#Sex Clinic Near Me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maroonsweetpea · 27 days

Text

This may make some of my newer followers disgusted by me but I feel like this perspective should be addressed. I have had problems with hypersexuality since genuinely as long as I can remember. Like, I'm talking about six and seven years old. Before I even understood what was wrong with me. I'm not going to get into details because the truth is that the details that I have are blurry at best and any attempt I have ever made to uncover more has only led to panic attacks and alcohol relapses. At around 13 I discovered porn online. Not like I didn't know it existed, but, I had never interacted with that kind of content previously. I had a serious porn problem until I discovered radical feminism, honestly. It opened my eyes to what should have been in front of me. Things I knew deep down but wanted to forget because it's okay if I'm imagining it happening to horrible me, right?

And, I'm not talking about the most baseline forgivable. I mean hard kinks. I mean that I was self-destructive to the point that I begged my boyfriend to go farther than he seemed to want to at times. And I honestly wanted to die and for him to be the one to kill me. When I was being choked I feel like I was going to reach the gates of Heaven. That peace was nearing because death is the ultimate freedom. I was so masochistic. I was such an alcoholic, dealing with anorexia....what I have never been clinically diagnosed with but I could only describe as violent OCD. I thought I could control what terrified me by playing pretend. Needless to say it did not work and it did not help in any capacity. But, if you asked me back then I would have told you it did. And I would have mostly believed that.

I channeled all of these problems into sex. It was all I could think of. I masturbated CONSTANTLY. It's like I was on fire all the time. The online communities I lingered on and even some female friends irl to this day told me that it was completely fine and healthy to cope with these problems, especially the childhood....whatever with things like CNC. That it was just my old man that didn't do it correctly. I think about a lot of this almost daily and guilt isn't a good enough word to describe it. If there is a word beyond that or shame I don't know it, but, I feel it. At this point in my life my sexuality.....is almost a dead weight. A big part of me thinks I will never be cured, that my need for pain and my need for sex will trickle back the same and I'll explode.

I say all of this not for pity points, but because I think that fucked up women deserve to have a place here and for things like this to be discussed more openly. People can't be born pure and many people learn by terrible mistakes. Or maybe I'm the odd man out. Either way.

#ive made a few posts abt this and delted bc 1 no one interacted lmfaoo and #2 it was just way too personal #radblr #radical feminist safe #radical feminists do interact

196 notes · View notes

transhuman-priestess · 5 months

Text

Sometimes the struggles we go through to be ourselves can be as rewarding as the end result.

A pretty breezy one here. Only content notes are surgery mention and needle mention. No gore to be found, no sex neither. Just good ol' fashioned yearning.

This is definitely a bit of a right angle to my usual stuff. There's no horror, it's light on dialogue, but its in a very similar space to a lot of the other stuff, just a different way of going at it.

Daughter of Elysium

I scheduled the surgery without telling my parents. They wouldn’t understand.

When I came out as trans they were supportive, in perhaps the slightly awkward way that cis people tend to be when they want to be accepting of things they don’t understand. This was different though.

I sat in the waiting room of the clinic in Montevideo, lined with faux wood paneling and sleek glass. Peak 2010s architecture. An older building, but the clinic’s reputation spoke for itself. There was no way I was going to get this procedure done in North America. Too expensive, too niche.

Too many hoops to jump through, too. Go see this doctor, talk to this therapist. Walk with these crutches. Practice with this fake charger for a year. Bullshit, all of it. I just wanted to be me.

So I saved money where I could. I slept in the heat of the Californian summers, kept the lights off early in the winter, rode the train to work, ate cheap meals, canceled all my subscriptions, lived in a 300 sq foot apartment in Watsonville.

3 years and $100,000 Californian Dollars later, I got on a train in Santa Cruz for a 3-day journey to Uruguay.

It was late June, a few days before the solstice. This far south of the equator that meant the sun rose late and set early. It was early morning, a quarter to 7, and 5 hours ahead of California time. I was used to being awake at night, but that only made the early sunrise more disorienting.

“Lewis, Kara,” a thrill of adrenaline rushed through me as the receptionist called my name. After reciting my birthday to confirm my identity, I was taken back to preop. I changed into a surgical gown and then lay down on a gurney while a nurse ran an IV to my arm and started saline. I thought about asking what happened once the arm was removed, but I figured it wasn’t worth the explanation.

For the next 10 minutes I stared at the clock. I hadn’t brought anyone with me. This was something to do for me, by myself. No partner, no friends. I had brought a bag with one change of clothes, my passport, and my phone. I thought about calling my friend Cory, but decided against it. No sense in getting anyone worried. As far as the outside world was concerned, I was on vacation.

I guess that wasn’t too far from the truth.

At 7 sharp, a couple of orderlies came in, checked my name and date of birth, and released the brakes on the gurney. They wheeled me out into the chilled hallway, and through the double doors into the operating room.

Inside the surgeon, the anesthesiologist, and several techs were waiting. A nurse placed a mask on my face and told me to count backwards from ten. A sweet, chemical smell filled my nostrils, and the world faded out.

* * *

It wasn’t the first time I’d had surgery, so the novelty of coming up from the anesthesia surprised me. Rather than the slow, heavy feeling I’d expected, it was like waking up from a nap. Disorienting, but in a cozy way. Nothing hurt. I hadn’t expected that. Probably the painkillers were still feeding in.

I tried to open my eyes, but my lids only twitched slightly. I heard one of the nurses say “You’re awake! The doctor will be in to see you soon. Everything went well, congratulations.”

I tried to reply, but my jaw moved jerkily and I had trouble forming words. The result was a disjointed grunt emerging from my mouth. But I could tell that I had a mouth, which was good.

The nurse left. I could hear his shoes squeaking off into the distance. As they faded, the thrum of the HVAC replaced it, and an occasional mechanical whirring near me. My eyes were still closed, and for the first time I noticed the green letters in the corner of my vision. Instinctively, I tried to look at them, but they moved with my eyes. After a time I was able to make them stay put long enough to look at them.

ARLINGTON ROBOTICS SYSTEMS

BANGOR, WASHINGTON, CASCADE REPUBLIC

I managed to open my eyes after a few minutes. At first it was all much too bright, everything blown to white, but after a few seconds my vision dimmed to a comfortable level. I focused on a tiny hole in the floating ceiling above. After a moment, I managed to zoom my vision in.

I marveled for a time at the detail in the ceiling. This mass-produced object, fiberglass and paper, contained so much beauty. How many times had I stared a ceiling like this without noticing?

The doctor came in and reaffirmed that everything had gone well. She told me that rehab would start in a few days, once my new body’s systems stabilized and adjusted to neural commands. I tried to smile but couldn’t manage to get my face to move right.

The doctor chuckled and plugged a display into a port on the back of my new neck. She held it up to me, and I watched as the words “What is this for?” appeared on it. She explained that until my vocal rehab started to kick in, this display would help me communicate.

She told me to raise my arms out to my sides. I struggled with this task for a moment before finally managing to do so. For the first time I got a look at the body I’d picked out from the inside.

Gray plating, seams that slid over each other, an unapologetically mechanical body. I’d wanted that. They’re getting good at synthetic skin these days, but I wanted to distance myself from humanity. There was nothing wrong with humanity, but it never spoke to me. I’d always been somewhat apart.

* * *

I slept most of that first day. The next day they let me eat. The bioprocessor seemed to be working, the staff said, but I should keep it light, and stick to carbs rather than fat and protein until the new tract could build up a sufficient biome to support those.

Odd as it sounds, it was 36 hours post-op before I realized I hadn’t peed. The charging station that I hooked into took care of filtration and detox of what little biomass I had left. I felt suddenly elated. I actually tried to get up out of bed, and promptly tripped over my own foot, smashing my face against a wall.

The nurses rushed in, worry on their faces, but I couldn’t stop laughing, and that’s when I heard my voice.

It wasn’t like my old voice. It wasn’t cold and computerized, but warm, and rich, like an old Roland Jupiter, full of dense harmonics, singing highs, and comforting, enveloping lows.

Soon I was sitting on the floor, sobbing. My eyes didn’t water anymore, but I still went through the motions. I held my gray plastic hands to my face, and touched them to my cheeks. I felt the subtle vibrations as motors moved my eyes around. I had never felt so happy, so myself. So real.

* * *

After a week I was able to clumsily walk around the hospital room, and they moved me to the recovery house. I met a few other converts there. There was a girl named Morgan from Seattle, a guy named Case from Kansas City, a few others. I mostly kept to myself.

I started speech therapy shortly after the move. Lots of reading convoluted sentences, but also singing, reading poetry, even some play-acting. I grew to love my voice. It was obviously synthetic, but that only made it feel more like a part of me.

Motor therapy was interesting. They asked me if I played any instruments. I told them I played bass. The therapist walked to a closet and returned with a bass made entirely out of carbon fiber. I asked why they made it from that, the therapist told me I’d see shortly, and handed me the Bass.

I immediately gripped the neck with far more force than I’d intended, denting the frets and the strings. I said I understood now.

Time flew. The solstice came and went, and by August I could speak clearly, play “Highway Star,” and wash my own chassis without damaging it. I could dress myself. I could walk without tripping over my feet.

On an evening in early August, I bade farewell to my fellow converts at the recovery house, and made my way to the train station. I could have taken a cab, or the bus, but I opted to walk. It was 8 miles and took all night, but I enjoyed every moment of it. Never tiring, stopping for food to recharge myself here and there at convenience stores and night markets.

I settled into my roomette for the trip back to Santa Cruz, looking out at Montevideo Bay. I saw my reflection in the window of my train, and for the first time, really took it in, with eyes that were my own.

#ivy michaels writing #robot girl #cyborg girl #cyborg #transhumanism #cyborg conversion

263 notes · View notes

s-4pphics · 1 year

Text

a lil meanmechanic!ellie and snobbybitch!reader hc list bc i’m clinically ill and my dark thoughts always win i was gonna write a lil fic but i got tired lol long day

but hopefully thisll suffice for now😚idk how many imma make for them but the sex gon go crazy

wc;cw: 930 real short n sweet, slutty rude annoying rich!oc, i’m not kidding she’s a bad person, more monologues when will it end, oc is horny and a top letting y’all know rn, imma make this toxic🤭

your shiny brand new pink bentley just stopped working! what the fuck!

after your dad gifted you your third new car, he instructed you to pull up to the swarovski store and pick up your sparkly limited edition lavender tinted lux chrono watch…. and this happens!

how the fuck were you going to get your new watch without transportation?!

you pulled your phone outta your chanel bag and googled car stopped help…

call a tow truck?!

don’t people just buy new cars when they stop working?!

you dialed the first number suggested online

“YELLO!” a friendly gruff voice came through the phone

“ummm, hi, my car stopped working— “

“okay, great! where’s your car located?”

“it’s uh.. near this mall complex.”

“…okay. i mean…. i mean what’s the address?”

…. you don’t fucking know, you’re stranded!

after spending the next ten minutes asking strangers where the hell you were, you irritatingly whined the address to the man on the phone

why does nothing go your way?!

“okay great! we’ll be there in about an hour to get it!”

an hour?!

but your swarovski watch—!

“hello?”

“…yeah, whatever.” you said, hanging up.

this is fucking stupid!

after an hour of angrily pouting in your front seat, you saw a red truck pull up behind you in your rearview

fucking finally!

you got out your new baby and saw—

oh, fuck

oh fuck!

WEEEEEEWOOOOOOWWEEEEEE—

your brain was sending off red alarms!

behind the man, there was a girl in overalls and a wife-beater, dirty sneakers(yuck!), and a bandana on to keep her sweaty hair outta her face

and your mood immediately got better!

she’s sexy she’s sexy she’s sexy she’s sexy—

“um, hi! ‘m joel! you called for a tow?”

oh yeah

“y-yup! that’s me! my cars over there,” you pointed in some random direction as you stared at the girl

“….okay, uh, we’ll get that loaded and we’ll head over to the repair shop!”

“uh huh,” you were so dazed as you watched her biceps ripple as she got some paperwork outta the car

“….right!” and he walked away

she’s coming over oh god she’s coming over!

“hey. this your car?”

“mhm!”

you looked at her name tag

ellie

hm…wanna fuck?—

“cool. just need you to sign here. we’ll do the diagnosis when we get to the shop—“

you didn’t even care about what the fuck she was saying

you wanna eat her out so bad and buy her whatever she wants

you work so hard, baby, lemme take the stress away!

“…are you gonna sign…or?”

you were too busy looking at her freckled face and scarred eyebrows to notice she was holding a clipboard out to you

how about you sign these damn wedding papers!

“sorry!”

“it’s cool…yeah, just sign at the bottom.”

she pointed at the dotted line with her calloused finger and you almost sucked it into your mouth!

turn her out turn her out!

she finally met your eyes

you wanted her clit in your mouth—!

“um… you can hop in the truck and we’ll head over, it’s like.. 20 minutes—“

“great! let’s go!”

ride my face!

when you arrived at the dealership, you got…. uncomfortable.

why was it so loud and… grungy looking?

the nice man that answered the phone—joel— guided you into the garage and ushered you to sit on…. dirty chairs and you wanted god to strike you down now

“we’re gonna take a look at your car! it’s in pretty good condition so it shouldn’t be long!” joel screamed at you from the garage exit

you sat and nodded and

you looked so outta place in here

pastel colors, shimmery necklace and bracelets, heels!

you stood out like a sore thumb!

rusted, eggshell walls, dimly lit, dusty floor

you wanna leave so bad what the fuck—

“hey!”

sike you wanna stay ellie’s so fucking fine—

“your car battery’s connection is loose, we’re gonna replace it—“

“today's my birthday!”

you were biting your lip and looking at her with glossy lust filled eyes and you wanted your head between her thighs—

“….’scuse me?”

“it’s my birthday!”

“happy….. happy birthday?”

“thank you!” now lemme give you head—

“uh huh….. so, the replacement battery is gonna be $60, i can ring you up right now so you're not waiting when your car’s charged.”

you followed her to the desk and….

her fucking back and her shoulders and her ass—

her back her back! you wanna scratch it and make her scream!—

“cash or card?”

“card. my black card!” she needa know you’ll buy her everything—

“….right. go ‘head and swipe.”

you wanna swipe your tongue on her pussy!

but you swiped your card

and you also reached in your chanel and grabbed a couple hundreds out

“here you go! for your troubles!”

“what.”

“you fixed my baby! you should get a huge tip! like a really…. really fat one!

lemme give you this tip!

she must’ve noticed your tone, nastily sweet like honey, because her eyes widened before she let out a shocked scoff

you have her you have her—

“are you kidding me right now?”

what.

“hm?”

“i’m askin’ if you’re fucking serious? we don’t accept charity.” and she got up

and she looked mad

what the hell?

“w-what! no, it’s not like that— “

“yeah, whatever, your car will be ready in 20. you can take your money and get the hell out.”

and she stormed off with a slam of the back door.

…..

oh my god?

…

you want her even more now!

#ellie williams blurb #ellie x fem reader #richsnob!oc #ellie williams smut #lesbian #ellie williams #mechanic!ellie ˚. ᵎᵎ

421 notes · View notes

sexologistdoctorsblog · 2 years

Link

Erectile dysfunction is getting common in today's world. The top reason can be our fast-paced lives. It still is a setback for a man to underperform in bed. ED, like any other sexual dysfunction, is treatable. There are a variety of erectile dysfunction treatment options available. Only a good sexologist can recommend and execute the best treatment plan. See a specialist at Dr. Arora Men's Wellness Clinic for the best advice.

#Erectile dysfunction treatment options #Ed treatment in India #erectile dysfunction specialist #Erectile Dysfunction in Men #What is Erectile Dysfunction #erectile dysfunction doctor #erectile dysfunction #ed treatment clinics #Sex Doctor online Consultation #best sexologist near me

1 note · View note

summercourtship · 15 days

Note

78. "Don't fucking touch what is not yours"

Jonathan finds out Eddie and reader had sex and decides to arrive conveniently when Eddie is at the apartment, forcing him to hide while Jonathan fucks the reader (knowing Eddie is there and saying stuff to rile him up)

Oh yeah, that’s the good stuff. Reminds me a bit of a dream sequence idea I had for earlier in the fic where Edward fucks the reader while Jonathan watches but its like… clinical. IDK, there's a reason it didn’t get used, it’s not a good idea. The ideas you have while ovulating are not always the best in the long run. this one was... interesting to write lmao. i don't think it's particularly in character but i also am incapable of writing truly perverted stuff (maybe one day i'll do it.... i have the ideas and then when i go to write them they become so sanitized lmao)

warnings: possessive behavior, voyeurism/exhibitionism, not super explicit, minimal proofreading lmao | word count: 850

A knock at her door spurred Edward into motion. Even if it was just a delivery person, he didn’t want to risk being seen and quickly slipped into her bedroom while she somewhat flailed about trying to figure out what to do (it was endearing, at least). He shut the bedroom door carefully, not wanting to make any noise that would alert anyone to his presence. Then, slowly, he pressed his ear to the door, listening and waiting.

Sometime between when he had left the couch and shut the door behind him, she had answered the front door. He could barely make out her voice, though it seemed tense- whether that was because she was anxious about someone finding Edward or because of who was on the other side of the door, he was unsure. A lower and softer voice answered her before becoming louder- she had let whoever it was into the apartment, which was enough to clue Edward in to who had showed up unannounced.

He listened to them talk, straining his ears as he was unable to make out what they were saying. Then footsteps started to approach down the hall and Edward was once again forced to move, scrambling to the only option available- the small closet in the corner of her room. The door had just snapped shut when the bedroom door opened and Jonathan Crane entered, pulling her behind him. She looked around, her eyes clearly searching the room for Edward before focusing back on Jonathan before the latter became suspicious of her distraction.

Jonathan took her by the arm and pushed her onto the bed, and Edward was suddenly very grateful that he hadn’t opted to hide underneath it.

He would like to say that he kept his eyes shut, that he willed himself to ignore everything that was happening just a few feet away from him. And he did close his eyes for what felt like an eternity as he listened to the sounds of Jonathan kissing her, to the rustle of clothing being removed, to the noises he knew she was biting back for his sake.

The sounds by themselves would have been enough to arouse him, but knowing that the whimpers and half-muffled moans were coming from her was enough to send him imagination reeling, which in turn created a fairly obvious problem in his pants that he wouldn’t be able to deal with discreetly anytime soon. Any attempts to will himself into an unaroused state failed, her near constant sighs enough to keep his blood pumping.

When he finally gave in to himself and opened his eyes again, he could see her through the slats of the closet door, laying on her bed, shirtless with her breasts on full display. Jonathan was perched over her body, holding her arms above her head as he kissed her hungrily. Edward watched, trying not to focus on the way her hips ground up against Jonathan’s thigh, nestled between her legs.

Her eyes slid to the closet door, heavy and unreadable. He wondered if she could feel his eye contact, burning a hole in the wood. Then, as if realizing that she was looking at the closet for too long, she quickly returned her attention to the other man. But it was enough, and Crane slowly turned his head to look at the closed door. His pupils were blown, his face flushed, and his hair wild.

It was silent for a moment until Crane tilted his head to the side.

“Are you going to watch me fuck her, Nashton?”

Edward was very still. Jonathan didn’t look away, still looking back at the closet door with an unreadable expression. As he continued speaking, he began to run his hands down her torso.

“Are you going to watch me take what’s mine? Because she is mine, and you know that.” Jonathan’s hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs swiping over her nipples. All Edward could think about was how his hands had been in that same position not an hour ago. “You’re just going to stand there and watch me fuck her until she can’t even remember who you are, until all she knows is my-” he pinched her nipples between his fingers then, her back arching slightly as she stuttered out a gasp- “cock.”

He continued down her body, his hands resting on her underwear.

“Or at least until you learn that you don’t fucking touch what’s not yours.” Crane’s voice was low, the words a warning. Then, he yanked her underwear down her legs, leaving her completely naked to both his and Edward’s stares.

“You belong to me.” Jonathan had leaned down to hiss in her ear, but Edward heard it clearly and knew it was for the both of them. A warning, a reminder.

But then Edward thought of her last night. Legs around him, riding him like he held the key to her salvation. Her eyes, looking into him with an intensity he only saw in himself when he decided to watch back his own videos. Her mouth, hot and wanting, willing and accepting.

Last night, he thinks when her eyes slide over to the closet again, she belonged to him.

#stay to burn anniversary event #stbotdi #jonathan crane x reader #edward nashton x reader #my writing #my fic #request

31 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 5 months

Text

Five Fics Friday: January 12/24

Happy Friday everyone!! I hope you had a wonderful week, and are ready to enjoy some more fic recs to get you started on the weekend! Enjoy!!

RECENTLY BOOKMARKED

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Pre-TRF Relationship, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction, Reunion, Nightmares, Angry John, Cybernetic John, Emotional Discussions / Heart to Heart, POV John, Scars, Past Drug Use, Forehead Touching, Emotional Lovemaking, Kissing, Apologies, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission, BAMF John, Bed Sharing, Top Sherlock) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity

Fade To Black by twistedthicket1 (M, 93,389 w., 29 Ch. || Split Personality Disorder / DID, Action, Romance, Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Fluff and Angst, Baskerville, Human Experimentation, PTSD, Implied Self Harm, Trauma Amnesia, Past Child Sexual Abuse, Protective Sherlock, Smoking, Meddling Mycroft, Past Victor/Sherlock, Gay Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss/Time) – John Watson believes one day he'll just fade. That he'll drown in the black spaces of his mind, and that one day he will no longer exist. It's always been like this, the dark spots marking out moments in his life he can't remember. Where for just a moment he's someone else. Having a Dissociative identity disorder, he can't even be entirely sure he's really who he says he is. Then he meets Sherlock Holmes. A brilliant detective who when he looks at you can read your entire life story. John is immediately fascinated and afraid, half-wondering if maybe Sherlock can see the other personalities in him and half terrified of the thought of him finding out. Becoming his flatmate seems at once to be a wonderful and horrible idea. Yet as John's Blackouts become more and more severe and his other personalities begin to truly awaken and show themselves with Sherlock's help, the two soon discover that sometimes even the kindest person can harbour a demon best left untouched inside of them. Because not all of John's other personalities play nicely and some may be hiding secrets best left undisturbed...

MARKED FOR LATER

Hand Me the Salt, Love? by topsyturvy_turtely (G, 554 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Pet Names, Flustered Sherlock, Cooking, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff Without Plot) – John is cooking. Sherlock is not helping. Until...

Locked Room by Calais_Reno (T, 8,346 w., 2 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting AU || Pool Scene, Mystery, Near Death Experience, Drug Addiction, Serious Injuries, Temporary Amnesia, POV Alternating, Love Confessions, Happy Ending) – John wakes up in a locked room, unable to remember how he got here. The last thing he remembers is his hands covered in blood, trying to keep a soldier from dying. His roommate also seems to be suffering from amnesia, and has decided that John is a delusion. Part 33 of Just Johnlock

Walk of Shame by 72reasons (E, 14,355+ w., 9/? Ch. || WiP || Alternate First Meeting AU || Meet-Ugly, Bisexual John, Gay Sherlock, Alternating POV, Sad John, Suicidal Thoughts, Casual Sex, Strangers to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Threesome, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex) – John is just back from the war and wanders the city wondering what he’s going to do. One of his distractions is having casual sex with a beautiful, but annoying, woman. Sherlock usually refrains from sex, but in trying to stay sober he indulges in it now and again. Sherlock meets John on the street and sparks fly. Casual sex is one thing, but what about something more?

#five fics friday #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs

58 notes · View notes

cha-melodius · 10 months

Note

Firstprince, and look don’t ask me why this is what my brain came up with but: meetcute at the STI clinic

(OMG, I love your brain so much. This made me cackle and immediately start writing it. Thanks so much, hope you enjoy!)

chamel's fandom fest info | read all the fics

Getting Clinical

(firstprince, 2k, T; read it below or on AO3)

Alex has to admit that the very last thing that he expected to get upon coming out to his mother was an appointment made in his name at an LGBTQ+ focused sexual health clinic near his apartment. Really, he should have known better, given the PowerPoints that resulted from said coming out, but still. He’s a grown-ass man with a career. He lives on his own in a city in which she does not live. He can take care of himself.

He still goes to the appointment when he gets back to New York. It’s already made, after all, and it’s been a while since he was tested. Since he’s had any sexual partners, in point of fact; he’s been more or less a hermit for the past couple of years, throwing himself into his work and only letting Nora and June drag him out on rare occasion. The whole bisexual revelation had been a slow thing, born of the unexpected feelings evoked in him when one of the senior partners at his law firm came out as gay, in combination with finding himself staring a little too long at the shirtless male leads when he’d put on The Mummy or Indiana Jones on in the background while working late nights at home. He hasn’t actually acted on any of this newfound knowledge save for flirting a bit with the barista at the coffee shop in his building.

He’s gonna, though. He’s determined to get out there and meet someone. A number of someones, maybe—why not have some fun while he’s discovering a bit more about himself? Explore what’s out there. So it makes sense to just go when he gets the email from his mom with a screenshot of the appointment confirmation.

“I wonder if anyone’s done a comparative study of these lubes,” Nora says, too loudly, from where she sits beside him inspecting a selection of samples that she’s collected from a display in the waiting room. More than one person waiting nearby looks over at them, and Alex sinks a little deeper into his chair.

“Ugh, why are you here again?”

“For the moral support,” she chirps with too much glee. “Not like I have any need to be tested right now. Although, June and I did meet this very intriguing guy—”

“All right, enough of that,” he interrupts sharply before she can say any more about her and his sister’s sex life. He already knows far too much about it as it is. “No one asked you to come.”

Nora tips her head at him. “Not in so many words, no. But if I had to listen to one more minute of you hemming and hawing about whether you could make the appointment or whether this was the ‘right place for you’”—she adds the air quotes, annoyingly—“I was gonna start breaking things.” Something softens in her expression, then. “You do belong in these spaces, you know.”

“I know,” he mutters, staring down into his lap. He’s even getting better at believing it.

At that, Nora returns to her lube investigation, and Alex rage-reads some twitter threads until someone steps up to the empty chair next to him and says in a mellifluous British accent, “Pardon me, is this seat taken?”

The waiting room is not that crowded, so Alex doesn’t know why this guy needs to sit directly next to him. He’s in the middle of trying to figure out a polite way to convey this when he finally looks up and right into what he’s pretty sure are the bluest pair of eyes on the planet. Jesus fuck, this man might be the most attractive person he’s ever laid eyes on in person. He doesn’t actually seem like he could be real, but he’s here, looking hopefully at Alex like he wants to be next to him, which is, let’s just say, intriguing—

“It’s only— there’s an outlet on the wall here, and my phone is dying,” Blue Eyes says with an apologetic smile.

Right. So, not particularly interested in sitting next to Alex, then. And that’s definitely not a hollow feeling of disappointment settling into his stomach.

“Yeah, no problem, man,” Alex says, trying to school his expression into something appropriate for conversing with strangers. “It’s all yours.”

Blue Eyes thanks him and takes the seat as he reaches into his bag to pull out a phone cord. The thing is, the outlet is kind of under the chairs and between the two of them, which necessitates some twisting and bending as he tries to blindly reach for it. That definitely doesn’t seem to be working, though, so Alex ends up twisting in his chair too to try to see if he can help.

“A little lower, I think—”

“Oh, thank you, I just can’t quite feel—”

“Fuck, you’re too far now— look, you need to shift to the right, yeah, there—”

“Ah, there it goes,” Blue Eyes murmurs with a pleased hum that brings to mind a very different setting than the one they’re currently in.

This seems to occur to Blue Eyes at the same time as it does Alex, which is approximately when they both look up and realize that their faces have ended up quite close together. Blue Eyes’ cheeks are rapidly turning a lurid pink; Alex quickly replays their previous exchange in his head and yeah, fuck. Suggestive doesn’t seem to begin to cover it. Slowly, Blue Eyes straightens, his posture stiff and eyes fixed on the floor in front of him.

“Er, thank you,” he coughs.

“Don’t mention it,” Alex mumbles in response.

A strained silence settles over them that’s somehow heavier than your usual odd-encounter-with-a-stranger awkwardness. At some point during this encounter, Nora had disappeared to god knows where, so Alex doesn’t even have her company to fall back on. He scrolls on his phone without actually reading anything on it, half hoping one of them will be called into the doctor and half dreading it. Next to him, Blue Eyes is typing furiously with his thumbs.

Alex shouldn’t interrupt him. Just… mind his own business. That would be the reasonable thing to do.

Oh well.

“So, come here often?” he tries to joke, only to realize too late the implications behind asking such a question in a sexual health clinic. He grimaces, hard. “Fuck, I didn’t mean— you don’t have to answer that. I was just— trying to make it not awkward.”

To his relief, Blue Eyes just looks amused. “And made it exceedingly awkward instead?” he replies with a tiny smirk tilting his perfect mouth. There’s a mole right next to the corner of it that Alex would very much like to bite. “I do visit regularly, in fact,” he continues after a moment. “I consider my and my partners’ sexual health to be very important.”

Fuck, that just makes him hotter, which shouldn’t be physically possible. “Lucky person,” Alex hears himself say. “Your partner.”

“Oh, I, uh,” Blue Eyes stammers slightly. “I’m not dating anyone. Currently, that is. I’m just getting out of a relationship, actually.”

“Sorry,” Alex winces.

“Don’t be,” he replies lightly, a flickering smile on his lips. “I’m well shot of him. Anyway, it’s been long enough. Thought I should get back out there.”

“Oh,” Alex says. That’s a good sign, right? Alex could just ask him out. They could have fun if nothing else. That’s all he’s looking for right now. And he’s good at picking people—women, anyway—up. Or was, historically. He just needs to… say something charming. “Well, good luck, then.”

Not that.

He’s really, really hoping he’s not misreading the look of resignation that flickers across Blue Eyes’ face. Before Alex can figure out how to make his big mouth say something useful, though, Blue Eyes’ gaze flickers up behind him. “Ah, your partner’s returned.”

Alex glances back long enough to see Nora flopping down into the chair next to him with more lube samples. “Oh, she’s not my—”

“Alex?” a nurse calls from the other side of the waiting room, leaving him little other choice but to get up and follow her. Blue Eyes shoots him a tight smile and a tiny nod of acknowledgement that they’re probably never going to see each other again before Alex turns and starts walking away.

He’s halfway through the door to the exam rooms when he glances back to see Blue Eyes still watching him, which is frankly more than he can take.

“Sorry, just— forgot something,” he says to the nurse before all but sprinting back to his chair. He plucks Blue Eyes’ phone right out of his slack grip, opens a new contact page, and types in his number. Then, as if he’s in some kind of fever dream, he actually says, “Let me know when you get your results,” and winks.

Alex hurries off again before the nurse can call after him, leaving one extremely stunned Brit in his wake.

~~~~

A week later, Alex’s test results from the clinic show up in his inbox. He’s clean, of course, no surprises there, but the visit itself had been worthwhile—he’d found himself talking to the doctor about aspects related to his health and wellness that went beyond what he might encounter now that he’d be branching out, so to speak—so all in all, not a waste of time.

His phone stays silent, though.

Of course it was always a long shot. That doesn’t change the bitter taste of disappointment on his tongue that not even his endless cups of coffee can cover up. He gets the results on a Friday and lets himself be dragged out to a club on Saturday night to ‘celebrate’, though he ends up politely rebuffing the advances of everyone who hits on him. Nora gives him a look after the third one—a tall, gorgeous brunet with a jaw chiseled out of marble and blue eyes that do give him a half a second of pause—but he shrugs her off.

On Monday morning, he’s in the middle of a conference with a partner and a client when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He assumes it’s Nora or June, so he nearly drops the damned thing on the floor when he finally gets out and swipes open to see a screenshot of an email that looks suspiciously familiar. There’s one key difference, though: under ‘name’ at the top, the text says Henry Fox-Mountchristen.

The screenshot has been sent without comment or followup, just a dry, clinical report, and somehow it’s still one of the sexiest texts he’s ever gotten. Fuck, he’s at work.

Which is exactly what he sends back to Henry. (Henry, he thinks, mulling over the name. It suits him. Alex would very much like to taste it, pressed into his skin.)

Apologies, but you did ask to be informed.

Am I to assume this was an academic interest, or…?

nothing academic about what i want to do to you, sweetheart

Right, then. Jolly good. Are you free this weekend?

Alex wants to say he’s free tonight, actually, so they can put those results to good use, but halfway through writing his reply, he stops. Yes, he wants Henry in his bed, but he also doesn’t want Henry to think he’s only interested in sex. Which is exactly the opposite of what he told himself he was going to do when he started exploring his bisexuality. He shouldn’t be looking for a relationship, and there’s no guarantee Henry is interested in one either. Maybe he’s just busy until then.

Alex thinks another moment, then sends back: what did you have in mind?

~~~~~

(Henry takes him on a date date, all romantic candlelit dinner with a single red rose and a walk in Central Park afterward with their fingers tangled together. And when he finally leans in to kiss Alex, it’s soft and sweet and Alex feels it down to his fucking toes. So, like. That’s a whole thing.

Turns out that they do make good use of their test results that night, thoroughly. And again, the next morning in the shower. And again and again, until they each get a reminder email from the clinic that it’s time for a regular screening.

Which they each promptly delete.)

#firstprince #rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fic #firstprince fanfic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #chamel's fandom fest #my fic

102 notes · View notes

stxrshxpxd · 7 months

Text

“that’s my girl!” part 4

masterlist

pairing: dr house x reader

word count: 1k

prompt: it seems house can’t go very long without getting his hands on the reader and she is starting to wonder what’s going on between them

“This looks like a mild case of mono to me,” I said with a warm smile to ease the worry of my patient. I dropped my hands from the swollen lymph nodes in his neck and pulled my rubber gloves off as I wheeled my chair away from him. I went to speak again but was interrupted by the door swinging open. I turned around quickly to find House leaning against the door frame.

“I need you,” he said.

“I’m busy.”

I turned back around to face my patient, but House refused to leave of course.

“Sore throat? Pulled muscle? Scraped knee?” he asked belittling.

“House.”

“I need you,” he echoed.

“You said.”

“Emergency consult.”

I took a deep breath which I sighed out, and decided to quickly finish up with my patient. I knew there was no consult but I also knew he wouldn’t ever back down.

“The symptoms should be going away on their own in a few weeks. Just make sure to get as much rest as you can and drink lots of water. But if you’re not getting better by the end of next week, don’t hesitate to call. Thank you for coming in. Now, excuse me, I have to assist Dr House here.”

At last House got what he wanted when I followed him out into the hall and walked with him.

“Are you asking patients to call you now? That’s a bit desperate. I didn’t think he would be your type.”

“You’re exhausting,” I breathed.

“See, I thought your type was a bit more intelligent and charming. Maybe with a limp-”

“You obviously don’t need me for a consult,” I cut him off, trying to get to the bottom of what he wanted from me, while I still walked with him down the hall.

“Now if I so obviously don’t need you for a consult, why did you follow me?”

“I would much rather just aimlessly walk with you than do my interesting, fulfilling job,” I said sarcastically.

“It’s funny how you’re using that silly tone while telling the truth,” House said and steered us to my right. I rolled my eyes excessively but couldn’t think of what to say. House smirked at me.

“My patient,” House began again and opened the door to the next exam room, back first. “25 year old female, bratty, hot for her boss and in denial. What would you say that is? Daddy issues?”

“I have actual patients waiting in the clinic,” I informed him and went to turn around but House caught my waist with his large hand and kept me from moving.

“I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want my hands on you,” he muttered with a gleam in his eye and head tilted as he stared me down. My heart was beating hard and I flexed my jaw, staring back up at him. He took my lack of a response as a yes and pulled my waist towards him and into the room.

Next thing I knew I was backed against the closed door with House’s tongue exploring my mouth and his hands under my shirt. He cupped my breasts in his palms and I exhaled a soft moan, which was cut short by the three hard knocks near the back of my head. House breathed out a frustrated sigh and kept his forehead against mine and our lips just barely touching.

“Unless L/N’s got a runny nose, this is not a medical exam. Quit hogging the exam room and do your job, House,” Cuddy’s strong voice broke through the door and I chuckled at her putting all the blame on House. But he didn’t smile. He kissed me again. It was softer this time and it felt odd, me having been pulled out of that lustful surge by Cuddy’s knocking. When House pulled away again I blinked back at him a few times, trying to determine what was going on between us. That vulnerability I had felt radiating off of him the other day after sex was back.

“What is this?” I asked finally.

“Oh, here we go,” House responded with mock annoyance at my need for emotional clarity and rolled his eyes, building his walls up again. I laughed breathily.

“Falling in love isn't a weakness, you know,” I said to his back which had turned to face me now.

“Falling sounds like a weakness to me,” he joked back and I noticed he wasn’t denying the love part. But he was deflecting. I squinted my eyes at him as he turned back around.

“Fine. Write me a poem about rising into love and we’ll take it from there.”

I left House like how he had left me so many times before. With a witty end to our conversation, patting his chest and turning my heel without looking back. I thought I would feel on top of the world but I had to take a moment when I stepped out of the exam room and I listened closely to the silence from inside. I felt oddly guilty for my snarking at him, but I forced myself to walk on.

#house #dr house #gregory house #imagine #fic #dr house x reader

91 notes · View notes

goobieboobie · 8 months

Text

ultraviolence 0.1

| 70s pornstar! joel miller x preachers daughter! reader

Your prayers aren't enough to keep big, bad Joel away...

Warnings (for this chap!): abortion references and allusions, child/domestic abuse, prostitution allusions, kind of dubcon allusions (reader is misled by Jeremiah abt getting pregnant???), mentions of guns, young reader (roughly 19-20), barely legal sex work (person referenced is a senior is highschool, she's 18 but not explicitly stated), extreme dubcon for sex work (reader rlly doesn't want to do it, but is convinced), creepy scary man MDNI!!

“How’d you end up here, baby?”

You’d been asked the question about a hundred times a day since you arrived in LA, church dress tattered and knee-high socks torn. Carmen had taken you in, dragging you away from the bus stop the second you’d stepped foot off of the Grey Rabbit, exhausted from a night-long drive from Texas.

She picked you up after her shift on the street corner, so delirious from her night that she thought she’d imagined you. “You looked straight outta the gospel, kid, thought you might be my guardian angel.”

She turned out to be more of a guardian angel to you than anything else, setting you up in her overcrowded three-bedroom near Venice. Even though you’d had to share a bed with her for the first weeks of your arrival, you were happy to not be destitute.

She was the first one to ask the question, her roommate, Laura, a high school senior only a year or two younger than you, right by her side. “So, how’d you end up here, honey?” Carmen had a sugary sweet Southern lilt to her voice, different from the rural Texan accent you’d developed over the years.

You’d rehashed the night of your escape to her and Laura, from getting caught with Jeremiah in the barn to running barefoot to the cross-country bus station three miles away from the farm, lantern guiding your path.

“Dontcha think California’s a bit overkill? What is it, two thousand miles away from yer Daddy?” Carmen clearly didn’t understand the will her father possessed. He would tear apart every town within a thousand miles to find his wayward daughter, to save the child in her womb.

It had happened weeks ago, the life inside you was probably only the size of a pea; that didn’t matter to Daddy. It wasn’t easy to get condoms in a small town like yours, and even harder to get your pediatrician (an avid member of your church) to prescribe you birth control. Jeremiah had insisted it was fine, there was no risk of getting pregnant your first time, the odds were against you.

Daddy had found out the night you left, so angry he shook your body around like a ragdoll and slapped you around the living room in front of your sisters and mother. He had already chased Jeremiah away, shotgun in hand, your pleas of “But Daddy, I love him!” falling on deaf ears.

You cried and cried while he asked you to give him one good reason to not chase him down and shoot him dead. You had panicked, shouted that you were pregnant, needed him to help you raise the baby, but that had just spurred him on, made him angrier.

He was so blind with rage, yelling like a drunkard, that you managed to make it out through the front door, running nimbly through the dark woods near the house before he could catch up.

Carmen took you to the clinic the next morning, holding your hand as you walked past the bus stop from the morning before.“Poor lil’ thing, can’t go raisin’ a baby when yer just one yerself.”

You cried in the waiting room, cried in the doctor’s office, cried as it happened, cried when it was done and over with. You only stopped when the doctor asked that damned question.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he pushed his glasses up his crooked nose, you imagined it was bent from a punch years ago, maybe a patient with more gut than you, “How’d you end up here?”

When you walked back to the house, legs achy and stomach twisting, Carmen stopped you in the middle of the sidewalk, putting her hands down hard on your shoulders, making you look up at her. “Don’t answer to nosy assholes like him.” She took her hands off of you. “Ever.” She sniffed. “You don’t owe ‘em shit.”

Two weeks into your stay, Laura set up a meeting with a friend of hers to talk about a job he had for you. It was already cramped in the little house, there were five other girls staying in the other rooms, even worse in the room you were staying in.

“I don’t know what kinda job he’s got for me, he ain’t even met me yet. Don’t know a thing about me.” Laura made sure to dress you up real nice for the meeting, styling you in the best of Carmen’s clothes, the more scandalous ones you hadn’t been stealing from her closet.

“Don’t you worry about it, doll.” She stuck out her tongue in concentration as she fixed your hair. “Harry’s not bad, you’ll get used to him. He’ll be totally into your whole farmer’s daughter thing.”

“Not a farmer’s daughter.” You grumbled back, annoyed at the prospect of meeting this Harry. Anyone who wanted to meet this late at night was surely up to no good.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Laura walked you down to the club you were meeting at, skipping the line and heading right to the bouncer. He took one look at you and the young girl next to you and lifted the velvet rope. Laura squealed at you.

Harry was easy to pick out in a crowd. He looked sleazy, like the type of guy to make wayward deals with newly legal girls. He wore gold aviators, despite the night around you and the darkness of the club. He took them off when he saw Laura, his eyes were distinctly red.

“My little Laura Lee!” He exclaimed when he saw her, reaching his arms out to pull her down on his lap and plant a deep kiss on her lips. You could see his tongue move into her mouth.

“You must be the sweet kid little Laurie was tellin’ me about.” He smiled at you, pulled you close. You could smell the liquor on his break, could see the white on his nose.

“Oh, she’s real good, Harry!” Laura hung on his arm, looking deep in his eyes. He wasn’t looking at her; he was sizing you up.

“Could lean into that whole innocence thing, I guess. If that’s your cuppa tea.” His eyes raked down your body, lingering at the short hem of Carmen’s white dress, one of her only semi-modest pieces. “You a virgin, babydoll?”

Your face heated, so angry you’re sure your ears were turning red. You stuttered at him for a second before Laura took over. “Don’t be silly, Harry! You think I’d bring you some blushing virgin?” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “She’s got loads of experience!”

“I don’t know, Laur, some’ll pay a pretty penny for an untouched one.” He took your’s and Laura’s arms, dragging you to the booth he was previously sat at.

“No, no, I didn’t bring her here to work a corner like me and Carm! She’s nowhere near ready for that typa shit!” Laura burst into a fit of giggles. “I thought you could help her out like you did Meg, maybe produce some for her, get her in with the directors, y’know.” Harry weighed his options.

“I dunno know, Laurie…”

“What the hell is goin’ on.” You gained sense of yourself again, tired of being talked about but not talked to. You should’ve laid Harry out for the question he asked you before, wished you did like Carmen had told you. You were still thinking about doing it.

Harry looked at your face for the first time that evening, eyes focused on yours, not anywhere else, even as he asked Laura, “Did you tell her? You naughty little thing…”

Maybe you were wrong, maybe the being talked about was worse than the talked to. Staring into his eyes felt like staring into a bottomless pit, felt like you were looking the Devil right in the face.

“Well, damn! I thought you figured it out! Didn’t know I needed to spell it out for a smarty pants like you!” Laura giggled again. You were getting real tired of that.

Harry spoke up for her. “It’s porn, honey.” You blinked at him, sputtered again. “No big deal. Won’t make you do nothin’ crazy.” He winked. “Not yet, at least.”

“I-I don’t, I’m not that kinda- Who would even-”

“Honey, you don’t gotta do it if you don’t wanna. Nobody’s makin’ you do nothin’.” He leaned forward on the table between y’all, forearms on the sticky wood soaked from past drunks. “It would be a real shame if you said no, though. After all the work little Laura went through to set this up for you. Betcha could make it real big too.” He scooted around the edge of the booth, saddled himself up next to you.

“You’re real pretty, y’know. Bet a lotta people would want to see you like that. I know I would.” He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear and leaned close to you. “Wouldn’t have to put Laura and Carm out any more, could get a place of your own. ‘M sure you’d be famous, you’d be a star.” His words were sounding more and more like gospel; the ideas he was laying out made your head spin.

“Really, I’m not that kinda girl. I’m a Christian.”

He groaned loud in your ear, knocking his head back in frustration. “Aren’t we all?” He grabbed the back of your neck, forcing your face centimeters away from his. You could see the cap in his front tooth. “Baby, you want this. I know you do, otherwise why would you have come. You knew all along what this meeting was for, even if you don’t think you did.” “I-I really didn’t-”

“Yes, you did. Subconsciously, you knew that the only reason I would meet a shy little thing like you was for somethin’ like this. Especially given the crowd you’ve taken to.” Maybe he was right, you knew that there would be some kind of bad business at this kinda place, this late at night.

Your eyes met Laura’s, almost having forgotten she was there. She had a big, bright smile on her face. She had taken you in off the street, had given you everything she had. She wouldn’t lead you astray.

“So,” Harry started, turning your gaze back to his, “Will you do me the honors of representin’ you. I would love to have your name attached to mine.” You nodded your head, earning a yellowed smile from the man in front of you. “But, I have some questions, some things I need to know before-” “We’ll get to that babydoll, just let me worry about all that.” He leaned back, put his arms around you and Laura. “Now, tell me, how’d you end up here, baby?”

A/N: promise we'll meet joel in next chap i'm just trying to lay the groundwork!!!! also if anyone is interested in me sharing the playlist pls lemme know i'll do it i've been listening to it to inspire me!!! also this is not beta read, if anyone would like to beta read for me i would be so honored and grateful bless it

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #f!reader #fanfic #tlou au #pornstar!joel

75 notes · View notes

winkliee · 9 months

Text

therapy

shinobu x reader

warnings: cunninglus, fingerfucking, semi-public sex, mentions of depression, love confession, dom shinobu

dividers by @/cafekitsune

after your breakup with your toxic boyfriend, you had sunk into such deep depression, that if you friend didn't find you and slap the sense into you that day, you wouldn't have been alive to see today. she gave you a contact of a psychiatrist, dr. shinobu kocho, and after a lot of pestering could finally send you there.

it's been six months of you visiting her, and even though you didn't need therapy anymore after having recovered almost completely, you still paid regular visits. you didn't really care about the amount of money you were spending, but shinobu was kind enough to not charge you anymore, since now you two have become really good friends.

but for you, she had become someone even more special.

it had become difficult to go even one day without her, you needed to see her pretty face and the genuine smile she gave you, while fluttering her naturally long eyelashes.

before long, you knew you had hopelessly fallen for her.

"but it's not like she likes me," you would think to yourself, "i'm damn sure a pretty girl like her must have a partner."

you thought about it for a long time, and finally decided to confess your feelings today. if she doesn't like you, you will continue as being friends. you packed her favorite flowers, and off you left for her clinic, both anxiety and excitement clutching at your heart.

but you never thought that the love confession, which turned out to be mutual, would escalate into this.

right now, you were sprawled on shinobu's table, legs wide open, as shinobu ate you from behind, while you tried your best to lower your moans.

"pretty please," she said with her honey sweet voice, "do you want others to hear us?"

you clasped your hand over your mouth anxiously, knowing well that there were other patients waiting outside for checkup too. tears stung your eyes as you closed them, letting yourself drown in pleasure.

"did your ex ever pleasure you like this baby?" your eyes went wide how shinobu was speaking and eating your out now, as if her sweet behaviour is a complete facade. "i bet he couldn't even come near to what i am doing," she said, inserting two fingers in you at once, making you squirm and moan out quite loud.

"ah ah, darling, there we go," she whispered sweetly from behind as you came down from your high, almost falling asleep from such an intense orgasm, as she licked you clean, before kissing your inner thigh.

"we might as well get used to this, shouldn't we?"

thank you for reading. likes and reblogs are appreciated.

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny smut #demon slayer #shinobu kocho #kocho shinobu #shinobu smut #kocho smut #kny shinobu #shinobu kocho smut #fem reader #kocho shinobu smut #smut #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut

123 notes · View notes

spacelazarwolf · 10 months

Note

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!

#ask avishai

63 notes · View notes