#cw: ob gyn

[threadtalks]

Lately I've been having such bad gender dysphoria and it's uncomfortable to talk about because outside of a few friends I feel like no one will understand and I have the fear of being attacked for it. There's a lot of necessary context or else it could easily be twisted and people in the internet fucking scare me these days.

I think I just realized that outside of that reason it might also be because something is wrong with me and I've been having pelvic pain all fucking year and honestly feel like I'm stuck in my period, except without the bleeding because I don't get periods. Several years ago I started on birth control to stop my periods for a handful of reasons but one being the gender dysphoria and getting violent thoughts between that and the hormones.

#{and i'm talking to myself} #cw periods #it's really difficult living with the first reason though #because it is one part super person and one part containing a controversial opinion #i vaguely talked about it on my main blog because it's forced me to come out to my mom which i never wanted to do #but i just. everything feels so fucking bad right now. #i have bad enough body image issues without me focusing on how i no longer look very androgynous #everything is so bad that i'm going to see and ob/gyn on Monday #and then having such dysphoria right now is making me even angrier over the first reason 🙃 #*personal #dammit #could i journal about this stuff? totally and i probably should but idk somehow the idea of 'oh other queer people might see this #and they'll understand these feelings' #because no one i know IRL REALLY gets it 🥲

[izvmimi]

cw: this is so goofy. selfship-coded. izuku has a subtle breeding kink (i wrote this what's new). pregnancy mention. condom use. suggestive, minors dni.

you sit warily on the toilet seat, your fiancé right outside the door, and your foot tap tap taps as you wait for the little piece of plastic in your hand to decide your future.

ironically, you don't have the energy for trepidation anymore because you feel like by now you're at this literally every couple of days.

but baby it doesn't feel good?

but don't you want me to feel all of me?

i promise i'll pull out better this time.

just the tip is fine, right?

izuku's outside the bathroom door, giving you privacy as though he wasn't nose deep between your legs just last night, slobbering all over you like a starving puppy presented with a wet meal. for a moment it occurs to you that if you really are pregnant, even if you can clearly handle it financially and emotionally, you'll shove that stick so far up his ass that-

your timer goes off and it's negative.

you sigh.

izuku bursts in at the sound of your voice, immediately uttering a supportive "is everything okay baby?" the shine to his emerald eyes makes you wonder if he actually, deep down, does want you pregnant.

"perfect. no baby."

he grins and kisses your forehead as you adjust your panties up and stand to wash your hands. squishing your cheeks as he has trouble getting his hands off of you, he promises that he'll actually invest in some condoms.

you don't believe him, but you consider making that appointment to your ob-gyn to get an intrauterine device you've been thinking about sooner rather than later.

---

another night comes and he's looked at you like that and he continues to be built like that and you have no choice but to let him do whatever he wants with you, even if it is to drag you not really kicking and not really screaming from your work, going from holding you around your midsection to lifting you up effortlessly so that your crotch is pressed against his face. he sniffs you like an entire dog and you're both terribly embarrassed and terribly aroused by his sheer want for you. izuku is already pressing kisses to your mound through your yoga pants as he carries you to the bed.

"izuku, i still have shit to do!" you argue, but you're holding on tight to his head to keep your balance, as if he would ever let you fall.

"you've worked hard enough," he says, muffled by your legs around his face. "i'm asking politely. may i please have some pussy?"

the fact that he's asking this, just as you land on the bed with a practical bounce is almost offensive. you sit up.

"are you even asking?"

he leans in, grinning as he gets on all fours to descend upon you.

"i mean yeah, of course," he replies, knowing full well that you won't say no as he pulls off his shirt. you shake your head, but your shirt goes over your head as well. he catches your lips in a kiss first, and you sink into the bed under his weight as he practically smothers you in kisses. wet, sloppy, silly, you laugh against each other, groping each other with your hands, and then it occurs to you both at the same time.

condoms.

you pull away, his teeth still grazing at your lower lip.

"izuku, do you have any?"

he blinks for a moment, sitting back on his heels. then his eyes widen.

"yes!"

izuku sounds a little too excited just for condoms, and your eyes narrow, but he practically leaps off the bed and is burrowing through his workbag for something, and you squint, expecting a box.

what he comes up with dries you up so fast you'll need iv fluids.

his grin is wide as he presents to you, proudly, a string of pristine looking condoms, all printed with all might's million watt smile right on the packaging.

"see, i didn't forget!"

a moment of silence passes as you beg the heavens above that your adonis of a partner is not fucking serious about fucking you sideways with his mentor's brand of contraceptive rubbers.

"izuku."

"what?"

"..."

you walk out of the room, immediately, so irate you can't speak.

"WHAT?!" he asks, following you out immediately. "come on!"

there's no way you are coming or cumming anywhere in the next hour. not like this.

you find your seat back at your desk and crack open your hardback textbook as hard as you can, doing your best to ignore the whine his voice has taken. he can actually die of blue balls for all you care.

"come on, it's not that bad!"

you snap your head at him and give him a look, and he immediately recants.

"okay, i'll go out right now and get normal condoms, i promise."

you lick the tip of your index finger and turn the page of your book.

"please, my dick is literally so hard right now, don't you care if i die?"

"perish. let me see," you reply, without turning your head.

"wow!" you can't' help but stifle a laugh at his disbelief. you hear him shift upwards and turn, not even realizing he had been kneeling.

as he stands, you do get a look at his... impressive member. maybe he could die like this, the way that thing is rock hard and waiting desperately for you.

you blink, look at your book, then look back at him. he's looking at you with the puppy dog eyes, and he still looks the way he does and he's still built the way he is, and...

...

moments later, you're folded into a jackknife because your pro hero fiancé somehow always gets his way, but at least, mercifully, his mentor's condom isn't wrapped all over what's pumping in and out of you.

right before your eyes roll back in your head, you can still see all might's smile, and maybe you should have just stuck with the damn pregnancy tests after all.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku smut #cw pregnancy #cw breeding #mimi's notes #mimidoriya #daydreams: bnha

[merakiui]

the birds and the bees.

yandere!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, slight dub-con, implied stalking, age gap (riddle is 19 and reader is 29) note - you're hired to teach riddle about the birds and the bees. you need the money. he needs to get laid.

The Rosehearts’s Residence looks about how you expected it to after driving past houses of similar size and grandeur. Unlike you, they’re definitely not strapped for cash. It’s an impressive structure with its elegant wrought iron gates and expertly trimmed hedges. You’re immediately overcome with bitter jealousy when you step through the entrance, passing rose bushes in full bloom. If only your apartment could look and feel as nice as this place. You almost wonder if you should keep Mrs. Rosehearts’s contact in case she ever needs a gardener or a window washer…

But then that risks your cover, and the last thing you want is to get tangled up in trouble with the upper middle class.

Gathering your courage, you smooth invisible wrinkles in your pencil skirt, steady your balance in your Mary Janes—both at socially acceptable lengths and heights—and bring your fist down against the door. Seconds after the third knock, it opens to reveal a woman who looks as prim and proper as the landscape of her home. She takes a long moment, drinking in your formal features, and then smiles approvingly.

“Ah, (Name), you’re early.”

You soften your face into something polite and demure. “Better early than late.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You meander into the foyer and are instantly reminded of those exquisite house tours on MagiTube. There’s a fine layer of modest Victorian wealth to the decor. Flowery wallpaper, a lofty ceiling, an aureate chandelier, a vase filled with fresh tulips of all colors… Oh, how you wish you could live here!

“Your home is beautiful,” you comment as you straighten your bow headband.

“Why, thank you.” Her eyes light up once more. “I’ve always admired this neighborhood. Everything is so well-kept. Speaking of which, where did you say you’re from?”

“Oh, I’m actually getting ready to move back to school at the end of the summer,” you explain, narrowly dodging her question. No way I’m telling her I live in a not-so-affluent neighborhood… She’ll totally kick me out. “I’m staying with my parents in the meantime and working a few jobs to support myself.”

“And what was it you’re studying again?”

You paste a hollow smile on, sensing her distrust. I already told you this when we met at the clinic. Do I really seem so suspicious?

“I’m studying to be an ob-gyn.”

“A wonderful profession,” she praises, nodding to herself. “Very wonderful indeed. And how old are you? I merely ask to confirm. There are so many miscreants nowadays. You can never be too sure.”

“I understand completely, Mrs. Rosehearts. I’m—” you almost falter, your real age on the tip of your tongue— “twenty-two. What about your son? You told me he’s also looking to get into the medical field?”

“Not looking. He will pursue medicine,” she corrects sternly. “Just like his mother.”

You swallow your disgust and try not to let it show so openly. Yikes… Talk about controlling.

Mrs. Rosehearts waves you onwards down the hall. “My Riddle will be leaving for his first year of college at the end of August. Though I’m certain he’s more than prepared, it never hurts to review.”

“Absolutely. So you’d like me to give him the talk?”

“Not just that. I’d like you to teach him well enough so that copulation and any other libidinous ideas are the last things on his mind. Stamp them out if you must. He’s to focus on his studies and make good decisions just as I raised him.”

Shouldn’t he already be familiar with this? Besides, he’s not a kid. Of course he’s going to think about sex. Most of us do when we’re horny.

But you can’t say that outright, so you settle for something vastly different.

“It’s important to stay on the right path and be responsible.”

Mrs. Rosehearts nods her agreement. Your stomach twists in discomfort.

On second thought, I don’t want to be upper middle class if these are the people I have to deal with. Is this guy going to have any chance to be social? To live his life? To make and learn from stupid mistakes? I bet he can’t wait to get out of here and go off to school.

“I apologize if this is rude in any way, but I just want to ensure I’ll be paid accordingly.”

“Of course. Good work must always be recognized and rewarded.” She stops at a door. “I cannot thank you enough for lending my Riddle your time. Teach him well.”

“I’ll do just that. You can count on it.”

Pleased with the level of maturity you’ve displayed, she raps her knuckles against the door and calls out, “Riddle, the tutor’s here.”

“Very well, Mother. I’ve just finished today’s readings, so you can send them in,” comes a muffled reply.

Today’s readings? you think, perplexed. Your gaze slides from the door to Mrs. Rosehearts. Does she have this guy doing summer school? That must suck! What a shitty way to spend your summer, cooped up inside filling out workbooks and stuff.

“I’ll be out running errands in the meantime. I trust you’ll be all right by yourself?”

“Perfectly all right,” you assure her, to which she hums and strides past you. You catch her perfume as she departs, and it reminds you of the types of scents worn by saggy, old ladies who have nothing better to do than sit around and complain about the state of the world and the way their children turned out.

In other words, a scent you associate with misery.

You wait until she’s out of sight before opening the door and stepping inside the study. There’s a mahogany desk in the center, and thick textbooks are piled high on either side. Beyond that, beside a big bay window with cream-colored curtains drawn to let in the sun, two large bookcases are packed with an array of tomes. At the front of the room, a blackboard has been built into a wooden frame. Chalk lines the ledge, situated within reach of an eraser. And sitting at the desk, his eyes glued to an open book, is a young man. A pair of round frames sit on the bridge of his nose, slipping ever so slightly down the slope of it when he peers at the page. He pushes them up when he finally lifts his head to greet you.

“Hey.” You wave awkwardly, easing the door shut.

He seems taken aback by your appearance. “Oh, yes. Right. Hello…”

Silence soon fills the space. You wonder if you should just save yourself this nonsensical waste of time and retreat.

“Sooo.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking on your heels. “Your mother’s probably told you why I’m here.”

“I’m aware.” He shuts his book and stands from his seat. “My name is Riddle Rosehearts. A pleasure to meet you.”

You blink at his outstretched arm. “(Name). Likewise.” You grab his hand and shake firmly. 

So stiff…

“So where’re we starting? The basics? You want the whole ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ version or—”

Riddle scoffs and yanks his arm back. “I’m not a fool. I’ll have you know I’m well aware of sexual reproduction and what it entails.”

“You can call it sex. No one’s forcing you to be all biological,” you tease. His body goes rigid, and his face reddens in what you assume is flustered annoyance. “Anyways, since you’re not as brainless as Mother Dearest wants me to assume, I’ll just get into it.”

Riddle stares at you, his arms folding over his chest. He looks like he wants to argue, but instead he huffs and lowers into his chair.

Wordlessly, you undo the buttons on your blazer and shrug out of it. Your blouse goes next, untucked from your skirt and shucked. Riddle’s eyes are so wide they nearly pop out of his skull when he spies the white, lacy false collar that just barely covers your breasts. You’re about to step out of your pencil skirt next when Riddle clears his throat.

“W-What’re you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No?”

“I’m teaching you the birds and the bees.”

“N-Not in that outfit! S-Surely not…” He averts his eyes, crimson crawling up to his ears. “You’re practically nude!”

“That’s the point of lingerie, silly.” Your skirt pools around your ankles to reveal the rest of your frilly ensemble. A black-and-white cupless bra and crotchless panties set, both with plenty of ruffles, held together with a pair of garters. Still wearing matching stockings and your precious Mary Janes, you bend down to gather your discarded clothes. They’re set aside on a nearby chair. “You can look.”

“A-Absolutely not!” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y-You… You’re not decent. It’s rude to stare.”

“Come on. You got past anatomy diagrams just fine.”

Riddle opens and closes his mouth, speechless like a beached fish. Eventually, he manages to gather his coherency. “You’re a tutor, aren’t you? Where’s your dignity?”

“Nonexistent. I lied.” His head snaps over to view you, and he seems so scandalized by your admission that it’s almost comedic. “No way I’m studying to be an ob-gyn. I’m not even in school.”

“What?! But you—”

“It’s fine. I looked the part, didn’t I?” you joke, waving your hand about dismissively. “C’mon, mama’s boy. You’re going off to college. It’s nothing like those stuffy anatomy courses.”

Riddle tries and fails to look at anywhere that isn’t you, his eyes lingering on your chest to the space between your legs to the thigh garter and then to the ceiling. He’s so red you think he might explode.

“You’ve been with a girl before, yeah?”

With lips pursed in a tight line, he shakes his head.

“Sounds about right.”

“And you’re so experienced?”

You flash him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, mama’s boy.”

“I’m not a mama’s boy!”

“No? So you just let your mother treat you like a little baby at your grown age? You let her pick out sex tutors for you?”

“I—” He stops himself from speaking to mull over your questions. “If it’s what she deems necessary…”

“Because our biggest fear is sexually awkward you knocking up some girl at school, right?”

“I… I would never! Safe sex is—”

“Very important when you’re not trying to conceive. Good boy. See? You know your stuff.”

Riddle’s eyes narrow into vicious slits. You brush his scorching vitriol off and turn towards the board. Procuring a piece of chalk, you scrawl words on it: Birds and Bees 101. Wholly unamused, Riddle folds his arms across his chest.

“Your mother told me you’re gonna study medicine, so you’re probably familiar with everything already. And I’m sure you know all about the baby-making process on a biological level.” You whirl to face him, your tits bouncing with the peppy motion. Riddle swallows thickly. “But just to make sure… Let’s review.”

“R-Review? You don’t mean—”

“What’s this?” Your hands close around your tits. Riddle’s enchanted with the way you squeeze them—the way they depress under your fingers.

“Um… Ahem. Well… T-The breasts. They’re a type of glandular organ located on a woman’s chest, and they’re made up of lots of tissue and fat. There’s the mammary gland—that’s what produces milk. Oh, and then there are the areolas right around the nipples. Those are—”

“You can call them what they are.”

Riddle blinks, shaken from his studious spiel. “W-What?”

“You know the word, mama’s boy.”

He flusters. “Yes, I’m aware. But…”

“No harm in saying it.” You run your fingers over your nipples and giggle sweetly like a schoolgirl. “Go on…”

He inhales a deep breath. “They’re tits,” he mumbles, desultory. “Y-Your tits.”

You clap, beaming brightly. “Well done! Moving swiftly on…” You run your hands down the expanse of your stomach, stopping just beneath your navel. “What’s here?”

“Your womb. O-Otherwise known as the uterus. It’s where a baby grows over the course of nine months.”

“Mhm. Good job.”

He pushes his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat. “There’s more to your reproductive system than the uterus. Lots of parts. Important parts.”

“Right. But I don’t need to quiz you on it. You obviously know your stuff.”

Again, your fingers inch lower until they’re prodding at your folds. Riddle’s breath audibly hitches.

“And this?”

“Your vagina. It’s where—”

“What’s the other word?”

Riddle avoids your stare. “It sounds so vulgar…”

“So what?”

“S-So there ought to be a term that’s more…flattering.”

“Like what?” You approach him and, with the grace of a swan, lift your leg onto the desk to give him a better view of yourself. Shamelessly, you dip your fingers inside to spread yourself. “A guy called it the honeypot once. That pretty enough for you?”

Riddle squeaks and flinches back in his chair, his face now even redder than it was before. “T-That’s fine…”

“Really? I’d have thought the implication in that one is much dirtier than calling it a pussy.”

It takes him a moment to connect the dots, but once he does he gasps. “Ah. Then…”

You press inwards with your fingers, exaggerating a pornographic sigh. “Yeah?”

“Can I… M-May I call it your flower?”

“Sure.” His shoulders slacken with a flicker of relief. Your next words shatter that and his pride in one fell swoop. “That one’s not as special as you think, mama’s boy. I’ve heard it all—every type of flower you can think of.”

“Even a rose?”

“Especially a rose.” His lips twist into a disappointed moue. You chuckle and add, “You can call it a rose if you want. I don’t mind.”

Riddle meets your eyes then, searching them for the joke. When one doesn’t present itself, he relaxes. “All right. It’s a very pretty rose. Soft…”

“Aww. Thanks for saying so. It’s softer inside, y’know. See?” Spreading yourself wider, you angle your hips to bless him with the full view. “My fingers slide right in. Wanna guess why?”

“B-Because the vagina naturally—” He stops himself, his brows knitting together in contemplation. When he speaks next, it’s with a determined sort of conviction. “When you’re aroused, your rose produces a natural lubricant during sexual excitement.”

“Mhm. We call that ‘feeling good and getting wet,’ Dr. Rosehearts.”

“Yes. Y-Yes, I know that.” He eyes your pussy, a ravenous glimmer in his intelligent blue-greys. “And the wetness—it’s supposed to make it feel better. To make insertion easier, I mean.”

“Right again.” You ease your fingers out but not before thrusting them deeper just so he can hear the sinful sounds. They shimmer with your essence, enticing in a forbidden way. “What about the other parts? How about this spot here?” You brush against the hood of your clit, circling it slowly.

Riddle watches, hopelessly spellbound. “The clitoris.”

“I’m impressed. Most guys don’t know about it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But it’s your most sensitive erogenous zone! Just how uninformed does one have to be to neglect such a crucial part to your sexual anatomy?”

“Woefully uninformed, I’m afraid,” you mutter with a pout. Your fingertips drag your hood up to reveal that pretty, perky nub. “I think it’s dumb your mother wants me to talk you out of sex. You’re going to college. You’re an adult. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“I…” Riddle frowns at that last line. “I have no interest in it. Besides, it’ll only hinder my studies. If I really need it, I’ll just masturbate. That’s healthy every now and then, and it doesn’t break any rules.”

“Really? No interest at all?” You shoot him a knowing look and run your tongue along your bottom lip. “Because your dick’s telling a different story.”

Riddle sputters, embarrassed, and squeezes his thighs together. His hands fly to cover his lap. “That’s because you’re—” He gazes at the floor. “Because you’re so pretty…”

Temporarily thrown off course, you gape at him. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Gathering the remnants of your mask, you piece it together and laugh. “Not the first time I’ve heard someone describe it like that.”

“Not just your pussy.” Your gaze snaps to his. He smiles, impish. “I’m sure you know what I mean, Teacher.”

You exhale a short laugh. “Someone’s suddenly confident.”

Riddle rises from his seat. His fingers close around your wrist, gently pulling it away from your clit. He moves around the desk to stand in front of you and then, before you can comprehend his intentions, he’s pushing you down onto the desk. You yelp at the sudden change in position, your eyes blown wide when he presses his clothed hard-on against your bare pussy.

“You’re doing a poor job at dissuading me from wanting sex.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“Not in that outfit.” He grabs at the meat of your thighs and parts them. “If Mother knew you lied to her…”

You shake your head at him. “Please don’t tell her. I… I’m being serious. I need this money.”

“Desperately?”

Your lip curls into the beginning of a sneer. You hate feeling powerless more than anything, but the fiery glaze in his eyes is just as troubling. “I’m not going to beg.”

“I haven’t asked for that yet.”

You roll your eyes. “Not funny. I agreed to teach you about sex. We’re not actually doing it.”

“A shame.”

“You’ll find a nice girl at school. Don’t lose hope, mama’s boy. Lots of girls like the smart types who’ll give ’em a lecture on biology and stuff.”

“I think you misunderstand. I don’t want other girls.”

“Okay?”

“My mother’s paying for a tutor and I desire you, so unless you want to leave here as a lying cheat…” He hums, seeming awfully haughty to hold the only thing that tethers you to him above your head. “You need the money, right?”

“Yes. Sure, of course I do. But—” You shift on the desk, silently horrified when he rocks against you. “We can’t. Your mother—”

“Weren’t you the one saying I should live my life? That I have the freedom to do as I please?”

“That doesn’t mean—come on; listen to yourself. You can’t honestly think I’d fuck you.”

“No? And yet you came wearing this outfit, parading around the study with your pussy and tits out.” He glances past you at the window. “And you didn’t even bother to close the curtains… How brazen.”

Your attempt to jerk away from him is made in vain. He pins you down onto the desk, one hand squeezing your breast, while the other works to fish himself from his trousers. Now hard and leaking, his cock rests against your stomach. It’s not a terrible size. If anything, it’s perfect. Just right for your tastes.

“W-Wait! It’s not safe. You can’t—” You inhale sharply, bucking up towards his hand when he presses his thumb against your clit. Biting your lip, you fix him with a glower. “If you pay me… If you promise not to tell your mother—”

Riddle leans in close. “No one needs to know. No one but us.”

Your eyes flit about the room. With a withering sigh, you submit to his touch. “You’d better pull out in time.”

Riddle rolls his hips once and his cock drags along your folds. You hiss through your teeth at this new friction, a sinful delight more dizzying than any type of alcohol consumed in excess. “Do you want to be a mother?”

“What I want has nothing to do with you. I’m just—ooh—t-trying to survive. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, so don’t poke fun.”

Riddle hums, kneading your breast and rubbing you to the edge all at once. It’s so very obviously his first time, his zealous nature trumping any sort of experienced technique. It still does the trick, though, sending little bolts of pleasure up your spine.

“My mother wouldn’t just choose anyone. Her standards are very high.” His eyes flick to your face, drinking in your expression as it shifts with restrained bliss. “Somehow you’ve earned her approval.”

“Lying’ll do that.”

“Maybe.” His fingers replicate the motions you did earlier, though with a singular objective in mind. He’s so focused on succeeding in this endeavor that it makes him look so stiff. Under any other circumstances, you’d find it cute. “Mother always knows what’s best for me. Obviously you’ve met her criteria if she’s hired you.”

“Spoken like a true mama’s boy.” Seeing as this is now your unavoidable fate, you reach up to touch his shoulders. He jolts, his initial glare softening. You tamp down another giggle and massage up and along his arms. “Relax a little. Don’t rush so much.”

Or do. Let’s get this over with before your mother catches us.

Riddle traces two fingers along your labia. He’s quiet as he takes all of you in, and when he sinks three fingers into your gooey heat his breath catches in his throat. “Are you… D-Do you feel good?”

You reach for his unoccupied hand and guide it to your clit. Riddle understands the suggestion well enough, for he massages you slowly. Sucking in another breath, you nod at him.

“Not bad. You’re getting there.”

His neglected cock throbs at the praise, and so you wrap your fingers around it to give it the same amount of attention he’s currently giving you. Riddle grits his teeth at the contact.

“You can move your fingers. Don’t just focus on my clit.”

“Ah. Right. Of course,” he babbles dumbly, so swept up in everything that you are, so very eager to please.

You’re like a work of art pinned to his desk, a delicacy more forbidden than anything from the bakery. Sugary-sweet, adorned in skimpy ruche, you’re a temptation laid bare. Delicately, as if you might shatter, he curls his fingers to press up against your insides. Riddle watches you arch up towards him, your hand working his cock maddeningly slow and steady. It feels good—better than anything he could have ever imagined.

His eyes trail from your lips to your tits to your pussy stretched around his fingers. “Do you have any plans for this summer?”

The sudden question catches you off guard. You were expecting something related to sex, not whatever this new shred of curiosity is. Still, that doesn’t stop you from dragging him closer to the edge of ecstasy with every tug of your fist.

“Why?”

“I… I’d like to get to know you.”

“Me?”

“Of course. You’re more than a body to me.”

“How charming. I just—” You frown, unable to follow where he’s going with this. “Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Even though he says it like it’s a fact, he looks shy. “I want to know you.”

“Uh… Yeah… Okay.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not that… It’s just hard to imagine you having any girl friends.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and grinds his thumb into your clit. You bite back a whine as his fingers pump in and out of you. “Is that space open or closed?”

“You know which one.”

“You could be the one to close it.”

You meet his eyes then. For a short minute, the two of you hold each other’s stare. And then, breaking free from his hypnotic hold, you squeeze his length gently. He shudders, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“And what about you? You excited for your first year?”

“Mm, yeah,” he murmurs, rutting into your hand. His fingers spread you open, scissoring gently.

“Just make sure to take time for yourself. Have fun. Live.”

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you were at school—how’d you manage?”

“I never went.” He opens his mouth to interject, but you beat him to it. “Couldn’t afford it.”

“Oh…”

“It’s fine! I’ve got plenty of experience in other things. I don’t need school for that.”

Riddle doesn’t believe your feigned optimism for a second. “If you could’ve gone, what would you have studied?”

You release his cock from your hold and reach up to pull his glasses from his face. Gingerly, minding the fragile frames, you set them aside. You lift your index to your lips, effortlessly coy. “It’s a secret.”

Before he can protest, you tap the hand at your cunt next. Riddle’s fingers, wet and shiny, slide out with a slick squelch. “I think you can do it.”

“What?”

“Go to school and study what you want. I believe in you.”

A wooden laugh tumbles from your lips. “Thanks for the encouragement, mama’s boy.”

“I have a name, you know.”

You smile easily. “You want me to call you something else? How does ‘good boy’ sound?”

Even though he tries not to let it show, his cock betrays his reticence with a small twitch. He’s an open book. Not wanting to give you the satisfaction, he lines himself up instead. Your fingers slip down to spread yourself for him.

“S-Slowly…” you whisper, stumbling over your breath as the head of his cock presses inside. Shallow at first before more inches fill you.

Riddle heaves a shaky gasp, his eyes wide with amazement. “I… I’m inside you…”

“How’s it feel?” “Warm. Soft. Snug. R-Really good.” He bows his head and digs his fingers into your hips. You think he has a dozen more adjectives on the tip of his tongue, each one just as fluffy as the last. “D-Do you feel good? It doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m fine.” You wind your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Your hands come to rest upon his shoulders once more. “Move your hips.”

Riddle does just that. His pace is awkward and inexperienced, every motion unsteady and jerky, as he searches for the right rhythm. He falls into it surprisingly fast, and it isn’t long until he’s smoothly rutting into you. You grab at his shirt, your breath coming in reedy huffs.

“Good. You—haa—good. You’re doing good.” Praise pours from your lips like a waterfall, plentiful and refreshing. It invigorates him, fills him with a confidence that wasn’t there before.

The soft slap of skin on skin fills the room. You keep your voice in check, lest you lose yourself and alert Mrs. Rosehearts. Riddle seems to be doing the same, even though it’s obvious he’s struggling much more than you are. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress his groans.

“You can touch me,” you whisper, petting his cheek. He blinks at you, his face aflame with a bright blush.

Nervously, he reaches for you and then pauses. Contemplation passes over his features. “What feels better? I want you to—no. I will make sure you cum. I’ve studied it, actually. I know how long it takes.”

“Look at you, doing your research like a diligent student. You want extra credit?”

Riddle chuckles and pinches your clit between two fingers. The rest of your teasing tapers off into a lewd squeal. “What was that about extra credit?”

“You’re awfully bold for your first time.”

“I’m not clueless.” His hips press inwards, plastering you to the desk, and his cock brushes that special spot within—the spot that has you seeing stars, your every nerve tingling with pleasure. You choke around a delighted gasp. Riddle, feeling victorious,  places his hand against your stomach, as if searching to feel his cock thrust up inside you. “Will I see you again after this?”

“If your mother wants me to come back and give you another pointless lecture on celibacy and safe sex, sure.”

“No, not that. Outside of this.”

“Don’t you have friends you’d rather hang out with?”

“I…do.”

“So spend time with them.”

Riddle doesn’t dignify that with a retort. With the way his eyes gloss over, you wonder just how many of these friends are within physical distance. The conversation stalls out into silence.

“You’ll make lots of friends at school. So many you’ll probably forget all about me.”

Riddle yanks your hips to meet his, driving himself deeper into your pussy.

“A-And you’ll find a nice girl to love if you’re looking for that kinda thing.”

“I am,” he confesses, breathless. “I want to get married and—mmh—start a family one day… I want to study law—become a lawyer… Mother thinks medicine suits me, but I can’t agree. Law is fascinating. It’s a perfect fit for me. Far better than medicine.”

You drag your thumb over your mouth, wetting it with your lipgloss, and then press it to his lips. The indirect kiss sends a tidal wave of arousal over him, darkening the tips of his ears in striking vermillion. You offer him a gentle smile while he recovers from that devastating flirt.

“I’ll make sure to hire you as my lawyer if I ever get into legal trouble.”

“You’d better not!” He laughs and shakes his head in amused disbelief. “But if you do, I’ll be there for you. Always.”

“Thanks, Riddle.”

Maybe I judged him too harshly. He’s not so bad.

In that stuffy study, just as the late afternoon gives way to red-orange streaked across a purple-pink sky, Riddle fucks you against that desk in all manner of rhythms. It’s when he finally picks up speed that you realize he’s nearing his end. You mirror his enjoyment, strung along by titillating touches and whispered words drenched in sweetness. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve reached rapture alongside him, your pussy now brimming with cum. There’s so much it leaks out of your slick hole when he draws away, only to burrow his cock deeper to stuff it back inside.

The room reeks of sweat and sex. You think, if not your disheveled appearance, the smell will definitely tell Mrs. Rosehearts all she needs to know.

“I love you,” Riddle murmurs, and you’re about to ask him what he means—maybe he’s caught up in the moment and doesn’t realize what he’s saying—but then he lifts your legs up to fold you into a mating press. Coherent thoughts are knocked out of your head when he spills over, filling you up for the nth time that day. You shiver beneath him, eyes rolled back into your skull and tongue lolling out. You feel so stupid, fucked submissive by some inexperienced, upper middle class mama’s boy. Which isn’t even an insult with real heat to it, but in your hazy mind it’s all you can think of to describe him.

He grinds against you in the aftermath, panting from the exhilaration and adrenaline. 

“We need to…open the window,” you mutter, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

Riddle admires your fucked-out expression in his sex-drunk daze. He slides out just as he feels himself going flaccid. Cum drips onto the desk below. Briefly, you struggle to recall whether or not you took your birth control today.

Something to consider later. Definitely not right now when you’re still clinging to the vestiges of your orgasm.

— — —

Mrs. Rosehearts knocks on the door, opening it to find Riddle sitting at his desk, jotting notes and occasionally pushing his glasses up. You’re standing at the blackboard, writing a list of the consequences of unplanned pregnancies. The room smells pleasantly of roses.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

You gaze at her and smile, wearing the clothes you arrived in. Nothing’s amiss. It’s perfect—thankfully. “Welcome back, Mrs. Rosehearts. We’re just about finished here.”

“Is that right? I assume all went well?”

“Very well. Your son’s a fast learner. Extremely talented.”

“I would expect nothing less.” She withdraws an envelope and hands it to you. “Thank you again for explaining it in realistic terms. Of course I doubt that my Riddle will act senselessly while he’s away, but as his mother I’m prone to worrying. Boys his age are so easily influenced.”

“O-Of course! That’s a very valid concern.” You force a chuckle.

If only she knew.

“Your pay is in that envelope. Should I ever require your assistance again, I’ll be sure to call.”

“Right… Thank you.” You hold it close to your chest. “I’m happy to help.”

You follow her out the door. She pauses to address Riddle. “Do continue reviewing your notes. We’ll convene for dinner in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Mrs. Rosehearts walks you to the gate. “I wish you luck in your studies. If I don’t see you again at the clinic, have a pleasant summer.”

“Thank you. You as well.” You smile, fidgeting slightly. A bead of sweat tracks a path down your leg from between cum-spattered thighs.

Finally! With this I can pay my rent and still have enough for a treat from the bakery.

It’s worth it, or so you continue to tell yourself.

— — —

From the window, Riddle watches you make the walk to your car. He lifts his phone to fit you in the camera and snaps a secret photo. He continues to watch you until you’ve driven off and turned the corner, disappearing from his sight.

A tiny smile tugs at his lips.

Within his phone, put under a password lock, a special photo album exists. It’s filled with pictures taken from your social media—all of them. Every. Single. One. He’s resourceful when he wants to be. He can play the parody of a tech genius when he sets his sights on something.

And you’re just perfect.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle x reader #yandere riddle #yandere riddle rosehearts x reader #n/sfw #tw: age gap #tw: dubcon #tw: pregnancy mention

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Seeing Double

Set in The Shape of Youniverse 

Summary: Your first ultrasound for Baby Number Two includes a surprise twist 

Pairing: Steven x afab!reader, Marc x afab!reader, and Jake x afab!reader. Reader is married to the system 

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: G (for once!!!!)

CW/TW: A dose of angst and anxiety, mentions of pregnancy and past trauma, heinous fudging of how medical technology works, plus lots of fluff and soft!moon boys 

A/N: HI HELLO ALL YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE SEE THE SHAPE OF YOUNIVERSE IS NOT OVER!!! 😅😅 This is the first of the asks that have been collecting dust in my inbox while I was filling celebration prompts and ~trying to live~ Cheers to the lovely nonnie who requested it! 

“Oh my days, that's wonderful!!”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Dr. Slater had been your OB/GYN for nearly ten years, and delivered Nyla, but this disparity between your and Steven’s reactions was the first time you’d ever rendered him speechless. “I, um…I’ll give you two a moment.”

You stared at the ultrasound machine’s screen in shock, while Steven gazed upon it in awe. The word kept ringing in your ears. Twins.

“Blimey, do you reckon they’re fraternal or identical? It’s a good thing we sprung for the larger place after all, innit…oh my goodness, just wait until we tell Nyla there are two babies in your tummy! Her little mind will be blown, right darling? Darling…”

You couldn’t imagine Nyla’s reaction to the news, because currently, it was your little mind that was blown. Twins. Two more mouths to feed, two more school tuitions, two more little bodies to push out of you. Simultaneously.

“You alright, darling?”

“We’re going to be outnumbered.”

“Nothing we can’t handle…hey,” Steven sat himself on the ledge of the examination bed and put his hand on your arm. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head back and forth, and when you spoke, your voice was thick with tears. “I don't think I can do this.”

Sobs promptly followed after your admission, and Steven gathered you into his arms right away.  “Hey, hey no…it’s going to be grand, okay? Awww sweetheart, seeing you like this is breaking my heart.”

“It’s just…it’s a lot to take in, and it’s not what we planned!! We have to double everything and it’s all going to be happening at once and what if–” you paused to heave and hyperventilate, pulling much-needed oxygen into your lungs, “ –what if I can’t handle it?”

“Shhhhhh, you’re going to be brilliant,” he assured you, then pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Besides this isn’t your first curveball now, is it? What with Nyla being a surprise, not to mention your ex-avatar husband having D.I.D and the like.”

“I’m juh…I’m just scared!” you wailed.

“It’s alright to be scared,” Steven didn’t hesitate in validating you. “But darling, you’re not going to be doing this alone.”

“I know, but I have to do the hard bit,” you pointed out plaintively, using Steven’s self-coined jaunty term for the burden of motherhood.

“That’s true, but even so, we’re all going to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible. You have us, and your parents – we wanted to ask them to come out earlier anyway pre-due date– then there’s Charlotte and Harry, Doctor Slater, we can even book Pippa again too so she'll start right away if you’re worried about latching. Everyone wants to help you, my love. ”

It was moments like this you remembered exactly why you married your husband. The sobs wracking your body prevented you from articulating your gratitude, so instead you burrowed into his chest, likely rubbing some of your makeup onto his shirt and definitely smearing ultrasound gel across his trousers.

“Esto es una bendición,” you heard Jake murmur, “We’ve both been through so much more, so much worse than this, nena. Today is a good day, and I won’t let you think any differently.”

“I’m processing, Jake.”

“Yo sé,” he acknowledged, “but I’m also not going to let you spiral, bien?”

“I don’t spiral.”

Jake snorted in disbelief. You pulled back to look him in the eye, a challenge. He met your questioning gaze with a single arched brow that told you he wasn't buying it.

“Well this is something that I’m allowed to spiral about,” you defended yourself, only to realize mid-argument, “oh God. I’m going to be huge.”

“You won’t have to lift a finger. I’ll carry you everywhere,” he offered. The impracticality of his solution made you giggle. Jake rejoiced at his ability to get a rise out of you, “Ay, ahí está ella.”

“Gracias Papi,” you could feel yourself drifting back down into the land of rational thought, until you remembered who was missing, and your stomach became a lead balloon.

“Que ocurre?”

“Is Marc…what’s he doing? God, if I’m freaking out then he must be completely–”

“We’ll figure it out,” your husband interrupted you in his midwest-tinged American accent. “We always do.”

“Do you regret trying for another?” you asked him.

“No baby,” Marc denied instantly, pulling you close to him again. “Do you?”

“No…but this is a lot. It’s a lot,” you confessed.

“I know, and thankfully, they’re not coming tomorrow. So we have time, okay? Honey, you’ve been my rock through so much, it’s time for you to let us be yours now, deal?”

You sniffled, then agreed, “Okay.”

Marc’s sure fingers began to stroke through your hair. You luxuriated in his touch, your heart rate finally descending to a somewhat normal pace.  

A knock on the door fractured the quiet moment you and your husband had found. You two sprang apart, Marc lunged for the counter to grab you a tissue, while you wiped your eyes and nose in a totally futile effort to hide the fact you’d been crying.

“Come in!” you called. Doctor Slater had seen worse, after all.

The doctor did just that, closed the door behind him, and only after he resumed his seat did he begin with “I owe you two an apology.”

Fuck, you thought. There was something wrong. You gripped Marc’s hand for dear life waiting for the ax to drop.

“I hope this isn’t too much of an inconvenience, but we need to do the ultrasound again. I just found out that this is broken,” he revealed, gesturing to the machine next to him, still broadcasting the image of your two unborn children. “There’s a lag on the image, which means I’m not so sure you’re having twins after all.”

Thank goddess you were already sitting down, because otherwise you would’ve fainted, straight up. You did swoon however, and both Marc and Doctor Slater reached for you.

“I am so unbelievably sorry for the bait-and-switch,” he apologized further, “your body is undergoing enough. I’m ninety-five percent sure there’s only one baby in there, so if you can swing it diary-wise, we’ll move next door and confirm it.”

You wanted to say “Sounds good, doc”, but what came out was “I’m going to throw up.”

Your declaration sent your husband scurrying to grab the little room waste bin for you.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. There’s going to be a firm talking-to between me and my staff once I’ve sent you home.”

“It’s okay,” you exhaled, unsure of who you were trying to comfort more, Doctor Slater or yourself. “It’s all good. When will the new room be ready?”

“It should be ready now,” he told you.

“Does she have to move?” your husband asked, his voice revealing that Steven was fronting again. “You’ve had quite the shock just now.”

“I’m okay honey, just help me up,” you assuaged him. You were barely ten weeks along which meant there was no bump to contend with yet, but given the emotional rollercoaster of the past twenty minutes, you wanted your husband to steady you.  

“You sure you’re alright?” Doctor Slater asked. “We can get you a wheelchair.”

You shook your head to dismiss the notion and arranged yourself to dismount from the examination table. “No need, but it’s times like these I’d give anything for a drink, you know?”

Both men burst out laughing at your admission and you proceeded next door to the functional ultrasound machine.  

*** On the ride home you asked Steven, “Are you disappointed there’s only one baby in there after all?”

“Not at all darling,” he instantly averred.

“I won’t be cross if you are. Even just a little.”

Your husband studied you to determine whether your question was a trap. After a long, careful pause, he at last spoke, “Maybe a little disappointed. But I’m over the moon either way.”

“I think it’s sweet how excited you were. You didn't miss a beat, while I went and had a proper meltdown,” you chuckled. “We’re going to have to start thinking of boy names.”

“Ooh yes,” Steven concurred, “I actually had an idea earlier, how do you like–”

“No names of famous anthropologists Steven,” you knew exactly where he was going with this.

He deflated a little, then tried again, “Alright what about–”

“Or archeologists, or anyone in the social sciences, okay?” If Steven had gotten his way with Nyla, your daughter would have been named Hortense or some other incredibly outdated name to honor a dead scholar. “The names have to be personal to both of us.”

Steven harrumphed and even though he didn’t say anything else, you knew this wasn't the end of the conversation.  

“I want to…I’d like to include Ro–um, Randall’s name somehow.”

You took Marc’s hand at once. “Baby yes, that’d be great. Definitely adding Randall to the list.”

“I am happy, you know, that we’re having another,” he told you softly.

Your cheeks burned with shame, “I know, I’m sorry I panicked -- I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not mad,” Marc clarified, “But I don’t want you taking on my…shit, okay?”

“Well, I’m your wife, I can’t help it,” you shrugged, “besides that’s the point of having me right? Of us? We help each other with our shit.”

Marc bristled, “I know but–”

“Not buts Marc, other than your fantastic one,” you cut him off. You knew “feelings” were tricky for your husband still, so sometimes it was best to diffuse with a bit of cheeky humor. “You’re stuck with me, and this baby boy confirms it.”

“Alright, fine,” he surrendered. “I know better than to argue with you.”

You took Marc’s hand in yours and kissed the world-weary skin on the back of it. “Smart man.”

A/N: I’m not sure why when I got this ask I instantly was like “reader (me) would freak” but even with the angst, I hope I was able to give everyone a good dose of loving daddy!Steven and the rest of the boys too! 

Translations:

Esto es una bendición - This is a blessing 

nena - babe 

Yo sé - I know

bien - okay 

Ay, ahí está ella - Hey, there she is 

Gracias Papi - Thanks Daddy 

Que ocurre - What’s wrong? 

Taglist: @twwcs​, @rmoonstoner​, @hot-mess-express1​, @murdickdocked, @toracainz​, @saahmi, @unspokenmoon​, @winterbiipp​, @avatarofseshat​ @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6​, @harrys-tittie​, @ninebluehearts​, @lucianadraven32​, @dawnsutopia​, @strawberry1042-blog @nikitawolfxo​, @weirdo125 @damnzelsoul​ @missmarmaladeth​ @welcometostayingawake​ @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction​

#moon knight #moon knight smut #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant x reader #steven grant x female reader #steven grant x you #steven grant fanfiction #marc spector x reader #marc spector x female reader #marc spector x you #jake lockely x female reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #marc spector fanfiction #jake lockley fanfiction #oscar isaac #oscar issac x reader #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac fanfiction

[tomtenadia]

Never too late

Hello.... Here I am with a new Rowaelin. This is a prompt:

thegreyj asked:

Okay but apparently pregnancy after age 35 is considered a geriatric pregnancy (an old term but still used) and I just have a feeling Aelin would have a fit at being called geriatric

@rowaelinprompts I have been thinking about this for ages and now here I am.

Have fun

(yes, the title sucks)

words: 1.7k CW: only some language

------

Aelin stared at the stick on the bathroom counter and sighed heavily. The line confirming what she had been suspecting for a while. Pregnant. Another deep ragged sigh. Not that she was mad or afraid. No, she and Rowan had three children of varied ages. Their eldest had even started uni already. The youngest was nine and she and Rowan had finally started to enjoy once more the pleasure of sleeping an entire night without interruptions, diapers were a long nightmare away, and all of the aspects of raising an infant were once more a distant dream. She loved her children, madly but a selfish part of her was relishing in them being more self sufficient small humans. 

Another deep breath as she stared at the stick once more. 

And that’s when Rowan’s voice reached her “Ae, you okay? You have been in the bathroom a bit too long.”

Aelin opened the door and stared in the depth of her husband’s worried green eyes. He fussed. All the time and she could clearly see concern etched on his face.

She lifted the stick in front of him “Do you still remember how to burp, swaddle and soothe an infant?”

Aelin saw surprise in his face.

“Are you….”

She nodded and leaned against his hard chest. Within seconds she was cocooned in his arms.

“Ro, I am pregnant again.”

He heard the anguish in his wife’s voice and released a ragged breath too, understanding all of the words behind that statement. 

“Hey, look at me,” he grabbed her face and stared in her blue eyes “I will be at your side all through this again. We have done it three times already, we are pro.” He tried to reassure her as much as he could.

Her face went back to his neck “I know that, by the time we had Freyja we were good but…” how could she voice her thoughts without sounding selfish?

“I was getting used to sleep all through the night, of being able to take a shower almost uninterrupted and all of the other perks of having almost fully functional children.”

Rowan chuckled.

“Gods, I sound so selfish. I love all of them madly. It’s just… Ro, what if we are too old to deal with this?” 

He hugged her tightly. They had Maya, very early. They were both fresh out of uni and she had happened. At the time they had the opposite issue. What if they were too young? But they managed, with sacrifices and help from their parents they had managed to give Maya a happy childhood.

“Remember when you fell pregnant with Maya? We were two clueless teenagers with a lot of dreams. We made it work.” He kissed her nose “now we are adults with good jobs, a house and a better idea of what we are doing.”

“You always make everything sound easier.”

Another gentle kiss “oh don’t worry, I will be panicking again the first time they wake up at night screaming and I can’t put them back to sleep.”

“So, buzzard, are we doing this?”

“Yes, fireheart.”

*

A few days later Aelin was at the hospital for an appointment with her OB/GYN Yrene. The woman had helped her with the first three pregnancies and she liked her.

She was in the waiting room, alone. Rowan was a doctor in the same hospital and he had texted her that there had been an emergency in the A&E and he’d be slightly late. She was nervous, which did nothing to help with her already upset stomach. Morning sickness, something else she hadn’t missed. She was a big fan of keeping her food down. 

Rowan appeared twenty minutes later. Aelin had spoken to Yrene and told her that she didn’t want to go in until Rowan was there too.

Aelin was busy browsing her phone when she spotted a white coat over a set of green scrubs.

“Hey,” he bowed for a kiss “Sorry, MVA, it was chaos for a bit downstairs.” Rowan was the head of trauma surgery in the A&E. He had started from the bottom, juggled med school while looking after her and their daughter. She had gone to work in a bookshop as soon as she could. Then with time she had started working in a publishing company and now she was the head editor. He had worked hard at the same time and now he was the Chief. She was so proud of him.

“Yrene is waiting for us.”

“Welcome, both of you.” Said the doctor, as they walked in.

“Sorry for the delay. It was hellish downstairs.”

“When is the A&E ever quiet?”

The two of them chuckled with some sort of internal joke.

Yrene invited Aelin to lie down and Rowan moved at her side, grabbing her hand.

“So, how do you feel, Aelin?”

Her nose flinched as the cold gel touched her exposed belly “oh I was getting used to being able to keep my food down and definitely my bladder does not miss being used as a squeeze toy.”

Yrene chuckled and stared at the screen in front of her then pointed at a small blob “here we go, this is your baby.”

“This is my fourth time and I still struggle to see anything.”

Rowan gently pulled her hand and placed her finger on the spot were the embryo was visible on the screen “see this darker part here? This is our baby.”

Aelin grumbled “You cheat, you can read one of these screens.”

His hand gently brushed her hair “trust me, that’s it.”

“Look, it has your grumpy face.”

Rowan laughed hard while Yrene continued her checks.

“Everything looks fine for now, but geriatric pregnancies have a lot of possible problems that we will have keep an eye for.” Yrene continued babbling but Rowan did not miss the expression that appeared on Aelin’s face at the word geriatric. He knew it was not a very popular term but it could still be heard among doctors.

“You can still carry the pregnancy to term and delivery a healthy child, but I want to keep an eye on you.”

Rowan asked all of the question while he knew Aelin was on the bed stewing. He knew his wife well and knew that she was waiting for a moment of privacy to explode. He was not a fan of the term, it was old fashioned, but he had heard it thrown around the hospital. In all honesty it made him cringe.

He listened Yrene explain the possible issue with pregnancies n women over the age of 35. He knew all of them but Aelin had to hear them too, like it or not, she had to be more careful this time.

Once the visit was finished they thanked Yrene and he grabbed his wife who was silent at his side and together they made their way to the ground floor to his office where she could just blew up like a volcano. 

They barely made it in the room when Aelin let her anger go “Geriatric. She called me geriatric. How on Earth dare she? I am thirty seven, not a fucking grandma,” Aelin started pacing and Rowan sat against his desk and let her rant until it was time for him to jump in. A word from him at the wrong moment could make things worse. After many years together he knew her deeply and also loved her fire, but as a young couple, he had been burned far too many times for speaking at the wrong time. 

“I don’t have a single grey hair yet, I run almost everyday, I am fit and I could kick her arse in a fight. I am not fucking geriatric.” 

He looked at her finally stop and knew now was the time “Ae…” a tentative step closer “Although I hate the use the term of geriatric to describe the pregnancy of a woman over thirty five, it fits.”

The stare that Aelin gave him would have killed if his wife was able to shoot daggers from her eyes. Danger started to scream his internal mood sensor. 

“Excuse me?”

“Ae, I know you are healthy and fit, sugar intake aside,” a chuckle “and could definitely take Yrene in a fight, but the body ages and changes have taken place in your body that might affect the baby. As she said, it can be done, and I know you’ll do it just as well as you did the other three, but I want you to be a bit more careful this time. For all our family.”

She sighed and crashed against his chest. Damn, he always knew what to say to her and make her melt in a puddle. Her husband was such a sap.

“You are geriatric too, you are a forty years old, buzzard.”

Rowan laughed and knew the danger was over “I am but it looks like my swimmers still are quite resourceful.”

Aelin burst out laughing “you did not just say that.”

“It made you laugh,” his lips met hers in a tender kiss “and that’s my mission accomplished.”

“Do you really think we can do this?”

Rowan nodded “I do, plus we have three kids who, I am positive, will love to help us with their new sibling. Thomas will make a great big brother, Maya can help babysit and earn pocket money…” he explained “Now, Freyja might think the baby is a doll so perhaps she can skip out of babysitting duties for a while.” Another kiss “we have my parents too who will be delighted to have another grandchild. We are in a better place than when we were eighteen, fireheart.”

She looked up at her husband with a big smile. Rowan had been her rock since forever. They had surpassed every obstacles together. The good days and the bad days.

Her mouth landed on his neck, nibbling gently at his sensitive spot “my boobs will get bigger once again, think about the perks.”

Rowan’s arms circled her waist and pulled her closer.

Aelin kissed him hungrily, need seeping from her body “Buzzard, let’s just show the world who is geriatric.”

With Aelin still in his arms he pushed back to the door and locked it, then a moment later he was pushed on the sofa with Aelin straddling him “Show me what you got, old man.”

And together, on the sofa of his office, they let their fears behind and joined once more in that promise of blood and flesh that had been holding them together for two decades.

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#rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin #rowaelin fan fiction #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin kids #aelin galathynius #rowan x aelin #domestic fluff

[dragonmuse]

I’ve debated writing about this on tumblr a bunch of times, but I think new year, new even more open me. And if this can help even one other person not live with this bullshit than I want to do it.

CW: Birth control talk, menstruation talk, libido talk.

I got off birth control this past summer. I’d been on it for over a decade and I was worried it was adding to a rise in my blood pressure. My husband got a vasectomy since we agreed we’re done having kids, happy with the one thanks so much.

It changed my life. Listen, I love birth control, I would give it out like candy on the streets. But nobody ever told me it could fuck with your libido. I had done a previous many year stint on it with no issue, but I was also very young.

The second time around things changed. And I didn’t even know it was the goddamn birth control. For eight years, my libido flatlined. I had very little interest in sex, was sometimes sex-repulsed. I stopped writing smut entirely, something that had once been fairly prevalent in my work. I felt sad about it all the time. I mourned the loss, I cried in bed. My husband and I had hundreds of understanding and loving conversations about it (he was amazing about it and was willing to try whatever I was willing to try). I talked to three different ob/gyns who were like ‘uhhh no idea, maybe see a sex specialist? There’s none in our area really and insurance won’t cover it but....’ because no one values vulva-havers sexual experiences. I was 32 the first time I told a doctor about this and he asked me zero follow up questions. The most helpful of the three recommended a long lasting lubrication that post-menopausal people use. That was it. That was the sum total of the help I got. EIGHT YEARS.

So I got off the pill for my blood pressure. Two weeks later, I was hornier than I had been in years. I prayed with everything I had that it wasn’t an anomaly. I wept literal tears for awhile every time it continued to be good. Every time I wanted to enjoy some private time. Every time I wrote sex because it was fun and felt fun to write!

 It’s been six months and yeah, I get horrible cramping bloody mess periods again, but I also love sex again! It’s great! It’s so much fun and messy and intimate and I actually go looking for it instead of grimly plotting it out on calendar because if I went too many days between it would hurt more the next time.

To be clear, I still very much consider myself demisexual because that is how I have always rolled. I don’t think anyone should suggest getting off birth control to someone because of how they identify, fuck off with that shit. But if you used to have a libido and now you do not and somewhere in there you started a hormone based pill, it might be worth trying a different kind!

#birth control #reproductive health #sex health #sex education

[secretobsessionstuff]

From the are you ok response prompts can you write an Alexi and Michah fic with a sick Alexei and numbers37,87, and 71?

Thanks for the request! The prompts from THIS lovely list and I used:

37. "No. I have the worst stomach ache."

71. "No, I think I'm sick. Really sick."

87. *holding head in hands* "No. I feel like I'm gonna pass out."

Content Warnings: Mention of gender dysphoria, mention of gender affirming surgery (hysterectomy), gendered medical space (ob-gyn office). Graphic descriptions of emeto!! If I missed any CW let me know!

----------------------

The car was stopped—parked in front of the clinic—but neither Micah nor Alexi moved. They each breathed deeply as if trying to push a weight off their chests. 

Micah knew very well why he was nervous. It was his first consultation with his doctor to get a hysterectomy. Micah already hated walking into the ob-gyn office because it was an overwhelmingly gendered space. His doctor did her best to make the experience comfortable for him, but it would never be perfect. 

So yeah, he knew why he was breathing deeply, but not why Alexi was doing the same. His boyfriend was a vital piece that made process this easier. Usually Alexi was calm and optimistic, but today he was antsy and glum. The boy had his head knocked back against the seat, eyes closed, hands still on the steering wheel. 

“Ready?” Micah asked, feeling like their roles were switched. Alexi was the one who asked that before every appointment. And there had been many appointments. Cramps, cysts, family history of cancer, not to mention dysphoria. Yep, there have been many appointments that began with Alexi asking ‘ready’, yet that day was opposite day. 

Alexi opened his eyes with a jolt. He sniffled and looked around, apparently remembering that they came here to do something. He blinked hard and dragged a hand down his face. “Yep—yeah, let’s go in.” 

“Do you need a second?” 

“Why would I need a second?” 

Micah shrugged. “You look tired, and a little pale.” 

“I didn’t sleep that well last night,” Alexi said truthfully. He had tossed and turned, aware that his body felt off. Achy, hot, and tight. 

And all those lovely adjectives woke up with him that morning. They got dressed with him, making his clothes feel wrong against his skin. Achy, hot, and tight joined him in the car as they made their way to Micah’s appointment. And now another word joined the mix: nauseous. 

He shifted in the seat, not wanting to get out of the car. 

But too bad, he told himself, you gotta get out because Micah needs you inside. 

Go. Get out right now. Now. 

But he was still sitting there. His stomach was the only thing that moved. It churned and cramped painfully.

“Lexi,” Micah said softly. “Seriously, are you okay?” 

He knew that Micah would be wearing the most concerned expression, so he tried not to look at his boyfriend. But he failed. He sighed upon seeing the patience written on Micah’s face, and said, “No. I have the worst stomach-ache.” 

“Yeah, you said something about your stomach hurting last night. Do you think you’re sick?” 

“No,” Alexi said immediately. “I’m not…I’m just—I don’t know.” He decided to end the conversation by opening the car door. “Come on or you’ll be late.” 

Micah shook his head but followed. He mumbled something under his breath about having a stubborn boyfriend. 

“I don’t mind if you stay in the car,” Micah said as he and Alexi walked up to the front of the building. His words might have rung true if he hadn’t grabbed Alexi’s hand as soon as they were close enough to touch. 

“Nope. I’m good.” Alexi squeezed Micah’s hand. This was where he had to be. Where he wanted to be. 

Micah gave his name at the front desk. The girl behind the computer smiled at him and told him to wait until they called him. They chose two seats in a corner, away from the other people in the waiting room. Micah rubbed his hands up and down his thighs as he sat down. 

“Are you nervous?” Alexi asked. 

“Yes, but this is what I want.” 

“You can still be nervous, babe.” 

“I know,” Micah said in a tone that made him sound like a teenager who’d been given sappy advice by a parent. “But it’s not like the surgery is today.” 

“So? It’s still important. This is the first step, and you’re going to feel however you want.” 

“I don’t want to feel nervous.” 

“You know what I mean. You’re going to feel however you’re going to feel.” 

Micah saw his opening to change the subject and he took it. “Speaking of which, how are you feeling? For real. No downplaying for my benefit.” 

Alexi exhaled and slumped deeper in his chair. “I’ve been better. Kinda queasy but it’s probably just because it’s early in the morning,”  

“Wow, you really misunderstood my instructions, didn’t you?” Micah gave him an incredulous look. “Anything that has the words ‘but it’s probably just’ is downplaying.” 

Alexi let the comment linger without replying. Micah dropped the matter when one of the staff members popped her head into the waiting room. She didn’t call Micah’s name, so he slunk into his chair as well, matching Alexi’s height. The two of them sat there anxiously, restless for different reasons.

Alexi crossed his arms over his belly. The churning did not subside. He watched Micah’s knee bounce up and down, and up and down. It was making Alexi dizzier than he already was. He wished he could find the energy to distract Micah from his worries, but he couldn’t even distract himself from his own sick gut. His breakfast swirled in its turbulent pit of acid. 

A burp escaped from his mouth, making him shiver with increased nausea. It wasn’t loud but it had been wet and tasted disgusting. He could feel more pressure building up in his tummy, so he excused himself to the washroom.

“Wait,” Micah said quickly before Alexi could leave. His eyebrows were pinched together with anxiety. “Will you be long? What if they call me?” 

“I’ll try not to be long,” Alexi promised. He didn’t like seeing the worry on his boyfriend’s face, but he really didn’t want to keep burping in the quiet waiting room. “Text me if it’s your turn.” 

“…okay,” Micah said in a small voice.  

In the bathroom, Alexi leaned on the counter. In the mirror, he could see his throat bobbing with the need to burp. The pressure rose from his belly and erupted from his mouth. This one was wetter and deeper than the last one. He let his head hang over the sink as saliva dripped form his lips. 

He pressed his palm into his aching tummy, praying that the organ settled down before Micah texted. The nausea was unbearable. It hurt so bad. Sweat dotted his grey skin. 

“Ugh—” His moans of pain were cut off by another deep belch. Alexi squeezed his eyes shut as his belly continued to cramp. He was surprised that he had hadn’t vomited yet. Only sickly burps were coming up. 

Then his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Alexi let out a miserably moan. He couldn’t leave the bathroom. Not like this. He knew he was going to be sick very soon. His mouth was overflowing with saliva. He wanted to text back, but the nausea got the better of him. It pulled his feet towards the stall where he could gag over the toilet. 

His phone buzzed again. 

And again. 

With hand on over his mouth and one hand holding his phone, Alexi tried to text back. He was in the middle of his typo-riddled message when the bathroom door squealed open. 

“Lexi? Are you—” Micah froze mid-sentence when he saw his boyfriend kneeling in the stall with spit hanging on his lips. 

Alexi sniffled. “I’m sorry.” He spat into the toilet. “I think I'm sick. Really sick."

“You think?” Micah said as he came up behind his boyfriend. He knelt next to him and put his hand on his quivering back. “Oh babe, your poor belly.” 

“It really hurts, Micah.” 

“I know,” he cooed, wincing as Alexi belched up a mouthful of thick saliva. Alexi clutched his chest when a gag forced his shoulders to roll. “Oh honey, I’m sorry. Just get it up.” 

A sickening retch gurgled in Alexi’s throat. He felt his stomach squeeze before a torrent of vomit rushed up from his gut. “Ghuuggh…” he choked out in between the first and second heave. The next retch made tears leak onto his cheeks from the force of it. 

“Shh, that’s it,” Micah mumbled. “You’re okay. Keep going.” 

He kept going, unable to stop the flood of vomit from rushing from his mouth. It burned his throat and filled nose. Snot and sick dripped from his face, into the toilet. “Ugh, fuck,” he mumbled with a congested voice. 

“Here, love,” Micah said, passing him a handful of toilet paper. 

Blinking through tears, Alexi took the tissue and blew his nose. His head felt stuffed and heavy with sickness. The edges of his vison were blurry. “Uh, I feel like crap,” he said, throwing the toilet paper into the bowl. He flushed the toilet so that he didn’t have to look at what he did. 

“And yet,” Micah began, “you didn’t think you were sick until just now.” 

“I might have been understating that part.” 

“I had no idea.” 

Alexi groaned at the smug tone in Micah’s voice. His head was swimming in encroaching darkness. He rested his forehead against the toilet, waiting for the world to stop spinning around him. He could feel Micah’s fingers running through his hair. 

“If you’re finished, I’d like to get you home, babe.” 

“But your appointment,” Alexi mumbled half-heartedly.

“We’ll reschedule.” Micah patted Alexi on the back one more time and stood up from his knelt position. “Okay, time to go home. I can feel the fever through your clothes.” 

Alexi did not move from his spot. 

“Lexi, please. You’ll feel so much better at home.” 

He just moaned. 

Micah sighed and crouched back down. “Honey? Are you alright?” 

Finally, Alexi moved, but it was just to bury his head in his hands. “No. I feel like I'm gonna pass out.” 

“Oh. Well then,” Micah said, sitting back down and crossing his legs, “looks like we’re not going anywhere. Take all the time you need.” 

Alexi sniffled and gave a small nod in Micah’s direction. “Can I put my head in your lap?” 

“That’s what it’s there for.” Micah guided Alexi to the floor. It was still the dirty floor of a public washroom, but at least he could act as Alexi’s pillow. This was a better option compared to fainting and hitting his head on the floor. 

“Micah,” Alexi mumbled in a trance. Micah’s fingers running along his scalp were lulling him to sleep. 

“Yes?” 

“I love you so much.” 

“I love you so much more.” 

Alexi wouldn’t let himself drift off until he said one more thing. “I was supposed to make you feel better today. Sorry I couldn’t do that.”

“That’s alright, love. You will when you’re feeling better,” Micah said in a whisper. 

#emeto #emetophilia #emeto fic #emeto fiction #sickfic #emetophiliac #emetophile #my ocs #Micah #Alexi #vomiting #vomit kink #fever fic #fever #stomach ache #nausea #nausea fic #stomach ache fic #stomach flu #stomach bug #stomachache #stomach flu fic #stomach bug fic #puke with plot :) #puke without plot #h/c #hurt/comfort #angst #angst fic #illness

[tvguts]

Actually, you know what, I'm going to post about this as a PSA even if it is kinda TMI. CW for talking about vaginas. Did you know that your cervix can MOVE up or down in your body depending on hormones and other factors? Even if you've never felt it or noticed it move before? I feel like I should let more people know about this just so I can prevent someone from, let's say hypothetically, noticing a "weird lump" and immediately assuming it's cancer, worrying nonstop about it for days, and then spending $70 for an OB/GYN to look at it a few weeks later and tell you it's your cervix (you moron) and it's fine now anyway

#WHY did god make me so fucking stupid #i know it's gross but like. if i can prevent someone from making the same mistake it's worth posting i guess #irrelevance

[judasdreams]

CW: AFAB related reproductive... things. (Just in case anyone else but me reads this anyhow.)

Oh mother of...

I just went to my Dr today, courtesy of the guy who's literal job it is to help me around...

(Still bitter about the strike tho.)

Anyway, the last thing that happened is that my Dr asked for the office staff member/nurse to get me an appointment to a ob-gyn... for contraception... while said MAN was standing in the lobby a little ways away from us... and I asked for a few "barriers" that the nurse/office staff had on her desk on top of everything...

MA'AM I SWEAR THAT PERSON WAS THERE TO JUST HELP ME! HE HAS A FAMILY! THEY ARE WAITING FOR A BABY IN THE BEGINNING OF THE YEAR! I PROMISE!

(I only now realized how bad it may have looked. Fucking whoopsie, pun totally intended because I deal with scary and embarrassing shit with humor.)

#diary entry

[postsofbabel]

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#posts of babel

[gwydionmisha]

CW: Rape.

#Columbia University #Rape #OB/GYN #Robert Hadden #Cover Up #News

[ramrodd]

Bishop Jack Spong address 14 June 2015: 'Walking Forward' with Bishop Jo...

COMMENTARY:

Bishop John Shelby Spong is a casualty of the dialectical Marxism of the Jesus Seminar, which, for reasons which are not entirely clear to me, sustains the conceit that the Gospel of Mark was derived, in some manner, from  Paul's Epistles and were written by John Mark at the urging of Papias in 72 or later.

Pilaate Rwote the first report of the Resurrection and forwarded it to Tiberius under the Roman miliary FLAS protocol of εὐαγγελίου  immediately in 31. The ministry of Jesus began in the 16th year of Tiberius's reign, which translates to 28 XW and extended over 4 Passovers.

This εὐαγγελίου   communications was probably on the way to Rome before Jesus ascended at Pentecost, although the events are not connected. The text of the communication was essentially what we now know as the Gospel of Peter, which contains the critical detail of the unilateral covenant cutting ceremony provided by the Holy Spirit fo the 16 soldiers and centurion standing watch at the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea

When Tiberius actually receives this εὐαγγελίου   communication is critical. The critical factor is the timing of when Tiberius received the communication, and his proposal to enroll Jesus in the Roman Pantheon and the execution of Sejanus, which occurs on 18 October 32. It  probably doesn't matter, because I would propose that the fear and loathing of the Roman eleite for Tiberius as a consequence of his brutal suppression of the Sejanus plot became conflated with Christians from then until Constantine  reversed the Empires policy to Christianity afer the Melvian Bridge

Between the time of Pilate's εὐαγγελίου  and Peter's encounter with Cornelius sometime between 37 CW to 40 CE, assembled what we now understand as the Quelle archive from the Roman military intelligence files that had been initiated when Jesus appeared above the Roman military horizon just after Passover 28 CE and took command of John the Baptist's repentance movement.

Jesus activities are documented from that moment until He is remanded to the Romans just before the Passover 31 CE in the various Gospels by the εὐθὺς  apparatus, but the composition of what we have come to call the Gospel of Mark doesn't begin until Peter is brought to Cornelius in Acts 10 and fleshes out details to the spine of the Roman time line with  the inner workings of Team Jesus, an event Luke documents from the Q source in Acts 10:16.  Off stage in Acts 10, Cornelius provides Peter the details of the  εὐαγγελίου  communication Pilate sent to Tiberius immediately after the Resurrection.

Peter refers  to this text in Acts 15:27 during the Jerusalem Council with Paul in 48 CE. It is  clear of the autograph of the Gospel of Mark has arrived in a codex form by the time Matthew begins to assemble his polemic supporting Peter's Judaizing after the council of Jerusalem and both the Gospel of Mark, the Gospel of Matthew and the Quelle archive are available to Luke when he begins to research his own Gospel as an agent of Theophilus while Paul is imprisoned in Caesarea  in 5 8, in addition to his access to Cornelius and all the players still living in Jerusalem, including Mary, Mother of Jesus.

Luke apparently had a thriving OB/GYN practice with the Jewish women that Paul employed to penetrate the various Jewish communities during this second ministry , being Greek, Luke didn't have the hang ups about women Jewish men did, especially concerning their lady parts and the testimony of Mary and Elizabeth has that sort of chatty waiting room quality someone comfortable with women could elicit. The evidence is that Luke was preparing an amicus brief in preparation for the defense of Paul in Rome when Theophilus enlisted him in the program to research the background of Jesus as important military technology.

At some pint after hiis sojourn on Cyprus, John Mark became the publisher of the Gospel of Mark in Alexandria, as well as a part of the editorial committee that shaped the final version of the Gospel. Dan Wallace notes two things, that 90& of the manuscripts before the 4th Century come out of  Alexandria and that there are no Gospel scrolls: they are all codex. The Romans kept their records on loose leaf  papyrus and bound them together as codex when moving records up and own the chain of command.

Which brings us to the Gospel of John. Papias didn't know that εὐαγγελίου  would eventually become known as the Gospel of Mark, which is largely shaped by Peter's testimony to Cornelius, so it was without irony that he urged John Mark to preserve his recollections  of his experience with Peter in is own Gospel, And John Mark did better than that: he composed a memoir from his experiences with Jesus beginning when he was a 12 year old novate preparing for his Bar Mitzva some time just before the Festival of the Tabernacles in 28 CE with a narrative that is entwined with the narrative of the Gospel of Mark, which he knew intimately.

The effect is the Gospel of Mark is the Greco-Roman play-by[play commentary and the Gospel of John in the Hellenistic Jewish color commentary that stretches out the time line of Jesus's ministry over the 4 Passovers. And these four εὐαγγελίου   along  with the amicus brief of Acts and Paul's Epistles become the bibliography of Theophilus' Christian manifesto, the Letter to the Hebrews, which he distributed to all the clandestine Christian fellowships in the Roman legions masquerading as Mithra cults and Emperor worship.

And,  just for the record, both Pilate and Cornelius expected their intelligence reports to be understood literally and exactly as written. John Mark is a bit more artful with his creative license, but the only artful element in the Gospel of Mark is the flash back describing the execution of John the Baptist.

#youtube

[merakiui]

Oh my god I never thought Id see an alpha!scaramouche. Mera, hes been on my brain a lot recently because of the leaks I saw of him (nervous about what his new design is gonna be and what his animations are gonna be). Some more brainrot for omegaverse though ! Maybe a way you would find out about him being an alpha is that your suppresants don't get renewed on time so when you go to seek comfort from the wanderer you notice he seems a bit different around you. Theres just a little hint of brainrot, you'd do a better job at expanding on it than I possibly could <3

Omg he's been on my mind so much lately!! orz I miss brain rotting about him, so expect lots of mouchey thoughts. <3

(cw: yandere, omegaverse/abo, pregnancy, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession)

As for the omegaverse brain rot, what if it's that one trope where Scara gets you pregnant by accident because you went into heat and he got overwhelmed by his instincts and the two of you end up fucking without protection? And he's so close to biting your neck and claiming you as his for all of eternity, but he miraculously holds back and just,,,, sinks his teeth into his arm instead!!! And now the both of you are sort of stuck together after the pregnancy test comes back positive some time later. You're so ashamed that you've burdened Scara with this and you apologize profusely while he just stares at the test, half-expecting a joke or a mistake or something. You tell him you'll deal with this yourself and you suggest getting rid of the baby since you can't afford the resources or the time needed to care for a child. You're in your final year of university. You have to focus on your degree, not a child, and you don't want to bother Scara with any of your problems.

Scara has this moment of internal panic when he hears you say that because he actually doesn't want you to do any of that. He can't explain why, but the idea of you getting rid of the baby makes him feel oddly uncomfortable. So, since he's a very well-off alpha with a stable and respectable job, he moves you into his penthouse. He says it's only to keep you safe. Omegas are already vulnerable enough, but one that's pregnant and emits the sweetest pheromones?! That's just asking for conflict. Scara promises he'll schedule an appointment with an ob-gyn (hmm maybe it's alpha albedo ooohhhh), but he waits a while. He'd prefer to keep this between you and him (the last thing he needs is Miko breathing down his neck if she finds out; and she'll no doubt tell Ei and then he'll really be in hot water). He'll have the family doctor come in to see you. You won't even have to leave his home, save for when you travel to uni.

Scara's almost never home. And for the first few months, it feels like he just doesn't care about you, which isn't too terrible because it allows you to do all the things you'd normally do regardless of this new arrangement. But Scara is so cold and distant, almost always in a foul mood when he's home, and you begin to wonder if this was a good idea. But while you stew over your doubt, Scara's been watching you through the cameras in his home while he's at work. You're so precious when you're oblivious, and he's given an immense serotonin boost when he watches you crawl into his bed and wrap yourself up in the blankets, most likely to surround yourself with his scent.

There are just a few concerning issues. One: You're still attending university and he can't always follow you to and from your school. Two: Your friends are always messaging your phone. He'd know because he's had a colleague he's acquainted with tap into your phone so that he can read every message as soon as you receive it. You haven't told them anything yet, which is a relief because he wants to make you disappear from the world so that it'll be you, him, and the adorable baby growing inside you. You don't need those fools anyway. And three: You don't actually like him. There's no love. You're just here because he told you he'd take responsibility.

But when your friends insist on meeting up with you, claiming that you never go out anymore, it really gnaws on Scara's patience. And when you get into heated arguments with him when he refuses to let you go outside for fresh air, of all things, and he has to calm himself down because he doesn't want his temper or the intense amount of pheromones he's releasing to stress you and the baby out, it just adds more fuel to the growing fire. You only need him. Why can't you realize that? That's what you told him while he was fucking you all those months ago. So why does it feel like you can function perfectly fine without him (save for those little moments when you get weepy and melancholic, yearning for an alpha's presence)? He'll make sure you'll depend on him soon enough.

After all, he'll be the only one in your life. There won't be anyone else to turn to. You'll have no choice but to accept him and this life, even if you think you can leave after you've given birth to Scara's child. There's no way he's letting you go now, not when he's fallen so deep into this obsession.

#genshin chit chat #kier-xs #yandere scaramouche #tw: omegaverse #tw: abo #tw: pregnancy #miserable alpha salaryman scara x overworked tired omega uni student reader... #<3 wonderful dynamic hehe #so many alpha scara thoughts omg OTL

[fantasiavii]

My ovary has been fucking stabbing me all day what did I do to deserve this

#i was going to call my ob/gyn when it had been 90 days since my last period but uh. might have to do it sooner #it hurts so much #i *think* it’s my ovary #just the one on one side #menstruation. #period cw #l’histoire de ma vie

[sweetdreamspootypie]

cw cancer, medical abuse, forced sterilization

Anyone know where do find a decent gif from Fawlty Towers of Basil going “YOU BASTARD!!!!”

It is for professional reasons.

I’m currently doing my nursing degree class reading about the Cartwright Inquiry

and every 3rd annotation I make is a comment box just going “BASTARD”

I don’t know much about it yet because I’m only 5 pages into the 20 page reading.  We study this because it was a huge deal and formative to healthcare legislation and whatnot here in NZ back in the day, so every healthcare worker needs to know what happened so we can stop it happening again

Cartwright inquiry was about a gynecologist called Dr Herbert Green here in New Zealand and back in the 60s and 70s he didn’t like that cervical cancer killed young women who could make good wives (bc who cares about actual people dying lol), and that the treatment for preventing cervical cancer was hysterectomies (sterilization), or cervical surgery (made conception difficult) and thus by choosing to save herself, a woman had “thrown away a unique possession” (*gag*)

and so he decided to study cervical cancer and wanted to find out how often abnormal pap smears actually turn into cancer, because he wanted to reduce how often surgery was used to prevent cancer.

So. he. fucking. used his patients at lab rats. he didn’t tell them that “any other doctor would say you’re at high risk for cancer” he just didn’t treat them. told them they were fine. called them back every few months so he could watch their cancer grow while telling them they were fine.

I just got to the paragraph where he started ordering hysterectomies of women who hadn’t had an official cancer diagnoses, only an abnormal pap smear, because he didn’t want to do a biopsy because he wanted to fucking look at her cervix in a lab without the biopsy damaging the possible cancer.

he just. cut out her uterus without medical need. because he was so committed to using real people as lab rats. because women aren’t people. they’re just wives and baby makers and what’s one unnecessary sterilization if it lets you study your little pro-life heart out justify not treating women for cancer because you want them to get pregnant instead.

so now I am ranting here. ugh.

utter.

BASTARD.

Article in Question if you want to be angry alongside me: (pdf scan of a magazine article from 1987) 

https://www.cartwrightinquiry.com/?page_id=131

[edited a whole bunch of typos]

#nurblr #medblr #cancer cw #medical abuse #medical neglect #forced sterilisation #misogyny in medicine #history #new zealand history #misogyny #cissexism cw #how do you tag for the concept of how OB/GYN research history is full of atrocities? #may his memory be a blessing because we will remember his name and spit it

[lenniershairlessredacted]

so it turns out waking up at 4 am and going on even a couple short flights is exhausting??? no more practice tests tonight, just grubhubbing some exotic fast food and poking through my lab value notes and drug book and trying to relax before tomorrow’s exam. if I fail I fail ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#I feel like it's going to come down to so much luck #like will I get a fuckton of questions about ob/gyn and cancer treatments I've never heard of? who knows~~~ #school cw #sorta