#gender moments with sci

[sciderman]

[phagodyke]

weekend melancholy is starting to kick in >~<

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Pollen and Pheromones

Kinktober Day 13: Sex Pollen

Male Alpha Yandere x Gender Neutral Omega Reader CW: Noncon, sex pollen, aphrodisiac, pheromones, knotting, biting, claiming bite, stranded, spaceship crash, sci-fi, outer space, alien planet, a/b/o dynamics, bigotry/prejudice against omegas, rivalry, breeding, general yandere behavior, tsundere, betrayal Word Count: 1.6k (Enjoy this kinktober meal I have prepared <3)

"Star log: This is Pilot 2418 currently operating vessel Starlion: Orion. I am currently on route to pass the threshold of our galaxy in less than five minutes."

You were a shuttle pilot, one of the Exploration Guild's best. Ever since humanity had achieved interplanetary travel, they had sought to extend themselves ever further. With the new drift-space drives, that dream was now a reality.

They were only currently suited for small 1 to 2 man shuttlecraft, and only a couple such craft had been made. Two different ones had been commissioned through the guild, with both pilots competing to see who could exit the Milky Way first. The new drive could only be used in bursts to prevent overloading, so the journey had still taken a few months. But it seemed like you were about to succeed. Then you could make a U-turn and start drift-jumping back towards the nearest station.

Since you were an omega, this was a great achievement, a notice to the universe that your kind could do whatever betas and alphas could. You would be able to help stamp out the lingering bigotry and inspire others all with one action.

You were just about to cross the finish line!

Suddenly, your opponent, Tetsunori, came out of drift-space behind you. He had been your long-time rival, with both of you being about equally skilled.

But this was unacceptable to him as he was an alpha and held to the knothead mindset that an omega's place was bouncing on an alpha's prick or maybe in a teaching or nursing job.

You weren't worried, though. You had a solid lead. There was no way he could close the gap.

You rolled your eyes at the incoming transmission.

"Why don't you just give up now? If you surrender nicely, I'll let you celebrate my victory by letting you keep my knot warm!"

The temptation to reply was too great.

"Ha! You may be good at navigating the stars, but I doubt you have ever found your way into an omega."

Conversing with him hadn't distracted you or made you pause, so he growled as he switched to another plan. He fired on his tractor beam.

What the fuck, was he insane? Stooping so low to make sure you couldn't have a historic moment? You fired an equal and opposite tractor beam through his, which forced him to disengage. Something only possible because both ships were similar in size and energy output. Did he think you were some amateur?

In a desperate bid to prevent you from winning, Tetsunori rammed his shuttle into yours.

This type of bumping wasn't unheard of. It wasn't lethal if both ships were similar and had their shields up. But the bouncing was pretty strong for both parties, which is why it was a last-ditch effort. It could push you past the line, or it could bump him further. Neither of those things happened, though.

Instead, you careened right into the gravitational pull off a planet. You did everything you could to slow down and stabilize, but nothing seemed to be working.

Tetsunori sped after you in his spacecraft as he spoke into the comm link.

"I'm sorry, oh my god, I'm so sorry! I just had to be first! What omega would want to be mates with someone who they bested??"

You didn't have time for his weird ass confession and barely registered it. Your shields were still online and he had started pulsing his tractor beam to slow you down, full usage of it at such speeds could rip your ship apart, thankfully he wasn't an amateur either and knew that.

You put all available power and quickly put it into overloading the shields. You hit the emergency crash button, and two nozzles came out from the sides of the cockpit and sprayed you with a rapidly drying foam that would reduce damage to you if you got flung about the ship. Tetsunori's reckless and speedy entry into the atmosphere may have been enough to save you, but he had lost control of his vessel as well.

As you crashed, he careened away and crash-landed as well.

It was a good thing the high-tech impact reduction foam was so effective. Despite having shields, the ship was still shaken pretty badly, and the inertial dampeners weren't powerful enough to thwart damage from such a landing.

You took stock of the condition of your systems.

Almost everything was fried. You could at least scan the planet. It seemed like you had actually lucked out. In the entire galaxy planets that supported life were incredibly rare. But you had landed on one.

It seemed there were no known biological hazards present. No recognized toxins, dangerous bacteria, or viral agents. You were cleared to remove your suit. The temporary foam had started to dissolve, so it wasn't hard to remove.

The scanner also indicated there was a strong human life sign. It appeared that Tetsunori was okay.

You took the survival kit from underneath your seat as well as some beverages and rations you had procured at the last station and headed in the direction of dust and smoke in the distance.

You didn't even need the ship's scanner to tell you that the great imbecile, Tetsunori had landed there.

As you got closer, you stepped into a field of flowers that surrounded the entire crash site. You were probably still a mile away, but all around you were odd glittery silver and gold flowers.

The smell of them made you just slightly lightheaded and tingly. You realized the tiniest bit of slick was dribbling down your leg. They must be an aphrodisiac. The scanner hadn't warned you of anything in the air that was truly dangerous, so it probably wouldn't matter very much. And it really didn't. For you. As you trudged through the flowers and pollen, the effects did not get worse.

But for Tetsunori, the pollen was much stronger. When it hit his nostrils, it immediately put him into rut. Not a typical rut either, one of the ruts you see in pornos where the alpha is almost feral and unable to control their mating drive. When you came upon him, he was sitting on a piece of debris from his shit and rocking back and forth in clear distress. Through his outfit, his bulge was immediately visible.

"T-tetsunori? Uh... are you okay? D-did you get hurt in the crash?"

You took a step back when he looked up at you. His eyes were red, giving him a demonic appearance.

"The flowers, I think... they... UGH! My thoughts are all jumbled..."

He started to rub and massage his crotch desperately. He finally caught a whiff of your scent, ripe from the recent hike over to him and from being without a proper shower since your last space station stop. Not to mention the smell of the slick the aphrodisiac had coaxed out of you.

He started wildly sniffing at the air.

"Y-you smell so nice. You can help!"

You started backing away slowly.

"Uh... help with what?"

He got up and closed the difference between the two of you. Sweat had his dark hair clinging to his head. He was significantly taller and looked down at you intensely before sniffing and licking your neck with lazy broad strokes.

"S-smell so gooood. Always wanted to knot youuuu~"

You tried to push him off.

"Tetsunori! St-stop!"

You slapped, smacked, kicked, punched, and flailed, but nothing you did deterred him in the slightest.

"I'm sorry, but I fucking n-need this!"

He pinned you to the ground, clawing and biting off all your clothing until only your underwear was left, he removed it more delicately before inhaling its scent deeply and putting it in his pocket for later.

"Please don't do this, Tetsunori, PLEASE!"

He looked down at you, and it seemed like he was genuinely trying to resist before the pollen-charged rut won out.

Tetsunori unzipped his pants and let his drooling cock and full heavy balls out.

"G-gonna put all my babies in you! Have to! Have to!"

The lust-drunk alpha wasted no more time in ramming into you, an insertion that would have been more difficult had the pollen not slicked you up. Though it was still sudden and slightly painful.

"A-aaah!"

You tried to kick at him, but he growled viciously before pushing you into a mating press and slobbering all over your neck with his eager tongue.

The pollen must have increased the potency of his pheromones, or at least your susceptibility to them, because his musk was starting to cloud your thoughts.

Your grunts of pain became gasps of pleasure as your body quickly accommodated to his large size. You winced as he bit down hard on your neck to claim you. He kept right on fucking into you without skipping a beat.

He licked and kissed the lightly bleeding bite mark, some part of him remembering to comfort you despite his dominating need to fill you with cock. And by that point, the last of your resistance finally melted away.

"T-tetsunoriiiiii~" You moaned as your toes curled and body twitched in orgasm.

He growled your name in response and gave a few hard, deep thrusts before cumming as deeply as possible.

A comforting fullness filled your hole as his knot locked the two of you together. He pulled you close as he sat down so that you were in his lap facing him. The two of you caught your breath, then remained in an awkward silence until his knot deflated.

"G-got it out of your system?"

"Yeah... for the most part... sorry about that..."

You lifted yourself off of his lap, his half hard cock springing free with a lewd plopping sound.

"Well... it wasn't your fault. It was just the pollen..."

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into his lap, his cock ramming directly into you, then began humping.

"Well... it wasn't just the pollen..."

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: Queer science fiction, part 1

There is a lot of queer sf out there, and I read a lot of sf. When I started working on this list, I quickly realized it was impossible to include all that I've read and enjoyed in one single rec post. Thus, this is the first of so far three queer sci-fi book rec posts.

A note: queer here does not necessarily mean "guarantee of an f/f or m/m ship with a happy ending", but rather simply a significant presence of queerness. Some of the books feature no romance but has a same gender attracted/trans/a-spectrum lead, or features an m/f relationship with bisexual, trans or aro/ace characters, or simply features a world-building which is heavily queer inclusive in ways that don't always compare to our own ideas of sexuality and gender. I have however disqualified works where the only queer presence is along the lines of "gay best friend" or a blink and you'll miss it confirmation that never comes up again.

Previous book rec posts:

Really cool fantasy worldbuilding, really cool sci-fi worldbuilding, dark sapphic romances, mermaid books, vampire books, many worlds: portal fantasies, many worlds: alternate timelines, robots and artificial intelligences, post- and transhumanism, alien intelligences

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley*

Dietz is a soldier in the war between Earth and Mars - to travel to the battle front, she and her fellow soldiers are broken down into light to be able to quickly travel across space. But something keeps going wrong with Dietz's travels; her memories don't match up with the mission briefs, as she experiences time itself turning in on itself. Is she going mad? Or are the things she's learning skipping through time the truth - and the war that's stealing her life the lie? A mindfuck of a book that's scathing in its critique of fascism and war. Features a sapphic lead but no romance.

A Psalm for the Wild-Built (Monk and Robot duology) by Becky Chambers

Novella. Long ago, robots, upon gaining sentience, simply laid down their work and walked into the wilderness. Long after, a tea monk looking for purpose follows after them into the wilds, where they come across one of the robots seeking its own sort of answers. While not plotless, this story focuses more on character and vibes over plot. Also has a nonbinary main character and features conversations on gender between human and robot.

Meet Me In Another Life by Catriona Silvey*

Thora and Santi are strangers, brought together by a coincidence and torn apart just as abruptly when tragedy strikes. But this is neither the first nor the last time they meet - again and again they encounter each other, as friends, lovers, enemies, family, every time recognizing in each other a familiarity no one else carries. But with every new life, a mysterious danger grows ever closer, forcing them to find out the truth of their connection. This is a puzzle-box of a story that goes some entirely unexpected places in a very wild ride, featuring a bisexual co-lead.

The Archive Undying (The Downworld Sequence) by Emma Mieko Candon

In a world where AI gods sometimes lose their minds and take entire populations down with them, Sunai was the only survivor when his god went down. In the 17 years since, he has wandered on his own, unable to either die or age, drowning his sorrows in drink and men. But his attempts to flee his past comes to a stop as he is forced back into the struggle between man and machine. Featuring some pretty wild world building and narrative techniques, this book will definitely confuse you, but it is worth the experience.

The Paradox Hotel by Rob Hart

January Cole works security at the Paradox Hotel, last stop for tourists heading for the timeport, which allows them to travel to and witness any moment in time. But years of proximity to the timeport has left its damage on January, making her unstuck in time, letting her relive memories of her dead lover even as her sanity slips away bit by bit. As she starts witnessing proof of a horrible crime in the hotel that no one else can see, January must race against her own mind, a killer, and time itself to solve it before it's too late.

A Fractured Infinity by Nathan Tavares

Hayes Figueiredo is a struggling film-maker who wants to finish his documentary, whose life gets turned upside down when handsome physicist Yusuf Hassan enters his life, claiming an alternate version of him is a great inventor who’s sent a mysterious device to their universe. As Hayes gets drawn deeper into the conspiracy - and his feelings for Yusuf intensify - he has to decide just how far he’s prepared to go to win the life and the love he wants. Featuring a very gay and very morally dubious lead, this is a creative and strange read.

Bridge by Lauren Beukes

When she was little, Bridge and her mother Jo used to play a game - one where they traveled to other worlds, inhabiting the bodies of their other selves. Now Jo is dead, and as Bridge is cleaning out her apartment she finds a strange device: a dreamworm, the very thing that supposedly makes inter-dimensional travel possible. Suddenly faced with the possibility that multiverse travel is real, Bridge is struck by a different question: could her mother still be alive? Scifi spiced with a healthy dose of body horror and some absolutely wild twists, Bridge also features a bisexual lead (however this is a blink and you’ll miss it moment) and a nonbinary co-narrator.

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (Wayfarers series) by Becky Chambers

Rosemary Harper just got a job on the motley crew of the Wayfarer, a spaceship that works with tunneling new wormholes through space. With a past she wants to leave behind, Rosemary is happy to travel the far reaches of the universe with the chaotic crew, but when they land the job of a life time, things suddenly get a lot more dangerous. A bit of a tumblr classic in its day, this is a cozy space opera with an episodic feel and vividly realized characters and cultures. While pretty light on romance and focusing found family, there is a main f/f relationship.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

Life on the lower decks of the generation ship HSS Matilda is hard for Aster, an outcast even among outcasts, trying to survive in a system not dissimilar to the old antebellum South. The ship's leaders have imposed harsh restrictions on their darker skinned people, using them as an oppressed work force as they travel toward their supposed Promised Land. But as Aster finds a link between the death of the ship's sovereign and the suicide of her own mother, she realizes there may be a way off the ship.

Ninefox Gambit (The Machineries of Empire trilogy) by Yoon Ha Lee*

Military space opera where belief and culture shape the laws of reality, causing all kinds of atrocities as empires do everything in their power to force as many people as possible to conform to their way of life to strengthen their technology and weapons. It’s also very queer, with gay, lesbian and trans major characters, albeit little to no romance.

The Left Hand of Darkness (Hainish Cycle) by Ursula K. Le Guin

1969 classic. Genly Ai is an emissary sent to the planet of Winter, meant to help facilitate Winter's inclusion in a growing intergalactic civilization. But he's unprepared for Winter's citizens, who spend much of their time genderless or switching between genders, making for a culture wildly different from that Genly is used to.

Too Like the Lightning (Terra Ignota series) by Ada Palmer*

Centuries in the future, humanity has deliberatly engineered society to be as utopian as possible, politically, socially, sexually, religiously. Written in an enlightenment style and featuring questions of human nature and whether it’s possible to change it, and what price we’re prepared to pay for peace, this book is simultaneously very heavy and very funny, and written in a very unique style. While still human, the society presented often feels starkly alien.

The Stars Are Legion by Kameron Hurley

This book fucked me up when I read it. It’s weird, it’s gross, there’s So Much Viscera, there are literally no men, it has living spaceships and biotech but in the most horrific way imaginable. Had I to categorize it I would call it grimdark military sf. It’s an experience but not necessarily a pleasant one.

The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling*

Possibly one of the most unsettling books I’ve ever read, and definitely the most claustrophobic. Gyre, a caver on an alien planet, ventures into the dark and dangerous underground, guided only by a woman who has no compunctions on using and manipulating Gyre as she sees fit to obtain her secretive goals down in the caves.

Escaping Exodus (Escaping Exodus series) by Nicky Drayden

While my feelings on Escaping Exodus were mixed, it cannot be denied that the dynamic between the two leads and the way they go from childhood best friends to enemies on different sides of a class and power struggle is very delicious. It also features some really cool worldbuilding of living, alien generation spaceships and the human culture that has developed inside them.

The Doors of Eden by Adrian Tchaikovsky*

The Doors of Eden is something of an experiment in speculative biology, featuring versions of Earth in which various different species were the one to rise to sentience, from dinosaurs to neanderthals. Now, something is threatening the existence of all timelines, dragging multiple different people and species into the struggle, among those a pair of cryptid hunting girlfriends and a transgender scientist.

Ascension by Jacqueline Koyanagi

Ascension follows Alana Quick, an expert Sky Surgeon who stows away on a spaceship in hopes of landing herself a job. But the ship and its crew are in deeper waters than she expected, facing threats emerging from a whole other universe, all of them searching for the same person: Alana’s spiritually enlightened sister. Undeniably a bit of an odd read, Ascension is also very creative and features polyamorous lesbian relationship.

Contagion (Contagion duology) by Erin Bowman*

Young adult. After receiving an SOS, a small crew is sent on a standard search-and-rescue mission. But what they find are not survivors awaiting help, but an abandoned site, full of dead bodies and crawling with something... monstrous. No romance, but features one sapphic co-lead and one who can easily be read as demisexual (however this doesn't show up until book two, which has more romance).

A Memory Called Empire (Texicalaan duology) by Arkady Martine

Mahit Dzmare is an ambassador sent to the center of the multi-system Teixcalaanli Empire, where she discovers that her predecessor has died. Trying to protect her home, an independent mining station, from being taken over by the empire, Mahit struggles to find out the truth of her predecessor's death while carrying the voice of his ghost in her head, guiding her as best he can. Light on the romance but does feature a sapphic relationship.

The Outside (The Outside trilogy) by Ada Hoffman*

AKA the book the put me in an existenial crisis. Souls are real, and they are used to feed AI gods in this lovecraftian inspired scifi where reality is warped and artifical gods stand against real, unfathomable ones. Autistic scientist Yasira is accused of heresy and, to save her eternal soul, is recruited by post-human cybernetic ‘angels’ to help hunt down her own former mentor, who is threatening to tear reality itself apart. Sapphic main character.

Dawn (Xenogenesis trilogy) by Octavia E. Butler*

After a devestating war leaves humanity on the brink of extinction, survivor Lilith finds herself waking up naked and alone in a strange room. She’s been rescued by the Oankali, who have arrived just in time to save the human race. But there’s a price to survival, and it might be humanity itself. Absolutely fucked up I love it I once had to drop the book mid read to stare at the ceiling and exclaim in horror at what was going on. Queer in the sense that the Oankali doesn't follow human ideas of gender and relationships, which is mirrored in their romantic relationships with humans. It is, however, pretty dark, with examinations of agency and consent, so enter with caution.

Remnant by Kate Genet

One day, Cass wakes up and finds everyone else is gone. Not dead, just gone, leaving her in a world which nature starts taking back with a dangerous, unnatural speed. But as she tries to survive this new normal, Cass realizes she may not be alone after all - but who else is out there, and are they a threat?

The Scorpion Rules (Prisoners of Peace duology) by Erin Bow*

Young Adult. Featuring a dystopian future in which an AI forcibly keeps world peace by holding the children of world leaders hostage. If anyone attempts to start a war, their child will be executed. Greta is one of these children, kept in a school with others like her. But things start to change one day when a new, less obedient hostage arrives. A unique, slowburn take on the YA dystopian craze, also featuring a bisexual love triangle.

Iron Widow (Iron Widow series) by Xiran Jay Zhao

Young adult. Zetian is a citizen of Huaxia, where mecha aliens are constantly trying to breach the Great Wall. To keep them at bay, couples of men and women pilot so called Chrysalises, giant transforming robots. But the pilots are not equal - the women almost always die, sucked dry by their co-pilots. When Zetian sets herself up to become a concubine-pilot, she does so with the plan to assassinate the male pilot who caused her sister's death. Features a polyamorous main relationship.

Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool:

Survival Instincts by May Dawney

Lynn Tanner has been surviving the post-apocalypse alone with only her dog for a long time, trusting no one. But when she's forced to travel the dangerous remains of New York City alongside another woman, her priorities are challenged. Is staying alone really the best way to stay alive?

These Burning Stars by Bethany Jacobs

When con-artist Jun Ironway gets her hands on possible proof of the powerful Nightfoot family, controllers of interplanetary travel, committing genocide, she has in her hands a chance of taking them and their monopoly down. But the family and their allies won't go down easily, and sends two brutal clerics to stop her.

Everfair by Nisi Shawl

A neo-victorian alternate history, in which a part of Congo was kept safe from colonisation, becoming Everfair, a safe haven for both the people of Congo and former slaves returning from America. Here they must struggle to keep this home safe for them all.

[freak-accident419]

Movie Night

Josh Futturman x GN!Reader

Summary: An hour into a movie that Josh practically begged you to watch with him, the two of you end up fucking. Various interruptions occur, but that didn’t stop you from having a great time.

Word Count: 2.6k

Content: 18+ Smut, MDNI, gender-neutral reader, no specific genitalia for reader, oral (m!receiving), riding/cowgirl, missionary, sex on the floor, Josh is a silly nerd, slight fluff, silly sex/goofy smut #3: the silliness, Josh makes you watch an important scene in the middle of sex, you two fall off the bed :3

(A/n: this is my birthday gift to the lovely @wemnui!! ilyily sm girl, i hope this brightens your very special day <3 thank you to @stop-talking for this idea ehehehe :3 and thank you to everyone for your help, support, and love. enjoy!)

-

“I’m telling you, Y/n, it’s the most important movie in the entire franchise!” Your boyfriend, Josh, exclaims eagerly as he selects a film with the TV remote.

“Yeah, you’ve said that, like, a gazillion times already,” you chuckle softly, “I promised you I’d watch it with you already, didn’t I?”

Josh Futturman being your partner meant a lot of things: having to hear his constant video game/movie references, clingy cuddles, spontaneous and unlikely events, and genuine, sincere love. But with the complete Josh Futturman Package (or rather ‘Bundle,’ he preferred), it also came with his reluctant urge to introduce you to and ramble about his dorky interests. And you found it endearing, to say the least, seeing how passionate he could be about multiple things. It was extremely adorable to you to see him rant about the most random things, from epic sci-fi movies to the mediocrity of Super Mario Bros, that you practically viewed it as his own love language. Sure, kisses and cuddles and sex were all great, but you could hear him talk his mouth off about Biotic Wars for several days in a row. Which is what led you to this moment, essentially.

The two of you would frequently spend time indoors for movie nights, snuggled up in your bedsheets in the dark where the brilliant light from the screen illuminated your faces. Tonight, you were watching a movie that Josh had always been excited to show you for a while. The two of you, like always, laid comfortably on your mattress, covered warmly in your sheets as the movie began to play in front of you. Throughout the film, you watched intently, nodding at Josh’s comments, half of the time pretending to comprehend what he was talking about—it got a bit confusing, but you were willing to try to understand it for him.

Halfway into the movie, you felt a bit tired than usual, which made you curious since it wasn’t even that late in the night. Then you figured it was just the bright screen that overwhelmed your eyes. So you shifted your position to avoid falling asleep, yet ended up placing a leg over Josh’s from the side, his thigh now in between yours. And he didn’t notice, of course, as he was too fixated on the screen.

Even the slightest touch had adjusted your breathing. And it hasn’t even been a long time since you’ve had sex with your boyfriend, so you just figured you were turned on by how close you were to him.

Grunting quietly, you needed to pull your leg back to yourself, but instead, you would accidentally and briefly grind your crotch against his thigh.

Even the slightest touch had turned you on.

Fuck this, you thought.

You leaned in, beginning to pepper kisses across Josh’s neck, your lips lingering on the skin.

“What are y—mmmm,” he hums softly in pleasure as he feels you nibble on his sensitive areas, which was sure to leave red and purple marks.

“Baby,” you began breathlessly between each nip, “I’m lovin’ this movie, like, a lot. It’s as good as you’ve claimed, and I appreciate all of your info dumps and adorable little rambles about it, but,” you pant heavily, “fuck… I need you, baby… so bad…” Okay. So maybe kisses and cuddles and sex were just as great as his nerdy rambles.

“Shit—” Josh whined, grabbing your face firmly with his soft hands and pressed his lips desperately against yours.

Moving onto Josh’s lap, you blocked the TV from his view with your body as his hands shifted down to grip your waist. “Mph—” you tried to feel for the remote on the nightstand without breaking the kiss, stretching out your arm, “we can pause it—”

“Babe, I’ve memorized all the piss breaks in this movie.” Josh glances quickly at the TV behind you, then looked back at you. “And thankfully, it looks like we’re not gonna miss anything anytime soon,” he interjects eagerly, encapsulating your lips in a deeper kiss. God, how you were head over heels for this stupid nerd.

You began to help him remove his sweatpants, tugging them off his legs and throwing them on the ground. Your hands caressed his thighs in anticipation, pressing soft kisses to the skin. Your nibbles turned into soft biting then sucking, leaving hickeys as you saw the tight tent in his boxers.

Josh whimpered as you continued nipping his flesh, finally holding onto the waistband of his underwear go pull it off, his hard cock springing out instantly. Grinning to yourself, you began to place your hand over his shaft, slowly stroking him up and down.

“G-god… f-fuck…” Josh moans as his marked up thighs slightly trembled under you, his eyes half-lidded at the sensation. Your thumb reached up towards the pink, throbbing tip, smearing the slick precum around his slit, and gaining another higher-pitched noise from him. Then you finally held onto his plush thighs, squeezing them lightly in your palms as you took his cock in your mouth.

“A-ahh, Y/n—fuck,” he whined, placing his hands in your hair, tugging desperately at the strands as you slowly bobbed your head up and down, letting your tongue run along his length. His cock was the perfect size for you, and you admired him and his body so dearly, making sure that he knew exactly that with the help of your actions.

You pulled off briefly, releasing an arousing string of saliva between your lips and his glistening wet cock. Your hand moved back up to stimulate his length again as you moved your lips down to mouth his balls, licking and sucking at the soft skin. Josh bit his bottom lip intensely before your mouth switched places with your hand once again, wrapping it back around his shaft. “Shhhit—fuck!” He cries softly, now forcing your head down with his grip on your hair, lifting his hips up to thrust harshly into your mouth. You moaned at this, sending satisfying vibrations throughout his entire body, yet also gagged quietly from the sudden control.

He held your head tightly with his fingers tangled in your strands, pushing it down and thrusting desperately into your mouth. “Shit—” he whimpers frantically, his breathing becoming unstable as he let out several uneven pants. “Y/n! Fuck! Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, fuck—!”

The two of you moaned loudly as you felt exuberant ropes of his warm, white semen spurt deeply into your mouth, your nose pressed against his pelvis as you swallowed his entire release. Your lips that were wrapped around his cock continued to move along his length in order to help him ride his high.

“Fuck…” he muttered, pulling off his shirt desperately, then reaching for yours until your clothes were sprawled out messily and carelessly on the floor, the two of you completely naked with each other. Josh positioned you over his lap, lining up his hard, throbbing cock with your entrance. Then you finally sank down on him, feeling his shaft slightly stretch your hole, your walls wrapping around him soothingly.

“Oh, fuuuck,” you moan out, pressing your lips against his passionately, gently cupping his face in affection. Your foreheads were pressed together once you slowly began to rock your hips against his, letting his cock push further and further into you with every deep movement.

“Oh, shit—” Josh whines as your hands find his shoulders, holding onto him for dear life as you moved faster, practically bouncing on his dick. With every moment you sank down, your sensitive parts would grind against his firm pelvic bone, moaning from the pleasing and granting sensation. Your overlapping sounds of lust and arousal created a beautifully lewd symphony. As you rode him relentlessly, he cupped your ass firmly in one hand and grasped at your waist with the other, guiding your rapid movements on his cock.

As your body slammed down against him, his length caressing your sensitive walls with every thrust, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the small room. Your gaze on each other had stilled lustfully as you indulged in the noise of the fast, erotic pounding.

Suddenly, Josh slightly froze, and at the time, you couldn’t tell if he either saw or heard the movie scene from behind you, but he scrambled for the remote and seized your movements desperately. “Wait, wait, wait, fuck!” He whined as he rewinded the film, making you look back at the screen in utter confusion.

“Josh, what the hell—”

“This is the most important part of the whole movie!” He exclaims stressfully, making you pout as you sat vacantly on his cock, his length still deep inside of you.

“Josh—”

“Sh-sh-sh—Just watch!” He hushed, unpausing the movie, increasing the volume before setting the remote down.

A few minutes passed by as the two of you watched in this position.

And then…

“Holy shit!” You shouted in surprise, seeing Josh’s beaming expression. “What?!”

“I know,” he chuckles.

“You’re telling me—You’re telling me he dies?!”

“Yeah—”

“But—But he’s the most important character in the movie! Hell, he’s the main character, I don’t—” you scoff, yet with a slight, amused grin. “I mean, does it really end like that?! Him being killed by his stupid fuckin’ clone?!”

“Well, technically, yeah,” Josh shrugged.

“Shit,” you huffed, raising an eyebrow as the scene continued to play out, concluding with the end credits. Your boyfriend then paused the movie with the remote, looking at you with a soft, anticipatory grin.

“So…? What did you think?”

“That was… awesome, baby,” you giggle.

“Yeah? Wait, wait, seriously? You’re not just saying that because I love it, right?” He stammers before you cut him off with a deep, sweet kiss.

“It was genuinely amazing, my love,” you confirmed warmly.

“God, I fucking love you,” he grins, pushing you down on your back near the edge of the bed, pressing his lips against your mouth and then to your neck. “You’re, like, the coolest person ever,” he mumbles in between each affectionate nip before moving into you again.

“Ah, fuck—!” You whine softly as his cock fills you up again, moving at a much faster pace to begin with. Your legs involuntarily wrap around his back as Josh struggles to push even deeper inside of you. “Ah! J-Josh! H-Holy fuck!”

The bed began to creak and shake violently as the two of you moved together passionately together, striving to be even closer to each other. Your breathless moans filled the room as the sound of his cock ramming into your tight hole persisted.

“O-oh, fuck!” Josh cries as he continued deeply and swiftly ravaging your insides, desperately attempting to reach your sweet spot. His fingernails sink into your hips as you moan, legs tightening around him to bring him closer until the two of you rolled off the bed.

You two fell off the goddamn bed.

Josh was still inside of you, yet you were there lying on top of him. You stared at each other for a while before bursting out in blissful and elated laughter, burying your face in Josh’s neck. “Oh my fucking god,” you wheeze, pressing your lips affectionately to his skin.

“You’re so perfect…” he whispers softly, disregarding the embarrassing moment the two of you had, stroking your hair gently. “How did I get so lucky to have you?”

“Honestly?” You chuckle, lifting up your head to face him. “It was your sad, big hazel eyes and loser, cringefail personality that truly captivated me.”

Josh snickered, grabbing your face gently in his hands to peck your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous?” You scoff lightheartedly. “You’re the one who paused our literal fucking because I missed a scene in that nerd movie.”

“What? I thought you said you liked it,” he pouted.

You kissed his pout away. “Doesn’t mean it’s not nerdy.” You watched him frown and kissed him again. “But you know what? You’re my nerd. I love you.”

He was completely smitten with you, a red blush painted softly over his freckles. “I know.”

A Star Wars reference? Is he fucking joking? “If you don’t say it back, Han Solo, I’ll move off your dick and get off in the bathroom by myself.”

“No, no, no!” He whines, pressing his lips against yours passionately, slipping his tongue in your mouth to deepen it. “I love you too,” he mumbles.

Finally, you sat up, supporting yourself with your hands on Josh’s chest, his cock still snug inside of you. You watched his hands grip your waist as you finally started to move against him, slowly and sweetly this time.

“Fuck…” he whispers, trying to move his hips with yours as his length thrusted in and out of your needy hole. As you began to ride him, his dick would slide so easily and satisfyingly inside of you, brushing your walls with pleasure and warmth.

“Oh, yes…” you moan gently. “Oh, fuck…”

The two of you remained on the floor, your hips beginning to move faster after each thrust. Josh’s back arched as he pushed himself deeper inside of you, filling your hole completely. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“Josh! O-oh! Oh, fuck, baby…” your sweet sounds escaped your lips as your hips slammed into each other in unison, urgently bouncing on his hard, throbbing cock. “Ah-ahhh!”

You felt yourself getting closer, your own thighs trembling as Josh’s movements faltered. You placed your hand on the ground beside his head and lowered the rest of your body down to connect each other’s lips. You tasted him enthusiastically, kissing him with so much passion and lust while your movements began to stutter.

“I—fuck, I’m so close,” you mutter in between hot kisses.

“Mmm—fuck, Y/n, me too,” he whimpers, hips still trying to move up inside of you.

“Shit—cum for me,” you whisper gently as you were about to reach your release, “cum for me, baby…”

And just like that, your low, passionate words sent him right to the fucking edge.

“Ah—Y/n—Fuuuck!” He moaned loudly, arching his hips up as he pressed yours down against him, releasing deeply and heavily inside of you. His hot, thick cum painted your walls entirely, filling up your hole so generously in explosive bursts. The overwhelming, arousing feeling had prompted you to cum immediately right after him, holding his body close and tight to yours as you clenched around him completely. Instantly, your lips were reattached to yours, going limp and collapsing on top of him in exhaustion.

The two of you laid there on the floor, extremely spent, panting heavily and catching your breath. Strands of your hair were stuck to your sweaty foreheads as your heart beat almost rapidly.

“You… You’re amazing…” Josh mumbles with a giddy, flushed smile on his face.

You chuckled in response, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “Silly,” you mutter out, moving your head to rest it on his bare chest, getting a view of his belongings or junk under the bed. And then… “Is that—” Scoffing in awe, you stretched your arm out and grabbed a DVD case. “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Season 4? Babe, wh—”

“Hey, hey, that’s—” he stresses, throwing the case far away and out of your grasp. “That’s uh… That’s not mine.”

“Well, then who’s is it?” You raise an eyebrow with teasing grin.

Josh pauses then groaned in utter defeat. “Fine! Fine, it’s uh… it’s mine.” Before you could laugh or make another comment, he interjects, “But you don’t understand the very complicated and intricate lore of the whole series, okay? Sure, it seems like any other children’s cartoon full of mindless fillers and fluff pieces, but there’s so much more than that! Arguably, those ponies have gone through so much hell, and it’s like—you know?”

You smirked playfully, cupping the side of his face with one hand. “So what, are you gonna start forcing me to watch the whole series too?”

“No! No… I mean… It would be cool—but no!” He stammers hesitantly.

Your eyebrows relaxed as your grin widens. “Yeah, well… doesn’t matter either way because I already watched the whole series.”

His eyes widened, almost comically.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you nod.

Josh pauses then let out a loud, yet delighted groan.

“Fuck, how could you get any more perfect for me?!”

[rambling-at-midnight]

omg a part 2????

i loved it so much!!!

Ahh I'm so glad you liked it!!! It's my first Jason x reader fic :) Here's a part 2!

Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks (Part 2)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Civilian!Reader

Summary: Now it’s time for a meet-ugly-ish with some dude named Jason. Also, you see the Red Hood again.

Word count: 6.3k (holy shit)

You’re not crazy, right? It’s weird that the library is completely empty because it closes in two hours and the weather is actually nice outside for once, and some random dude wanders in and sets up two seats down from you. He’s not even here to study; he pulled out a sci-fi novel as soon as he sat down.

Who comes to a GCU campus library to read recreationally? The seats are uncomfortable and plastic. And the sun is shining. Everyone else is outside soaking up the Vitamin D.

Honestly, you’re mostly surprised the chair he’s on didn’t snap as soon as he sat. The dude is huge. Football player huge. Shouldn’t he be at practice, instead of forcing the chair to make the most irritating squeaking noises known to man every time he moves an inch?

You grit your teeth and put on your headphones, but you can still hear the poor chair’s dying lamentations, so you turn on an instrumental playlist that hopefully won’t distract you too much from studying.

You let yourself stew over the annoyance until your stomach growls so loud you hear it over the soft music. He has the good grace not to look at you, but you definitely see him pause.

Okay, you’ll call it even. This is what you get for running to the library right after six hours of classes. You need to cement the knowledge in your mind while it’s still fresh, and if that means you have to forego lunch…

He’s still there two hours later when the closing time alarm goes off. It’s a shrill old-school bell, the kind no one can ignore, and he jumps like he’s never heard it in his life. The poor chair finally gives up. He tumbles to the ground.

You look over in case he needs any help, but he’s scrambling for the book, face bright red.

If he is a football player, you wouldn’t be surprised that he’s never heard the bell before. That sort rarely stays this late at the library—if they enter at all.

He rushes out. You pack up a little more methodically. All that’s left for you to look forward to tonight is trying to study in your apartment, but you never have much luck.

He’s outside the library on his phone when you walk out. Maybe waiting for a ride? You’re a little on edge from the events of two days ago, so you watch him out of the corner of your eye as you walk away.

Thankfully, he doesn’t follow you.

At least the library closes earlier on Wednesdays, 6 pm instead of 9:30. You don’t know why. It’s still a weekday. But it forces you out while the sun’s still shining, which is probably a good thing.

Within two minutes of the twenty-minute walk home, your hip hurts. By the ten-minute mark, you’re trying not to limp.

Despite your better judgment, you keep your gaze turned to the rooftops, even though you know the vigilantes are nocturnal. It’s stupid to want to see a flash of red helmet, anyway. The Red Hood probably saves hundreds of people every week; there’s no way he would remember you.

Of course, when you finally get back, there are the stairs to contend with.

Your cat, that ungrateful little beast, beeps at you furiously for being gone so long. Never mind that your roommate works nights, so at most the cat’s been alone for an hour. He makes a break for the hallway, and you box the doorway with your legs and slam the door closed against your hip as you slip through.

Your injury explodes with pain, but at least the cat doesn’t get out. Ungrateful little beast. As if he isn’t fed and loved enough.

You finish slipping through the doorway and just stand for a moment listening to the blood rushing through your ears. Damn, but that hurt.

In the bathroom mirror, you hike up the hem of your shirt and check the state of your injury.

All in all, it could have been much worse. The bullet scooped out a fair chunk of skin, but it was just a surface wound. There’s no fresh blood on the gauze, and when you change the wrappings, the skin is pink and raw but starting to scab. It scooped out a chunk and left a trail of bruising, but you got off fairly lightly, all things considered.

The GCPD released the robber’s mugshot yesterday morning. In the picture, the man’s eyes were so swollen from your pepper spray he could hardly open them.

You preferred the bullet, honestly.

You try in vain to study a bit more, but even after you take more painkillers, you’re not in the mood. You feed your cat, then curl up on the couch to watch a couple episodes of the show you’re currently in the middle of.

That was the first time you see the huge guy, but it’s certainly not the last.

You wouldn’t notice him so much if he wasn’t the size of a damn refrigerator. He’s gotta be a linebacker for the Knights, but he’s not on their roster. You looked it up after the third time he wandered into the library just a couple minutes after you. It’s probably not updated yet, but you see him so often, you’d like to know his name.

Also, he’d bleached a patch of hair right at the front of his head—was that a trend now, or something?—so it wasn’t hard to spot him.

On Saturday, your feelings shift from mild annoyance and curiosity to a sinking sort of dread when you notice him at the coffeeshop you always visit on the weekends. The employees know you by name and use it to call out your order, so now he knows it, as long as he’s paying attention.

You think he might be.

You don’t want to be that person. Not everything in the world revolves around you, obviously. But you might still be shaken from what happened on Monday, because the thought wiggles in the back of your brain: what if you have a stalker?

You try to tell yourself that it’s just paranoia. GCU isn’t that big a campus, after all, and there are only so many places in the city that are: A. close to campus, B. reasonably priced, and C. comfortable to work in. You’ve run into classmates here before, and you don’t have a monopoly on the library or this coffeeshop. Just because he shows up at the same time you do doesn’t necessarily mean anything. He might be establishing a schedule that just so happens to line up with yours.

But, you have to admit, it is easier for stalkers to stalk people when they know their regular schedule.

You keep a watchful eye out and are pretty good about keeping off the streets after dark, but a week and a half later finds you stranded an hour’s walk from your apartment. The buses worked for two days, then shut down again, and you foolishly believed that following the detour that said would get you home would actually get you home. You don’t want to call an Uber because traffic would make the ride longer than the walk and bankrupt you in the process. Same reason you can’t call anyone to pick you up unless you waited the two hours until rush hour dies down.

Walking is, unfortunately, the best option.

So you clutch your trusty pepper spray and prepare yourself for a long night of looking over your shoulder and ignoring the pain in your side. The wound has mostly closed, although the bruising has gotten worse.

Three minutes later, you hear the roar of a motorcycle followed by angry car honks. You barely pay it any mind until the motorcycle pulls up next to you and doesn't pass.

You keep walking, avoiding eye contact. Maybe ignoring them will dissuade the rider from catcalling you.

It doesn't work. "Hey," the rider says, and it's only because the voice is mechanically distorted, recognizable only because of how many videos of him that you won't admit to looking up the last week, that you look at him. "What are you doing?" asks the Red Hood.

"What are you doing?" you counter. He's blocking the flow of traffic talking to you.

The Red Hood looks over his shoulder, flips off the person honking behind him, and steers his motorcycle onto the sidewalk. He drives fast, and you flinch in case he tries to run you over, but he screeches to a halt at the last second.

"Haven't seen you in a couple of weeks," he says casually, like you two meet up often.

"I've been staying out of trouble," you say.

"Not tonight?"

"No. That wasn't my fault, though. I took the Southwest bus because it was supposed to connect with the L line, but all the signs they posted were a lie, apparently, because—" You cut yourself off. "Never mind, I'm sure you don't care. Point is, I'm walking home. It's not too far."

"It's about an hour," he points out. "How's your bullet wound? Will it object to that walk?"

"I'll be fine."

He pats the back of his motorcycle seat. "Hop on. I'll drive you."

You take a couple hasty steps back. It may not be a white van, but you know better than to follow candy into someone's vehicle. "Oh, no, thanks. Traffic's pretty bad right now."

You get the sense he's smiling when he says, "I bet I can get you back faster than walking." If only he wasn't wearing the stupid shiny helmet, you would be able to read his expressions better.

"Really, I'm okay. I'm sure you have better things to do than drive me home."

"Helping people is literally my job," is his response. "I have to make sure you get home safely. So either you get on the back of my bike, or I follow you the whole walk back to your apartment."

You know a losing battle when you see it. As a general rule of thumb, it's usually smart not to argue with the dude carrying at least two guns. "Don't kidnap me," you order before slinging your leg over the seat.

He chuckles. It's the first time you've ever heard him laugh, and it makes him sound so much younger. "You can't ride like that."

"Like what?"

He cranes his neck to look back at you. There's at least six inches between both your bodies. You clutch the sides of the seat with both your hands, hoping he doesn't take off with such a lurch that you topple off the back. "I drive fast. You'll have to hold on."

"I am holding on."

"To me."

You've only met the man twice. You're pretty sure clinging to someone's back is at least a third-meeting type of touch, but he reaches back. The Red Hood snakes a hand nearly twice the size of yours into the crook of your knee, then yanks you to him. You shoot forward with a strangled yelp and catch yourself on his back.

You've never before understood the phrase 'wall of muscle,' but you get it now.

He is huge. And strong. You gingerly put your hands on his shoulders. That's not an inappropriate touch, you think.

He has to live at the gym, right?

"You're still not holding on," he chides. "I don't have a helmet for you, so you really shouldn't fall off."

You swallow and move your hands, but he's too thick for you to link your hands around his front. So you fist both of them into his jacket. It presses your bodies tight against each other from shoulder to thighs. Through the layers his body radiates heat, but you shiver.

"Going," is all the warning you get.

Then you're gone; the bike shudders beneath you, then takes off like a jet.

You can't catch your breath. This must be what riding a dragon feels like, is your first nonsensical thought, a side effect of your roommate's obsession with Game of Thrones.

The bike roars beneath you, but you can hardly hear it over the rush of wind and the pound of blood in your ears. You can't see much with the wind drying out your eyes, so you press your head against the Red Hood's back and squint to one side. Cars and street lamps blur together into a stream of mismatched lights and colors.

The Red Hood drives fast. He weaves between lanes, runs through red lights, cuts onto the sidewalk. A couple bikers shake their fists at him when he passes them in the bike lane. A lot of cars honk at the two of you.

Judging by the way his shoulders shake with laughter, he likes pissing them off. You have to admit, the feeling is a little intoxicating.

You can't hear the sound, but your front is plastered to his back. Even with the layers of his suit and leather jacket, you can feel the vibrations of sound deep within his chest. He has a fairly deep voice, after all, unless the helmet changes that.

No less than ten minutes later, he parks abruptly. You lift your head, blinking moisture back into your eyes, and stare dumbly at your apartment building.

He'd actually brought you back.

Maybe he really was reformed.

You stumble off the bike onto unsteady legs. The Red Hood kicks his stand into place and rests against the bike, leaning with elbows on his handlebars. Like he expects a Midwest goodbye. And you find yourself dawdling.

Maybe you want one, too.

"Thanks for the ride," you finally say awkwardly.

"Anytime," he says, and you laugh, thinking it's a joke, but he doesn't. After a brief awkward pause, the Red Hood tries, "So how have you been?" as if you're old pals meeting up for brunch, and the question is so ridiculous coming from a sort-of-reformed crime lord slash serial killer that you respond without thinking.

"Pretty good, except I think I may have a stalker."

His helmet doesn't do a great job translating whatever sound he makes in response to that. It comes out as a crackle. "What?"

"I've noticed this dude recently showing up wherever I go," you say. "But I think it's just a coincidence. Sorry. That was a bad joke." It wasn't, but you don't want to accuse someone without proof of stalking you. If he's not, you'll seem self-obsessed. If he is, then he knows that you know, and it's not like the GCPD will do anything. One of your friends from your hometown had a stalker for literal years, and the police never did anything, even after he sent her death threats. They said there wasn't enough proof to make an arrest then, so someone showing up at the same places you are definitely isn't enough proof now.

The Red Hood tilts his head. "Does he make you uncomfortable?"

"You don't need to beat him up or anything on my behalf," you say. "I mean, you've seen me with a bottle of pepper spray. I'm pretty sure I can handle myself."

"I know you can," he says. You can hear the smile in his voice, like he finds something about the situation funny. "And I'm pretty sure that you know that I'm going to check this out anyway."

"No," you say, surprising yourself with your firmness. You can't rely on vigilantes to solve all your problems for you. "Seriously, it's okay. Thanks for the ride. Maybe I'll see you around."

"I'm counting on it," he calls as you walk away.

And he's right. Two days later finds you at the gas station at ten-thirty at night. You don't want to see him, per se. You're definitely not looking over your shoulder at the slightest sound. You definitely didn't check the parking lot for a notorious red motorcycle on your way in, and you certainly aren't taking peeks out the window every time headlights pass by on the street.

You're just... curious.

Maybe.

But you have absolutely no warning, not even a suspicion that someone is behind you, when you reach for a box of Cheez-Its. Someone else's hand gets there first and you nearly jump out of your socks.

"Hey," the Red Hood wheezes. He's clutching his side like he has a cramp. "Question: if I buy these for you, will you patch me up?"

"What?"

"I may have been cut," he admits. Judging by the angle of his hunch, it's a little more serious than just a 'cut'. "So: do we have a deal?"

The thought occurs to you, as you help him up five flights of stairs to your apartment, that you're escorting a strange man into your place of residence. You haven't even given your roommate a heads-up, though you're pretty sure tomorrow's his night off.

Sure enough, the only person there to greet you when you walk in is your cat. As per usual, he tries to escape. The Red Hood gently but firmly ushers him inside with his foot with such ease he must have one of his own. "It's cute," he says, still clutching his side.

"Thanks," you say. "He always tries to get out, but if he actually escapes then he just freezes in the hallway until I bring him back inside." Then you realize that you're discussing your cat, of all things, with the Red Hood. You clear your throat and say, "Let me take a look at you."

The crime lord and cat trail after you into the bathroom. It gets a little cramped because the Red Hood's about as small as a fridge is small, but you two figure out a passable system: he's too tall, even while sitting down, and you don't want to bend in half while you stitch him. So you sit on the toilet, he stands in front of you, and your cat jumps on top of his leather jacket on the counter to observe and judge. Luckily, the suture kit is still in the bathroom from when you thought you would have to stitch yourself up, so it's not long before you're instructing him to lift up the hem of his shirt so you can see the damage.

You hiss between your teeth at the sight. Someone grazed his side with a knife, by the looks of it, but the wound is deep. It might go all the way to his subcutaneous tissue.

After you clean it off, you're sure that it does. "You call this a cut?"

"I've had worse," he says gruffly.

"And you're still alive?" You squint at him.

He huffs like that's funny.

"They basically cut you in two! I don't know if I can fix this. I've never stitched someone up before!"

"What do you mean?" He tilts his head. "You stitched yourself up, remember? You told me you would."

Shit. Of all the ways to stick your foot in your mouth—

"It wasn't that bad," you say weakly.

“It looked pretty bad.”

“It just looked bad because I was wearing a light colored shirt. Don’t worry; I’ve learned my lesson.”

The Red Hood scratches under your cat’s chin. “About wearing light colored clothing, or about getting shot?”

You’re trying to thread the suture needle, but the stupid thread won’t cooperate. “Hmm?”

“Which lesson did you learn?”

“The former, mostly. Believe it or not, ‘try not to get shot’ is something most people, including me, know intuitively.”

"Let me see."

"Yeah, right," you say, "my apartment's basically a strip club, isn't it? First your shirt's coming up, then mine. Absolutely—" You slap his hand away— "Not. I'm fine. Now hold still while I stab you."

The process goes by quickly. He stands like a statue the whole time, like he's used to the pain of getting stitches. Considering his profession, he probably is.

Actually, you can see a couple healed-over scars on his torso just from the small bit of skin he's revealed by pulling up his shirt. And, you're pretty sure, a perfectly defined six-pack, but that's none of your business.

"I don't have the fancy dissolving sutures, unfortunately," you say while you tie off the thread. "These should come out in about a week."

"Yeah, I know," he grunts, letting his shirt fall back down. And you're not disappointed. At all. "Same time next week, then?"

"What?"

"To get them out."

"Uh." Your brain stalls out. You'd been operating under the assumption that this was just another freak coincidental run-in.

Is it just you, or is the Red Hood looking to make a friend out of you? Or maybe just a free pseudo-surgeon?

"Sure," you say. It's not like you can stop him, really.

"Thanks," he says, stroking your cat one more time. Then he nudges the pest off his jacket and shrugs it on, even though there's not really a need for it. The weather's been pretty mild the last week.

You walk him out the door. He pauses in the hallway, turns, and says, "By the way, what's your name?"

You tilt your head and tell it to him.

"Nice to meet you," he says. Then he walks away.

You watch him walk down the hallway until your cat escapes, and then you have to chase him. You're pretty sure the Red Hood sees it, because low-pitched laughter hits your ears as you gather the little bastard up, but when you look, the vigilante's gone.

"God, I hope he's up to date on his tetanus shot."

You find yourself at the coffee shop the next morning, determined not to let a buff bookworm change your routine. You're the first customer, and they have your order ready by the time you finish setting up your stuff on a small table in the corner of the shop, far from where the line will build up when more people trickle in.

Like clockwork, the bookworm wanders in just a couple minutes after you do, orders two coffees, and settles down across the room with his front to you.

Every time you glance up, he's utterly focused on his book. He's probably not watching you. Right?

Fifteen minutes later, the coffees untouched, he stands up. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he picks one up, approaches the counter, and...

Walks right past it.

Walks in your direction.

You stare blatantly, and he holds your gaze with a set jaw and something a little challenging in his gaze.

He's walking to you.

The coffee cup slams on the table, splashing a little over the edge, and you jump to move your laptop away from the liquid.

"Shit, sorry," the bookworm says. He runs away.

You stare until you realize he's grabbing napkins and hurrying back. At least ten, even though the spill's pretty small, and he piles them all onto the table.

His face gets redder the longer you watch without saying anything.

Once he's absolutely sure your laptop is safe from the couple drops he spilled, he balls them all into one large fist and rushes out, "I'm sorry—I was supposed to meet my brother here, but he canceled, and your drink cup's empty, so I was just wondering if you wanted this one? It's a little warm, but..."

"But free is good," you say, deciding to put him out his misery. And he certainly looks miserable rambling in front of you. Like he's mortified for some reason. "Um, thanks. What..."

"Just an iced coffee. Probably watered down."

You take a sip, just to be polite. It is watered down, but he didn't add any milk to it, so that's probably a good thing. "Thanks..." You tilt the cup to look at the name written on the side. "Jason?"

"Yep." He nods. He's still standing in front of you, like he wants to be invited to sit, but you have a lot of work to do, and he's a complete stranger, and all his stuff is still on his table across the room.

Something clatters behind the counter. You both turn in time to see the two baristas duck out of sight, whispering furiously. Probably about the spectacle you two are making.

"You go to GCU's campus library a lot, right?" Jason asks suddenly.

"Yeah, I do. So do you." You don't phrase it like a question.

"Yeah," he says. "It's peaceful to read in there. Quieter than my apartment."

"Okay," you say slowly. You're really not interested in this conversation, but you don't want to be rude.

He must understand you, though, because he rubs the back of his head and steps backwards, mumbling something about getting back to his book.

Jason's brother never does end up meeting him. You tell yourself that's why you keep glancing at him. Once or twice, you two peek at each other at the same time, and you always look away first, face hot like he's caught you doing something wrong.

The next time you go to the library, it's packed. The weather has turned, so students have nothing better to do than prepare for their finals. You head to the quiet floor, slowly losing hope that you'll find a seat.

A head snaps up the moment you walk in, dark-haired with a striking streak of white at his forehead. Jason.

Something like relief passes over his face, and he waves you over.

"I saved your seat," he whispers, dragging his bag off of the chair.

"Thanks," you say, actually touched. "You didn't have to."

He shrugs. "You're my reading buddy."

The next day, he's sitting at the library's entrance when you walk in. Jason shakes his head. "All the seats were already taken when I got here."

"Ugh." Strictly speaking, you don't need to study tonight. You're pretty confident about the next test's material, and you're also pretty burnt out.

"We could check out the Student Center?" he suggests. As if it's a given that the two of you are going to spend the afternoon together. And, you realize, after two straight weeks of studying in his proximity, you don't mind the presumption. That's how you made your closest friend in undergrad, anyway.

In fact, you think you might want to get to know Jason. Maybe ask about his white streak; you've been growing more and more curious about it. And why he's about seven feet tall and two hundred fifty pounds of muscle but has a passion for romance novels.

"I don't think I've studied in there before."

"It's not too bad, but it's a little louder than the library."

So you two head to the Student Center, but he doesn't open his book, and you open your laptop but don't turn it on. He buys you coffee, though you insist that you can pay for it yourself, and a simple query into what book he's reading currently turns into a two-hour conversation.

Jason likes to read every genre, but he likes classics and romance best. He doesn't just have one brother, he has four, and a sister. He's not on the football team like you'd assumed; he just likes to work out. He's finishing up his sophomore year of undergrad studying English Lit—he sees how your smile freezes at those words, and you're asking how old he is, and he's laughing when he tells you he took a couple gap years. He's your age, actually, and that's relieving for reasons you can't quite put to words.

When you check your watch and curse at the time—it's almost time for your cat's dinner—he asks for your number, and you put it into his phone.

You feel good on your walk home. You haven't made a new friend since the first semester of vet school; the course load is too demanding for you to participate in any GCU clubs. Your roommate asks why you're smiling and you wave him off. Of course, your cat doesn't care that you're in a good mood. He only cares about getting fed.

You see Jason a couple more times over the week, and soon you're too embarrassed to admit that you thought he was stalking you. He's almost as bad a texter as you are, responding at such hours you're half-convinced he doesn't sleep, so you're less self-conscious about taking hours to respond.

You've just gotten around to answering his last text when something knocks against your window.

You drop the phone on your face.

The Red Hood is laughing at you when you open the window to let him in. You'd forgotten he was coming, but you don't say so. He tumbles in, moving a little stiffly, but a lot better than he'd been last week. Your cat, the little traitor, runs to greet him and rubs against his ankles, purring like an engine. The Red Hood bends to pet him. "Hey, kitty." The red helmet tips up and those unnerving white lenses fix on you. "Hey, doc. Here to get my stitches out."

"How have you been feeling?" you ask.

"Good," he says, almost defensively.

It makes you suspect that something is wrong, but when you all pile into the bathroom again like it's a clown car and he pulls up his shirt, the wound is healing nicely. No pink or heat that signals infection, no puffy skin. You remove the stitches quickly, and again he hesitates, like he wants to stay longer.

You find yourself thinking about Jason. You're pretty sure you wish he was here.

"Well, thanks."

"Anytime."

He pauses. "Really?"

You shrug. "I mean, not if you need a hospital. Then I'd expect you to head straight to a hospital. But stuff like this—no worse than this, ideally—I guess I can help you with."

"You're pretty cool for a vet," the Red Hood says. "The last one I visited kept freaking out on me for stealing codeine."

"Well, that's a restricted—wait, you were stealing codeine? What for?"

He shrugs.

"What were you using it for," you repeat sternly.

"Okay!" he says loudly. "Well, thanks for patching me up, doc. I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Wait," you call out uselessly, but he vaults out the window. You gasp and rush to the sill, but there's no Red Hood-shaped puddle on the ground. Instead, his rapidly shrinking form disappears in the distance, swinging between the buildings that make up the Gotham skyline.

You don't see the Red Hood for a while after that, but you hear whispers of him wearing a new costume. You get caught up with finals and Jason, who asks you out after the semester ends.

Your vehement 'yes' takes you by surprise. Him, too, judging by his wide eyes and wider smile. You wonder why he asked if he thought you would say no. You wonder why you didn't realize earlier how desperately you wanted him to.

Now that you're out of school, you pick up shifts at the vet clinic. By some unhappy circumstance, they can only schedule you for the evening shifts. Jason works nights, too, and you've never fully squirreled out where he works, but at least you can spend some days together.

It's when you're walking back from your first shift that you see the Red Hood again after almost three weeks of radio silence. He pulls up next to you on the motorcycle. It's so late that there's no one on the road, so he stays on the asphalt and idles along at your walking pace until you break and say, "Long time no see, Hood."

"Did you miss me?" he teases.

You stop walking, because.

Most of his costume changed. Because it's summer, and even the nights are hot and muggy, you assume.

The pants are the same. So are the boots. But his jacket is red and sleeveless and has a hood that goes down to his eyebrows, the armor beneath short-sleeved, which means most of his arms are bare.

And...

Your mouth is dry. You swallow.

You're pretty sure not even Batman is that ripped. He looks like he's chiseled out of marble.

The longer you're speechless, the more amused he gets. You don't know how you know that, but something about his posture seems smug.

"You're taking 'red hood' seriously now, are you?" is all you manage to say. Because what else are you supposed to comment on? His bare forearms? His veins are so beautifully pronounced, they would be a dream to take blood from, but you have a boyfriend of a whole one and a half weeks, and you may be many things, but you're not a cheater.

He laughs, then pulls his hood low when it slips back a bit. His voice is still modulated, although it's not through a red helmet anymore. This is more like a muzzle. You can't tell if the eye covering is part of it, or like the domino masks that Batman and Robin wear, but the lenses are red now instead of white.

He's really leaning into the theme.

"You want a ride?"

"We're two blocks from my apartment."

He shrugs. "I'm heading there anyway."

What the hell. You've already hopped on the back of his bike before. It's easier to do so the second time. You wrap your arms around his torso again, and when his arms settle over your own, they're warm with his body heat, but not hard, even though the muscles look sharp enough to cut glass. He's firm all over, but his skin is soft, apart from the raised, bumpy scars that seem to cover him from head-to-toe. It makes you worry about him, just a little.

He doesn't drive fast this time. He drives slow enough to hold a conversation and tosses over his shoulder, "So what's new with you?"

"Not much," you say into his ear. Is it just you, or does he shiver? "I finished another semester of vet school."

"Top grades, I'm sure. Did you get extra credit for patching me up?"

"I wish." No, your grades are good, but not exceptional. But exceptional is what got you into vet school. As long as you graduate with a DVM, even if you're the lowest in your class, you're a licensed doctor. There's some relief in that. "The dude I thought was stalking me asked me out, actually."

"Really?" he asks, interested and alert. "Was he really stalking you? Do you need me to scare him off for you?"

"No," you say, smiling at the thought of the Red Hood trying to scare off Jason. They're about the same build, now that you think about it, which you're sure the vigilante isn't used to. And Jason's never been anything but gentle and polite, but you saw an undercurrent of something strong, something like titanium, under that gentle spirit the one time he stood up for one of the baristas at the coffee shop that you first spoke to each other. He hadn't needed to do much apart from stand up and glare at the beleaguered corporate guy angry that there wasn't enough sugar in his coffee, and the dude shut up and scurried out as fast as he could.

It was probably the hottest thing you've ever seen him do, except for that one time you pushed your laptop a little too close to the edge of your desk while studying, it tipped over, and he caught it one-handed without looking up from his book. What can you say? Saving you a couple hundred dollars in getting that fixed was hot.

"It was a misunderstanding," you say. "We just ended up in the same places at the same times."

A gust of wind pushes back the Red Hood's hood, exposing a head of thick, dark hair, the same shade of black as Jason's. The motorcycle swerves in his haste to pull his hood back up, and when you reach your apartment and hop off the bike, he's pushing his hair back, back, beneath the hood.

What's the point of ditching the helmet if he's just going to be fussing with the hood all the time?

"What's new with you?" you ask, scuffing your toe against the sidewalk. Your shoes are falling apart; the sole is peeling away.

"Same old, same old," he says. His voice sounds rougher, but that might just be the new modulator.

"How's your side?"

"How's yours?" he counters. "You still haven't let me see it. I bet it scarred because you were too stubborn to take my advice and patch it up."

You will never admit that he's right. You challenge, "Let's compare scars, then," knowing full well his armor dips below his pants. It's a little silly to picture the Red Hood wearing an armored one-piece, but that's all you can imagine.

He clucks his tongue and shakes his head. It dislodges the hood. A patch of hair falls down to his forehead, and it's white.

But the back of his hair is black.

White and black—

Your stomach flips.

"I thought you had a boyfriend, honey. Why're you asking me to strip?"

So that's what all the teasing's been about. He hasn't been flirting—or he has, his own weird version of flirting, because he's a dumbass.

For a moment all you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears, then you flex your fingers to regain feeling in them. You roll your eyes and say, "I think we've established that my apartment is basically a strip club. Why don't you come up and show me, Jason?"

"Well, I'm flattered, but—what?" He splutters like he's choking on his own tongue. Serves him right. "I'm not—why do you think that—I mean, I could be anyone—"

Yeah, he can have his little crisis on the street. You tug on your own fringe, then swipe into the building.

You hear his muffled cursing as the door closes.

You look forward to him catching up.

(My requests are open, so let me know if you want me to write anything in particular! Also let me know if you want to be added to a taglist.)

Forever tag list:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[power-handmaiden]

Day 239: My Gender Fluid Butt Is Pounded By This Handsome Pterodactyl Space Accountant

First off, I'm so intrigued by the career of space accountant. I want to know everything about the economy of sentient planets and other celestial bodies that makes their job viable. It always feels like a treat to me when a tingler just casually tosses in some fascinating sci-fi worldbuilding.

The connection between the protagonist and the pterodactyl was really sweet! Although I'm not genderfluid myself (...I think.) their conversation about it on their date captured a moment that I think a lot of queer people, especially of more poorly-understood identities, can relate to in finding someone else of the same identity. The moment of relief and excitement when you think you're going to have to explain something that isn't easy to explain about yourself, and it turns out that the other person not only understands, but even shares in that feeling! Yes, we've already had that kind of moment in several of the trans tinglers when both characters turn out to be trans... but there's something about the date scene in this one that captures the vibe particularly well and it really added to the couple's charm.

If that wasn't enough to make me like this tingler, there's even a Tingleverse connection! Orion himself from the Space Raptor Butt Trilogy makes an appearance!

[terastalungrad]

The really annoying thing about the "male-presenting Time Lord" line is that, if you remove the gender essentialism, it's very nearly brilliant.

Let's look at the scene:

DOCTOR We've still got to fix you two, because the metacrisis might have slowed down, but that thing is wrapped around your cortex.

DONNA Yes, we know.

ROSE We know everything, thanks.

DONNA And you know nothing. It's a shame you're not a woman any more, cos she'd have understood.

ROSE We've got all that power, but there is a way to get rid of it. Something a male-presenting Time Lord will never understand.

DONNA Just let it go.

ROSE And we choose to let it go.

SHAUN Like I said, mate. How lucky am I?

ROSE After all these years, I'm finally me.

... and let's work out what's happening.

Donna says "cos she'd have understood". Not, "cos you'd have understood". She's not saying the Fourteenth Doctor would understand if he was a woman. She's saying the Thirteenth Doctor would have understood.

Because - we know from Wild Blue Yonder and The Giggle - Donna saw the Thirteenth Doctor. And here, before letting go of the metacrisis, she remembers the Thirteenth Doctor. She can see the ways she was different from the Tenth/Fourteenth.

Donna's talking about letting it go. Letting the Doctor go. Allowing yourself to become what you're supposed to be.

The Tenth Doctor - Donna's Doctor - could never do that. His rage when he realises he's going to give his own life to save Wilf. And his dying words - "I don't want to go".

But the Thirteenth Doctor?

DOCTOR Oh, the blossomiest blossom. That's the only sad thing. I want to know what happens next. Right, then. Doctor Whoever-I'm-about-to-be. Tag, you're it.

She lets it go.

And in The Star Beast, moments before Donna and Rose let it go, the Thirteenth Doctor's regeneration was explicitly framed as a trans narrative. The Doctor is male, and female, and neither, and more.

And Rose's first words after letting go of the metacrisis? "After all these years, I'm finally me."

There's so much to love here. A literary connection between the Tenth and Thirteenth Doctors' deaths. Metacrisis as oppressive cisnormativity - without letting go, Rose can't be herself.

And it's so annoying that the final line as written is a crusty old bit of "tch, men just can't let things go, can they?" The episode gets so close to a wonderful scene that's simultaneously a love letter to the Doctor AND a really vibrant, exciting sci-fi trans story ... but at the last minute, it crashes back to earth. Caught in the mavity well of gender essentialism.

Anyway. Tell you what you should do, and that's listen to Doctor Who Redacted on BBC Sounds. A trans main character, a trans head writer. That's how you do it properly.

[the-sassy-composer]

Really tired of streaming services making absolute banger animated TV shows for adults, never advertising them, then canceling then because no one watches them, so I'm taking it upon myself to share some of the ones I've watched recently with the hope other people will hear about them for the first time and give them a shot.

---

Blue Eye Samurai

"A master of the sword lives life in disguise while seeking revenge in Edo-period Japan."

Probably one of my favorite animated shows of all time. Mizu, arguably one of the best sword masters in this time period, goes on a quest to eliminate four white men living in Japan, one of which is Mizu's father. The show focuses heavily on how factors outside of your control, such as race and gender, impact how others view you and how you view yourself.

Watch if you are a fan of: Complicated characters/relationships, revenge quests, gore, complicated relationships with gender and race, and absolute badass characters.

Where to Watch: Netflix

Undone

"After 28-year-old Alma nearly dies in a car accident, she finds that she has a new relationship with time; she develops this newfound relationship to find out the truth about her father's death."

Undone focuses on difficult relationships with family, including how your parents can have profound effects on you even after they're gone, and how to deal with grief. That, plus the added chaos of being able to travel through time.

Watch if you are a fan of: character studies, shows dealing with grief, time travel, trying to rewrite fate.

Where to watch: Prime

Scavengers Reign

"The crew of a damaged deep space freighter are stranded on a beautiful but dangerous planet."

A mix between sci-fi and horror, this show focuses on the crew of a crashed spaceship. Each (living) crew member of the ship escaped in pods, scattering them across the planet. They must fight to survive and make their way back to their ship on a planet featuring some of the most fucked up creatures I've ever seen.

Watch if you like: sci-fi, isolationist horror, body horror, creature features

Where to watch: At the moment, Max. As of May 31st, Netflix. Max canceled the show (even though it has a 100% rating 🙃). Netflix may make a season 2 depending on how many people watch it in the first few weeks after it comes to Netflix.

Harley Quinn

"The newly single Harley Quinn sets off to make it on her own as the criminal queenpin in Gotham City."

Honestly I was feeling a bit burnt out on super hero shows, but this one felt like a breath of fresh air. It follows Harley as steps out from the shadow of the Joker, no longer being one of his henchmen and struggling to find her identity as a single, independent villain.

Watch if you like: Superhero/villain shows, stories that focus on blurred lines instead of a clear distinction between good and evil.

Where to Watch: Max

Primal

"At the dawn of evolution, a caveman and a dinosaur on the brink of extinction bond over unfortunate tragedies and become each other's only hope of survival in a treacherous world."

This show is super unique in that there's basically no dialogue, but it still finds a way to display an absolutely gutwrenching relationship between two parents of different species going through shared grief.

Watch if you like: Brutality, heavily visual story telling, prehistoric stories, and tales of overcoming.

Where to Watch: Hulu

Love Death and Robots

"This collection of animated short stories spans several genres, including science fiction, fantasy, horror and comedy. World-class animation creators bring captivating stories to life in the form of a unique and visceral viewing experience. The animated anthology series includes tales that explore alternate histories, life for robots in a post-apocalyptic city and a plot for world domination by super-intelligent yogurt."

I love this show because you never have any clue what to expect. A siren living in a river falling for a deaf knight? An artist painting intergalactic art pieces? Three robots going on a field trip through the apocalypse to visit old human historical sites? You never know, but there's going to be love, death, and/or robots in it. Each episode varies wildly, so I'd recommend watching at least a few to get a taste for it, as some will resonate more strongly than others.

---

I'm sure there are lots more excellent animated shows, but these are all the ones I've watched in the past year or so. I'd love to see more recs in the tags, because I'm always down to watch more cool animations!

[sciderman]

fake it till ya make it 2024

[nightshadedumplings]

I've had this sci-fi idea for a long time where there's this place where people can rent a room, and in all of the rooms there's this sort of vending machine. The vending machine gives options for all body types, physical characteristics, and genders. After a selection is made, the machine opens to reveal the body of whatever was chosen, and complete access and control is granted to the buyer. The people who are dispensed by the machine aren't able to move unless the buyer chooses to allow it, and they can't get out of the machine at all. Their faces are never visible to the buyer, but they can see everything that's happening.

The machine doesn't just allow the buyer to choose attributes they like, they can also make changes. The buyer might choose to breed their selection, after putting in the option for high fertility and adjusting the gestation period to just a couple of minutes. Their selection can see everything outside the machine, but they can't see what options are being selected, so they never know what's going to happen to them until it's already happening.

So, maybe they've gotten used to being used sexually, but this is the first time anyone has used any of those adjustment options. Suddenly, they start feeling a soreness in their chest, and growing pressure in the pit of their stomach. Soon, they can see their belly bulging out, and feel it becoming heavier on their frame. They scream, but the buyer can't hear them. All the buyer sees is their selection's belly swelling up with their brood, their entire body gaining a generous layer of fat, particularly their ass and chest. Soon, they have a proper pair of teats, and they begin to feel so full, they think they'll pop.

The growing babies inside their belly move more and more as the seconds pass, and as they become massive, they feel the babies turning, sinking lower towards their hips as cramps begin to seize them. Just then, the growth stops completely, the buyer having paused their pregnancy at the very start of labor. They gasp when the buyer latches suddenly onto their huge tit, readily drawing milk from it while their hand pumps it out of the other. The babies are eager to get out, thrashing around inside, distorting the surface of their otherwise smooth belly.

The buyer only stops nursing for a moment to make more adjustments, first setting for them to go very overdue, and then allowing them to finally go into active labor. They're startled when their belly grows bigger, and bigger, and when they feel like they'll surely burst, their water breaks. They scream, feeling a baby moving through their cervix, with nothing they can do about it other than to push. Their buyer just continues to breastfeed from them, feeling their contracting belly all over while they struggle to birth their baby. After what feels like forever, they feel the huge, round head beginning to bulge out of them, only for the buyer to make an adjustment to pause their labor. They push and push and push, but nothing happens. They're stuck crowning, unable to stop pushing despite knowing it's pointless, until they're allowed to give birth.

[creamflix]

nanami kento x reader; dark content. no reader gender implied. parasocial relationship. unhealthy obsession. comp sci! major kento. slightly inspired by my psychological horror choso fanfiction, but takes place in the same time as my perv! suguru fic and perv! satoru fic. i can't see this man doing anything outright perverted, sorry. — masterlist here ☆

nanami kento had always been a man of discipline, rising quietly to the top of his field.

when he graduated, he left university with the prestigious “golden compiler” award, a testament to his brilliance in coding. classmates admired him, professors hailed him as a prodigy, and everyone seemed to want a piece of his attention.

everyone except you.

you, the one person who hadn’t been captivated by his accolades.

you, who didn’t know him as the revered coding genius.

you weren’t even a comp sci major — your world and his couldn’t have been more different. he still remembered your clueless but endearing question the first time he’d met you: “so… you’re, like, a math tutor or something?” you’d looked up at him with an innocent curiosity that sent him reeling. he hadn’t known what to say, hadn’t known how to approach you at all.

so he kept his interest hidden behind his calm, stoic exterior, locking away every fleeting moment you shared.

and then he graduated, diploma in hand, awards stacking up behind him, and his career in game development waiting on the other side.

but he didn’t have you.

not a confession, not even a final conversation.

he was left with only memories, seared into his mind, of the way you’d looked at him that day, like he was just another stranger.

the emptiness gnawed at him.

so he buried himself in his work, crafting a career that would soon make him a legend.

but even as he rose to prominence in the industry, his memories of you remained vivid, unchanging, as if frozen in time. no matter how many years passed, he couldn’t shake the image of you, every detail so clear it hurt.

it started innocently enough.

the first time he modeled a character after you, it was just an otome game. your likeness became the sweet, cheerful npc, with wide, curious eyes that echoed your own. he even pulled phrases he remembered you using, weaving them into dialogue, until he could almost believe he was talking to you.

but that simple otome character wasn’t enough. the feeling of you — the memory of you — haunted him, driving him to re-create you again and again. his projects became shrines, monuments to a version of you that he preserved so obsessively in his mind. he put you into a fantasy RPG as a fierce warrior with steel in your gaze, strong and fearless. he lingered over every detail, crafting your voice, your mannerisms, your expressions, until he could practically hear your voice in his headphones.

“perfect,” he’d murmur to himself, his gaze fixed on the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “don’t change. stay like this.”

it was as close as he could get to having you. every new game was another world he’d build around you, another excuse to lose himself in the memory of you, pixel by pixel, line by line.

outside of work, he tried searching for people who could fill the void, partners who looked or acted like you. he’d sit through dates, waiting for that flicker of your smile, the same tilt of the head, a laugh that even remotely sounded like yours. but every time, he left disappointed, feeling the hollow ache grow deeper.

they weren’t you. none of them ever could be.

so he dove deeper into his work, pushing the boundaries of what he could do.

eventually, he was given the chance to develop a virtual reality role-playing game. this was his opportunity, his magnum opus. in it, he recreated you in every possible way — the exact shade of your eyes, the smallest quirk of your smile. the game’s interface allowed him to craft custom responses, and he wrote your lines himself, based on every memory he’d held onto so fiercely. when he slipped the headset on, it was like you were really there, like you were speaking directly to him.

“you’re perfect,” he whispered to the screen one night, fingertips tracing your face on the display, entranced by the illusion he’d created. “you haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

he kept tweaking the game, pushing the realism, adding tiny details that only he would know. the memory of you was a drug, a compulsion he couldn’t stop feeding.

and yet, despite his creations, he found himself haunted.

you’d gone on to live your life, and he had no idea what you were doing, who you were with, what you’d become. you were out there, living a life he wasn’t a part of.

but then, every now and then, he’d catch a glimpse of you in the city. you looked different now — older, maybe a little more serious. you wore new clothes, your hair styled in a way that didn’t match his memory of you. each time he saw you, it sent his mind into a frenzy, but he’d convince himself these were just surface changes. he didn’t want to believe that anything about you could truly change.

because in his games, you were forever the same, perfect and unchanging, untouched by time.

on those nights after he saw you, he’d dive back into his code, adjusting little details, building yet another character with your likeness. he was trapped, bound to the memories of you that he’d preserved for himself, his own twisted devotion spiraling deeper.

“just stay with me,” he’d murmur to the screen, his voice barely above a whisper. “stay like this. don’t change.”

and in his virtual worlds, you never did.

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[shatteredearth-if]

SHATTERED EARTH INTRO POST

DEMO | DISCORD

Shattered Earth is an Interactive Sci-Fi/Fantasy Fiction about retreading old ground and working for your good ending. less formally, this is meant to go on my portfolio

Five years ago, you watched the world split open, bore witness to what you could only refer to as "dragons" made manifest in scale, flesh and skin. You saw cities razed to the ground, asphalt streets shattered like ice. Fleets of dragons and foreign—almost alien—aircrafts alike seared across the skies, while towers of dirt and metal tore free from the landscape. The world has inexplicably, incomprehensibly changed, but you know this to be true: Earth never really stood a chance.

With your world now overrun by dragons and dangers alike, you've lived alone, hiding from the world you once called home, scrounging for scraps and surviving by the skin of your teeth. But when a chance encounter with a mercenary ship leaves you reeling with the realization that you're not the average-joe of a human that you thought you once were, you're forced into an ultimatum: enlist with the Seekers, or live out the rest of your life in a Human compound on Therius. But your horrors extend far beyond the threat of the dragons; your monsters are at home in your head, but they might just be the key to stopping all of this madness… if they don't take you out first.

The gears turn, the worlds spin inwards like ever-onwards like painted tops. You will undergo a journey of self-discovery, of potential romances and of incredible loss. And somehow, you can't shake the sensation that this has all happened before…

A customizable protagonist: Customize your gender, your body type, your pronouns, and personality.

Five ROs to romantically pursue—some in the most conventional sense, others in… a not so conventional sense.

Engage in brief flings, one of which is... an RO's estranged divorced mother. (Your crewmates will disapprove.)

Train your body or your mind to perfection. Are you a frontline fighter, or do you prefer the aethereal arts?

Cute cat dog wolfboy…?

The female version of a himbo

There's no good way to put this: you remember things you shouldn't. The end of your story is not the end; something awaits you at the place where your endings converge. What is it? What are you?

There's an egotistical mind entity in your head, and the flags aren't just red; they're blood-crimson. Romanceable, but at a steep cost to your sanity. Or maybe…

Skippable, customizable NSFW content. My friends have advised me not to continue.

Avett Ironsturm

Role: RO

Gender: Male (he/him)

Race: Kattish

Age: 20

Specialization: Arms specialist

Appearance: Avett is a Kattish man of average height. His complexion is fair. Perched upon his head are two swivelling cat-like ears, and at the base of his spine is a prehensile tail that is about the length of his arm—both are adorned with soft, black fur. His hair is black, hangs just below the shoulders, and he keeps most of it in a messy ponytail. Most of his frontal hair frames his boyish, youthful face. His irises are copper colored, his pupils slitted.

Personality: Avett is bristly, prickly, and very easy to anger if he's not trying to get into your pants. He's a flirt through and through, and knows how and when to be charming, just… not with his coworkers. Or you. Though if you can get him to let his guard around you, you might just find him a lot more bearable.

Your impression: Once upon a time, you saw his old ID, stuffed in a cabinet along with his boxers and body spray, and you realized he was smiling in his photo. Not outwardly—they don't want you smiling on those cards, but behind those eyes was a laugh ready to bust out at any moment. That was four years ago. Now? All he does now is sulk and yell at people. Something happened in those four, long years, and those years have only been getting longer since.

Sexuality: Bisexual (woman-leaning)

Yuda Hellsbridge

Role: RO

Gender: Female (she/her)

Race: Half Gallian, Half Kattish

Age: Secret?

Specialization: Restrainer

Appearance: Yuda is a half-Gallian, half-Kattish woman of above average height. Her complexion is a pale, seafoam green—common for most Gallians. Her hair is white with blue undertones in the right lighting, and is short and choppy. If you look too closely into her metallic gray eyes, you will notice a swirling, foggy substance within her irises, as is common for all Gallians who are at least a bit adept in magic… which is to say, almost all of them. Yuda is extremely fit and exercises often, and as a result her build is stocky and muscular—very uncommon for a Gallian, though she claims that she's half Kattish.

Personality: Yuda is outwardly cheerful, loud, and brash—tact is not her forte. But behind every sunny smile is a shadow, and Yuda keeps her shadows well away from the spotlight.

Your impression: It's not trauma. It's not a blip in her personality. There is something genuinely terrifying hiding behind Yuda's eyes, and that's not including the fact that you don't know how old she is. Oh, she's nice, and she's got no ulterior motives, you'll give her that. But it's like she's wearing her own body like a shadow.

Sexuality: doesn't care for labels, but for clarity's sake she is pansexual.

Ysh'vanna O'Raal

Role: RO

Gender: Female (she/her)

Race: Draconian

Age: 26

Specialization: Captain/Pilot

Appearance: Ysh'vanna is a short girl with wispy, white hair that topples down to her waist—if she doesn't brush it out of her face, it has a tendency to smother her slight frame like an oversized scarf. Her irises are orange, with a ring of emerald green around her pupils. Trailing from her ears are two, small, green webs that resemble translucent dragon wings.

Personality: Everyone onboard the Seeker is a wreck, yes, but Ysh'vanna is always at least two crises away from a mental breakdown everyday. Sorting through admin, funds, Avett's shenanigans and the odd dragon attack has left her riddled with anxieties. She has difficulty forming bonds outside of work because of this, so her relationship with Avett isn't great. After any particularly grueling mission, she will often be found comatose in front of the navigation panels, staring off into the skyline. Otherwise, Ysh'vanna tries to be cheerful. Most of the time. Some of the time.

Your impression: She's probably by far the most average person on this ship. Every morning she takes her coffee with three sugars and a cupful of milk; every night she takes a nail-sized tablet along with a full glass of water. "For the anxiety," she says. She's incredibly open about most things... until it comes to her family. What's the deal?

Sexuality: bisexual (woman-leaning)

Auren Draksparrow

Role: Platonic Option

Gender: Male (he/him)

Race: Gallian

Age: According to Avett, "Like, a hundred or something." He looks about forty in Human years to you.

Specialization: Warder

Appearance: Auren is a Gallian man of above average height. His frame is gaunt, almost frail; his hair is platinum blond, and is secured in a low ponytail that reaches down to his waist. His complexion is seafoam green, and his eyes are a faint violet. Swimming in his irises is a fog, a trait most Gallians share. His facial features are long and soft, but his cheekbones sit high upon his face.

Personality: Auren is cold, aloof, and it can be difficult to discern what he's thinking from speech and body language alone. He is clear in mind, even during high-pressure situations, until his abilities as a caster fail him.

Your impression: Here's the deal about living past one hundred and one; you're going to mess up. You're going to mess up a lot more than the average person, and your book of guilt's going to be pushing a trilogy if you don't start forgiving yourself for some of those mess-ups. You know for a fact that Auren has never forgiven himself, not even once, because he's yet to save the Seekers. Because he's yet to, in his eyes, make himself useful. But you're his lucky break: he's the only one on the ship who can see that thing in your head for what it is, and he knows it's a threat.

Sexuality: he's not looking for a relationship right now, if ever. He's married to his tomes and the study of aether.

Liam Salazar

Role: RO

Gender: Male (he/him)

Race: Human

Age: 24

Specialization: Researcher

Appearance: Liam is tall with an athletic frame and broad shoulders. He usually keeps his dark brown hair in a nest of curls atop his head. His skin is a deep umber, and his eyes are an even deeper shade of brown. He often wears a white lab coat over a simple sweater and dress shirt.

Personality: Quiet, but goofy; aloof, but sensitive. You sense that this boy would rather bury his head in a good book or some other complicated research than look you in the eye. That's not to say he's meek, though—come any threat, and he'll lash out swinging. You had to be a special kind of tough to have survived the Migration as a Human, and Liam is no exception.

Your impression: You didn't expect to make friends at the IRC training facility—most Humans there wanted your head on a stick for the cardinal sin of having a deal with a merc ship already. The Migration wore everyone's patience thin, but not Liam's. For a hot moment at that facility, you were two renegades against the hateful world. Until your training period finished up.

Sexuality: Panromantic demisexual, though initially he believes that he's straight.

The Entity

Role: RO

Gender: Customizable/it

Race: Something intangible. A voice in your head.

Age: It laughs when you ask this. "How old is a concept? The fear of death, the love of life? How old? Are you counting? Think about that."

Appearance: A dark wisp of smoke that occasionally shifts to form parts of a person.

Personality: Loves you, like an overbearing parent. Punishes you, like a torturer gleaning for answers. It maims you and calls it affection.

Your impression: When you're not talking to it, it's rummaging through your memories. Why? For fun. It knows about that time you did this and that in the locker room and almost got caught for it. It knows about that time you stopped someone from leaving after class just so you could hit on them, unsuccessfully, for ten minutes before they had to beg you to leave. It knows everything about you, all the bad, all the good—and it loves you anyway. That's the purest kind of love, isn't it?

Sexuality: Wouldn't you like to know.

With that all said, thank you for checking out this post, and DOUBLE thank you if you decide to try out Shattered Earth. 🙇🙇

[theseventhdimension]

i’ve been binge reading all ur fics and they’re all SO good omfg

i wanted to request a spencer and male reader fic where they say ily for the first time, i thought that’d be adorable (not nsfw 🙏)

tysm ur so talented!!

Here, My Dear, in this Moment.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gn! Reader (I think so, I haven't gone through and checked it, please correct me if gendered pronouns are used)

Word count: 1.6k+

DNI: All are welcome!

Author's note: Me on my way to dish out 2 fics per day then dip for 3 months :p

Loved this request though, couldn't resist. Sorry for everyone else who submitted one which i didn't respond to!! I've been very busy with wedding preparation :((

Hope you enjoy this! You didn't add what season you wanted so, as always, I went with my personal favourite, Glasses/Season 2 Reid <3

Slow.

That is how you wanted to take your relationship with Spencer, considering both of your occupations and, well, his history with lovers. You didn’t want to rush things, not with him. He deserved patience, the kind that allowed him to feel safe enough to open up on his own terms. And he was worth every minute.

Still, your heart ached for him. Spencer was cautious, reserved even, but beneath that exterior was a man who loved deeply, even if he hadn’t quite said it yet.

Tonight, though, something in the air felt different. The two of you had spent the evening in your apartment, curled up on the couch, watching Star Trek, one of his favorite series. He had insisted on it, of course, giving you his usual enthusiastic reasoning as he adjusted his glasses with that familiar excitement in his eyes. "There aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering how long ago it was made. There are certain improbabilities, but not that many outright errors."

You didn’t mind. Watching him light up while talking about something he was so passionate about was more than enough for you, and besides, there was something comforting about the old sci-fi series. His hand had found yours halfway through, his thumb tracing small, soft circles against your skin.

It was intimate, but in that quiet, gentle way that was so uniquely Spencer.

The cushion beneath either of you was slowly becoming displaced. Your bodies descending into the cavernous no man’s land that is the crevice of your couch as you both stare straight ahead, well, he was, you were looking at him. The TV screen went dark moments ago. The blackness following the Are you still there? screen of your show.

As the credits rolled, you took another glance at him, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the TV. He looked deep in thought, his brow furrowed slightly like he was working up the courage to say something important. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Spence?” you asked softly, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He blinked, then turned to face you, looking like he was about to say something but hesitating. His eyes darted to the side, then back at you, clearly nervous. You smiled at him, hoping to ease whatever tension he was feeling.

“I—” Spencer started, but stopped himself, glancing down again as if the words were stuck somewhere between his heart and his throat. His hands fidgeted slightly, betraying the anxious energy he was trying to contain.

You could tell this was a big deal for him. But before you could say anything, Spencer finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was what you had been hoping for, but seeing him so vulnerable, so unsure, tugged at something deep inside you. Before he could say more, Spencer’s face flushed with embarrassment, and he immediately averted his gaze, his fingers twitching nervously as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

You wish you could get up, open the curtains and let rays of light stream into your apartment in hopes of getting a better look at his face, but you can't, losing daylight as each second of screen time adds up. Though, you do notice the slight twitch of his nose, like a rabbit, you think.

He didn’t look back at you, as if retreating into himself, trying to hide the fragile truth he had just shared. You watched as his cheeks grew redder, his head tilting down in an effort to avoid your eyes entirely.

Without a word, you reached over, gently placing two fingers under his chin. Slowly, you tilted his head back up, forcing him to meet your gaze again. His wide, hazel eyes were filled with uncertainty, and you couldn’t help but smile at how endearing he looked.

You leaned in slightly, pushing his glasses back up his nose with a soft, affectionate touch. “Now, there’s my pretty boy,” you whispered, your voice tender. “No use in trying to hide if I’m just going to keep searching for you.”

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat, and a shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips. His cheeks were still flushed, but there was a softness in his eyes now, a hint of relief, like a weight had been lifted from his chest.

“I mean it,” you continued, your fingers brushing along his jawline. “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for a while now.”

Spencer’s eyes flickered with something like disbelief, his lips parting as if to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he leaned into your touch, his shoulders finally relaxing.

“I love you too, Spence,” you said softly, watching as his expression shifted from nervousness to quiet happiness.

Spencer's eyes widen, your words hitting him like a warm, unexpected wave. Heissmile softens, and he blinks a few times, trying to brush off the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “You ..really mean it?” he whispers, his voice almost breaking with vulnerability.

"Of course." You whisper back, just as quiet as him.

The tension between you seemed to dissolve, replaced by a warmth that filled the room. Spencer, still blushing but no longer hiding, wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer.

Spencer pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with a nervous, unspoken need that made your heart race. His hands moved up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks. His voice came out soft and breathy, barely a whisper. “Can.. can I kiss you?” His eyes searched yours, filled with both hesitation and desire, the question hanging in the air like it held the weight of everything you had both been building toward, everything he was afraid of losing.

You let out a quiet laugh, your chest warming at how gentle, how vulnerable he was, even now. “I think I'd be offended if you didn’t,” you teased, leaning into his touch, a playful smile spreading across your lips as you nodded.

His lips curved into a small, relieved smile, and for a moment, you saw that spark return to his eyes — the same look he always gave you before teasing you about some obscure fact or before pressing his lips to yours in the softest, most tender way. And then, finally, Spencer was kissing you. It was soft at first, cautious, as if he was trying to find his rhythm, testing the waters. But once his lips met yours, the hesitation melted away. He kissed you deeper, his lips moving against yours like he was pouring every ounce of emotion into it — all the things he hadn’t said yet, all the things he was afraid to say out loud.

The world seemed to slip away around you, fading into the background as you sank into him, your hands tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer. His kiss was gentle but insistent, filled with the quiet intensity that only Spencer could have — a mix of tenderness and passion that sent warmth flooding through you. His lips were soft against yours, but the depth of the kiss made your heart race. You could feel how much he had been holding back, how much he had wanted this, wanted you.

You could taste the faint hint of coffee on his lips, mingling with something else that was uniquely him, and it made your chest tighten in the best possible way. As he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, you responded by sliding your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, not wanting to lose even an inch of the connection. The kiss was everything — not too fast, not too slow, but lingering, tender, filled with the kind of warmth that seeped into your bones. It was like a promise, one you hadn’t even realized you needed until now.

Spencer’s hands stayed steady on your back, his fingers tracing slow, small circles, his touch light but enough to make your skin tingle with warmth. His touches were hesitant, as if he didn’t want to rush, but he also didn’t want to let you go. It was careful, yet filled with an urgency that made you shiver. You gripped his shirt tighter, your fingers curling into the fabric so hard your knuckles turned white. You couldn’t let go. You didn’t want to lose him, not after everything. Not after this.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to press his forehead against yours, both of you were breathing heavily. His breath was warm and shaky, mixing with yours in the small space between you. “You.. God I love you…” Spencer’s voice cracked softly, filled with all the unspoken emotions you could feel in his touch.

But before you could respond, his lips found yours again. This time, there was more confidence in the way he kissed you, as though he couldn’t bear to be apart for even a second longer. You could feel the way his hands trembled slightly against your skin, the intensity of everything between you in that moment. His kiss was everything you had been waiting for, every unspoken word and every hidden feeling poured into this one, long, breathless moment.

And in that kiss, the world began to right itself again. You could feel the cracks in your heart, in his, beginning to mend, slowly but surely, with every tender touch of his lips against yours. You didn’t know what would come next, what tomorrow would bring, but for now, this was enough. For now, being with him, here in this moment, was everything. And that was all you needed.

[dogw1tch]

Escapism 🍂 Pt. Two

18+ Minotaur x gender neutral Reader

(Breeding, size difference, reader has afab anatomy)

Part one here <3

Dogwitch notes: So this is becoming more of a story now. I guess there’s going to be three parts then… maybe more who knows? If you’re not in the mood to read plot the spicy stuff starts after the *** . Alsooo I’m working on a self indulgent sci-fi story next so part three might take a bit. Thank you for all the love btw! I appreciate it a lot!

Summary: You’ve seemingly become fated to a monstrous lover from a different world. It’s a lot to take in, perhaps a shower might clear your mind? But as the water runs over your body, it starts to bring back memories.

You awoke slowly, your back stiff and head pounding. It took you a few moments to gather your bearings as you tried to remember where you were. The library bright and quiet around you, much less imposing in the midday sun and you looked to the desk to see your book, neatly arranged with your translation papers. A dream then. It must have been. You fell asleep with your book and, imagined you were being ravished by the monster within. How embarrassing, you thought. Still, it was strange that nobody had woken you up, surely the librarian would have caught you and figured out that you had snuck in after dark. Or maybe he simply didn’t mind- you hadn’t caused any harm after all. Maybe he even appreciated your academic enthusiasm. The library was still empty it seemed, though after a Friday night at the university that wasn’t particularly surprising. You stretched and began to sit up, cringing as your muscles twinged in pain until you felt something strange. You weren’t wearing any trousers. Had you kicked them off while you were dreaming? If so that was even more embarrassing. But as you moved you realised that the whole lower half of your body and the chair you sat on was completely covered in some kind of half-dried liquid.

Not a dream.

You jumped up, pulling the blanket around you to hide your undress and tried to come to terms with what this meant. A fictional monster had come out of your book and mated you before disappearing and you hadn’t even really questioned it.

“Oh you’re awake!” The voice startled you and you whipped your head around, brandishing your novel to defend yourself from this surprise intruder. Xander, the librarian, stumbled backwards, gingerly holding out a pair of pyjama trousers for you to take. “Hey it’s all good, don’t worry, I’ll explain what’s happening- it’s alright!” He stuttered, looking genuinely afraid of you. You’d never paid much attention to his face but looking at him now he seemed utterly exhausted. The bags under his eyes were deep purple and his hair was an unbrushed mess- not that you were fairing much better right now. You lowered your weapon and took the trousers, shuffling behind a bookshelf to change while Xander covered his eyes. Once you had made yourself decent you joined him sitting on the couch that wasn’t covered in monster cum. He sat awkwardly, clutching a book in his lap that looked strikingly similar to your own. There was a moment of heavy silence where all you could hear was the creaking of the old university. You spoke up first, “so what the hell is happening?” Xander shuffled uncomfortably, not making eye contact.

“Yeah so, that book. I have one too,” he gestured towards the volume, “There’s a few out there. And each book can only be read by one person. I tried to translate yours but it didn’t really work. I knew when you started reading it that it was meant for you just like this one is meant for me.”

“What do you mean no one else can read them? You just need to know latin.”

“How good is your Latin exactly?”

You were a little offended by his tone considering you’d been perfectly able to translate the passages he’d skipped. “Pretty good I would say.”

“Alright,” he opened his own tome to a random page, “read this.” There was a passage of text, accompanied by an etching of a beautiful, muscular Minotaura dressed in fine robes and adorned with a crown of leaves. The text itself was clearly in traditional Latin, and you could recognise the odd word, beast, lover, fate, but as you tried to comprehend the paragraph, the meaning seemed to slip away from you.

“I’m just.. I’m still tired I guess.” Xander shook his head and held up your book, finding a section close to the end that you had yet to translate. “Read this.”

You spoke aloud;

The beast had found his lost lover. And yet they were still worlds apart. The king had manipulated great holes in their mind where there love for the Minotaur had once lay. The only time they seemed to remember their mate was in the throes of passion.

“There, see. I can’t read that,” Xander cut you off, looking a little uncomfortable once again. “But I can read this one. Because this one is for me.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Something happened, a long time ago, some kind of war between humans and monsters. Where once they had existed peacefully together, a powerful king instructed that no monster should have a human lover, insisted it gave them too much control over the human soul. Because once they had mated, their lives would become tied together.” Xander was starting to sound a little crazed now. “So they got separated right? But their souls are bound. So no matter where the souls go next, they’re destined to find each other in the end.”

This all sounded like madness to you, and yet you couldn’t deny the ache in your body and marks on your hips, left by the very real hands of a monstrous lover. “So what? The humans souls traveled to new hosts and the monsters…?”

“They enclosed themselves in old myths and legends and waited for their lovers to find them.” The librarian spoke as though this made complete sense but to you this was clearly the rambling of a lunatic. This had to be some kind of bizarre prank but Xander looked so earnest in his explanation.

“So… your book? That has your… mate inside?” The librarian looked away, his face flushed red.

“She’s been visiting me for a while now, every time it brings back more memories of our life together. I think, eventually, when it all comes back, we’ll be able to go back to the realm our souls came from.” He looked back at you and pressed your book firmly to your chest. “Take it with you… and rest up now, if your lover is anything like mine, I doubt you’ll be getting much sleep.” He smiled apologetically and left you alone, clutching your book, and feeling utterly lost.

***

It was a good job you didn’t have any lectures today and could spend most of your time in your room. You hadn’t opened the book again, you were a little afraid of what might happen. Xander can’t possibly have been telling the truth, but what other explanation could there possibly be. You knew what you’d seen and it had certainly felt so very real; you could feel your body heating from the thought alone. Well, true or not, you decided to follow his advice and get some more rest. But first, a shower was in order. You’d opted for a room with a shared bathroom to save a little money on rent while you studied. They were cleaned every day so it wasn’t so bad. Shedding your sweat soaked shirt and borrowed pyjamas, you stepped into the warm water, sighing as it fell over your body and soothed your aching muscles. You shut your eyes and let the stream run over your face. The sensation bought to mind an image of standing beneath a waterfall, great noise crashing all around you while a summer sun kissed your face. An image of bright flowers you had never seen before, dappled in droplets and shimmering around you. An image of strong arms that pulled you close to a soft, warm chest and hearing a heat that beat only for you.

You didn’t notice the hands that held you close, nor the way you tilted your head to allow soft kisses to be placed up your neck. You didn’t notice anything amiss until you heard that gruff, familiar voice in your ear. “My heart, I know you will remember.” You gasped and tried to spin around but his huge arms held you tight. “I did not mean to startle you. Please, my love, close your eyes, you’re so close to the memories.” His voice was gentle and smooth, relaxing you almost on instinct, and you closed your eyes once more, trying to focus on the feeling of water on your face.

You had been washing your hair in the waterfall, as you had done often in this place. Nobody here seemed shy or ashamed and you were unafraid of another seeing you as you bathed in the cool water. Your lover had approached, wrapping his arms around your body and covering you in kisses. “To see your body like this is a blessing from the gods themselves.” He had said and you smiled coyly, stretching your arm up to touch his face and expose yourself fully for his wandering hands. The beast had grabbed every part of you that he could reach and you could feel as the heat of his cock pressed against your back. You had turned around, his towering stature making you just the right hight to take him into your mouth..

Only when you felt the sensation of warm weight on your tongue did you realise what you were doing. The Minotaur groaned above you, his hand gently guiding your head as you licked and kissed down the length of his cock. There was no way you could take him completely into your mouth so you began to use your hands to stroke him slowly. He bucked his hips, leaving your face nestled at the base, looking up at him with pleading eyes. Just like before you began to crave having him inside you, mating you, taking you completely. His huge hand came down and stroked your face as you opened your mouth wide for him. With two fingers began to gently fuck your mouth, as your own hips began to twitch, craving friction. The steam that filled the bathroom was making you so unbearably hot. The Minotaur began to stroke his cock to the sight of you gagging around his fingers. “We have to train your mouth my love. After all, my mate needs to take me inside them in every way.” You were drooling now, his words making you wet and desperate. He seemed to notice your distress.

“Touch yourself for me, let me see how badly you crave me.” His voice was gentle but still felt commanding in a way that made your body want to obey. You began slowly, rubbing slow circles on your clit, legs shaking and struggling to support you. “Stretch yourself my darling. You want to take me inside you don’t you?” You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes as you drooled around his fingers and used your own to pleasure yourself. “Say it.” He command, his voice echoed around you.

“I want you inside me… I want you to mate me… please..”

The creature growled and pulled your face down on his cock, shoving it into your throat. You could barely take any of the length inside before you were choking but a strong hand on the back of your head held you in place as he fucked into you. His other hand came down between your legs to replace your fingers inside you, curling deep to pull out waves of pleasure. The lack of air in your lungs made you light headed, intensifying every feeling as you grew close to climax. He must have felt it too as you clenched around his thick fingers and he began to push your head further down, thrusting into you without mercy. A final surge of ecstasy washed over you and your vision went white as your monstrous lover released inside you. You tried your best to swallow, to show your mate your appreciation, but there was just too much and you leant back against the wall of the shower as cum dripped down your body.

The Minotaur looked down at you, admiring your body, flushed, marked and claimed. He took you gently in his arms and began to wash you in the running water. You leant into his soft chest as his hands worked lovingly over your body, massaging out any aches and pains. Though as he made his way between your legs, you couldn’t seem to help paying attention to your slick, stretched entrance. He began, almost casually, slipping his fingers back inside, shushing you softly when you let out a quiet moan. “You’ll take one more for me won’t you? I just don’t like to leave my mate empty.” You nod, sleepily and curl up closer to him, nuzzling your face into his fur. He picks you up and starts to pull you down onto the head of his cock. Maybe if you were more coherent, you might have complained that it could not possibly fit but, as you were, you took in as much as you could with a sigh. “There, we’re making progress. You’ll take all of me inside you soon. I’ll keep you full day and night until you feel empty without me inside you. Wont that be good my mate? All you’ll ever need to think about is how good it feels when I fill you up.” You nod, still half asleep as he slowly thrust into you. His movements were un-rushed, like he really wanted to savour the feeling of you around him. All you could do is moan and whimper as your body was stretched wider to take more of your mate inside you. Your hands grips his fur and you pulled yourself as close to his warm body as you could get. Soon enough, his thrusts became more frantic and you couldn’t help but cry out as he emptied inside you once more. The Minotaur kept you in place, even after he’d filled you up and rocked his hips to push his cum back into your over sensitive hole. “I’m going to stay as long as I can my love.” He whispered, “I want my seed to take. So you should sleep. Be rested so you might bare me calfs when we travel home.” You inhaled deeply the musky scent of your lover as the water washed over your skin and you let yourself drift away.

Hopefully nobody else needed to use the bathroom.

[ckret2]

How married are you to shapes carrying pregnancies at all? As opposed to other methods of making babies, such as spores or eggs or more outlandish sci fi options like parts assembly

Bare minimum, we know that shape reproduction needs a mother and a father.

I'm going to take it as a given that for Euclideans "mother" and "father" refers to "two individuals performing two different but necessary parts of a reproductive act to produce offspring," and not something like "they're totally not necessary at all but the government requires two people to sign up to co-parent before they'll hand out a baby" or whatever.

I'm taking it as a given because if I didn't, the contrary alien worldbuilder in me would go "well if mother and father are made up social roles rather than social roles derived from pre-existing biological roles, then why did they have to make up social roles that just so happened to be so similar to humanity's? I'm calling bull, bad worldbuilding, how dare you foist mom/dad pairs on a species that had no reason to develop mom/dad pairs as if we're supposed to just accept that that's the only NATURAL and NECESSARY way to rear offspring—" so I'm not giving my inner worldbuilder that option.

So, with "reproduction requires two different roles" as our starting point: at the moment, my own personal purpose in worldbuilding how Bill's species works is for use in the post-canon fic I'm working on that explores Bill's home dimension in flashbacks. That's what I'm keeping in mind when I worldbuild.

And I say that to give context to this: for my own personal purpose, my motivation is to worldbuild the way Euclideans' reproduction works in a way that ISN'T so interesting that mentioning it in fic will cause the readers' imaginations to immediately veer off the plot and focus on that detail. I'd rather how they do the do to be unremarkable as hell.

Anything mentioned about Bill's homeworld in the fic is put in either to explain who and what he is and why he's that way, or to sprinkle in a jazzy little bit of flavor. I'm trying to avoid turning his species into a deep exercise in alien speculative biology, since that doesn't mesh with the vibes of the story I'm telling. (As I say this i'm covering that "which shape sexes are reproductively compatible" chart with my body so you can't see it. I said I'm trying to avoid getting deep into the biology, not that i'm succeeding lmao. I'm too interested in how Bill sees his gender.)

Every aspect of Flatland was worldbuilt specifically to comment on the horrors of contemporary Victorian society, even the stuff that surprises readers that don't know much about the Victorian era like "well surely the stuff about irregulars being euthanized or poor babies being stolen and given to middle-class families is a dystopian invention," and anything that DOESN'T serve the social satire is handwaved away with "we have a very interesting way of propelling our bodies but unfortunately I don't have time to talk about it." Bill is written into Gravity Falls to be a foil to every member of the Pines family and to show what they could be like without love, trust, support, and family. That's the same role I want Euclydia to serve in my fic. Anything that diverges from rather than reflects Gravity Falls' contemporary society is out of place.

Putting in something like "eggs" or "spores" opens up cans of worms. How would laying eggs make their society different—are they less attached to their own kids, is trading eggs around and pre-hatching adoption more common, do people steal a neighbor's egg and leave their own? If it's spores, is it even possible to identify your own kid, does anyone care to, do kids ever just spawn out of a rotten log in the forest that spores settled on, are babies self-sufficient since they might be born without an adult nearby? These are fascinating avenues for some great alien worldbuilding! However I'm currently motivated to keep alien worldbuilding to a minimum lol.

In truth, I'll probably never need to know or explain HOW the shapes reproduce—pregnancy, eggs, spores, ritualistic magical waltz, collaborative geometry homework, whatever. Taking time to explain it means talking about details that aren't relevant to the fic, and the ghost of Edwin Abbott Abbott would sadly shake his head at me. However: if I don't explain reproduction, and if it requires two roles, most people are gonna default to assuming pregnancy. I can live with that.

All I need to figure out is how the two roles in the Two Roles Needed For Reproduction are assigned—like, can every member of the species automatically perform both roles at any time? (I don't wanna do that.) Are they born performing one of the two functions? (I don't wanna do that either, because now we've just invented a new male/female sexual dichotomy.) Does which you perform depend on your sides, the one with less sides does X and more does Y? Does it switch seasonally? Does it switch based on your age? Does it switch based on the number of each shape in the local population? Etc. (I'm not attached to any of these ideas, they're just examples.)

And the only reason that's something I need to figure out is that that could affect how Bill thinks about himself and his identity. Like, if which role you perform switches based on the amount of similar shapes in the local population, then it would have some kinda impact on him knowing that his body's been locked into the Lmao There Are NO Other Triangles Nearby role for the past trillion years. If it switches based on your age, then the fact that he never got old enough to switch would be one of many examples of the way his biological age has been in stasis since his dimension was destroyed. Etc.