#no one ever reads these lmao but hey

[soldierandawar]

Anyone who knows me knows how hard I ride for LGBTQ representation, and since today is Bi Visibility Day, why not share some of my favorite bisexual characters?

This is a long ass list, so I'll keep the commentary short. I'll also try to keep it to the main characters, but there will inevitably be a few sides.

Rosa Diaz - Oh, the ways I love Rosa, she's mean, and yet she's kind. She moved because one person knew her address, and I want to live that life. Now, she is a cop, but she does leave the force in B99's attempt to continue the show after 2020.

Patrick Zweig, Art Donaldson, and Tashi Duncan—only one of these isn't confirmed, but it's true in my heart. They're all toxic and a mess, and essentially in a throuple.

Calliope Torres - Later in life realization. Still has sex with men over the series. She's special because she's also annoying.

Carina Deluca, Amelia Sheperd, Maya Bishop - all from the Shondaland ABC universe.

Annalise Keating - Not nearly as celebrated as she should be. Wonder why?

Alice Whitley - she's black, biromantic, and asexual. Get into it.

Bob Belcher - he's "mostly straight," and he's animated, so that's fun.

David Rose - technically, I think he uses pansexual? He likes the wine and not the label.

Random shoutout to Jake from Schitt's Creek as well cause he's bisexual and has the audacity.

Harley Quinn - if you have yet to see her animated series where she gets with Poison Ivy, what are you even doing? That leads me to...

Poison Ivy - She's also mean, cares about the environment, and that's hot.

Jon Kent - bet you didn't know Superman's son was bisexual.

Lindsay - I'm just going to assume that you haven't seen Queer as Folk, and like..you should fix that.

Chuck Bass - I know, I know. He sucks, but that's what representation is all about.

Chuck/God—This is literally from a one-off line in S11, but isn't it cool that God is bisexual?

Leopoldo, Cruz, and Ivan - Elite is honestly kind of a terrible show, but it is fun.

Max - so basically if you haven't seen Black Sails...what are you even doing with your life?

Sarah - Orphan Black is another show that must be seen.

Jaskier - Idk if this is one that people would mind getting into. The Witcher is a very confusing show, but, like, I love it. & Yennefer of Vendenberg is not bisexual, but she is a hot witch, so that's worth it.

Now, I can get into the characters that are extra special to me.

Marie and Jordan from Gen V - okay, these two are particularly special because Jordan has powers that allow them to switch between male and female presenting, and where else do we see the literal physical embodiment of a non-binary person? Also, there's a little slice of commentary about how they switch to their male form whenever they want to make a point, and they are nervous because they don't think Marie likes them in their female form, and that's rectified by the end. & Marie is, of course, besotted by them no matter their form, and she's got cool, blood-bending powers, and she's hot.

Ashley Davies - you will not find her on any of those listicles that publications make of the top bisexual characters, but you must know who she is because she is the character that started it all for me. On a little show called South of Nowhere about her and Spencer (a newly out lesbian) having a whirlwind high school romance. She's edgy and emotionally unavailable, she's kind of mean, but most of the time, she doesn't mean it, and she means a lot to me, so if you don't like her, keep that shit to yourself.

Kat Edison - my main bitch, my main squeeze, and the love of my life. She's a bisexual disaster, but that's okay because I love her. Heavily identify with her, and I hold her close to my heart.

Evan Buckley— I don't make a habit of relating to male characters; that's not my ministry, but Buck is a very special case. I didn't even click with him until 3x16, and then boom. I was rocked to my core by how much I relate to him, and now he's Bi! I don't have enough words yet to explain what that feels like but shout out to him.

[annoying--moth]

No matter how many times it is explained to me or I talk about it with someone, I can't fully grasp what exactly is going on with art in the arc of a scythe universe. Because like,

It's stated multiple times that post-mortal art is "bland" and "uninspired" and "redone to death," and while I can certainly understand SOME art being like that, surely not all art is like that?? And I understand this in the sense that like, everyone's constantly remaking/repainting/making their own versions of famous paintings and such, but also there still has to be people who don't do that, right??? Like maybe I just have zero reading comprehension and somehow missed the bigger picture, but I feel like all this talk about art being redone to death implies that no one is making original art anymore? Which just. doesn't seem feasible to me?? Because as an artist myself, I can't see immortality taking away my ability to draw or come up with cool ideas. I don't draw because I'm going to die one day, I draw because I like it, and it's a form of creative expression. You can always come up with something new to draw- whether it's a cool oc, or someone you know, or just something random and abstract. The possibilities never end!

Of course, I suppose there is the argument then that people just aren't creative anymore, but I also find that hard to believe. I couldn't imagine ever truly running out of ideas. Like I mentioned above, OCs people??? I highly doubt there's no one in the post-mortal era still making weird, whacky, badass, or just cute OCs. Heck, I'd expect scythe ocs to be really popular! I wonder if it's like a thing for every kid to have a scythe oc phase..? Or at least kids in certain communities/fandoms (like scythe card trading- maybe they make their own cards for their scythe ocs!)

And also, it's confirmed that fiction is still very much a thing in the post-mortal era (I know zombies are referenced in one Gleanings story) so it's not like people can only connect to non-fiction. That's another thing that's discussed more in terms of theatre and writing- people not being able to connect to the themes because they're so far removed from it in reality. But my thing is, I've never experienced war or death (until very recently at least) and I still don't find myself unable to sympathize with people losing their loved ones to death or war or disease, although I suppose this could also have to do with the nanites. Plus the fact that death and war still exist in society as an actual thing that happens, but idk.

Also by the way- I feel like that one Gleanings story The Mortal Canvas has a subtle diss on digital art? And I have nothing against traditional art- heck I probably draw traditionally more often since I'm always doodling/sketching, but I feel like just because art is digital doesn't mean it's "uninspired" or whatever people were saying in the books. In fact, I've found myself moved emotionally by more digital pieces than traditional ones (although I don't see a lot of traditional paintings compared to digital ones tbf)

Also also I want to say- I don't exactly know how well this relates to my point but that one dude in The Mortal Canvas who made the others' artstyles into filters was a huge douchebag. AI art type shit, I was ready to strangle him reading that.

I remember the bit in The Toll about Ezra the artist, and how he said he was just "decent" or "moderately good" or something along those lines when we first met him, and I was going to make an argument about that part too but to be honest it's been a little while since I've read The Toll so I'll have to come back to that one once I reread it. But I think it also had to do with the emotional/creative aspect of art, which again, I refuse to believe immortality has such an influence on creativity that no art is original or interesting anymore. Sure it might make certain things harder, or make motivation worse, but I feel like if someone is truly creative it doesn't matter? Though then again, I'm not immortal so what do I know.

I briefly mentioned nanites earlier, and that is one thing that I do think probably has an impact, and I specifically mean emo-nanites. Since post-mortals can't feel as strong emotions as us mortal humans, perhaps that's also why their art seems more uninspired or whatever, because they can't put as much emotion into it. However, an excess amount of emotion isn't exactly needed to make art either. Like as I was writing this I was looking through my own art and realised that for some pieces I wasn't putting any emotional thought whatsoever into the pieces, yet there's still a clear emotion there when you look at them. Joy, wonder, whatever.

Anyway in conclusion, I think that it's unrealistic to say that all post-mortal art would be dull, uninspired, and meaningless, because I believe there will always be creative people who will make art not because they're gonna die one day, but because they want to and enjoy it, simple as that. Thanks to whoever stuck around long enough to read this far, I really hope it made sense. It's kinda late while I'm writing this and tbh I'm half-expecting there to be some huge detail/plot point that I missed that makes my whole argument totally invalid, whether that's me misinterpreting all the bits about post-mortal art or just being a complete dumbass with zero media literacy. Either way hope this was a fun read, I don't write long-form posts like these super often (note the lack of confidence in my media literacy skills) and if I made a really bad argument/missed something huge please be nice in the notes, I have a fragile ego :(

Uh yeah anyway I think I got everything as usual don't take my rambling *too* seriously, I just always found it confusing how post-mortal art is said to be so "uninspired" (I keep using that word cause I reread chapter 3 of Scythe today and Faraday uses it there) when I personally can't imagine not being able to be creative, though perhaps I'm just self-projecting. So uh, yeah.

[teenagefeeling]

"social skills are something you can work on learning and it will help with social anxiety!" this is true, but are you saying it because you want to help or are you saying it to shame people? because not everyone is gonna always have amazing social skills, even people who don't normally struggle have bad days. holding people to such a high standard and expecting everyone to be able to be at 100% all the time not only isn't fair, but imo isn't a healthy mindset because you're also putting that pressure on yourself.

yes, social skills can be learned. but for a lot of us, they're really hard to learn and even harder to put into practice. sometimes when someone has poor social skills it's not just because they don't know any better, there are other factors at play making things more difficult. i think we should all learn to be a little more patient with each other and get comfortable with the idea that different people might have different methods of communication, and sometimes you're gonna have to be the one who adjusts for someone else (whether that involves learning stronger social skills or being patient with someone who isn't there yet)

communication is hard to get right, and it's impossible for anyone to get it right all the time. it's okay if you stutter while speaking or can't ask for ketchup at a restaurant or whatever. it's okay. you will get there with practice. not being able to do it overnight is okay. it's a long process to get comfortable with these things. not everyone is always going to be patient with you, but that's their problem, not yours. be proud of yourself for the small victories and don't let demanding assholes online convince you that you aren't good enough as you are.

[savage-rhi]

💀

[everymlmhybrid]

this part genuinely makes me feel like eating dry wall like i can't explain how i feel about it without making some of you finally tire of me and block me about it i think

[froggomcdoo]

you ever read a work of fiction so good that you immediately need to find more and consume it but it doesn't have any more and there will likely be no more so you just suffer and think what if.

[omegapheromone]

Misce and Me: Presenting as Omega, First Heat, and The Neck Thing.

OK so this post has been a long time in the making! I may actually start a new tag/post series of my personal experiences with my misce identity and such, and call it "Misce and Me" since it's a cool little title.

The whole idea for this post in the first place started from an offhanded thought of, "my neck being a very sensitive erogenous zone is actually very omega of me, huh?" But I never managed to put it into words since I kept going on tangents and just struggling to explain what I meant in a concise way that could've been made into a short personal post, especially since there's a much longer story there that it ties in to, a sort of contextual "how I realized I have a super sensitive neck/what might've caused it" type thing. I'll have to put some warnings here and the rest of the post will be under the cut both for the sake of length and content. It's nothing explicitly sexual, but does brush on the topic at times.

Warning: some parts of this post will likely mention sexuality/related topics, and contains a lengthy story about a personal experience with a crush from years ago. This post will also likely be a long read, so I'm putting it under the cut ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Alright then. Let me get started.

This is an actual IRL thing that happened to me. I'm not mentioning the names of the people involved for obvious reasons.

As I said, originally this post was going to be very short, just a paragraph or two, about how my neck is very sensitive to touch in general and how people touching my neck can be either a fear trigger, or incredibly comforting and/or pleasant, depending on my mood and who is touching me, among other things. I was just going to talk about that at first, but then I realized how it actually ties in to a lot of other things, namely, what I tend to consider my "first heat", and the time that marks me "presenting" as an omega for the first time (i.e. starting to exhibit the traits of my dynamic). It's also a source for some of my personal headcanons regarding omegaverse and/or misce, since it comes from actual personal experiences.

Disclaimer 2: I feel it's necessary to state that all of this happened when both me and the person this is mostly about- someone I had an unrealized crush on- were around the age of 16 or 17. We never dated, and nothing explicit ever happened, but considering we WERE minors at the time (2015/2016ish), I want to be extra clear and state that no consent laws would have been broken in my country even if we HAD dated/anything had happened. Still, I want to keep things vague, especially about the other person, out of respect for privacy. Nobody (save for the person himself, maybe one or two close friends who were present to witness this all at the time, and the handful of people I've recounted this story to afterwards,) would be able to recognize either me or the other person from this.

"Hmm, I hear you, Gamie, but necks ARE erogenous zones for pretty much everyone? Are you sure it's not just that?"

The original topic of this post would have been just a short anecdote of "it's very omega of me to have such a sensitive neck", so let me start by prefacing and expanding on that a little;

My neck is very sensitive to touch, and I have strong reactions whenever it is touched, no matter what kind of touch- medical-related, platonic, romantic affection, or sexual, it's always noticeable, and has to do a lot with who is touching me. For example, medical professionals don't bother me so much since it's usually for a good reason but I do tend to wince/tense up regardless, and while I don't like my family touching my neck, sometimes I'll ask for a shoulder massage and it's unavoidable, so I don't mind too much, even though both cause some minor anxiety, which is likely to do with the fact that I feel vulnerable when my neck is touched. Meanwhile, close friends, or people who are flirting with me (and I'm receptive towards) touching my neck tends to send a lot of mixed signals that are usually pleasant, but also somewhat hesitant/embarrassed (depending on the situation). Partners (romantic/sexual) touching my neck almost always gets a positive reaction though, whether it's just stroking my neck/back of my head or more intimate acts, i.e. kissing etc. Because of the sensitivity, it's almost always a massive distraction and often also a turn-on for me. I tend to consider this to be inherently tied to my identity as an omega, even though it's not necessarily abnormal since necks in general do tend to be sensitive- mine is just a lot more than I assume most others'?

Back when I was around 16, 17 years old and went to high school, I had just started to figure out my gender identity (transmasc) a few years prior, and back then especially, I had this very, very strong feeling that I need to present as masculine as possible so that people will "take my gender identity seriously" instead of just thinking I'm "following a fad" or something. I actually passed as a boy so well that I was only really clocked when teachers would occasionally use the wrong name (deadname) and I'd have to correct them- thankfully, all were understanding about it.

Well, it might be. But to me, I just tend to associate it with being an omega specifically. And maybe mine is a bit more sensitive than usual as I said, though, I haven't exactly experienced living in the body of anyone BUT myself, so I can't say I know for sure. The reason I associate it so strongly with my being an omega has a lot to do with how and when I started REALLY noticing the sensitivity, as it happened around the same time I tend to associate as the time when I "first presented as an omega" and had my first heat. It'd been a thing all my life for sure, but it never felt like an erogenous zone, just a sensitive one, until I was maybe 16 or 17 years old and in (the local equivalent of) high school. I actually figure I'd go into a personal story of mine since I've been wanting to talk about it, just never found the chance to. So, I'm going to tell the misceblr my actual irl story of the time I had a crush and started presenting as an omega around the same time.

This may end up being quite lengthy, so get comfortable, I suppose. I'll start with some background to everything;

Well, in high school, it was also the first time I'd ever had someone flirt with me IRL, since I had been bullied for a long time before that, and had basically zero confidence beyond spite and anger at the people who had made my school years a living hell before then. I wasn't completely blameless either, but looking back now, I realize all my issues with others when I was younger were honestly just caused by my ADHD symptoms, and that went undiagnosed until this year.

The person who flirted with me was a cis guy, who I'd more or less assumed was straight, and so I just brushed it all off as like... oh he's just doing that "dudebro affection" thing, because at the time, I would mainly hang out with guys, and occasionally a few queer/nonbinary/ally friends who mainly were in different classes than my own. So, given that the group both he and I were in WAS mostly straight(ish???) Cis Dudes, I never really saw any of it as more than weird ways of showing affection, when this guy would do stuff like pet my hair or brush his hand against the back of my neck, or find any excuse to touch me in general, usually specifically the neck region (excuses such as, "Oh hey your hair is shorter did you get it cut?" And then touching the back of my neck/base of my skull under the disguise of feeling that "fresh haircut feel" or whatever. Yes, looking back, I was oblivious as hell). This kind of stuff had always made me tense up slightly and sent shivers down my spine, honestly likely because I hadn't ever had anyone touch my neck in a way that wasn't either completely accidental or obviously fully platonic, and it was emotionally difficult to process something that was so new and overwhelming. I used to think I didn't blush easily, but looking back, I'm certain he would've clearly seen me go red in the face from just those touches alone, and if he'd been straight, I imagine he would've commented on it and stopped, instead of persisting. (Also, I later found out he was very likely at least Bi, if not gay, but at that point we had already lost contact, sadly)

At some point during the fall semester, I had gone to school extremely tired, having a bad hair day, feeling sleep deprived and grumpy, probably about to get my period or something and hence even more irritable than usual. I was on time for class and went in, sat in the middle seats, next to some girls I knew well enough but weren't REALLY friends with, mainly because none of the guys I USUALLY sat with in this class had arrived yet, and I thought they might've been skipping class anyway. They eventually arrive after class has already started, and the guy who had been making advances towards me walks past to go to the back row seats (as usual) but on the way, he reaches towards me in an attempt to pet my hair/pat my head or something, a gesture he did often, and I actually usually enjoyed, however, this time I was worried about my hair, since I'd spent an hour trying to get it to look decent, and the amount of hairspray I'd used was probably not very healthy for my lungs (ah, my pop punk quirky phase was... something)- So as he touches my head, I send a sideways glare at him out of annoyance, maybe pushed his hand away as well if I recall correctly. Only- I'd already been in a bad mood all morning, and my glare must've been exceptionally cold, because his expression kind of dropped, and he hurried to his seat. I didn't think much of it at first, I'd rejected touches like that on occasion before and shown some frustration in the past when I'd been in a bad mood, and though he'd avoid me for a bit to let me cool off, he would always end up talking to me again in a day or two at least. This time, though, was a bit different.

I feel that I first "presented" as an Omega, somewhat tied to all of this happening with me and that guy, around that age. I had of course been aware of the omegaverse trope for a long time- I mean, I grew up reading fanfic, so duh- and to some degree related to (omegaverse), but didn't REALLY look for fics etc themed around it specifically. This guy, I won't describe him too much beyond that he was a bit taller than me and had a bit of a "skater guy" type style + would ride his skateboard around the halls no matter how much teachers told him to stop lmao. I never felt that he was "my type" in particular, but we clicked well with similar senses of humour and overall he was a comfortable presence in a way I hadn't really experienced before, especially since I'd dealt with so many bullies pretending to be friendly only to mock me later, but he was never like that at all, even when I was paranoid and pushed him away because I feared he WAS. He was also very touchy with me, as I already explained, and a lot of it adds up to me now as courting behaviors, and I do fully think thay if he were misce he'd almost certainly identify as an alpha.

But, anyway- looking back, there was a point in time when I started realizing that this guy probably was flirting with me- it didn't FULLY hit me until years later though, and when I first started suspecting it, it was more like a vague feeling that I couldn't fully confirm. It was actually a specific instance/situation that happened between me and him that finally clued me in and made me consider the possibility, and this instance is what I actually tend to think probably triggered my first heat too, so I'll talk briefly about that, but I also need to give some context of what had happened before;

It was some time around or just before the winter/christmas holidays, one of the last days of school before break, when we went to like, an art gallery or something similar- neither of us wanted to attend the church service since neither of us considered ourselves believers of the christian faith most common here anyway, AND it was a LOT more fun to look at some pop art than to sit in a church listening to some guy talk about jesus and whatnot. I had actually heard he woulf be going to the gallery so to some degree, I had planned to confront him there- I also figured that there would likely be some group/pair exercises, so I was able to use that opportunity to spend a bit of time around him and engage in some playful banter and joking around just like we had been, before I'd unintentionally given him the coldest death-glare fuelled by a lack of caffeine known to man. At first, he came across as really nervous and flighty, but I made sure to just be casual and joke around normally, to try and show him that he didn't need to fear interacting with me- I still don't know why it had been so upsetting to him at the time to be honest- maybe he was scared I was rejecting him or something- and why he had put so much energy in avoiding me, but honestly, seeing him relax slowly and realize that I truly had not meant to make him think I'd suddenly started hating his guts when I'd just woken up grumpy that day, and that there was no need to avoid me like that, considering I was treating him completely normally, if not even more friendly than before.

He avoided me for months. Even when we HAD TO share a class or were hanging out with the same friends (who in hindsight must've been going insane just watching this dumb af back-and-forth of me being oblivious and the guy being obvious). It actually genuinely confused me- I only figured later on what had caused it (my glare), and when I did, I started to try and look for ways to show him that I didn't hate him nor was I mad or upset at him, but he would quite literally slip away at the first possible chance, so I never was able to talk to him one-on-one enough, until a month or two at least had passed.

Anyway, after the art gallery tour ended, we were standing in the lobby of the building it was hosted in, chatting a bit, since I had finally been able to talk to him and things seemed to be back to normal. We had obviously missed on a month's worth of hanging out and chatting at school, after all, so I imagine the both of us were really relieved and happy to have things be alright again.

Now, Back then, I was in a strange quirky tumblr-influenced half-emo half-pop-punk phase where I would incorporate stuff from other styles and aesthetics kind of randomly as I saw fit, and at that specific time, I'd been really into steampunk-y stuff, and had taken to wearing these steampunk goggles I'd bought at some point either as a headband, or more commonly, around my neck, like a necklace, because I was 16-17ish and thought it was Cool And Different™ (year was like, 2015/2016? I think?) And I was having a very weird phase back then anyway... Well, he notices the goggles and comments on them and asks if he can take a closer look at said goggles, I say, oh sure yeah!, fully expecting him to wait for me to take them off and hand them to him to look, since, you know, at that age I was EMBARRASSINGLY oblivious, and genuinely thought he was actually interested in looking at the goggles (this one goes out for all the autistic friends I have who keep telling me I'm autistic. Maybe you're right.(/hj))

Instead, he grabs the goggles and pulls ME closer. By the neck. Not like, in a way that chokes me or hurt me in any way, more like a gentle tug- the goggles had an elastic band, so it was more like a slight tugging sensation at the back of my neck that made me take a step forwards and lean in- plus, he did it slowly enough that it wasn't like a sudden yank but more like a gentle, persistent tug. I could have very easily pulled back and told him I'd take them off so he could look, but honestly, I was a bit too mesmerized and didn't actually WANT to step away anyway. Yeah, it's cliché as hell now that I think about it- It's like a fanfic trope come to life, yknow, like pulling someone closer by their tie or whatever? But somehow real life. I was so surprised in the moment- not unpleasantly, but just, completely DID NOT expect to suddenly be barely a few inches away from his face (if that!) all of a sudden so I just completely freeze in place, confused and just baffled at the situation. In that moment I felt a lot of mixed feelings and signals, none bad, just very confused, because to ME it was very sudden and unexpected considering my utter obliviousness to all the previous moves he'd made on me. I think that was the point when I finally started suspecting that maaaaybe he had been flirting with me- or at least trying to test the waters with me, so to speak- this whole time (and even so, was in denial for years afterwards lmao- to this day I wonder if maybe I'm just reading into it too much and he honestly WAS just a dude being a bro and actually interested in the goggles after all). Honestly, to him, I must've looked truly ridiculous, wide-eyed, shocked/surprised expression, kinda frozen in place and not knowing what to do, and DEFINITELY blushing.

And to be honest my memory of the moment isn't the clearest because I was well and truly frozen like a deer in the headlights. All I remember is how the surprise felt like a bucket of ice water being poured over me because I didn't even dare to breathe at first, frozen in place and not knowing what to expect, and then melting really fast because I started feeling very dizzy and warm when my brain caught on (I imagine the realization made me blush, and that would have been the feeling of warmth or 'melting' as I put it). He DEFINITELY stayed like that way longer than necessary, just gently 'looking at the goggles' as though they were the most interesting object in the world- or, again, maybe they were, and I just FELT like the moment went on forever.

Anyway, nowadays, when I think of my life with the context of my misce identity, I tend to feel that this was the thing that triggered my first heat, because I remember that on our walk back to school, I'd started feeling strangely hot, sweaty and shaky, like, literally trembling afterwards- I felt hazy, almost feverish, and couldn't stop thinking about that moment at all (I think I explained what happened to an IRL friend and they just stared at me in confusion, like, "okay and???" As if it was not a big deal at all). Our school day was a lot shorter that day, because it was around the holidays, and I was so utterly confused about everything that the rest of the day is a complete blur to me, I barely remember getting a happy holidays type card from this other person who had kind of been pursuing me (which is an entirely different story) and some presents from friends. Iirc, I basically bolted home from school at the first opportunity, though iirc the guy (the one this whole thing has been about) also left me a card of some kind, but honestly at that point I was way too mushy-brained to retain many memories. I don't really even remember what happened when I got back home, but knowing me, and how I am when in heat, I can make a few educated guesses which I won't share.

Anyhow, I tend to think of that day as the day I'd had my first "heat" as an omega, because I remember feeling really warm, shaky, and just, all kinds of feelings. Honestly, at the time, I wasn't sure of my own feelings for him because I was just kind of confused about everything and still figuring it all out- I was a bit of a late bloomer when it came to romance, anyway, but looking back, I'm pretty damn sure I'd had a crush on him for quite a while as well, otherwise I wouldn't have been so sad and disappointed that he started avoiding me after I glared at him, and definitely would not have been so shocked and reacted so strongly to that situation in the art gallery lobby. I recall feeling like he had me under some sort of spell, honestly, which is kind of silly thinking back- but if he had pulled me any closer or, gods forbid, kissed me for example, I think my knees would've ACTUALLY given in right there. I wasn't far from it to begin with.

So the neck thing- I think, it started because someone I would classify/headcanon as an alpha (in omegaverse terms, not the, 'alpha male' kind, DUH), whom I was interested in, and who seemed to clearly be interested in me, kept finding excuses to touch my neck. It was always sensitive, and I could feel the touch sort of linger for a long time, days, at times. And after that incident, my neck has always been hypersensitive, ESPECIALLY during heats. It's actually to the point that if a partner touches me in a similar (romantic/sexual) way, my knees just go kind of weak immediately, and I feel dizzy, because it's overwhelming to me. Maybe it's because necks are vulnerable and sensitive, but for me it's specifically the back and sides of my neck that are the MOST sensitive, not necessarily the region of my windpipe/etc. Similarly, when it's a person I have no interest in who is touching me, I tense up, instead of "freezing and then melting" which is how I felt on That Day. It's a pretty strong signal to my brain that I should probably become pliant and relaxed and obedient, as well as a "hey maybe I should be getting aroused about this?" Brain-thing, BUT if it's coming from someone I don't see as a potential partner but who seems to have romantic or sexual intent regardless, it feels more like an attempt at dominating or controlling me, which causes some anxiety.

As an afterthought, I wanna add that there are close friends I have who could touch my neck and I wouldn't mind at all- either they're so close platonically that I'm fully okay with it, or I'm 110% confident there is absolutely ZERO sexual intent behind their actions. If anything, I'd probably just relax and feel drowsy, more than anything, if touched like that.

Basically, this instance has shaped a big part of my headcanons on scruffing, dynamic presenting, heats and heat triggers, and much more. I don't think that this random guy I haven't talked to in almost a decade actually made me "awaken as an omega" as some versions of omegaverse put it, but I do think that during that fall I was starting to present anyway, and the things he did (touching my neck, petting my hair, etc) affected things that trigger my heats because of the emotional/psychological associations. I think that I would have presented anyway, and had a first 'heat' around that time anyway, but I think my crush on him and his constant touchy-feely-ness definitely sped up the process.

It's kind of a shame that this was the closest we ever got, in a way- back then I was still in contact with a very abusive person who basically forbade me from interacting with other people almost entirely, and it was one of the biggest reasons I was so shy and hesitant around this guy, even when I wanted to reciprocate somehow. It's such a shame because I haven't ever really felt a similar kind of pull towards anyone else after that, the relationships I've been in since have all started because someone else had been interested in me first and approached and courted me, and I'd ended up slowly getting attached and becoming fond of them. Not that that's a bad way to get into a relationship when it works out- I mean more that there's never really been a similar feeling of complete breathlessness and being flustered and mesmerized the same way this guy was able to make me feel by just gently pulling at my neck a little. Other people have certainly tried, and most exes are aware my neck is a very sensitive spot for me, but it's never affected me quite so strongly since this guy back in High School. Maybe it's just because I was young and clueless and far more easily affected by flirting and such, sure- it's just a bit, I don't know, sad? I guess, since it never really went anywhere with that guy. We grew apart, and never ended up getting closer, and I've never had the chance to let him know I was interested in him the whole time, nor explain the actual situation with the glare I gave him and why it must've seemed so out-of-nowhere (when the truth was I'd just had the shittiest morning imaginable to my teenage self). I did follow him on a social media app with my personal profile some time ago recently though, and he followed me back, so maybe one day we'll reconnect properly, but who knows. It's pretty cliché and I don't actually hold out any hope that the same person who had me weak in the knees in high school would be similarly magnetic to me now that I'm an actual adult, nearly a decade older than I was back then- it's more like, I just have a few regrets, and wish I'd said something back then? But most of all, I hope I can experience a similar kind of attraction again some day, regardless of who it is for. A crush like that, when the other person is also giving signals, is very magical, and the smallest things feel super flustering. It's even better when the other person is a genuinely good person, like he was. Definitely leagues above the trash I was settling for back then because I had zero self-confidence and thought that nobody who actually treated me kindly and with respect would ever truly love me.

Actually, I could honestly talk about that guy for quite a long while, since I have a lot of fond memories of him, and high school in general, but I'd end up going on for even longer, and my main point was to just tell the story of the time I started 'presenting' as an omega (though I didn't know that's what it was until much later), and what I consider to be my first actual heat, as well as talk about the fact that my neck is extremely sensitive and it's always been kind of amusing to me since it's a VERY omega thing.

To the guy I'm talking about, if you somehow find this and thus my blog, firstly, I'm sorry THIS is how you (most likely) find out that I actually had a crush on you the whole time and SECONDLY, I am so sorry you now have to know I'm into some (relatively) weird things. Dm me?

Oh and to anyone who is NOT that guy but recognizes this story and now knows who I am, you didn't see SHIT. Look away, bitch, erase this from your brain, none of your business.

Uhm. Anyway, I wanted to add a bit more about the neck sensitivity, since it's the source of my headcanons for how omegas in general would have very sensitive necks (which is one reason for why some choose to wear collars or chokers or other similar accessories, as a way to feel more "protected" or "covered up")

I ended up discovering a lot of these things later on as an adult, in other relationships I had, but.

Most of my neck is very sensitive. The front (throat) has some spots, but the most noticeably erogenous areas are the sides of my neck, the spots right below my ears and jawbone, and the back of my neck from where my back connects to my neck, all the way up to the base of my skull. The types of touch that tend to get the strongest responses out of me are usually the, someone placing their hand on the back of my neck gently but like, firmly enough to make me aware of it, especially if they're using that to guide me around etc. It feels like a subtle physical "sign of claiming/courting someone", or a signal of intending to do so.

General Headcanons;

Since I tend to imagine bonding bites would be on the back of the neck (muscles, less vessels and delicate structures to injure, etc), it's a sort of headcanon that touching that region in general is a pretty flirtatious/strong signal of intended courtship when done to an omega. It's not necessarily only a courtship/flirtation thing, it could also be a sort of equivalent to scruffing, an action that feels reassuring and causes the omega to subconsciously relax and become calm and agreeable IF done by someone they trust (friend or partner or family, etc). I imagine that some alphas and betas also do it to their omega partners in public on occasion to show to others who might seem interested in the omega, that the omega is already being "courted" or "claimed" (especially when no bonding/mating bites are visible or present for whatever reason). Since the action of placing a hand on the back of an omega's neck is basically covering their scent glands, it has a similar message as kissing your partner some stranger has been oogling, just to let them know they're "not available". I tend to headcanonize that it's seen as rude and intrusive to do it to omegas you do NOT know well, for example first dates, one-night-stands, or people you've just started getting to know, and people who do that before there's been any signals of interest or even courtship are, in many cultures, seen as the asshole type who is just trying to get into the pants of any omega they see. It's not quite a form of PDA, more like a social cue that expresses both interest and intent to the omega without being overly obvious or intimate, as well as gives some "hey back off" type vibes to other people. I imagine this works with betas and alphas too, to some extent, but when done to any other dynamic it's generally seen more as a protective or friendly gesture, instead of one that expresses romantic/sexual interest in any way, since my headcanon is that omegas in general have the most sensitive necks out of any dynamic.

[volivolition]

[guy with chronic pain voice] i should draw pain threshold

[cannibalistic-suggestions]

Passion and suffering. Pleasure and pain. Can't have one without the other. I can't imagine them being separate. That's how its always been for me. If I felt one I would surely feel the other, in what some would call "unfortunate," and what some would call "perversion."

I feel everything so deeply, intensely. My emotions are too "extreme." Surely this must be my punishment for that. My inability to moderate my obsessions just made me get used to the agony that accompanied it. The lows turned into highs and when I crashed it'd all start over again, a cycle.

I thought that with you I would finally be content. Your sweet sunshine self that pierced through the storm clouds that invaded my psyche, your comforting presence accompanied by that fragrant flower scent, intoxicating, that I would gladly drown in. I loved your gentle dazed eyes, like melting candies. Everything about you, I thought it would satisfy me, finally keep me happy. That's why I had to have you, more than just clinging by my side. But maybe that was the storm coming in, showering my brain in false excitement to receive the resounding thunder of an intense thought with joy.

Was looking forward to it. But something's missing, and I can't understand why. What went wrong? Saudade turns sour in my mouth: sickening, debilitating, like I'd throw up. Oh, that would be in vain. I must brave through this melancholy without a medicine, though my suffering isn't noble like a martyr's. It's tainted—sin—because I'm the one who poisoned myself looking for a cure to my "addiction."

I passed my lips over your skin, both when it was dead and still alive. Chewing. Sucking. Tearing, grazing. Ripping, swallowing. Filaments thinner than a delicate flower petal's width tantalize my tastebuds like honey with an added spice. Flakes dissolve on my tongue just as the powder of your dandruff does. Your nails click against my teeth, one of the few sounds I remember after you, a garden buzzing with life, went silent. After a crop pest's ravage, it was to be expected, but I had told myself I did it because I loved you, suffocating you in a swarm of my affections. And when the clouds cleared, there was nothing that remained, not even bone.

Indulging in pleasures of the flesh. I wanted to find pleasure in your flesh, even while you were in agony, in your last moments. Your tears had been like sweet nectar and I needed more. I ate it all up, but it wasn't appetizing enough. There was almost guilt—who was I to act like a petulant child, whining for dessert and then barely even finishing it when it was actually awarded to me? I don't know what's wrong with me. Or maybe I do, but to admit it would be ritual suicide. Why couldn't I just savor it, enjoy it, take it and be done with it. I had wanted it, no? I thought it'd make me happy; well, why hasn't it?

why is it not enough?

[tenrose]

Now that I gave my family their Christmas gifts, I can now enter a bookstore and gift myself (very generously) 🤗

[dilf-docs]

All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!! use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me), pedro wearing a skirt tehee

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace is rather frenetic.

"I miss your tummy" you pout.

"I miss eating too" he whispers out, tiredly. He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

"No matter how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who will totally notice the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

[pathologicalreid]

wavelength | s.r.

in which your son ends up in the hospital on one of the BAUs busiest nights of the year

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (hurt/comfort) content warnings: child in hospital with unnamed illness, seizures, pregnant!reader, boy dad!spencer, MRIs, head injury word count: 1.96k a/n: this is my little reid family from three's a family, but as usual, you don't have to read that one to understand this one. (it's one of the cryptic pregnancy ones so maybe keep that in mind lmao) - welcome back to the spencer reid dilf agenda, i missed it

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your thumbs enough to press the call button, tapping the green icon, you press your phone to your ear, listening to the rings as you keep your other hand on the bed in front of you.

Sniffling, Leo holds your hand in his much smaller one, “Mama?” His voice is little more than a whine, and you find yourself wishing he’d fall asleep while you wait for his turn in radiology.

“Yeah, lovey?” You whisper, squeezing his fingers gently as he looks at you with sad eyes.

His eyes were sad in a way that only a three-year-old’s could be, not quite understanding why he had to stay in the hospital, and continuously asking for his parents. “I don’t feel good,” he mumbles, his voice soft as he shifts on his side in the hospital bed.

Your shoulders slouch ever so slightly, trying not to show him how much of his displeasure you shared, “I know. I’m so sorry.” They were holding off on giving him more medication, but it just made him miserable.

Starting to wonder if they could just give him something to help him rest, you distantly hear your name being called, taking a moment to be confused before you remember that you called Spencer.

“Hey,” you greet a little breathlessly, “Are you working?” You move your hand, smoothing back Leo’s hair in an attempt to coax him to sleep.

You hear a shuffling of papers on the other end of the call, answering your question well enough before he responds verbally, “We’re just trying to finish a few things up before calling it a night.”

Bowing your head, you sigh, “Right, you have that senate review next week.”

Spencer groans at the reminder of the meeting, “And finding some of these files is proving to be difficult. I think Garcia’s just about had it, but we’re all starting to get to that point. Why the call? Not that I’m unhappy to hear your voice,” he clarifies. “Did Leo get to sleep alright?”

You falter slightly knowing that Spencer is already stressing about work, “Honey,” you start softly, “Leo’s alright, but I had to call an ambulance for him about an hour ago.”

“What happened? You said he’s alright?” He asks, fear changing the pitch of his voice.

Swallowing thickly, you watch Leo continue to fight sleep, his brown eyes watching you while you’re on the phone. “They think he had a seizure,” you whisper, keeping your voice down so that your son doesn’t catch onto your anxiety.

There’s a shuffle of papers on the other end, “Is he sick? Was it a febrile seizure?”

“Uh, no, hold on,” you flip through the pamphlet, “They called it a drop seizure when we were in the emergency room, and they did an EEG.” You explain, reading over the papers in front of you for the nth time.

Spencer talks to someone else in the room, hopefully letting them know that he has to leave, “What happened?”

Tears prick your eyes, and you look up into the fluorescent light to will them away, “I was just getting him ready for bed, and he went to go potty, and he just fell. He hit his head on the tub and I just… I panicked,” you admit the last part. “I was not very collected, and the 911 operator knew that,” you tell him, watching Leo’s eyes finally fall shut.

“I wouldn’t have been either,” Spencer assures you, “What hospital did they bring you to?”

Rattling off the name of the hospital, you risk assuming that Leo’s asleep enough for you to step back, enabling you to speak at a higher volume, “Can you leave work?” You weren’t even thinking about how busy the BAU was when you called, you were just thinking about getting Leo his dad. “They want to do an MRI, and he’s allowed to have someone in there with him, so he doesn’t get scared,” you explain.

“But you can’t,” Spencer needlessly reminds you.

A huff of frustration escapes your lips as you look down, eyes focusing on where your shirt catches on the soft swell of your lower belly. “No, I can’t,” you say miserably.

A nurse walks through the door, sparing a pitying glance at you, the pregnant mom whose toddler was in the PICU, before checking on Leo’s vitals. Spencer clears his throat, “I’m already on my way.”

You lose track of time, sitting in the reclining chair that lives in the corner of the PICU room, and memories of Leo’s first month of life start to flash in front of your eyes. He was a thirty-two-weeker, and he spent twenty-nine days in the NICU before coming home for the first time.

You felt like a failure then, and you feel like a failure now.

Tapping your fingers on your belly, you watch Leo sleep, his body curled up on the hospital bed and collodion stuck to his forehead. You remember finding out you were pregnant again, the overwhelming joy that mixed with the stunned fear like oil and water—Spencer had to remind you to breathe.

Something caught your attention, a small, high-pitched beep from one of Leo’s monitors sent a group of people flying into the room, standing around your son and listing off things that your fear-addled brain couldn’t comprehend.

He’s there when you stand up, Spencer stays at your side for all twenty-one seconds of Leo’s second seizure, watching as strength returns to his tiny body and his eyes open, “Mama?” His small voice calls out for you, afraid of being surrounded by doctors and nurses that he doesn’t know.

Slipping away from Spencer, you make your way back to the hospital bed, hovering over your son as you cup his cheeks affectionately, “I’m here, baby.” Hiding your face to wipe tears away, your fear that he still feels ill is only exacerbated by the fact that he doesn’t insist that he’s not a baby—he’ll always be yours, though.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you let him see past you, the way his eyes light up at the sight of his father, “Daddy!” He chirps, trying to reach out for Spencer.

“Hey, buddy,” Spencer says, his voice tight while he crouches in front of Leo, “Mama says you don’t feel good.”

Leo shakes his head, “I hit my head,” he recounts mournfully, “then we had to go in the loud car.”

Your husband frowns for a moment before he realizes Leo’s talking about the ambulance, “Did they tell you I get to go with you to get your tests done?” He warps the narrative to make the MRI seem like a fun activity—something they get to do.

“Can mama go?” Leo asks, tilting his head to the side slightly, leaning into you as he does so.

Gently, you wrap an arm around him, dressed in a pediatric hospital gown with all kinds of wires and electrodes attached to him. “Mama has to stay up here,” Spencer breaks the news to him, sparing you a sympathetic glance, “but she’ll be here when we get back. Then, we can tell her and the baby all about it.”

The baby won’t be able to hear outside voices until you’re much further along, but when Spencer tried to explain that to your toddler, the only response he’d gotten was Why?

As it turns out, even Spencer Reid has a limit to the number of questions he can answer, so you let Leo talk to the baby. “I’ll be right here when you get back,” you reassure Leo, taking a shaky breath when he wraps his arms around you.

He’s in tears by the time they come to get him, only willing to go to radiology if they let his daddy carry him there.

You’ve let go of the hope that this was all just a freak incident, but the looks that the nurses have started exchanging squashed that optimism immediately. Taking the opportunity to lie on the hospital bed, you try to reassure yourself—if Spencer didn’t seem worried, you shouldn’t be worried.

Though Spencer wouldn’t show his concern to you, he certainly wouldn’t do it with Leo in the room.

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but you’re woken up by something being set on your side, your eyes cracking open just enough to watch Spencer lay Leo down on the bed next to you. “Hey,” Spencer whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “I was trying not to wake you up.”

Cringing at the brightness of the room, you watch Leo as he curls into your side, “How did he do?”

“He was great,” Spencer says, gently ruffling the sleeping boy’s hair. “He fell asleep about halfway through,” he informs you, carefully pulling a chair up to the bedside.

You hum, making sure Leo is snug in his blanket before turning back to Spencer, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner.”

Spencer shakes his head dismissively, “It’s okay,” he whispers, mindful of the hour—it’s nearing midnight now.

Reaching a hand up to cover your mouth, you hiccup a sob, “I’m a bad mom.”

“You are not a bad mom,” Spencer responds quickly, peeling your hand from your mouth and taking it in his hand.

Your lower lip quivers, “This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been born so early.”

Spencer’s face softens, squeezing your hand comfortingly, “That wasn’t your fault. That was a situation that you didn’t have any control over.”

Deep down, you know he’s right, but your mom guilt that was on the surface level made the truth hard to see. “I couldn’t even hold his hand while he got an MRI,” you cry, small tears falling from your eyes.

“Honey,” Spencer murmurs, carefully wiping the tears from your cheeks, “You’re pregnant. Even more, you’re high risk,” Spencer reminds you as if it’s something you’re soon to forget. “There’s no way I would’ve let you in that room. You can blame that on me if you’d like.”

Leo shifts next to you, garnering your attention for just a moment before you turn back to Spencer, “I thought an MRI was better for pregnant women.”

Sighing, Spencer looks at you fondly, “Compared to a CT, an MRI is the better option if it’s medically necessary. Logically, I’m well aware of this, but I do find myself more protective over you these days,” he admits, eyes flickering down to your bump.

You bite the inside of your cheek, “I should’ve been watching him before he hit his head.”

Your husband dismisses your concern immediately, “We’ve been teaching him privacy, he’s proud that he gets to go potty on his own.”

“Why won’t you let me feel guilty?” You ask, frowning at him.

He hums in response, “Because you aren’t guilty. Your baby is in the hospital, and you might have some unresolved issues from when he was in the NICU.” He takes a deep breath, “and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re tired, and you have a lot of conflicting emotions and hormones that you’re struggling with.”

Leaning your head back on the pillow, you sigh loudly, “You know me too well.”

“I also know that our son loves you, and what happened tonight was not your fault,” he reiterates. “Whatever is going on with him, we’ll figure it out, okay? The four of us are going to be just fine.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you nod in understanding and listen to the soft whistle of Leo’s nose as he exhales. “We’ll be just fine,” you echo, intertwining your fingers with Spencer’s and preparing yourself for what’s bound to be a long night.

[bingusbongusminghiskinghis]

Dang I look fucking horrific holy shit

[scooter-sketch]

Reposting this for shits and giggles bc I don't expect asks about this lol. But I'll answer some in the tags

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

[pyrodolls]

hi i was wondering if you would do headcannons of the yan!fanboy if reader actually noticed him coming to all their shows and events

obsessed (superfan! yandere boy x gn!popstar reader)

warnings: stalking, average yandere tendencies, nsfw, perverted yandere, gender neutral reader, mentions of naked reader but no genitalia addressed, dom reader, reader is compliant with the yandere and teases him a ton, lowercase intended. btw i do not condone yanderes irl.

a/n: i hope y'all know i read every single one of your asks, comments, and reblogs. i appreciate them all and they do brighten my day. i'm just saying this so y'all know that the stuff you send to other writers (not just me) matters a lot!! when you interact it gives them inspiration!!! and motivation!! me personally sometimes i see ONE kind reblog and i immediately get my ass up and start writing something just because of that one person. don't get me wrong, i still love all my lurkers that silently like a ton of my stuff, y'all are important too. anyways i'll shut up now onto the hcs. (btw this ended up being a fic instead of hcs i apologize. i went crazy over this i'm sorry anon LMAO)

"hey, you look pretty familiar. have you been to a few shows before?" you asked kindly, facing the short man in the front row of the audience.

bayani froze as the stadium's screens pointed to him. he opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but nothing came out. his face went red and his throat went dry. did you actually notice him, or was he just dreaming?

after a few seconds of waiting for an answer, you shrugged. "sorry, maybe i mistook you for someone else. anyways..."

the yandere boy still didn't move, with his mouth agape, as you continued on with your show. the people around bayani didn't seem to care, assuming that he was just a starstruck fan. but it was more than that. much more than that.

out of the millions of fans that attend your shows and events, you recognized him among them. you noticed him. and he didn't know how to handle it. what was he supposed to say? what would you even talk about? sure, he's seen all of your interviews and heard your music and dissected your lyrics for hours every single day, but would you ever want to interact with him as much as he wanted to interact with you? he was just a lowlife. he had an average job, average amount of money, he lived in a shitty apartment, and he had no friends or major accomplishments. all of his free time outside of work was spent on you. spent on following your every move and investigating everything you've put your hands on. if you ever spoke to him, you'd probably think he was some sort of pathetic stalker.

that thought drove him mad. he couldn't even focus on the rest of your concert. he didn't hear the blaring music and screams from the crowd. he wasn't paying attention to your performance, either.

he could only stand there and imagine the punishments you'd inflict on him if you found out about his obsession. would you call your security to take him away? he'd hope not. if he's going to be kicked and pushed around, perhaps even handcuffed, he'd rather you do the job rather than some random guard. but maybe he'd accept the punishment, only because you were the one who deemed it necessary. he takes your word like gospel, so he'll take whatever punishment you want, even though he would prefer your hands on him while you do it.

his imagination ran wild as your concert finished and you walked off the stage with your dancers. the crowd of fans in the stadium dispersed around him, moving along with their day. but bayani couldn't just move on with his day knowing that you know he exists now. how is he supposed to simply move on from that? he spent a long time making sure you never noticed him. even though he attended every single one of your concerts and events, he did not want to be noticed. he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. but it finally happened. he finally got a taste of what it's like to be seen by the love of his life. he couldn't just leave it at that. he had to do something about it.

being under your gaze, even if it was only a few seconds, made him feel like he went to heaven. it made all of the hundreds of dollars he spent on you worth it. all of the hours he spent listening to your music and watching videos of you was worth it. it was like he awoke from a slumber. a long, miserable slumber. he had to find a way to thank you. say something to you. he messed up when he simply froze after you saw him. who knows when he'll get another chance like that?

it took a few hours for the stadium to be empty, and the security started to shoo bayani away. but when he went outside, the parking lot was still full. your concert ended hours ago, but there was still loads of cars trying to leave. it would be frustrating, but bayani had to find a way out quickly.

he climbed on the back of a nearby truck and rested his legs there, waiting patiently for the vehicle to move out of the traffic. even though he knew the truck wouldn't go anywhere near your mansion, he knew how to get to your house on foot. he only needed to rest on the truck until the traffic was gone.

after a few hours on the road, he jumped out of the vehicle, and started to walk to your mansion on foot. he didn't need to look up the location online, because he already knew where it was. he visited your home many times in the past, he just never attempted to go inside before.

his veins were on fire and he started to sweat the closer he got. he was starting to have second thoughts about his idea. but there was no time to go back, because he already showed up to your house before he could change his plans.

to get inside, he had to climb up a tree, jump off of it, and land in your backyard. he used that trick often in the past, since it was not his first time going to your house. he often snuck on your property to watch or take pictures of you while you slept.

he tried opening your bedroom window, but it was locked. he had to try a different one.

he went over to a window beside your bedroom, and thankfully, it was unlocked. but the moment he opened the window, he heard the sound of water running and your familiar voice humming a song. were you in the shower?

bayani climbed inside as quietly as possible, and closed the window behind him. his suspicions were correct. he was in your bathroom, and you were taking a shower. your curtains covered up your figure, so he couldn't see you.

bayani looked to the side of the room and saw a pile of your dirty clothes on the floor. he ran up to it and immediately took a large whiff at the pile. it smelled divine to him. he couldn't get enough of it. he quickly spotted your used underwear in the pile and snatched it without thinking, then he stuffed it in his pocket. you wouldn't notice, right?

before he could take the rest of your clothes, the water suddenly stopped. bayani ran to hide, in a spot where you couldn't see him but he could see you. you opened the shower curtains and stepped out with a towel in your hands. you were completely naked, and still drenched in water. bayani felt like he died and went to heaven again that day. he couldn't believe what he was seeing. you were completely naked, right in front of his eyes. ignoring the puddle in his pants, he nervously fumbled around his pockets, trying to find his phone. there was no way he could pass up an opportunity like this. without hesitation, he snapped a photo of you.

but he didn't notice that the flash was on.

he froze, and you looked towards him. neither of you said a word, and bayani saw his future flash before his eyes. you would probably scream for security and he would get taken away to prison, never to see your face again. his life would be over.

"you're the guy i've been seeing everywhere, huh?" you whispered.

"...are you going to, uh... send me away?" bayani gulped.

you thought about it for a moment. this guy clearly cared a lot about you, because you saw him literally everywhere you went. no matter what country you visited, he was always there. even if you didn't tell a single soul where you were going, he was somehow always there. you even saw him on your property a few times, so you knew how crazy he was. but you still let him do it. and you never reported him, either. you knew exactly what he wanted. you could always hear him moaning outside your window, knowing he would have one hand down his pants and a camera on the other.

he was cute, so why not have some fun with him?

"come here." you commanded. he followed your order without thinking, immediately falling down to his knees in front of you.

you grabbed his chin, and made him look up at you. he felt hot tears well up in his eyes as you stared him down. he didn't say a word, but you knew exactly what he was thinking.

you pressed your knee against the wet stain on his pants, and he let out a pathetic whimper. he was getting off on it.

he didn't know what to do. his dreams were finally coming true. he got noticed by you, got into your house, saw you naked, and you finally touched him. he was overwhelmed, and started crying. he didn't mean to look so weak in front of you for a first impression, but he couldn't help it. besides, he'd make a fool out of himself any day for you.

"you're so pathetic.. you've been stalking me for so long, and now you break into my house to see me naked. i could call the police and have you arrested..." you whispered, as you started putting more pressure on his crotch, moving your knee up and down on it, and inching your face closer to his.

he sobbed, “please, don't! i promise, it'll never happen again. i'll stop, i'll do whatever you want, i'll-"

you cut him off by connecting your lips to his, setting his heart on fire. you pulled away after a few seconds, leaving him speechless. there's no way you just kissed him. he had to be dreaming.

and then you moved your knee away from his crotch right before he could cum, making him let out a whimper and crumble to the ground.

"thanks for letting me have some fun with you. we can do this again soon.. if you be a good boy and return my underwear." you winked, walking away and leaving bayani a hard, pathetic, leaking mess on your bathroom floor.