#“I want to have sex as a cis woman” well you never will so might as well make peace with that
Note
The rapist rhetoric really jumped out on this one
https://archive.is/WJ9gW
"I would do so much worse than fuck them while stealth if I could" you want to clarify that bro?
Ahhh and then there's the racism too.
#radblr#terfblr#radical feminism#gender critical#“I want to have sex as a cis woman” well you never will so might as well make peace with that
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A Simple Request For An Unsimple Man (Gale x Fem!Oc Tav)
Author's note: Hello, it's certainly been a minute since I've been able to post fic here without worrying about formatting bullshit (love so much that my longest running fic can't be posted here because it relies on italics/formatting techniques within the first 50ish chapters and tumblr makes that a headache)But, I've found myself sinking a bit into BG3/Gale hell and after some prompting my @shallow-gravy about a comment I left about Gale being able to summon a bed, I decided this might be a fun idea and oops have a thirty page one shot! So, have something featuring my tav- Petra and Gale. Still not sure of what I"m doing with these characters, but hey~
Summary: Petra and Gale are more than a little clumsy in the ways that they love, both having their own significant dry spell when it comes to romance and sexual desires. And while the two have shared themselves within the weave, Petra has made a simple request to share their physical bodies as well. Gale is not good at simple.
Warnings: Unprotected vaginal sex, praise kinks, creampies, cunnilingus (tav/petra in this is a cis female woman), fingering, mutual masturbation, tooth-rotting fluff (turns out I write fluff now), soft!dom Gale, and magical sex mishaps.
Petra's mind has been a maelstrom of worries for quite a while now, however, if someone had told her that amidst tadpoles, cults, and shadow cursed lands that her mind would be consumed with matters of the heart and loins- well, she'd think they were crazy.
But, perhaps she's the crazy one.
She never expected to love again, never expected to find someone who felt like home, or makes her heart stutter on every other beat. But she never expected to have a tadpole shoved into her eye or to pull a wizard from a stone- let alone for that very wizard be the one doing this to her. Life is full of surprises, as is her lover.
Ugh, gods- she has a lover.
The very thought makes her face burn, her heart pound, and her guts twist. If she didn't know any better she'd think herself ill, but alas- she's learned that's merely Gale's influence on her. The wizard needed no charms or illusions to win her affection, but he warned her early on- well before either of them had realized what was growing between them, that he had a taste for grand gestures.
And grand they were.
He conjured her stars and shifting auroras against an ink black night, he showed her his home, his sanctuary without her needing to step a foot into Waterdeep. And he plucked their very souls from their bodies, to kiss and touch and merge within a realm beyond their own. Glittering blue forms, never knowing quite where his touch ended and hers began, surrounded and consumed by him. An electric blur of his touch over her very being.
She would have been content with a flower and a bowl of his deer stew, but who is she to turn down the adoration fueled gestures of a man she does not deserve.
Which in part is why she can't help but suspect she might be being just a touch greedy…
Made all the worse by her greed and insecurity tugging her mind back and forth between them like rabid dogs would a slice of steak.
In some ways she's already done the hardest part, confessing her desire to Gale felt like a herculean task in itself, a stumble of poorly put together words while her face burned hotter than Karlach's engine. But ultimately, she got the message across and Gale as always was far too eager to oblige.
Though, he seems intent to oblige her request in his Gale way of obliging.
Because, you see, her request is incredibly simple. Despite her anxiety and insecurity- she wants to fuck Gale the old fashioned way. She loved the way they bonded before and truly will jump to do it again, but she just can't help but also want the more mundane variety. To feel flesh and bone, to touch his skin, to press her lips against his throat and feel his pulse race beneath her tongue. This of course means he'll also be seeing her naked properly without blue blurry auras smoothing out her every- less excited for that, but her desire for him outweighs her shame for herself.
And this simple request, frankly- could have been sated nearly the moment it was made in the privacy of his tent. He needed only to roll her onto her back or pull her to straddle his hips, a few garments tossed aside, the dark providing her with some some cloaking while still getting to feel and see him- gods bless darkvision.
But that would be far too simple, her request instead met with a wide smile a; "Say no more, consider it done, my love," a kiss goodnight, and the looming knowledge that he was planning something.
So, perhaps surprise is too strong a word when she returns to camp after a brief walk alone to find her companions snickering and Gale's mirror image standing outside his tent. Thin ripples of weave radiating through an otherwise perfect copy of her favorite wizard. She knows it could be perfect, saw him make one perfect before- the imperfections intentional, to let her know it's not him and instead a messenger.
Petra skirts past her chattering friends, pretending she doesn't feel several sets of eyes following her as she stands before the replication of her dearest. Who merely beams with that bright smile that she's come to adore, even if it's merely a simulacrum of it.
"Heh, I take it Gale has some plans for us tonight?" She whispers towards the mirror image, trying to keep prying ears from learning too much. Not that her and Gale are secretive about their relationship by any means, but not every one of their friends needs to know when they're having sex.
"That he does and I have the most wonderous task of taking you to see him, words cannot begin to express how eager he is to see you tonight," the mirror image chirps, not even a hint of shame or volume control as his eyes burn with that same flame of adoration the real Gale always seems to carry- her face flushing beneath its heat.
"Ugh, hells you two are going to make me throw up a perfectly good meal, would you please take your simpering gazes elsewhere," Astarion calls out from around the campfire, a hint of a smile in his words, then his lips when Petra turns to glower at him.
"I hardly think whatever shadow cursed vermin you've managed to snack on out here counts as a good meal- but rest assured, I am leaving."
"But of course- after all your little magician is so very eager," he mocks again and if he weren't her friend, she'd kick his arse- still might.
"Oh lay off her, Fangs- it's cute, like two pups wagging their tails at each other."
"I believe nauseating is the word you're looking for," Shadowheart chimes in, "I mean really, not a drop of shame between the two, every time he leaves behind one of those mirror images- he might as well just declare that they're about to go rut around in the woods all night."
"Date nights are perfectly healthy for a newly bonded couple-"
"Dates- is that what you think they're doing out there? In the middle of nowhere, alone- you think they're, what, chatting about their favorite books over a glass of wine?" Astarion cuts Wyll off, incredulous that he would refer to Petra and Gale's outings as a date.
"I mean, wouldn't really be all that shocked if they were- it is Gale, after all…"
"Regardless, I think seeing our friends form such a union is something to be celebrated not mocked."
"Their carnal desires are hardly any of our concern, so long as they remain vigilant in battle- however, I must say I do find it curious that the wizard always seeks to be hunted, he might as well submit outright if he cannot best her in combat."
"Oh, I'm sure he does plenty of submitting."
"I don't know 'bout that, Petra may be bossier but look at the poor thing- redder than a devil's arsehole, probably turns into a mess the moment clothes start comin' off."
Petra grasps the mirror image's arm, her face burning hot and no doubt just as red as Karlach said. She hisses between gritted teeth; "Get me the fuck out of here."
"Your wish is my command, now- let us find more pleasant company," he assures her, quickly walking her away from the camp as their friends speculate about their sex life.
"And by that, you mean yourself," she teases, leaning against the mirror image's arm. The conjured form isn't a perfect match, both from the rippling static like eminence of weave and it being a little less shameful than her Gale. But it carries his warmth, his smell- like the innards of an old library, cozy and welcoming.
"Would you have it any other way?"
"Gods no," she admits, burrowing her face into his arm, hiding her flushed cheeks from his view.
"Careful now, I'd hate to be jealous of myself," Gale's voice rings out, more alive, more human and not right beside her- her head shoots up, the sky is bathed in shifting colors and twinkling lights. Her Gale just a short walk away; "Though I can hardly blame you, he is quite handsome."
And that’s all she needs, letting go of the mirror image, the half-elf rushes towards him- the real him, a small laugh escaping Gale’s lips as she throws her arms around him. As nice as the fake one is, it will never feel as good as touching the real thing. His heat seeping in between their clothes, warming her skin- that must of old books and lavender offset slightly by the salt of his sweat. His large hands holding her in kind, one settling on the small of her back and the other stroking through her hair. She takes a deep breath, a heavy inhale and exhale of him, before finally lifting her head ever so slightly- enough to look up at him,
The way he looks at her could melt all of Frostfell. Those soft brown eyes looking at her like she’s hung the stars and moon, all the while he’s the one who’s conjured the sky above them.
“A good evening to you too,” he greets, smiling so sweetly and she stands up on her tiptoes- Gale meeting her need as she presses a kiss to that very smile. The warm press of his mouth against hers sending heat and butterflies through her very veins, she breaks back before she can get carried away. Not wanting to ruin his plans, but struggling to stifle the desire to kiss him until her lungs ache.
“Good evening,” she hums back instead, squeezing him tighter, her eyes looking around the wide field bathed in the glow of soft purples and blues. It’s largely familiar, the same space and view he created the night he brought their very souls together- when he confessed his fear, his love, and so much more. Where she pleaded for him to stay, for him to live.
Though with one very new addition to the expanse of field- an extraordinarily out of place bed. Lavish and lush with deep indigo blankets, bathed in the glow of the sky and the burning of a torch mounted in the ground beside it- the addition betraying the reason they’re here tonight.
“You know what I can’t help but notice?” Petra remarks after a beat of silence, a quiet moment of simply sinking into one another’s hold- blinking up at her wizard.
“My dashing good looks?”He asks, a small smile and a raise of his brow.
“Mm, yes, but no more than usual,” she plays along, smiling against him. Knotting her fingers in the plush purple of his tunic,debating on if she should slip her hands beneath the fabric- wanting to feel more of his skin.
“My brilliant mind and ever expanding intellect?”
“Well, that just goes without saying,” she assures him, heaping on the praise for him.
“Hmm, than it must be my veritable wealth of charm and wit.”
“Close and before you ask- no, it’s not your modesty either,” she teases, scratching her nails over his back through his shirt- trying to sate her ache to touch him, “What I can’t help but notice is that whenever you pull me away for a night via your mirror image- it seems to mean I’m the one left dealing with the whispers of our companions.”
He grimaces slightly, somewhat between amusement and annoyance; “Ah, yes, a… much unfortunate consequence, but one we simply can’t avoid, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, is that so?” She teases, laughing through her smile, “Funny how that unavoidable consequence seems to benefit you.”
“Life is full of those funny little mysteries, I think it wise to embrace- not question, these curiosities.”
“Thats quite a fancy way of saying you intend to keep throwing me to the wolves,” she chirps, pulling a hand back to slap him playfully in the ribs, he merely laughs because he knows exactly what he’s doing; “Do you know that right now, at this very moment- our friends gossiping like hens about which one us… takes the lead?”
“Ah, yes, I’m… terribly sorry to have missed that conversation.”
“And yet, I suspect you’re not sorry at all,” she comments, reaching upward she strokes through his hair- tracing a streak of gray that curls around his ear, soft brown strands slipping between her fingers. He’s so lucky he’s so damned adorable.
“Oh, but I am- absolutely contrite that I could not steal you away before their sordid chatter reached your ears- after all, I’m no more keen on our proclivities being the subject of discussion than you are,” he admits and she hums, a small smirk on her lips as he continues on, trying to insist he definitely feels bad about leaving the gossipy shit for her to handle.
“Perhaps not, but you do seem keen on leaving me to handle it.” She points out again, cradling his jaw- his beard scratching her palm as she rubs her thumb along his cheekbone. Petra often wonders if he minds the callouses that cling to her skin. Her flesh so much rougher than his, he leans into her touch, presses his jaw to her hand.
“And my apologies are most sincere, however if you still find yourself unconvinced- perhaps I can show you the depth of my remorse?” He asks, pressing his forehead to hers, lips a breath away, “You need only ask, demand any penance you deem fit- and I will gladly pay it.”
“Is that so?”
“There is no sin against you, no matter size or severity, that I would not repent for.”
“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t mind a kiss,” she admits, the only thought on her mind when his face is so close to hers- when his lips are just a breath away. When one tilt of her head, one jolt would crash their lips together.
“Hmm, I think you may not have a full understanding of what penance means, my dear, typically-”
“Gale,” she says, looking up at him with the sternest eyes she can manage- no doubt stopping him from prattling off the definition of penance. Because she’s in love with a sentient thesaurus.
“Yes.”
“You have until the count of three to kiss me and if you don’t- I’m going to bite you,” she threatens, not sure how much she wants him to listen- she does like biting him, “One-”
“Thinking over my options,” he chimes, sing songy as he seems equally unsure of which choice he likes more.
“Two.”
“I do rather like your love bites, but your kisses are quite enchanting as well.”
“Thr-”
His lips press to hers, deeper than before. One of her hands twists in his tunic, the other in the his hair. He cradles her jaw and lower back, pulling each other closer, she can’t help the small sigh of happiness and bliss as his tongue pushes into her mouth. The faintest taste of his cooking still on his tongue, a hint of mint where he tried to clear it out- maybe she should have been so kind.
Their kisses are still clumsy, a slightly awkward press and swirl of tongues, both single and isolated for a year or more. But it feels like warmth and love and home in a way she can’t define, heat simmering between her thighs when the hand on her back moves lower. A broad palm playfully squeezing at her ass, tugging her closer, the grope of his fingers sinking into the plush of her flesh- a soft moan echoing from her throat, muffled by his tongue.
They break apart, breathing ragged- hot puffs of air across each other’s lips. She can feel the heat clinging to the apples of her cheeks, mirrored in the flush that creeps beneath Gale’s beard. Petra grins up at his beautiful red face, the brown of his eyes nearly swallowed by the black of his pupil.
“Three,” she whispers, catching his lower lip between her teeth and nipping playfully at the kiss swollen flesh. Gale groans, deep and throaty, sending molten heat right to her cunt. His lips pulls out from between her teeth as he pulls her into a desperate hungered kiss.
It’s deeper than the last, even more ravenous and rough, both of his hands now groping at her backside- kneading at her flesh, feeling his fingers sinking into the plush of her flesh through her clothing. Wishing his hands were beneath her clothes, on her skin, pressing into her properly.
She tugs at his hair, scratches her nails along his scalp as he kisses her deeper and deeper, her lungs burning by the time she feels the back of her thighs bumping something soft. Breaking off the kiss to see she’s somehow been staggered back to the bed. It’s plush blankets and rows of pillows beckoning her. She can’t help but giggle.
“Couldn’t settle for a dirty bedroll, could you?” She teases, stealing another soft kiss.
“The least I could do for your comfort, time spent together in the flesh should be no less beautiful than that spent in the celestial- whatever way you’ll have me, I wish only to make it perfect for you.”
“Then… wish no more,” she murmurs, voice soft as she avoids the intensity of his gaze, the adoration that consumes his words and expression, “You’re here with me, I could not imagine anything more perfect than that.”
“Careful now, keep talking that way- you may never be rid of me,” he tries to joke, to tease- but when she forces herself to look back up at him, she can see the flush of his cheeks deepening as his smile widens.
And with everything that still hangs in the air- Mystra’s unreasonable request, the knowledge that a part of him still doesn’t feel certain of whether he’ll see the end of this journey. The fact he may still make that choice, that he very well still might leave her in some desperate attempt to save the world. She throws her arms tight around his neck, latches her nails into his skin as she tugs him closer, closer. His nose bumping her own, his forehead back flush against hers.
“I truly hope that I could be so lucky,” she rushes out, reiterating her wish- her plead again. That he’ll stay here with her, that she will never be rid of him- that on the other side of this whole ordeal is a future where his story stays enmeshed with her own. That she’ll not have to lose another love, not sure her heart could stand it.
Then it’s another clash of lips, tongue, and teeth- not even sure who started this one, both desperate to get their mouths on each other. And for a moment, she feels herself lifted, feet off the air- she giggles into his kiss before the world shifts every so slightly, her back thumping down onto the soft blankets. Her weight sinking into the plush of the mattress, Gale smiling at her lowers a knee to the bed and climbs up, settling above her.
Adoration, the word comes to mind over and over again whenever he looks at her. Brown eyes soft and clear with nothing but that emotion, letting it sink in through her skin and into her bones, consuming her wholly. She never thought she loved brown eyes so much, disliking her own for so long- but on him they’re so beautiful. Warm and filled with more love than she’s could ever hope to deserve.
She cups his face and pulls him down for another kiss, never satisfied. He said before that moment with her could sate him for a lifetime and while the sentiment still rattles her to her very soul- she can’t say she relates, feeling as if she could have a million with him and still beg for one more, for another, another, another. Not enough time in the universe for how much she wishes to spend with him.
Her hands tug at his tunic, reaching one beneath- no longer able to suppress the desperate need to just touch him. To feel his skin beneath her fingers, warm flesh and coarse body hair, the soft skin of his stomach. A layer of plush with a hint of firmer muscle beneath, when she presses a little harder. Their lips part again as Gale leans back onto his knees, which sink into the bed on either side of her hips.
She skims her hands down his hips and thighs as Gale grips at his shirt, tugging it off- carefully putting it aside. Petra’s eyes roaming the open exposed flesh of his chest and stomach. The celestial version of him gorgeous, but not truly doing him justice. Smooth glowing blue aura not showing the dark body hair that scatters across his chest, trailing down his stomach and leading to below his waistband. The occasional freckle and even rarer scar that decorate his skin.
Even the mark on his chest, the symbol where the orb took root in his chest. Bruised in the middle, tendrils sweeping out from it- the ones that curl up the left side of his throat growing fainter as they stretch out to vanish beneath his beard- connected faintly to the prominent veins that ghost below his eye. She hates what that thing has done to him, how it’s hurt him- how it’s not being used as a threat against his very life, but even that she finds beautiful on his flesh. The mark of his mistakes, of his devotion to one who never deserved it, proof of him as a man who sought love in worship. His folly is as much a part of the man she loves as every virtue he carries in kind.
“Fuck,” she curses, all the words she can utter as she gazes at him. Admiring every inch of his body that’s been revealed to her. Realizing she’s rarely seen him shirtless, not counting the celestial plane and a few brief, awkward mistakes while navigating river baths in the early days of their travel. How odd that they’ve been so deeply intimate, yet she can’t say she’s seen him fully naked.
Which means he has yet to see her fully naked as well- which scares her even more than the tadpole gnawing at the inside of her skull.
“If you ever sought to deflate my ego, I must say- you’re doing a terrible job at it,” he teases, a brilliant grin on his face as her own burns with heat.
"As if I'd ever embark on a such a fool's errand," she taunts, skimming her hands upward and feeling the heat of his skin. Raking her nails along his lower stomach, feeling the muscles tense beneath her hand, biting her tongue to not make any comments about belly rubs.
"Hmm, given your…tendencies, forgive me if I remain unconvinced."
She lets out a breath of a laugh- "You know, you're astoundingly disagreeable, for a man attempting to bed me."
"Not to add to the matter, but I do believe we've past the point of 'attempting.'"
"I swear to the gods, I'm gonna learn magic just so I can cast silence on you one of these days," she threatens, pinching playfully at his flesh.
"And I'd be honored to teach you, but for now- I hope finding other uses for my mouth will suffice," he offers, dipping down to kiss her again, bracing one hand to the pillows by her head- the other cupping her jaw. His thumb brushing along her cheekbone, a soft sigh muffled by his tongue pushing into her mouth. Her hands roam his torso, unable to settle fully on which part of him she wants to touch- his stomach, chest, sides, back, and shoulders all feeling so perfect beneath her fingers.
His warm wide palm brushes down her jaw to her neck, heat and sparks rising to her skin wherever his fingers touch. Unable to help the way she squirms beneath his mouth and hands, the soft noises she whimpers into his kiss, against his tongue as her own presses into his mouth in kind. Burning heat aches between her thighs, barely touched but even the faintest of his kisses or the briefest brush of his fingers pulls desperation from her very soul. Pathetic in her need for him,
Gale's hand leaves her skin for a moment, already cold without his touch, she drags her nails along his shoulder blades- tries to pull him down closer. Then his hand finds her ribs, presses against her side molten warm on her chilled skin. Caught between relishing in the brush of his fingers and the way her insecurities make her body go rigid. Her hope that he may not notice dashed the moment their kiss breaks apart, ragged breath and flushed face not betraying the concern that knits his brows- the worry carved into every line of his face.
"Is everything alright?" He asks, voice lower and rougher, lips swollen and wet- strands of hair beginning to fall and stick against the sweat that beads along his forehead.
"Yeah, yes, of course," she insists, her own voice rougher than she expects as she tries to cram down the bubble of anxiety in her ches- desperate not to ruin her or Gale's night.
"Petra, I would never claim you to be an open book, but you are one that I feel most adept at reading- though, I could still clearly still use some slight guidance and for that I'll need your words. Tell me what is wrong, so I may make it right, please," he tries again, with more words and more conviction- his hand lifting to brush her hair behind her ear, his thumb dragging along the sensitive point. A little chill curls along her spine in response.
"It's nothing, really," she murmurs, smoothing her palm along his neck- tracing along the tendrils of blacked raised flesh that curls from the orb. Wondering again, if the callouses and scars of her hands bother him.
His hands are softer than hers, more versed in flipping book pages and casting spells than hunting or stealing. He's mentioned spas and bathhouses in Waterdeep, and she wonders what balms or lotions he'd be using were their supplies not so limited. He's not without his scars, she knows- but even the raised flesh feels softer on his body than hers. Subtle faded burns from cooking and casting mishaps alike, a raised crease on his forehead from summoning a toy he wanted as a child- only to have the wooden train set appear and thunk down atop his head.
Her scars and memories aren't so kind. No stories as sweet or kind. No fuzzy nostalgia for raised lashmarks on her back or thighs. No warm feelings about the scar across her lip, the only thing her mother deemed fit to let her keep, the same scar Gale must feel every time they kiss.
Gale has suffered truly and she would never suggest otherwise, she'd sooner fist fight Mystra than deny the pain he's endured, the pain he is still enduring. However, when he hears him talk of his childhood, his mother, Tara, his education- she can't help but feel like a tragedy in comparison. A pitiful thing next to him. Nowhere near worthy of his adoration, his efforts, his love…
"If it weighs on your mind, then it is not nothing."
"Okay, so… it's nothing, but it is silly," she tells him, scratching her thumbnail through his beard, hoping to distract him.
"Then if it is so silly and inconsequential, there will be no harm in telling me, will there?" He says, her nose wrinkling, he's so stubborn, "My aim is not to push you into telling me anything, but what kind of man would I be to notice your discomfort and continue on as if I hadn't?"
"Okay, okay- if you must make sense," she huffs and pouts, chews on her lip and avoids his gaze as she turns her head to the side, "I just am a little…insecure. Without the weave smoothing out my scars, blurring my freckles, and softening me- well, it helped make me someone worth touching."
Her admission hangs in the air for a moment, her chest rigid with tension and swollen with a bubble of anxiety. He must think she's exhausting, asking this of him then getting so worked up over it. Her desire for him outweighing but not fully dealing away with her own insecurities. Truthfully, she'd have been content to strip Gale down,kiss and touch him to her heart's content- while never letting his hands graze her. But, he always has a way of taking the lead when it comes to these things. A fact that can never make its way back to camp.
A soft kiss presses to the side of her lips, where that scar cuts jaggedly through them. Another against her jaw, her forehead, her cheeks as warm welcoming hands cup her face.
"Look at me, my love." He brings her gaze to his. Her heart lurches up into her throat, skin burning beneath the intensity of Gale's expression. "There is no plane or realm or state of being in which you are anything less than a person worth touching. You are my hope and my light- and no matter how or where you are presented to me, you will always be the most beautiful thing I have set my eyes on. The stars, the moon, the sun, the very heavens themselves- you put them all to shame…"
She feels like she's been set ablaze. Her face nearly glowing with its heat, eyes wet, and the chill of the night a distant memory as his words burn through her very being. And he means them, gods help her- he means them. Able to hear and feel the conviction in every syllable, see his earnestness in the lines of his expression, in the spark alight in his eyes. And she will never know what she did to deserve him and she will always fear that she may lose him, but she is so happy to have him,
"Ugh, gods, fuck- Gale," she curses, stuttering on her words because she has nowhere near his grasp on the English language, "I don't really know how the hells I'm supposed to argue with that."
"So don't," he says, the request surprising in its brevity. His lips press to the corner of her eye, Petra realizing a moment too late that tears had started to streak down her face.
He kisses down the path of her tears, her jaw, her neck craning to the side as he buries his face against her throat. Feverish and heavy kisses across her skin, her arms wrap tight around his back- digging her nails into his shoulder blades as he bites tenderly at her skin, laving his tongue across the sting he left behind. She groans as he sucks harshly, nips at her pulse point, and she can't help but squeeze her thighs together- trying to get a bit of relief, everything he does just making her needier.
She curls her hand into his hair, twisting the silver streaked strands around her fingers as Gale kisses along her collarbone. Careful as his teeth graze where the skin stretches thinner over bone, the briefest edge of pain soothed over by the lap of his tongue. She moves the hand not tugging at his hair down his chest, skimming down his stomach, and finally presses her open palm to his groin- feeling his cock hardening in his pants, the heat of him through the fabric. A rough, nearly pained groan echoes against her collarbone. His forehead suddenly pressed to her shoulder, twitching beneath her touch.
“Too much?” She whispers against his ear, worried she may have pushed too far too soon. Far too aware despite her eagerness that neither of them have had physical sex in a year or more- probably more, considering his time with Mystra.
“No such thing with you,” he says through a raspy breath, his lips catching hers again as his hands brush up her sides- warm open palms stroking up the taunt freckled skin of her stomach. Stoking a fire that burns inside of her, heat rising to the very surface of her flesh as grinds her palm against him. Desperate to give him even a hint of the same heat burning in her.
His movements halt as his fingers brush the edge of her cropped nightshirt, kiss breaking as his eyes meet hers, a surprisingly silent request from her wizard. Reluctantly, she pulls her hands from his hair and cock, Gale provides her the space as she sits up to hook her fingers beneath the edges of her shirt and tug it up off over her head. Petra tosses it aside, shaking out her hair and trying not to overthink being naked from the waist up.
Every fiber of her being screams that she should cover her chest, having gained some weight since traveling with Gale- his cooking having put a few pounds on her, but sadly none of those managed to reach her tits. Small and fuller at the bottom than the top, freckled like damn near every other inch of her.
But as always, there is nothing sheer adoration in Gale’s eyes and with a little press of his palm on her sternum her back is hitting the sheets again. The blankets and pillows all the softer on her bare skin, sinking down into the blush of it. Warmth of the sheets and his hand a contrast to the chill of the open air that’s snuck back in, her nipples stiffening as a breeze taunts her.
Her legs spread for him as he moves closer, allowing him to slot himself between her thighs- a gasp on her tongue when his cock brushes against her core. Cloth grinding against her wet clit, feeling the outline of him against her. She groans and tries to wrap her legs around his hips, only for his hand to find her thigh- a steady palm pressing it back against the mattress. And his other hand finds hers, his large warm palm eclipsing hers, fingers intertwining with her own- as he presses another quick kiss to her lips, the next to her collarbones, another to the top of her breasts, then the heat of his mouth is around her nipple.
“Fuck,” she curses, a hiss of breath as pleasure sparks across her skin- Gale sucks harshly at her chest, teasing her nipple with his tongue, just the hint of his teeth on the fullest part of her breast, and the scratch of his beard on her skin.
She whines and whimpers, fingers knotting in his hair- his hands on her hand and thigh keeping her pinned beneath his weight, only able to arch and squirm against his mouth. Her hips try to writhe on instinct, trying to find friction against her core, trying to refind it. But he presses a little harder on her thigh, keeping his full weight off her, too much empty space between them for her to be sated. A frustrated whine in her throat as he pulls off her breast with a soft wet sound, not offering her any relief to her core or even acknowledgement of his torture, only a small hungry groan as he takes her other breast into his mouth.
The air feels even colder on her spit slick chest, nipple swollen and redder, a scratch of flushed beard burn left behind. Sharp contract making her squirm all the more as he makes the other match. Her sounds pathetic and needy, as he teases her sensitive chest. Every swipe of his tongue, brush of his teeth, scratch of his beard, and hungry reverberating groan against her skin sends a pulse of pleasure between her thighs.
“Gale,please,” she keens, not even sure what she’s begging for, more or less- if she’s squirming to press herself tighter to his face or trying to escape the laving of his tongue on her body. But she can only whine when her cry is met with a groan that echoes against her, reverberates in her bones, seeps through her veins, and settles in the wet heat between her thighs.
His lips pull away from her chest, the hand that had been pressed into hers slips away- palm stroking down her forearm, along her collarbones as Gale’s mouth moves lower. Soft kisses beneath the curve of her breast, down the middle of her stomach, his thumb brushing over her nipple- his fingers nearly chasing after his mouth as he moves down her body. Lips kissing over her belly button as he squeezes at her breast, the sink of his hands into the squish of her chest, large warm hand groping and teasing while he works his mouth even lower.
“Gale,” she whines again, as he presses her thigh tighter to the bed, his beard scratching just at the waistband of her pants. His hand skims down from her breast, fingers pressing soft divots into her hip. Then hook into her waist band, her thigh released finally as he mirrors the gesture of his other.His deep brown eyes looking up as her.
“May-”
“Please,” she cuts him off, hissing her consent, the ragged sound of his voice only making her desparate for more of him. He smiles, far too sweet for a man about to strip her naked- another soft kiss beneath her navel and then he’s tugging her clothes down.
She does her best to make it easy for him, lifting her hips as he rolls the fabric down them, moving her legs as needed when he finally yanks the clothes from her body. Her dearest magician having made sure to grab her underwear with them as well. Petra laid completely bare before him, The air just as cold on the slick heat of her cunt as it’s been to her split slick breasts. A chill curling along her spine, reminding her that despite the plush mattress and the soft downy blankets hugging her skin, they’re unmistakably outside. Conjured bed in the midst of the field, twinkling stars and kaleidoscopes of colors still dancing over head- bathing her blush touched skin in their glow.
Petra presses a hand to her mouth, trying halfway to hide her crimson face as her other hand hovers to hide her cunt. She can’t imagine the sight she must make- red faced, tangled hair against the pillow, throat mottled by his teeth, chest marked with saliva, the red scratch of beard burn lingering along her flesh and slick clinging to the meat of her thighs. The mess his mouth has made of her on full display.
His fingers are warm and reverant when they wrap around her wrist, plucking her hand from where it covers her cunt- exposing her even further as he presses a kiss to her palm.
“None of that, my love,” he whispers against her skin. Her nose wrinkles, heat still burning through her face- no words find her, so she pulls her hand from her mouth and sticks her tongue out at him. Feeling his smile against her palm, a soft nip of teeth against her wrist.
His hand falls away from her wrist, Petra scratches her nails through his beard before allowing her own to drop. A gasp catching in her throat when the broad warmth of his palms presses against both of her thighs. Her knees bending as she allows him to spread her further apart, even more exposed- even more on display than she felt before. His deep brown eyes reverent and nearly eclipsed by his pupils as he looks down at her slick cunt- Petra squirms against the sheets and the press of his hands.
“Gods,” he breathes out, her heart stuttering in her chest, “I could study for ages, read every tome and scroll in all of Faerun and still never be able to conjure a more beautiful sight than you.”
“Gale…” She whines, burying her face in her hands- burning beneath his gaze and words, how can he say these things without a singular fucking drop of shame? And how can he mean every single word of it?
“I’m right here, love,” he answers, pressing his face into her inner thigh- soft lips and the scratch of his beard, her breathing hitches as he kisses her flesh. Another moving further inward, along her skin. His tongue licking the slick that clings to her, his teeth nipping bruises into her thigh.
She squirms and writhes, anticipation coiling tight inside of her, only one goal with the direction of his kisses. Every lick and bite jolting phantom pleasure to her cunt, insides clenching and aching for something more direct, to feel that scratch of his beard and the lave of his tongue where she needs it most. No matter how embarassing the idea is. Need outweighing shame.
And as he moves further between her thighs, he lowers himself down, closer and closer- the skin feeling all the more sensitive as he nears her cunt. His hands and arms shifting, pushing beneath her thighs- a warm support of flesh and bone, his palms settling on her hips, before pressing down. His steady hold preventing her squirming, pinning her in place as he sucks a harsh mark into her skin.
“Please, Gale,” she whimpers, twisting both her hands into his hair, trying to squirm her hips to no avail.
“You have not an ounce of patience, do you?” He murmurs against her thigh, blunt edges of his teeth nipping at her flesh.
“Absolutely fucking not, not with you,” she whines, words burbling out, “I need you, please.”
A smile pressed into her skin and she can see it in her mind, even if she can’t through her thigh- she bites her tongue, waiting for his words to spill forth again. Waits for more waiting. Waits for another three part sentence and enough verbiage to put a dictionary to shame, all needed before he may finally put his fucking mouth on her.
The brush of breath on her wet cunt, his head shifting between her thighs- beneath her fingers and the heavy lave of his tongue through her center. Pleasure shockwaves through her, a half stuttered curse on her lips as her hips jolt and her fingers dig into his scalp. His hands press down harsher on her hips, mattress and blankets denting beneath her, keeping her still as the heat of his mouth consumes her every thought and feeling.
A practised tongue works her over, laving through her slit, dipping inside of her and lapping at the slick that rushes out of her. Each swipe of his tongue only drawing more from her, making her cunt clench around his tongue, feeling herself soak the scratch of his beard. A hungry groan against her, reverberating and twisting the coil inside of her tighter, sounding like a man starved- her insides burn, her hips try to writhe, to find even more friction as his tongue traces every inch of her.
Groans and wet noises against her, echoing and hanging in the open air, mingling with the nonsense of whines and pleads that she can’t seem to stop. Body and voice hardly her own as she's taken apart by every hungry lick into her cunt, pleasure burning hotter and coil dragging tighter.
A bump of his nose against her swollen clit and she's thrown over the edge, embarrassingly easy, a thunder of pleasure through her veins- coil snapping and body on fire as it consumes her very being. Only distantly aware that she's thrashing, gasping, and pressing down harsher on Gale's skull as her body jolts. Pleasure ravages her, his tongue and lips toying with her clit all the while, Gale burying his face into her as he pushes her end further and further, harsh sucks on her swollen flesh, pushing her back into ecstasy's grip anytime it threatens to let her go.
Not so much as cumming again, but Gale refusing to let her stop. Drawing her pleasure out, the faintest sign of it waning met with a firm nearly painful swipe of his tongue or suck against her clit, tracing patterns against it that her blanking mind can’t make sense of- only able to call his name and thrash beneath him, as pleasure edges to near pain.
And finally, he pulls away from her, orgasm crashing down and away to faint tremors versus an active quake. Her throat raw and aching from the noises he pulled from her, cunt throbbing and clenching at the sudden relief and gut wrenching absence- both somehow existing at once. Both missing his mouth and happy to be afforded the chance to come down from her high.
Her breaths are ragged and raw, coming back to her body. Shame aching painfully in her chest, needling at her hammering heart. The first physical bodily orgasm wrung from her by another’s hand in two years. Brought to her end by the stray bump against her clit. Her celestial form not only prettier, but able to endure far more- it seems.
And that shame only grows as the world fully returns to her, realizing just how tight her hands are wrenched in his hair- how harshly she’s pressing against his skull. His breath ragged and hot against her wet thigh, slick with sweat and more. And she can hear how out of breath he is, how she nearly stole the very air from his lungs- nearly drowned him in her.
“So-sorry,” she whispers, letting him go and hiding behind her hands, hating how desperate and ragged her voice is, “I uh, shit- didn’t mean to- I could’ve suffocated you, I’m so sorry, fuck-”
For all her begging him to live, to stay- she nearly killed him with her fucking vagina. Because of fucking course that’s something she’d do. A pathetic excuse for a person, a lover, and just an existing thing.
A huff of breath from him, hot on her already burning skin- it’s light and bubbles into a small laugh, another kiss to her thigh. The bed shifts beneath her, his arms and hands pulling away- Petra dares to peek between her fingers. Gale moves over her- his cheeks ruddy with exertion, his hair sweaty and mussed, beard and lips wet with slick. His grin only wider, more boyish when he meets her eyes through the gaps of her fingers- his own wrapping around her wrists.
Delicately, he prises her hands from her face.
“I can think of no better death, than one between your thighs.”
She snorts, a breathless laugh,; “Oh yeah, sure, and I’d be the one stuck explaining your naked corpse to K'ha'ssji'trach'ash.”
“He may appreciate the chuckle, but do remember the ‘chhh’ sound, comes from the back-”
“I know,” she retorts bluntly, her wizard only laughing in response. She can still remember how her nerves rattled the first time she was tasked with saving Gale’s life. Not evening knowing at the time just how much more precious that life would become to her. Terrified of saying a single wrong syllable of the mephit’s name, moving the thread to the wrong side, or hiting a wrong note on that stupid fucking flute.
Keeping him alive will be the death of her, but as he settles slightly next to her- arms curling beneath and around her- her cunt still throbbing with her drawn out orgasm, his body warm, and his open palm cupping her jaw… She can hardly say she’ll mind.
“I must say, I do feel assured knowing you’d bring me back again.”
“Of course, as many times as it takes,” she admits, her next breath swallowed by his lips. His tongue heavy with the taste of her, his kiss and beard wet with her slick, a muffled groan in her throat at the very thought.
She chases to deepen the kiss as much as she can, pressing into his chest- resting her hand over his forearm. Her tongue pushes deeper into his mouth, her insides aching again, even with the throb of near pain between her thighs from her overstimulation. The soft wet sound of their kisses, her own sigh muffled between their mouths as his mouth starts to taste less like her and more like him.
His forearm flexes beneath her fingers, his palm leaving her jaw, the other hand still holding her close and brushing her ribs. Before she can break the kiss or see where his other hand is traversing, she feels his fingers on her lower stomach and skimming down her body.
“Gale,” she whispers against his lips, thighs squeezing together- his fingers already teasing along her mound, scratching through the sparse patch of dark hair above her cunt. He hums against her cheek, pressing a kiss to her jaw- “I can’t… again.”
Her words are stuttered and breathy, not at all convincing- she’s still thrumming after her last orgasm, cunt still aching and sensitive, every cell of her being an exposed livewire he seems intent to keep playing with.
“You can’t… do what exactly?”He asks, voice edged with teasing as he bites at her jawline. Her thighs draw tighter together as his finger start to push between them. Whining as he kisses at her neck and she can already feel that coil starting to twist again.
“Can’t- cum again, too, mm… too soon, let me touch you instead,” she manages through the kisses and bites against her throat. Petra starts to move her hand that’s been placed in the narrow space between their bodies, groping downward- frustrated with the fabric still clinging to his lower half.
“There’s never too soon enough time to touch you,” he whispers against her throat.
“Gale, please,” she gasps, feeling him groan against her as her palm cups him through his pants- hard within his clothes, twitching beneath her touch.
“Spread your legs for me, dear,” he requests and she knows she’ll fall apart so quick, that the pleasure may ache into pain, but she needs him, the promise of his fingers too much. Petra clumsily obeying, spreading her legs; “There we are, so good for me.”
The words go start to her cunt, followed shortly by his fingers- the faintest brush over her swollen clit. She gasps, his name on her lips as she tries not to lose focus on where her own hand is, squeezing at his hard-on, trying to offer him some fraction of the pleasure he’s so persistent on pouring into her. A strained groan against her neck as his fingers start to swirl around her clit, a wet slide and building friction, already painfully close.
“Fuck, Gale,” she hisses, haphazardly trying to yank at the laces of his pants- cursing herself that she can pick the strongest locks in Faerun but can’t yank open her lover’s fucking pants between the odd angle, not being able to properly see what she’s doing, the mouth at her pulse point, and the finger slowly pressing into her.
“You already feel so perfect around me,” he speaks against her neck as a single thick warm finger pushes into her, opening her up, curling into her- her cunt clenching around him, her head thumping back against the pillows as she gasps. Soul sex aside, it’s the thickest thing she’s had in her in years, her own thin nimble fingers not comparing to his broad palms and long thick fingers.
“Please, please, Gale,” she breathes, not sure if she’s asking for more fingers or for help undoing his pants. Maybe both.
She gets a kiss beneath her ear, another finger pushing into her- slow and methodical in his pace. Not seeking to push her into immediate orgasm again, but to stretch her further apart, to see how deep he can fill her with the twist of his fingers. That pleasure building, aching inside of her as his lips kiss up her ear. Small wet presses that sends little chills as he nears the pointed tips of her ears. Feeling herself coating his fingers in wet, slick and accepting as the press of his thick solid fingers.
“You’re so beautiful, you’re taking my fingers so well,” he murmurs before kissing right at the point of her ear, nipping the sensitive skin and she jolts- face hot with pleasure and shame at how easy she is to take apart.
Then he starts to pump his fingers, no longer idly stretching and curling, finding a rhythm as he rocks them in and out of her cunt. A desperate cry on her lips, fingers dragging in and out of her slick heat- toying and curling in to press at her nerves, only to pull back and push back in.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cries, not able to come up with any other word- even when the laces of his pants finally come undone with her frantic tugging. Biting her lip and groaning when she can finally- finally, shove her hand down his pants, beneath his underwear, hard solid cock finally in her grasp as she barely manages to pull it free from his clothes.
“Fuck,”Gale grits out, a rare curse for the wizard- for once all other words but profanity failing him. His fingers in her cunt pause as she wraps her own around him. The hand on her ribs pulls her tighter, as she feels the heat of him against her palm. Can feel the weight of his cock, can trace the veins along his length as she runs her fingers over him- the stick of precum when she touches the head. Gale breathing rough and ragged against her temple.
“Gods, I can’t even get my fingers around you,” she blurts out, taking the rare chance to be the talkative one- surprised by just how thick he is in her hand. She’s no halfling or gnome, but her favorite wizard stands a good foot or more taller than her- size difference palpable in how her fingers struggle to meet around him.
He bites beneath her ear,rocking his fingers back into her- pace harsher and rough as she tries to stroke him. Smearing precum down his cock as best she can, trying to make an easier slide of her hand up and down his cock, feeling it twitch against her fingers. A rough ragged groan against her skin, her insides clenching as his fingers fuck into her- thoughts of how his cock will feel, how much more it’ll split her open, making the drag of his fingers that much slicker.
“So pretty in my arms, love- right where you belong, so sweet and desperate for me,” he rasps against her ear and she squeezes her fingers around him, feeling the stutter and stall in his hand inside of her. The strained growl against her jaw, his expression furrowed and tense- his jaw visibly clenched, eyes clenched shut. Perhaps the first time he’s fully taken his eyes off of her.
He doubles his efforts between her thighs, working his fingers more harshly into her, fucking his fingers roughly into her. Each thrust and drag along her insides making her sees stars and not just the ones he’s conjured for her. Pleasure spiking higher and higher, building her up- her cunt clenching around him. She tries to work her own hand faster too, cursing herself for not having more experience with this sort of anatomy.
And then a thought, a singular thought manages to surge above the fog his fingers have put into her mind. She needs it to be wetter, slicker, his precum helping but not enough for her liking. Her gestures are sloppy and messy, haphazard with need- pulling her hand off of him, he curses faintly, the feeling of his eyes back on her. She leans forward just a little to drool against her hand, gathering as much spit and saliva as she can, strands straining from her lips. Spit dribbling down her chin and she can only hope he’s not disgusted by the sight, but it’s left her hand wet. Another ragged breath, inhale and exhale against her as she wraps her spit slick fingers around him.
His lips surge forward, catching her own in a messy crash, teeth clanging together as he kisses her- his tongue swiping to catch the spit that clings to her her skin, hungrily groaning into her mouth. She tries to keep up, tightens her grip as much as she can without fearing hurting him, her hand sliding up and down much easier with the glide of her drool and his precum. The piss poor excuse for lube allowing her to at the very least move her hand faster, trying to match the pace he’s set with his fingers inside of her. His palm presses down more firmly, the heel of hand finding her clit. A rough tempest of pleasure jolting through her nerves.
And it’s a rough mix of kisses, moving hands. Being fucked apart by his fingers, grinding against her clit, pushing her closer and closer. A echoing squelch as he takes her apart, the wet slide of flesh against flesh as she strokes his cock- the hungry groans and soft sounds of their kisses, everything consuming her every sense. Pushing her closer and closer, coil pulling tighter, tighter. The drag and tease of him inside of her, the grind against her sensitive clit- the promise of what’s come with his cock twitching in her hand, the bite of his teeth against her lower lip.
The world seems to split apart, crack open, and fall away from her- everything crashed into pleasure, thrown over the edge again. Twitching and writhing beneath his hand, hips thrashing and fucking herself through the shocks. The faint curse and snarl against her lips, the twitch in her hands- the heat of seed spilling over her fingers and hip
Then she’s falling, world truly carrening out from beneath her, yelping as her ass thumps painfully into the muck. A sharp jolt of pain through her tailbone, Gale trying to tug her closer, squeezing her tightly as the world physically shifts around them, his face burying into her hair.
“Gods damn it.”
Petra tries to process the sudden mix of just plain fucking pain. The cold cling of mud to her ass, blinking through the blissed out fog in her mind- no longer coated in the green blue glow of a shifting sky. No longer is her ass burried in a soft silken mass of blankets and sheets, now aching in the cold cling of muddy shadow curse dirt. The only light a mounted torch with faint flickering orange flames. There’s no traces of Gale’s illusions, just him and Petra- naked and sweaty in a patch of mud. The wizard holding her tightly, his face hidden in the top of her head- possibly the most bashful she’s ever seen him, even in their awkward little flirting moments, she’s never known him to physically hide his expression from her.
“Gale… honey?” She says, using a rare term of endearment for her- those usually his territory.
“Mmhm,” he hums vaguely against her scalp.
“I have mud on my ass.”
“As do I.”
“Is there a particular reason why?” She tries, trying not to laugh as she tries to understand why he’s suddenly thrown them into the muck- if he wanted to rut in the dirt, she wouldn’t have been opposed to it, but it seems a little sudden and out of character for a man who still tries desperately to smell like lavender and bath oils while traipsing through the wilderness for days on end.
“Ah well,” he murmurs, finally pulling back and allows her to see his face- cheeks ruddy, sweat beading his skin, his eyes looking down at his slick wet fingers, “Some conjuring and illusionary spells require… concentration to be maintained. And while my multitasking abilities are certainly exemplary,that focus can be particularly hard to keep when…”
“When you’re getting jerked off?”
“Not the wording I would have chosen, but- yes,” he admits, still avoiding her eyes.
And she tries- she truly tries, biting her lip and gritting her teeth, because she wants to be mindful of his embarrassment. But her stomach tenses as a rush of laughter burbles out, snorting as giggles turn to cackles, pressing her hands to her mouth- body aching as she cracks up.
She made him cum so hard the fucking spell broke. It’s so ridiculous, it’s so asinine, she can’t help but laugh- the pain in her tailbone now eclipsed by way her belly aches in laughter. And it only dies when she looks back at Gale, his head bowed slightly still- his eyes avoiding her and guilt eats at her heart. A part of her having hoped he’d be laughing along, that he’d see the humor in this.
“Gale..” She whispers his name, her voice a little ragged and rough.
“My apologies, I- this is not how I wanted this night to go for us, for you,” he explains, face far too contrite and shamed for what is just a silly little mishap, “I think, perhaps, another night if I conserve more of my energy during the day than I did today, I should be able to maintain the illusions for longer.”
“Gale…”
“Or perhaps, I can do just a little more research, see if I can find variations that require less concentration or maybe none at all,” he prattles onward, “I swear, my love, I can give you the night you deserve, I just may need more preparation than I expected, but I will make this up to you, I’ll-”
“Gale!” She yells his name more firmly, finally looking at her- his eyes soft and vulnerable and she feels like she’s scolded a puppy but she leans forward to cup his face, “There is nothing for you to make up for.”
“We’re lying in mud, my dear.”
“Yes, we are lying in the mud and my stomach is streaked in cum because I jerked you off so hard you forgot how to be wizard for a minute- I’m not mad, it’s really fucking funny,” she reiterates, nuzzling his nose with hers as she tries to swallow her giggles- desperately trying to get him to just laugh. His lips curl into a shadow of a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach those big brown eyes.
“Perhaps- but I didn’t bring you here to make you laugh, I brought you here to give you a perfect night, to make the joining of our bodies as beautiful as the joining of our souls. And we are lying in mud, you deserve more… I want to give you more.”
“Gale, the night we joined souls you started off by showing me a book of people sixty-nining.”
“A very poignant and beautiful book about newlyweds becoming one in every sense of the word-”
“By putting their mouths on each other’s genitals.”
“That was one aspect of the process, yes- however-”
She silences him with a kiss, soft and chaste- just enough to muffle the words threatening to pour from his lips. Petra pulls just a half breath away, leaning her forehead against Gale’s. Feeling the warmth of him, the cling of the sweat on both of them, smelling the salt of it on him.
“I love you,” she murmurs, whispers it and hopes he can feel the adoration she pours into every syllable, meeting his gaze head on as her voice cracks, “I love you so fucking much and you’re so so much more than I deserve- and if you cannot believe that, trust that I do, that I truly mean it.”
“I do, I truly do, I just, everything you’ve done for me, everything that you are- you deserve the world.”
“And yet the only thing I want from it is you.”
“Petra…”
“So, for a moment, worry less about what you think I deserve and listen to what I want,” she asks, murmuring against his lips, skimming her thumb over his cheekbone, “I don’t need perfection and I don’t need pageantry and I don’t care if it’s messy or funny or weird- I want you, I need you. So please, let me have you. Don’t pull away, don’t scuttle off and worry yourself to pieces because something went wrong. Laugh with me, kiss me, fuck me- gods damn it.”
“Anything for you, dear,” he says and their lips come together again, another reverent press of their mouths- she places her palm against his shoulder, pushing softly.
Quick witted as ever, he gets the idea- laying back for her and shifting off of his side, onto his ass properly as she throws a leg over his hips. His still hard cock bumping against her cunt as she settles on top of him. Breaking their kiss to pepper them across his jaw, nipping at his flesh through his beard, kissing down the marks that curl across his neck. Following them to the middle of his chest, where the orb burned through his flesh- pressing a kiss where the skin is forever bruised blue. The deep rumble of a groan in his throat making heat rush between her thighs.
She sits back a bit, looking down at him- sweat tangled hair, ruddy cheeks, chest laid bare beneath her, and the faint orange glow of the torch light. Her hands run up his chest, thick and broad beneath her- body hair the roughest part of him, scratching beneath her palms.
“Absolutely perfect,” she whispers, raking her nails along the swell of his pecs.
“My thoughts exactly,” he returns, his hands gripping her hips as he smears a thumb through the streaks of cum still on her skin, and she can’t resist rolling her eyes- as if she wasn’t the one to initiate this round of corniness.
Through the flickers of amber light, she notices a flash of deep purple fabric- Gale’s sleep shirt he’d tossed aside earlier. She lifts up a little further on her knees, leaning over him to reach for it, twisting her fingers in the soft fabric.
“Eep!” She yelps at the sudden heat of his tongue and mouth on her chest, a sharp nip to the underside of her breast- “That is not why I was leaning over!”
He smiles and laughs against her chest as she playfully swats at his chest, settling back to her position- his tunic still dangling from her fingers. Gale smiling up at her, too handsome for her to feel any measure of malice.
“You can hardly blame for falling to temptation, especially when it comes to you.”
“You underestimate just how much I’m willing to blame you for anything,” she teases before shifting forward just slightly- “Lift your back up a bit for me?”
“Of course,” he obliges, quickly getting her intent as they softly arrange his sleep shirt on the ground- it’s no four poster bed, but it’ll get his back out of the mud.
“Not much, but-”
“I feel positively pampered.”
“Well, I do live to spoil you,” she teases back, considering for a moment wrangling his pants and underwear down further- his cock still the only thing that’s freed. But, that also means his ass has a modicum of coverage against the mud. Spoiling him again- obviously.
Petra keeps one hand steady on his chest and the other reaches beneath her, feeling again the heat and weight of his cock in her hand. She hums, whines as she steadies her grip around the base of him- a groan deep in his chest, rumbling beneath her as she drags the head of his cock along her cunt. Her body aches with need as she lines him up with her entrance, Gale's hands grip her tighter. His fingers dip into her skin as his breath hitches and his jaw clenches tight.
And she sinks down, her voice straining into a wordless cry as the head of his cock slides into her. Barely even inside of her and already stretching her wide, even having had him in her hand, but she needs to take a moment- not expecting just how much she’d be split open.Not painful, far too slick and ready for it to do anything feel incredible, if just a little new for her.
A strained creak in his tone: “That’s it, no rush- take your time, if it’s too much, you only need to say the word.”
“Gods no, no, it feels good- really fuckin’ good,” she assure him, voice rough and breathy, biting her lip as she starts to slowly lower herself down further, “So, so fucking good, fuck.”
“There you are, taking me so well- perfect around me, like you were made for me,” he praises, voice gritted and his fingers grasping her tighter as her cunt clenches around him, the adoration stirring her insides as his cock buries within them.
Every inch a deeper press, a tighter stretch, never painful but always full- like he could truly split her apar at any moment. But it’s never too much, the drag and sink of him perfect, absolutely perfect. A babble of breathless noise and nonsense on her tongue as she he carves a path into her- her hips finally settling when she’s about to scream out and there’s no more of him to take. Feeling the faint scratch of his body hair where they join, barely tugged down pants rough against her thighs and ass.
The back of his head hits the dirt, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat- his eyes closed as his moves just slightly beneath her. Bracing his feet in the dirt, knees bending slightly as his hips lift up. Bucking inside of her, a sharp lightning strike of pleasure ripping through her- lurching her forward body forward, bracing her hands against his chest as she cries out.
“Fuck!”
“Ah, sorry, are you-”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine, I’m good, gods, I’m good,” she rushes to assure him, digging her nails into his skin, leaning forward to kiss at his jaw, groaning against his skin when it grinds him against her insides.
Tentatively, she starts to rock herself on top of him, cursing as she starts to lift off him just a bit, whining at the drag of him inside of her. His hands allowing her to move, guiding her gently despite the harsh dig of his nails, digging red ragged crescents into her skin- blue bruises forming beneath his harsh touch.
Petra barely pulls up before she lowers herself back down, his name on her lips as she’s filled with him again. Her grip on him only growing more desperate- more bruising, as she starts to find a harsher, quicker pace- bouncing herself on his cock, body thrumming and pleasure twisting tight as she tries to slam down hard enough on him. Tries to hit the right spot inside of her, grind her clit just right against his skin as she tries to set her pace. Her motions frantic and desperate, smearing and streaking slick across his skin and clothes, every desperate slam of her hips making her that much wetter, that much more accommodating, body frantic to welcome him into her over and over again.
“Gods, your cunt doesn’t even want to let go of me, look so pretty with my cock inside of you,” he groans, her inside clenching at his choice of words, Gale’s cheeks flushed beneath the dark hair of his beard- his face screwed tight with his pleasure as his cock twitches inside of her squeezing walls. Petra in a frenzy as she fucks herself stupid, rides him as hard as she can, getting pushed closer and closer to the brink- pathetically close to her end, just a little more, a little more.
His hands move further back, curling around her ass, sinking his fingers into the plush flesh- her whimpering at the grope, the feeling of his warm digging into her- squeezing her so tightly. Harsh and firm, when hips roll into her, thrusting in as she sinks down- striking the very nerves she couldn't quite hit hard enough, a torrent of heat and need, stars dancing before her eyes without any magic. The force of his hips jolts her, her shaky arms giving out, her body collapse flush to his chest, nails digging into him as her face presses into his sweat slick skin. Pliant and boneless as Gale takes over the pace, gripping his ass tight between his hands and steadying her as he fucks her apart.
And it’s pitiful how much better it is with him in control, Gale knowing her body and what she needs or perhaps just that much better at giving it to her. Harsh brutal snaps of his hips, every rut of him into her making her body thrum, her mind blanked with every strike at her deepest parts. Carving her out, splitting her open, burying himself into her over and over again- the wet squelch of him into her. Holding her vise tight to his chest, her sensitive tits scratched by his body hair a his motions rock and shift her against him. One hand leaving her ass to wrap around her middle, holding her tighter, clinging closer- his face buried to her temple as he fucks into her, uses her, splits her insides, and makes her body fit hims so perfectly. Not even able to hear or comprehend the whispers and praise whispered against her sweat tangled hair- gripping him tighter, Gale inside her and yet somehow nowhere near close enough. Not able to cling tight enough, not able to burrow far enough into his skin as she burns beneath the sharp bruising pace he drives into her.
Then it all snaps, world shattering and cracking apart, crying out against his chest- mind empty with nothing but pleasure, clenching tight as he pulses inside of her. Squeezing around him, thrashing within his grasp, toes and fingers clenching- curling against him, around him, into him.
A few more harsh thrusts, rushed and hurried into her, followed by a rush of heat. The spill of cum into her insides, burning hot in her cunt, filling her- flooding her, warm in her fucked raw body. She pants and sighs against his skin, breaths rough as she comes back to earth and with no falling this time. He holds her like a promise, tight and reverent, kissing across her scalp and forehead as he rolls through the last of his ebbs of pleasure. Messy as he fills her with his cum, whining against his flesh, she feels it split out between the space where they connect. Filled to the brink with him, overflowed and spilling over with it, feeling it stick and cling to their thighs, their hips, where they meet. The languid slowly roll of him into her fucking his seed back into her, before his hips finally still as the last drop fills hers her, only to drip out again.
They lay in the flickering torch light, skin wet with sweat and settling into each other’s flesh. His heart thunders and pounds beneath his skin, where her ear is pressed tight to him. Able to hear the desperate race and her own hammers in kind, in pace with each other, some relief that may be as ruined and ragged by her as she is by him. Only the sound of thundering hearts and them catching their breath, the faintest chirp of insects from the shadows.
Slowly, steadily, the moments tick forward but time hardly feels like it’s touching them. Only the calming of their breaths and hearts marking the passage. His hands stroke and rub along her back, tracing her sweaty spine, both reach down to idly rub and stroke her lower back, pressing gentle reverence into her aching muscles. His lips burning adoration where they kiss her scalp, skim the scar of her forehead- she shifts to tuck her chin against his chest, looking up at his soft loving gaze.
His hands push the hair off her forehead, cup her cheeks, thumbs stroking over the freckles that mark her face. A breath of a kiss against her forehead, her eyes closing beneath the touch.
“Absolutely beautiful,” he praises, her eyes opening, her nose wrinkling as she blows a raspberry at him and his stupidly precious compliments- he laughs, “And a complete brat.”
“Hmm, you love it.”
“That I do,” he reponds to her teasing, another kiss and she meets his his lips. Sighing softly, knowing they can’t stay like this forever.
Gently, she sits herself back up,Gale’s hands roaming down her sides- not missing the crease of disappointment in his brow when she’s no longer pressed flushed to his chest. She blinks, swallowing a gasp as she looks down at him. Rough raised scratches now mark his chest, thin red lines where her nails streaked his flesh and just managed to break it. Gently, her nails brush the marks.
“Sorry, I’ll rub some salve and balsam ointment over it for you when we get back,” she promises, guilt creeping in- her nails are polished and due to her left, often have more dirt on them than she’d like- she could cause him an infection, “Maybe I should learn a healing cantrip or two…”
“Thought you believed relying too much on healing magic was a crutch,” he asks, smiling up at her as he chimes the words she’s spoken so many a times when him or Shadowheart try to heal her when she only needs a bandage or a few dozen stitches.
“I mean, for me, yes,” she murmurs, knowing it’s hypocritical- but it’s different when it’s him- he smiles, placing his hands over hers. She pulls her palms from his marked skin, bringing them to the press of his lips.
“Worry not, dear- I hardly mind being marked by you,” he promises her, smiling against her knuckles and her nose wrinkles, his sweet words stirring her heart and only one response falls to her lips.
“Blegh,” she spats, mock gagging at his corny existence, even if her cheeks are flushed and her heart thumping- he drops her hands, reaching out quick and giving a small sharp swat of his hand to her ass- “Ah, hey!”
“Do not make gagging noises whilst I am inside of you,” he hisses, voice raised and incredulous- with just the softest edge of a laugh, his lips pulling back to a smile as she giggles.
“Fine,” she reponds, rolling laguidly off of him- letting his cock slip out of her and plopping into the mud beside of him, giving a pointed look- “Blech!”
“Darling-”
“What I’ll no longer gag while you’re inside of me,” she promises, teasing him and his choice of words. His brown eyes rolls, a tut on his lips as he looks at her, before a different glint places.
“Well, there can certainly be exceptions to the rule, should you wish,” he teases and after a beat, his meaning catches her- a way he’d be tucked inside of her that he’d accept her gagging, the idea of tasting him, and feeling him in her throat…
“Is that something you’d wish?” She asks back, smiling a little- grin only widing when he clears his throat.
“Another time, right now…” His voice trails and she watches him shift slight, a a little strained groan of pain his throat.
“Your back killing you?”
“Terribly so,” he admits, shaking his head and starting to sit up with a small grunt- his old achey muscles and joints always giving him issues. But it doesn’t stop him from pulling her over, tucking her into his lap as he sits; “Here, lets get you out out of the mud, dear.”
She giggles, nuzzling into his neck as he make her plop her cum and dirt streaked ass in his lap. And as the afterglow fades and reality settles in her bones, she starts to realize some increasingly pressing concerns. The two are streaked in sweat, mud, and fluids. Her fingers brushing flecks of dirt off Gale’s shoulders, where his skin still met the dirt. His hair messy and tangled with little clumps of dirt, his skin warm and smelling of sweat and musk, Petra unable to help inhaling against his chest.
Beneath them, his shirt is caked in mud, grinding into the dirt under their bodies. His only kind of on pants streaked with cum, clearly stained, dirt on back of it. Her own clothes are tossed in the dirt as well, having hit the dirt through the illusion. Mud on her back and some clinging to her ass, streaked where his fingers groped her- a mess of cum between her thighs.
And they do have to go back to camp.
“Uhm, do you have a spell to clean us and our clothes?” She asks, traces her nails over his neck.
“Yes and no,” he explains, expression slightly tense, one hand on her hip, the other gesticulating with a pointed finger, “Prestidigitation can quite easily clean our clothes, with a bit of folding for mine perhaps, and is cantrip as well- fairly simple, only lasts an hour I”m afraid, but that would certainly be long enough to get back and safely tuck ourselves away in our tent.”
“Mmhm..”
“However, it is specific to objects and those of a certain footage, which- you and I do not qualify as. And between our fights of the day and my illusionary work, it’ll take a good nights rest before I can cast much more than a cantrip, so…”
“So, our clothes will be clean, but we’ll be traipsing back with dirt on our skin and reeking of sex,” she double checks because there’s no river near the clearing- the camp using warmed basins of conjured magic for a while now. Which are back at camp. Where their companions are.
“Or we could stay here for a night…”
“And keep tally of the number of shadow cursed insects that inevitably crawl up our assholes.”
“There are the bugs…”
“I think we may have to face the music on this one,” she says, knowing sculking and sneaking back to camp is not a choice- not with Gale’s knees.
“Alas, reality returns far too soon,” he muses, looking down at her where she’s still balanced within his arms and her cheek to his chest, “Still the night you wanted?”
She giggles- they’re caked in mud, sweat, and cum. Sitting in the muck of a cursed lands, the threat of returning to camp to prying eyes and questioning voices. The only reason they can even safely sit here with monsters prying flesh from their limbs and darkness creeping into their souls is the blessing of a captured pixie. Demands of goddesses and moonstruck kingdoms ran by cults all on the horizon. But his arms are wrapped flush around her, the smell of his skin in her nose, the ache of where he was inside her. Skin marked in his love.
“It’s perfect.”
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#gale/tav#gale/fem!tav#bg3 fanfic#this is also going up on my ao3 and i'll reblog with the link if anyone prefers that method#but i finally had something I could throw on this blog again
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Hi I don't know if you do advice posts but I'm really hitting it off with this guy who has sorta run in adjacent social circles but who i didn't really get to know personally until the past month or so. He recently disclosed to me that he's trans and while it isn't a deal breaker by any means the truth is I've never dated nor slept with a trans guy and I'm not sure whether I should mention that to him if we decide to pursue something so that he knows not to expect too much in terms of skill or not to so that he doesn't get the wrong impression and think I'm using him for an experiment. I'm either a gnc cis woman or some flavor of nonbinary but I'm not sure yet and I'm attracted to men
so imo, the best course of action would be to not disclose. i think you'll both feel more comfortable if you just let the relationship progress organically. if he asks and you're comfortable sharing, i think you can definitely tell him and also include that you don't want him to feel like an experiment. that should open the door for some good conversations about boundaries, likes and dislikes, what terminology he prefers, if he has had a form of bottom surgery, etc. basically, just let him take the lead on that. those conversations can start to feel a little clinical, so feel free to make them spicy. it's more fun that way.
this isn't necessarily what you asked about, but my adhd brain is taking me there, so here's my nsfw advice for folks who want to have sex with a trans person for the first time and are nervous about what to do. ymmv, and of course other trans folks are welcome to contribute. this can also apply to a lot of intersex folks as well, but i'm not gonna speak on that part since i'm not intersex, so intersex folks definitely feel welcome to add to this as well.
he's pre or no op and you're not sure what to call his junk and you don't want to just come out and ask? get a sexy conversation going and ask what he wants you to do to him. he'll describe his body with the terminology he prefers, and you can pick it up from there.
not sure if she's comfortable with you going near her genitals? "tell me where you want me to touch you" "where do you want me to put my mouth?" this is another great way to find out what someone calls parts of their body.
nervous about how to interact with his bottom growth? "i want to watch you touch yourself." "show me how you want me to touch you." watch what he does and copy that when you take over.
not sure if they're a top or a bottom or a side? start with what you prefer (or if you have boundaries about what roles you're not comfortable taking on), and let them respond to that. you don't like bottoming? good, she hates topping! you don't really like penetrative sex on either side? great, they can do oral for hours! haven't topped before but you're willing to try? perfect, he's a power bottom! and if you find your preferences aren't compatible, you can either see if there's other things they're willing to try, or go your separate ways amicably. this sometimes happens with queer sex and it's no one's fault!
he's had phallo and you're not sure how it works? treat it like you would any other dick! if there are things you need to or that he wants you do to differently, he'll tell you. same with meta, it's just a dick that's on the smaller end of average. refer back to "show me how you want me to touch you" if you're still nervous about it.
think they might be getting dysphoric? focus on parts of their body you know they like or that give them good gender feelings. run your hands over his biceps and talk about how sexy his muscles are. run your fingers through her hair and talk about how soft it is. if they seem to be spiraling, turn the attention to you to get them out of their head.
have to stop having sex because the dysphoria got too bad? keep it casual. if they want to talk about it, let them. if they want to let it go, find another activity you can do that feels intimate without the sexual contact. when they seem better, tell them "i'm really glad you were able to tell me earlier that you were feeling uncomfortable. it means a lot that you trust me enough to tell me that." if they seem open to it, have a conversation about what you can do if that happens in the future.
not as sexy, but still very important: if you have a uterus and can get pregnant and your partner has a penis that produces sperm, or vice versa, use a reliable form of birth control! it can suck to talk about that stuff, but it's incredibly important. additionally, use protection against sexually transmitted diseases and infections! get tested regularly, be open and honest with your partner(s), and always pee after sex.
have fun! have weird sex! have vanilla sex! try out some new kinks! celebrate the endless possibilities!
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Hi, Alice. I know this isn't really your usual sort of ask, but seeing you talk so lovingly to people just beginning to work out their gender feelings has made me feel sort of melancholy because I feel like I'm on the opposite side. I've been out for almost a decade, I'm coming up on seven years on T and I just kind of feel like I've lost the joy in being trans. I'm dealing with some health stuff, probably related to my hormone levels but as yet undetermined, which has basically eradicated my ability to have any sort of sex life (this is on top of other, much more long-term chronic illness). I might have to start taking estrogen as well which is terrifying the absolute shit out of me even though I know intellectually that taking a very low dose won't have any of the effects I'm afraid of.
I feel like a walking embodiment of the shit TERFs say about how taking hormones will ruin your life and fuck up your genitals. I'm utterly broken down by the relentless transphobia of this shitty fucking island. Sometimes I scare myself into thinking that I want to detransition, even though I know I wouldn't be happier as a woman, but god damn, when I think about that hot little 18 year old lipstick lesbian I was a decade ago it makes me want to cry. I don't know how to feel good about my body anymore. The days of feeling excited about playing with my gender expression feel like they happened a thousand years ago on Mars. The semblance of 'community' I had before COVID sort of disintegrated and I'm still mostly too riven with COVID anxiety to get it back. I'm very sorry for dropping this enormous shedload of feelings on you but I guess I just don't know how to take joy in being trans anymore.
I've been there - sometimes I am there. As a community, we're pretty good at getting people through the early years of transition, but after that you're supposed to just be good, which might be fine except that all the other parts of life keep going. Not only does transition not solve all your problems, but you keep getting new problems and they're all weird - my top left rib pops in and out of place a bit when I sit down now, it's great. We don't have a good set of ways for talking or thinking about aging, including for cis people. And on top of everything else, the world is getting harder and hotter and more bigoted and we survived a fucking pandemic. But: we survived a fucking pandemic. And we survived all the other things. We're tough, tougher than anyone gives us credit for, including us. Under the circumstances, we're doing pretty good. So that's the first thing: what you're feeling is normal.
Second part: is that feeling helpful or realistic? I don't think that it is. You can't know that you'll always be unhappy with your body, or that you'll never rebuild community. I don't believe that people can be ruined. Okay, you can't go back to being 18, and that's painful, but neither can cis people and they get upset about it too. And 18 year olds are really annoying, imagine being one.
All in all what I'm getting at is that stuff happens to us, like it does to everyone. We took an uncommon step to enforce the correct version of ourselves on the stuff, that's all. And you don't always have to be happy or picture-perfect about it, you don't always have to love it. But if that version of you is the right one, I suggest there is something there beyond joy. The joy can be beautiful, but time has given me the chance to understand my transness as a solemn, clear declaration of myself.
And that joy can and most likely will come back. Even if you have to find new things or think in new ways, inshallah we will all get our joyful moments. Despite everything.
be courageous when the mind deceives you be courageous
in the final account only this is important
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I'm the anon who asked all the curious questions about sexuality and gender!
First off, just to answer your question about what it might mean to be "a guy in a girl way" - So this can obviously mean a lot of things for a lot of different people, and if I were to get into the nitty gritty we could be here all day :P
But actually I was trying to express my situation in "cishet" language. So I'm agender. I'm afab. I use he/him and I am most comfortable with being thought of and referred to as if I was a guy.
But for all intents and purposes people are going to assume that I'm a woman if they don't know otherwise. I'm androgynous sure, but I'm petite to a fault, and never transitioned physically in any way, so to most people who meet me casually, they will assume that I'm a slightly androgynous and gnc woman.
I am polyamorous, and one of my partners is a mostly cishet dude. I know that he most likely wouldn't be (sexually) into me if I was a cis guy. But then again, I am not a cis guy. And I don't question his love or attraction, or respect for my gender. But I do insist that him being with me makes him at least "a little bit bisexual".
It's obviously very complicated, and like. I really respect that you sat down and learned about the community and the terminology etc despite how it might not be a huge part of your life. That's very valuable, and in and of itself, it's a very refreshing and healing thing.
I think the value of allyship is too often understated. Up to and including by the notion that if you are a true ally, you must be some kind of queer in denial.
That said, I do think that to be a true ally (and I think you are in this process!) it's necessary to acknowledge (as you do) that the categories and labels are all just approximations. This includes "cis het". It's ok to have these moments of confusion and just take them for what they are, because at the end of the day human experience is messy and complicated. It doesn't have to threaten your identity as such, because the identity is just the label you currently feel comfy with.
So for example if we met and you didn't know me well (as a co-worker or whatever), you might find me attractive thinking I was a cute lady. If you then asked me out and I knew you were cishet I would probably gently explain that I'm not your type/it wouldn't work for me.
If you met me knowing beforehand that I'm a dude who looks a bit weird, you might not feel the same attraction because your brain has put me in the box of "dudes".
But then if you got to know me and we became close or something, you might start to feel attraction based on liking me as a person and me looking the way I do. And then you might feel bad for it, because you would feel that this attraction means you don't respect my gender or something.
Obviously we are likely not going to meet so that's a completely hypothetical example, but in the latter scenario I would actually take your attention way more seriously. And I think so should you (if a similar situation ever arose).
Because attraction based on knowing a person intimately transcends gender and at that point I wouldn't care so much that you wouldn't be physically attracted if I was a cis guy. I'd be like, well he knows me and I know him, we like each other, and if we get to add freaky sex to the mixture it's a win-win.
Because misgendering is more about dehumanizing. The need to reduce me to my physical body. Somehow?
Anyways I'm literally rambling and I'm being embarrassing all over your inbox, sorry ^^""
Anyways uhhh. Keep swimming, little shark. I will shut up, sorry
Honestly these discussions just make me want to abolish gender. Everyone should just be attracted to whoever and have consensual relations with whoever :3
In the meantime I’ll keep trying to be as good an ally as I can be
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Women-on-women violence, while rare, still happens. And what I find most infuriating about TERFs, is that all their talking points melt like a wet paper bag the second you bring this up.
"Men will dress up like women, enter lesbian bars, and guilt trip people into sleeping with them" (citation needed)
And your solution is MORE fear and suspicion in these places? We could just have a global emphasis on consent culture in gay bars, and have the bouncer throw anyone out if they start aggressively pressuring people for sex. You know... because it's still a problem when cis lesbians do that!
"You can't house trans women in women's prisons! What if they rape people?!"
Weird how you're not worried what will happen to trans women if they're housed in men's prisons. For that matter, weird that you don't seem to care what happens to cis men in men's prisons. Also sexual violence between inmates still happens regularly among cis women. Also a lot of women's prisons still have MALE GUARDS, so the whole thing feels like a moot point.
"You want to allow trans women into domestic violence shelters?! Don't you care how many women already have traumatic experiences linked to seeing a penis?!"
You're right; it feels like gaslighting to ask recovering victims to just suck it up and stay in the proximity of something triggering to them. Oh before I go, one more thing: what about survivors who have been abused by women? You're telling me being surrounded by women can't be triggering to them? What if one of the other women at the shelter looks EXACTLY like the survivor's abusive ex? What is your solution to that, o defender of women's dignity?!
This is what I mean when I say terfs are inherently lesbophobic; in TERF world, all lesbians (as long as they have a pussy) are well-adjusted, sweet-smelling, woman-respecters, and women never treat other women badly! The TERF paradigm is by-design completely ill-equipped to create a support system for lesbians dealing with IPV, and yet they act like sweeping the problem under the rug because it's rhetorically inconvenient is the same as protecting lesbian safe spaces.
The fear that a romantic prospect will turn disrespectful/violent the second they get you alone, is a serious problem. I might not have an answer, but I know segregating by gender isn't it!
The fact that our attempts to remove dangerous people from society have resulted in empowering an even larger institution of predators and exploitation, is a serious problem. I might not have an answer, but I know segregating by gender isn't it!
The question of how we can provide DV survivors with a safety net and a community, when understandably their trauma has left their trust in other people fragile, is a serious problem. I might not have an answer (although... UBI would be a start), but I know segregating by gender isn't it!
#lgbt#lesbian erasure#bi erasure#sapphic#lesbians#feminism#like seriously did you just not watch orange is the new black
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When I started therapy, I was actually hung up on the fact that I didn't seem to have ever experienced dysphoria, which is a lie that has its origins in part in the fact I had no fucking clue what dysphoria actually is. I've since found that it's actually kinda hard to explain, and that's why these narratives that dysphoria is when trans people are revulsed by their body and agab, or when they "hate" their past self, persist. It's also why these "trapped in" bodies and "wrong" bodies narratives exist.
Like. I'm in my body. My body is my body. My consciousness isn't in another person's body; it's in my own. And I know myself. I know myself well enough to know that I am not a woman despite society telling me that my bits, pieces, and parts "make" me one. And how else do I explain this to someone with no frame of reference for this? I liken it to "Freaky Friday," despite the fact that's- technically- what it isn't? It’s like having an out-of-body experience. You're looking at your body. You know it's your body. But there's also a disconnect. Something's missing, and something's there that makes no sense.
I also don't think I could ever hate the girl my parents tried to raise or the woman I wanted so desperately to be. That wouldn't be very kind to me. She really tried her damnedest. And she's not "dead" because she's a vital part of my past. I, quite technically, wouldn't be trans if "she" never existed. I'd be a cis man if I was never afab. "Trans" is an important part of my lived reality.
Was I ever a "girl"? A part of me still has no idea. I know I truly believed I was, but the reasons I believed I was weren't healthy.
I held on to a lot of sex-essentialist ideas for a good portion of my youth. Why? It was all that connected me to the identity society and my family was trying to raise me into. When my cousin gifted me a uterus pin with the words "Women's rights" on it, I wore it proudly. It was a very tenuous connection to womanhood, and it was a connection I needed to critically rethink when my mother and grandmother were both diagnosed with cervical cancer (I was 11). I knew that it ran in my family and that, one day, I might need to go through the same surgery they did just to live.
I asked my mom what connected her to womanhood, and she replied: motherhood. I was never, ever going to be a mother, so I returned to the drawing board. I asked my grandmother what connected her to womanhood, and she replied: standing up to violent men and men who denied her and other women the opportunity to work; community. And I realized that I had never been extended the same community my grandmother always had been. Part of the disconnect I felt was due to violence (sexual and not) I had experienced in single-sex, "women's only" spaces. Girls in "girl's only" spaces made it clear that I was not welcome, and, at the time, I didn't understand why they singled me out and picked on me.
Even though my family was trying to raise me as a girl, the society around me saw me as nothing more than a "failed" girl. I was an "unwoman," not "woman enough," for reasons such as what I preferred to wear. But it's not like in marking me as "unwoman," they made me into a man, far from it. They sorted me- on the basis of my queerness- into some other third category. Something of a eunuch.
And it seemed like the only thing I had was some sex-essentialist, cisgender pretense (I absolutely loved the linked blog post as I found it quite striking, even though I was *never* trans-exclusionary, and I never supported those ideas about trans people) to sort of reassure myself that I belonged in society. Every time I usurped or rebelled against our sex/gender norms, I would work to distract myself from how I constructed my body into a binary and thus ignore how being made into a girl was wrong for me. I literally disconnected myself from parts of my internal self & internal thoughts, and I denied myself the opportunity to construct an identity. I was constantly gaslighting myself and consistently engaged in thought-stopping. In part because I was terrified of being "different."
I so desperately wanted to be just like every other girl that I ignored the fact that I likely never was (and that there is no such thing as universal woman/girlhood). With that realization, I could hear the words of my school-yard bullies from years ago, words which, it seems, many trans masc people have heard in their lifetime, "What's wrong? We're all girls here, aren't we? We're all alike."
I've been unable to recognize my own dysphoria because I have spent my whole life purposefully ignoring and distracting myself from those moments of "huh. something's off." I spent some 23 years of my life essentially disassociating from myself (I'm 26 now). I felt detached from my body and detached from the world around me. It felt as if everyone else was moving, but I was floating in place. I disconnected myself from my thoughts and emotions in an attempt to be accepted by a society that finds queerness disgusting.
I literally felt like I was watching my life and body unfold without my consent rather than me unfolding it myself. So, I liken my experience to "Freaky Friday" because that's also what it is.
#TW: depersonalisation#TW: assault#TW: dissociation#TW: transphobia#this is what therapy is for#It’s been healing to start to recognize what moments are dysphoria#Which might seem counterintuitive#Like. Why would I want to learn to recognize the moments of distress that come from an incongruence between my identity & body?#It’s so that I can better address them#And learn better coping mechanisms to deal with my mental distress#Help lessen some of my internal self-perception issues (very hard on myself mentally & not physically)#Helps me identify mental self-harm#Mental self-harm is not a way to process my distress. It only stresses me further 😅#Gender journey
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Some thoughts about romancing Karlach and what it means to me personally, because I need to get it out of my brain. Under read more for spoilers because some of my friends haven't gotten to play yet.
A little background about me - I have been in a long distance relationship for almost 7 years now, and there's no end in sight, really. Many of my friends are online and I've never had the chance to be even in the same country as them, let alone the same room.
So when you give me a woman who hasn't been able to be close with anyone for 10 years, friend or lover, you bet your ass I went "Oh. Oh no." I haven't been able to hold my wife since September of 2019. Yes, I get to talk to her on the phone every day, play games, do things, but the yearning to be close to her? The anger, the frustration, dismay and dejection that comes with an infernal engine burning up inside? It feels the same, to me.
Well, almost. If I, like Karlach, would be stuck with my wife right next to me and I still wouldn't be allowed to even hold her hand? That's worse. Then again, that's sort of how being in the closet is like -- having to pretend we're galpals and this is all very cis and hetero, while inside I have the rage of a thousand suns because, goddamn, that is my wife and I am her husband and all we want is to live in peace and be happy...
So there are certainly thematic parallels between long distance relationships and Karlach's romance, but there are two details that punched me in the throat personally. 1st, before the first time Tav and Karlach have sex, Karlach is still very worried that she might hurt Tav, which made me remember the first night me and my wife had way back when.
And then, the morning after, you have the option to call Karlach a bird because she's humming. Reader, my wife's nickname is Songbird.
It's a coincidence, of course, but at that moment, I felt as if this was written for me. Out of all people in the world, me.
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I watched a TERF interview
I didn't want to, but I felt I had to. The video is
youtube
I left a comment on the video. It turned out about 3k words. Here it is
I'm going to write comments as I listen, so apologies in advance for poor formatting or any other issues.
@2:35 Helen Joyce - whose background is in mathematics, and not the study of gender expression - went to speak to an expert on queer and trans experience, and threw away what was written and wrote it herself because she disagreed with it. How interesting that she imposed her own viewpoint on her readers bereft of expert opinion. Gender presentation doesn't have anything to do with sex and reproduction. That's the whole point about having a different word to describe it. @3:00 "I see continua everywhere I look ... all these things is a smooth continuum - the one thing that isn't is sex". I find it very strange for a scientist - a biologist no less - to say that sex is binary given the vast number of ways that biological organisms reproduce. Perhaps this exception only exists in your mind, and not reality, perhaps?
This statement is also provably false, because of the existence of intersex people - never mind the other organisms who have stranger lifecycles.
@3:35 "Language is used as something to express your thoughts clearly" Language is malleable and ever changing - and words for people who refuse to conform to this invisible binary have existed for centuries in cultures all across the world. If you want to be clearly understood, be careful how terms are used. So far, the terms "male", "man", "woman" and "female" have yet to be defined clearly. I hope they are, because I fail to see the rationality of the statements made so far with the definitons as I understand them.
@6:00 "My hands are female" What an odd turn of phrase. I would have used the word "feminine". Anyway, this sort of phraseology is a bit disingenuous. It makes it sound like there is no overlap whatsoever between the bodies of a male and female. If I said "anyone under 1.6 metres tall is female, because the average height of a male is 1.7 metres", people would - quite rightly - look at me like a complete imbecile. Helen gets to say essentially the same thing in a slightly oblique way and ... gets away with it?
@7:00 I would agree that some people do take things to the extreme and say things like "heteronormative is a bad thing". This does not make it less bad to have heteronormativity the assumed default, or to view "nontraditional" family units as inherently less valuable - or in some cases as actively bad. Assuming things like that does make someone a prejudiced bigot, whose views are unsupported by evidence.
@9:00 I see a strange dissonance between complaining about sex and gender stereotypes while also mocking the queer groups who go against these stereotypes. To then immediately follow this with the incoherent sentence "it's worse than ... if he doesn't like rugby he's a poofter and let's bully him, it's now saying he's actually a girl." I don't think anyone is saying you should treat a child who doesn't like rugby as a girl. This is a very strange assertion to make. Are there any examples of a child being treated as a girl because they didn't like rugby? What on earth is the point being made here? You seem to be the ones trying to enforce the "pink box blue box" binary, and I am glad you see the harm in this - hardly an argument against allowing a wider variety of gender expression.
@9:44 If people learn gender identity/expression from the stereotypes, then what is your explanation for the existence of gender nonconforming (nonbinary) folk - both trans and cis? Helen then goes on to assert that sissy boys are being encouraged to identify as girls? Where is the evidence for this?
@10:15 I do wonder whether people might be even happier if they got to explore different gender expressions and roles. It would likely affirm a great many peoples' feelings that they are secure in their own gender, as well as experience what life is like for others.
@11:00 I absolutely agree that there should not be pressure to be one thing or another.
@12:19 "your sex is the best guess that a doctor had when you were born" This is factually accurate, and mistakes are made. There are many documented cases where intersex people were operated upon as a baby when a determination fell between the "accepted range" for some physical characteristic. It's not as though doctors do genetic, endocrine and hormone testing on every baby and put that into a spreadsheet which then spits out "male" or "female" - mainly because even that would be unreliable.
@12:37 "a tiny number of people". I suppose if you think a "tiny number of people" is bigger than 160 million, and that's using the very lower end of the prevalence of intersex characteristics of 0.02% of 8 billion people. There could be many hundreds of thousands in the UK alone, and we will never know unless we perform invasive genome, hormone and other tests in order to find out.
@13:00 Echo chambers are not good, on that we agree. I would urge anyone to actually speak to trans folk and get to know them, rather than dismiss their lived experience out of hand.
@15:36 From a 2021 published study across some 30 OECD countries that legalised gam marriage, the suicide rate dropped between 10 and 20%. Other studies indicate that the rate of suicide for LGBT kids can be as high as eight times higher if the child is someone "who experience high levels of rejection from their families during adolescence".
@16:05 This is disingenuous - in all likelihood a lie. Yes, being on cross-sex hormones can produce sterility. No responsible doctor has ever given cross-sex hormones to a child. Puberty blockers, on the other hand, do exactly what they say and delay the onset of puberty. This allows time for everyone involved in the process to come to a decision. Often, the option is there to have sperm or eggs stored before any potentially irreversible effects happen. NOBODY is sterilising children. If anyone has evidence of this, absolutely those doctors should be reported. I have seen no evidence of this.
I'm a little surprised that so many people are shocked and appalled by the idea of sterility. Infertility affects up to 7% of men, and many millions of women. Many men and women choose sterility. Fertility is hardly a good measure of whether someone's life is worthwhile or not.
@16:35 I am very glad that there has not been an increase in children committing suicide. People commit suicide when they are out of options and that's the last positive action they can take to end suffering. People commit suicide because they don't get the support they desperately need. So perhaps you are right, and it is a "playground fad" to act trans, or pretend to be trans, or explore different gender roles - who eventually grow up to be either secure in their assigned gender, or who transition in a loving, supporting home. I rather suspect that this will be the case when the scientific studies come in.
@17:06 "I think much more probable" - well, at least you are honest that there is no evidence supporting your assertions either.
@17:39 "no evidence that not transitioning the child would decrease that risk". Well good luck getting ethical approval for denying treatment for gender dysphoria for a control group for that scientific study! What an asinine statement being played up as a reasonable argument.
@17:54 Indeed, it is very brave to hold these viewpoints. I am reminded of Posie Parker going to New Zealand to hold an anti-trans rally, and actual Nazi's showed up to support the rally - fascist salutes and everything!
@18:44 "I was so far in I couldn't get back". Disturbing echoes of - an echo chamber? It's almost as though surrounding yourself with people who agree with you only alienates yourself from the general public further.
@2104 Again, I am baffled by arguments set forth here. All homosexual couples are infertile, but somehow this does not cause any difficulty for Helen. I also don't see the relevance of who someone is attracted to being relevant to anything, but in this I admit I probably just don't understand what's trying to be said.
@22:36 I would love to see links to these studies and any critiques. I could not find them when I went looking.
@23:32 I think many trans folk, especially in the UK, will not recognise the process from this description. There are people who wait years just for a first appointment. The waiting list. As of 2023-12-01 there is a 60 MONTH waiting list for a first appointment at the London Gender Identity Clinic. https://www.genderkit.org.uk/resources/wait-times/
@24:25 I thank Dr. Dawkins for his common decency. I have a couple of questions. 1) Could you please define what you mean by "woman", and 2) in what way would you not accept someone saying "I am a woman"? Are you so very confident that every cis woman you meet will meet the standards of your definition of "woman", and would you ask them to prove their sex to you? I am minded of a US government official having a cis girl tormented because they thought "she looked trans".
@26:22 I would also like to thank Dr. Dawkins for highlighting a very important point that often gets lost in these discussions is the sincerity. Too many gender-critical groups will make the same, tired, nonsensical posit of "what if I identify as an attack helicopter". These people are being insincere, and if not, are obviously mentally disturbed because attack helicopters are made of metal and not flesh. Sincerity matters very much, and it gets ignored by a lot of the "what if" arguments.
@26:38 "I don't think that being a woman or a man is the sort of thing you pay a price to be". Well, hooray for free healthcare! I would like to point out that to many gender critical people, being able to have children is one of the defining traits of the sexes - does Helen feel that women who pay for fertility treatments to be "not real women or mothers"? Are a couple who pay to adopt a child "not real parents"? I find this argument offensive. As a logical parallel, perhaps I could say that people who have to pay to see don't deserve the same treatment as those who were born with perfect eyesight. But that would be a crass, cruel stance to take - wouldn't it, Helen?
@27:46 What goes on in "women only spaces" that a person's genitals become relevant? I've had GPs and doctors of both sexes, and I've never seen their genitals. It's not relevant to the care they have given me. I do of course have sympathy for people who have been raped and do not want to be in the presence of someone who reminds them of the terrible actions of the past, in the same way that I don't expect someone who was mauled by a dog to put up with an over-friendly dog when they visit a friends' house - if they make the request, obviously it is common decency to make accommodations - but that is hardly the default.
@28:00 I have mentioned sincerity before, and it is relevant here too, but it doesn't need repeating. Sport. Ah, yes, where everyone should be exactly the same in order to compete. I do not know the best way to divide sport up, but we never divide things into just male and female. There are age groups, weight classes, divisions, handicaps - a thousand different ways that allow people to compete with others of a similar level. Biological sex, to me, is one of the dumbest ways to split groups up by ability and I'm sure the feminists would agree.
@29:31 This is an interesting point, but not in the way I think Helen meant it.
@30:30 I feel unutterably sad when a woman says that women wouldn't win anything in an open event. Jasmine Paris won (at least one) in elite open competition. A friend I worked with won outright a long distance running event. I am certain Simone Biles would have wiped the floor against any man. I am certain that women, given the same desire, advantages and encouragement as men, would close the gap with men significantly. I would be horrified if someone suggested that Kenyan men should be excluded from the marathon because "otherwise, non-Kenyan's would never win any marathons."
@30:50 I see Helen addresses the gymnastics issue - to an extent.
@32:28 Here is where we see ample evidence against the prohibitions Helen seems to be seeking from America.
I would ask all the parents out there: would you feel safe sending your child - who is of a sex different to yours - alone into a public toilet? Which would you rather do instead: take the child into the other toilet, or go themselves into the other toilet? The answer is easy at the moment if you are a father with a baby, since the women's toilet is more likely to have a baby changing station - but for older children? What would you do?
I am reminded of James O'Brien's point of "who checks"? If you elimiate someone from a space becasue of what their genitals are - who checks? Or will you legally require all trans folk to wear a pink triangle? Will you require people to out themselves as trans whenever they use a toilet away from home? Would you subject a whole group of people to the same "urinary leash" that women suffered under in the past? Will you make it an offence to be in certain public areas simply because of who they are, and not becaseu of what they do? These are dystopian questions to be asked. I know they are not the same, but there are echoes of apartheid, segregation - things that I would like to think are in the past and should stay there.
Many of the points made for women having separate facilities that Helen raised are applicable to all women.
Further, there are women who have been assaulted by women. Do we make separate accommodations for them? Or would you recommend they use the men's facilities?
I have all the sympathy in the world for rape victims who have traumatic flashbacks, and who feel unsafe. I wonder if Helen is aware of the number of trans people who don't go swimming because of fear? Fear of ridicule, fear of assault? Trans folk who have been assaulted? All assaults are terrible things, and we should do what we can to prevent them - but removing personal liberties from an entire group, the vast, vast majority of whom are blameless? This does not sit well with me, though how to go about dealing with the problem in a better way is a tricky question I do not have the answer to.
I've made all the points I want to about sport, but with Lia Thomas - what exactly is the argument here? Did the other swimmers feel unsafe?
@37:55 I suspect there are many trans folk - and all the other queer folk - out there who would object to the statement that the bullying all goes one way. It very much does not all go one way, and it is the focussing on trans people by mostly right wing reactionaries and media which has caused a great proportion of the ruckus. People who live and work with trans folk have a generally normal reaction to the fact they are trans - it's the people to whom a trans person is an abstract that manage to "other" them so much as to make them figures of fear and disgust. That's my view of the situation, in any case.
Trans people have existed for a long time. There are newpaper articles over a hundred years old about trans folk - and are written in a much more sympathetic way than would be the case now. Even sex-change surgery is older than knee transplants. Something has indeed changed, but I doubt it is the human beings themselves - it is some manufactured reaction that has gained traction. At least partly. There are actual issues and problems to solve, and I fully believe that solving them in a sensible way will be helpful to men, women and everyone in between.
@40:16 No argument here about the IOC being corrupt. Not a great reason to demonise sincere trans folk.
@41:55 Funny in a not funny way how Helen points out the oppressive behaviours of society toward people with non-conforming sexual attraction, and these are the same behaviours many people are displaying towards trans folk. It's LGBTQIAAP+ because it is groups of people who have been judged by society at large to be in some way "less" and so have been treated badly - thrown out the military, disowned by parents, fired from jobs, subjected to conversion practices - or otherwise fallen foul of falling outside of what is seen as "acceptable". I don't think a human being's worth should be down to what society deems "acceptable". Everyone who falls outside of "acceptable" felt the need to band together. Being gender critical feels like groups trying to pull the ladder up after themselves - it feels like we are going backwards, socially, towards some puritan thinking.
@42:54 Do tell, Helen, how gay culture works. I am all ears.
Oh, I see you leave it to the listeners imagination. I'd love to hear a survey to see what the reality is.
@43:05 I am, and always will be, a staunch supporter of "The L comes first". They are the ones who stepped up in teh AIDS crisis and donated the blood that was so desperately needed to help keep those suffering alive.
@45:30 (paraphrasing) "The people in this movement [what Helen calls the "Sex Realists"] have been through some sort fo crucible - and these can be good bad or indifferent". Helen then goes on to list some of the least reality-based groups I could think of. The only one she missed out is "Flat Earthers".
I do find it interesting that Helen and - Maya, is it? - are both economists. I wonder how many sex and reproductive biologists are in this group? Curious to see a break-down.
I am a fan of the acronym FART - Feminism Appropriating Radical Transphobe.
The dichotomy of "Intersex and trans people are a tiny minority, we shouldn't pander to their needs" and "trans and intersex folk are too numerous - they will destroy the data we use!"
It is saddening that some people see this as a battle, while trans folk just want to live their lives without fear or discrimination. If sex and gender were such natural things, we wouldn't need people like Helen to police it.
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Horny Steve thoughts? Okay. Can deliver!
Inspired by my own usually horrendous cramps thanks to uterine fibroids. [Cis afab here. Hi!]
Steve's girlfriend miserable in bed due to a round of particularly bad period cramps, and she's called out of work. He calls out of work too so he can take care of her. Pain meds, heating pad, hot water bottle, etc. Even a homemade tea blend from an older hippie woman designed for menstrual relief that usually works. None of it's working to relieve them. Steve talks her into a hot shower, and even strips down and gets in with her because fuck it he can style his hair again later, taking care of his woman is more important to him. He holds her from behind, facing the water so it can cascade over her abdomen, which he's massaging for her. He's trying his best to be a gentleman, but the love of his life is naked in the shower with him with her back pressed up against his chest and his cock nestled in the crack of her ass. His cock is steadily getting harder because of the contact and the unavoidable tiny movements that are stimulating it. And... well... he's only human and in love at that, so of course his hands start to wander. Her body is responding to his touch, but she's hesitant because she's never been with a guy who would so much as cuddle with her while she was on her period let alone even consider having sex with her. So she reminds him about the period issue, and he points out they're in the shower so any mess is easy to clean up, and the blood would only be additional lubricant. He's kissing her neck and touching her in the ways he knows she likes, reassuring her and turning her on at the same time. He tells her that an orgasm or four might help relieve the cramps, and at worst she'd be distracted from them for a little while. She gives in to what they both want, and turns to kiss him, her hand wrapping around his cock working it until he's completely hard for her.
And maybe they get careless. Maybe they think it's 'safe' because she's on her period (and a lot of us remember how prevalent myths like 'you can't get pregnant on your period' or 'you have to be doing it missionary to get pregnant' were in the 80s and earlier, and how they persisted through the majority of the 90s). So maybe they skip the condom for a change. Maybe Steve fucks her raw, and cums inside her at least once if not more. Maybe it was the worst possible time to skip the condom, but they don't know it at first. Not until she skips one period, then a second. Not until she's hurtling toward the nearest rubbish bin or toilet at the faintest whiff of something that doesn't normally bother her. Not until she's feeling extra tired and sleeping a lot more, and Steve insists on taking her to the doctor. Not until the doctor insists on doing a pregnancy test, and comes back into the exam room to tell them it's positive. They wanted to have kids one day anyway, and while they had planned to wait a few years to save up and they had only just started discussing the idea of marriage the news is in no way unwelcome to either of them. Steve pops off with something like "Guess the magazines are right about orgasms being great cramps relief after all" with the biggest happiest most sickeningly in love with her grin on his face.
My love. I have no notes. This is perfect. Chefs kiss. 10/10. How did you know I have my period and have terrible cramps right this second 😭
But fr i have nothing to add thank you for this it’s exactly what i needed 😤
#u just wrote me a whole ass fic thank u#Obsessed#anon#kit answers#stevie#steve thots#pregnancy tw#< Just in case it’s not your thing !!
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Hello Darlings~
About time I dropped a little "about me" post to pin, right? Oh don't worry, I shan't bore you for long. My Carrd link there has a directory of all my fanfic works, giving you an overview of pairings, content, word count, and a little summary of each.
I'm Tavylia Sin, or you may call me Tavylia, Lia, or Tavy, I'm not very fussy on that one, darlings~ My pronouns are she/her, and I'm a Cis Woman from the Nine Hells (or the UK, as it is otherwise known).
If you'd like something a little more detailed about me, keep reading~
So, who in the nine hells am I, anyway?
Well, I'm a thirty-[vague coughing] year old creative writer. I've been writing other things, unpublished, for years now, but it was Baldur's Gate 3 that pulled me out of my shell and into the world of NSFW writing.
So, I hadn't really written a single word of smut before late September 2023.
In the month of October, I wrote over 80,000 words of it.
I know, I am not sure how I did that either, but the passion took me and I didn't want to let go either, darlings, I was having too much fun. I still am!
What are your main works and pairings?
My first work was ATG, aka A Tav's Guide, or to give it the full and proper title:
Of Living, Loving, and the Strangest of Bedfellows - A Tav's Guide to Fucking Across Faerun: Sordid Coast Edition
A cautionary tale, loves, never let Volo name your work even if it is funny at the time!
Anyway, ATG was meant to be a game-paralleling fun dive into how my Tav romanced Astarion but then still took every opportunity to indulge in lustful pleasures that was presented to her. There's some emotion in there, a reason to why she does who what she does, and although in many places I try to stick to canon there are plenty where I also deviate from it to find more fun~
I then started trying my hand at some non-ATG pairings and stories, indulging in a few One Shot stories as creative exercise and a few requests for people in the community. It has all kept growing from there!
My favourites to write for are Haarlep and Raphael, as well as Astarion, Halsin, and Gale, though I'm honestly happy to give almost anything a try! I love trying to capture their authentic voices and find ways to stay true to their character motivations, or at least to twist them towards my sinful designs~ I'm also looking at writing more lesser-seen characters and pairings so watch this space.
What about Style? Tropes? Themes?
Darlings, most of my works will include some form of bondage, BDSM, powerplay, and kink. I find it all so very fun, and it can be gentle as well as intense, depending on the participants and the mood.
I also write some occasional angst and fluff, when I'm not feeling the smut-fic flowing, and deeply enjoy exploring emotions.
You'll find a lot of my writing runs long - even here, brevity is clearly not my strong suit! I enjoy longer dialogue, a build up to give context to the scene, and at least a little plot even to a One Shot scenario. When I really have fun with a piece, I just don't want it to end, really~
In terms of language, you may well find my works to be more verbose, and despite the topics I prefer to lean on softer terms and describe sensations and emotions more than the physical parts involved. I want you to be able to immerse into the scene, to let the feelings surround you and encompass you as the words flow from my page into your mind~ I adore reading other styles, but for some reason I struggle with writing certain words and phrases into my own pieces. So I find ways to be creative and still maintain the sex and the lust~
Whilst I might have some preferences in who I like to write for, or find some dynamics easier to write, I am also more than happy to write for suggested trans and nonbinary OCs, or if you asked me to write a canon character as trans or nonbinary I would love to try my very best to make your dreams come true~ It's a little disappointing we don't have trans/nonbinary main characters or NPCs in the canon, but of course fanfic can change that if you so wish.
Incidentally, I always refer to Haarlep with they/them pronouns. This is what is used in the game from the Narrator, and also fits to how they are able to take on any physical form with little concern beyond what pleasure my be wrought from it. In my opinion, they have no interest in whatever "gender" is, unless it's some new sex move they haven't tried yet.
Have I seen you somewhere else?
Maybe darling~ I use this same name for Twitter, Tumblr, and Discord. Anything tied to my presence will use this same name, so that's how you'll find me.
I'm most active in Galecord, where I adore playing with my fellow degenerates in the NSFW channels as we encourage each other with fic writing and art, enjoying each others work and gleefully sharing samples as we write too. My very dear darlings over there mean so very much to me, and have consistently been a voice of support that has fired me up to keep writing.
Otherwise you might see me in a couple of others, like Tav1's performer's official server, but you'll rarely find me outside of NSFW zones. Indeed, the Tav'ern Babes discord is the only one I am in that is linked to any of the performers, because he doesn't seem to visit that area of the server. I would never wish to put my work where it isn't wanted nor personally push it towards any of the performers or game staff - if they find it themselves I'm more than happy for them to enjoy it (and will never want to know if they hate it, that might crush my soul), but it's here for us, the fans, to enjoy and play with as an extension to the game.
Questions?
You're welcome to drop me an ask, darlings, or to contact me through any of the links on my Carrd.
If it's about my personal life though, sorry loves~ Part of what gives me the confidence to write and share NSFW works is the little layer of anonymity. I assure you though that my personality and platonic affections are entirely genuine, and I do intend anything nefarious~
I have been asked about KoFi or commissions once or twice, but fan fiction works should remain free to protect our right to keep making it. If I were being cheeky then I might suggest that I wouldn't turn down a gift voucher, but honestly I just enjoy being able to socialise and create within such a wonderful community.
Some day I'll try and publish an original smutwork, make just a few pennies from it perhaps, to keep myself supplied with hot drinks and snacks while I curl up in my SmutCave tapping away at some new WIP that has seized my soul~
In short, loves, I'm a little bit like a sexy Batman.
I'm the hero nobody asked for that turns up in the dark of the night, few know my secret identity, I have some wonderful accomplices in the Smutstice League (we're making that a thing as of this moment, right?) and I hope to make the world a better place in my own little way. By writing too much.
The main difference? I'm not a millionaire/billionaire, and my fashion sense is just slightly better~
#fanfic#baldurs gate 3#bg3#bg3 fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#ao3fic#meet the author#meet the writer#about myself#about my blog#about my writing#carrd#fanfiction directory#reading material#because I am sexy batman#without the cash#damn
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The boomer understanding of transgender people is really interesting because sometimes, it can be weirdly progressive and other times not so much.
One time I was talking about Chaz Bono. I can't really remember the context. My mom asked me why I referred to Chaz Bono as a transgender man when Chaz Bono is just a man.
I thought this was maybe kind of cool. Disclaimer, I'm cis so what do I know. I know many transgender people are loud and proud about being trans, but I also think it's normal whether you're trans or cis, to just want to be seen as who you are and get through your day without being hassled.
I picked her brain a little and she was like " well, Chaz Bono used to be a woman, but Chaz Bono is a man now. He had a sex change."
Anyway, it seems like my mom, who works in the medical field, honest to god, believes there is one single surgery that can just flip all your characteristics from one sex to the other. This is obviously wrong, but I think a lot of people her age believe this and it tends to be more liberal people her age and not the other way around.
You could argue this places a lot of emphasis on passing and I could agree with that, but in the case of my mom, I truly think any trans person, passing or not, regardless of how much they've medically transitioned, could just tell her they've had a sex change and she'd be like cool, you are what you say you are. She ,at worst, would probably secretly think "maybe, they have a shitty doctor".
Now, I'm not saying there are no issues with her way of thinking and that it doesn't come from a place of ignorance, but it is interesting to me how there are some narrow circumstances where it comes across as more accepting than millenials can often be. My generation, myself unfortunately included, is often guilty of using "trans" as a qualifier, as way of saying "well, they're a woman but...", fill in any gender identity, etc.
Another time, the topic of transgender athletes in sports came up, something we probably never would have talked about if the right hadn't made the topic newsworthy. My mom, who is an avid tennis player, immediately brought up Renée Richards and said "Well, Renée Richards just did okay back in the 70's. She didn't dominate. It probably depends on the circumstances." I thought this was a pretty nuanced take on a pretty nuanced issue that she came to organically.
Of course, the main issue is that my mom has absolutely zero understanding of being non-binary or even a binary trans person is intentionally gnc in their presentation. I've tried to explain it to her many times in simple terms and like any movie with a non-linear timeline, she just can't wrap her head around it. That said, I think my mom tries to be accepting generally. I know one of my mom's closest friends has a non-binary kid that came to our Thanksgiving once and my mom was earnestly trying to use they/them pronouns and even corrected some of the other guests.
I know this whole post might come across as me trying to excuse my mom's transphobia because I, like anyone else, just want to believe that my parent is good person. Honestly, maybe it is. Maybe, I just lack the self awareness. But I'm also just personally fascinated by it. And it's also true that LGBTQ boomers, the people my mom learned from, tend to have a different understanding of these issues and different terminology than younger LGBTQ people. You could completely chalk that up to internalized bias, but it's a lot more complicated than that. We're talking about social constructs here.
My personal opinion is ( and don't get me wrong, I can totally see why someone from a marginalized group would validly disagree with the following sentiment) that for the most part, with some obvious exceptions, how someone arrives a place of tolerance does not matter, as long as they get there. The ends usually justify the means. And I think the job of an ally, something I try to be, is to foster understanding where you can. It's mentally exhausting for someone from a marginalized group to constantly have to justify their existence in the world. We need radical empathy. Sometimes, I am the ally I need to be or close to it and sometimes, I'm more like my mom, well-meaning but ignorant.
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Hello, I write smuts and stuff a lot, and I’ve been feeling inspired by the characters in Castlevania nocturne, but I want to ask your opinion. I’m a cis-female who’s bisexual, but I want to write something for Olrox or Mizrak, because I find them interesting and I want to help there be content, but is it ok for me to write? It would be for a gender neutral reader like most of my work, but I don’t want to intrude somewhere that would make people uncomfortable. How do you feel about that? /gen
Disclaimer: I’m just a dude behind a screen so you don’t have to listen to me, I do not speak for the whole community but only my experience but I do appreciate you asking.
I want to highlight that I’m not 100% sure if Mizrak or Olrox are gay or bisexual. I just know they’re both mlm and I also know that Olrox’s previous lover was a man but I’ll give you these questions to make your decision
1. Is it appropriate for me to take a canonically/ implied gay/ lesbian/ bi character and change their sexuality to suit my fic?
Let’s imagine an implied/ canonical lesbian character. What can I, a male reader author, write about a woman, who’s explicitly only shown interest in other women?
One might say that queer people take canonically/implied straight characters and change them for the sake of a fic. Straight is the default sexuality. Usually that means the creators have put little to no thought in who the character is attracted to while a queer character’s sexuality was created with intent, that intent being to represent a group who rarely see themselves on the big screen.
When we take a canonically / implied straight character and change their sexuality we take maybe a cherry or two of content that makes up a whole cherry cake. When we change a queer character’s sexuality we are now taking limited accessible content and making it inaccessible for a certain group of ppl.
2. Is it inclusive?
This is where the discussion of gender neutral pieces is raised.
In my opinion gender neutral pieces are rarely written with a potential male reader in mind seeing as fem aligned people often think that omitting pronouns is what makes a piece gender neutral but there’s so much more to it.
“gender neutral” smut pieces for example, more often than not center around piv sex meaning that the gn piece in question is most suitable for a bottom male reader. That is all fine and dandy we cannot include everyone (that being top male reader or even a verse male reader) but majority if not all of these gn smut pieces are only suitable for a bottom male reader
In terms of plot, more often than not gender neutral pieces will perpetuate heteronormativity in such way that the male character that the story revolves around will often take up a stereotypical masculine role while the “gn” reader is pushed into a stereotypical feminine role for example: the male character will ask the “gn” reader out on a date, never the other way around. Although it’s just one example, this is usually the pattern that follows in these gn neutral pieces. Such pattern can even be seen in the language that is used in these gn pieces, more specifically the descriptive words that are used to portray the supposed “gn” reader.
With that being said I am fully aware that the exclusion of male readers does not have malice intent. A lot of it stems from the lack of knowledge (I suppose) for what a gender neutral reader is because sometimes pieces will intentional be written for a fem reader in mind but be tagged as gn reader. Other times it’s because fem aligned people are so used to being catered to, they cannot see the elements that contribute to one’s exclusion. Or it may as well be because they’ve grown up with fem reader centered pieces and their work is bound to reflect that in one way or another.
As of now a lot of us male readers do not engage in gn pieces because 1. A majority will intend to write for a fem reader but tag it as gn 2. Majority is piv smut pieces that are bound to exclude a portion of the male readers. 3. The only thing the author has done in question is omit pronouns and slapped a gn reader label on it
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why is genderbending bad? /gen
This is kind of a loaded question and I will answer it to the best of my abilities and through my own understanding of genderbending and gender identity politics but if you don’t want to read all that i’ll just leave you with the short answer: It’s complicated. I don’t think “genderbending” is inherently a bad thing (i do it) what i do take an issue with is the actual name of this trend as well as some of the rhetoric and ideas about gender that run rampant along it that have largely been ignored or gone unchallenged.
I also do not think that the bulk of this work has been made with malicious intent, rather just out of ignorance in a cissexist society. so yeah, complicated. I would also like to point out that I am gender non-binary and identify as trans, so these are just my personal thoughts regarding this type of content in fandom spaces and the ways I think it (more often than i’d prefer) plays into the erasure of trans and intersex identities from the conversation and can perpetuate cissexist ideas of gender and gender identity.
Anyways, long answer is long so more after the cut -> -> ->
For starters I think the most egregious thing to me about this whole genderbend thing is the name. now, i absolutely hate the name because genderbending is never just about changing a characters gender is it? what we generally understand as genderbending in fandom is typically the changing or switching of a character’s sex from male to female or from female to male and assigning to them the gender that “matches” their sex. And if this is exactly what you’re trying to do then that’s fine! i don’t want to be the arbitrator of what people can or can’t do in fandom spaces so… just maybe call it what it is? maybe also understand how this trend feeds into the rhetoric that gender is a binary and how it conflates sex and gender as if they were interchangeable or one and the same as well as perpetuating some outdated and ill informed views on sex, gender and sexuality too!(since typically when a character gets genderbent their sexuality changes as well)
There’s a lot of discourse on this very topic and much of it might probably disagree with me on these points so i encourage everyone to seek alternative opinions on the matter, but from my own understanding of gender, gender identity and gender expression, i find that the idea of “genderbending” —in the ways it has been traditionally done by fandoms— can have some cissexist implications:
It implies that there are only two genders which are opposite from each other, and that those are (generally cis) “male” or (generally cis) “female”.
Gender is not a binary and gender is a social construct. this is something that psychologists, anthropologists, sociologists, biologists, gender theorists and medical professionals have all agreed upon for decades. The thing that happens in genderbending where a character can only jump from fully mature phenotypical male “man” to a fully mature phenotypical female “woman” (or vice versa) without any wiggle room in between is ill-informed at best. And then there are people who will say “oh well that’s not true because i saw a non-binary intersex genderbend once!” and all i have to say to this is… okay. Yes this kind of NB “genderbend” does exist but it’s is not the norm. For the most part when looking up the genderbend tag will generally bring up a lot of stereotypically female petra parkers and harriet potters, and this is just the truth.
It implies that physical traits and gender are related.
Usually this type of work will have things like a tall, flat chested, muscly “masculine” character switch genders to become short, curvy, large breasted, “feminine” one (usually without any regard to how that character’s personality and lifestyle affect their physical attributes) typically the act of genderbending will come along with changes to a characters genitalia, gender markers, and phenotype, not just their gender. I trust you understand how this idea is inherently cissexist and reinforces the thought that things like the set of genitals you were born with ought to dictate the gender you identify as. This also gets into the territory of intersex erasure. Since our society has yet to come to a consensus of how intersex individuals ought to look like (and how could they!) it is less likely that you will find a genderbend that envisions a character as intersex given that genderbending isn’t just about changing someone’s gender but also making them look the part. Which is a whole other can of worms because what does a woman or a man look like? what does an intersex or a non-binary or an agender person look like? these nuances often get pushed to the side in genderbending. And if you have found genderbent art or fanfic that subverts all of these trends that’s awesome! But again, it’s still not the norm.
I know this one sounds bad, but there are some arguments against it that are very valid to me; namely that although not every trans person’s goal is to appear cis-passing, there are some trans folk whose goal is to look as cis as possible and their visions and fantasies of what their ideal gender presentation ought be reflected in this type of art is imo quite valid.
It implies that someone “changing genders” can be reduced to a thought experiment.
Maybe this isn’t the best wording but it’s when you see genderbend being done as a way to explore how a character would be different if they had just been born in a different body. This one doesn’t sound too bad, it’s just a little thought experiment right? and in a way it is but i still want to bring it up because again, it assumes that being born with a specific set of physical attributes will dictate a persons gender. This also could imply that anyone who identifies with a gender that is different to the one they were assigned at birth does not have an equally as meaningful relation to their own gender as someone who was born with the “right” set of genitals. It is also kind of funny to me that some of these genderbenders who just want to do a thought experiment with their blorbo would want to see said blorbo navigating the “opposite” gender from a cis perspective. Now i don’t have any sources to back me up on this but i’m just going to assume that between a trans person and a cis person, the individual who is most likely to be aware of gender identity politics is probably not going to be the cis person. just make the character trans just make them trans
Why I do it
Literally i had not thought about this topic in over a decade, and i had no genuine interest in seeing characters under this type of lens since i was like 12. However, the idea for lesbyler was born as a response to the critiques toward byler fans that said the ship would not be so popular if they had been two girls instead of two boys. I guess you could say it started as a joke or out of spite but in my personal case (which i know is true for many others in the fandom) it became a way to project my own sapphic youth into a ship that is so special to me. Of course i would love them more if those characters had been written as girls! Byler has such a soft spot in my heart because it’s the story of my first love —its the story of a lot of peoples first love— and so in that vein i thought it was permissible to make it all the more mine. I did not entertain the thought of “making” them girls because girls are the opposite of boys and i thought that was cool, or because i wanted to see lesbian rep instead of gay rep, i entertained the thought of two lesbian best friends navigating first love because it’s the story i would have liked to see in a show like stranger things.
Furthermore, i also do not see my lesbyler characters as inherently cis, I still see them as an offshoot or extension of the original characters, so in my head they’re just inherently trans. Of course that is just me and there is nothing wrong if you prefer to see them as cis as long as you understand the aforementioned discussions of gender at play.
Am I also perpetuating the harmful rhetoric by indulging in this type of trend regardless of my intent? Maybe. It’s so hard to put yourself on blast but I will for a second here. I think the vast majority of this type of content is ill-informed, but i don’t think the bulk of it was made with the intent of harming minorities, so i don’t think making it is inherently bad. I think what can be harmful is to have these ideas go unchallenged in this specific trend where they would have been more widely addressed if it were on any other more publicly available platform, and i think that talking about it and bringing this topic up when i make this type of work is a good opportunity to make others aware how cissexism can be perpetuated even in the ways we interact with fandom.
I don’t believe i am spreading hate or harm when i make this type of work, but maybe i’ll cringe at this and change my opinions for the better in the future who knows. All i’m saying is that i think the best way to approach this trend is through information and awareness and on that regard i do consider myself more well-read on this topic than your average joe 🤷🏻
There’s many people that will disagree with me who will say genderbending is more harmful than i claim it to be or that it is not wrong at all, so i would just like to reiterate that this is all based on my experience, understanding, and knowledge on the topic of both genderbending and gender identity politics.
One more time I don’t think imagining a character as a different gender is inherently bad but i do think that a lot of the ideas perpetuated by fandom genderbending are some of the same rhetoric and propaganda that has been used to erase and harm trans and intersex individuals.
Last thing and i am saying all of this in good faith, if you ever looked at my lesbyler (or any genderbent art really) art and thought “those characters are cis girls”, or that they had to have been “born” girls because the opposite of boy is girl, i would like you to consider and challenge why you had those thoughts. Maybe even question why little compulsory cissexist thoughts like those are part of our every day lives. I also just want to say that if you want to make genderbend art or fic go for it, but I do strongly urge you to first consider understanding and acknowledging the arguments i’ve made here. Just know what you’re getting into and know that there is more than meets the eye with this topic. aaaand just remember that these arguments feel hidden and compulsory for a reason, cissexism is everywhere, even in fandom spaces.
Also there’s a chance you’ll probably go your entire fandom career without ruffling anyones feathers about it but i would just advise to be careful, be respectful and know when to apologize and move on. And most importantly don’t forget that trans, non-binary, intersex, agender, gender fluid, etc. identities exist so there’s a lot more options and experiences for you to think about if you do decide to play with the gender and identity of a character.
#sorry for tagging this as byler but i feel like this is relevant to the lesbyler uptick#let me know what other tags i should add pls#byler#lesbyler#millow#genderbend#gender#gender discussion
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what’s grindr like for u as a pre-t / early t trans man? I wanna get on but I’m scared 🫣
so i have never met someone irl from this damn app but here's what i've experienced. keep in mind i am not skinny/fit and i'm 21 (so if you're older things might be different, if you're younger things might be different).
lots of the scariest looking men you could possibly imagine hitting you up. like. i dont like calling people ugly but god.
chasers offering you money, often the men mentioned above
married men who want to cheat on their wives with you because to them you are not technically a woman but you're basically a woman.
some normal guys will talk to you but be aware that this is not a dating app this is a hookup app. im scared as fuck all the time of sex so this does not bode well for them wanting to meet up with me
i would like to add that with the married men specifically they will sweet talk the fuck out of you and pretend that they view you as anything other than a vagina. they will entertain conversation for far longer but don't let that fool you into sleeping with them. i've had some good convos with them about sexuality but that was me using them for insight.
here's the thing with being a pre-t trans guy and fucking married cis guys. there is a reason they're looking for you and not any other guy on that app and that is because they want to fuck a young afab fem person that isn't their wife. all four of the married men i talked to were very conscientious of my identity and actually went out of their way to reaffirm it. but what i realized is, they know that if their wife were to find their grindr they could say "well sorry sweetie i just wanted to suck dick and you can't give me that" and that miiiight save their marriage or at the very least soften the blow. their line of thinking here with pre-t trans guys is basically i can fuck someone with a pussy and say they're not a woman to my wife.
if you wanna go ahead and blow the guy then whatever like i won't judge YOU. do what you're going to do, i guess. me personally i can't do that to the wife. but be aware that that's how a lot of them think.
this may sound kinda scary but remember you don't have to keep responding to people even if you're in the middle of a convo. idk what the etiquette is if you're a cis guy talking to other cis guys but for trans people if you start to feel unsafe/weird/disinterested in general, bail. don't worry about this person's feelings they will find another person, trust me
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hi alice!! here to share my gender as well as sexuality (or lack thereof). i'm nonbinary, i go between 'i like being nonbinary so much and i will get very frustrated when someone misgenders me, which happens often' and 'i don't really feel like anything, is there even a point in self-identifying as nonbinary?'. i don't have a lot of body dysphoria i think, my hips bother me and the idea of going on t or getting top surgery sounds nice to me, but i feel like getting past all the medical gatekeeping (and probably having to lie to doctors in order to get the treatment i would like) might not be worth it?? idk. sometimes i think about just being a cis woman, but that thought never really computes, like i can't fully imagine myself in those terms. i kinda just want to be masc-androgynous with body hair and sideburns but then i'm like What If I Transition And Regret It lol. my feelings about sexuality are simpler: i'm basically as asexual as possible. ive never had sex and i've honestly never been horny in my life. sex is kinda like going on a rollercoaster to me: something i've heard great things about and would love to try someday just to experience what it's like. but while i've had the chance to go on rollercoasters before, sex just feels like something i am physically incapable of. like i've tried masturbating and it never does anything for me (except maybe making me have to pee). ive thought about asking a doctor about whether my junk just doesn't work. should probably do that. anyway thanks for sharing all these asks, they're fun to read and it's nice to know that there are people who do transition stuff more because they feel like it than because of intense dysphoria :) as far as kink stuff goes, as i said i don't really have any experience with sex stuff but i could probably be some sort of henchman in one of the kidnapping scenarios people keep sending you. like, opening the car door for you to get pushed inside the car with your hands tied, guarding the interrogation room door, fetching handcuffs or strange-looking firearms for your kidnapper to threaten you with if that helps?
As far as gender goes, ‘I don’t really feel anything about it but I kind of want to transition a bit’ is a) a perfectly sufficient reason to transition b) sometimes kind of hiding actually feeling quite a lot about it but not knowing that until you start
There’s no harm in getting a doctor to look at you, and it might also be connected to not feeling very gender, but you can just be asexual and that is valid too
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