#period mention cw

[fymo-blogs]

MY PERIOD HAS STARTED

/vneg

[habibisagi]

JUST GOT MY PERIOD AND JUST LIKE MY CRAMPS MY POSTS WILL GET WORSE 🫶

[the-iron-orchid]

Sleep prompts - 25 for Jinana/Julian 19 for Jinana/Nadia

[Sleepy Prompts]

25: “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

One set of eyes glows briefly in reflected moonlight as Jinana returns to the bedroom - Anjali, watching from her accustomed place, curled up on the foot of Jinana's side of the vast bed. But then s/he sees a second pair of of eyes, catching the light in a faint gleam as they slide open.

"Sorry to to wake you, love," s/he murmurs. "Go back to sleep."

Instead, Julian stirs, levering himself up on one long arm. "What's wrong, darling?" he asks, his voice rusty and blurred with sleep, yet sharp with concern.

"Just the monthly trouble. I took the tincture you made, and I've got the pillow Heron made for me." Filled with wooden beads, scented with lavender, and enchanted to give off a soothing warmth, it has also (rather charmingly) been made to resemble a ladybug.

Julian lifts the blankets for hir, pulling hir into his arms as s/he gets back into the bed. S/he curls up against him, the warming pillow against hir belly, his hands massaging gently at hir lower back. "Does that help, darling?"

"Mmmmhm." The tincture is fast-acting; soon hir eyelids are heavy, and even as the motion of Julian's hands begin to slow in his own drowsiness, s/he is asleep.

--- 19: “Stop fighting it. You need sleep.”

Her long, long hair is in an untidy bun, tendrils escaping all over; there is a smudge of paint on her cheek, which is otherwise innocent of makeup. A faint redness is creeping in from the corners of her eyes, shadows forming below. She has chipped one of her manicured nails, unnoticed.

She still looks beautiful.

When the inspiration takes her, she can work far into the small hours of the night. But it is rare that Nadia gets to indulge in her hobbies for such an uninterrupted period of time; it is even more rare for another to witness such a thing.

A soft curse escapes her lips as excess solder flows into the delicate joint she is making; quickly, she wicks it away. She then sits back with a sigh, rubbing at her eyes.

"You've been at this for hours." Jinana stands behind Nadia's seated form, kneading gently with her thumbs where neck meets shoulders and the muscles are tightest. S/he knows what it's like when hyper-focused on a single task, the hours melting away like minutes, but it does have its cost. "You should rest."

"I'm so close to being done," Nadia protests.

"Yes, but it will only take longer if fatigue causes you to make mistakes."

She groans, closing her eyes and letting her head tip forward to stretch the muscles of her neck. There is a brief, telltale jerk as sleep threatens to overtake her.

"Your body is practically crying for sleep. Stop fighting it." Jinana puts a touch of firmness in hir tone, and Nadia chuckles.

"Yes, Inquisitor." Her hands come up over Jinana's own, covering them entirely. "Will you stay with me?"

S/he smiles. "I will. Julian doesn't return until tomorrow... though of course, then I get to spend my time convincing him to sleep."

Nadia tips her head back, looking up at hir with a tired smile, then brings one of Jinana's hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to the palm. "Poor Jinana. Truly, we are all a trial to you."

S/he laughs. "As if I would have it any other way."

[oculusxcaro]

Another side effect of the experiments Khare underwent is that her cycles effectively shut down. She no longer has periods but is now infertile as a result of their genetic meddling.

[humanitysong]

"'Aight, I'm here in the tampon/pad isle, needle-noggin. What size pussy you wear?"

he is a pacifist at heart but wolfwood makes it hard to not occasionally wish to throttle the other. just a little. "...just bring a regular and super." he is never going to send wolfwood to the store again. for anything.

unprompted asks ( always accepting ) // @wolfcross .

[humofnight]

me, having recovered from Tummy Hurt disease: fantastic, I can start my week now.

my body: hehehe period time! let’s be acutely aware of some other internal organs <3

[kizzyedgelll]

i want to cry because i love men i trust so much?? i think i'm about to have my period lmao

[thetricktoholdingon]

I had pms cramps at the office today, which absolutely sucked because usually I can make myself feel better if I just lay on my back on the floor. But you can’t do that when you’re in the office because every 30 seconds or so I’d have people asking me if I’m okay

[clownyclaushoe]

blood red

art the clown x reader 🔞

afab reader, period sex, overuse of the pet name baby, but art is a baby - he's my babie boo. (i know i already added this to my other post and i don't want it to be like i'm spamming the tags but i'm actually really happy with this and i want people to see it. plus i NEVER finish fics this quickly so i'm happy about that. part of me feels like i didn't take this as far as i could have, if that even makes sense idk 😅😭)

you knew you were about to start your period all day. your cycle was always regular and there were the familiar pre-period symptoms like lower back soreness and a particular kind of fatigue. but you swear art could smell its impending presence every time. unsurprisingly, he would become animalistic, unable to satiate the craving over each of the five days of your period. it would've been too much for your drained body, if it weren't for the unshakeable pleasure he gave you each time.

you also appreciated and loved how art wasn't horrified or disgusted, as many men, even friends and an ex-boyfriend, had been at even the mere mention of the dreaded p-word.

art stepped behind you, placing his hands over your hips, moving them around to your bloated belly, his touch firm but gentle. you nearly swooned every time he exerted such restraint, knowing the supernatural strength he possessed, how he could tear your heart out of your chest as easily as one flicks a speck of lint from their sleeve.

you leaned back into his embrace, knowing what was on his mind. "baby, i'm only spotting. i thought we'd just have a quiet, cozy night, hm?" you say, sweetly, looking at him with big, doe eyes.

he nuzzled at your neck, his right hand shifting to the crotch of your sweatpants, fingers flexing just right to press the menstrual pad against your clit. he knew you weren't being truthful. sometimes it was just too much fun not to tease him a little.

"oh, art," you whimper, eyes rolling closed, imagining the grin spreading across his face at hearing you sound so needy for him already. but the truth was no matter how tired, sick, or busy you were, you always were needy for every part of him - and he damn well knew it too - his fingers caressing every inch of your flesh; his mouth pressed against your pussy; his tongue fucking so deep inside you; and his cock -- his long, thick cock, thrusting inside you at an unrelenting pace, able to hit your gspot with ease.

he walked you over to your shared bed, tugging down your sweats and underwear to the floor, pausing for you to sit on the bed for him to remove the unwanted clothes, taking a moment to notice the mess you'd made and to sniff at it, the intoxicating metallic scent filling his nostrils all the more. you lie down and art gets on the bed, kneeling between your legs, gripping your thighs and gazing down at your pussy, blood collecting between your folds. art licked his lips and wiggled his brows.

you laugh, shaking your head at your ridiculous clown boyfriend. "don't make me wait any longer, baby. i know you love how my blood feels, how it tastes."

he nods, tilting his head, his right hand moving to gaze along your puffy pussy lips, fingertips pushing between your folds, and down to slip the middle and ring digits inside you, your wetness and blood making the motion smoother. he curls his fingers to stroke your gspot while thumbing at your clit.

"oh fuck," you circle your hips to meet his hand. "another finger, please, baby, please." art obliges you, knowing how much you love feeling so full of him.

he slips the index in along with the other two, stretching you so much as he continues to fingerfuck you, pushing you closer to orgasm.

"you're so fucking good, baby, ahh. don't stop -- don't you dare fucking stop." you gasp, gripping his shoulder.

he pauses his hand deep inside you, continously pressing against your gspot, and you swear you feel just a fraction of his supernatural strength - the slight pain adding to the pleasure - his face contorting to a snarl with the effort.

you come, your body thrashing - not unlike art's victims- as he resumes thrusting his fingers inside and out, watching his blood covered digits. as the warm flicker of your climax passes, you lie back, catching your breath in the afterglow, orgasm helping ease your cramps.

art pulls out his red soaked fingers, raising them to show them off with a wave, and you can't help but be reminded of the song, red right hand. you tell him and he silently laughs, throwing his head back and smacking his knee. then he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking and sucking at the blood, and shimmying his shoulders.

"why don't you put that mouth to better use, baby?" art goes wide eyed, gaping at you, and it could've been mistaken for genuine coyness, but you knew better. it was apparent from your first time together that he knew exactly what he was doing.

he leans down, nearer to your pussy and sniffs the even stronger scent of your menstrual blood, then ducks down to attach his mouth to your pussy, sucking and licking at your labia, ravenous and rough.

"oh, art," you exclaim, on the verge of tears, "you're so good for me, baby. the fucking best."

the praise urges him on, and as much as its true that art does what he wants, when he wants, you've come to learn he also loves following direction and seeking approval - at least from you, laps up appraisal like a puppy.

he flicks his tongue over your clit while staring up at you, the intensity of his gaze almost too much to bear.

"i'm close, baby, you're gonna make me come all over your sexy face."

you let out a squeak as art closes his lips around your clit, sucking hard.

"oh my -- fuck," you gasp, your back arching as your second orgasm grips you like a vice. art's hand trails up your body to squeeze at your tit, and you moan like a whore for him, only for him.

his tongue plunges into your pussy, fucking your hole, and your orgasm intensifies somehow, in a way that only art could do, and you're gushing into his waiting mouth.

art tilts his head up enough to grin and show the smears of blood all over his face, and dripping from his mouth. you giggle at the sight, somehow falling even more in love with him, he endears himself to you so much. he gently nibbles and kisses at your inner thigh, as a sign of gratitude.

"you're welcome, baby. and thank you."

---

hope you all enjoyed! 🖤❤🖤❤

© angeljeonjkk 2024

[tanuki-kimono]

Cw: We are going to talk here about periods, and sex education in the past. Read this note according to your own sensibilities :)

How women dealt with periods during Edo period, article by shunga enthousiast Shungirl who made a paper pad following instructions found in makura bunko 枕文庫 - ie ancient sex books illustrated with erotic ukiyoe.

One of such makura bunko is 渓斎英泉 Keisai Eisen's 閨中紀聞-枕文庫, first published in 1822. It details Chinese remedies recipes for menstrual pains and irregularities, give tips about sex, and information about menstruations and pregnancy. From a modern point of view, some beliefs are outdated, but it was then such a bestseller it went through several reeditions.

Several words were apparently in use during Edo era to designates menstrual period: keisui 経水, gekkei 月経, tsukiyaku 月水, etc.

When girls went throught their first period, their females relatives or nannies would taught them how to deal with them. One method was to use paper as sanitary products (please note people without easy access to paper probably dealt with periods differently).

__________ 御馬 paper pads

Sanitary pads, such as the one recreated above by Shungirl, were then called mima 御馬 (probably as a pun on true "mima" which were then fine horses own by noblemen, or attached to sanctuaries as mounts for gods etc) or simply ouma お馬 ("honorable" horse).

Ouma were made from inexpensive recycled paper called Asakusagami 浅草紙. Sheets were folded 8 times, tied with twisted paper strings (koyori 紙縒), and then wrapped with another layer of folded paper. It was secured once again with paper strings.

Part of the strings could be left long so to tie around the waist, or/and pad was hold into place by wearing fundoshi 褌 loincloth (which would also help prevent leaking on inner tights).

Asakusagami quality was low (it was also used as toilet paper) so paper pads had to be changed often, meaning you had to fold quite a lot of them to go through your period!

Shungirl folded the pad above following instructions found in the book 実娯教絵抄, which provided several other "models":

__________ 詰め紙 paper tampons

Another method for dealing with periods were tampon-like paper bundles which were inserted into the vagina, the 詰め紙 (tsumeshi? I am not sure of the reading).

This method may have first appeared in red-light districts (?). Beside its use for periods, prostitutes also used those tampons as method of contraception (OP has an interesting article on this subject).

By the end of Edo period and into Meiji, paper tampons were widely used even by women who were not prostitutes - despite voices branding this method as unsanitary.

__________ About girls' coming of age rites

Menarche (first period) was an important milestone for girls, and was celebrated as such via specific rites (shochō o iwau 初潮を祝). Those differed a lot from places to places, and also depended on social status.

Celebrations would concern close family, but often spread to wider community who could received for example a festive meal (sekihan 赤飯) for the occasion (some Edo era senryû poems stress how mortifying this publicity could be!).

Interestingly, some traditions were also pretty sweet: in some places, mothers would sew 3 stiches into their daughter's underskirt (koshimaki 腰巻き) as a good luck charm, hoping their periods would last only 3 days <3

Those rites were part of coming of age traditions (seijoshiki 成女式) which marked the start of a young woman adulthood. Another example is the blackening of teeth (ohaguro お歯黒) which usually started around 16-17 years old.

Celebrating menarche publicly was a way of advertising that the girl was no longer a child and would "soon" be a bride. Yet, if menarche often took place around 13-14 years old, in reality it was somehow unusual to have girls married so soon!

Before marriage, especially in non-noble/samurai families, young women often started their sexual life via flings or yobai 夜這い ("night crawling" ie pseudo-secret nighttime encounters) before any wedding actually took place.

[al0m]

this was supposed to be something else entirely but I couldn't get this stupid joke out of my head vensvdndb

*magma doodle blasts you*

[habibisagi]

got my period today so my oliver posting might get worse 🩷

[autisticenbydonnie]

[bunnelbaby]

There are many reasons a regressor, dreamer, caregiver or flip may rely on diapers, such as:

✨ Incontinence, or the inability to control one’s bladder or rectum

✨ Menstrual cycles, as diapers are much more comfortable/less dysphoric compared to using pads or tampons

✨ Impaired mobility, which effects one’s fine motor and gross motor skills

✨ During recovery following a surgery, as not to put too much strain on their bodies

✨ Various medical conditions and disabilities where wearing them might be much more convenient

✨ Stress or anxiety

✨ Having a tendency of wetting the bed

✨ Nightmares

✨ Purely for comfort reasons, as they can provide a sense of security for the wearer

✨ To help one slip into their headspace or prevent any accidents when regressing, as they may have bathroom troubles in their regressed state

✨ Regardless of the reason, there’s no shame or harm in wearing diapers so long as you are comfortable above all else.

[lowcallyfruity]

Hello

[ruiniel]

Please ignore the previous ask! Forgot to add the details, sorry about that!

Menstruation kink with Jealous! Possessive!Alucard and a female reader, with a healthy dose of blood drinking if you know what I mean 👀

Welcome and I mentioned on another day that I was feeling emotional, so this turned out a hurt/comfort piece rather... wanted to explore something here. And even with all the Alucard-centered smut written so far, sometimes I find that self-restraint is hotter. 🖤

Scent

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x fem!reader

Rating: M

Count: 2k

Tags & Warnings: Alucard POV, Pining, Anxious possessive Alucard, blood kink, period kink, period pain, cramps, hurt/comfort, fluff, light smut, grinding/non-penetrative stimulation, implied period sex

A single drop splashes the window, followed by another, and another. 

He raises his gaze from the manuscript in his lap, lip curling involuntarily as rain pelts the castle walls. Head falling back against the old cushioned armchair, he stares emptily ahead.

A gray, rainy, cold day rusty November brought. The fireplace has gone out. He has no need for warmth—usually tends it only for you, and you are not here.

Where you should be, the darker thought riles; he forces it down. The tendency to own, to curl around his own, is instinctual, but he refuses to give it power. 

Still, this feels wrong. As much as Adrian tried, he failed to quench the desperation and fearful thoughts taking hold: thoughts of returning to before, when no other steps, no other heart thrummed within these walls. The connection between you still confuses him, yet frantic with the freshness of a new bond. And the delicate nature of its novelty often creates an impression of fragility, as if it needs to be handled with utmost care. He tries.

But, the fact is, you’d been avoiding him for the past few days. Adrian sensed a change, and could not pinpoint why, but you’d been more reclusive, skipped sharing the meals you usually cooked and ate together, and the night prior you had an actual argument. Now that hadn’t happened since the early days of your struggle to know one another. Such a trifle, over a meaningless, petty thing, and still he feels like a lowly cur, wishing he could undo it all.

You’d retreated, and he’s not seen a wisp of you since. He’d beg you on his knees to forgive him if only you would see and speak to him. The more base part of him misses you like a man does sweet water on an open ocean. So many questions, and they all lead to the same wretched fears: what if you realized you actually don’t care for him as you thought? What if you wanted to leave? What if you’d met someone else in the nearby town, someone whose spirit is less scarred, less of a struggle, less… work? 

Adrian snaps the manuscript shut in his lap, leaning forward, sighing into his palms. 

He’s better than this. Grinding his teeth here thinking of the worst probable outcome, when he should… If you truly want your solitude, he will respect that—but he needs to hear it from your own mouth.

Attempting to keep a clear mind when wading through the corridors is a chore, and dejection weighing on his steps the closer he is to the door of your chambers. As he reaches to knock, Adrian takes a deep breath. If only to know for certain. That is all.

One, two, three. 

There’s no reaction from within, though he knows you’re there. He can hear the blood surging through your veins, ordained by your pumping heart. Not asleep, either, as far as he can tell. 

Adrian presses his forehead against the wood, a palm gliding down the carved surface. Such sweet music, luxury to the senses. For moments, he merely listens, then gathers his courage. “It’s me. May we speak?” Time warps achingly slow with the silence. “... please?”

“I’m not well today.” Your voice, beyond the door, slow and drowsy. 

The worry that grips him drowns the relief of an answer. Adrian swallows. “How so? Can I help?”

“No.”

“... can I see you?” He tries, waiting and hoping.

Silence again. He frowns, righting himself, preparing for a reluctant retreat. 

“Come in.”

He need not be told twice, slowly pushing the heavy door open and closing it behind him.

He’s been here before, or rather you’ve been here together. Near a large window is a bed and on it you lie, your back turned to the door. He notices you’re huddled in heavy blankets, and looking to the opposite corner, sees the fireplace here is out as well, ashy and dark. 

He calls your name, which yields no movement from your end. Adrian nears, and whatever words he had die in his throat when he perceives the familiar, sweet scent of blood. Yours. “Are you hurt?” In two leaps he’s rounded the bed, wanting to see your face.

“No.”

You’re staring blankly ahead, and Adrian cannot determine much, but you appear unwell, like someone exhausted after a sleepless night. “Please, tell me, I can… I can sense it,” he kneels by the bed, one hand reaching to feel your temperature—higher than usual, but not concerning. And the scent…

You finally look at him with reddened eyes before closing them and sighing. “Adrian… I’ll be fine. I merely need a few days.”

“A few?...” he finds your hand—cold as ice. 

Unwell, apparently weak, the scent of blood and—

Ah.

“Oh, my poor dear,” he murmurs, understanding, remembering.

You groan softly. Adrian says nothing else but rises and heads over to the fireplace. He sets to light a flame, then feeds it, and repeats until heat and a healthy glow emit from that corner of the room, dancing along the green sheets of your bed. No matter he doesn’t feel the chill—with the way you were wrapped and curled, you most likely do. It also provides him with an engaging activity, diverting his attention from the intoxicating aroma of your moon days, a sensation he never anticipated, let alone found thrilling and… enticing?

Why now? You’d been living here for a while, and this never happened. Was it because you’ve shared yourself with him? He doesn’t know nearly enough about his own kind, apparently. 

Adrian leaves the room, wracking his memory on the way. He returns holding a tray with hot peppermint tea, a jug of water, and a bowl of harvested forest nuts. When he looks over to your bed, he sees you’d discarded the heavy blankets and are now sprawled there in your dark nightgown, your feet bare. It seems the chamber’s warmed now. 

He places the tray on the nightstand by your side as you follow his movements. 

“Adrian, you didn’t have to…”

“Shush,” he smiles, “Now, come, this’ll help,” he kneels by the bed, reaches for the teapot and fills a cup even as you drag yourself into a seated position facing him.

You take the warm drink from his hand, sip of the tea, sigh in relief. 

“Forgive me? For the other night,” he says, watching the face he loves, glad he’s doing something for you.

You reach and stroke his hair and Adrian watches you, eyes heavy lidded as your scent fills him again, emanating through your hand like a spell. His lips part in a soundless sigh. 

“I’m sorry too, I was… not at my best.”

“I understand, I do.” His eyes close as your fingers drift along his temple, his cheek, his jaw. “Do you wish me to leave?” 

“Of course not.” You look away. “I’m just... not very good company at the moment, as you can see.”

At that, he nuzzles into your hand, placing his own on your thighs as he rests with his head in your lap. He feels the caress of your fingers, and a deep yearning. He’s always been drawn to you, but now… “Believe me when I say I don’t care, as long as you’re here.” His heart is quickening, and he tries to control his breathing, palms rubbing your sides. Lust languorously weaves into emotions and devotion; thoughts of grasping those naked thighs while ramming into you intrude with vicious clarity, but he stays there, focusing on his breath, on you.

A whimper. “A-Adrian… your claws…”

His eyes snap open, and with conscious effort he retracts the talons he didn’t notice had grown. Adrian raises his head, slowly rises to his feet as you lie back down on the bed.

“Will you hold me?” you ask.

He could die here and now, gutted by the question and the look you’re giving him. He rounds the bed, removes his boots, and crawls over to your side, bringing you close enough that your back is pressed to his chest, his arm secured around your waist. “Are you in pain?”

“Ugh…” you nod, then take his larger hand and bring it to your lower abdomen. 

Without thinking, he presses into the softness of your flesh, while curling around your body until you’re flush against him.

“That feels good, you’re warm…” 

He runs slow, circular motions around your belly, trying to soothe the cramping ache of your body. “There, there,” a kiss to your ear, “It will pass,” a kiss to your neck. 

His hand glides to your thigh, legs tangling with yours. If only he could melt into you—yes, that’s what it feels like. There’s nothing closer to describe it. And what a selfish fool he’d been, thinking of his own fear and misery, while here you were. More kisses, short, more like soft pecks on the skin of your neck, your shoulder.

Your hand glides over his own as he runs it over your abdomen again, your lower body arching into his.

A soft groan escapes him. His chest is heaving when you turn, offering your mouth—soft lips, tasting of peppermint. He kisses them. Eyes fluttering closed, Adrian sucks on your flesh with quiet abandon, wanting you and wanting you and wanting you.

“Mmh—” you sever the kiss, staring at him with half a smile on your face. Your hips are slotted against his, and you surely feel the hardness of him against your softness. “You… enjoy this?” you ask.

For a moment, he feels shamed: he’d failed to control his own body, let himself be swept by need, and you’re hurting, so this is the last you might want. “I… yes,” he admits. “It does things to me. You, like this… but what about you?”

You stare at him, smile, and kiss him again, to his surprise. “I need you close.”

The warmth of the fire blazes in the room, hot enough that he can bare your shoulder and more, not breaking your gaze as he cups a tender breast in his hand. You partly turn towards him when Adrian leans to take the hard nub between his lips, sucking with relish, hand moving down to tenderly massage warmth into your abdomen, hips grinding slowly against yours through the thin night shift. Your soft moans spur him on, and soon your skin glistens from the heat and the added attention he gives your body.

He imagines it’s your hot cunt he’s feeling when he thrusts against your clothed form, become harder and tenser by the moment, until something gradually coils in him and the steady movement, the sweetness of your taste as he licks into your mouth and the scent, god the scent…

It’s not enough, it’s too much, it’s—he moans hotly into your skin, lips pressed to your shoulder when the flare of pleasure bursts within, swaying his vision; holds on to your hip, hugs you closer as he deliriously cums in his trousers.

“... fuck.”

All he’s able to say. He would eat into you and hide into you and this is not the outcome he expected, but then he’s weak and needy, and doesn’t deserve you. 

But you’re smiling, lips plush from his kisses. “That much, really?”

A nod, his face buried into your neck. “Everything about you is… divine.”

You fall into silence as Adrian kisses your cheek, then reluctantly disentangles himself from you to leave the chamber. He returns after a short while to feed the fireplace before he joins you again, taking you in his arms. The flames crack and layer a golden sheet over you both.

“You know…”

“Yes?” He’s still drunk on you, high on the primordial state of afterglow and the intimacy of your nearness, the visceral need to keep you safe and protected, especially now.

“I’ve heard of another way to help ease some of the discomfort,” you say and sit up in bed, gazing down at him. 

“Oh?” 

In your eyes dwells a spark, and suddenly Adrian feels your want, feels it beating in your womb. Slowly you straddle him as he lies prone on the bed, gathering the nightgown around your bare legs, his hands already on your hips. 

“I have need of you also, Adrian… if you want to!” you add swiftly.

A long, heavy breath escapes him. “God… yes,” Adrian leads you down to him, kisses you deeply, licking at the softness of your tongue. He’s slow to turn until you’re the one on your back with your legs crossed around his hips. He grins, already hard again from the mere thought of it, resting his forehead against yours. “Let’s… help you… feel better.”