#sex organ

[soulinkpoetry]

Goosebumps arise from stimulating the mind first. Intriguing conversations that leave you wanting, craving, tingling.

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[x-letsbreaksomerules-x]

the fenris romance is great don’t get me wrong but it really was a Choice to have him remember his entire life in a single moment of absolutely mind blowing post-nut clarity. Imagine busting it once and you remember your whole life. Whose idea was this i need to congratulate them on creating the funniest way for an amnesiac character to have a crisis ever

[she-is-ovarit]

Data spanning from 1995 to 2021 in India revealed a striking gender imbalance in organ transplants, with four men getting organ transplants for every woman. A total of 36,640 transplants took place in this period, out of which 29,000 were for men and 6,945 for women.

This substantial difference is attributed to a complex interplay of economic responsibilities, societal pressures, and deeply ingrained preferences. 

Dr Anil Kumar, director of the government-run National Organ & Tissue Transplant Organisation (NOTTO) highlighted this significant aspect of the organ donation landscape.

While more men contribute as cadaver donors, a staggering 93 per cent of total organ donations in the country come from living donors, he told the Times of India newspaper. This hints at a trend: a majority of living organ donors are women.  Socio-economic factors a driving force for women donors? A study published in the Experimental and Clinical Transplantation Journal in 2021 delved into the intricacies of living organ transplantation in India. The findings showed that 80 per cent of living organ donors are women, predominantly wives or mothers. The socio-economic pressure on women to assume caregiving roles within the family emerges as a primary factor, compelling them to step forward as donors. Men's reluctance in surgery In many cases, men, often the primary breadwinners, hesitate to undergo surgery, contributing to the gender gap in organ recipients. The study highlights that when the recipient is a male breadwinner, family members, especially wives or parents, feel a heightened responsibility to donate organs. Emotional dynamics The emotional dynamics surrounding organ donation are intricate. Women recipients, in particular, may experience guilt when their family members, especially wives or mothers, become donors. This reluctance leads to a scenario where women recipients may find themselves on waiting lists.  Notably, Karnataka has topped the charts in organ donation in the past decade. The number of donations have risen from 102 in 2013 to 765 in the first 10 months of 2023. 

A user on Ovarit added this helpful context:

"Just a little more context to this: men produce male-specific proteins (on the Y chromosome) which often get rejected by women's bodies. Since males have an X chromosome, their bodies recognize proteins from female donors. This makes it more difficult for women to receive male tissue/organs, while still being acceptable candidates for donating to men. Even still, these ratios are very disproportionate".

"As women we absolutely need to be aware of our vulnerability of being used as spare parts in a man's world. Especially when we are being socialized into believing that we need to sacrifice our bodies and lives for others- and society has developed a sense of entitlement to this sacrifice, while downplaying the suffering of women."

[infectiouspiss]

guy who reads omegaverse fics not for the sex but because he's interested in fictional biology

[landlordevil]

I've got to feed to prove I'm fit

[ghouljams]

GHOUL I LOVE YOU BUT I’VE JUST BEEN BINGE READING (i don’t get yer notifs for some reason) AND I STUMBLED ACROSS DIE AND GHOST AND YOU CUT IT OFF RIGHT WHEN THEY WERE GONNA FUCK (or i assume so) AND SO

… may i humbly ask . may i . my lord ? my liege ? may we … get a snippet of Die and Ghosty . bc somehow i feel like their sex would either be Feral or Barely Enough To Call Sex and no in between

God yeah what would their sex be like? I think Die is so starved at this point that she's liable to try and drain Ghost dry, but at the same time she can't because he's technically in charge of her so she really has to ration because she doesn't know how much Ghost can take... hmm

The issue is that Ghost is an absolute bastard who's been eyeing his demon since she showed up.

Ghost grinds against you, and you hitch your legs around his waist, ankles crossed behind his back to keep him held tight and close. You're too quick to magic your skirts away.

"This what you needed? Cock keeps you off the corpses, yeah?" He murmurs, you nod and tilt your hips for a better angle. The tight hold you have on your control is fraying each time he rocks his clothed cock against your bare cunt. The desperate need he inspires in you, it's like dangling a gourmet meal in front of a starving child. You only have so much willpower, and being a demon cuts your desire to maintain it in half. You love frottage as much as the next demon but this isn't going to sate your hunger.

Your fingers fly to the waistband of his sweats, you dont want to rip the soft grey fabric under your all too eager hand, but some sacrifices must be made. Ghost stops his movements, letting you push his pants down, your fingers splayed greedily against the deep v of his hips, his skin warm and tight over the muscles if his stomach.

"Come on sweetheart, almost there," he teases, hardly twitching to help you towards your goal. With how little work he lets you do in the field you're surprised he's making you work for your dinner. You slide your hand lower, fingers wrapping around Ghost's rapidly hardening cock. He stays held for you even as you stroke him under his pants, but you can feel the way his muscles ache with the desire to thrust into your hand. All that delicious desire he's let build for you drools out the tip of his cock into your hand, slicking your grip so nicely you'd think it was magic. And who's to say it isnt?

You squeeze him a little harder than you normally would and he groans. Ghost hovers over you, his eyes dark through the opening of his balaclava. You suppose it's good he still wears it around you. You'd hate for him to be too familiar with the demon attached to his immortal soul.

Your lips part, head tipping to follow the way his eyes roll while you stroke his cock. Your thumb rubs against his stomach, dragging through his coarse pubic hair, feeling the muscles jump at your touch. He hums, his hips twitching forward into your hand. You make a similar questioning noise, half teasing him. Oh he feels good under your hands. You can only imagine what he'll feel like inside of you.

"Ah," you drop your chin to your chest as Ghost drops his head, his breathing beginning to grow heavier. You quite like the way his shoulders twitch, his biceps flexing as he holds himself still over you. "I thought you were going to fuck me," you coo, grip punishing as you stroke his fat cock. He deserves it for starving you.

"What're you doing to me," Ghost's voice is just at the edge of slurring, he sounds good like this. Although you quite like when he's barking orders too. He wanted to stay still and tease you, you're perfectly happy to enforce that magically.

"Nothing you weren't doing yourself." You breathe in his desire, feeling it fill your lungs as he shakes with repressed movement. Ghost grits his teeth, he could break the spell if he really wanted. You only hold so much power over your commanding officer after all. You'd almost think he likes this.

Ghost hisses out a breath through his teeth, and fixes you with a glare. His patience apparently having worn as thin as yours. Your good humor hitches, tumbling to simmer in your stomach. Your hand stills and your lieutenant bursts into motion.

Ghost's fingers wrap around your neck, pressing you hard against the mattress as he folds you in half. "Cheeky little bitch," he growls, your hands going to grip his wrist. You gasp, feeling him slick his cock against your wet cunt. The heavy heat of his cock drags through your folds, the blunt head catching against your hole again and again. He bumps against your clit and you jerk. He's still teasing you.

You open your mouth to complain and he spits into it, grip on your neck tightening to keep you from making a sound as he pushes every inch of his girthy cock into you. You want to scream at the way he breaks you open, forces your cunt to make room for him, but you can barely gasp for air. It hurts, the burn of the stretch pooling warmth through your muscles. You try to find purchase to claw at him but you're torn between the hand keeping you from drawing a breath and the cock dragging its veins against the aching walls of your cunt.

"Tha's it, you can take it." Ghost tells you as he bottoms out, grinding his cock deep inside you. He barely gives you time to adjust to him, his hips snapping another hard thrust, another mind breaking, pussy filling stretch. The worst part is he's right. You're made for this, made for him, and you love it. Slick gushes around him, working to ease the slide of his cock into you, and you clench around the length of him. Trying to keep him inside, trying to stay full.

His balls smack against your ass as he sets a punishing pace. His cock pounding deep into you, hitting your soft spots, veins dragging against your gummy insides, pouring aggression and desperation into you. He's using you like a toy, just like he should. You're his. His demon, a tool for him to use, to become an even more deadly force. He fucks you like he hopes it kills you. The slick sound of his cock pushing into your cunt filling the room under his panting groans.

Black fuzzes the edges of your vision, eyes rolling back as he shifts the angle of his hips to hit that toe curling sweet spot. You tap his wrist, feel his grip loosen enough for you to take a breath. Your throat is raw as you gasp and cough. He barely gives you a moment to collect a breath before his cock is forcing whines from you.

"Fuck, Ghost," you moan, tipping your head back, unable to arch when he's forcing you down against the bed. You stare at the barrack wall, at the way the light casts shadows over the stone. The spring in your stomach coiling tighter, your cunt gushing more slick with each punishing thrust of Ghost's cock, coating your thighs and dripping onto the bed.

You had no doubt that Ghost deserved you, but... the shadows. The stretch of black wings across the wall, the arching horns of a broken halo, the very devil himself in human form reflected in Ghost's shadow. The angel of death.

"God," you breath in awe. Ghost grabs your face, forces you to look at him, his eyes like molten rock. The heat from them drips into your veins. Makes sweat bead on your skin.

"He's not here sweetheart," Ghost tells you, and you abandon clawing at his grip on your throat to grab his face. You pull him down to kiss him through the mask, hardly caring that it's fabric and not lips you're kissing. Ghost pulls back, his hand leaving your throat to pull the balaclava up, before he's kissing you properly. Messy. Desperate. Hungry.

He snakes a hand between you to circle his thumb over your clit and you jerk against him. Sparks shoot up your spine, your hips bucking to follow the thrust of his cock. Your legs are starting to shake, cunt clenching around him as you whimper. "Good girl," he mumbles between kisses, "pretty little slag. Let me feel you."

You gasp against his lips, shuddering at what you're sure he didn't mean as an order. It pulls you just the same. Drags you through the heat and pops the lever on your orgasm, the spring unrolling as you shake under him. Ghost fucks you through it, his pace never slowing from the mad desperation, chasing his own release. He presses his hips hard against you, stilling with a low groan, his cock buried deep inside your clenching cunt. You feel his cum fill you, hot and thick. Deep shallow thrusts pumping you full as the rush of potent magical energy from Ghost's release fills your stomach better than any physical meal could.

Ghost takes a moment, enjoying the soft warmth of your cunt before pulling out. He tries to ignore the soft look in your eye as he rolls off of you to settle back on the bed. It's easier to ignore than the-

"You purring?" He asks, feeling you stretch next to him.

"Don't worry about it," you mumble, moving to cuddle up against his chest. Ghost raises an arm to wrap around you, keeping you held close as you tug his sweats back up. Maybe this demon thing isn't so bad.

[canadian-radfems]

🍁Discord server for radfems in Canada!🍁

•Plenty of channels to talk in

•Update channels automatically share videos and tweets made by women like Radical Ramblings and JKR

•Voice and video channels (movie night movies decided by vote)

•Plenty of emojis, stickers, and username colours to choose from (and more on the way!)

•And of course, private channels for each province.

(these can be used for organizing meet-ups!) Only members with a provinces role -along with admins- can see it's respective channel. For example- Members in Quebec can't even see the Ontario chat on the side bar, let alone access it. To get a province role, members must either include their province in their intro, or ask an admin for one.

This server is for chatting about anything, not just radical feminism, but you have to be a radfem (or rad-adjacent) to join it. This creates a comfortable online space where you are free to speak openly about feminism without getting harassed. (and can still talk about your favorite indie game or whatever)

Of course there is also channels specifically for radical feminism, gender criticism, and citing sources.

(non Canadians please boost-thank you!)

[nerdykeppie]

Funding comprehensive & queer sex ed and getting a chance new NK stuff you can't even buy yet?

Yeah, that's a double win.

The new Classic Backpack in Gilbert Baker Splatter Wave & the new waterproof travel bag in Progress Pride Lemurs are part of this week's Scarleteen raffle! Click here to pick up raffle tickets for these and other amazing prizes. :D

NerdyKeppie is proud to sponsor queer, inclusive sex ed. 💗

[possibilistfanfiction]

omg hallmark au?!? how abt christmas tree?

[uh. there's a tree at the end lol]

//

beatrice kisses you. it’s snowing outside and smells like pine and cinammon and her cologne and you’ve kissed her before, in an alley in the dark, but the light from the fireplace here is gentle and bathes her in warmth and she kisses you. it’s a revelation, you think, to be kissed like this, with your eyes closed and a tender hand combing through your hair and the whole world tucked away somewhere else, off this mountainside and hundreds of miles over valleys and rivers and roads away from you here, and now.

beatrice kisses you and you tug on the bottom of her fleece and pull it over her head, the t-shirt underneath coming with it, and a million thoughts run through your head — she’s ripped, first of all, a delight you will revisit soon; the scars that stretch across her flat chest aren’t overwhelmingly surprising, not old but not new either, gorgeous and healed and healing, so much of her unspoken that she wants you to understand; she has a few freckles on her strong shoulders — but she’s looking at you like this is a lot more than a fling while you’re running away from your real life.

you think it clearly, then: this is your real life, too. this is real. beatrice is real.

you trace one of her scars, just for a moment, and then let your fingers trail lightly down her stomach.

‘you’re so beautiful,’ you say and hope it’s right, hope it’s enough.

beatrice, stoic and kind and faithful, takes it in, her eyes meeting yours, gold in the light, and then she smiles softly. ‘you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen.’

you feel the weight of her jaw in the palm of your hand when you bring it to her face; the lightness of it, sharp and soft. i love you runs through your head, unbidden, i’m in love with you, but it’s too much and too soon and you’ll leave anyway, and this isn’t home but it isn’t something else entirely either.

‘please,’ is all you can say, but she seems to understand because she kisses you deeply, like there’s something there she’s searching to tell you. you sink into it, let it wash over you with its warmth.

////

the sheets are still warm when you wake, even though the bed is empty. you don’t mind; the world is heavy sometimes, and you understand.

you take your time to stretch, to wiggle your toes, to flex your hands. it doesn’t escape you, even still, the miracle of touch and movement, the life you have that seems, despite the days that feel intolerable, bigger than you could’ve dreamed.

you put on one of her hoodies — soft and warm and smelling of laundry detergent and a little like her cologne, musk and clove and fresh pine, like this place, an unnamable magic — and pad out to the living room. she’s on the couch looking out over the mountains, snow covered, from her huge a-frame windows, theo asleep at her feet. beatrice seems larger than life sometimes, her seriousness and kindness and strength, her bright, quiet laugh — another magic entirely.

she smiles, small and shy, when you curl up next to her and take her coffee with a wink.

‘this is… disgusting,’ you say, surprised to taste at least three spoonfuls of sugar, and you wait a beat before you both laugh. ‘i would’ve thought you had black coffee, very solemn.’

‘i’m still not quite used to the taste, admittedly, but i thought you might like some instead of tea.’

it’s thoughtful in a way that makes you want to cry, but instead you clear your throat and lean into her side.

you stay like that for a while, her strong arm wrapped around your shoulders and theo snoring softly every now and then. it’s a bluebird day outside, bright and clear and beautiful.

‘even though you’re leaving,’ she says after a while, ‘i’m thankful i’ve known you.’

it aches in your chest, this desire to never move from this spot, to stop running once and for all, to rest in this warm house with its glass wall and the mountains — flowers in the spring, orange leaves in the fall — a home.

she continues, ‘i would’ve longed for you forever, i think, if we hadn’t met.’

and — what do you even say to that? when you imagined this little adventure, you had thought you’d spend quiet days in a silly little town, drink some hot chocolate, instagram the view of the mountains from your window; maybe — maybe — going home with the town hottie and leaving before they woke. you take a deep breath and look at the soft planes of beatrice’s face and then the big, full christmas tree in the corner of the room that camila told you she cut down herself, its carefully strung lights and a few unexpectedly silly ornaments. you can imagine all of it, her care and quiet humor; you had ached, for so long, to be treated with kindness, to be seen and found whole.

you hadn’t expected her — how could you?

‘well,’ you say, your voice rough in your throat, but she gives you the same grace as always, allowing you to clear it without comment, ‘i haven’t left yet.’

she braves a smile. ‘that’s true.’

‘take me back to bed?’

she stands, unfolds herself elegantly and offers her hand. you think you could hold it forever, but your plane leaves this evening and your life looms. still, you kiss her and, after she comes, trace words you can’t say into the soft skin on her back; you think about saying them aloud, but you don’t.

[aromanticduck]

As a sex-repulsed asexual who dislikes the taste of alcohol, I can draw a few parallels between the two things.

The idea that you just haven't found the right person, or a drink that you like, yet.

Being told you need to try instead of assuming you don't like something (even though you've hated every other alcohol you've tried/you've never liked the idea of sex)

People thinking you're prudish and no fun, or worse, assuming you judge people who do like alcohol/sex.

Being seen as childish because drinking/sex makes you grown up.

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

5

(F I V E)

5. What's your controversial marine biology take? Oh, have I been talking about my controversial takes these past few days! Ocean sunfish.... beautiful, so silly but so beautiful.

To name another thing, perhaps this is moreso something that grinds my gears rather than a controversial take but I haaaaate when people say that male seahorses get pregnant. It's what it looks like but it's not the case!!! He just has a pouch where the egg are deposited for safekeeping, it's like mouthbrooding but with a designated pouch!! He does not produce the eggs and all the nutrition the eggs receive was never from him!!! Perhaps I get too hung up on these aquatic animal technicalities, but it still makes me needlessly annoyed whenever in fiction there's like, seahorses, and they imply that the process of seahorse baby development is the exact same as human baby development but.... backwards for sexes..?

[beansssssssss]

Vidyadhara canonically cannot reproduce. Yueyuan in the alchemy commission tells us this very explicitly:

If you are desperate this could also implies they don’t have reproductive organs. Even if you aren’t, the whole reincarnation thing means there is no need for reproductive organs and they should be canonically ace because there is no biological incentive for sex or organs. Why tf is there so much mpreg for the man who is physically unable to reproduce (more so than you average man). Also, man is basically a platapus, they are born out of eggs, why does he have babies that are not eggs in fanon?

Instead of canon diverging Dan Heng’s organs maybe we could instead have slay ace representation and take the opportunity to explore his relationship with other characters!

[aviomons]

who has a fixation on vampires?? not me! i don't!! trust!! (lying)

[coochiequeens]

“My bar has always been an inclusive bar,” she said. “Trans people should be respected and have rights, and lesbian women who are born female should also have a space for themselves.” “If the young woman said: I prefer women, then the trans woman was offended and cried transphobia. But this young woman is not transphobic, it’s just a matter of consent, she doesn’t like penises, since she’s a lesbian!”

A lesbian bar that has operated in Rennes, France for nearly a decade has been forced to close its doors following a disturbing swell of vandalism and death threats by trans activists. Orane Guéneau, the owner and manager of lesbian bar La Part des Anges, was publicly denounced as “transphobic” and accused of “misgendering” by critics.

Speaking with Ouest France, Guéneau said she made the decision to shut down the venue to protect her employees in response to increased aggression, both online and at her storefront. On April 14, four unnamed trans activists spray painted the menacing message “Fuck TERFs,” accompanied by a trans symbol, on the front door of the venue during activities that were aimed at opposing national pension reform.

“I have to close after the attack that we experienced,” Guéneau told Ouest France. “The window was tagged and a pane was broken, it was hyperviolent for employees and customers, and the bar was full.”

A few days before the acts of vandalism were committed, Guéneau made a book critical of trans activism available to her patrons. 

Titled When Girls Become Boys and written by Marie-Jo Bonnet, her detractors considered the act to be representative of her “coming out” as transphobic, and condemned her on social media. 

But the backlash was not limited to vandalism and social media condemnation, Guéneau also started to receive threatening messages scrawled on paper slipped under her door last month, some of which read: “Save a trans, commit suicide,” and “One bullet, one TERF.” 

Guéneau faced further harassment throughout the month of May when a local chapter of the French feminist organization Nous Toutes published a statement calling for their supporters to boycott the bar. 

“In Rennes or elsewhere: no feminism without trans people,” reads the call to action from Nous Toutes 35. “For several years, people from the Queer community have been denouncing attacks against them in a bar in Rennes: La Part des Anges. These recurring assaults are all the more problematic since this bar claims an identity as a lesbian and feminist bar.”

The statement continues: “Therefore, it’s important that this bar finally gets massively denounced. We would also like to call on the various political, activist or cultural organizations to stop organizing with this bar… transphobes have no place in our struggles.”

In response to the statement from Nous Toutes 35, Guéneau announced that she had filed a complaint for defamation, harassment and cyber-harassment.

Yet despite the claims of “transphobia,” Guéneau has said that her venue has always been accepting of people who claim to be transgender. 

“My bar has always been an inclusive bar,” she said. “Trans people should be respected and have rights, and lesbian women who are born female should also have a space for themselves.”

However, tensions have escalated over the past five years as Guéneau defended lesbian patrons who were being harassed by men who self-identified as women and attended the venue seeking sex.

On multiple occasions, Guéneau told Charlie Hebdo, trans-identified males came to the lesbian bar to flirt with same-sex attracted women. 

“If the young woman said: I prefer women, then the trans woman was offended and cried transphobia. But this young woman is not transphobic, it’s just a matter of consent, she doesn’t like penises, since she’s a lesbian!”

Women’s rights campaigner and founder of FemellisteMarguerite Stern shared her support for Guéneau, and questioned the accusations of “misgendering” leveled against her. Stern also placed blame for some of the harassment Guéneau endured in part on Nous Toutes for their public condemnation of the venue.

Nous Toutes, the liberal feminist group spearheading the harassment of the lesbian bar, has previously attacked causes they deemed to be “transphobic.”

In 2022, the group announced it would no longer provide data on domestic femicides due to concerns over the sex-based data being used by “transphobes.”

Nous Toutes had originally been founded to provide public insight into violence against women and girls in France, but launched into a social media war with another anti-femicide campaign group over transgenderism. 

After Féminicides Par Compagnons ou Ex accurately reported that no trans-identified males had been murdered by domestic violence in France in 6 years, Nous Toutes responded by suspending their release of any data related to the murder of women and girls in the nation, claiming that the information was “oppressive” and “otherwise illegal.”

Nous Toutes then convened to determine how to make their femicide data reporting more “inclusive,” floating strategies which included counting general transphobia as femicide.

Violence against women critical of gender ideology is a regular occurrence in France, with multiple instances of women being physically attacked for not accepting the concept that trans-identified males were “female” being recorded over the past two years.

Reduxx previously reported on violence breaking out at French pro-woman events deemed “transphobic,” including on International Women’s Day in 2021 and 2022 when a number of women were left with injuries from rampaging trans activists. 

In April of this year, a symposium intended to raise awareness of the plight of Afghan and Iranian women was abruptly postponed after trans activists threatened to violently ambush the event because of the presence of a gender critical speaker.

By Genevieve Gluck

Genevieve is the Co-Founder of Reduxx, and the outlet's Chief Investigative Journalist with a focused interest in pornography, sexual predators, and fetish subcultures. She is the creator of the podcast Women's Voices, which features news commentary and interviews regarding women's rights.

[thepromiscuousfinger]

Me, passionately yelling describing to my coworker about how casual intimacy is a thing and should be celebrated in writing