im so ready to not have boobs tho top surgery is definitely something i want whether im ftm or not…..even if im genderqueer get them a w a y

even if being shirtless w boobs was “socially acceptable” they dont feel right on my body…..i’ve never liked them and always expressed my desire for “smaller” ones or that they were detachable (and never to be attached again lmao) 

Love is arguably the most mystifying
experience a human being can have.
I cannot comprehend why, when you touch me, control evaporates completely from my limbs, and there is no place to hide, or walls to put up, or a guard with which to shield what I have spent my entire life carefully tucking away.
Shudders quivering through my body strike the composure I struggle ceaselessly to maintain, cries of need and pleasure explode against my compromised will, clawing hands leave marks up and down your rigid spine and solid arms, and I blindly leave my mark. And I know that you will never forget the way I tremble in response to you. I know it haunts you well, pleasantly, shooting straight up your legs.
But the sight of you! You are a vision of breathless desire that torments my body, electrifying my nervous system, shocking and stimulating me all the way down to the core, a place no one has ever been or touched. You, with your solemn eyes turning dark with need, golden skin glinting in the dim light, midnight hair right within my reach as a lifeline, you with the power to turn my fine into feral, you drive me wild with pure animal lust. The effect
of your fingertips, ferocious. Your body heat radiating, every atom in me burns.
Oh, should Heaven forbid this, and I am forced to return to the apathy that has always sheltered my emotions, I will tear out my own lungs and, with an unwavering smile, throw them as bones to the devil’s hellhounds. For an existence here without you, the possession and fixation without which I cannot survive, that is surely an existence in which breathing is an excruciatingly painful act. That is surely an existence determined to shatter, to torture.
I have been confined for centuries.
Let me come undone.
—  Kayla Kathawa
Prison Hearts Part 1

Bucky x Reader

Warning(s): Mild cursing, mention of kidnapping, and some feeling of anxiety. 

A/N: I decided to start this series over as I wasn’t really please with how the other one turned out. However, if you wish, you can read the original two part series here. Also, feedback is always welcome! Xxx. :)

My mind feels faint as sleep desperately desires to consume my body, but the air is too cold and I feel a sense of hostility within. In actuality, feeling cold and hostility is normal. However, there’s something different, something unwelcoming about this environment. Maybe it’s the harsh words I hear over in the corner of the room, or maybe it’s the cold metal I feel holding my wrists and ankles.

As if that will actually hold me, you idiots. 

Keep reading

book excerpt

It’s called pre-eclampsia, a condition where the body of the mother can’t stand the stress of hosting the body of the child. Every fear I had about being a mother was multipled by a constant exponent: My body was rejecting motherhood. Despite my basic desire to have a baby, every cell in my body was working together to tell me no. Still, I refused to listen.

In ICU, the doctor tried to walk a fine line between what was best for my baby and what was best for me. The only cure for preeclampsia is to not be pregnant anymore. But Sam needed more time - his lungs were as flimsy as plastic shopping bags and he didn’t weigh enough. I told the doctors to keep drugging me and keep Sam in as long as possible. I was ready to die for him, as long as it meant he would live. 

This was information I kept a secret, willing it only to myself and Sam. If I said it to David or the doctors, they would be concerned and try to deliver Sam before he was ready. So I whispered it to Sam in the dark, giving him my messages of love and courage through the blood in our bodies. I imagined my cells moving from my body to his, taking the parts of me that could not survive motherhood and making his body strong with it. Sam was my butterfly, and he would survive even if it meant shedding my broken body once he had grown past needing me as a chrysalis.


My body is not meant for you to strip bare and redress with metaphors. My body is not meant for you period. My consent is not sexy it is my basic right do not touch me if I say no. I’ve read that only seven percent of  interaction between you and I is from our words, so even if you’re deaf you should still get my message. Fifty five percent is body language and thirty eight is tone of voice so maybe this is why your catcalls don’t flatter me. I will not take words that are barked at me from street shadows out of the mouths of men I do not know as a testament to my beauty. Fuck you, I know I’m beautiful. Fuck you, I also know that your desire to touch my body does not overrun my desire for you to leave me the hell alone. Do not touch me unless I let you. Implied consent only applies to saving lives of distressed children at swimming pools, and even then you have to ask twice or you will be held liable in a court of law. Implied consent does not work for sex. Intoxication is not validation. Unconsciousness is not consent. You cannot ask twice then do what you want after “not understanding” that my response was no. You cannot keep asking—keep flirting—keep touching, my response is still no. And if you try to say that “the friend zone is the worst thing to happen to men since tube tops and mini skirts went out of style” I will tell you that rape is the worst thing to happen to women since Adam and Eve, since invaded adolescence, since child prostitution, since adult predators, since ‘he said he loved me.“ Girls do not deserve to have their innocence robbed from them. The female body does not deserve to be violated by unworthy hands.


Fexibily is getting there, slowly but surely. In class today I was thinking about how far I’ve come in the past 2 years. I began taking ballet 2 years ago and began seriously pursuing dance for about a year now. In that year I began pointe, became solid on my double pirouettes and grand jetès, and almost gotten my fouettes. I’ve taken class with many contemporary dancers whom I admire greatly. I’ve delved into contemporary and ballet partnering, as well as contact improv. I have learned so much about my body and my mind, my fears and desires, as well as my presence and performance. 2 years ago I never would’ve thought I’d be able to do what I can today, and that makes me so excited for the next 3 years. I’m sure these drama school years will bring great challenges that will only help me grow. I can’t wait to see how I’ll improve each year, and how I will eventually be presenting myself to the professional world. At this point, I think I’ve proven to myself that I can do it. I can become and dancer, and I will be a dancer!

anonymous asked:

I wanted to share the self-validating moment I had in case anyone else is struggling with this. I was doubting my asexuality because sometimes my body desires things that I don't. I thought "surely if my body desires it, then my mind is just confused." These physical feelings would occur when watching a sex scene, and usually Asexuals describe watching sex scenes like watching any other scene. So I felt invalid. Until I heard about autochorissexualism. Now it makes so much more sense! ❤️

kappass asked:

What inspired you to start drawing? (fetish art or otherwise)

Originally it was just something to do, I was like six. I drew cartoons and competed with other kids in school to improve my stuff. I got into comics because of American comic strips like Garfield and graphic novels like Bone or the old TMNT stuff and Sonic comics. Shortly after getting into anime I wanted to try my hand at drawing cute girls.

As I grew into my teenage years I found myself drawn to large breasted characters and liking fat girls, so naturally I wanted to emulate what I liked in my art, I can look back at my old sketches now and go “Oh I did a weight gain sequence of Bulma at like age 16″ I loved the challenge of working character designs into new shapes or in my own style, so weight gain fan art slowly became part of my style along with my desire to see more body representation in art.

By college I started drawing fat original characters and liked finding ways to do fan art in my own style, Deviant art and pawg found me and got me to do requests/commissions and the rest is history. Pretty early on stuffing/expansion/slob in cartoons really got my attention so I think I’ve been on the track that’s lead me into feederism/weight gain for a long time now!

Early inspirations were:

Dead or Alive 2’s boob physics, Akira Toriyama’s chubby cartoony 80s art, PenGindou (DoomComic)’s BBW Doujinshi, Tiny Toons Babs Bunny weight gain episode, That Luther Burger Boondocks S1 episode, Passion Patties and pretty much every chubby babe in my high school growing up.

A Wishful Desire (8/18/15)

She came to me in a dream
The kind where you temporarily fall in love.
Her devious smile made my heart scream
And my body desired with immense intensity for her to be above;
For her figure fit me like a glove.
I wanted to hear her moan between the gasps
And to see her face to get pleasure she was deprived of;
To feel her hair entangled between my fingers with a strong clasp
I craved for that intoxicating aroma that I couldn’t get enough of.
She came for me in a dream;
The kind where you temporarily fall in love.

Never was a home so horrible
Bitter bile that broke my body
Violence that scarred my soul
Her desire to control
To ravage me with her anger
Little boy in danger
And all I ever wanted
Was peace


Recovery…walk. And booty shaking too.

My body was like “…bitch, you tried it yesterday…” so I opted against my desire to run and kept my body moving. I walked for four miles, moving my arms, speeding through areas of Brooklyn and then I reached Prospect Park and got this urge to move my hips (no rhythm btw). Even moved my hips with three strangers who were on their headphones like me. We threw a few people off. Wish I got a picture of it. Had a small crowd for a minute who were trying to figure out what we were doing. Thank you Pandora Radio, #Pitbull and Crunk music that plays on this station that I started by finding songs matching Kanye West Workout Plan. Who knew?

Nevertheless, hit over 100 miles ran this month and it’s not over yet. Don’t even get me started on fitbit. Nevertheless, I have yoga to do later on to loosen up these limbs. I think I’m scheduled for an actual five mile run tomorrow. Good morning lovelies.

#justkeepmoving #runner #running #fitmom #fitnessjunkie #weightlossjourney #fitbit #fitnessjunkie #conditioning #endurance #momontherun #walking #dancing #nikenyc #nikerun #whyirun #tcsnycmarathon #marathon #marathontraining #ultramarathon #ultramarathontraining #nodaysoff #beastmode #fatrunner #runnersunitednyc #blackgirlsrun #fitness #motivation

  • <p><b></b> I need to get this off my chest.<p/><b></b> I HATE people touching me. A casual touch from someone new who doesn't know can be quickly and politely corrected.<p/><b></b> But what pisses me off is if people make a joke of it. As if my history with my body is irrelevant to your wants and your desires. IT IS MY BODY. And if your behaviour causes me to feel threatened, it is not ok.<p/><b></b> I was so unsettled yesterday I was physically sick. And yes, it was a casual touch from a person I know from work. But she KNEW and yet she REPEATEDLY TOUCHED ME EVEN AFTER I TOLD HER TO BACK UP.<p/><b></b> This is my body and I do think if persistent inappropriate touching is sexual assault, then persistent regular touching against my wishes can be classified as assault.<p/><b></b> For the rest of the day I was constantly looking over my shoulder. I was even more hyper-vigilant than usual and I came home emotionally and physically drained.<p/></p>
Day 12 Attitude

I’m mentally battling my desire for a better body with my desire for a balanced happy daily routine. It’s like I know nobody made me gain weight but myself so I’m ok accepting that but the road ahead just feels really long and my goals so far away.

Earlier today I was also not looking forward to working out. It’s probably a combination of my body just being fatigued and my lack of fitness causing me to not find working out to be fun but this created a depressing conundrum. If signing up for personal training and working out on my own and eating healthy food that tastes good isn’t enough to get me on track, then what is?

What is it going to take for me to actually follow through with this? Hopefully this blog will help me shed light on my own thoughts and progress. I mean, that’s is why I’m doing it. Because posting and writing all these entries has actually really forced me to make fitness and healthier eating an active component in my day.

And as I write this I’m glad I did work out and I’m glad I gave it my all. My PTs motivation was more than enough to get me through it and I’m glad I can go to bed knowing my body’s taken care of for the day.

Lead to darkness to light
The unreal to the real
From the time bound state on consciousness
To the time less state of being
(Asatoma prayer)

May my body
Be a colorful tale of my desires for
Myself and you
My what is written
My life
My temporary body
Art for illumination
And joy
© J9 aka Jessica9names
Aka the #militantmatriarch


VMFA Day a few weeks back. We saw the Japanese Tattoo exhibit, which only solidified my desire for large parts of my body to be covered in art. Better start a tattoo fund, because who needs to pay off college loans? HA.

With a single touch, being held in His arms. Surrendered I fell, in an avalanche of ecstasy, dripping, dripping down my back. My body still quivers to the thought, my legs still tremble. Wet with desire, to taste His love upon my lips again. O'My Beloved King, Show me Everything that I shouldn’t Know* … ~ ༺ ❤️ ༻ by Instagram User: omgurudatta August 20, 2015 at 03:17PM at #München #Schwabing