Kinkmeme the Second! (Courtesy the Bee Embuzzy)

[preuxchevalier]

We have collected fantazztic lore from the Hand'zz and the Monk'zz pozzzzezzzzionzz! It dezzcribezz the mozzt wondrouzz actzz of contortion and romance. We wish to experience more of thizz for our cultural zztudiezz that we may better azzzzizzt the Lamb!

The Bee Embuzzy implorezz you for your help. Pleazze help uzz to learn of the many wayzz of pleazzure and pazzzzion that we may better zzerve!

We welcome all other lore of zzimple romance, too. Thezze are mozzt foreign conceptzz to beezz! Perhapzz if you leave a note (zzigned or not) of a particular act, otherzz may be able to explain more.

Thank you for your help!

[You know kinkmemes! Have at 'em with prompts and fills below. Written or drawn are all loved.]

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

So there was this prompt on the last JJ Kinkmeme

"So Ienzo's dreamself and presumably godtier bodies are cismale right? What about taking a look at him getting used to his new anatomy, either solo or with some help from Bertie?"

And I had half of a fucking thing written for it and damned if I'm scrapping it so I'm reposting it here. There's like zero point in anoning because everyone knows it's me but I don't care it's traditional

FILL (part 1/2) minor dysphoria content warning

[(Anonymous)]

The last few months of Sburb had been hectic, to say the least. Dealing with Jay losing his legs on top of attempting to wrap up the last of his quests and aid in dealing with the remaining Denizens left little time for investigating personal matters, which Ienzo found very unfortunate, given that as of the abrupt end to Vladik Vathek’s bacchanal he had some very personal matters that he really needed to look into. As it stood though, there just wasn’t enough time and, almost as pressingly, not enough privacy for him to be at all comfortable taking a moment to do so.

Of course, it occurs to him that he might just be making excuses. Doubly so when he continues to regard the idea with trepidation even after arriving somewhere entirely different with no apparent shortage of time and no server players potentially watching at any given time. There’s whatever being governs this realm to be concerned about, of course, but all signs point to them already knowing all of his secrets. If he’s forced to be honest with himself, there’s just something a bit nerve wracking about knowing there’s something different about one’s own body, despite the change being for the better. Possibly because, really, as if looking more closely would make it disappear, like trying to remember a dream.

That’s stupid, of course, and almost definitely not how it works, so as soon as he comes to this realization he resolves to finally give himself a thorough examination.

It’s actually somewhat anticlimactic, once he gets around to it. Which isn’t to say he isn’t pleased, but nothing awful happens when he takes his shirt off to get a better look at himself. He actually has to pause momentarily and wait, wincing, thanks to years of conditioning to expect something horrible to counteract any good things that happen to him. The moment for dramatic irony passes, though, and tentatively he turns back towards the mirror, unsure of what exactly he had intended to do here. Observations from the top down, he supposes? Good enough.

His face is almost entirely the same, which he supposes is convenient in that no one else was aware enough of the differences to question them after he godtiered. He’d been fortunate enough to have been graced with an androgynous appearance from the start, but looking closely at the lines of his jaw, cheekbones and brow they all seem very slightly more pronounced. Though again, the differences are so minute that he’d think it was nothing but wishful thinking on his part if Zexionsprite hadn’t pointed it out to him.

He’s broader across the shoulders as well, but it’s not enough to really be visible either. The only way he really noticed was the fit of his old shirts, all tailored for how he’d been before. More noticeable, though, is his chest, the muscles defined if not particularly impressive. It’s a little strange feeling loose fabric against his skin after being so accustomed to having to bind himself tightly each day in order to feel presentable. Absentmindedly, he brushes his hand across his chest and then shivers at the unexpected sensitivity. Had it always been like that? Possibly, but Ienzo had made a point of ignoring any sensations that came from there for the last eight years.

He pauses, biting his lip, and experimentally runs a rough, callused thumb over his nipple. Yes, he thinks as he actually gasps quietly, he had been this sensitive before, but it had always felt too incorrect and disconcerting to be truly enjoyable. Now it’s… Well. He feels a little undignified standing in front of the mirror and touching himself, and the way the work-worn skin of his hands keeps catching and scraping at his skin is detracting from things a little bit. Bertie’s hands are much smoother, though, and he wonders briefly what it would be like to have him touching him like this.

That’s more than enough of that though. He’s getting distracted. Right.

He’s more than a little disappointed to note that his waist and hips haven’t changed much, if at all. As above his muscles are more defined, but he’s not anything particularly impressive in that arena so they do little to take away from the rather dramatic hourglass curve that’s fairly noticeable even when he takes pains to obscure it with layers of clothing. It may be that this too is all in his head, though. Plenty of people in Sburb had seen him without his labcoat and no one seemed to think anything was odd, and even back when he had to wear the closely fitted uniform of Organization XIII no one questioned his gender in seriousness. Still, he can’t help but frown slightly as he runs his fingertips over the prominent crests of his hips.

So that leaves just one thing that he knows has changed for certain. Truth be told he’s much more nervous about this than anything else, though he can’t say why exactly. It’s just a part of him, and it certainly feels more natural than it had at any time previously, but irrationality is the blight of all sapient beings and he’s just not fully comfortable with looking just yet. He actually considers putting his shirts back on and calling it a day, but no.

Taking a deep breath to steel his nerves, he undoes the buckle of his belt.

FILL (part 2/2) (same warnings as above)

[(Anonymous)]

He has some trouble with it, nervous as he is, but after some fumbling it comes off and he’s able to unbutton his pants and slip his thumbs into the waistband of his underpants, though here he pauses again. Furtively, he tests the air to make sure no one’s about to knock on his door or anything, then carefully shuts and locks his bedroom door just in case. It’s just stalling, and he’s fully aware of that, but the little ritual lends him some sense of privacy and security before he starts.

Once more and decisively this time, then. With a rustle of cloth he slides his pants down his slim legs and steps out of them to stand entirely naked before the mirror.

And it is definitely as embarrassing experience as he thought it would be, even standing alone in his room with the curtains drawn as he is. He’s seen medical diagrams before, of course, but that’s different, and he’s never been all that interested in anyone else sexually. Even on the few occasions where someone did catch his eye in that way the person in question was almost always a woman, and he’d never had the opportunity nor inclination to pursue such desires beyond fleeting glances as he passed by on the way to do other, more important things. Suffice to say that this is all very unfamiliar territory for him.

He stands there for a long moment, stock still an entirely unsure of what it is he’s doing or intended to do here until he finally manages to come to a decision. Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he spreads his legs slightly in order to better examine himself. Already, he’s half-hard thanks in part to his earlier explorations and in part to his imaginings, and he blushes fiercely. Still, curiosity overrides embarrassment as long as no one else is watching, and he gently tugs at the tightly-wrapped hood of skin partially covering the head to try to get a look at what’s under it. This proves difficult, though, as he bucks his hips against his hand and shudders at the mere sensation of being touched. It’s not entirely unlike rubbing his fingertips against his clitoris had been, which doesn’t surprise him terribly since they are homologous structures. He hadn’t quite expected the whole thing to be so sensitive, though, and chews his lip for a few moments before trying again. This time he wraps his hand around his cock and slides it down slowly, pulling the fold of skin back as he does so. It takes a great deal of effort not to rock against himself, but he manages, breathing deeply and clinging to the blanket with his free hand as he inspects the slick, flushed skin.

The rough texture of his hands against his most sensitive skin is unpleasant - nearly bordering on painful as he runs his fingertips across the delicate flesh of the head - but despite this by the time he’s finished his pulse is racing and his cock stands at full attention even once he’s no longer touching it. This isn’t a new problem, at least. Some mornings he’s just woken up to find it like this. It’s a common enough problem, at least, but he’s not really sure how best to deal with it beyond simply ignoring it until it goes away. Somehow, though, this solution doesn’t sound particularly appealing at the current time. Awkwardly, he rubs his thighs against each other and glances around again nervously.

Carefully, he takes his cock in hand again, trying to hold it in such a way that the tough pads of his calluses don’t scrape against him. It takes some doing, but he manages, caressing himself while staying mindful of his nails and fingertips. It feels nice enough, and he lies back, his other hand roaming down over his legs to knead at the skin between his thighs. It’s force of habit, really, but he’s surprised to find that the pressure of his fingers against his skin is still very pleasurable, despite the changes in anatomy.

His inexperience is a boon to him here, in a way. Soon enough he’s moaning despite his best attempts not to and arching his back, eyes squeezed shut with the intensity of the sensations. With one final stroke he sends himself over, hips jerking as his whole body goes tense at once before finally relaxing again. He lies there for a good while afterwards, waiting for his breathing to even out again and feeling oddly tired (that was almost definitely a new development) before he manages to sit back up again. He didn’t quite manage to finish looking himself over, really, but he supposes it will be easy enough to continue while he cleans himself up.