normalized to me. I came out as pansexual because that’s what I thought I was at the time. I maybe had one “crush” on a boy, but more numerous ones on girls. My friend, a camp counselor, and my mom’s friend’s daughter.

High school finally rolled around and I went through my first stage of questioning. I cycled through labels until I came to bisexual. That’s what I believed to be best. Then the crushes on girls flooded in. The first crush I recognized I had on a girl was my friend’s ex girlfriend. I wanted her! But when my friend asked her out I was crushed. “Oh well I thought, I’ll have to live with it”. I tried to third wheel in their relationship, probably due to lingering feelings. Then I developed a crush on another girl, a good friend of mine. I asked her out to TOLO, but she said no and I cried. Straight girls cry when they get rejected by girls right? I almost asked a guy friend of mine as a rebound but then decided against it.

Later on since both of my friends were dating, I decided that I should to. I chose a guy who I thought was ‘cute’ and we went out a few times. He even asked me to homecoming the next year where he kissed me. I felt nothing by it and very awkward. Him and I went out again a few more times but I didn’t really feel much for him. I liked the kissing somewhat but that was about it. I think I was more excited by feeling rebellious. My friends pushed the label of ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’ onto us, but it was awkward. But I still went along with it.

At the beginning of sophmore year, I had to attend eating disorder treatment and I was drawn to another girl there. She was so cool and I wanted to be close to her and spend time with her. Too bad nothing ever came of it. That same year however, I also developed a crush on another girl in my French class. When she walked in, it was like time slowed down, I was SO attracted to her. We even sat next to each other in class and boy, did she make me nervous. I felt things that were different than even being with that guy I was with. Even seeing her years later, my eyes still were drawn to her like a damn magnet. She was gorgeous.

In junior year, my friends began to have sex and lose their virginities. I felt left behind and wanted to fit in. There was always a craving for it, especially since I always felt ‘different’ and left out, even since I was a kid. I was bullied too and with a sweet blend of my low self esteem and depression, I followed trends. This was just another one of them. I made a ‘pact’ with myself that year to get a boyfriend for the sole purpose to lose my virginity and I did. I also developed a weird obsession with two guys that year. I dressed up and daydreamed scenarios in my head of them liking me. I wanted them to want me, but I’m not sure if I wanted them. But I also did end up achieving my goal that year. I got the boyfriend and lost my virginity. I did what I had to do. Even though it was awkward and I felt numb after it. It resulted in me having 2 months of extreme anxiety due to a fear of being pregnant.

In the relationship, I didn’t feel much, or not at all for the guy. I leaned on him for support due to my dysfunctional family. It was an escape. I eventually broke it off with him and got over the relationship within a week. This started a cycle of waiting for the next boyfriend to come around. The next one eventually did. He was nice and cared for me. He pursued me first and I went with it. I’m glad I didn’t have to have sex with him. It was the easiest relationship I was in because we were more like friends and less like lovers. Then we broke up and I got over him within a week. Rinse and repeat.

The last boyfriend I dated for nine months and I believed at one point I loved him. He cared for me and had a nice family I could escape to, when mine was falling apart at the seams. I craved the ‘nuclear family’ unit since I never had in the start. I felt accepted and safe there when I didn’t want to go home to mine. His companionship was nice and all, but I know deep down I didn’t care for him the way he cared for me. He loved me, but I didn’t love him. He wanted to escalate the relationship to the next level and an alarm bell went off in my head. It was a major “NO” to be but I tried to ignore it and said “maybe” to him. I often went along for the ride and never followed what I wanted. We eventually broke up after we were drifting apart. I began to crave sex less and began to hate doing anything with his penis. I tried my best to avoid having penetration and was relieved when we didn’t have to do it. I was so scared of getting pregnant, but deep down it may have been my body telling me that it wasn’t right. I was also relieved when I didn’t have to see him as much. I wanted to be away from him and felt relief when I broke up with him. It took me about a week to get over him.

The cycle almost began again when another guy pursued me but I wasn’t into it. He wanted to go out with me again and I panicked. I didn’t want to see him. All this time when I was dating boys, my sexuality was really repressed but it surfaced in cracks. I’d often create characters who were LGBT+ and the ones I was most obsessed with were often bisexual or lesbian. Most characters I created were never straight, but I turned them so because of my own internalized homophobia. I dealt with it a lot for two years and even showed discontentment with others who were openly queer. I think it was because I myself deep down knew I was like them but was afraid to be ‘different’ due to backlash. I had crafted and dressed myself in a way to be palatable to the opposite sex. I had this deep craving to ‘fit in’, so much so that I neglected my own sexuality and in a way a part of myself.

This year, I met another girl who I fell for. I began to crush hard on her and fell head over heels for her. She made me feel good about myself for once in my life. She was beautiful, kind, smart and had a wicked sense of humor. She was like a dream to me. She was my catalyst. I wanted to kiss her and hold her close. We fell asleep on the phone with each other every night and spend hours talking to each other. It was like two peas in a pod we clicked so well. I also craved her touch, her body, her skin against mine, what her lips felt like. I took notice of the little things in her from the curve of her jaw to the color of her eyes. I wrote her letters and picked flowers that I wanted her to see. I wanted to talk to her all the time.

Although our relationship was short, I will forever thank her for lighting the fire again of my sexuality. When I began talking to her, I began to take notice of girls so much more. My gaze averted from that I had learned to that of what I wanted. Pretty girls made me so nervous and I felt like my damn 14 year old self again. It was like being a kid in a candy store, I was so damn happy! I even bought pride merchandise for the first time in forever. I was okay with being gay. However, I should have never brought it up with any of my family. They said that they’d like me to end up with a boy, asked if I have talked to any boys yet, said I haven’t found the right guy, I’m just x sexuality, etc.

Now I’m scared once again and want to go back into the closet. I’m keeping this close to me. It’s my dirty little secret I guess. Questioning doesn’t help either. I doubt myself all the time and ‘test’ myself to see if I am attracted to men. I feel as if I have to ‘double-check’ to see if I am truly gay. It’s the damn doubt all over again. I also punish myself if I look at girls in a sexual way. Girls in the past thought I had touched them and I felt like a dirty pervert, hell my friend even thinks so. It’s hard for me to allow myself to like women again. I don’t want to be seen as a predator or trying to use them as an experiment. I just want a girl to love and give my all to. I want to be the best damn person I can be for my future girlfriend/wife and I’ll be damned if I can’t do that.

All of this questioning process is so confusing. Am I a lesbian? Am I bi? Maybe I’m just a straight girl in denial doing this because I’m lonely. Fuck who knows. I just know that after being with a woman, I sure as hell don’t want to go back. My attraction to men has regressed. Maybe I’m in a bi-cycle, or maybe it’s my lesbian awakening. Only time will tell. Most queer women I have talked to agree that I am a lesbian. When I call myself gay or lesbian. It makes me feel good, but I feel as if I have to resort to bisexual just in case “Mr. Right” comes along. But he probably never will. In fact, he probably never existed.

I’ve had elaborate fantasies about romance but I never saw a clear face of who the “man” was supposed to be. When I fantasize about sex, I was never there unless it was with another woman, never a man. Another woman always took that place and I’d view it from third person, like watching porn. Women light a fire in me that men do not. I’ve gotten turned on by their bodies and touch in a way that I haven’t with guys. Hell if I know why, but I do. Maybe I really am just gay and that’s okay. Maybe I am a lesbian after all. The word isn’t so “dirty” anymore.

Reading back over this reflection from how I feel about my sexuality back in august, it still really rings true to how I feel. I know I experienced attraction to men in the past, but now I feel more attracted to women more than anything. I hate how my brain tries to make me think that this will all be temporary and I will go back to a straight lifestyle eventually, but deep down I know this is what I want. Not going to lie, I don’t like talking about sexuality with anyone irl other than some of my own friends who also experienced the same thing. I tend to keep things under lock and key because I don’t want people to know about my bisexuality. I can’t change who I am yet I continue to try and disprove that I am attracted to women and try to prove that I am more attracted to men despite not really feeling that way anymore. My sexuality isn’t “fluid”, but my preferences have changed. I just wanna be with a woman possibly in the long run and if I never experience any attraction to a man again, nothing is lost for me. I tend not really to go out of my way to interact with men other than friendships just because it’s not something that I necessarily care for. I just gravitate towards spending time with other women and idk why. I know that’s not indicative of my sexuality or anything. Nothing is indicative of it other than who’ve I’ve been attracted to which is women and men. I hate being bisexual too if I’m going to be honest. There’s no basis for my attraction and experiences vary so wildly that I can’t always relate to anyone but go off what I feel.

Maybe some of the way I act is performative because I wanna escape the idea of being with a man. Maybe if I find the “perfect man”, I can learn to be with him and spend my life with him indefinitely. But that relationship with a man just seems so...unsatisfying. I just can’t do it. With women though, I think I can be with one in the long run. I have my own fears of actually not liking it or that I’m gonna react in a similar way to when I was with men in that something felt off all the time, but I’m unsure if that will happen. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to fall in love with a woman or want to spend my life with one. This all sounds very contradictory I know but this is me getting out my own thoughts. I honestly don’t think I want to be with men again. Does this make me a febfem? Maybe, but I also know that a woman just sounds right to me.

[star-spangled-steve]

His New Partner

Chapter 12: The Experimentation

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 4721

Warnings: Smut, vaginal sex, oral sex, light fingering, nudity, Daddy!Kink, light Dom!Steve, sub!Reader, dirty talk, mentions of other kinks and sexual activities, cussing.

A/N: I debated for a while whether or not I was going to post something like this, but here we go.

“Can you pass me the gummy bears?” Natasha asked over the sound of ‘Dirty Dancing’, which was playing the television screen.

“Mm-hmm.” Y/N responded, being able complete the task without straying her eyes from the epic final dance number.

The two were having a ‘Girls Night’ in Natasha’s room, something which they did pretty regularly. The event was usually filled with snacks, gossip, and cheesy romance movies that the boys refused to watch, even though they secretly enjoyed them.

“Oh, I love that one so damn much.” Y/N gushed when the closing credits of the film started to play. “The music, the dancing, the sexy Patrick Swayze.”

Natasha chuckled, standing up to take the DVD out of the player. “Sexier than Steve?” She asked with a smirk, before returning to the little makeshift fort that they had created on the ground. In reality, it was just a pile of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals that Natasha had too much pride to admit she owned.

“Hmm… almost. But don’t tell him that.” Y/N kidded. No one was sexier to her than Steve was, and everybody knew it.

“Speaking of the Captain, how have you two been doing?” The redhead inquired.

The younger girl was confused at her question. “‘Doing’ how?”

“You know… sexually.”

“Nat!” Y/N erupted in nervous giggles, her cheeks getting warmer by the second.

“What? I’m just curious.” She clarified. “The man was a virgin for almost a century. Their has to be an interesting story to tell.”

“I mean, I don’t know.” Y/N played with the bottom of her shirt. “The sex is good. Great, even.”

“But?”

The actress furrowed her eyebrows. “Wait, how did you know that there was a ‘but’?”

Natasha just shrugged, grabbing another Twizzler. “I’m a spy.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to find the correct way to phrase her upcoming statement. “But, it’s very… vanilla, per se.”

“Wow.” The other woman tried not to laugh, failing miserably. “That bad?”

“No! It’s not bad at all.” She now felt guilty for implying anything wrong of Steve. “It’s not his fault that I’ve never been vocal about this.”

“Then why don’t you just be vocal about it?” Natasha suggested like it was the obvious solution.

“Because, what if he thinks I’m some ‘sorta freak of nature?” Y/N worried, grabbing a small handful of M&M’s.

“Damn, Y/N. What kind of shit are you into?” The assassin joked, making the girl drop her head in embarrassment.

“Nothing that weird, I swear!” The girl laughed, wrapping her blankets closer around her. “But Steve is from the olden days, I don’t want to scare him off.”

“Look, N/N.” Natasha grabbed one of her hands. “That man loves you so much, nothing you could ever say or do would scare him off. You guys have only been sleeping together for like three weeks, right? So just tell him, explore with him. Maybe something really great will come out of it.”

“Thanks, Nat.” Y/N pulled her into a hug, grateful for finding such an amazing friend. “But, I just want to be clear.” They pulled away. “I do still very much enjoy sex with Steve.”

“Thats good.” The woman smiled.

“Like he started doing this thing, where he calls me his ‘babydoll’. So thats pretty cool.” Y/N rambled on. “And also, he told me that I was a ‘good girl’ one time. I think that it was on accident, but man oh man, it was sexy.” She absentmindedly hugged one of the many throw pillows, a dreamy expression painted on her face.

“Jeez. Who knew that Y/N Y/L/N was so kinky in the bedroom?” Natasha laughed, causing Y/N’s head to whip towards her.

“Nobody knows. So please, please, please, please-“

“I won’t tell anyone.” The redhead finished. “I promise, your secret is safe with me.”

*****

The feel of the punching bag beneath his hand wraps was the only thing Steve knew as he pounded relentlessly on it. One punch for each night she’d been away from him, and when he got to seven, he’d repeat. All other sights and surroundings were invisible to him, so when Tony put a hand on his shoulder, it was quite the surprise.

“Jesus, Tony!” Steve yelled, flinching away from the billionaire.

“Told you not to poke the bear.” Natasha remarked from her place on one of the treadmills. 

The brunette rolled his eyes. “Just wanted see what his problem was, you know, before he annihilates my whole gym.” He gestured the already destroyed punching bag on the floor, an unimpressed look on his face.

“Give me a break, Stark.” Steve sighed before realizing that he was going to get nothing done, particularly now that these two had arrived. He moved to the benches along the wall and began to unwrap his hands.

“Why should I?” Tony quipped, before coming upon a realization. “Ah. You miss your little girlfriend, don’t you?”

“It’s the first time that Y/N’s had to travel away since she moved in here. So yes, I do.”

Y/N, being an actress with high demands, often had to go away for filming, press, premieres, and more. Most of the time, Steve was okay with it. He understood that she had places to be, especially since he had a such a time consuming job himself. But since the couple began living with each other, they’d basically been attached at the hip, and separation was extremely difficult. Even if it was just filming for a single week in Los Angeles.

“I see, I see. You’re angry and horny.” Stark nodded, earning a harsh glare from the Captain. “What? It’s perfectly explainable. Though, not a reason to ruin my equipment, considering that she comes back tonight. But still, explainable. Hell, I’d be pretty pissed if I didn’t have sex for a week, too.”

“Just vanilla sex.” The pair heard the redhead mumble, who still hadn’t looked up from her treadmill’s display screen, and was oblivious to the attention suddenly being on her.

“What did you just say?” Tony asked, his lips beginning to form into a smirk.

“Oh, me?” Natasha tried to brush it off, having honestly not meant to say that. “Nothing.”

“Really?” Tony rose his eyebrows. “Because to me, it sounded like you said ‘vanilla sex’.”

“I didn’t mean it.” The assassin lied, continuing to run a steady pace.

Stark completely ignored her statement. “And you said it when referring to Steve and Y/N’s sex. Oh goodness, this is hysterical. Do you know something, Natasha, that we don’t?”

“What does ‘vanilla sex’ mean?” Steve questioned, beginning to get worried of what their answer will be.

“You know, boring, ordinary, plain… vanilla.” Tony explained, his grin never dying. “Who told you that, Romanoff?” He slyly moved over to the treadmills, and leaned a hand on the one that she was using. Steve’s slightly nervous face was just urging him on even more. “Because Rogers, over here, certainly didn’t say it. So by default, it must have been, hm… Y/N.”

“Well-“

“Did she?” The Captain interrupted her, his frown now extremely prominent to them. “Did she say that our sex was ’vanilla’?”

“Um, well… yes.” Natasha spoke, stopping the exercise to give Steve her full attention. The newly formed slump in his posture did not go unnoticed.

“Oh.” The man spoke, now having a hard time putting words together. “I-I thought she liked it.” He gulped, beginning to have flashbacks to all of the women that rejected him in his early years.

“She did!” Natasha tried to cheer him up. “A whole lot.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.” Steve ground his teeth.

“No, I swear!” The woman continued. “She loves that ‘babydoll’ thing you do. And-And, uh, you said ‘good girl’ once. She told me that she went crazy inside!”

Steve listened intently, trying to take notes in his head.

“Damn, Cap.” Tony chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a submissive little lover.”

The blonde ignored him. “Why didn’t she tell me any of this then?”

Natasha sighed, moving over to her gym bag to collect her belongings. “Because she loves you, and she doesn’t want you to think she’s weird.”

“Oh. I would never-“

“Exactly.” Romanoff stated. “Tell her that. Ask her to show you what she likes. Communicate.”

Steve nodded his head. “Thanks for the new information.” And without another word, slung his bag over his shoulder, exiting the gymnasium.

The other two Avengers just shook their heads and continued on, completely unaware of their Captains plans to make Y/N’s first night back the best night yet.

*****

An odd mix of awkwardness and sexual tension filled the atmosphere of the Stark Tower elevator. Steve had just picked Y/N up from the airport, excited to get his hands on his girl once again. Seven days apart was just seven too many for the pair, and as soon as the got within closed doors, they were on top each other. Y/N was caged in between Steve and the elevator’s wall, letting out small moans into his mouth as they kissed. The moment was pure bliss for the two, finally being reunited after what seemed like the longest week of their lives. What they hadn’t expected though, was the elevator doors opening to the one and only Dr. Bruce Banner.

After a moment of shock and the couple chaotically separating from each other, the scientist quietly shuffled into the lift. He leaned against the wall, making sure it was opposite of the one that Steve and Y/N we’re just making out against.

“So,” Bruce broke the silence after an uncomfortable minute, “how was your trip, Y/N?”

“Uh, it was really good.” She smiled halfheartedly, trying not to mind the fact that she was absolutely disheveled. “Lots of sun down there.”

Banner just nodded his head, eyes focused on the floor.

“How was your day, Bruce?” Steve nicely asked, hoping that there wasn’t any of Y/N’s lipgloss smeared on his face.

“It was fine.” 

The hum of the elevator was the only thing heard, until a small ‘ding’ alerted Steve and Y/N that it was their time to get off.

“Nice seeing you.” The girl gave a tiny wave as she stepped out.

“Yes, you too.” Banner politely smiled, but the couple didn’t miss the way it quickly disappeared when he thought that they were out of eyesight.

The elevator doors finally closed, leaving the couple alone at last. Steve placed down her luggage, that he was carrying, and Y/N let out a huge sigh.

“Well, that-“ She was cut off by Steve’s lips once again attaching themselves onto hers.

He quickly swept her up into his strong arms, her legs involuntary wrapping themselves around his waist. Y/N’s back met the wall, the door, and finally the bed as she was harshly shoved upon it, almost as harshly as Steve’s hands squeezed her ass. His lips trailed down her neck and chest, giving rough bites along the way.

“Wait, wait, Steve.” She said when he finally gave her the chance, tapping his shoulder multiple times to get his attention.

“Ya?” He reluctantly lifted his head from her still clothed chest.

“Wha-What the hell was that?” Y/N asked him, eyebrows furrowed.

“What was what?”

“That. You never act like that-that rough.” She was confused at his new change behaviour. Normally her Steve was much more gentle.

He sighed and shook his head, before getting off of her to stand up. “There’s just no pleasing you, is there?”

“Huh?” Y/N spoke, still laid out on the bed.

“I thought that you wanted this.” Steve was frustrated. All that he wanted to do was please her and she was making it impossible.

“I never said that.” She told him.

“I was trying to make things better for you.” He continued pacing angrily. “I didn’t want you think that our sex was... ‘vanilla’!”

Y/N gasped and sat up straight. “D-Did Natasha-?”

“Yes. Natasha told me.” Steve stated. He finally took a breath and placed his hands in his lips.

She gulped. “Nat promised to not-”

“So you did say it?”

Y/N had never seen the man look so hurt. “Well, yes. But-”

Steve puffed a breath before turning around to face away from her.

“But, Steve.” She stood up and quickly walked to the place in front of him, making them face to face. “I wasn’t meaning it in a bad way.”

“There’s only one way to mean it, Y/N.” He frowned.

“It’s not your fault, though. I never told you any of this.” She placed her hands on his broad shoulders, and rubbed in what she hoped was a comforting manner. 

“Then tell me.” Steve spoke up. “Tell me how you like it.”

“What if you think I’m a weirdo?” Y/N asked.

“Not possible. Look, uhm...” He separated from her touch, walking across the room to Y/N’s small laptop that sat on their dresser. “Let’s research.”

“Research?” She giggled.

“Ya! Come on, we can look things up on the internet. Sex things.” Steve added, a smile finally beginning to form in his face. “You tell me what you like, I’ll tell you what I like. We can make a night out of it!”

“Ok.” Y/N beamed at how adorable her boyfriend was being.

The couple took off their shoes and socks to get comfortable, before Steve grabbed the laptop and moved to sit on the bed first. “C’mon, babydoll.” He smirked, patting his lap. Y/N slightly licked her lips and Steve could completely sense the increase in her arousal. “There’s one! That turned you on, I can tell.”

Y/N blushed. “You caught me.”

The couple sat there for almost an hour, going through countless lists of sexual kinks and activities online. Y/N in Steve’s lap, the laptop in her’s. She offered to let him try using it, maybe help him get used to technology, but he declined. He knew that she could get it done much faster, and instead, Steve had the job of scribbling down some of their opinions on his notepad.

“Foot fetish.” Y/N read off from one of the kinky websites they were on. “You got one?” She asked, playfully rubbing his bare feet with her smaller ones.

“I wouldn’t say so.” He answered with a small chuckle. “Though your’s are quite adorable.”

“Their way to ticklish to anything with, anyways.” Y/N added, continuing to scroll through.

“What’s ‘urophilia’?” Steve questioned from over her shoulder.

“Um, you know... peeing on each other.”

“Sounds messy.” He remarked, making Y/N laugh.

“Swinging, group sex, threesomes?” She listed off, already knowing her own opinion on them.

“I don’t share.” Steve stated, making her turn slightly to face him.

“That works out, because I don’t want to be shared.” Y/N smiled, giving him a peck on the lips before turning back to the website. “Anal sex?”

“Jesus.” He puffed out a breath. “How do you feel about that one?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest.” She contemplated. “But never say never.”

Steve glanced up from his notes to the small computer screen, and read off the next one. “Dominance and submission?”

“Well... maybe that would be something I’d want to try.” Y/N told him, playing with his fingers sheepishly.

“I think we found a winner.” Steve joked. “My little submissive girl.”

“Wait.” She turned to face him once again. “Now, how did you know that I want to be the submissive one?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I still remember when we made out on our fifth date, and you told me that you liked it when I was dominant with you.”

Y/N scrunched up her nose. “You and your stupid eidetic memory.”

Steve let out a laugh before grabbing the computer from her and closing the screen, setting it and the notepad down on his bedside table.

“What was that for?” She asked him.

His big hands grabbed her hips and completely turned her so she was straddling him, eye to eye. “I’m getting impatient, sweetheart. All of this sex talk is making me want to get down to business.”

Y/N giggled and bit her bottom lip.

“Just tell me, my love. Lay it on me.” Steve encouraged. “All of it, every last thing. What do you like?”

She began to relax, the feeling of him rubbing circles on her hips with his thumbs being comforting. “Okay... so yes, I do like it when you’re dominant and I’m submissive. But, I don’t necessarily like being hurt that much.”

“Like whips and things?” Steve questioned.

“Ya, I don’t really think I want that.” Y/N told him. “To be honest, how rough you are doesn’t really matter to me. A lot of what I like is psychological.”

“Explain, darling.”

“Well, like, you know... names and stuff.” She picked at her fingers nervously, never having had a conversation like this before. Y/N was a virgin until she met Steve, and these secrets were buried deep inside of her.

“Like the name ‘babydoll’?” He assumed, toying with the straps of her sundress.

“Including that, yes.” She gulped. “But, there’s a bit more to it than that. I, uh...”

“Hey.” Steve lifted up her chin and rubbed her jawline soothingly. “No secrets, remember?”

Y/N nodded with small smile. “Have you, um, have you ever heard of a ‘daddy kink’?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “A ‘daddy kink’? Like, a kink about your father?”

“No!” She shook her head repeatedly. “Not my father. It’s not a father kink, or a dad kink. It’s a daddy kink.” Y/N watched as Steve’s head tilted even harsher in confusion, and let out a sigh. “Forget it, it’s stupid.”

He stopped her from moving off of his lap by placing a strong arm around her torso. “No, I’m not going to forget it until you at least explain this whole thing to me.” Steve could see the doubt still in her beautiful eyes. “I won’t judge you, doll.”

“Fine. Um, a daddy kink is where a man is the ‘daddy’ role, and the woman is the ‘little girl’ role. Or it’s a ‘little boy’, depending on the circumstances.” Y/N explained, trying to stay confident in her decision to share this with him. “A-And it’s not that I picture my father or anything, ew, gross.” Steve chuckled, urging her on. “It’s you calling me your ‘baby girl’ and ‘princess’, rewarding me when I’m good, punishing me when I’m bad. It’s that I like feeling safe and protected and nurtured, but yet also dominated.” She finished, letting out the huge breath that she was holding.

“There. That wasn’t so hard to explain, was it?” He smiled at her. “And it’s nothing to be ashamed about. The idea of protecting and nurturing you is actually quite... sexy to me, if I’m being honest.”

“Really?” Y/N asked hopefully.

“Yes, really.” Steve rubbed her lower back. “I’d be more than willing to try this stuff out with you,” he lightly pushed her closer and whispered in her ear, “my little girl.” The sound of Steve calling her that sent chills down Y/N’s spine, and he instantly picked up on it. “Oh yes, I can already see the effect on you, baby. I bet you’re already dripping wet for me.” One of his hands ventured further south, slipping underneath her dress and into her underwear.

Y/N gasped at the feeling of Steve’s left thumb and forefinger slightly push into her opening at the same time.

He pulled the hand out and inspected it, watching her juices gleam in the light from their lamp. Steve let out a huge smirk, realizing that all of this was because of him. “One for me.” He licked off the index finger. “And one for you.”

Y/N glanced at the dripping thumb hesitantly, realizing that Steve expected her to suck off her own juices.

“C’mon, babydoll. Open up.” He urged, bringing the digit closer to her mouth. “Be a good girl for your daddy.”

And there it was, the final word. After their intense discussion, Y/N was relatively sure that he would say it sometime or another. But actually hearing him, in his deep, husky voice call himself ‘daddy’, she was pretty sure that she could cum right then and there.

So, Y/N did what she was told and opened up, taking his thick thumb in her mouth. Her juices were kind of sweet, a little tangy, but the real turn on was Steve’s facial expression as he watched her do it. He looked so turned on and it made her proud, as all she wanted was to be good for him.

Y/N released his thumb with a quiet ‘pop’ and licked her lips.

“My girl is such a good listener, doing exactly what her daddy tells her.” Steve praised, watching her pupils dilate by his every word.

“Thank you.” She said to him, voice becoming much smaller than it was earlier, a fact that Steve picked up on.

“‘Thank you’ who?”

“Thank you, daddy.” Y/N smiled, glad that Steve seemed to be enjoying this as much as she was. At least, that’s what the hard evidence pressed against her inner thigh said.

“Hmm... what am I ‘gonna do with you tonight?” He smirked, trying to formulate their evening plans in his head. This was Y/N’s first time completely opening up to him, and Steve wanted to make it perfect. “On your knees, baby girl.”

She did exactly as he told her, getting on the carpeted floor with no complaints. Steve was taking to this dominant role very well, and though it didn’t surprise her, it delighted her to no end.

He dropped his brown leather belt to the floor, before pulling down his khakis and boxer briefs, kicking them off of his ankles.

Y/N, once again, stared wide eyed at his huge erection, the size never ceasing to amaze her.

“You know what to do, baby.” Steve nodded down at her, watching as she opened her mouth wide and took him in. The feeling of the warm opening made him groan, throwing his head back. “Fuck, Y/N.”

She continued to bob her head up and down, taking enjoyment to the feeling of Steve’s big hands weaving themselves into her hair. He was forcing himself further down her throat, and she welcomed every inch.

Y/N wrapped her hands around his dick, as well, rubbing all of the areas that her mouth couldn’t reach. She could feel Steve beginning to fall apart inside of her, tasting his salty precum.

“Oh, god. Sweetie, stop, stop, stop.” He reluctantly pulled Y/N off of him, knowing that if she continued as she did, he’d cum too early.

“Did I mess up, daddy?” She asked, big E/C eyes staring up at him.

“Quite the opposite, princess.” Steve leaned down to pick up Y/N from under the arms, and placed her on the large bed. “You were so good, that daddy wants to reward you.”

He slipped off her panties, immediately licking a stripe up her pussy. “Oh, god. D-Daddy, that feels so nice.” She moaned, subconsciously tightening her thighs around his head. Steve’s hands decided to roughly grasp them, pulling her opening even closer to his stubbled cheeks.

His warm tongue rotated between circling her clit and teasing her opening, a fact that made Y/N’s hands claw at the stark white sheets. “I-I’m ‘gonna-“

“You’re ‘gonna what?” Steve questioned, taking a small pause from lapping at her core before immediately going back to it. The taste of her on his tongue was just too tempting. “Use your big girl words, babydoll.” He rasped against her clit, the vibrations arousing her even more.

“C-Cum. I’m ‘gonna cum.” Y/N stuttered out, hands grasping his blonde locks. And without warning, her hot, sticky juices flooded Steve’s mouth. He made sure to lick up every delicious drop, before standing up and throwing off his shirt.

Steve glanced down at his mess of a girlfriend on the bed, admiring his work. Y/N’s dress was bunched up around her hips, her cheeks flushed red, and hair strewn. But to him, she never looked more gorgeous.

“Tired, baby?” Steve basically taunted, knowing that he was going to wreck her even more no matter what her answer was.

Y/N nodded in response, the heavy breathing not allowing her to do much more.

“Well,” he began to crawl up the bed, getting closer to her, “that’s too bad, because daddy’s not done with you yet.”

Y/N inhaled a breath as Steve harshly lifted the dress over head, chucking it on the ground. He grabbed her waist and flipped her over, sending a hard smack to her bare ass.

“You going to be a good girl and take daddy’s cock?” He grunted in her ear before stepping away to grab a condom from the beside table, putting it on.

“Yes, daddy.” Y/N whined, lightly pushing her bottom against his member when he moved closer, practically begging for him to give it to her.

“That’s what I thought.” Steve stated, and without warning, pushed inside of her dripping hole. “Fuck, baby girl.” He groaned at the feeling of her walls around him.

Steve began to thrust in and out of her at a brutal pace, the sight of her being helpless beneath him making him uncontrollable. He reached one hand around their bodies and began to play with her breasts, hearing Y/N moan even louder.

Her face met the bedding, having a hard time keeping herself up as he fucked her from behind. Steve’s thick member was hitting all of the right spots of inside of her, and each time he squeezed her nipples, she felt even closer to cumming.

“D-Daddy.” Y/N mewled, feeling his other hand move southern to her clit. The combined stimulation of him touching her breasts, clitoris, and pounding into her vagina was all too much. So with a high pitched moan, she came for the second time that night.

“Damn, little girl. You’re going to make daddy cum.” Steve growled in her ear, leaning down to leave sloppy kisses on her upper back.

Y/N, knowing that he was on edge, used all of the power that she could muster to give his cock and particularly strong clench. She began to grind her hips back into his, finally triggering his release.

“Fuck, doll.” Steve spoke as he came inside of the condom, heavier than he’s ever cum before.

The couple stayed in position, panting, for a minute before he slowly pulled out of her. Y/N immediately collapsed on the bed as Steve threw out the used condom, joining her quickly after.

“Wow.” She breathed out, turning over on her back. “You were really good at that dominant daddy thing.”

Steve lightly chuckled. “Well, strategizing is what I do best.”

Y/N finally moved on her side to face him, grabbing his left hand in her right one. “I’m so sorry, Steve, about what you found out earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shook his head with a sigh, rubbing her palm with the pads of his fingers.

She retracted her hand and leaned up on her elbow, looking in to his shiny blue eyes. “No, no. You shouldn’t have had to hear it and I definitely shouldn’t have said it. It was disrespectful to you and I’m very sorry.” Y/N’s other hand stroked his arm, trying to express how apologetic she was really feeling. “Our first time together was one of the best nights of my whole life. And vanilla or not, I truly love having sex with you.”

Steve leaned up on his elbow as well, giving her his full attention. “Listen, baby. The way I’m looking at it, if that wouldn’t have happened, this wouldn’t have happened. So I more than forgive you. I love you, Y/N.” He tucked a stray H/C hair behind her ear. “And I will be your ‘daddy’ as long as you want me to.”

 She giggled and gave him a nod. “I love you too.”

The pair laid down flat on their backs, and Steve pulled Y/N into his side. They simply relaxed in each other’s company, thankful to even have these small moments of tranquility in their busy lives. The room smelt of sweat, sex, and love, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So,” Steve interrupted the silence with a sly grin, “another round?”

Ah, that damn super soldier stamina was going to be the death of her.

Next Chapter

Feedback is always welcome!❤️

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #256

song lyrics here.

Would you date someone who still lived with their parents? Well considering I still live with my mother, I'd be quite the hypocrite if otherwise. Are you a generous person? I personally think so. Do you have a close relationship with your family? With my mom, extremely. Do you think there is life on other planets? Well, define "life," I suppose. Bacteria, stuff like that that science defines as life, yes. Complex life, I don't know. Would you enjoy a night of playing video games? Fuck yeah. Are you sexually attracted to any inanimate objects? ???? No. Would you watch a porno with your partner? UH NO I'm personally not at all interested in porn, and I feel it'd be awkward anyway? Have you ever stolen from your work? No. How much does intelligence turn you on? I guess like your average person that finds intelligence attractive. Do you ask someone out or wait for them to ask you? History shows it varies. Do you own any sex toys? No. Do you talk about your sex life with either of your parents? Well I don't have one now, but historically, I very timidly have with my mom about something. Generally though, I don't. I keep that very private. Do you search someone on the Internet before a first date? No. How often do you use Facebook at work? I'm unemployed. Do you enjoy television or movies better? That's hard, but maybe movies. I don't really watch either, but movies, when they have a good plot, are usually more enjoyable. Would you consider donating your body to science after you die? Sure thing. I personally want to donate my organs and have the rest cremated, though. Are you a romantic person? Yeah. Would you be okay with your partner hanging with their ex as friends? It would seriously depend on the depth of their relationship, where they're hanging out, how long... that kind of stuff. I am very serious about letting your partner have friends, including w/ the gender they're interested in, so I try to be open-minded here. Are you careful with your money? It's hard to even say with how seldom I have any. Do you like to be friends with someone before dating them? Absolutely. Do you like soccer? No. Is it more fun to go out just with your date or on a group date? Depends. I'd say I USUALLY prefer uhhh... single dates? How often do you go dancing/clubbing? Never. Is marriage a necessity for two people who love each other? Uh, no. Do you meditate? No. Have you ever been fired from a job? No. Is there anything you think science will never be able to explain? The soul. Do you cook fancy meals for dates? I don't cook. You don't want me to. Is intoxication ever an acceptable excuse for acting stupid? Fuck no. Do you believe in an afterlife? Probably. Do you litter? NO. Would you have sex with someone hot who you hated? nO????????????? Do you have a career plan? Kinda, but who knows when the fuck that's coming true. Do you mostly cook your own meals? Well, I mostly microwave stuff. I never use the stove or oven. Could you live with someone who was really messy? To a certain degree, no. Do you believe in fate or destiny? No. Have you ever had sex with someone you worked with? No. Would you date someone just for the sex? Nope. Have you ever had a one night stand? No. Have you ever lied about the number of sexual partners you’ve had? No. Are sex and intimacy the same thing? "Sex is just one example of intimacy. There’s other ways to be intimate, including ones that don’t involve being sexual at all." <<<< Exactly this. Have you ever played strip poker? No. How often do you get angry? "I’m someone who gets irritated, moody, upset, and frustrated often, but not angry." <<<< Also this. Do you consider yourself an emotional person? VERY MUCH SO. Is work important to you? Considering how harshly I shit on myself for not having a job, most certainly. Have you had cosmetic surgery? No. On a first date do you pay or do they? In every experience but with Sara, they did. I only paid on Sara's and my first date out of trickery lmao. Do you only date people who have jobs or are full-time students? No. Could you date someone who does drugs? Nope. Medical marijuana is fine, though. Have you ever been to a sex shop? No. Have you ever had a threesome? Nah. Do you enjoy discussing politics? Noooo. Would you do a striptease for your partner? WHOA I would feel WAY too awkward gd. Would you date someone who doesn’t have a car? Yeah. Is it wrong to watch porn if you’re in a relationship? That depends on the people in it. Some mind, some don't. Idk how I'd feel it if was my partner. Do you think men should pay for everything on dates? Hi, it's 2020. Women don't need to be "taken care of." Would you tie up a partner if they asked you to do so? Yeah. Have you ever had sex in a public place? No. Would you date someone twice your age? No. Should a child caught masturbating be punished? It'd be weird at a certain age, but no. It's normal to explore sexuality and what you like, and perhaps even more importantly, it's way better for you to let your sexual urges out privately versus... you know. Being forceful on others. Do you tell your friends you love them? Of course!! Maybe it's just how I was brought up, but I've always gotten kinda confused when (particularly good) friends don't. Love is platonic just as much as it is romantic, and you should let people know! Do you like playing tic-tac-toe? I mean, I guess? What about hangman? It's more fun than the former. Did you play hopscotch when you were younger? Yeah. Did your older sibling ever tell you freaky stories that you believed? I remember at least one. Do you have a yahoo account? It exists, but I haven't touched it in an eternity. I don't even remember the password. Are you a violent person? Definitely not. Do your siblings dye their hair? Not really. They occasionally get highlights, though. Do you still have any of your exes’ stuff? Besides gifted stuff, no. I think. Who can you best relate to in the last book you read? That I finished, Clay. Because he's dumb and hungry. Are you indecisive? Unbelievably. Do you collect anything? What? Meerkat and Silent Hill stuff. What are you listening to? An Emzotic video. I'm like,,, hooked on her stuff. I've been on a MASSIVE animals video binge lately, and she's a FUCKING MOOD. What was the last compliment someone gave you? Idr. What are your pets’ names? Roman and Venus. Gah, I need more bbz. What did your first best friend look like? Last I've seen a picture of her, she was a somewhat bigger person with long, curly brown hair, and she's always been very tan. Did you have a role model growing up? Steve Irwin. If you could learn how to play one instrument, what would it be? Guitar. Is your best friend dating anyone? Do you like them? No. Do you want to move? Very badly, and we probably are soon. Do you have a big family? My extended family is giant. Do you want more or less siblings? I'm happy with what I have. What is your idea of perfect happiness? Great contentment in all I do. Surrounded by love, changing the world in even tiny ways, etc. What is the trait you most deplore (dislike) in yourself? I realized it semi-recently and honestly don't want to share it. Only my old therapist knows, I think. Besides that one, the fact I'm very impulsive with words when I'm upset, probably. What is your greatest extravagance? I'm really creative and passionate. What do you consider the most overrated virtue? Probably the glorification of virginity. I would know. It was a MASSIVE DEAL for most of my teenage years. On what occasion do you lie? When it's a thing where I feel it's just better to not be honest. Now I honor honesty a lot, so I avoid it as much as possible, but no, I don't believe it's always the best policy. What do you most dislike about your appearance? My weight. Which living person do you most despise? I don't know about one specific person. The traumatized part of me says Jason's friend that encouraged him to break up with me, but I know I rightfully shouldn't even dislike him, save for the fact he was pretty arrogant. What or who is the greatest love of your life? I don't know. When and where were you the happiest? Well, it depends. If you mean in a specific moment of most intense happiness, lots of times with Jason. An extended period of happiness, early into recovery when I lived with Colleen. What do you consider your greatest achievement? Recovering from the breakup. If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be? A house cat. Seems like a pretty good life. What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? At least from my experiences, harsh rejection when you try your best to please that person. What do you value most in your friends? As far as a sweeping characteristic they all share, the will to listen and just be there for me in times I really need companionship. Who are your favorite writers? I don't really have favorites. Who is your hero of fiction? Hm, I dunno. Which historical figure do you most identify with? Uhhhh I also don't really know. I'm not enough of a history buff for this. Who are your heroes in real life? I answer this enough. What are your favorite names? Alessandra and Severin. Do you like watching reruns? No. What do you think is worth waiting for? Deep relationships. Should parenting classes be mandatory for new parents? No. What is the number one thing people are always asking you for help with? English/writing. What movie did you love the original but hated the sequel to? I remember the Ghost Rider sequel was nothing compared to the original. It was okay, but. Are you more talk and less action or vice versa? More talk. Have you ever given someone a handmade present? Yeah, especially as a kid. What type of person angers you the most? Probably those who can't put their pride aside for anything. What do you think should be a wonder of the world that currently isn’t? I don't even know what they all are to get a proper grasp on the question. What comforts you on bad days? My mom and Sara, sleep, YouTube, sometimes regrettably food, etc. Do you treat yourself and your body with respect? Not very well. Something you eat that other people would find gross. *shrugs* Nothing that's too weird. Have you ever broken the law and didn’t get caught, if so how? Yeah, and obviously by not screaming it to the world, but also because none are massive. Something you fear might change you. The aftermath of heartbreak. It still affects me today and makes me see less hope in love. What personality trait in people raises a red flag with you? Volatility. Have you ever resented someone, if so what for? "Stealing" Jason, and the other person for accusing me something of so fucking selfish and vile I don't even like saying it, especially when she was my damn therapist that I loved and trusted. How old do you think is too old to have a baby? "Old enough that getting pregnant would cause significant harm to you or the baby." <<<< How have you changed over the last five years? I've definitely become wiser and more open-minded. Have you ever painted a house? Nope. Have you ever had a surprise party (that was an actual surprise)? No. What makes you feel miserable? Eating badly (particularly too much sugar makes me feel shitty), doing nothing/extended boredom. What’s the best costume you’ve ever worn? Don't have a clue. What’s been the hardest loss you’ve had to take? Jason. A loss without actual death is, wow, awful. I mean death is too, but holy shit it hurts when that person chooses to leave you. Do you like sunny days or rainy days more? Depends on the temperature and my mood. Who is your favorite movie director and what’s your favorite movie from them? Tim Burton, of course. Alice In Wonderland. What is the furthest you’ve ever got a paper airplane to fly? Not very far. Nothing impressive. Do you like the person you are becoming? It depends on the context. Honestly, by this point, not really. What’s the highest you’ve ever jumped into the water from? Not high at all. What inspires your ideas? More than anything, music. Just a single lyric, sometimes one word, spawns a sometimes very complex concept. Have you ever assembled furniture by yourself? No. Have you ever bolstered your resume to get a job you really wanted? No. I have a really, really hard time lying for a job. Have you ever had an internship, if not what would be your dream intern job? No. Do you prefer chicken, beef, or seafood? Chicken. Have you ever had a health scare? Yes. What do or did you hate the most about dating or the dating process? Opening up again. What do you frown upon when it comes to raising kids? Spanking. Have you ever been professionally photographed? Yeah. Do you influence people more than they influence you? I very much doubt that. If you could ask one person, alive or dead, only one question, what would you ask? If he regrets me. Do you buy anything organic, if so, what is it? I don't think so? What was the name of the first album you ever bought and who was it by? I believe it was You're Awful, I Love You by Ludo. Do you have any prejudices you’ve admitted to yourself? No. Who is the very first friend you ever remember making and how old were you? Brianna; I was two. What makes you lose sleep? Stress. Anxiety. PTSD. Do you floss or use a toothpick when food gets stuck in your teeth? I floss. Have you ever made out in a bathroom? Pretty sure that's a negative. Ever physically fought with member of the opposite sex? YIKES no. Well, besides playfighting. Ever walked in on your friends having sex? No. Ever kissed a friend’s crush? No. Has anyone ever called cops on you? No. Do you swallow gum when you’re finished? Noooo that's so uncomf. Ever tackled someone to the ground? Not in a way that was a harsh fall. More like a crumbling to the floor. Where was the last place you fell asleep other than your bed? Hm. Maybe in the school library, but I doubt that, really. I don't think I ever actually fell asleep. Did the last person you kiss have piercings? No. Did your parents spoil you as a child? No. Have you ever had alcohol poisoning? No. Ever thrown up in public? Yes. Has anyone laid on your bed besides you? Yes. What bothers you more, when people lie or when people complain? Depends on the severity. I think lying is more hurtful, though. How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now? Three. Who took your profile picture on Facebook? Me. Do you sleep on a certain side of the bed? More towards the left. Has anyone ever drunk called/texted you? No. Would you ever date anyone your parents disapproved of? Yeah. I'd consider their reasonings, of course, but it's my decision.

[queenofthecommunistcannibals]

@yikes-trademarked

i mean yeah, the post has nothing to do with it just comes across as a bit of a slap in the face to people who are genuinely oppressed in a modern day society. how are asexuals ‘neglected’ and ‘isolated’? so most people experience sexual attraction and you don’t, whoop de doo. nobody actually cares if you do or don’t experience sexual attraction. if you could please give me an actual, real life, not someone-calling-you-a-plant-online example of asexual discrimination then i’ll take back my words

___

@yikes-trademarked I super love how instead of apologizing you are doubling down. Okay. I'll give you examples. Here are some general prejudices that affect aro and ace people. They aren't in any real order.

•Until the DSM V asexuality was considered a mental illness. Despite the fact that now we are "allowed" to "identify" as asexual HSDD (Hypoactive sexual desire disorder) is STILL considered a disorder. So instead of trying to help a person accept themselves as asexual allosexual (nonace) doctors will try to "fix" someone if they want to. Asexuality is still seen as something to be cured. It is still a dysfunction in their eyes, they just hide their prejudice a little better.

•Asexuals have been harrassed and raped in an attempt to fix them. Asexuals and aromantics are often seen as a "challenge" to be harassed into affection.

•Mainstream Christianity discriminates against asexuals as they do other queer identities. Here is one quote from a document called "Asexuality and Christianity" produced for Asexual Awareness Week (the fact that we get "awareness" rather than "pride" ain't great either)

"While celibacy is officially considered a good stance in religion, declaring oneself disinterested in sex is often met with disapproval. Asexuals have been told that they are rejecting God's gift of sexuality, that they are just as bad as homosexuals because they are not 'normal'...or people decide to pray to God for them to be fixed or for the Almighty to send the right person for them to fall in love with."

Or from the horse's mouth "Question: What do you call a person who is asexual? Answer: Not a person. Asexual people do not exist. Sexuality is a gift from God and thus a fundamental part of our human identity. Those who repress their sexuality are not living as God created them to be: fully alive and well." This was written by two Jesuit priests David Nantais and Scott Opperman. In other religions this is also often true. I know more about Christianity personally but I know similar doctrines exist in Islam and Orthodox Judaism. Not to mention the notion that marriage is the only acceptable option in these religions (unless you are Catholic clergy) and children are a necessity. Hell, according to the conservative traditional gender roles of these religions even an otherwise gender conforming aro/ace doesn't fit (not marrying, no kids, no family, all that).

•Dehumanization from all sides. We are told to be human is to love and that love is nearly always put in romantic or sexual context. Indeed NOT being capable of or experiencing romantic or sexual love is often used as shorthand for someone being a bad person (As Dexter [from Dexter], for example, becomes more sympathetic he develops the ability to feel sexual/romantic love. Robots in fiction can be asexual and aromantic but only if you want to show them as apart from humanity. Once you want to make it clear they have a soul they have to experience some kind of romantic urge or longing. Like Data from Star Trek) An article in Psychology Today by Dr. Gordon Hodson Ph.D. (who specializes in studying dehumanization) postulates (with a study to back it up) that asexuals are the most dehumanized sexual minority.

•On the specifically romantic asexual front in many places do not consider a marriage valid until it has been consumated.

•In media in which asexuality and aromanticism are not proof of evil they are judged to be not real. Here is one of if not our first actual representation in media. In the film Nymphomaniac the SELF-PROCLAIMED asexual character turns out to be a rapist who the protagonist murders in what is supposed to be a "woo! You go girl!" moment. AT BEST this says asexuals aren't real. We're just sexually repressed misanthropes. It might also imply that asexuals are base animals who are waiting to strike. THAT IS ONE OF THE FEW TIMES THE WORD ASEXUAL IS EVEN USED IN MAINSTREAM FILM! I cannot think of a single other.

•We are erased constantly in real life and in media. Here are two examples of active erasure, Jughead Jones (canonly aro/ace in the comics and coded as such since day one) was straight-washed for Riverdale. You may say "oh maybe they didn't know" (which is bullshit) then consider example two: Sherlock Holmes. Holmes (who I adore) has long been one of the few characters that has been "allowed" to aro/aces, but when the creators of BBC's Sherlock were explicitly asked if he was aro/ace they said he absolutely wasn't.

This is part of what I am talking about. We are not allowed to exist. We are invisible.

•Asexuals and aromantics are somehow toxic in our mere existence. We make kids think it is okay to be like us and are poisoning their young minds. We hate sex and thus are against the sex positivity movement.

•"Virgin" is an insult and we are treated as constant children. Somehow we have failed to grow up and cannot be treated as adults.

•And here is what I was really talking about SOCIETY IS NOT MADE FOR US! CULTURE IS NOT CONDUSIVE TO OUR EXISTENCES! I didn't know asexuality was an option until I was about 24. And before that I, like many aro/ace people, put myself in a lot of situations and relationships to "fix" myself. To make myself normal. My first and only sexual encounter was one of the things that sent me spiralling into a serious depression. I didn't know that it was okay to not be interested and to say "no.". So I said "okay" because I thought it was what I had to do to be a normal teenager. I don't know if I ever shared that online before so congrats you got me so mad I revisited my personal trauma. From childhood we are told falling in love is the ultimate reward. As teens we are told we gotta get laaaaaid. As adults not being involved in a sexual/romantic (often indistinguishable) relationship is WEIRD and TROUBLING. I have been told by people who don't know I am asexual that asexual people are "too weird" or even "creepy." The idea that someone might not be capable of romantic love sets off people's red flags that said aromantic might be crazy.

•We are surrounded by sex and romance constantly. Constantly. It is inescapable. In your real life I want you to pay attention to romantic or sexual imagry and storylines around you. There is no break. No alternative. This is what I mean by "invisible at best."

•Also, we are denied a history. It is very hard to prove absence but often sexless figures are immediately dubbed to be gay/lesbian because of their lack of interest in "appropriate" gender. Forgetting entirely that asexuality and aromanticism are options. Then when the question is raised they maybe a figure WAS aro and/or ace we are told that we are """"stealing"""" history. There is like one person in history we are allowed: Nikola Tesla. I love him very much, but he also fits the bill as a weirdo asexual. Because anyone who was the least bit acceptable to society must be allosexual. An example in reverse, Queen Elizabeth I, Britain's most beloved monarch, who never married, never was romantically or sexually involved with anyone (aside from being assaulted as a teenager), and was in her era very famously THE VIRGIN QUEEN who used her virginity as part of her persona to great affect. She is not considered asexual or aromantic and never has been. I have seen a biographer bend over backwards to get away from that accusation including using an incident where an elderly Elizabeth flashed a dignitary to make him uncomfortable as proof that she was allo. We can't have this awesome historical figure be one of those creeps right?!

•i am not even going into the history of how "sexlessness" was historically treated, especially in women. Let me just say that "spinsterism" was considered a danger to children and young women.

•NOTICE I WENT THIS WHOLE POST WITHOUT MENTIONING ASSHOLES WHO USE THE DISK HORSE AND BAR US FROM QUEER CIRCLES EVEN THOUGH SOME STUDIES FIND ASEXUALS HAVE LOWER SELF ESTEEM THAN ANY OTHER QUEER GROUP AND WOULD REALLY BENEFIT FROM A COMMUNITY!! THIS POST IS ENTIRELY EXAMPLES OF NON ONLINE PEOPLE BECAUSE SOMEHOW YOUR CONSTANT ABUSE OR REFUSAL TO RECOGNIZE ABUSE IS A-OKAY BECAUSE IT IS PART OF "THE DEBATE" BECAUSE SOMEHOW OUR EXISTENCE IS ACCEPTABLE DEBATE!

These are just some examples. People are free to add more but I am tired. If you want links I will dig them up.

Sincerely,

Fuck you.

I apologize for the "fuck you" but the exclusionist attitude is so disheartening. It is bad for not only aros and aces but also the queer community in general. We should be in this together! Fighting for one another side by side! We should be there for each other for hardships and for celebrations. I think it is vital that exclusionists really examine what and who they are actually fighting against.

[modernlcve]

*  —  stats —   rory hanna !

* — basics !

full name:   aurora catherine hanna. nickname(s):   answers exclusively to rory. age:   twenty-one. date of birth:   august twenty-fifth. place of birth:   carina bay,   north carolina gender:   female. pronouns:   she / her. sexual orientation:   bisexual. level of education:   high school graduate. pursuing a degree in journalism and political science.

* — physical !

tattoos:   she’s genuinely one bad day away from getting a grl pwr tattoo but for now.  none. piercings:   ears pierced twice. notable features:   she got a cute lil nose. weakness(es):  restless legs. scar(s):   one in her hairline on the center of her forehead.

* — domestic !

occupation:   student.   residence:  she lives in the house with mr. hanna. social class:   solidly middle class. parents:   she’s closer with mr. hanna,   she always felt more pressured to be a High Achiever by their mother and it kinda screwed stuff up for them. siblings:   she considers austin one of her Best Friends even if she’d never say it to his face.   she’s more apt to make fun of aubrey but ultimately does really like having a dorkass big sister. extended family:   i should ask what u think but.   nah.

* — personality !

positive traits:   quick-witted.   driven.   confident. negative traits:   snide.   bitter.   obstinate. myers-briggs ( x ):   istj;   the logistician. temperament:   choleric. moral alignment:   neutral good. horoscope:   virgo,   the virgin. hogwarts house:  ravenclaw.

* — favorites !

movie:   beetlejuice. tv show:   orange is the new black. book:   pride & prejudice. drink:   vanilla chai latte. food:   sour gummy worms. animal:   cats. color:   red. song:   landslide by fleetwood mac. artist:   lorde. celebrity crush:   hozier.

* — impressions !

first impression:  she’s purposely a little off putting.   she’s dry and sarcastic,   and,   as we been know,   doesn’t crack a smile for just anyone.   the big exception to this is in a more professional setting.   at school,   she’s much better at small talk and forcing a smile.   it’s why she’s sure to keep the two worlds separate. self impression:   she knows that ultimately,   she’s smart and capable and handling her shit.   but she’s still a person,   and one with very high expectations for herself,   which every now and then takes a toll on her. lover impression:   she keeps her circle small,   but if you get in - especially this far in - she’ll ride or die for you.   she’s not the type for big romantic gestures or getting too mushy,   but all the same,   she’s dedicated to people that show up for her.

* — et cetera !

turn ons:   confidence.   intelligence.   spontaneity. turn offs:   arrogance.   spinelessness.   condescending tones. drink/drugs/smoke:   yes/weed/no. dominant hand:   right. clean or messy:   clean. early bird or night owl:   night owl. hobbies or special talents:   yeah she learned how to skateboard and longboard in her pursuit of being a Cool Girl.

* — QUESTIONNAIRE !

01. where was your character born? what brought them to carina? what do they like most about the town?

rory was born in carina.   she’s planning her escape,   but she’s not really in a huge hurry to get out of town.   if anything,   she’s scared to leave.   she likes being a big fish in a little pond.   she likes feeling in control of a familiar environment.   the idea of leaving the nest and failing is terrifying to her. 

02. who are your character’s friends and family? who do they surround themselves with? who are the people your character is closest to?

rory’s relationship with her family has changed in the past year or so.   she’s always been close to austin and that much hasn’t changed.   she used to be closer to their mom,   even if their relationship was a little messed up,   but with everything that’s happen,   she’s taken the opportunity to be a little shit to her.   she’s more defensive of their dad now than ever,   having watched him work through all this.   she’s trying to reconnect with aubrey,   and rely on her as the Big Feminine Influence in her life,   but it’s a process.   she hangs out with The Crew,   but is notably close with the parrish twins.   she’s probably closest with Austin but seth is a close second.

03. what is your character’s biggest fear? who have they told this to? who would they never tell this to? why?

again rory’s biggest fear is that she’s just like.   a really cool girl for carina but when she gets into the real world she’s not gonna be worth shit.   she wants to ditch the idea of law school and pursue journalism full time,   she wants to get out there and live and write and be someone,   but there’s a nagging fear that it’s not the big smart plan her and her mom made when she was a freshman in high school and she’s gonna fail and be useless.   if she’s told this to anyone,   it’d probably be seth,   but i don’t think they’re the type to dwell on stuff like that.   it’s more like spewing random Red Flag bullshit and then moving on forever?

04. has your character ever been in love? had a broken heart?

rory has been Aggressively telling herself that she wasn’t actually in love with seth since he turned her down.   but regardless of if she was or not,   he definitely broke her heart for a hot minute there.   she really felt like she was putting herself out on a limb there but,   deep down,   part of her really expected things to work out.   she’s repressed it all pretty well by now,   but for a while,   it just stung and she was embarrassed to have poured her heart out like that only to be rejected.  it’s why she spent some time so gung ho on getting out there and dating around and trying to find a new path,   but nothing really took.   she’s currently sworn off relationships,   at least until she graduates,   but again,   there’s just one little part of her that would break that rule,   under the right circumstances.

06. it’s saturday at noon. what is your character doing? give details.

she’s probably holed up in her room.   maybe studying,   maybe just being around the house and goofing off.   she funnels a lot of her free time into school work,   but likes to take a chunk of time off on the weekends to decompress.   she either spends it watching something on netflix or hanging out with her Pals.

07. what is one strong memory that has stuck with your character since childhood?

rory really vividly remembers a day when she was in elementary school and she got to sit in on a couple of her mom’s classes because no one could Watch her one afternoon not because the classes were amazing but because,   even if it was just in a small talky way,   she bragged on her,   in a way that made her feel so competent and grown up like.   hell yeah i read at an 8th grade level and kick ass at brainteasers :nailcare:   close second would b the time in middle school some Prep called her one fucked up biotch at lunch and seth threatened 2 kick his ass for her honor that meant a Lot

09. what is something that upsets your character? where do they go when they’re upset?

rory gets overwhelmed thinking about school and her life beyond it.   when she’s upset,   she’s probably got some lame spot around the cove on some little hillside where she can sit and watch the ocean and just Decompress for a minute or alternatively face the other way and watch all the tourists on the beach just enjoying a special day.   it helps her zone out and avoid things just long enough to move on.

10. when your character thinks of their childhood kitchen, what smell do they associate with it? why?

yeah i thought the pizza night thing was really cute so im just going to Echo that.   while she’s always been the Rebel of the family she does lowkey miss when things were Easier and the biggest conflict between them was whether or not sausage was a valid topping to spring for.

[nonchalantltd]

Am I a Lesbian? Coming Out Stories

As we continue through Pride Month, we wanted to share some more coming out stories with you. Following in the same vein as Am I a Lesbian? Coming Out Stories, we caught up with more of the Nonchalant team and contributors to find out about their ‘coming out’ experiences in Part 2 of Am I a Lesbian.

First girl on girl experience with my boss

“My first girl on girl experience actually happened after my first official date with a girl… (aged 18) that girl also happened to be my boss.

My first gay experience was actually a year or so earlier where I had kissed an old friend that I had got close to and that (I knew was gay and was intrigued…) it freaked me out, and lost my head a bit for a while.

Back to the coming out…After getting close to my boss at my summer job who was in her early 20s, she invited me out on a date… played down by drinks/food at the pub.

She picked me up in her convertible car and off we went…When I returned home, we sat outside my mum’s house chatting away in the car, you know the kind of chats when minutes turn to hours and you don’t want to leave… it was exciting.

Anyways, unbeknownst to me, my mum had clocked this and wondered who I was with… none of my school friends had a convertible car… we had just left the 6th form and all drove around in Saxo’s.

We had a quick nervous kiss goodbye and I went inside probably smiling like a Cheshire Cat. When I got inside, my mum’s bf at the time said… ‘Your mum’s upstairs and she wants to talk to you…’ I asked what about and he just said, ‘Go and speak to her…’ so, up I went, to find her sat on the bed looking quite concerned. She asked who I had been out with and I said just a friend, someone from work… this went around and around for a while.

Whilst she asked who this friend was and how I knew them.. it got to the point where she was bored of my avoidance answers that she blurted out, ‘was it a date?’ I started getting emotional and said yes it was, but I wasn’t sure what it was, or how I was feeling and that it was the first time we had even been out, so it felt a bit weird for me to say that maybe I am gay, when I don’t know yet. I think I might have even said I was Bi to soften the blow.

Silly! And that was that.

Mum was emotional, I was emotional and I can’t really remember what was said, we have different accounts of the story but she did hug me.

Things got a bit weird as we navigated through the next few weeks and we argued and clashed. I was still seeing the girl without my mums’ knowledge. And then my mum went on holiday for 3 weeks. When she returned, the girl and I were now in a relationship and the strangeness between my mum and I continued until I went off to uni in the autumn.

I am now 31 and my mum is very much accepting of who I am. She’s a total legend in fact and loves my partner but she can’t deny things were a bit rocky for a while whilst we both navigated through our feelings after that sort of ‘coming out’ chat.

I didn’t have the chance to tell my dad, my brother blurted it out during the summer and when I went round to see him, my dad simply asked ‘so, who’s this girl you’re seeing then?’ I was so speechless. I just showed him a photo and he said…’ she’s pretty, are you happy?’ And I said yeah and that was it. (Still convinced he knew something was going on with the childhood friend a couple of years before but never said…) So all in all, my story is a lucky one. My Parents were mostly cool.”

A constant battle

“I think I was about 14 when I started fantasizing about women: mainly Rihanna and Katy Perry. It wasn’t I kissed a girl that led me to Katy, it was her song Birthday. I used to dream about being at her concert on my birthday and getting dragged on stage for a lap dance to that track.

I thought about boys a lot too, and my interest in boys was more grounded in the real world. I fancied a lot of boys at school and had a couple of boyfriends, the foundations for which were built on MSN.

There was always a constant battle in my mind though. I might like women sexually but it’s a man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I can’t be a lesbian because I don’t want to be a lesbian.

I remember at 15 a good friend and I wrote a list of 25 things we wanted to achieve in our lives. We both put ‘have a fling with a girl’ on our lists. I think I thought it was something I could experience and then move on from and live a ‘straight life’.

When I went to uni I fell in love with the guy in the dorm next to me and lost my virginity to him. He was on ‘study abroad’ and moved back to America after six months. We spent the next three years kind of together but not really.

I officially ended things when living in Spain on my year abroad and fell head over heels in love with a girl I was living with (I didn’t realize the living together thing was a theme until now)! She was, of course, straight and I never told her how I felt until a couple of years later, so it was a torturous time.

It was after that experience that I started to talk to friends and family about my sexuality. My friends were 100% supportive, more inquisitive than anything else. My Mam was accepting but she did talk a bit about ‘phases’ and ‘what people do in metropolitan cities’.

I sat with my woman-loving-self for a while but ultimately went back to dating men and got into a two-year relationship with one. I was happy for a while in the relationship, but it all changed when I joined a football team and ended up falling for one of my teammates.

I left my boyfriend not because my teammate wanted to be with me (she didn’t) but because I knew I shouldn’t be in the relationship if I had such strong feelings for someone else.

Following the heartbreak of being rejected by my teammate, I eventually ended up in my first gay relationship where something sparked in me. When it got serious I knew that was the time to ‘officially come out’. My Dad was the person I was most worried about telling, but his reaction was all I could have wished for: ‘you’re my daughter and I love you no matter what’. And he’s stayed true to his word.

Since then I’ve only been with women – though I have done a bit of Tinder talking with men here and there.

There are a lot of people that look at my life over the past few years and label me as a lesbian, but for me, it’s not that simple. I’m at a point where I think I could date any gender and be happy. I don’t want to sound cliché but ultimately it comes down to the person.

That’s if I was single… I’ve been with my girlfriend for almost two years now, and I definitely think this is the person – the one that’s going to last me a lifetime. “

  Know More: https://www.nonchalantmagazine.com/2020/am-i-a-lesbian-coming-out-stories-part-2/

[roidespd-blog]

Chapter Thirty : MY OWN STORY

This is the end of our journey. I could have ended it with a one-two punch Stonewall-Pride extravaganza but I’m going with a more personal coda, if you’ll indulge me.

A BOY’S OWN STORY

I haven’t always known I was Queer. I guess there were signs — how I would prefer to play with my sister’s barbies than with my own construction toys. How I could be extra sensitive with benign day-to-day details or the fact that by the age of five, I knew “Pour que tu m’aimes encore” by Céline Dion by heart. “So Alex, you’re a faggot, right ?”. That’s what a schoolmate said to me during recess. I said “No”. I was 10. I didn’t know. How did he know if I didn’t know ? Is sensitive a synonym for gay, even when you’re too young to even have pubic hair ?

I started masturbated at the age of 12 and it didn’t took long before my thoughts were directed towards the male body. I ignored it and pretended it was just my mind wandering in unexpected and irrelevant places. I would do my dirty business with La Redoute catalogues, looking at the male models in underwear then switch to their female counterparts at the very end when I knew I was close. Same thing with my imagination. Penelope Cruz was my go-to fantasy beard. I was ashamed of my sexual orientation. Worst, I was ashamed of it before I could understand it. That’s the tricky part : society doesn’t teach you how to be Queer but sure makes you aware that it’s not the norm.

I didn’t know what gay was. In movies, homosexuality was always depicted through huge clichés, what I called in my articles the “Cage aux Folles” dogma. I couldn’t identify. Or maybe I rejected the notion very quickly and swore never to approach this level of absurdity. Internalized homophobia before you even understand what internalized homophobia is.

I fell in love with my first boy when I was 14 years old. He was 2 years older, not that handsome (back then) and so unattainable. I’ve known that dude my whole life. For a long time, I said to myself that one-sided love wasn’t love. I do not believe that anymore. Feeling are valid whether they’re reciprocated or not. Of the five men I fell in love with in my life, only one didn’t love me back (and another is still TBD). But he’s the man I loved the most. The pain that followed was real and undeniable.

I didn’t act on my feelings towards boys until college. In high school, I told myself I wasn’t gonna do anything with anyone until I knew for sure what I was (laugh). I turned down a couple of great girls, one became one of my closest friend in this world. There was one incident involving a girl faking drunkenness in order to inspire pity and having her ways with me at a birthday party. I was… 15, I guess. I was not into it.

A shy boy, I socially bloomed in high school due to my involvement in drama classes and a new “fuck-the-world” attitude I cultivated through a longer hair cut and a collection of converses of every color imaginable.

The day I found out I graduated from high school, I went to town with a few friends. We (barely) drank and had our PG fun. There was this boy. I didn’t know him at all as he was a friend of a friend. I was very intrigued by him and made sure to present to him what I considered my best self (mute and mysterious, I guess). When it was time to go home, we all packed ourselves in my friend’s tiny car. There wasn’t enough space for all of us so the guy was lying on floor in the back, myself in the middle seat. I don’t know what got into me, but I started putting my fingers under his shirt and caressing his lower back. Gently, like an accident. When he didn’t react, I went further. That’s when I felt his fingers on my ankle. As I got to explore more of his back, he quickly went up my pants and caressed the entirety of my leg. So erotic, you have no idea. He was the first to go home. We didn’t exchange phone numbers but he sure helped me get IT. Once alone with my friends in the car, I said “I like boys”. That was it. The electricity I felt all around my body was unchallenging. No one was shocked. No one cared. Back to our regular scheduled programs.

HOW TO BE A GAY MAN IN FOUR LESSONS (OR MORE)

The first and only real mistake was trying to define myself through my sexuality.

My first boyfriend was… let’s call him Paul. Paul was the sweetest. A very short, very elfish (not healthy, ELFISH) little dude that tried his best to give me space in our relationship to explore myself. I said tried. I was willing to lose my virginity as a bottom but it wasn’t meant to be. I became a top. Oh, but it is a nice memory. It is so rare to be a gay man and lose one’s virginity in a good way. He introduced me to his friends who found me “too country” and “fat”. Do we have to talk to each other every day ? Are nicknames necessary ? Do I love you or do I prove constantly that I love you ? Coming from a broken father/son relationship, affection towards men wasn’t easy shit. Lust, yes (though a restrained version of what lust can be). Feelings were there but I found myself incapable of materializing them the way Paul wanted me too. I broke up with him. We got back together. He then broke up with me. Back together again. We called it quits soon after. Too many variables freaked me out. I was an 18 year-old who knew nothing, Jon Snow style.

I met a couple more guys, experimented with casual dating and hookups, bottomed (wasn’t my thing). Then I met Thomas — I’m not even going to invent a name. That bitch needs to be called out. I fell madly in love with Thomas. Five days in and we said “I love you” to each other. That relationship made me come out to my mom. I just didn’t realize that I was being manipulated into loving someone. He made an effort to be extra needy and to push my Superman complex to the max. After falling for him, he told me he visited several psychiatric facilities. He tried to hurt himself more times that I can honestly remember. By the time our relationship ended, I was more a nurse than a lover. I broke up with me after he cheated on me with someone else. But not just cheat. It went from a Friday night “I’m gonna see a friend for the weekend, it’s been a while since I saw him. It’s gonna do me some good” to a Monday morning phone call “Well, he wasn’t a friend. We slept together, now I love you both and I don’t know what to do”. I made it easy for him. By Monday night, pictures of him with the other boy was all over his Facebook page. Thomas broke me in pieces. And I’m not even gonna talk about me going to the police for harassment months later. Triste vie.

That’s when I became a whore.

Not immediately. It took a few weeks of crying to go in that direction but then I was full on. I quickly moved to another city and for the next three years or so, I slept with everything with a dick that moved. Short guys, tall guys, fat ones, skinny ones, effeminate dudes, masculine cunts, three ways, public, top, bottom, ALL. OF. IT. I was unable to feel anything for those guys (some were great and deserved a lot more) but damn, did I fuck them. All of them.

I learned a lot from that time period. First, I can be great at certain sexual things. Won’t tell you which ones. Second, it gave a lot of satisfaction mixed with a sense of true emptiness. I ignored the emptiness back then but I knew why I felt satisfaction. It wasn’t the orgasms. It was a feeling that I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do AKA being a gay guy having lots of sex. I saw it on TV. I saw it in porn. I knew it to be true. I was being the right kind of gay. 22 and still stupid enough to believe it.

When I moved to Paris, I fell in love twice. First with the city. Second with Pierre. In a way, he was the best of them all. Unfortunately, we met at the wrong time. Remember, I was a whore. Not that I cheated on him per say, but the need was there. Paris was giving me so much more land to cover. I met friends that partied hard. I started taking drugs. Lots of them. Festivities would last three days in a row. Sometimes four times a week. I lost 25 pounds just by being poor and high. Meanwhile, I was living a fantastic relationship with a somewhat adult man. I moved in with him for a couple of months. He was a painter and being with me helped him find inspirations. He bought me a note book and pushed me to start writing again, encouraged me to reach my full potential. But fuck my life, I had to make a choice : domesticity with this great guy (who had already been through what I was going through) or FPD (Friends/Party/Drugs). I broke his heart and entered a downward spiral. I went back to my whoring ways. I went all races, all ages, all sizes, just… all. I even was in a weird throuple for a few weeks. Drugs were taking a toll on my health and my friends weren’t supporting me the way I needed too. Six months after the break up, I reserved course. I cleaned my act, found a new job, moved into a new apartment by myself, cleared my phone from those friends’ numbers. This part of my life taught me two lessons : That I could be loved and valued for exactly who I was and that I could throw in all away for the sake of living that sweet Parisian Gay Life.

I met Jack at a time when my life was going really really well. I had been accepted at film school, I was making new friends from work, I had a perfectly stable life and newly-found good spirit. I do believe I inadvertently seduced him by singing Taylor Swift’s Blank Space at a party. I fell hard for that man. I viewed him as the perfect specimen, the epicenter of everyone I went through in the past seven years. I willingly gave him everything : a place to stay when he was looking for a new apartment, my time, my heart, my soul. I wasn’t able to keep anything for myself. It was all for him. Although I knew from the start that I was getting fucked, I didn’t care. He never loved me. Why ? That’s for another story and perhaps for him to tell you. He didn’t leave me heartbroken. He left me destroyed. To a point where I didn’t recognize myself. I’ll say it again : D.E.S.T.R.O.Y.E.D. That’s what happens when you give so much and receive so little in return. My friends had to pick up the pieces and didn’t know what to do with them. Neither did I. I went back to whoring for a short time but this time, it got dark, y’all. I fucked the wrong people. I put myself in the wrong situations. I took the wrong drugs. I kept on wrecking what was left of me.

LIFE IMITATES ART, ART IMITATES OTHER ART, ART IS ART, LIFE GOES WITH WITH FLOW.

For the following two years, all of that cured me of love and sex. I didn’t/couldn’t want either. I focused on my work.

I started writing and directing short films that talked about love between two men (a musical fantasy), how one can destroy oneself by not accepting who one is (a one-shot suicidal fantasy) and finally, a 16-minute movie about trying to figure out your place in the Queer world (my masterpiece, easy to say, right?).

In retrospect, what I couldn’t do in real life anymore (exploring and answering questions), I did it in fiction. In Faggot (and Other Semantics),there are themes of homophobia, internalized homophobia, clichés, dating apps, sex, violence and identity. I’m not saying it’s the greatest movie of all time, but it’s good. That’s why it’s so heartbreaking that I still haven’t finished it.

I used the excuse that I didn’t have enough money. Well, no I have some money put aside thanks to my friends. I though to myself that I was just lazy but fuck, I proved to myself this past month I wasn’t. So, I’m scared to finish it. Not just having to move on artistically (though it is a big part of the fear) but also, It’s kind of the end of a journey. Well, a big chapter anyway. The movie was made when I was the most wrecked version of myself. I touched subjects that are so personal to me and felt like I finally got some answers out of my questions. Finally…well, I don’t know. I went back to thinking I’m a lazy cunt.

Since then (two years), I did something every Queer person should do : I’ve explored our History. I started making research for Faggot back in 2016. I bought a couple of books, mainly “Faggots” written by Larry Kramer and “Le Rose et Le Noir” written by Frédéric Martel. The truth is, we don’t know our History. How can we ? History tried to erase us time and time again. And when real tragedy stroke, people who couldn’t have shared this History were let to die. Unlike all of the other communities, Queer people are not born into a Queer environment. Humans from all races and backgrounds are raised and can receive heritage from their peers. Some of that heritage are in books you get to read in school. What History book talks about Stonewall ? None. We, as Queer people, are cursed with the task of reinventing ourselves generation after generation. Is it so surprising then that we keep on losing ourselves along the way, trying to figure out our identity ? I had to go and search for information, nothing was giving to me openly. I’m so glad I did.

Learning our past taught me so much about how to live my present. That’s why I started to write these articles this June. I wanted to give my fellow Queers a metaphorical anchor to throw into this ocean we call Life so that they can take a closer look at the world that came before, the one that is being built right now and perhaps, what’s to come. It’s a small gift. The best I can do with my restricted reach but here we are.

Today, I told you about my own story. I came back to it with all that baggage from years of research into my Queer Heritage. I see things a bit more clearly now. In the hopes that maybe, if you deem it necessary, you will be able to do the same.

I’m signing off. Yours Truly,

The Queer King.

[ali2ter]

Going to Hell [nsfw]

// I’ve had this written out for what feels like forever at this point, but--! What started off as a collection of drabbles, bizarrely became canon for @psychicarmorhead, @worthy-of-maiself, and I’s Broken Home AU

Since this was originally written in segments, dashes separate the obvious gaps between them && the part separated by two dashes was written by @worthy-of-maiself!

TL;DR Sacrificeshipping smut with a slight plot! 

-

"You look like you have some regrets.” Amelda said, peering up at Valon from his position flat against the bed with one brow raised in a silent question; this was.. certainly interesting. One little comment and he'd gotten the brunet worked up enough to get things this far. Apparently, all Amelda needed to do if he really wanted to bed Valon was to challenge his virility. True, at the moment, the redhead was still clothed and they hadn't gotten any further than Valon dragging him to the bed, but that was still much more than he'd anticipated. Honestly, the 'you couldn't make me orgasm, anyway' comment was more of a dig at his own questionably grey sexuality than anything else, and yet there they were.

“I'm surprised you don't,” Valon replied, losing steam as he found himself hovering over Amelda—torn between the need to prove himself and how awkward that thought was. It was Amelda and, although he knew now that Mel had feminine features in more than just a coincidental way, the redhead wasn't exactly... he'd never viewed him sexually before. Hell, Valon had never looked twice at him period, but somehow the brunet had managed to coax the other man onto the bed with little fuss. What were they doing? Or, rather, what were they going to do?

Amelda responded to the subtle accusation by stretching out and settling himself against the bed more comfortably; if something happened, then something happened. Valon always had the option of backing out now, but the redhead chose to leave it to him, too intensely curious—and amused—to listen to the screaming from the half of him that begged him to reconsider. That Valon was really too close right now and that this was a terrible idea from the get-go, especially when taking Amelda's unrequited feelings into account. He was being as bad as Valon, and he knew it.

“Not yet,” Amelda hummed, running idle fingers through his red hair thoughtfully. “You took this upon yourself, but if you're having second thoughts... we can both be embarrassed and promise to never talk about it again.”

And, once his high cooled off, Amelda would be adamantly embarrassed one way or another. It was just a matter of how awkward at this point, depending on Valon's answer—an answer the brunet didn't seem to be willing to give. It didn't help his decision that Mel was in drag today--for Victoria’s sake--one of Valon's hands tepidly running over the transparent tulle of Amelda's skirt. Could he back down now, though? Would his pride allow that, even if it meant what he knew it meant? Sex with Mel? How was he even supposed to go about doing that?

Stupid question. The better question was, how do I make this less awkward? In that moment, Valon would have sworn that he felt like the virgin, not Mel. This wasn't his first rodeo, and the whole point was to prove to that smug redhead that he damn well could make him moan—no, actually, not just moan. If he was to fuck him at all, then it would be till Valon had Amelda's legs trembling around his waist in bliss as he came. Valon absolutely wouldn't take anything less than that.

Hypothetically.

Without realising it, the brunet had gathered a handful of Amelda's skirt into a balled fist, the other's silver eyes still looking to him curiously, waiting on an answer. Yes, no? Valon smoothed the skirt back over his hips apologetically, trailing up to his waist and then stopping just short of reaching his breasts. Oh, Valon was going to hell—not that that was news.

For a moment, Amelda's hand slipped away from his hair, resting on top of Valon's encouragingly. Warmly. Yet, the moment flickered and then vanished, pushing the hand off of him gently so that he could roll over and hug a pillow instead. “Go on. We both know you don't really want to do this.” – –

Valon almost did, because Amelda was right, but… He looked so sad, and Valon hated leaving him like that. He was the one who had pushed it this far in the first place, after all. Even if the damn bluey did provoke him…

“…Sorry,” he attempted awkwardly. “I just…” Just what? There were too many reasons they never should have ended up here, and he didn’t even know where to start. That wasn’t exactly ‘just’ anything.

But Amelda just rolled his eyes; Valon didn’t need to see as much to take a pretty educated guess based on his tone. “You don’t have to apologize for being straight, you know.” And he knew the brunet could no more help his lack of feelings for the redhead than the latter could help his feelings for the prior. It was an uncomfortable mess of a situation, but no one was at fault here.

Valon rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, but… Ya’re not really…”

Amelda had been willing to let it go, as he’d done– or thought he’d done– with countless insults and injuries past. But as much as he didn’t want to let it get to him, hearing those words at just this moment made something in him break. Made a lot of the resentment he thought he’d buried for good suddenly threaten to resurface.

“Not what, Valon.” It was was too devoid to even be a question as he sat up and turned back to him, grey eyes cold like a dreary day. “Not really a man?”

Valon didn’t know how to respond to that. He suddenly got the feeling that agreeing was very much the wrong answer, but…? He wasn’t, was he? Maybe Valon was missing something, but it seemed like his best bet was just to stay silent.

Eventually, Amelda sighed. “Whatever. Forget it.” It wasn’t like it mattered, right?

…Except it did. As much as it felt like it would be easier to ignore than deal with, it mattered. Amelda could take being rejected over clashing orientations. And he could accept Valon not wanting a relationship based on personal feelings. But this wasn’t about a relationship. This was purely about physical attraction, and even though he’d rarely even wanted anyone to look that way at him, after so many years it did start wearing on him that no one ever did.

And now, for Valon to sit here and insinuate that, despite getting his pronouns and titles right, he still saw him as a woman–to make it sound like he was just humoring him by treating him like the man he was– would have hurt like hell anyway. But for him to act like Amelda was a woman and then still be so completely off-put by him?

He groaned and rubbed his head. “I’m tired, Valon…”

The brunet found himself a little confused by that tone, but he didn’t want to press and make things worse. “Sorry. Ya want I should just leave ya to take a nap, then? Ya can even stay in here, if ya want…” Not that he really thought offering his bed compared to the guest room would really make up for anything, but maybe if he grasped at enough straws they’d add up to enough to make any difference.

But Amelda shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.” He drew his knees up, resting crossed arms on them and his chin on his arms, debating if he wanted to get into this. Maybe if he got it off his chest, he’d feel a bit better? Moreover, though, he suddenly realized that as shameful and nauseating as this day had already become, it sort of gave him license to go wild, didn’t it? After all, things weren’t likely to get worse when they were already rock bottom, so fuck it.

“I’m tired of not being good enough for anyone,” he blurted. “I’m tired of being too tall or too thin, of people complaining because my breasts are too small or because I have them at all, of being too masculine for someone who wants a girl and too feminine for someone who wants a guy.” He huffed a heavy sigh. “And I’m sorry, I honestly don’t mean to take this out on you. It’s just… kind of frustrating, after so long. You know..?”

Valon had never had that problem– not exactly. He rarely had trouble picking up a girl when the mood struck, and apparently, at least to hear Mel and Vicky tell it, girls often practically threw themselves at him without him particularly noticing. There was no universe in which he could imagine people as a whole finding him undesirable. …. But he didn’t need to.

Because he’d felt an immediate, deep pain shoot through his heart from the moment Amelda had uttered the words ‘not good enough’. It wasn’t in the same way, but…

‘You were never enough.’

Her words echoed through his mind for the billionth time since she’d uttered them. It really didn’t matter how things were going now; that wound still refused to close, let alone heal, and the blood from it suddenly coated him once again.

Voice so low Amelda barely heard him, Valon suddenly asked, “Would it help?”

“…What?”

“If…” Valon bit his lip, then took a deep breath. “If we did… this. Would it help?”

That was a very good question, and one Amelda wasn’t sure he could answer. Some reckless part of him wanted to scream yes, and he didn’t even know for certain where that was coming from. Now that the question was posed in such a way… did he even really want the sex itself or just what the most indulgent parts of him could pretend it meant? Just some shoddy replica of intimacy? Would it only make things worse, possibly ruining the friendship he’d worked so hard to cultivate and maintain? Was some idiotic part of him hoping it would somehow change things for the better? Was he really dumb enough to think seeing him as fuckable might change how Valon saw him in general?

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’m not even sure if I’d enjoy it.” Let alone sure of anything else.

Valon wasn’t sure if the look that brought to his face could quite be called a smirk or not; it might have been a little too bitter and conflicted for that, but it was somewhere in that neighborhood. “Now ain’t talk like that what got us into this in the first place?” he didn’t quite tease.

Amelda sniffed out an almost-laugh. That was true, but. He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m not doubting your status as reigning Sex God of Doma,” he snarked, the joke of course being that the bar wasn’t exactly high given that two of three were ace-spec. Still, he admitted, “I meant because I’m a virgin.”

“…Right.” Valon felt reasonably sure he’d been aware of that, on some level, or at least under that impression. But to have it called back to the forefront of his attention just… Well, if the mood had considered lightening for half a second there, it had quickly changed its mind now.

Just wanting to break the suffocating tension already, Amelda insisted, “Look, it doesn’t matter.” If it would help or if he’d enjoy it or anything else. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, so we should just drop it.”

Valon fought not to cringe even as he insisted, “Ya’re not. I swear ya’re not…” Not exactly. Maybe he didn’t… exactly… want. This. But it– well it wasn’t like it would be entirely unpleasant… right? And if… it would help Amelda feel better about himself, then… “If ya just wanna see what it’s like, then… I’m willin’.” Even if he couldn’t guarantee that offer would necessarily last if Mel didn’t take it now. “Or if ya’d rather wait for someone ya really care about, good on ya. Just let me know. But’s entirely up to ya.”

…ha. If only Valon understood how ironic his words really were. Someone he really cared about, indeed. Considering the closest in his life he’d come to feeling this way about anyone other than the man in front of him was an extremely unhealthy, vengeance-fueled obsession. Yeah. Good job there. God, sometimes he didn’t know if he should be frustrated or grateful that the brunet could be so dense.

Amelda sighed, resting his cheek against a loose approximation of a fist in thought. “… Honestly,” he said at last. “If you’re sure you’re sure, then…” Oh, what was he even thinking? Surely he wasn’t going to– “I really don’t see myself finding anyone like that any time soon,” he half lied; no one who’d return the feeling, anyway. “And I’d rather my first time be with you than some stranger.” Better someone who cared about him at all, even if it wasn’t the way Amelda wanted.

Valon was quiet for some time, unsure what to even do with that answer now. “… Yeah.” Yeah? What kind of response was that. Where was all that charm he was so proud of all of a sudden? Shit, maybe it only worked with wome–… Wow. And suddenly he didn’t even know how he saw Mel. Because this day needed to get a little more confusing.

Despite Valon’s insistence that it was fine, Amelda could tell he wasn’t exactly eager. He really didn’t want or know how to take the initiative himself, but maybe if he could just crack the ice a little… Hesitantly reaching out, he put a hand on Valon’s shoulder. “…If you don’t want to–” That wasn’t breaking the ice, Mel.

“No, no.” Wait that could be taken as– “Not ‘no I don’t’ but ‘no it’s fine’,” Valon clarified.

Okay, well. “…If you change your mind, then. We can just… take things slowly, and if you decide you’re not feeling it…”

Ah. “Right,” Valon agreed with a nod. “Same for ya. If ya’re… not enjoying it or whatever.” Amelda nodded in turn, and Valon found he actually did feel slightly better, if only slightly. Right… No harm in trying, just seeing how things go. Okay… He started to reach for Amelda, then reconsidered and pulled off his own shirt first.

Mel hesitantly followed suit with his blouse, immediately realizing how self-conscious he suddenly felt about the sports bra he wore beneath it. He mentally swore he had real ones, somewhere, but… he only debatably needed one, and this was more comfortable, so…

Valon didn’t seem to notice, though, too busy splitting his attention between getting his pants off and internally screaming at himself for doing this. Dammit all, this was the worst fucking idea either of them had ever had, pun both intended and not, and yes he was including Mel deciding to crash a plane in the list of bad ideas. But as much as the redhead had done for him in recent years, Valon felt like he owed him this much. Maybe they wouldn’t make it all the way; maybe this would prove so awkward he couldn’t even keep it up. But, by God, he was at least going to be able to sincerely say he tried.

Mel, meanwhile, had finally moved to taking off his belt. …This was stupid.

Then his boots. This was stupid.

Then his knee-high socks. This was stupid.

It was stupid and selfish and his nerves were standing completely on end and his blood was racing and his head was pounding and worse–he was pretty sure some horrible part of him was actually getting excited about this. About just having Valon touch him, even under such incredibly awkward circumstances. Fuck, he hated himself already– but that wasn’t even anything new, was it? What was one more terrible life decision to add to the list?

As Amelda reached for the hem of his skirt, he found Valon’s hand suddenly on his, stopping him. …Was it too much already?

But the brunet simply coaxed his hand away, then mumbled, “Lay down.” Amelda found himself hoping he wasn’t blushing, but did as he was told. Valon hooked his own fingers around the hem, grabbing both skirt and panties at first, but then finding himself still-hesitant and adjusting to pull only the skirt down and toss it aside with their other clothes.

With both down to underwear now, Valon took in the form lying before him. Of anything he’d ever considered calling Amelda, ‘petite’ didn’t even make the bottom of the list– nor did he ever think he’d find himself applying the term to anyone taller than him– but here he was, thinking his… whatever-the-hell-they-were… did indeed look surprisingly petite like this. It was almost cute… Even his face, especially as clearly embarrassed as he was, was so close to being cute.

If only it hadn’t been his. Had Amelda looked different and Valon picked up a random girl who looked like this without context, he’d probably have found her adorable. Would have told her how cute she was and praised every little feature as he lavished attention onto each. But this…?

Maybe if he just… didn’t look at his face…

– –

Amelda noticed immediately that Valon never kissed him, not on his lips. Not his cheek or jaw or anywhere near his face. The closest the brunet got was his neck, leaning over him suddenly with the countenance of someone on a mission. Nothing could have prepared either of them for this situation, Mel uncertain how to feel—a quiet gasp—about the brunet trailing down to his collarbone and Valon doing his best to psyche himself up. Girl, Boy, Mel—if he could just get the mental block of it being Amelda out of his mind, maybe they had a chance.

Breaking from his tirade of kisses, Valon drew back to take a breath, concentration broken by a bra strap. That needed to go. Amelda's chest was nowhere near Mai's, but he liked breasts. Didn't matter that they were small. Yet, Amelda laid with a question in his features as the kisses waned, too nervous to ask if Valon—Oh. In a testament to how ill the thing fit him, one of Valon's hands slipped underneath the stretchy fabric, unconsciously eliciting a shiver. He leaned forward at the unspoken suggestion, letting Valon pull it off of him with very little effort.

Better. Valon pushed Amelda back onto the bed as soon as he was free, and if the situation had been any different he may have stopped to enjoy the novelty of the fact that this was the first time he'd ever seen Amelda completely topless. Yet, that meant placing a name to the body he was placating with kisses, the hand that had secured the redhead down drifting from shoulder to his chest. Neither of them needed him thinking too hard about this. Feeling the contours of Amelda's soft breast in his palm, Valon hummed as the other man stiffened to his touch, and immediately slid down further to rectify it.

“Relax, I'm not gonna hurt ya..” Valon murmured, muffled as soon as his mouth met the smooth, supple skin of Amelda's other breast. Another shiver. Good. Meant he was doing something right, teasing the nipple with his tongue—wondering how much Mel minded if he used teeth. Valon was answered quickly with fingers running through his hair, unable to stop the grin from spreading on his face at Amelda's first sign of reciprocation. About damn time, because sex wasn't going to be fun for either of them if Valon ended up doing all of the work.

Thus, he lingered, forgetting himself and who he was with just to enjoy the sensation of another's hands buried in his brunet locks. Closing his eyes, Valon couldn't see the expression his partner gave: just this side of loving, nervous, conflicted—grateful? Amelda wanted desperately to pull Valon back up from his chest to kiss him properly, but hesitated. No, if Valon hadn't initiated a liplock, then perhaps it was better that they didn't. He refused to press his luck when the brunet seemed to just be getting comfortable—reasonably comfortable.

They stayed that way for a while, soaking in the moment where they were both almost enjoying themselves, before Valon finally strayed from his breasts, kissing down the plain of his stomach. This may have been the most vanilla foreplay he'd gone through in some time, but so far the objections he had to it were surprisingly sparse outside of the occasional haunting reminder of who he was doing. Pushing that thought back down, he ran his digits down Amelda's sides, lips now just above his panty line, almost playful. Almost.

“Valon,” an unfamiliar voice cried out, twitching at the contact. The tone was distinctly feminine--more than anything he’d ever heard come from Amelda before, and Valon had to look up to make sure he was still laying with the same person. Although, perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised by Amelda’s vocal range, considering the situation, yet— “I'm ticklish, stop that.”

Mel was trying to kill him, he swore it. Yet, the prick in him demanded satisfaction for this surprise, Amelda's protest only making him repeat the action. The redhead squirmed, unable to forcefully stop him out of fear Valon would stop period while also unable to contain his own muted giggling. “G-go straight to hell,” he stammered, one hand firmly clapped over his mouth.

“Yeah, ya'd like that wouldn't ya?” Valon quipped, albeit his words lost some of their effect being mouthed against bare skin. Damn.

Only because I'd be right there with you, Amelda nearly replied, luckily catching himself before he could manage to turn things awkward. Again.

Thankfully, Valon paid Amelda's lack of response little mind, deciding to test boundaries—both his and Mel's. If the redhead were anyone else, his mouth would have already ventured below where it rested to somewhere much more intimate. But was it okay if..? Well, they had to come off eventually, right? The brunet hummed, mischief quelled only for a moment, allowing the redhead to catch his breath as both hands slipped down to rest on Mel's hips. Fingers traced the outline of his panties, briefly dipping below them as if in thought. Not yet... but maybe...

Valon grinned, re-positioning himself so that his mouth had access to Amelda's neck again, kissing and nipping at it while adventurous digits rubbed over the front of Amelda's underwear. Smooth, much more like lingerie than he would have given his friend credit for, ignoring the light glare directed at him as his hand slid lower, never touching skin directly. Not yet. Valon insisted on being a tease until he could say for certain he could really go through with this; thus, happily the brunet pressed against the cloth barrier, motioning in firm back and forth strokes over where he approximated Amelda's clit to be.

He... admittedly hadn't expected Amelda to be so wet already—how desperate was he?—surprised when his ministrations immediately yielded moisture on his fingertips. Mel's hips grinding against them in response to the pleasurable friction. That—Amelda had never so much as touched himself before, so he had no context for the sensation. Only that it felt surprisingly good, if not damn irritating because he wanted more. In fact, the redhead hissed as Valon's surprise temporarily halted their progress.

In the heat of the moment, Amelda pushed him away... albeit only enough so that he could remove his own damn panties and toss them from the bed completely. There. They were gone. Now touch him like you meant it, the redhead commanded silently, pulling Valon back down roughly to kiss him instead. Still refusing his lips, their dynamic changed in an instant; Amelda ceased to be the passive sub Valon had known so far. This was serious now and—ow.

Amelda bit him, leaving an impression on Valon's flushed skin. Proof. At the very least he had the restraint not to break it, but the kisses were demanding. Dominant. For the brief second Valon had to think it over, the naked redhead before him now reminded him much more of the angry, vengeful one he'd met so many years ago. Pushy, needy and. Oh, Hell. Valon liked it. Giving into the kisses, his own underwear joined Amelda's on the floor, completely baring them to each other.

Going to Hell... the phrase repeated itself without a single uttered word. Amelda bit him again, shamelessly grabbing and forcing one of Valon's hands back where it'd been before. Ironically, Valon knew more about what might please him than the redhead did, himself; Mel knew how a feminine body typically reacted to stimuli, but his own arousal was a mystery to him in practise. His thighs spread lewdly without much thought, exposing more of his plump flesh to Valon's experienced digits.

They made lazy circles over his clit; smug when it firmed to his touch, Valon did nothing to up his pace, not even flinching when his partner's nails dug into his skin. Not even when when he knew with absolute certainty that Amelda wanted him to go faster. No. If Mel was going to make plays at being forward, then Valon had to challenge that authority. He took his time, his own growing desire burning but not desperate yet. It could wait. He hated to, but one-upping Amelda was more important.

Slick with lubricant, Valon's fingers slid further down, abandoning his swollen plaything to the intense disapproval of Amelda's teeth. He'd been close, damn you. A smirk. Valon knew. He knew the tell-tale signs of an arching back, tilted hips, and he didn't care. Mischievously, the brunet lingered around his slit, slipping one of his fingers into the opening thoughtfully. He could probably slide two in with no problem, but Valon persisted with one, pressing it in as far as it would go and flexing it in meticulous 'come hither' motions.

Excited, he contracted around the intruder, although disappointed by how little it filled him. If it weren't for his lack of experience, Amelda might have forced Valon onto his back then and there, grinding himself against the erection he knew Valon had. Anything to appease the wretched need welling in him to just get on with it. Not even when a second finger entered him did Amelda feel any sort of satisfaction, cursing Valon under his breath.

“Language,” Valon chastised. “Keep cussin' at me 'n I'll leave ya like this.”

To prove his point, he slipped his fingers out mid-thrust, using them instead to wrap around his cock and give himself a few lazy strokes. Hm. Probably should put a condom on, the brunet was reminded dimly. Actually--a devious smirk cut his features--Valon disengaged from his partner with only an infuriatingly coy glance. For one, Amelda was offended, sitting up the instant the other warm body left his presence with half a mind to drag him right back there. Rather, he was about to until he spotted Valon rifling through his nightstand, letting out a pleased hum as he found what he was after.

Even if Mel was whatever, he could still get pregnant, right? Better safe than have two kids and a lot of explaining to do. Returning to the bed, Valon straddled Amelda's lap, seemingly unfazed now as he watched the redhead's expression turn from angry to disgruntled understanding. Right, but warning would have been appreciated, you prick.

Taking the hands that had been so graciously leaving scratches down his back earlier, Valon placed the unopened condom in them. He would've normally just put it on himself, but there was an opportunity here. One Valon was oh-so-happy to share with Amelda. “Ya're gonna need to learn someday.”

If the rosy shade of pink tinting his cheeks was any indication, Amelda was, for the first time since they'd properly gotten into it, embarrassed. Flushed, but too indignant to back down. Sure, he'd never put on a condom before, but it couldn't be that complicated if Valon managed to do it with any sort of regularity. He muttered something halfway spiteful under his breath, carefully opening the foil packet and discarding it onto Valon's floor with the rest of their belongings. Letting the condom rest on his palm—ew, it was moist—the redhead's gaze drifted to Valon's cock.

Amelda hadn't gotten a good look at it before now, and, frankly, the view was... this was a first for a lot of things. This wasn't just the first time he'd gotten this far with anyone, it was also the first time Amelda had even seen one so intimately before; he was a little jealous, turned on, and still embarrassed all at the same time. An intrusive thought begged him to put his mouth on Valon instead of the condom. No, focus. There was no time for nerves or daydreaming about things that could be happening when there were things that were happening right now.

And yet, he found himself hesitating, cheeks steadily vying to outdo the shade of his hair. This shouldn't have been so scandalising, but—was it that he had no experience or was it that Valon was actively messing with him? Or both? Valon tried not to laugh at the vexed expression Amelda made at his junk, kinda like he'd never seen a penis before in his life [and, for all he knew, that could have been the case].

“Ya alright there, bluey? Need some pointers?” Valon purred. After all, what sort of lesson was Mel learning if no one bothered to instruct him? Especially when the alternative to Mel putting it on properly wasn't nearly as palatable. Thus, the redhead shot him an expression that Valon could only describe as help me, you insolent cur. Maybe not in so many words, though. But, alright, suppose he could if it was really that troubling. “Okay, I'll let ya off easy this time--”

This time? Shit. Did he just imply there was going to be a next time? Better not to dwell. Taking the condom from Mel, he pinched the tip and placed it against the head of his cock, looking to his partner wolfishly. Just because he was letting him off easy didn't mean that Amelda was free from doing any of the work. No, that'd be a damn shame, because he was having a little too much fun bossing the utterly out-of-his-element redhead around. Who could blame him, though? Just a moment ago, Amelda was biting and cursing his name—probably still was on the inside—but on the outside he was amusingly tsundere, for lack of a better word.

“Gimme your hand.” He waited for Amelda to comply. “'n just roll it down. Easy.”

As soon as the latex barrier was snug against Valon's arousal, Amelda surprised him, decisively wrapping his fingers around his shaft. Consider this payback for now and earlier, because unless Valon forced him down... well, some part of him hoped he might, but Amelda wanted to take his time. He had to make up for this embarrassment. So, dredging his confidence back up from the depths, his strokes languid were languid--firm, but not tight. A tease. Almost as if he actually knew what he was doing [although real experience would have told him that a handjob was better without a condom, heh].

“Shit, Mel..” Two parts impatient, one part curious to see what the stubborn virgin could do, Valon allowed it begrudgingly, not even faintly realising that he'd started calling Amelda by name. No longer was he a purposefully faceless entity Val was trying to fuck for questionable reasons; it was almost natural, leaning back to rest his hands on the bed as he watched the redhead fondle him. His expression of sheer focus accentuated his work, stroking down Valon’s cock--surreptitiously glancing to his expression as he thumbed the underside of its head.

Pleased by what he saw, his hands were almost scientific, experimenting--toying with Valon based on what made him react the loudest. Sliding down. Shit. Back up. Mel. Yet, Valon wondered, lost in and overthinking the sensation, why was it Amelda seemed to have more knowledge about how to give a half-decent handjob than literally anything else so far? Or was he just naturally good with his hands? Hell, the man was a pilot, maybe that was somehow a part of it.

Er, wait.

Overthinking it. Definitely overthinking it. None of that made sense. This was just Valon immodestly riled and accepting any touch as great touch. He forcefully cut off the suggestion that Amelda was anything more than lucky. Yet, his hips bucked into the maddeningly slow pace, forgetting the flustering subject to remember his own impatience. Credit where it was due, this felt good, but—Amelda restrained him hastily, taken aback by the sudden movement.

No. His expression challenged. No? Valon questioned back. No. Amelda asserted, completely removing himself from Valon's member with an air of smug satisfaction. The brunet sat up again immediately, pride demanding recompense for having some patience for the virgin who was—whatever he was being right now. Did the semantics of it matter? The torch was passed to the brunet to resolve their conflicting dominance, and he scrabbled against the bed-sheets, pushing Amelda back down onto them with a grunt. Enough teasing, bluey. He was horny and he knew you were, too, recalling vividly how slick his fingers were earlier.

Amelda smiled, genuinely and without spite, a shudder of excitement running down his spine as his partner took one of his thighs to spread lewdly. As flexible as he was, the redhead didn't mind how far Valon pushed them apart. He wanted this. They wanted this, a mix of lustful reverence and nerves making him bite his lip as Valon guided himself into his partner eagerly. If it weren't for the sharp pain of teeth digging into the flesh of his mouth, Amelda would have let out a gasp, bracing his arms against Valon to keep himself still while also drawing his partner closer.

They weren't even—the brunet wasn't even completely sheathed, taking things slowly despite all of his senses telling him to do the opposite. Remarkably, even in his frustration, Valon had some tact. And, perhaps, Amelda would have been embarrassed by how clearly inexperienced his reactions were to the intrusion had he been less exhilarated by the act. Not that Valon left Mel much time to contemplate anything at all, shallow thrusts starting as soon as he was satisfied that he wouldn't hurt him.

“I'm not going to break,” Amelda attempted to scold, his words failing him as they came out in a frustrated whine. When his mind wasn't addled by desire, the redhead might have appreciated Valon's thoughtfulness, but then was not the time; he hated too much how every time Valon touched him it was never enough to sate the searing need gripping his body. It was too teasing, too gentle, too absolutely maddening. If Amelda was to have Valon for only this one moment, then he wanted all of him and everything else he was willing to give.

Valon grinned, punctuating his oncoming thought by pressing himself into Amelda as far as their position comfortably allowed and stopping there just to enjoy how snugly they fit together. Oh, the dirty look Amelda gave him was worth it, too. Thus, not at all apologetic, a borderline sweet kiss to Mel's cheek didn't fool either of them, beaming proudly as the glare cracked and fell apart when Valon's hips receded only to buck back into him roughly and more deeply than his former pace. Who was he to deny Amelda when even his own body ached to turn his partner into a trembling mess against the sheets? Sure, Valon promised not to hurt him, but wasn't his fault if Amelda was begging him to be sore later.

“Never said ya were, bluey. Jus' thought I'd give ya the option before ya start cussin' me out again later for being too rough.”

Giving into the moment, any curses lingering on Amelda's lips were stolen away by a hushed moan and the arching of his back against the bed, unable and unwilling to think about anything other than the man in front of him. Utterly captivated, the needy irritation that had coaxed Valon harder was too easily replaced by heady bliss; in fact, forget guilt or modesty. A hazy impulse overtook him, one hand shifting to trace the uppermost outline of Valon's tattoo while the other settled flat-palmed against his chest. He panted, “Pull out.. one second, I need to do something.”

Amelda was flexible, right? He could do this...

Huffing, it was Valon's curiosity that won out, giving his partner space to do whatever Mel thought was so important that he had to interrupt them. Yeah, yeah, Valon would feel like an ass for being impatient if something was wrong, but they'd prolonged this long enough, right? Maybe if Amelda had been Mai—Amelda was not Mai. That was immediately evident.. and very lewd as the redhead adjusted, placing a pillow under himself and lifting his legs high enough that, had Valon been less turned on, he would have thought looked uncomfortable.

Yet, the redhead's unwarranted flexibility didn't hinder Valon at all from letting him rest those legs against his shoulders, and this was no time to think about where Mel learned this position, either. Exchanging Amelda's unused expletives for his own at how much further he was able to plunge himself into his partner, it was a boon that the redhead was still so slick, easily taking Valon's length despite how tight the position made him—added to the fact that he was already a virgin. Heh, emphasis on was. Valon made short work of resuming their prior rhythm, pleased by every quiet gasp he wrung from him.

Mel was so much more communicative like this that Valon almost thought it was cute. He'd be damned before he admitted that out loud, but what he adamantly denied couldn't hurt either of them.

Although, it became harder to argue with himself over how he felt when Amelda's gasps conceded to louder, desperately-but-poorly stifled moans as he steadily grew closer to his climax. Clutching the sheets, the redhead damned himself for suggesting this change; rather, as the heat welling in his abdomen threatened to consume him, all Amelda wanted was to passionately kiss his temporary-lover and curse his name for making him want this so badly. His breath hitched, unconsciously holding it as another thrust of Valon's hips tipped him over the edge.

Valon. The name echoed around him, yet not a word was spoken as his body tensed and spasmed around Valon's arousal, only fueling the euphoria clawing at him by refusing to stop moving. Every little motion made Amelda want to squirm, even though he knew he couldn't. Even when he was dimly aware of the smirk gracing Valon's face as he worked through Amelda's orgasm—almost as if to spite him with pleasure, but damn him. He was succeeding, and for all that Amelda was worth, the redhead silently admitted defeat to a skill far greater than his own.

Remembering how to breathe again, a great sigh parted from Amelda's lips as his high inevitably plateaued and faded, leaving him dazed. Valon said something to him—some quip or tease, probably, but the words failed to register. Even as his body reminded him that another orgasm was possible, the pleasure from Valon's quickening pace was dull compared to the sense of satisfaction he got from watching the brunet chase his own climax. Despite losing—whatever that meant—his expression was left completely unguarded as he tried to make sense of the world again. This was good. This was nice.

However, Amelda's reverent wonder wasn't allowed to last. Ragged and insisting, one final jab pressed Valon's hips nearly flush to his partner's, grinding into him with a keen as his pent up sexual frustration spent itself inside of Amelda... inside of the condom, rather, but such pedantry mattered little to him. He'd forgotten how much he needed this, greedily milking his release for as long as he could before finally pulling out with a groan. Glancing between them as he did so, Valon resignedly peeled himself away from his partner, letting out a breathy chuckle as he heard the soft thump of Amelda slumping against the bed behind him.

Yeah, yeah.. he had to dispose of the used condom first, alright? Give him a sec and he'd be right there with you, bluey.

–

So, there they were: panting to catch their breath, laying next to each other with their backs against the sheets, naked. Off in their own worlds, Amelda thought, wondering what was happening in his brunet companion's world right then. Was it awkwardness? Was it regret? Amelda never really thought they'd do this—have sex. Not with each other, and not when Valon still felt nothing towards him, ever unknowing of what lurked beneath the surface of Amelda's well-guarded heart.

He... wanted to reach out, to touch. To awkwardly slide his hand over and brush his fingertips against Valon's, entwining them loosely. To hold him. Amelda wanted so many things, imagining them happening on breathy, nervous replay over and over. He waited for Valon to get up, to say something to break the illusion, crushing every single naïve fantasy Amelda had. This was just sex, the redhead reminded himself, trying to quiet the loud drumming in his mind that wanted it to be more—lest Valon somehow overhear it. This was just sex, fucking, and nowhere near love.

Amelda knew that, guilt and anxiety making his chest tighten as silver eyes watched his partner as inconspicuously as they could; if Valon found out that he'd made lo—fucked someone who was in love with him, how would he react? Would he feel used? Was Amelda a bad person for not stopping him? He felt like a bad person, fully knowing that—although the brunet had consented—Valon would remember how shameful the situation was as soon as the lingering sexual high wore off.

Still. Amelda couldn't help but want to rest his head on Valon's chest and cuddle until they both drifted off to sleep, even if that was the furthest possible outcome. At best, he expected Valon to clumsily regard him and then excuse himself to go shower. Something they both needed, but the redhead would let Valon go first. It was only fair to let him dwell in his shame after allowing this to happen so selfishly; at the time, both were having fun—or at the very least enjoying the act, remembering the outline of a smile gracing Amelda's features, reverent of his partner in a way that could only be described as stupidly in love. He hoped Valon didn't notice.

On cue, Valon finally sat up, glancing over at Amelda's prone frame with oddly guilty contemplation. The gravity of the situation had been sinking in slowly as they'd laid in silence. He felt embarrassed and a whole conglomerate of many other similar emotions; yet, Valon bit his lip. Was it right to just leave Mel right after? Even his one night stands had more decency than that. They left in the morning instead.

“Uh...” No, Valon couldn't think of a damn thing to say, and the impulse to say 'thanks' was not a helpful one. “So...”

What now? Just go back to their lives like nothing happened or? God, he hoped Amelda wasn't reading too much into this, because it was taking all of his willpower not to feel—not revolted. Revolted was too strong of a word, and too angry to convey the poignant sensation he got from seeing a naked form beside him that doubled as someone he considered family. Uncomfortable was an infinitely better word, and described the entire post-coital situation perfectly on his behalf. Yet, Valon swallowed those feelings, knowing they'd hurt Mel pretty badly if he was anything other than understandably awkward right now.

“...do you want me to stay?” He was Amelda's first and he knew it, too. Normally, Valon would feel a little smug about taking someone's virginity, but not this time. Mel meant more to him than that.

Shifting, the redhead unsuccessfully stifled a groan as he moved to match Valon's more upright position; he was going to be so sore in a few hours. Hell, it might not even take that long, but right now the pain in his chest outweighed whatever other bodily ache plagued him. Unconsciously, Amelda dragged a knee closer to him protectively—enough that it could be read as 'comfortable sitting position' but still acknowledgeably guarded. How could he say yes without feeling like he was trapping Valon into a situation only one of them really wanted?

“You—well, yes..” Amelda stammered, fighting between being passive and being honest. Being passive wasn't like him, but there was just so much going on already that it was damn near unavoidable. “But I won't be upset if you leave. It was just sex.”

Perfect. Now he could minimise his own feelings and feel like a selfish prick all at the same time! Valon seemed unconvinced—too much mumbling for Mel to be seriously fine, albeit he was tempted to take the obvious out Amelda was willing to give him, anyway. What a mess. What a mess...

Inside, Valon was screaming, but he did his best to put up a charming facade for Amelda, resting a hand on the redhead's shoulder comfortingly. What happened next did nothing to stop the internal cacophony for more than a confused moment, feeling the warmth of Amelda's cheek meet his knuckles in a way that would have been endearing had it been literally almost anyone else. Heaven help him, Mel was a cuddler, wasn't he? Of course he had to be, because that was the thing Valon would be the farthest from comfortable doing still all.. naked and etcetera.

But. Valon had a plan. “C'mon then, let's go get showered 'n then I'll let ya pick out a movie or something.”

He'd surely fall asleep during a movie, but that was the brilliance of it.

[idontdateblack]

Boys Will be Boys is a Bunch of Bullshit and Everyone Knows It.

Growing up I had never understood a young boys fascination with ass grabbing and breast touching. I had never understood why teachers, parents, and the rest of my peers would turn a blind eye to when a boy would sexually harass a young girl. Often I’d hear “boys will be boys” or “they’re just playing around, don’t pay them any mind” or “ignore them”. In school us girls were taught to not wear spaghetti strap tank tops and to wear our skirts and shorts right above the knee, as we shouldn’t be a distraction. Though the schools never said who we’d be distracting, it was obvious of course: boys. At a young age society had began to teach me, a young Black girl, that my whole existence was a fucking distraction, and that any unwanted attention would just ‘poof’ disappear if I ignored it. It had been embedded in me at an early age that women were supposed to accept being touched and fondled without permission, because this is what boys just do and if they DO commit those acts, then we were asking for it.

The concept of “boys will be boys” never did die out, it never left. Instead “boys will be boys” just grew up and turned into “men will be men…. that still act like little dick boys”. In my college years and younger twenties I still experienced being at a party or club, minding my business or simply trying to make my way through a crowd, all while feeling someone’s ashy handed son grabbing on my ass. Clearly, boys were no longer boys. These were now grown ass men that were still carrying this ideology that it is okay to place their unwanted hands on my body and that I would let them get a pass. Wrong! I left a few hand prints and dick kicks as a memory that I am not to be fucked with. The same “boys” that felt it was their GOD given right as a man to find his fingers in the cracks and crevices of my ass without my permission,  are the same “boys” that get upset went you condemn them and rectify their behavior. These same “boys” them begin to ask you what’s your problem and cause a scene, often playing victim to a situation that they themselves have created.

Many of these males who fit the “boys will be boys” prototype, have evolved into the “men will be men” that are often seen on social media and the internet passing themselves off as motivational speakers. However, none of these men really seem to be saying anything that motivates you as a woman. They seem to ONLY address the faults of  women and place them at blame for the actions of men. Recently, I read an article on www.theroot.com titled, “Women, Stop Listening to Sexist Relationship Experts”, which exposes celebrities such as Reverend Run, Steven Harvey, and Tyrese who all have blatant sexist/misogynistic view points when it comes to failed relationships and why men behave the way that they do. Their point of views always seem to place women at fault for the mistakes of men, all the while justifying a man’s action, even if it is degrading to a woman.

On the now cancelled show (thank GOD), “It’s not you, it’s men”, Amber Rose faced off with Tyrese Gibson and Rev. Run regarding how women dress versus how women should be addressed. Needless to say the boys came out to play and Amber Rose shut it down with a quickness. Tyrese went on to justify a man’s unwanted approach by saying this, “If you see a basketball player, and he’s known as a basketball player, when you see him, you’ll be like, 'Yo, let’s go play ball.’ I’m just saying, the comfortability that some people find in wanting to touch or grope you. It’s an energy that’s being sent out there that creates that type of response.” First of all, comparing a woman’s existence to a profession are two complete different things. Having knowledge that someone is an athlete would generally compel you to engage in athletic combat and dialogue, which is still not the same as making unwanted sexual advances at someone and making them uncomfortable. Seeing a woman simply existing, meaning you don’t know anything about her likes or dislikes, does not compel you to grope her, you do. Rev. Run followed up with the statement “Dress how you would want to be addressed”. So let me get this straight. You, my fellow Black man, are constantly being scrutinized for your athletic gear, your fitted hats, baggy jeans, and dread locks. You fell alienated when a White man in a business suit is greeted first in a public place. You can’t help but notice when you are being over looked, ignored, or followed in an establishment simply because you don’t look the part. You grieve the deaths of many African American males  who fell victim to racial profiling because they were wearing a hoodie and a beanie, but not once do you blame the (Black) man for the unwanted and unfair attention due to his attire or his “energy”. Instead, you blame society for marginalizing how (Black) men in America should be treated based on their attire, dialect, physical appearance, and for most importantly existing.

How dare you turn the other cheek when our (Black) women are being marginalized AND sexually abused/harassed for existing just like you? How dare you not defend us when we put our hearts on the line and will go to war for you? What I find even more baffling is that Tyrese is a model, singer, actor, and….. a sex symbol. Why is it that society is accepting of the sexualization of men, but not women? Why are women shamed for displaying their physical attributes, meanwhile men are applauded and awarded for posing topless and in briefs which exposes the size of their penises? You mean to tell me that if I were to see a man, half naked, in nothing but briefs, that I couldn’t just stick my hands in his pants and grab onto his manhood? That’s exactly what is happening to women across the globe.

What bothers me the most is how men/society refuses to hold other men accountable for their actions against women It is time for our judicial system, schools, and neighborhoods to stop letting boys slide through life without ever making them suffer the consequences of their wrong doings. Mother’s need to stop coddling their sons to the point that they are raising them to be just like the “ain’t shit” man that she despises. Father’s need to spend just as much time teaching their sons about consent, protection, and abstinence, just as much as they preach to their daughters about remaining a virgin. Often I hear ignorant men say, “If I have a daughter, she can’t do anything. I’m not letting her date”, followed by more misogynistic banter. I find something very wrong with this ideology. This plants the idea into young girls minds that any sexual advances made at them, whether wanted or not, if their fault. Meanwhile, young boys are being taught how to be a player and have multiple girlfriends and how to lose their virginity. Not that I condone children engaging in sexual conduct, but why do we teach young girls that sex and sexuality is bad, while we teach young boys to engage in early sexual conduct and that it is okay for them. We teach our young boys to take pride and have confidence in their bodies, while we tell our young girls to “cover up”.

I am not here for it. I refuse to raise my daughter with the mindset that her pure existence as a woman gives men the right to disrespect her verbally and physically. I refuses to raise my son with the mindset of sexual entitlement, that a woman owes his sex and her body just because they are in the same proximity as one another. I am not here for the woman bashing and especially against Black women. We are the most unprotected race of women on this here Earth.

OWN IT If everyone is responsible for their own lives, happiness, actions, etc., then men so are you. Own it. YOU are responsible for your actions. No one can force you to rape, abuse, and harass a woman except yourself. Take responsibility for both the good and bad that you do.

NO MEANS NO Nothing pisses me off more than a grown ass man practically begging for sex. Telling me “we’re both grown” as if that will make me want to drop my panties even more. Respect the fact that I know that I am grown enough to make my own decisions concerning sex. Constantly gripping at my clothes, whining, and pulling me closer to you will not change my mind. If anything it makes you seem more annoying and now I’m less willing to have sex with you.

I DON’T OWE YOU My body is my body, not yours. I do not owe you sex, just like you don’t owe me your paycheck. Many men, whether conscious or not about it, feel as if they are entitled to sex from women. I do not care if you took me on 20 dates, if I don’t want to have sex with you, I don’t have to. You can simply stop entertaining me and leave it there.

DRESS HOW YOU WANT TO BE ADDRESSED IS BULLSHIT You cannot apply this way of thinking solely to women and expect it to not be applied to the rest of the world, because it doesn’t make sense. If we applied this ideology to our every day lives, most of us would feel rejected and scrutinized. My attire does not give any man the right to touch me without my permission. A woman’s hijab doesn’t give you the right the assume she’s a terrorist. A White man in a business suit doesn’t give you the right to assume he’s wealthy. A Black man in athletic gear doesn’t give you the right to assume he’s uneducated. You get the point.

#boys boyswillbeboys feminism blacklivesmatter relationships sex couples advice amberrose stevenharvey tyresegibson revrun

[werelesbian]

A Long Reflection Regarding my Sexuality

Lesbian has been a word that has been negatively used since I was a child. When I was a little kid I was told “You can’t be gay or marry outside of your own race” by my father. I must’ve bottled that up for years. I’ve always looked at girls since I was a kid. I remember one of my earliest memories being from when I was about 7 and thinking a lady with a green shirt was really pretty. I also always remember staring at boobs and butts, A LOT. I always had an interest in girls, I just didn’t realize it. When sexuality became to become known, one of my friends came out as bisexual and I flipped out. Being gay was always seen as bad to my family and thus I had to follow it. When “I Kissed a Girl”, “She Keeps Me Warm” and “Same Love” were on the radio, I became very anxious and changed the pronouns to prove I wasn’t gay. I couldn’t be gay right? Even though I have looked at girls before and I remember staring at my friend’s brother’s ceiling with a picture of a woman in a bikini.and being mesmerized by it. As I got older, the concept of being gay became normalized to me. I came out as pansexual because that’s what I thought I was at the time. I maybe had one “crush” on a boy, but more numerous ones on girls. My friend, a camp counselor, and my mom’s friend’s daughter. High school finally rolled around and I went through my first stage of questioning. I cycled through labels until I came to bisexual. That’s what I believed to be best. Then the crushes on girls flooded in. The first crush I recognized I had on a girl was my friend’s ex girlfriend. I wanted her! But when my friend asked her out I was crushed. “Oh well I thought, I’ll have to live with it”. I tried to third wheel in their relationship, probably due to lingering feelings. Then I developed a crush on another girl, a good friend of mine. I asked her out to TOLO, but she said no and I cried. Straight girls cry when they get rejected by girls right? I almost asked a guy friend of mine as a rebound but then decided against it. Later on since both of my friends were dating, I decided that I should to. I chose a guy who I thought was ‘cute’ and we went out a few times. He even asked me to homecoming the next year where he kissed me. I felt nothing by it and very awkward. Him and I went out again a few more times but I didn’t really feel much for him. I liked the kissing somewhat but that was about it. I think I was more excited by feeling rebellious. My friends pushed the label of ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’ onto us, but it was awkward. But I still went along with it. At the beginning of sophmore year, I had to attend eating disorder treatment and I was drawn to another girl there. She was so cool and I wanted to be close to her and spend time with her. Too bad nothing ever came of it. That same year however, I also developed a crush on another girl in my French class. When she walked in, it was like time slowed down, I was SO attracted to her. We even sat next to each other in class and boy, did she make me nervous. I felt things that were different than even being with that guy I was with. Even seeing her years later, my eyes still were drawn to her like a damn magnet. She was gorgeous. In  junior year, my friends began to have sex and lose their virginities. I felt left behind and wanted to fit in. There was always a craving for it, especially since I always felt ‘different’ and left out, even since I was a kid. I was bullied too and with a sweet blend of my low self esteem and depression, I followed trends. This was just another one of them. I made a ‘pact’ with myself that year to get a boyfriend for the sole purpose to lose my virginity and I did. I also developed a weird obsession with two guys that year. I dressed up and daydreamed scenarios in my head of them liking me. I wanted them to want me, but I’m not sure if I wanted them. But I also did end up achieving my goal that year. I got the boyfriend and lost my virginity. I did what I had to do. Even though it was awkward and I felt numb after it. It resulted in me having 2 months of extreme anxiety due to a fear of being pregnant. In the relationship, I didn’t feel much, or not at all for the guy. I leaned on him for support due to my dysfunctional family. It was an escape. I eventually broke it off with him and got over the relationship within a week. This started a cycle of waiting for the next boyfriend to come around. The next one eventually did. He was nice and cared for me. He pursued me first and I went with it. I’m glad I didn’t have to have sex with him. It was the easiest relationship I was in because we were more like friends and less like lovers. Then we broke up and I got over him within a week. Rinse and repeat. The last boyfriend I dated for nine months and I believed at one point I loved him. He cared for me and had a nice family I could escape to, when mine was falling apart at the seams. I craved the ‘nuclear family’ unit since I never had in the start. I felt accepted and safe there when I didn’t want to go home to mine. His companionship was nice and all, but I know deep down I didn’t care for him the way he cared for me. He loved me, but I didn’t love him. He wanted to escalate the relationship to the next level and an alarm bell went off in my head. It was a major “NO” to be but I tried to ignore it and said “maybe” to him. I often went along for the ride and never followed what I wanted. We eventually broke up after we were drifting apart. I began to crave sex less and began to hate doing anything with his penis. I tried my best to avoid having penetration and was relieved when we didn’t have to do it. I was so scared of getting pregnant, but deep down it may have been my body telling me that it wasn’t right. I was also relieved when I didn’t have to see him as much. I wanted to be away from him and felt relief when I broke up with him. It took me about a week to get over him. The cycle almost began again when another guy pursued me but I wasn’t into it. He wanted to go out with me again and I panicked. I didn’t want to see him. All this time when I was dating boys, my sexuality was really repressed but it surfaced in cracks. I’d often create characters who were LGBT+ and the ones I was most obsessed with were often bisexual or lesbian. Most characters I created were never straight, but I turned them so because of my own internalized homophobia. I dealt with it a lot for two years and even showed discontentment with others who were openly queer. I think it was because I myself deep down knew I was like them but was afraid to be ‘different’ due to backlash. I had crafted and dressed myself in a way to be palatable to the opposite sex. I had this deep craving to ‘fit in’, so much so that I neglected my own sexuality and in a way a part of myself. This year, I met another girl who I fell for. I began to crush hard on her and fell head over heels for her. She made me feel good about myself for once in my life. She was beautiful, kind, smart and had a wicked sense of humor. She was like a dream to me. She was my catalyst. I wanted to kiss her and hold her close. We fell asleep on the phone with each other every night and spend hours talking to each other. It was like two peas in a pod we clicked so well. I also craved her touch, her body, her skin against mine, what her lips felt like. I took notice of the little things in her from the curve of her jaw to the color of her eyes. I wrote her letters and picked flowers that I wanted her to see. I wanted to talk to her all the time. Although our relationship was short, I will forever thank her for lighting the fire again of my sexuality. When I began talking to her, I began to take notice of girls so much more. My gaze averted from that I had learned to that of what I wanted. Pretty girls made me so nervous and I felt like my damn 14 year old self again. It was like being a kid in a candy store, I was so damn happy! I even bought pride merchandise for the first time in forever. I was okay with being gay. However, I should have never brought it up with any of my family. They said that they’d like me to end up with a boy, asked if I have talked to any boys yet, said I haven’t found the right guy, I’m just x sexuality, etc. Now I’m scared once again and want to go back into the closet. I’m keeping this close to me. It’s my dirty little secret I guess. Questioning doesn’t help either. I doubt myself all the time and ‘test’ myself to see if I am attracted to men. I feel as if I have to ‘double-check’ to see if I am truly gay. It’s the damn doubt all over again. I also punish myself if I look at girls in a sexual way. Girls in the past thought I had touched them and I felt like a dirty pervert, hell my friend even thinks so. It’s hard for me to allow myself to like women again. I don’t want to be seen as a predator or trying to use them as an experiment. I just want a girl to love and give my all to. I want to be the best damn person I can be for my future girlfriend/wife and I’ll be damned if I can’t do that. All of this questioning process is so confusing. Am I a lesbian? Am I bi? Maybe I’m just a straight girl in denial doing this because I’m lonely. Fuck who knows. I just know that after being with a woman, I sure as hell don’t want to go back. My attraction to men has regressed. Maybe I’m in a bi-cycle, or maybe it’s my lesbian awakening. Only time will tell. Most queer women I have talked to agree that I am a lesbian. When I call myself gay or lesbian. It makes me feel good, but I feel as if I have to resort to bisexual just in case “Mr. Right” comes along. But he probably never will. In fact, he probably never existed. I’ve had elaborate fantasies about romance but I never saw a clear face of who the “man” was supposed to be. When I fantasize about sex, I was never there unless it was with another woman, never a man. Another woman always took that place and I’d view it from third person, like watching porn. Women light a fire in me that men do not. I’ve gotten turned on by their bodies and touch in a way that I haven’t with guys. Hell if I know why, but I do. Maybe I really am just gay and that’s okay. Maybe I am a lesbian after all. The word isn’t so “dirty” anymore. 

[pettyicequeencee-blog]

Boys Will be Boys is a Bunch of Bullshit and Everyone Knows It.

Growing up I had never understood a young boys fascination with ass grabbing and breast touching. I had never understood why teachers, parents, and the rest of my peers would turn a blind eye to when a boy would sexually harass a young girl. Often I'd hear "boys will be boys" or "they're just playing around, don't pay them any mind" or "ignore them". In school us girls were taught to not wear spaghetti strap tank tops and to wear our skirts and shorts right above the knee, as we shouldn't be a distraction. Though the schools never said who we'd be distracting, it was obvious of course: boys. At a young age society had began to teach me, a young Black girl, that my whole existence was a fucking distraction, and that any unwanted attention would just 'poof' disappear if I ignored it. It had been embedded in me at an early age that women were supposed to accept being touched and fondled without permission, because this is what boys just do and if they DO commit those acts, then we were asking for it.

The concept of "boys will be boys" never did die out, it never left. Instead "boys will be boys" just grew up and turned into "men will be men.... that still act like little dick boys". In my college years and younger twenties I still experienced being at a party or club, minding my business or simply trying to make my way through a crowd, all while feeling someone's ashy handed son grabbing on my ass. Clearly, boys were no longer boys. These were now grown ass men that were still carrying this ideology that it is okay to place their unwanted hands on my body and that I would let them get a pass. Wrong! I left a few hand prints and dick kicks as a memory that I am not to be fucked with. The same "boys" that felt it was their GOD given right as a man to find his fingers in the cracks and crevices of my ass without my permission,  are the same "boys" that get upset went you condemn them and rectify their behavior. These same "boys" them begin to ask you what's your problem and cause a scene, often playing victim to a situation that they themselves have created.

Many of these males who fit the "boys will be boys" prototype, have evolved into the "men will be men" that are often seen on social media and the internet passing themselves off as motivational speakers. However, none of these men really seem to be saying anything that motivates you as a woman. They seem to ONLY address the faults of  women and place them at blame for the actions of men. Recently, I read an article on www.theroot.com titled, "Women, Stop Listening to Sexist Relationship Experts", which exposes celebrities such as Reverend Run, Steven Harvey, and Tyrese who all have blatant sexist/misogynistic view points when it comes to failed relationships and why men behave the way that they do. Their point of views always seem to place women at fault for the mistakes of men, all the while justifying a man's action, even if it is degrading to a woman.

On the now cancelled show (thank GOD), "It's not you, it's men", Amber Rose faced off with Tyrese Gibson and Rev. Run regarding how women dress versus how women should be addressed. Needless to say the boys came out to play and Amber Rose shut it down with a quickness. Tyrese went on to justify a man's unwanted approach by saying this, "If you see a basketball player, and he's known as a basketball player, when you see him, you'll be like, 'Yo, let's go play ball.' I'm just saying, the comfortability that some people find in wanting to touch or grope you. It's an energy that's being sent out there that creates that type of response." First of all, comparing a woman's existence to a profession are two complete different things. Having knowledge that someone is an athlete would generally compel you to engage in athletic combat and dialogue, which is still not the same as making unwanted sexual advances at someone and making them uncomfortable. Seeing a woman simply existing, meaning you don't know anything about her likes or dislikes, does not compel you to grope her, you do. Rev. Run followed up with the statement "Dress how you would want to be addressed". So let me get this straight. You, my fellow Black man, are constantly being scrutinized for your athletic gear, your fitted hats, baggy jeans, and dread locks. You fell alienated when a White man in a business suit is greeted first in a public place. You can't help but notice when you are being over looked, ignored, or followed in an establishment simply because you don't look the part. You grieve the deaths of many African American males  who fell victim to racial profiling because they were wearing a hoodie and a beanie, but not once do you blame the (Black) man for the unwanted and unfair attention due to his attire or his "energy". Instead, you blame society for marginalizing how (Black) men in America should be treated based on their attire, dialect, physical appearance, and for most importantly existing.

How dare you turn the other cheek when our (Black) women are being marginalized AND sexually abused/harassed for existing just like you? How dare you not defend us when we put our hearts on the line and will go to war for you? What I find even more baffling is that Tyrese is a model, singer, actor, and..... a sex symbol. Why is it that society is accepting of the sexualization of men, but not women? Why are women shamed for displaying their physical attributes, meanwhile men are applauded and awarded for posing topless and in briefs which exposes the size of their penises? You mean to tell me that if I were to see a man, half naked, in nothing but briefs, that I couldn't just stick my hands in his pants and grab onto his manhood? That's exactly what is happening to women across the globe.

What bothers me the most is how men/society refuses to hold other men accountable for their actions against women It is time for our judicial system, schools, and neighborhoods to stop letting boys slide through life without ever making them suffer the consequences of their wrong doings. Mother's need to stop coddling their sons to the point that they are raising them to be just like the "ain't shit" man that she despises. Father's need to spend just as much time teaching their sons about consent, protection, and abstinence, just as much as they preach to their daughters about remaining a virgin. Often I hear ignorant men say, "If I have a daughter, she can't do anything. I'm not letting her date", followed by more misogynistic banter. I find something very wrong with this ideology. This plants the idea into young girls minds that any sexual advances made at them, whether wanted or not, if their fault. Meanwhile, young boys are being taught how to be a player and have multiple girlfriends and how to lose their virginity. Not that I condone children engaging in sexual conduct, but why do we teach young girls that sex and sexuality is bad, while we teach young boys to engage in early sexual conduct and that it is okay for them. We teach our young boys to take pride and have confidence in their bodies, while we tell our young girls to "cover up".

I am not here for it. I refuse to raise my daughter with the mindset that her pure existence as a woman gives men the right to disrespect her verbally and physically. I refuses to raise my son with the mindset of sexual entitlement, that a woman owes his sex and her body just because they are in the same proximity as one another. I am not here for the woman bashing and especially against Black women. We are the most unprotected race of women on this here Earth.

OWN IT If everyone is responsible for their own lives, happiness, actions, etc., then men so are you. Own it. YOU are responsible for your actions. No one can force you to rape, abuse, and harass a woman except yourself. Take responsibility for both the good and bad that you do.

NO MEANS NO Nothing pisses me off more than a grown ass man practically begging for sex. Telling me "we're both grown" as if that will make me want to drop my panties even more. Respect the fact that I know that I am grown enough to make my own decisions concerning sex. Constantly gripping at my clothes, whining, and pulling me closer to you will not change my mind. If anything it makes you seem more annoying and now I'm less willing to have sex with you.

I DON'T OWE YOU My body is my body, not yours. I do not owe you sex, just like you don't owe me your paycheck. Many men, whether conscious or not about it, feel as if they are entitled to sex from women. I do not care if you took me on 20 dates, if I don't want to have sex with you, I don't have to. You can simply stop entertaining me and leave it there.

DRESS HOW YOU WANT TO BE ADDRESSED IS BULLSHIT You cannot apply this way of thinking solely to women and expect it to not be applied to the rest of the world, because it doesn't make sense. If we applied this ideology to our every day lives, most of us would feel rejected and scrutinized. My attire does not give any man the right to touch me without my permission. A woman's hijab doesn't give you the right the assume she's a terrorist. A White man in a business suit doesn't give you the right to assume he's wealthy. A Black man in athletic gear doesn't give you the right to assume he's uneducated. You get the point.