#and of course it seems to be fantasy that if i explain things just right to my sibling. that maybe they would understand

[firecoloredwater]

I think in this case, it has to actually be a question of "to what extent was gender play an inherent and necessary part of the bodice ripper in the late 1960s?"

Because like, the sexism is most extreme in Dragonflight, and it was very firmly established in "Weyr Search," which Wikipedia tells me was published in 1967.

That's where we get Fax's harem of abused wives, and... I don't think we ever get anything like that again, actually? Like I don't think Meron or Chalkin or any other evil antagonist character gets to collect women to abuse; generally they seem to either be paired with an evil girlfriend (Meron/Kylara, the Oldtime weyrleader couples) or no wife is mentioned at all. Definitely nothing dwells on it like "Weyr Search"/the beginning of Dragonflight does.

There's plenty of other sexism after that point, like... uh, everything. Basically everything. But "Lessa is kept isolated and not told how mating flights work in order to keep her helpless" and "the Harper Hall doesn't allow girls to be apprentices" feel like a different flavor to me? They're close equivalents to things that were happening in the US and in Britain in real life at the time.

I started quoting from Wikipedia's Timeline of Women's Legal Rights for examples but there's too many actually, so I'm just linking it.

Anyway, I would say that gender play is, if not strictly necessary, then at least strongly desired as a facet of bodice rippers, because have you seen the entire concept of omegaverse. When we weren't comfortable using real genders for this people just flat out invented fantasy genders to use for it instead. Sometimes sentinel/guide gets used the same way, as does psychic wolves and of course Pern dragon colors.

But I don't think bodice rippers are necessary to explain it.

Looking through that Wikipedia list, the late 60s and early 70s had a lot of countries and states changing their laws to allow abortion if it was to save the life of the mother, and a few mentions of birth control being made legal for married couples; it's specified at least once in Dragonflight that Fax deliberately keeps his wives pregnant in an attempt to kill them, and Lady Gemma does indeed die.

There are a lot of entries about women fighting for the right to careers (horse jockey, reporter, stewardess, bartender, lawyer) and equal pay, and in the late 70s we get Dragonsong and Dragonsinger.

I don't (in my quick peek during work) see any mentions of laws or court cases about directly equivalent situations to the whole "Lessa isolated in the Weyr, taught nothing useful and not allowed to speak to anyone that might be on her side" thing, but like... that's pretty hard to legislate. Given that abortion rights, the right for women to own their own property, and the right to have jobs and equal pay were all recurring themes, I think it's a safe bet that 'abusive husband/father/other male family isolates a woman and sabotages her education and friendships in order to control her' was probably something in the general feminist consciousness at the time.

So. basically. Anne McCaffrey was absolutely coming from a bodice ripper background, and that's why we have mating flights, but I think the rest of the sexism was mostly because all of it was happening in the world around her as she wrote, and so she wrote about it.

i still think that one of the worst things pernese history implies is that if you had a society where misogyny is supposed to be gone or at least greatly reduced and then took away their technology and put them in a hard situation they would re-evolve hardcore misogyny again, where women are clearly and obviously seen as lesser and can't have some jobs or be leaders. it's lazy, it implies that misogyny is because of something inherent about women, and it doesn't even make sense in the context in which it's presented.

"they felt the need to protect women because they can get pregnant and they were worried about population," cool, give them like, a sense of high value around the weight and importance of pregnancy then, or if you want it to be something negative that people who can become pregnant face, add in heavy expectations around getting pregnant/ taking care of yourself or being taken care of during pregnancy.

[itshomobirb]

there exists not a universe where i could talk my parents into actually caring for me. because if it was possible, i wouldve fucking done it by now. and i know there's an inherent grief in thinking about how your parents aren't actually perfect, but c'mon. one of my siblings goes "i talked with dad and convinced him to compromise (on attempting to kill ur cat just to prove u wrong). think you should talk to dad, it would be very helpful ^_^" and then my dad comes up to me five minutes later and says "borb it's like you don't even love us." shaking my sibling by the shoulders like don't you understand? there isnt a cheat code, a perfect set of words that will make our parents actually love me. there isn't a way to make them care. it's complete fantasy, to think that if i just sit them down and explain well enough, that it'll magically fix them and turn them into the ideal parents, or hell, even good enough parents. that's not who they are or who they've ever been.

[nereidprinc3ss]

andromeda | (dybmn? bonus)

a bonus vignette from spencer's POV. we find out how he really feels about reader. takes place the day before the argument at the bar.

note: this is not part six! takes place between parts four and five.

series masterlist

18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, semi-graphic descriptions of sexual fantasies, some angst, you're not actually present, mention of alcohol, very vague discussions of murdery stuff bc he's supposed to be working, sassy spencer makes an appearance a/n: for all my angels who said they wanted a snippet of spencer's POV! i'm sorry if i'm overdoing it with this story or clogging the spencer tags, i'm just having a lot of fun! i hope you enjoy or that this may be clears some things up for you, pls lmk your thoughts:) ily!!!

Spencer is incessantly drumming the particle board table underneath his fingers.

The polymer veneer is one of his least favorite textures—he hates the grain of it and if he were to accidentally scratch the table with his nails he knows it would make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

But of all the things he’s worried about, that ranks very low on the list. 

He’s got a lot of mental tabs open all the time—and the tabs, he can deal with. It’s when he starts trying to operate with multiple windows that he begins to struggle. His brain, while it is a very fine tuned sort of computer, only has one monitor. Unfortunately, no human (except for the ones who’ve had their brain hemispheres surgically split) is immune to the inevitable pitfalls of multitasking. By dividing his mental energy between you and his job, he’s really fucking up his job. But he also thinks he really fucked up with you on that phone call the other night and for being as logical as he is he can’t seem to make that feel unimportant—even though he’s disgusted with himself for it because there are literally people dying. 

Someone knocks on the open conference room door—he looks up, skimming his lips over his fist. 

“What’s up?” he says too quickly upon seeing Emily’s mildly concerned face peering in on him. 

Her mouth bridges into a sort of nonchalant frown and her brows kick up. 

“Just… checking in. Haven’t heard from you all morning.”

“Yeah, the, uh—the geo-profile. I’m still… I’m still working it out.”

It’s not like he’s ever been phenomenal with his syntax in a social sense, but Spencer is certainly aware he’s doing even worse than usual right now. 

“Okay. Uh… is there anything in particular stumping you, or…?”

“Nope. Just not enough information. But I’m—I’m going to keep trying.”

“Alright. Got your phone handy?”

It’s an odd question—of course he has his phone handy. He’s been doing this job longer than Emily has. How else would he communicate with the rest of the team? He bristles. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Emily shakes her head. She’s always been particularly good at reading his moods.

“You’re not under attack, Reid. I was just asking.”

Just as he’s about to say, why would you assume I’m not prepared for my job, he manages to swerve away and stifle the words with his fist. Instead he looks back down at his copy of the map and nods. In reality, he truly isn’t prepared for his job today. The reason he has his phone so close, fully charged and at top volume is because he’s worried he’ll miss a call from you. 

Emily says something else, and he hums in response, and then she’s gone. 

He shouldn’t be reading into your reticence this much. It’s not like you just sit by the phone all day, eagerly awaiting a call or text from him (like he does you). You have a life. You’re busy. And even if you are intentionally dodging his texts, he can’t entirely fault you for it. Spencer knows he’s clingy. He knows he’s overbearing. It’s part of why he panicked the other night and told you the whole humiliating story about Elle. Because he can’t ever just be cool and he felt the need to explain himself. 

But the problem was, and is, that he doesn’t know how much longer he can go without saying those three words that fucked him over all those years ago.

So he’d danced around them. Applied them to someone else to try and avoid outright professing his all-consuming love for you over the phone. However you feel, Spencer has to assume he feels more. Spencer always has to assume he feels more because he usually does and it’s gotten him into trouble before. And now he’s pretty sure he was exactly right, as often is the case, because you didn’t tell him he was mistaken and you’d clammed up and you haven’t talked to him since and he’s not supposed to be reading into it this much. 

Three victims killed and dumped within a 6 mile radius of the first victim plus one victim killed and dumped 23.8 miles away. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Fuck this guy. 

Spencer decides the problem is that he needs more caffeine. 

Or possibly, if he were a different kind of man—copious amounts of alcohol. 

So he stows his phone in a pocket and asks the first person he sees where the coffee machine is. 

“Looks like you found it earlier,” the woman says, glancing pointedly down at his mostly empty mug. A playful smirk tugs at pinkish-brownish lips. She’s pretty, he realizes distantly. But he registers it the same way he’d take note of the model of a car, or the species of a bird, or the kind of shoes someone is wearing. It doesn’t actually interest him. It’s just part of processing his environment. “I can show you to it?”

He doesn’t have the heart or energy to explain that someone else brought him his cup earlier and he’s not flirting with her. 

“If you could just point me in the right direction…?”

She laughs, short and dry, before she’s pointing down a hall. 

“Kitchenette down there and to the left.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, already walking away without sparing her a second glance. 

She’s the kind of woman he would have paid a lot more attention to before you came along. Not that he’d ever sleep with someone on the job (not since he was 25, anyway), but if he’d met her under any other circumstances he probably would have cared more about the way her pupils dilated and her eyes had widened slightly and she’d adjusted her posture and all the other small things people do when they’re attracted to someone else. 30 year old Spencer might have slept with her. 27 year old Spencer definitely would have slept with her. Current Spencer obsessively pines for a woman who is already his girlfriend and whom he has yet to sleep with at all far too much to think about other women like that. 

But god, does he think about you like that. 

His feet carry him down the dim, carpeted hallway but really it took barely a nudge and he’s thinking about you like that. At work. As he’s pouring himself coffee. 

Spencer is confident in the fact that if anyone were to look at him right now, they’d never guess he’s running clips of you in his mind like a dirty supercut. Because he’s just pouring coffee. That’s one good thing about having all those tabs open all the time. He can toggle between them quickly. He has enough going on in the background that people look at him and all they can tell is that he’s thinking hard about lots of things. Some of them just happen to be the way you look when you’re naked on his bed, skin shining and glazed eyes sleepy, parted lips higher in color than usual and catching your breath. Some of them happen to be your hair brushing his stomach before he gathers it back for you. Some of them happen to be the way your thighs feel on either side of his face, or how you stretch around his fingers, or how you might feel when you stretch around his—

He hisses as hot coffee overflows from the mug and burns his hand. 

Maybe he’s not as calm and collected as he thought. 

But on top of all the other things he’s dealing with, having been so close to actually sleeping with you the other night is really fucking with his head. Even if he tells himself he wouldn't have done it, he knows himself better than that. He's too familiar with the effect you have on his judgement.

“Found it okay?” 

Spencer looks down, surprised to see the woman from earlier sitting at her desk and watching him as he quickly passes by on his way back to the conference room. Her legs are crossed. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a flouncy sort of blouse which seems impractical for working in an FBI field office. Maybe she notices his eye catching on her figure and misguidedly swivels her chair to give him a better look. But all he’s noticing is that it doesn’t look like yours. Now he’s picturing the curve of your hip dripping in silk after that first night at Rossi’s. How your waist and your stomach feel when he slides his hands over you. This woman—she might as well not even be here for all he’s actually seeing her. 

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

Then he’s gone. Very briefly he acknowledges that he should feel sorry for so obviously brushing her off, but he doesn’t care even close to enough. He sets the coffee down on the table and rounds to the board where one of several maps is taped. On autopilot he draws lines between dump sites because one of the background tabs had deduced, while he was busy watching you like porn, that the distance between dump sites form the beginnings of the constellation Orion with some mathematical precision that’s too exacting to be coincidental. Orion’s Belt plus the most recent victim. Betelgeuse. 

There are ten formally named stars that make up Orion. He marks all of them, but circles the transposed coordinates of Bellatrix, Saiph, Rigel and Meissa as the next most likely dump sites. Most probably it will be Orion’s head. They’re all in wooded areas. He calls Garcia. Garcia will call Emily, wherever she is. If the unsub sticks to pattern, which they always do, they have until midnight. It’s trite, really. Predictable, like people always are. Far too quickly he drinks half the cup of scalding coffee and retraces his steps through the office to find the bathroom. 

It’s empty. The fluorescent lights hum. Spencer washes his hands with cold water and presses still wet fingers to his eyes. You’re waiting for him behind the black of his lids.

At first you would whine, and he would kiss you and you’d moan into his mouth and say his name when he opened you up as far as you would go. The air would be thick and warm with sex and vanilla perfume. Afterwards he’d take care of you and buy new sheets for his bed in your favorite color even if they didn’t match the walls and there would be nothing you’d want for that he couldn’t give to you ever again. 

But. 

That’s all contingent. 

No matter how often he fantasizes about it, no matter in how much detail, and regardless of how often those details change wildly, one thing always stays the same. 

The shape of your lips, swollen from kissing, bending around five or six vowels and only two consonants (it seems odd that there are only two consonants in I love you), sometimes before you start, sometimes in the middle or right at the peak—but always there, always moving in slow motion—and always silent.

In real life, they’d be aloud. It’s why his fantasies aren’t good enough. It’s why he can’t stop fantasizing about it. That’s the only part that really matters to him. The rest varies. 

Not because having sex with you doesn’t matter—it matters so much he almost shatters his molars whenever he starts picturing it around other people. But because Spencer can’t have sex with you until you love him. 

And he worries that you can’t love him until you have sex with him. 

The last time he thought that about a person, it didn’t turn out well.

Maybe there is some magic number. Some amount of times you need to have sex with someone before they’ll love you back. 

If there is, he knows for a fact it’s more than 32.

And he also knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cannot have loveless sex with you thirty three times while he waits to find out. 

Not again. 

But he's going to hold out as long as he possibly can until you say it because he so badly wants you to love him back. He'll let the weight of every ignored text, every reminder that you don't feel that way about him, hang from his shoulders until he collapses. And then he'll probably try to get back up.

Recycled paper towels scratch against his skin. He dries his face and hands and throws them crumpled into the trash can. 

Outside the restroom, he pulls out his phone. For safety reasons and paranoia disguised as professionalism, you’re not his lock screen. It’s a photo of the Andromeda Galaxy. Whatever distance lies between you and Spencer, it could always be greater. No matter where you are in the world, you will always be the same 2.537 million light years away from Andromeda that he is. 

It makes Orion feel much closer. You, too. 

He sends you a text—the third message in a row. 

The distance between blue bubbles feels like light years. 

I’ll be home tomorrow. I miss you. 

[paddedlittleparadise]

TW: forced regression, bodily waste, diaper use, non-con

Note that in this fantasy scenario, all individuals are adults over the age of 18!

–––

Why the crotch strap?

Oh, sweetie, it's really not that hard to understand! But I see the fear in your eyes – the fear that fogs your mind and clogs your rational faculties. Mommy gets it. Mommy knows how scary it is to see your new little brother getting broken in. Don't worry. Mommy will explain everything to you.

Never mind his moans. Never mind his squirming. Mommy put him in that straitjacket for a reason. He's safe now: safe from himself, from his silly attempts to escape, from everything that might disturb the process. See? He can tug and moan and writhe – like an adorable, pathetic little worm – but he's not going anywhere. Not so long as those straps are holding him tight in Mommy's inescapable hug.

The crotch strap, hmm? Aww, just look at it. It's so… wide, isn't it? Wide and strong, with stout buckles keeping it in place. It fits so well over your little brother's diaper, too. And with those pretty blue stripes running parallel with it… aww, it's genuinely beautiful!

It seems so tight? Are you sure about that, sweetie? Go on. Reach out and touch it. Run your trembling fingers over the plastic, the canvas, the lovely strong stitching… down to that cold steel buckle. Slip your fingers underneath, now. See? It's not quite so tight as you thought!

And why is that, sweetie? Why ever would Mommy leave that nice strong crotch strap loose, hmm?

Oh, I see your questioning eyes, blinking up fearfully. You don't know, do you? But don't worry. Mommy said she'd explain.

It's for a very good reason, sweetie. See, listen to your little brother, gulping and fighting in his bonds. He's struggling against himself now: against the lovely load of milk and juice Mommy pumped into him just now. Against the muscle relaxants that slowly are making it harder and harder for him to resist. Against the lovely, large fleet enema Mommy squirted deep into his bum… and that's already got him burning and aching to release.

That crotch strap is ready.

Because it will happen, sweetie. There's no way anyone can win such a fight. He'll lose: little by little, more and more, until at last he's lying there, shuddering as his bladder and bowels empty themselves over and over into his diaper. And with every addition, that diaper of his will swell: silently mushrooming out, straining against that strap, seeking for anywhere to expand and grow. With nowhere to go, sweetie… you know where it will expand, don't you?

Inward, of course. All around his cute little pee-pee. Tighter and closer, wet and mushy and ever so warm. That strap is there to tease him, to torment him, to force his mind to accept the truth: that he's Mommy's baby now, actively peeing and pooping his pants with no way to control himself. Sure, he'll keep writhing and wriggling like the stubborn fellow he is. But with every movement, that strap will tug. His pee-pee will sense it. And oh, you know what happens when little boys feel warm, wet, tight things around their pee-pees, don't you?

That's the second reason, sweetie. That crotch strap is there to tease him into arousal. Oh, he won't want to, of course. What self-respecting fellow wants to get hard from feeling his own pee and poo around him? But thanks to Mommy's crotch strap and his own submissive cravings, he will. He'll try to resist, of course – to struggle against his own dirty impulses. But with every movement, every motion, he'll feel his trapped little cock swelling, stiffening, aching… and being forced, deeper and tighter and more surely than ever, back down into the messy, squishy mass of his own soiled diaper. Still he'll fight it, and still he'll grow harder and harder… until at last, he'll be moaning and cumming, right into the humiliating mess of his smelly diaper.

That's why Mommy has the crotch strap, sweetie. Not to restrain his body, oh no. It's to destroy his pride, his sense of self… and in the end, his old erotic programming.

Aww, are you crying, sweetie? Whatever for? Are you trying to tell Mommy that you want a crotch strap, too?

She could arrange that, you know!

Image Credit: Baby-Doll.com

Be sure to check out my Ream Stories if you want to read more of my naughty fiction!

[de4dlyniightshade]

LITTLE BLURB ON SPENCER WAKING UP WITH THAT PAINFULLY HARD MORNING WOOD PLS PLS??

That one hc where you explained bro would rut his hips into the air, the tip of his cock rubbing against the material of his underwear making him whimper, GOD I NEED A BLURB FOR THAT PLS MAMA🙏

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: +18, mdni

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: smut, male masturbation(kinda), morning wood, cumming in pants, that's abt it.

© to de4dlyniightshade. no translations/reposts.

[WARNING!] - explicit sexual content! mdni!

spencer hated a lot of things about being away from you on cases, there was the fact he couldn't ramble to you about anything and had to be professional all the time, also that he couldn't just be in your company of course. he couldn't touch you, kiss you, hug you, hold your hand, nothing, but worst of all he hated waking up without you.

you had fell into a pretty unconventional morning routine with spencer after you realised that every morning without fail he was hard, it was never because of anything specific or because he had a dream about you, he just always woke up hard, even before you met him. so it quickly became a routine that he would wake up before you, patiently wait for you to wake up, kiss you and then you'd help him out a little, it was truly a dream for any man and he loved it but the only downside was when you weren't there, like now.

spencer had been on a case for not even a week and he was struggling, every single morning he was aching in his pants and his own hand just wasn't the same, he was grouchy to say the least, so much so that even derek noticed, spencer having been a little snarky with him.

this day was the worst by far though. the rest had been bad but bearable, the odd day being easy enough to just let his dick chill out on its own but not today, today spencer woke up lined in sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck, his shirt clinging to him, throat dry and his cock painfully hard in his pants.

spencer knew you can't control your dreams but god he wished he could so he didn't have to wake up from an unattainable fantasy of your mouth wrapped around his cock. usually he didn't have too many raunchy dreams about you, it was almost as if his brain knew you were there and he didn't need dreams to imagine you like that but in the same way it's like his brain knew you weren't there right now.

he couldn't help but let out a whine at the feeling of his length straining against his clothes and also at the realisation that this one was not going away on its own and he had to have a very desperate, very lacklustre jerk off in a hotel room alone, it truly was not his proudest moment.

still delirious and full of sleep he opted for letting his hips roll upward for some friction, his tip brushing the material of his pyjamas making him gasp slightly, the usually soft material feeling so rough against his sensitive cock.

shamefully, he couldn't help but do it again, rutting his hips into nothing just for a little stimulation on his aching length, a pathetic whimper slipping past his lips as he repeated the motion, and then again, and again until he was practically fucking the inside of his clothes.

it was pathetic and he knew it but he just couldn't stop himself, the thought of having to actually jerk off just seemed like so much effort and why would he when this felt so good?

what he didn't realise is that it felt a little too good but he was so caught up in the pleasure and sleepy daze that before he knew it he was choking out a whimper as he spilled into his pants, warm spurts of cum soiling his pyjamas and coating his skin as he continued to whimper and gently rut his hips.

when he finally came down from his high he couldn't help but sigh at himself, he truly felt pathetic, he had just desperately humped nothing until he came in his pants, definitely not his proudest moment but also a moment of clarity that he was not made for being separated from you.

[shy-writer-999]

Summary: You’ve got to go, but Zoro doesn’t seem to care. ~650 words. This is, all things considered, a very tame take on the watersports kink imho! Enjoy~ (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

CW: Afab reader, watersports (piss), P in V.

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

“Wait, Zoro, seriously, I have to go.”

You straddled Zoro and you were both sitting up. Your legs were wrapped around him and your bare chests pressed together. You were complaining but you weren’t doing anything about it.

He was holding onto your hips with a vice grip, fucking you so deep you were worried you’d piss on him if he fucked you any harder. You told Zoro that you needed to go to the bathroom right before you started having sex. You figured it would be a quickie and that you’d be able to run off to the bathroom after you were done, but he just wasn’t listening to you… and that was 30 minutes ago.

Your initial reaction to Zoro’s watersports kink had been one of abhorrence, but he explained why it turned him on so much and you had pondered on it. You later told him you’d be down for it (if he did all the cleanup, of course), but you didn’t expect it to be today.

“Zoro, please. I have to go.”

“Not yet, baby. Just a little bit more. Feels too good to pull out right now.” He rasped in your ear, and it sent goosebumps down your spine. His rough hands and toned arms pulled you off his cock and sunk you back down on it. He was pressing you down rougher than he knew he should, but it just felt so good. He was hoping you’d let him live out the watersports fantasy he told you about weeks ago. Of course, you had a safeword that you were more than comfortable using—but Zoro did have a point. It felt too good to stop.

“Zoro, ’m too full.” You whined as his tip dragged on your g-spot, applying force deep inside and pressing on your bladder again. It was about to be one press too many.

“Just let it out, baby. It’ll feel good.”

You groaned and bit your lip. You didn’t think that you’d be able to hold it much longer, but when his cock was this deep it was hard to think straight.

“I’ve got an idea,” he paused and you gasped with relief. “C’mere babe. Let’s get you in a different position. A better one.”

You whimpered as Zoro manhandled you, pulling you around so you were in doggystyle. You tried to squeeze your thighs together to ward off the impending release, but all they could do was shake.

He pushed his cock into you slowly, and then bent over you, pressing his chest to your back. ���This better?”

As he started fucking you again, you let out a desperate moan. The different angle was pressing on your bladder more than before, so when you thought you were going to get a reprieve, you were sorely mistaken. He fucked down and into you, deep and grinding as his hips rolled against yours.

Zoro's earrings jingled in your ears, a rhythmic and metallic music that you could listen to for hours.

“Zoro, fuck, it’s too much” you keened his name, almost crying, and it spurred him on. You were getting dangerously close to relieving yourself and cumming at the same time. He was ravenous for it.

“Get yourself all dirty for me, sweetheart. Let it out.”

“I—fuck—I c-can’t hold it anymore, Zoro.”

“Then don’t."

His fingers crept down to rub circles around your clit, something he hoped would send you over the edge. A loud, guttural moan escaped your lips when he pressed down on your clit like it was a button. At the same, he thrusted into you especially hard, and your body released against your own will. His fingers danced around your clit, goading out as much liquid and pleasure as they could.

“Zoro—fuck, fuck, Zoro,” you spasmed and squirmed around his cock, dribbling and squirting messiness all over while cumming at the same time. You practically screamed his name. Your walls clenched around him harder than he had ever felt, and he groaned in your ear.

“Mmmmm. I told you it would feel good, didn’t I?”

Your convulsions and rolling eyes were more than enough evidence that he was right.

that's all for this one (ᵔ◡ᵔ) i honestly had fun writing this and i think i'm won over by this kink. shoutout to the two anons who asked for this! sorry if it wasn't freaky enough :o but i hope u liked it <3

here's my masterlist and my october posting schedule!

finally, trick or treat? (tumblr links!)

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

[ohnoitstbskyen]

... y'all know Lae'zel is acting scared, right?

Video transcription: I've seen a lot of comments on my short about Lae'zel dismissing her entire character because she's mean and… I'm just checking in here… you guys know she's scared, right? She's terrified. She was kidnapped by the worst monster she knows, infected with the most horrifying death anyone in her culture can have, and then stranded on a hostile world, alone, with nothing to guide her except the dogmatic military cult indoctrination of a cruel lich demigod, telling her that her only hope of salvation is to follow Gith doctrine with total unyielding faith. And still she tries to save you. When she keeps insisting that you must get to the Githyanki crèche, it's our only hope, she's trying to guide you towards the only salvation she knows from the parasite, so she can share it with you. And Gith... aren't supposed to do that, saving an outsider is not part of the doctrine, she's breaking the rules trying to do right by you. None of that means she's not being an asshole, she's rude, dogmatic and unpleasant. But everything she does comes from a genuine, very misguided and abrasive, desire to do the right thing. It doesn't make her behaviour okay, but there is more to her character than just "being the mean one."

To expand on this a bit more than I can in a 60 second short, people acting from fear and from their damage is a major theme among the Baldur's Gate 3 companions.

Lae'zel is terrified and falling back on the only thing she believes will give her back some control over her situation, which is the dogma of the military cult she's in. Shadowheart is much the same, amnesiac and grasping on to the only solid thing she knows, which is her faith, which preaches deception, loss and duplicity as the only certain factors in life.

Gale is an inveterate people-pleaser desperately dependent on other people to help him feed his magic addiction, with his overtly affable exterior hiding a rolling boulder of guilt, ambition, greed, arrogance and legitimate hurt. Asterion is... well, no way to really lay out his deal without spoiling, but the boy has been through it and his self-destructive, hedonistic and selfish impulses are all coping mechanism and self-defense all the time.

None of that make their shitty behaviours okay, but in a fictional story, those kinds of flaws and toxic behaviours are what make for interesting stories and characters. I don't blame anyone for finding Lae'zel unpleasant and abrasive, but I do get a bit Old Man Yells At Cloud about people who casually brag about shoving her off a cliff-side, or murdering her because "she was a bitch" or whatever.

Like... being unable to face discomfort in your media is not a virtue, and lashing out reactively against fiction that doesn't validate your power fantasy isn't a flex.

Of course, I saw a lot of those reactions in YouTube comments and on social media, so my sample is biased by those algorithms, but still. A lot of people seem aggressively proud that they never engaged with her story because the terrified indoctrinated child-soldier wasn't immediately nice to them and I can't explain it but something about that reaction feels puritan to me.

[lcriedlastnight]

Fake dating and drunken kisses with Oscar. The drunken kisses, with reader's fingers in Oscar's hair and reader sitting in his lap, kissing him with no restraint; things getting heated, Oscar's hands slipping under reader's top and earning a slight shiver from her. All the while, Oscar could only wish reader would kiss him like this when they're sober. Oscar lets that thought linger until they both fall asleep in each other's arms after kissing way too many times to count because they can't seem to get enough of each other.

thanks anon, lovely! i appreciate you very much.

tw: fem!reader. maybe a few swears. not spell checked. not too sure, lmk if you want me to add any.

w/c: 1.8k

it wasn’t oscar’s idea, he swears. but now he’s here, at this club, filled with his fellow drivers, random celebrities he can’t be arsed to learn the names of, multiple fan girls trying to get with lando and you.

he wasn’t even sure it was lando’s idea to go out to some random club in miami to celebrate his first win. it probably was, if he thought straight, but how could he? with a mix of a constant supply of alcohol and you swimming through his veins, he doesn’t know how anyone expects him to think straight.

he had the pleasure of you being glued to his side from the moment the both of you stepped into the club, your hand not leaving his arm for a whole thirty minutes.

this was all for show of course, but his friends around him didn’t know this, they thought whatever you and him had going on was real and it was nights like these where he could play into his deepest fantasies. the ones where you’re not all over him because you have to be, but because you want to be. like he longs for you to be.

you started off sitting beside him. your hand sitting loosely on his forearm, your touch light and tickling a little as you run your fingers over his bare skin. the more drinks you were convinced to down with lando, and the shots logan told you tasted so good, ended up with you being a little more than drunk.

so you went from sitting politely beside him, three hours before, to your legs slung over his lap, half sitting on him half not.

because oscar had had significantly less than you to drink tonight he was way less drunk and more tipsy. drunk enough to follow in your footsteps with how affectionate you were being. although he didn’t think he had to have alcohol to do it. just your permission.

“the thing is, batman really did hate the joker he was just afraid to let him know it. he for sure has like emotional problems or something. but by the end of the film he lets everyone in and it’s so nice!”. you had just finished explaining the plot of the lego batman film to oscar. he nodded along, listening as best as he could, although you did loose him at some points, he would have to watch it to see what you were talking about.

the table was almost empty by the end of your ramble, everyone having left because they didn’t really care much, neither did oscar but he cared about what you cared about so maybe he did.

he hums as his hand played with your hair, brushing it away from your face and tangling it between his fingers. he had a strong urge to kiss you right now. but your agreement had been to only kiss if everyone wasn’t convinced, which meant you guys had only kissed once or twice. and that was at the start of- well whatever this was. everyone was easily convinced you two were together. oscar didn’t know whether to be happy at annoyed.

oscar’s knocked out of his thoughts by you shuffling around to sit yourself on his lap. your smile bright.

“thanks for listening osc. m’gonna kiss you now, okay?” you mumble out, your hands holding onto his shoulders. oscar’s on your hips, holding you still.

he barely get a second to even register your words before your leaning down and locking your lips on his. he feels guilty because you’re way more drunk than him but before he can pull away from you, your mouth opens and you’re sloppily kissing him a little bit harder. he returns the favour, quickly.

you’re both interrupted by a voice calling over to you both to ‘get some!’. you pull away embarrassed, hiding your head in the crook of oscar’s neck. his hands jump to cradle the back of your head and your neck. his touch gentle and loving. oscar wants to kill whatever driver hollered at them. now you’re embarrassed and you’ll probably never want to kiss him again!

after maybe ten minutes you pop your head out from it’s hiding place. your eyes glassy as you stare at oscar.

“can we go home?” you ask him. you seem less drunk than you were before the kiss. maybe it sobered you up? oscar thinks for a moment before replying. “home?”.

“your room.” you clarify. your words come out shy, which surprises him. he’s never really seen you shy before. it’s a side he comes to enjoy. he nods at your words and quickly pulls his phone out to book an uber for you both.

you ungraciously pull yourself off his lap and stand, wobbling in your heels next to the table, waiting on him. oscar is quick to follow suit, making sure he has your purse and that your purse has all your things inside. once he’s sure he has everything he grabs your hand in his.

“c’mon pretty. we gotta say bye to lando first before we leave.” he tells you, voice all soft and syrupy. you nod, agreeing.

oscar pulls you through all the dancing bodies on the dance floor, his hand gripping yours tightly making sure you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd of people. he eventually spots lando in the corner and explains that you’re both leaving.

“you’re leaving! why?!” lando complains over the loud, thumping music. you wobble on your heels and half fall into oscar, who catches you quickly, like if you were to fall you would die.

“we’re getting pretty tired” oscar tells him, his eyes saying sorry, but he wasn’t really. not when you were coming home with him. lando pouts and complains but eventually bids you both goodnight before finding his dance partner again.

oscar says goodbyes to other people he sees on the way to the door, hand still clutching yours. you mumble your goodbyes too not wanting to seem rude. the uber is waiting for you both outside and oscar couldn’t be more glad wanting to get you to the hotel as soon as he can.

the boy helps you inside then gets inside too. he helps you buckle your belt, the alcohol in his system helping him converse with the driver, his hand glued to your thigh, rubbing softly.

you rest the side of your head on the car door and it thumps against it as the car follows the roads bumps and turns. oscar looks at you in concern but doesn’t mention it. the ride to the hotel isn’t as long as you thought it would be but you think it must be because of the alcohol.

oscar helps you out the car and thanks the driver before grabbing your hand again and leading you into the hotel. he thanks his luck once again this night, as he thinks about how lovey you were being with him. he knows you don’t do it normally because it’s not in your agreement unless necessary but god, to have you touch him like this when you were sober.

you both cling to each other in the elevator as oscar presses soft kisses to your shoulder as you stand in front of him. you lean your head back on his chest, revelling in his affection. the elevator stops at his floor and he leads you to his room.

“i’m sleeping in your bed with you tonight, by the way” you say as he swiped the key card and ushers you inside.

oscar’s brows jump up in surprise and amusement as a smirk makes its way to his mouth. “where else would you be sleeping, hm?” he asks.

that stupid smirk just makes you want to kiss it off of him, so you do. you lean up on your tiptoes to kiss him gently. oscar feels you straining and leans down to kiss you better. your hands make their way up to his hair to tug a little, earning yourself a little groan. this makes you smile into his mouth. he pulls away at this.

oscar doesn’t think his life can get any better as be presses firm kisses to your lips before pulling away, your own lips chasing his. he throws his head back with a silent groan before asking, “m’kay pretty girl, time for bed?”. you nod and let him lead you to get ready for bed.

you take significantly longer than oscar to get ready for bed, so he sits in his once lonely bed waiting for you, thinking about how good he must’ve been in his past life to be able to do this with you tonight. he wants to be this domestic with you for the rest of his life. he’s not even being dramatic. the sound of your footsteps breaks him out of his train of thoughts.

“hey, look at you! c’mere pretty.” oscar coos as he pats his lap, signalling for you to sit. you follow his directions and clamber into his lap, still a little drunk. the boy holds back a chuckle. he feels drunk then too but not off those stupid shots you took with logan, off your touch. he thinks about your dress from tonight. then he kisses you again.

oscar traces your lips with his tongue and you open for him, letting him in. you kiss each other lazily, you’re in no rush. your hands find his hair again tugging again. in retaliation his own hand moves from your waist to slide underneath your (his) t-shirt. he lays a big, open palm on your back, almost supporting you as you sit on top of him.

you two kiss for what seems like days but is only a few hours. oscar can tell from your kiss bitten lips. he smiles at your tired and glassy eyes as you tell him you’re tired.

you end up with your face pressed against his chest and your legs tangled up with his, your feet touching his somehow. you mumble into his chest, but oscar misses it.

“what, pretty?” he asks, a hand scratching gently at your scalp to help lull you to sleep.

“said night osc.” you tell him, a little louder this time. he grins at your tired voice.

“oh. sorry, g’night pretty girl” oscar must be too late though as he feels your breath even out. he sighs to himself, his hand still moving. there’s no way he was getting sleep any time soon. mind racing around the fact that he could be doing this every night with you, if he just told you.

your touch, your kisses, every night. oscar loved seeing you free tonight. he wanted that for you everyday. there was definitely a conversation to be had tomorrow.

[247-diaperboy]

Diapered Pledges

“Bro, check out these fucking pledges. We have them in diapers this year. Fucking hilarious.”

Matthew stared at his frat brother Tim’s phone of the new pledges.

“Those aren’t diapers. They’re pull-ups,” he said as he sipped a beer.

Tim put his phone down, looked at his buddy strangely. “What?”

Now Matthew went silent. Fuck.

“What?”

“You said they’re not diapers, they’re pull-ups. Okay? What the fuck’s the difference?”

“Nothing. No, you’re right, they’re diapers.”

“You seem really knowledgeable about what and what is not a diaper, buddy. Why is that?”

Matthew scoffed. “Come on, I just, it’s nothing.”

Fucking Tim. Always was a ballbuster. He knew Tim was just shitting with him – right? – but he had to nip this in the bud too.

“Yo. Tell me now why you know the difference between diapers and, what was it, pull-ups? Or I tell all the other brothers I found you wearing diapers.”

“What? Fuck off, man, you did not.”

“You’re right. But I will tell everyone and they will believe me. So, buddy. Answer me.”

“Everyone knows. Those are, just, like, you can see those are, like, slimmer and shit. I don’t know, I saw a commercial once.”

“You saw a commercial. That explained the difference between adult diapers and adult pull-ups. And you stored that information in your brain for just this occasion. And, hey, why you blushing?”

Was he, Matthew wondered? He did feel a bit flush, which happens to diaper fetishists when people start to know their secret.

“Just drop it, it’s funny. They’re in diapers. It’s cool, love seeing the pledges humiliated.”

Matthew felt Tim still staring at him.

“All right. I won’t tell the brothers. Gonna email Katie though and tell her I can’t keep a secret anymore that I found adult diapers under your bed.”

Katie, his girlfriend. Tim wouldn’t. “Come on, dude. Stop it. Stop fucking with me. If anyone has a weird thing it’s you.”

“Sure. Diaperboy. Matthew the diaperboy. Mr. Diaper Encyclopedia. Diaperboy Matty.”

Horrifically, Matt felt himself getting hard under his shorts. All this talk of diapers. And exposure. And his girlfriend finding out. and being taunted and bullied by a frat brother. Of course he’d squirted into his Pampers many times imagining his frat finding out, maybe turning him into a frat baby, keeping him in a crib, outing him to the college as a diaper-wearing faggot. Making him wear soiled diapers to class. But that was fantasy. He didn’t actually want it. But did his cock?

Tim was now smiling at Matthew. “Diaper. Boy.”

With that Tim reached over and felt his frat brother’s cock.

“Hey, fuck off!” Matthew yelled.

Tim burst out laughing. He’d felt the hardness. He shook his head. “Diaperboy Matthew. Diaperboy Matthew. My little diaperboy all grumpy? Huh? Need a diaper change? Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you have diapers and not pull-ups. Oh yeah, I gotta tell the guys this.”

With that he bounded away. Matthew sat there, terrified. Afraid of what was to come. His cock had given him away. Where would it lead? Him being paraded around sororities in his diapers, sucking a paci, his frat bros holding a leash as they pranced him around campus? That was the thought in his mind as he rubbed his cock and that’s what the other frat brothers saw when they walked in on Matthew. Who would now, and forever more, be known as Diaper boy Matthew.

[simonskitty]

I have a request with Toji. He just seems so hot to me as a perverted man. A college student dating a man that’s old enough to be her father. How every time she invites him over to her apartment she ends up mysteriously losing her panties. He has all these perverted fantasies he wants to do with her. He just loves her so much, with how cute and dumb she acts. How when assignments get too hard for her she cries into his arms, not knowing her crying turns him on even more. Oh how he’s all about sweet talking her, telling her everything’s going to be ok as she cockwarms him..🥲 You’d be such a good writer with making him act so nasty

hehe i had so much fun writing this ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა i made him a teensy bit mean.

cw: mdni, dacryphilia, spanking, mentions of male receiving, mean toji, cockwarming, reader is a bit dumb, legal age gap ୨୧

Any other time you had invited Toji over to your apartment off campus, you’d be the good little girl he fantasized about and got on your knees and pleased him until your shins went numb. You’d suck him off however many times he demanded and swallowed every last drop with a sweet smile on your lips to show that you were his for him to mess with. Toji patting your soft cheek, flushed and soaked with the tears your eyes had bled, would then send you to the bathroom to wash up before bed.

You’d be so caught up with examining the bruises left on your knee caps, you didn’t even question what Toji would be left doing back in the bedroom. Stealing your panties, stuffing them in his jean pockets which were left laying on the floor.

And you were just so dumb and clueless that you had not a clue about what Toji was doing, that he would dig through your dresser drawers just to find some soft jack off material for later. Nope—not a clue.

Just like any day after a long day of classes, the first thing you wanted to do was go home and see your boyfriend. Send him a text—or not—you already gave the man a key. But, instead of you all dolled up and pretty waiting for Toji at the door as usual routine, Toji found you a mess in your room, gripping your pen so tight he thought you might break it, along with your poor tiny fingers.

Turning your head to the crack in your door, seeing the familiar gaze of his eyes watching you on the verge of a mental break makes you violently sob, finally letting loose the aching feeling you’ve had all afternoon.

Of course, Toji couldn’t see you cry like a little baby when he was right there to comfort you—he was your boyfriend after all. So, he powerful grip was softened when his bulky arms surrounded your weak body, shaking helplessly like a leaf in the autumn wind. Just one step on you would make you crumble into bits and pieces; he wish he could be the one to do it.

You were pulled up from your desk chair, being plopped into his lap for some extra cushion. Your tears were the only thing left on the brain, along with the countless assignments your professor had given that were due in less than a weeks time—and it had you in a panic. Toji knew his baby well enough to know the problem—and knew how to make you feel better too.

Toji hated seeing you cry at the expense of your silly teacher, one he had no respect over. Though he did thank him silently in his head that he was able to see your pretty tears coming from those big wide eyes that stared up at him, like you were just asking to be treated like the vulnerable thing you were. You were just some cute fussy baby that he had the opportunity to take care of.

Your chest rises up and down as you sputter the words out to explain your hysterics. “Gotta calm down before you speak, baby.” Is all he had to whisper into the crown of your hair for you to slowly take control of your emotions—which made him a bit disappointed inside. “There ya go, good girl.” His praises calmed your soul.

“I’m just—just so overwhelmed and I can’t understand I thing about what was taught today in class!” Your voice is as whiny and uneven, a tone that didn’t make your boyfriend feel anymore pitiful towards you—no, only made his dick harder in his sweats.

“Nuh uh.” Toji shook his head, making your furrow your eyebrows in pure dumb confusion. “My baby doesnt let some stupid little assignments get to her, nope.”

You open your mouth to protest and try to explain how truly difficult this was for you, but his finger is pressed firmly to your lips that make the words die on your tongue. “Be the smart girl I know you are and finish your homework.” He turns your chin back the the desk where your papers are sprawled out, stains of previous tears left on the worksheets. “Or is my baby too dumb to accomplish a measly little task from her teacher?” There’s mock confusion in his expression which threatens more tears to bubble up to the surface.

You shake your head quickly, biting your bottom lip harshly in protest, lips turning downward as your face contorted in hurt. “No! I’m not a dumb girl!”

He hums in fake contemplation. “Are you sure? Cause you sure are acting like it.” His words causing soft tears to finally be released. Setting your palms flat on the desk to regain composure and prove that you could get this done. “Maybe you just need a little motivation from me, yeah?”

Now, Toji’s cock has stuffed you nice and full, keeping you warm and fuzzy inside has you lean over the desk, trying to make out the directions on the worksheets in front of you through your tears.

“I—I can’t focus.” Is all you can manage to choke out as a single tear drops down in front of you, causing Toji to tsk his tongue, and a soft spank to the side of your hip, making you yelp in surprise.

“Yes you can.” He murmurs roughly. “Smart girls focus under any circumstances, and you’re a smart girl. Or are you?” Another slap to your hip, yet this time harsher, making more tears spill from your eyes and down onto the papers below—giving Toji some sick sort of pleasure, cock twitching slightly but not enough to give you any relief.

“I mean, I can’t focus with your cock in me!” You squeal out. The pen in your fingers trembling as you try to make out the directions which seemed to be in a different language at this point.

“You can, and you will.” He grunts. “And don’t even thinking about moving unless you get an answer correct, understood?”

“Why are you being so mean?” Tears turning into soft sobs as you finally answer the first question. He turned your head towards him, calloused thumb wiping the tears that had escaped the brims of your eyelids. He just adored the way your thick lashes clumped together like a pure little doe.

“I’m not being mean—I’m being firm.”

Once he sees that you answered a question correctly, he gives you a well deserved thrust up with his hips, hitting that sensitive part in you that had been buzzing for just the tip of his dick, making you scream out in pleasure.

“More! More!”

“Keep being a smart girl, and answer some questions on that worksheet.” It’s not a request—more like a demand. And you give into that demand just as you always do. Who are you to deny your boyfriend his requests?

So, through blurry vision you try your absolute hardest to answer each question. Sure, to anyone else this would’ve been a walk in the park, simple questions with simple answers to match. But, other people didn’t have to complete the task while their boyfriend was making them cockwarm him, were they?

Five answers scribbled out on the sheet—not written neat enough for your boyfriend though.

“Come on, I know you have neater handwriting than that chicken scratch, baby.” It frustrated you to no end, a strangled groan coming deep from inside you. “You’re okay, you got this.” His words give you slight hope.

Enough so that the next five answers are neater than the first, a pleased smirk left on his lips making you feel warm inside, shifting your hips to give yourself a reward for doing so well.

Toji gives you a reward of his own, allowing you to come on his dick as many times as your body can take before your legs give out completely from under you. And as always he gives you the signal to wash up, a job well done for getting your schoolwork done for the evening. Even if it caused your eyes to be red and sore from the degrading you endured.

He gave you a soft kiss before you scurried away to the bathroom. As always while you were away, dumb and clueless—just how he liked you—he stealthily crept to your dresser, picking out a new black lacy pair. You must of just went shopping.

“Toji! Have you seen where all my old underwear went?” You call out from the bathroom, the sound of running water being followed by your voice, strained from crying. “I keep having to buy more.”

“Washer must’ve ate them, doll!”

Toji helped you through your little meltdown, soothing your tears and calming your fragile body in the best ways he knew how, he deserved a little reward too, right? So, he grabbed two pairs out the drawer rather than one, allowing his nose a little whiff of your scent before stuffing them in his back pockets and joining you in the bathroom soon afterwards.

© simonskitty ➸ likes and reblogs are always appreciated ! ᡣ 𓈒⋅ ⩊ ⋅𓈒ྀིა

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 3 - and you are?

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language

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carrying all 3 drinks, you found your way back to the entrance where sarah told you to meet. a rush of nerves coming over you after the realisation that the most handsome man you had ever seen in your life was not only your new best friends brother, but also the lead singer of city lights. and you were about to meet him.

"y/n!! over here" sarah called for you.

"oh hey guys, here are all your drinks" you passed them around. "so what's the plan?"

"ok so, as you have just found out, rafe is actually my brother" sarah started. "he's asked to come say hey as he saw my story and didn't recognise you."

"what?"

"rafe has to know everyone in my life. over protective brother and that. anyway, we'll wait until the boys have finished packing everything up and then we'll meet them out the back entrance."

"ok cool cool."

"he's just texted me now actually, you ready guys?"

"yea lets go!" kie replies.

you followed the group as they weaved their way through the crowds of people leaving the concert, adrenaline levels hitting high. you've never been in this atmosphere, of course you had been to concerts, but going backstage and meeting the band? you were living out your wattpad fantasies.

you finally got to the backstage area, sarah presenting a badge you didn't know she had "they're all with me" she explained, and the security guard let you through.

you walked through the long corridor until you finally reached a door that said 'city lights'. sarah knocked on the door, and your heart rate picked up, feeling like everything was about to change.

and it did.

rafe opened the door, eyes instantly finding yours.

"and you are?" he smirked, leaning against the framing of the door. "i know most people around here, but can't say i've ever seen your face before. i would remember"

heat flusterd over you with this words, "i'm, y/n. just moved here from obx."

"an outerbanks girl huh?"

"that's me" you returned his smile.

"well now introductions are out of the way" sarah laughed, "should we get going?"

"yea let me get the others. jj, top, you coming?"

two other blondes popped their heads out the door, almost as handsome as rafe. almost.

"kie, john b, bring it in!!" the first blonde, came out with wide arms bringing the two into a hug. "nice to meet you?"

"y/n"

"y/n! well sarah rarely lets us meet her new friends so you must be special" he says as he also brings you into a hug.

"and i'm top" the last boy grins as he shakes your hand. "it's nice to meet new faces, especially when they're as pretty as you"

you giggle at his words, but out of the corner of your eyes you could see rafes breath slightly hitch, like the words didn't sit right for a moment. but before you could turn to look at him, his face changed back to neutral and he was leading everyone out the door.

"i have a quiet bar we can go too, security will follow so hopefully papperazi shouldn't be too bad" rafe spoke as you all followed him out the venue.

a few fans lingered out the back, but you quickly cut your way through and made it to the bar.

you found a table and took your seats, everyone went up to buy their drinks, except you and rafe, who lingered behind.

"so what bought you to new york?" rafe asked you, his head tilting and direct eye contact making you nervous.

"just needed a fresh start." your gaze looking away from him, not willing to tell him the truth, a conversation not needed to have just yet.

"this is a big change then a little beach town. you think you can handle it?" he challenges you.

"what you think i can't?"

"i don't think anything yet."

"hm" you respond, just as everyone starts to return with their drinks.

"let me get you a drink. what do you want?" rafe asks.

"i'll take a rum and coke. thanks"

"no problem sweetheart" he gets up, the nickname leaving your cheeks red as sarah comes to sit next to you.

"ignore him y/n. he'll try to get under your skin"

you laugh in response, "it's fine, i don't mind"

"good." she said with certainty, a hint of something else under her words, like he's someone she doesn't want you with.

someone out of bounds.

rafe returns with your drink and sits down the other side of you, as the rest gather round and pull chairs from other tables to sit.

the rest of the night goes well, learning more about sarah and the people she's introduced you too. becoming close with jj and top, who make light conversation with you and make you laugh, unlike rafe who remains slightly reserved, yet staring at you constantly throughout the night, feeling his gaze like heat on your skin.

as the evening comes to an end, you say your farewells outside waiting for an uber, now knowing sarah and john b live together, kie lives with her other friends you're yet to meet, and the band members all together.

"it was so great to meet you y/n!" jj once again pulls you into a drunk hug "you'll fit in well with us" he grins as he lets you go, the reassurance making you smile as you've bonded with these people.

top does the same, giving you a hug goodbye, as rafe watches you from the side, almost waiting for his turn.

you turn to him, unsure if he was going to go into a hug, which he doesn't, much to your dismay. he half smiles at you and says "i'm sure i'll be seeing you again" "would you like that?" your bold statement taking you, and him by surprise.

"can't give all my cards away" he smugs, as he finally pulls you into a brief hug. "bye y/n" he steps into the car waiting for him, taking one last glance at you.

you hug goodbye to the rest, sarah promising to text you once she's home, and kie and john b thanking you for a great night.

your own uber arrives, now left with your own thoughts and reminiscing about the night. the thought of rafe and how he was to you tonight leaving you puzzled. was he flirting with you? is he like this with everyone? you couldn't deny you felt something their, a slight chemistry only time could tell.

shit just got a whole lot more confusing.

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a/n: aaaaah here is chapter 3, their first meeting. any love on this would be so greatly appreciated as it's my first ever time writing lol so kinda scary

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm @pogueprincesa @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19

(to remain on the taglist, you must interact with the chapters!)

[shepscapades]

looking through your docsuma tag.....love them. wish they had one more combined braincell so they could realize their feelings

HERE'S THE THING THOUGH OKAY the problem is actually that they're both too smart about their feelings. you've got me down a horrible rabbit hole okay let me do my best to explain without being a freak(reading this back over, i failed <3).

Xisuma takes longer to realize, first of all. He's got so much to deal with coming out of s8 and through the beginning of s9 that quite frankly he's really just grateful to have another friend he can count on and trust, and he's so consumed by getting the androids back in working order on top of his actual season 9 plans (on top of Cleo shoving self care down his throat and demanding that he make a better habit of taking breaks and taking care of himself, which takes a LONG time to adjust to, if it can be argued that he ever does) that he doesn't really realize he's developed feelings for Doc until his heart beats him over the head with it randomly one day. Probably sometime in S10. Even then, because of said busy-ness, I think Xisuma has a very hard time getting over the meta-ness of a creator developing feelings for his creation and the selfishness of that reality amidst all of his other responsibilities, and he is likely too scared/overwhelmed to entertain the thought of the feelings themselves, much less the likelihood of reciprocation or the fantasy of a relationship.

Doc, on the other hand, realizes he is developing feelings for Xisuma kind of steadily throughout the course of s9, since that's when they start spending so much more time together in the lab working on androids and improving android tech. As a general statement, Doc is very aware of himself, all of the time. His awareness of the self is very important to his sense of normalcy and control, so any time he experiences a new emotion, he notes it, logs it.

So, while he's very aware of the feelings he's developing as they happen, he doesn't quite put a name to it/realize what it actually is until he talks to Tango and Etho, funnily enough--It's definitely one of those moments where Tango or Etho or whomever are explaining their struggles with the physical manifestations of their... idk, lovesickness-- ie, thirium pump rate irregularities, temperature fluctuations, influxes of feelings they've described as a combination of longing, affection, want, happiness, yearning... and Doc, as the unbiased third party to put 2 and 2 together, explains to them that those are obvious signs of romantic attraction, only very belatedly realizing several hours later that those are the exact symptoms he hasn't quite been able to put a name to. Naturally he's exceptional about being quiet about this realization until he slips up during a maintenance check-in with Tango sometime after, who is not doing well in s9, and Tango (mid romance-ranting) catches the passing of a wistful expression on Doc's face and calls him out for "totally thinking about someone right now" (Teasing aside, tango promises to keep Doc's secret).

So, despite knowing well his feelings before X ever develops his own, Doc is actually very, very careful about them-- He knows more than anyone else how busy Xisuma is. He knows how stressed X is. He also knows Xisuma seems to be more knowledgeable when it comes to emotions and feelings, and despite the clear signs that Xisuma shows interest(?) in him as well, Doc can only assume there is a good reason nothing romantic has happened between them-- he trusts Xisuma more than anything, and he--firmly-- will not breach this trust by acting on something Xisuma does not seem to be ready for (or does not seem to want yet(yet?)). Therefore, Doc is patient, and even though as Season 10 develops and Doc becomes aware of the likelihood that Xisuma could return the feelings, he trusts Xisuma's emotional intuition more than anything. He, painfully, recognizes Xisuma's discomfort (or hesitation), concludes that there must be a missing variable in this equation he cannot grasp, and decides to let Xisuma lead because of it. He will not push farther than he feels Xisuma has.

It's definitely one of those "fell first" "fell harder" type situations I think. I'm normal about them. can you tell

[goosita]

no no billy taking you out on his horse and showing you the reigns but it’s a bit hard to concentrate with him and his wandering hands pushed up behind you

oh my god you don't understand this is peak romantic fantasy for me on GOD

riding around out in the fields with billy because he has a day to himself, and he wants to spend it with you.

and we all know billy loves his horse, and he's so good at riding the animal and taming it. he asks if you wanna go out with him for a ride and you're reluctant at first. of course, this is the wild west. lots of people know how to ride horses, it's a huge mode of transportation. but...you had never spent that much time around them. you lived in town and didn't tend to stray from there, and your interactions with the animals were mostly limited to carriage rides where someone else was in control.

"c'mon angel, it'll be fun. promise," he says, giving you those imploring blue eyes all round and wide. you agreed, knowing that billy would never let anything happen to you. not that you were scared. just a little uneasy, is all.

but then the afternoon comes and he's got you sat comfortably right in front of him in the saddle. his chest is warm and solid against your back, your bum is settled nicely in the cradle of his hips and his thighs, keeping you right there against him. your hands rest on the saddle horn while his arms are resting around your waist, holding the reins.

lady, his horse, wanders around where he guides her. she's a pretty horse, white with speckles and she's very calm. you can tell that her and billy have a quiet kind of trust between them.

"see?" he grins, leaning his head down to peck your cheek. "not so bad, is it?"

and it's not. it's not bad at all, really. you can tell your thighs might be a little sore later from the unconscious way you're clenching them to feel balanced, but this is actually kinda nice. the sun is perched in the middle of the sky, warming the fields and your skin. bugs and wildlife are buzzing around you as you ride, and billy seems so relaxed and content behind you.

"you wanna take the reins for a bit?" he asks, patting your thigh and giving it an affectionate squeeze. he likes to do that, give you these little pets and caresses sometimes. just because he can.

"oh...um....i don't really know-"

"nonsense, it's easy. here." he cuts you off gently, placing the leather reins in your hands. he explains to you what actions the horse will take as cues, and you don't dare do anything but encourage the animal to keep on moseying forward like she had been. billy chuckles softly at your hesitance, but he doesn't make fun. he lets you do what you're comfortable with.

you try to focus on directing lady where you want her to go, but it starts to get harder when billy's hands slide up and down your outer thighs slowly. you know he's probably not trying to distract you or rile you up, but you can't help the way your body and mind react to his touch.

billy rests his chin on your shoulder and hums, some silly little folk tune he must have stuck in his head. you can feel the vibrations of his voice against your back and it makes your tummy flutter with butterflies. no matter how long you and billy have been together, even little things like this make your heart stutter like a lovesick teen with a crush.

"you're doin' great, honey," he murmurs, and you can feel his smile against your cheek where he still rests over your shoulder. it makes you feel better, the praise. you like it when he praises you, even for little things like this.

his hands begin to wander, though, and you're not sure you can stay focused on controlling lady. billy brings his hands up to your hips, his fingers dipping into the waistband of the pants he'd loaned you to ride in. it's not inherently sexual, the way he's touching you. a little intimate to be touched out in the open like this, a little against decorum, but you're alone out here anyway. he strokes your skin softly, adoringly, like he just wants to feel you under his fingertips. as much as you like it, it's too distracting.

"here," you blurt, handing him the reins back. "can't think straight with you around." it comes out more playful than scolding, though, and billy chuckles.

"alright. whatever you want, angel," he tells you, pressing another kiss to your cheek before taking over again.

let's talk about billy, baby!

[chin-chilla-7]

Feast on this Fantasy

Wow hi guys long time no post. But I'm back because I wrote a little fic for myself and wanted to share it! This isn't from any of the fandoms I have listed on this blog since I only just recently got into it: so hello Twilight fandom, I am down bad for Daddy Carlisle so much so that I have written a fic for it. I hope you enjoy!

Title: Feast on this Fantasy Word Count: 3.1k Summary: The reader started their period the day of a date you had planned with Carlisle. You call to reschedule, only for this sweet man to offer to come over anyway to comfort you. Though, things get heated when you reveal to him a fantasy you've had on your mind. Warnings: Period Sex, Being Eaten out on your Period, Reader's Gender Neutral, Carlisle loses a little bit of control.

~~~

Your morning could have gone better. You woke up to your underwear stained with red, your period coming sooner than you anticipated. At least it explained your mood the past few days, but that didn’t make your morning bearable. You had to pause while washing the dishes, doubling over to breathe through the cramps that rippled through your uterus. “Just breathe…” you reminded yourself, gripping onto the sink a little too tightly as you waited for the cramps to pass.

As you stood in the kitchen, you considered rescheduling the date you had planned for the night. Having started your period through the night, you were sure you’d be bleeding through a tampon every couple hours with how heavy your flow is the first day. You straightened up, letting out a sigh. The cramps were enough to not want to go out, it was another thing that your partner was a vampire. ‘Vegan’ or not, he always seemed to notice when it was that time of the month for you, without you having to say anything.

You managed to finish the dishes, letting them dry in the rack. With that chore done, you grabbed your phone, dialing the number and  holding it to your ear. The phone rang twice before the other side picked up.

“Good morning, my dear.”

His voice was enough to bring a smile to your face. “Morning, Carlisle,” you answered, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Did you- is your morning going well?”

“Better now that I get to hear your voice.”

That earned a small laugh from you. If it weren’t for how icky you felt, you probably would’ve been a little more enthusiastic with your response. Carlisle seemed to notice.

“Is everything all right, darling?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah- Well, I’m fine. I just started my period, is all, so I feel… bleaugh, y’know.” It was difficult to express exactly how you were feeling, so the noise would have to suffice. “It’s why I called. I don’t- Well, I want to go on our date tonight. But the thought of going out like this is… not tonight. Another night?”

“Absolutely. I understand, my love. It’s important to get good rest during this time of the month,” Carlisle answered, ever the doctor. “If you’d like, I can still come over. Make you feel a little less… ‘bleaugh’?”

Hearing Carlisle echo the noise you expressed caused you to let out a more earnest laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I think I’d like that.”

“Wonderful. I’ll be over the time we originally decided, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, love.”

“Of course, my dear. Is there anything else you needed?”

You took a moment to consider. “No, I don’t think so. That was all.”

“All right, then. I’ll see you tonight. I love you.”

“I love you too. See you.”

Once you hung up the phone, you felt your body relax. Carlisle had this way of calming you down, even just over the phone. And while you weren’t going on a date anymore, he was still coming over to see you tonight. The thought brought a smile to your face.

Though, you still had the rest of the day ahead of you before your partner would be here for the night. Not wanting to do much, you opted to take a shower, hoping you could wash some of the  icky off. The heat from the water certainly helped soothe your cramps, and your soap helped focus your senses on something sweeter.

You felt a little better as you stepped out of the shower, taking the opportunity to brush your teeth. You also grabbed the motrin from your medicine cabinet. “Nearly empty…” you said to yourself as you took the painkiller. You’d have to get more soon. But for now, this would tide you over.

Most of the day you spent laying or sitting: doctor’s orders, you told yourself. Rest was important, especially on the first day of your period. You had put on some comfortable clothing: sweatpants and a sweater. Not exactly datewear, but you weren’t going on a date tonight anymore. And you were sure Carlisle wouldn’t mind.

You had stopped paying attention to the time, drifting in and out of sleep. It wasn’t until the knock at your  door did you find yourself awake once again. You looked over to the clock, a smile spreading on your face: he was a little early, of course.

You made your way to the front entrance, opening the door to see your handsome vampire partner on the other side. You smiled at him before noticing the bag he held in his hand. “Oh, you didn’t…” you started, a fondness still in your gaze despite the slight protest you expressed.

Carlisle simply smiled, stepping his way inside. “Of course I did,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. Usually he would continue his way inside but this time he stopped beside you, taking a deep breath as if he were breathing you in. His eyes roamed over your features, an intensity in his gaze. It only lasted for a moment before he turned his head away, making his way to the living room. “What partner would I be to not care for my love when they’re feeling icky?”

You stood at the front door for a moment, processing his behaviour. The way he looked at you had you flushing. Though, you moved on for the moment, making your way to him to see exactly what he had brought you.

You stood beside Carlisle, and you noted the way he kept his gaze down on the bag. He was fishing through it, taking out some of the items.

“I got you chocolate,” he said, setting the couple bars on the coffee table. Then his hand was back in the bag, this time taking out a bottle of pills. “Oh, and I remember last month you were running low on motrin so I picked you up another bottle.”

“Oh what-” you said in surprise, sitting down on the couch and grabbing the motrin from his hand. “This is so sweet, what the fuck.”

Your surprise caused Carlisle to smile, finally glancing your way again. “Anything to help relieve your discomfort.” He reached into the bag again. “I also picked up some tampons - I don’t know how many you have left, but I figured it doesn’t hurt to have extra. And I brought your heating pad since you left it at my house last time. I know how much you like the warmth.”

Before he could grab the pad out of the bag, you reached over to grab his wrist. “Thank you,” you started, tugging him to the couch. “But what I think I want most is to cuddle with my partner.”

Carlisle naturally moved upon your request, a smile on his features. “Of course, the perfect medicine,” he said gently, sitting beside you on the couch. You scooted closer, throwing your legs over his lap and wrapping your arms around his torso so you could  nuzzle into him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You comfortable?” he asked and you simply nodded in response, allowing your head to tuck just under his.

While this was a common position the two of you found yourself in when cuddling, you couldn’t help but notice a slight tension in the way Carlisle sat. His grip on you was a little more rigid than usual, and he seemed reluctant to rest his head on yours as he usually did. You lifted your head to look at the other. “Are you comfortable?” you asked back. Carlisle feigned a look of confusion.

“Of course I am. Why do you ask?”

“Well, you just seem tense, is all. Was today a particularly rough day at the clinic?”

There was such a softness in Carlisle’s gaze at your question. He brought his free hand up to brush your hair out of your face and cup your cheek. “No darling, my day was fine,” he said, though it seemed there was more he wanted to say. It took him a moment to find the words. “You’re just… it’s your first day, so your smell is more… potent than I’m used to. That’s all.”

Your head tilted slightly at his answer. It explained his reaction at the door. You managed a small chuckle, a playful glint in your eye. “Oh, so your urges are getting to you,” you teased.

Your words seemed to put Carlisle at ease as he let out a chuckle of his own. “No, they’re not ‘getting to me’,” he answered, shifting in his place, “You simply smell nice. Ah, I mean, I’m not bothered by it.”

“Depends your definition of bothered.”

Carlisle held your gaze for a moment after your comment. His eyes seemed to have darkened at your implication, and yet he simply looked away and let out a small huff in disbelief. “You’re quite the minx, you know.”

A proud grin grew on your features. You took Carlisle by the chin to turn him back to face you. “You love it, though,” you hummed, leaning forward to take him into a sensual kiss. He sighed into it, his hand grabbing onto your hip as he pushed for more. But you pulled away, the grin still playing on your lips.

A slight disgruntled noise escaped past Carlisle’s lips. “Is this your plan for the night? To tease me?”

You breathed out a quick laugh. “No,” you answered simply, looking over Carlisle’s face. You brought a hand up to trace along his jaw. “We don’t have to stop at teasing.”

There was something in Carlisle’s gaze for a moment: a wanting, a needing. He looked to you expectantly, waiting for you to elaborate. The hungry look in his eye stirred some heat between your legs. His eyes glanced down, almost like he noticed: maybe he did. You found yourself pulled to continue your thought.

“I’ve thought about… it’s been a fantasy of mine to… for you to eat me out while I’m on my period…”

There was part of you nervous to admit that, unsure of  how the other would respond. And, at the moment, he simply stared at you. His jaw tense and his face unreadable. You were quick to clarify. “But I know you don’t really consume blood or anything so I don’t expect it if that’s not something you-”

You weren’t able to finish because Carlisle cut you off with a kiss. This one was hungrier than the previous, and you let out a surprised whimper in response. As Carlisle kissed you, he carefully maneuvered the two of your bodies so that you were laying back on the couch. Only then did he pull away.

“Being between your legs has been the only thing on my mind since I walked through your door today. I…” he paused, pulling away slightly in reaction to his own words. You reached a hand up to cup his face. He pressed his face against your touch.

“Then let me put your mind at ease,” you assured, giving him a nod.

Carlisle let out the air in his chest, leaning back down to take you in another kiss. This one only lasted a short moment as he moved to kiss along your neck. Your sweater provided little access to your skin, but that was no problem for Carlisle: he simply moved lower quickly.

Usually, your partner took his time in giving all parts of your body attention, but you felt that he was a little excited for this. That was okay: you were excited, too.

Even with his excitement, Carlisle was still careful in removing your pants and underwear. You noticed a slight twitch in his hand now that your legs were bare: the smell even more ‘potent’, as he would say.

Before doing anything more, he looked around, reaching over to grab a few tissues from the box on your coffee table. With the tissues in hand, he then went ahead and pulled your tampon out. You squirmed in anticipation, red flushing your face. Carlisle wrapped the tampon in the tissues and placed it on the table, not wanting to take the time to properly throw it out yet: that could wait for after.

After placing the tampon down, Carlisle noticed a few stains of red on his fingers. His eyes focused on the stain, bringing his fingers up to his nose. He took in a deep breath, eyes shutting closed for a moment as he breathed out a moan. “Fuck…” he murmured under his breath.

Suddenly he was grabbing your legs and spreading them open, moving back on the couch so he  could lean down. Usually he’d say something, talk you through it, praise you. Anything. But right now it seemed his focus was purely on tasting you. You felt his tongue press against your hole, causing you to shudder from the suddenness. “Oh-” you cried out, reaching down to thread your  hand through his hair.

Carlisle, meanwhile, let out a guttural moan quickly after dipping his tongue into you. He gripped onto your legs, keeping them open as he tongue fucked you. The noises he made were messy as he feasted on your blood. You could hear him groan despite your own moans. He usually wasn’t so vocal, but this seemed to be a fantasy you both had had on your minds.

Your grip on Carlisle’s hair did little to deter him. If anything, it encouraged him further. You cried out, legs naturally wanting to close, to wrap your legs around his head, but his strength kept you from being able to do nothing but take what he was giving. Your back arched off the couch as you felt yourself quickly approaching your orgasm. “Oh fuck, Carlisle- Car- Ohhh,” you moaned, bringing an arm up to cover your eyes as you felt your body crash with waves of pleasure. You could feel the way Carlisle used his tongue to work you through your orgasm, but despite your finishing, it seemed your partner was far from done.

You felt Carlisle continue, his tongue pushing in as far as it would allow, greedily eating anything and everything he could. Your body squirmed from the constant sensation, uncovering your eyes to look down at him. He met your gaze, staring up at you intently. You could feel your face heat up at the sight, and you let out a whimper.

“Carlisle, wait, I-”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence when Carlisle cut you off with a deep growl. You hadn’t heard anything like that from him before, but it made your hips twitch against his mouth. Carlisle broke your gaze as he refocused his efforts on eating you out, so all you could do was let your head fall back against the couch and squirm. Whimpers and whines escaped you as you tried to move your hips away from the onslaught of pleasure. Of course, with Carlisle, there was no getting away easy with his strength.

You already felt a second orgasm boiling in your core. You grew short of breath, reaching down to find purchase on what you could. While one hand remained in Carlisle’s hair, he took your other hand in his own. You squeezed his hand, crying out in broken sentences to try to express just how good you felt and just how close you were. It seemed Carlisle got the message  as he doubled his efforts. It was all you needed. You screamed out, back arching off the couch once again as the orgasm ripped through you. “Carlisle!” you called for him, and it seemed that now he had gotten his fill as he sat up, pulling away from you.

You stared up at your partner, taking in the way he looked with blood - your blood - stained around his mouth. It wasn’t something he seemed to notice right away as he crawled over you, leaning down for a kiss. You could taste yourself, but that didn’t bother you. You moaned softly into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him.

When he  pulled away, Carlisle finally realized the state of his face by the way your lips were now covered in blood. He reached hand  up to touch around his mouth, seeing how there was blood. He looked between his fingers and you, suddenly realizing just how he was acting. He looked to  you, nearly embarrassed.

“I may have lost myself for a moment. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

It was your turn to cut him off with a kiss. You pulled him down, kissing him sweetly. When you pulled away, there was a smile on your face.

“Don’t be sorry. That was hot,” you said, and that pulled a small laugh out of your vampire  boyfriend.

“Oh, okay, good. I, uh… well, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, sitting up straight.

“And let’s get you cleaned up, too, yeah? Unless you want to go home looking like that,” you teased, slowly sitting up yourself. Carlisle stopped you, though, grabbing a new tampon from the pack he had brought you. He took a moment to insert it: an intimate gesture.

“Yes, yes. I’ll clean, too. I can only imagine the reaction if I were to come home like this,” Carlisle agreed, shaking his head at the thought. 

“I bet Jasper would love it.”

Carlisle simply shot you a look in response.

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding,” you continued, now sitting up on the couch. You weren’t able to stand up yourself because Carlisle picked you up to carry you bridal style. You hummed happily at that, nuzzling up against him as he made his way to the bathroom. “There anything I can do for you?” you then asked, only for Carlisle to shake his head.

“No, my dear. I can assure you, you have left me absolutely satisfied.”

The way he phrased it made you giggle softly. “Maybe that’s something we should do more often?” you posed, and you could feel his hand twitch against you. He gazed down at you and you could see him swallow. When he answered, he spoke just above a whisper, as if almost afraid to admit just how much he liked it:

“Perhaps we should.”

You smiled, snuggling up against his chest, not caring too much for the mess at the moment: it would be cleaned up soon. “Perfect.”

While your morning could have gone better, it seemed your evening was one to remember.

[fantasy-anatomy-analyst]

I hope I'm not asking too many questions... but I really love the skywhale trope and wanted to hear your thoughts on them?

i think we need more variety of whales in the sky! seems like more people go for a blue whale or humpback whale design on their sky whales, which is fine because they are very iconic whales and i love the way they look. but how about some beaked or toothed whales? flying orcas? a bowhead? i think a sky whale that looked like a bowhead whale would be just wonderful, look at this thing.

(image description: first is an underwater photo of a bowhead whale's face. the top of its mouth is very narrow while the bottom of it is enormous, like a pelican. there is a white patch at the front of its lower jaw with black spots in a line across it. the second image is a detailed illustration of the whale's whole body, comparing it to the size of an elephant and showing the shape of its fins and tail. the elephant is roughly the size of the whale's lower jaw. end description.)

i love this thing. look at that face. the humpback whale may have longer and prettier fins for that sky whale aesthetic, but the bowhead's face shape is delightful. more diversity in sky whale designs!

but of course, the more interesting thought is how exactly to make such an enormous vertebrate work as a flying animal. where is it going? what does it eat? what happens when it dies?

it would be more realistic for sky whales to be smaller, but when people think of sky whales, they want the huge size! it's a fantasy, we want the epic huge flying creatures with their strange singing calls swimming through the clouds. so i'm not going to talk about the more logical small flying whales that go around in flocks to hunt birds (though the idea of smaller flying dolphins is also delightful!) I'm going to just talk about big slow baleen sky whales, the most iconic and desired of all sky whales.

step one: how the heck are these things in the air. it's easier to explain how a dragon can fly, they have big powerful wings. how do whales fly? I think the clearest answer is that they have some form of massive internal air sac full of lifting gas. real life oceanic whales are full of blubber, but maybe sky whales don't have as much blubber and get a lot of their size from their big air sacs instead.

lifting gas is just an umbrella term for any gases that are lighter than the standard atmospheric air. this includes heated atmospheric air, hydrogen, helium, coal gas, ammonia, and methane. (according to wikipedia) and with that list I think we've found our answer. whales are actually even-toed ungulates like cows. they could easily produce a lot of methane with the right diet. they'd just keep it in their air sacs instead of releasing it as a waste material! and for the best production of methane, these sky whales should have multi-chambered stomachs.

This does mean they're probably going to eat a lot of plant matter! so imagine them swooping low to take huge mouthfuls of tree tops! terrifying! maybe their baleen is structured to scrape the leaves off the branches. Maybe they swoop down to kelp forests in the ocean and take huge mouthfuls of that as well. any critters they happen to consume in the process are just bonus snacks full of protein. they likely also consume large flocks of small birds on the go, and probably clouds of flying insects too! locust swarms, for example. watch out for the low flying whales! I think they'd be slow like blimps and mostly use their tails and fins to steer and swoop down for food. they probably also rub themselves on tree branches or mountain sides to scratch their itches. I bet they'd have a symbiosis with many bird species that pick off their parasites.

like cow manure, sky whale dung could be a great source of fertilizer. best to avoid the usual paths of migrating sky whales so you don't end up dead by having giant poop clumps fall on you, but once it's hit the ground, that's free whale manure for every farmer in the area. the lands along the paths of migrating sky whales are probably very fertile, which also serves the whales, since they'll be eating the leafy tree tops! and when a whale dies, falling to the ground, the resulting small earthquake would certainly be startling, and both the impact and the rot process would cause a lot of damage to the surrounding land.

things are not immediately fertilized when a corpse rots. it takes a while! the rot causes more harm at first and then starts to nourish the ground later.

and dead bodies tend to bloat with gases and i have already established that these whales are full of methane. a lot of it would be released at death anyway, and i don't think the whale would drop immediately. or perhaps they fly lower in their old age and just crash land and die slowly. either way, these things are huge and full of methane and then they bloat. which means they might also explode spontaneously as part of the decay process. the air for miles around is going to be so nasty. but i think if you live in sky whale territory, you're just going to have to get used to the stink, because the manure that falls on a more regular basis is also going to be so so stinky.

like real world whale falls, sky whale falls will attract absolutely every carnivorous creature in the area. anything that eats meat will follow that awful stench right to the source and start gnawing away at the thick skin. people will have the easiest time, since they have tools for this beyond just their teeth and claws. the faster the whale is cut open, the less likely there will be an explosive bloat stage, so I'm sure the culture of the region would have some superstitions about leaving a dead whale lying too long. if you don't go harvest that bounty, it will explode and you never know where those chunks will land.

and then when there's only bones, people use em for building all sorts of things! the societies that exist in the paths of sky whales would be very cool to see.

that turned into a ramble and I haven't even designed a sky whale lol. lemme doodle one real quick.

(image description: a sketch of a sky whale, which resembles the aforementioned bow whale, swooping down to munch on trees in a forest. end description.)