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sweetiecutie · 7 months

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Pairing: König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, periods sex, blood play but not really(?), softie König

A/n: very self-indulgent. My periods are as tough as ever and there’s no one to comfort me, so I guess I’ll have to do it myself🥲

König didn’t really know much about periods. Well, of course he knew what menstruation is and that every woman has it once a month, but that was pretty much it. So when you started dating poor guy saw how things really were in female world.

He noticed how moody you would become a week prior your periods, how snappy you’d react to his harmless teasing. König noted your craving for sweets as well, and how angry and sad you’d be over a few pimples that appeared so unwelcomed on your precious face. And König felt truly sorry for you - it was clear as day that you were a hormonal mess, and there wasn’t anything he could do to help you, no matter how much he wanted to.

And then your periods finally came. König watched you get up suddenly from your spot on the couch, rushing straight to the bathroom. He was a bit confused - you were all snuggled up together, watching a movie you picked - did something happen? He knocked on the bathroom door softly, asking if everything was good - a few moments later you opened the door, sour expression on your face as you scrunch up the wrap from the pad. “Yeah, my periods started” you mumbled begrudgingly, your lips pulled in a small pout.

König who just couldn’t bear seeing his precious baby in pain, did everything in his power to comfort you. He wrapped his warm strong arms around your frail form, cuddling you into his chest. His fingers grazed gently the soft skin of your tummy where it ached, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, scattering small kisses wherever he could reach.

König did his research on how to ease menstrual pains. Painkillers, massage, yoga. But what particularly caught his attention - almost every article he’d read said that orgasm is a great way to get rid of cramps - not only healthy but pleasurable as well. So of course he suggested you just that.

König was so sad to see you this fearful and hesitant - “Baby, it’ll make a huge mess. Everything will be covered in blood and I don’t want you to get yourself dirty and-“ you rambled on, his eyes growing wide with every word you said. “Y/n, what are you even talking about?” He interrupted you softly, huge hands coming to cup your cheeks and he looks into your eyes deeply.

“Do you really think a bit of blood will stop me from fucking my amazing sexy girl? If you don’t want this - it’s okay, but please don’t think that I’m disgusted by you bleeding” he said it so earnestly, kissing both of your cheeks reassuringly. König hated the idea of you being self-conscious about absolutely natural processes in your body. So when you nodded shyly, slightly spreading your legs for him to settle in between them, König couldn’t contain a wide grin, even while kissing you passionately.

So with a thick towel under your hips, König got to work - lapping away at your poor pussy, smearing a mixture of your blood, slick and his own saliva all over his cheeks, gazing up at you drunkenly, moaning into your folds at the taste and smell of you. His fingers gently pumped in and out of your sopping cunt, marveling at the wetness blood provided, how easily three of his thick digits slipped into your sensitive cunny.

And only after making you cum on his mouth two times, König decided to fully indulge you, getting his heavy cock out of his boxers. With gentle move of his hips he sunk right into your velvety warmth, penetration as easy as ever due to blood lubrication. He went as gentle as ever, noting how overly sensitive you were - way more than usual. König made sure to not go too deep, to not disturb your poor uterus even more.

König was so sweet, rubbing your clit non-stop, wringing orgasm after orgasm out of your soft beautiful body. He scattered kisses all over your neck and chest, careful to not graze your sore from hormones nipples. And only when you couldn’t take no more - a trembling sweaty mess in his loving arms, babbling and whimpering deliriously, he allowed himself to finally cum on your twitching tummy.

König fucked you so good it took you several minutes to regain consciousness - with bleary eyes you looked up to him, your breath hitching slightly. Here was your boyfriend sitting next to you, grinning from ear to ear; lower half of his face was completely covered in dried blood, his hands and lower stomach glistening with dark red. That would definitely look terrifying if you didn’t know what exactly he was just doing.

“So how are your cramps?” He asked, his white teeth contrasting with brownish-red on his cheeks and lips. You closed your eyes in exhaustion, sinking deeper into soft pillows.

“Gone” you said, making König’s smile brighten impossibly more.

And yes, he’d definitely joke about being a vamp from this day on🙄

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writers some love, we live off feedback<3

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lucyrose191 · 5 months

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PROTECTIVE SHIELD| K.RÄIKKÖNEN

Pairing: Protective!Kimi x Sunshine!driver!reader

Summary; You always have a smile on your face, even through the struggles of being the only female driver but when it feels like the entire media is against you it’s hard to keep that smile on your face but Kimi won’t allow it to disappear, he’s always there protecting you.

Warnings; fluff, mistreatment of women

F1 Master List

You had fought to get in the position you were in today and you had done it all with a smile on your face. It was easy back then, when there was less attention on you and less people questioning your every decision or underestimating your talent compared to the other drivers on the grid simply because you weren’t a man.

You were known for your smile, the way it was always present with everyone you spoke to and no matter the question you were asked but people seemed to take it as an invitation to say whatever they wanted as though it had no affect on you.

It didn’t in the beginning.

But as each of the questions piled on top of each other, the strain made it harder to maintain the smile, your struggle was hard to notice because you did such a good job of hiding it but one person did.

Kimi Räikkönen.

Whilst he was quiet, he was observant.

To him only a fool would think your smile was real. There was clearly such a huge difference between you being happy and you pretending to be happy.

There were no more sparkles in your eyes or twitch of your nose and it enraged him.

It was infuriating, knowing that the journalists and media had managed to ruin the pureness in you.

He wasn’t going to allow them to destroy you of everything you were.

You normally didn’t mind the driver’s press conferences but lately they’ve been…. hard.

The questions lately have hardly been about driving, instead about your possible challenges against the other drivers or if you feel as though you’re at a disadvantage.

You don’t. You’ve said countless times that you don’t feel the need to be treated differently in any sense and that you being female added no extra struggles in your opinion.

It seemed the tipping point for Kimi with these questions was when a female journalist asked not only peculiar but disturbing question.

You smiled at the woman as she stood up, thinking you’d get a real question about driving but that smile soon faded as she opened her mouth.

"Hi, this is a question for Y/N. As a woman, I was curious as to whether it’s more difficult for you to finish a race during the time of the month when you’re menstruating?"

You hated it. You hated that just because they’re a woman they think it excuses the questions they’re asking.

Beside you Kimi scoffed loudly, the most noise he’d made during the entire conference. "What sort of fucking question is that?" He stared straight into the woman’s eyes with a face as hard as ice.

The woman seemed taken back by him and started stuttering. "I-well-I was just-"

Kimi shook his head "We’ve been sat in these chairs for half an hour and not a single one of you imbeciles has asked her a real fucking question about the car or the race. All of you have sat there and just questioned her ability to do her job as if any of you know a thing about racing."

Kimi stood up from his seat and gestured for you to get up as well from where you were sitting in pure shock, lips parted and eyes wide you did and followed him out of the room, ignoring the fact that you weren’t meant to be leaving any time soon.

He was raging, he had sat and watched as your smile dimmed with each question; anger building inside until he just couldn’t keep it to himself anymore.

You had to run to catch up with him, he was walking so fast, fuelled by his anger. Your body was still in shock from the way he had spoken and stood up for you but you caught his arm which caused his footsteps to pause.

You looked up at him in silence for a moment, contemplating what to say as he looked down at you with those piercing blue eyes.

"You didn’t have to do that," you settled on saying.

Kimi huffed, glancing away for a short minute before returning his gaze back to you. "I did, I wasn’t going to sit and let them speak to you like that, you deserve better."

You shrugged and smiled weakly "It’s how it’s always been, they’re not going to change and I’ve accepted that."

"You shouldn’t need to," he argued before grumbling under his breath and reaching out to cup your cheeks, keeping his gaze locked with yours. "They’re taking away your smile and I’m not going to let them. You’re beautiful and your smile is beautiful, I’m not letting them take that away from you."

You blinked up at him in shock whilst trying to process his words, raising your own hands up to wrap around his wrists to keep his in place.

Eventually, you smiled and leaned into his touch. "Thank you."

He gave you that half smile you knew so well before pulling you into his embrace "Don’t listen to anything they say, they don’t know you."

You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t let them knock you down, not when you had Kimi there to stand in front of you like a protective shield or hold your hand as you walked through the media storm.

You could do anything with him beside you, you could even keep your smile.

#formula one #motorsport #fluff #formula one x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #kimi raikkonen x reader #kimi raikkonen x you #kimi raikkonen #kimi räikkönen #iceman x reader #kr7

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troublesomesnitch · 1 month

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Make Your Hands Unclean

Aemond x Wife!Reader - Period sex drabble

Premise and bits of dialogue shamelessly stolen from The Borgias.

Contents: drabble, pure filth. Menstrual sex, p in v, anal touching, graphic imagery. Internalised misogyny and harmful attitudes towards menstruation. Aemond is an asshole. Porn with weird plottish vibes.

Words: 2300

idk what this even is, this thing kind of wrote itself and I just went with it. It is kind of a mess tbh.

You were supposed to marry a lord.

That is what you were raised for, and those are the skills you were taught. To sing, to dance, to play the harp; to make yourself look pleasant. Your septa taught you to sew, and a woman from Essos taught you to weave, and in the afternoons the maester taught you history and linguistics, astronomy and arithmetic, and other things that ladies rarely speak about, but nevertheless must learn.

For it is the lady, not the lord, who runs the castle. Who manages the household, and oversees the people it employs. Such a lady must ideally be both kind and commanding, generous and frugal. She must know how to handle serfs and noblemen alike, and she must be proficient in numeracy; able to record expenses and perform difficult calculations.

To be a prince’s wife requires no such skills.

This castle already has two queens, and besides it is not for royal women to concern themselves with practical matters. There are ladies-in-waiting for that, and stewards, chamberlains, maids and matrons; an army of servants hundreds strong to ensure that you may always be spoiled and idle. More than a lady, but less than a queen, left to twiddle your thumbs and wonder when, if ever, the oppressive walls of Maegor’s Holdfast will begin to feel like home.

You do not like it here.

The days are long in King’s Landing, and the air is foul, polluted by the smoke of ten thousand hearths, by the stench of filth and unwashed bodies. It seeps through every crack and crevice, and you like the early mornings the most, when a cleansing mist blows in from the sea, and the ship’s bells ring over Blackwater Bay.

Your husband rises early too, though it is for different reasons. Prince Aemond adheres to strict routines, to noble pursuits and rigorous discipline. He is exactly as people say: a stoic, severe in both temper and countenance, condemning indulgence and deriding depravity.

Yet for all of his moral posturing, he does seem to have developed a taste for it rather quickly.

You couldn’t say the exact number of times the prince has had you, but it has been many, and often, and in every position imaginable, and you dutifully report it all back to your family. As they have instructed you to do.

Before you were sent off to the capital, you were relentlessly reminded that there will never again be an opportunity such as this. That a marriage to a royal prince is a rare honour for your family, and one that was only made possible because the crown finds itself at war. Your house is not a great one, and your father is not the noblest lord, but he is very wealthy. And on the field of battle, wealth does tend to triumph.

You do not know what other promises were made, what lands or titles were negotiated. Only that so much now depends on you; on your ability to please your husband and give him healthy children. Preferably male, but even a daughter would markedly strengthen your position. So you play your part as best as you can , and you pen your secret letters, divulging all the details of your intimate affairs. That the prince sleeps with you frequently, and seems to find great pleasure in it. That he performs his movements to completion, and expends his semen inside your body.

It is a grave responsibility to have on your shoulders, and you were utterly crushed when you woke to find your insides churning, and your sheets stained with blood.

They will be most displeased, your mother and father. Your brothers and uncles, and your cousins too. Prince Aemond's seed has not yet taken.

In the evening he knocks on your door. Two determined raps, and you are thoroughly surprised. Your maid will have told his mother of your ailment, and she will have told him, and he too must be disappointed. But you know it is the prince, for there is no one else who would visit you at this hour.

You know very well what he has come for, too.

“We can’t tonight,” you sigh.

“And why is that?” he says, amused, as if the idea that you would refuse him is ridiculous.

“My blood - I am bleeding.”

Prince Aemond hums, but he walks to your couch and begins to undress himself, unbuckling his doublet and unlacing his breeches, tugging off his boots while you wring your hands.

He can’t be serious. He can’t mean to take you like this.

“It’s not - it isn’t proper,” you protest. “Our maester said it is ill-advised - most men find it unclean - “

“I am not most men,” he scoffs.

There is no arguing against that, and he says it with all the confidence of someone who knows it to be true. Aemond is a royal prince. A dragonlord, a scion of a greater people. Second to no one but his king and brother, and if he wants to get himself all bloodied, then you suppose that is his right.

He rids himself of his undershirt, and you reluctantly move to the side to let him join you in bed. It isn’t proper, but your insides flutter when he pulls you against his naked body, letting you feel the warmth of his skin, his manhood against the back of your thigh. It is hard, and twitching when he runs his hands over your figure, your breasts and your stomach, your waist, your hips, the tops of your thighs -

“No, you mustn’t - ” you squeak, but he rucks your gown up anyway and slips his hand in between your legs.

You are wet there, with blood as well as with desire, and you can feel the stickiness when he spreads your lips, curving his fingers and sliding them back and forth along your slit. His breathing is hoarse just from caressing you, from feeling your wet, your warmth, your little swollen nub begging to be touched. You whimper when he circles it with the gentlest of strokes, light and teasing, until you arch your hips up in frustration and breathe oh please.

Prince Aemond likes it when you beg. Only then does he press down, but not enough to bring you to a peak. Just enough to make your insides tighten, and more blood gush from your womb.

You always did find it strangely beautiful, the blood of your cycle. Deep maroon, and scarlet red - but you are ashamed to see it coating the prince’s fingers when he withdraws them. It is thick, and clotted, and he takes a moment to study it before he wipes his hand clean on your shift.

“Are you not displeased with me?” you whisper. He should be, given that you have failed to conceive. That there is no way of knowing if you can bear children at all.

“One mere month is not cause for concern,” the prince says.

You breathe a faint sigh of relief. It is a comfort to know that at least your husband doesn’t hold your failure against you - yet.

He tugs on your shift, eager to expose your body, but you cross your hands over your chest.

“Let me keep it for tonight,” you plead.

You can’t rid yourself of the thought that you are unclean, and you would feel so much more at ease if he didn’t see your heavy, aching body. But you don’t want to entirely deny him access to it, either. Seeing as you are bleeding, the chances of begetting a child are small, which means that his wish to sleep with you must come from genuine desire rather than obligation. And that makes you very happy, as you imagine it would any wife.

You will make sure to include it in the next letter you send back home. Hopefully it will lessen their disappointment.

The prince looks somewhat displeased, but he lets you keep your dress, resorting instead to bunching it up around your waist. He is stern, but never cruel to you, even if he does pull at the neck to bare more of your breasts. He pinches your nipple, and then his hand moves downward again, and you throw your leg over his hip to give him more room to touch you.

This time he does it properly. His fingers find your pleasure right away, and he swiftly brings you to your rapture, impatient as he is to have you. It leaves his hand stained and tainted, and once again he wipes it off on your shift, but this time you don’t care.

With the position you’re in, it is easy for him to crawl over your leg and take his place between them, and he kisses you as he presses against you, deeply and hungrily, rocking his hips, his manhood throbbing and leaking between your legs.

Your parts are soaked, but he is careful when he pushes inside. Despite the prince’s relentless pursuit of knowledge, he must not know all that much about a woman’s blood, at least not in practical terms. Where it hurts, and how much, and whether this intrusion will make it worse. You can’t hold it against him - you don’t believe there are many scholars who would want to write about the topic, and how then was he supposed to learn?

“Harder,” you pant, and he obliges, moving faster and pushing deep inside.

You let him find a steady rhythm, hooking your legs over his hips, and letting your hands wander over his body while he has his way with you. You stroke his balls, imagining that what he keeps inside will take root in you. You pinch his nipples, all hard with pleasure, and you slide your hands down to his lower back, to the base of his spine, where the skin is dusted with downy hairs. Where you can feel each of his thrusts; the rolling movements of his hips, the rhythmic clenching of his buttocks.

Your dainty touch makes him shudder, and you move your hands to his arse, and then further still, slipping your fingers in between his buttocks. To where he is warm and tender, and where his skin starts to pucker.

It is filthy, the way he twitches there. The way he throbs. A dirty place to touch, and a sinful thing to do, but you have found that the prince likes it. No added pressure or attempts at entry, just gentle strokes with the tips of your fingers. Soft caresses over his opening.

He buries his face in your neck and groans, and you can feel that he is nearing his peak. His movements are fast and shallow, his chest heaving and slick with sweat.

“Yes, my prince,” you whisper. “Fill me with your seed, put a son inside me - “

He likes that. He hisses loudly, gripping the headboard for purchase, and you look up at him when his hips stutter. Prince Aemond’s face is always handsome, but never more than when he is on top of you, in the throes of ecstasy. His brow is furrowed and his eye squeezed shut, and the tension in his body makes the damaged side of his face convulse, his lip twitching up towards the scar.

He wouldn’t like for you to see that, but in this state he does not feel it happening.

You lie still as he peaks, allowing him to rut into you wildly, groaning and grunting as he spills his seed. Hot, and wet, and adding to the mess inside you. He lies limp on top of you to catch his breath, and when he finally withdraws, the blood is everywhere. On his softening organ, on his sack, and crusted to the soft hairs on his thighs.

“I’ve made you dirty,” you state.

“Yes, you have,” he says. “In more ways than one.”

You look the other way to give him some privacy when he rises to tidy and dress himself. On your wedding night he stayed with you until the morning, and he has done it a few times since, but it is not a common occurrence. Prince Aemond prefers to sleep alone, and your mother chastises you for that too. She says that to rouse a man’s desire is less than half the battle, and that you must make your husband love you.

Of course if it were really that simple, then there would be no unhappy marriages and no children born as bastards, and if you knew how to make a man fall in love, you would be the richest woman in all the world.

But you must at least try.

“Won’t you stay with me?” You ask. “It is - important, for a woman to be embraced - to be treated gently, afterwards…”

“Next time, I will,” he says. And that is the end of that, for you will not stoop so low as to beg for his company.

He smoothes out his shirt and pulls on his breeches, and you sit up and comb your fingers through your tangled hair. When you look down there are stains on your sheets, and a thick rosy fluid trickling out between your legs.

“You may want to abstain from riding,” the prince says over his shoulder. “It is known to upset the balance of the womb.”

You nod, bound to obey what is clearly a command posing as a suggestion.

“Did you know,” you muse, “that the blood of the womb is the only blood that is not born from violence?”

Prince Aemond looks at you with a thoughtful expression, one that suggests he had in fact not considered that before.

“Quite the philosopher you are,” he remarks, with a little raise of his brow. Coming from him, that is the highest praise.

It does not change his mind about staying, but he does press a noble kiss to your temple before he leaves you. Sore and bloodied, but content.

You did well tonight.

Notes

“Most men find it unclean/I am not most men” is from S1E7 of the Borgias.

“Menstruation is the only blood that is not born from violence and yet it’s the one that disgusts you the most” is a quote by artist Maia Schwartz. I couldn’t find any more information about her unfortunately.

Tags. @arcielee, @targaryen-madness.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic

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actually-safer-to-kiss · 11 months

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One Bloody Morning

Summary: Spencer has the first day off in months, and Reader wakes up to her period.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Comfort

Content warning: Descriptions of blood and menstruation, cramps, etc.

Word count: 1.3k

Spencer has been rummaging in the kitchen and bedroom for the past hour. He's prepared for your plans, taking advantage of every minute of his official day off. He discarded his phone in one of his coats last night and has yet to even look in the closet it's hanging in.

But none of that is the reason you're awake. You’re frozen in Spencer’s bed, your back facing him as he thinks you're in bliss. He doesn’t see how you’re in the most humiliating state. And you don’t know how to rush to the bathroom without being noticed. Without all of it being noticed.

You understand, even if you make it out of bed and hobble to the other side of the room and jump into the shower, evidence will still be left behind. Evidence that you’re a woman who bleeds, and that's the last thing you want to remind Spencer of.

“Hey, sleepy —”

The scream you let out is piercing but quick. As you spring up from the blankets, Spencer jumps back. You keep the covers over your waist. Hiding.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry.” He takes a hand that came out of the blankets. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You tell him. It’s not. The scare pushed more out, and it’s long stained your nightgown. It'll seep into his white sheets with the mess. And although you’re well aware fresh blood comes out easy with a cold wash and an extra cycle, the tears start to cloud as your cramps pound at you like an angry neighbor at the door.

“Hey, hey,” Spencer cups your face and your tears fall as soon as his skin touches yours. “I should have been more careful. I genuinely thought you were still asleep and I wanted to wake you up myself."

“No.” Is all you can choke out. Your esophagus is thick with embarrassment. “No.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He crouches to meet your eyes. You can barely return the gesture. “I didn’t mean to.”

“No.” You remain present enough to catch a breath but try to keep others following so you can hopefully say something else in a convenient amount of time

Spencer, however, given his limited knowledge, does not know what to do except the thing he usually does when you’re in this state; he hugs you. Tight.

And that is, of course, the one thing that doesn’t help. The feeling of your organs pressed against his chest is torturous as he tries to show you love, to show you how upset he feels about his actions. Because, thanks to your extensive vocabulary, he thinks he is the reason you’re acting this way. What else is he supposed to think?

You can’t take it anymore, and it pains you to push him away as you say “Stop.” The relief is slight but the shame only grows as you pull your legs out to rest your feet on the floor. You mentally prepare to reveal it all as well as stand. The sharpness in your lower back feels like Spencer was trying to hug you with his hands balled into fists and not calming flat palms.

Spencer follows you as you gather the strength to stand. The palms of your hands rub tears and leftover sleep from your eyes. But you still can’t look at Spencer. Instead, you gaze at the lamp on the nightstand next to you. Nothing is impressive about it, and you remember that as you push the blankets back.

Spencer says nothing.

You cup your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry.” And a sob breaks through.

Spencer is still quiet. And even though he never jumps to anger, you’re still afraid to look at him.

Nevertheless, you do, as the silence only becomes more deafening with the passing minutes (or what feels like minutes).

Rather than anger, Spencer’s eyebrows turn down as he looks at you. His lips parted before he asked. “Are you okay?”

As if your heightened emotions hadn't exposed you enough at the moment. Standing alone adds even more pressure to your back, and the stickiness between your thighs is something you don’t even want to acknowledge.

“That’s a dumb question.”

“No, n —” You avoid repeating yourself for the fifth time. “It just… came. I usually feel it when it’s on its way but this time it —”

Spencer’s hands caress your arms. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’ll throw them in the wash while we’re gone, okay? I know you’ve prepared the picnic stuff."

“It’s 9:22 in the morning and 84 degrees today. We’ve got time.” His hands rub your arms gently, creating slight warmth as he moves. “Now, what do you need?”

“A shower.”

“Okay.” His hands leave your side and he steps back. “Go ahead. I’ll handle this.”

“I can —”

“Ah.” He holds his palm up, causing you to pause. "Shower now.”

Spencer isn’t the type to adopt an authoritative voice with you, but you can’t admit you don’t dislike it. You note it, for future use obviously.

But for now, you try to walk (for the love of God, do not waddle) to the bathroom. The sounds of the sheet corners springing back to the center are all you hear before closing the door. You shimmy out of your delicate gown and let it drop on the tile. You don’t look down at the carnage; focus on the faucet. You lean over the tub and let it pour out water and steam, blessing your skin already.

When you step in, the clear water hitting your skin already fades into a pink shade. Bits of dark tissue follow the flow to the drain. A drop doesn’t touch your hair because cleanliness is all you need. The heat, although pricking your skin, soothes your back, nearly wiping out your pained muscles. It doesn’t even matter when steam takes up more air than oxygen.

“Yeah.” You reply. A few seconds pass, and you remember you didn’t grab a towel before stepping in. Lucky for you, Spencer has a small bathroom, so you lean over just far enough to open the door.

Spencer knocks on the door, and you can barely hear it. "Hun, are you doing okay?”

And of course, he’s standing there, rolled towel in hand. He even holds it up like a serving tray with his signature dorky smile and raised eyebrows. “Fresh from the dryer," he said. He hands it to you to cover yourself. And he gives you the discretion of not looking at your nightgown discarded on the floor. Instead, as you step out, wrapped in more warmth, he sits on the tub lip.

“Thank you.” You tell him and grin.

He smiles back as you walk to the mirror, brushing the steam with one hand. He watches your every move, admiring you for all you are, even in pain.

“You okay?” you still ask. There’s something, something else.

Spencer bites his lips closed for a moment. “How long were you awake?”

You shrugged. You look at him only through the mirror. “Maybe 20 minutes.”

"Hm." He glances down, at the nightgown between you both. “I wish you had told me.”

“It’s never not embarrassing, Spencer, no matter how many times it happens. For most women I know, at least.”

“Well, I mean,” he swallows. “I am a doctor, so.”

“A psychological kind, though.”

“Who also deals with dead bodies, blood, and other bodily fluids, common and uncommon, daily."

You don’t say anything. The horror stories he tells with enthusiasm from a scientific perspective (his words) prove his point enough.

“Honey, there’s nothing your body can make that can disgust me.”

“Even a baby?” You joke.

And he chuckled. Thank God, he didn’t want kids either. Not in his line of work. “It’s clear your birth control is effective at least.” He gets up and walks toward you, bridging the gap. Before his hands meet your waist, he looks at you in the mirror and waits. You nod, and he gently wraps his arms around you, his head pressed against your damp shoulder. “You can tell me anything.” He kisses the skin. “When you want me to help, let me know. Okay?”

Despite the awkward angle, you kiss him with relief, winding strands of his hair in with your fingers. “Okay.”

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ihateliterature · 1 year

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Ok guys, after a lot of reasearch I have compiled a comprehensive list of what trans men and mascs are NOT allowed to do so we don't offend anyone

Here it is:

Transition

Not transition

Date queer men

Date non-queer men

Date queer women

Date non-queer women

Be attracted to men

Be attracted to women

Be feminine

Be masculine

Date trans people

Speak in general

Breath anywhere near a woman

Do anything

Do nothing

Be helpless

Be in queer spaces where there are women

Be in queer spaces where there are men

Have a vagina anywhere near a cis gay man

Be attractive to a terf

Be unattractive to a terf

Have top surgery

Not have top surgery

Consume mlm content

Consume wlm content

Consume wlw content

Headcanon characters as trans men/mascs

Give male characters vaginas

Have colored hair

Having a name that's too common

Having a name that's too uncommon

Be capable of menstruation

Be capable of carrying a birthing a child

Need an abortion

Remove your capability for menstruation and birth

Willingly have a child

Be childfree

Realize you are trans before puberty

Realize you are trans during puberty

Realize you are trans as an adult

Have long hair

Have short hair

Not throw away every feminine coded thing you own as soon as you realize you are trans

Go through corrective rape at the hands of a man

Go through corrective rape at the hands of a woman

Be oppreased

Experience transphobia

Claim afab people who lived long ago and lived their entire lives as men could have actually been trans

Claim you have any history before Tumblr

Take T

Not take T

Pass perfectly

Not pass perfectly

Claim the transphobia you experience is in some way connected to your masculinity and gender identity as a man or man aligned

Try to coin a term for the specific prejudice you experience

Claim that something someone who is not a trans man or masc said about trans men and mascs is wrong and correcting them

Claim that you have been, in any way, treated badly for your masculinity

#trans guy #transgender #trans man #transmasc #transmasculine #trans humor #transandrophobia

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femmefatalevibe · 8 months

Text

Femme Fatale Guide: Pleasure-Centric Sex Ed. Facts Every Woman Should Know

Some basic sex education: Decentralized from men and heteronormative perceptions of sexual pleasure.

Important for everyone AFAB with any sexual orientation: heterosexual, bisexual, lesbian, asexual, trans, non-binary, etc. Here are some ways to reclaim your sexuality from the patriarchy and heteronormative gaze.

Understand your anatomy, seriously. The clitoris is the female sex organ responsible for pleasure, not the vagina. While you may think of the bean as an isolated love button, it is actually anatomically analogous to an inverted penis and extends internally through the inside of your vaginal wall and the inner lips of your vulva. If you want to more aptly gauge your state of physical arousal, evaluate for hardness in addition to wetness (yes, it looks like a mini boner, lol).

All female (genital-induced) orgasms are clitoral orgasms. Whether they're external, internal, or both. Like its male anatomical equivalent, every clitoris has its own unique shape and size, which can be best stimulated in different ways externally and internally depending on your personal anatomy. Common pleasure zones include the external head "the clit," the "G-spot" (around 2-3 inches deep on the front of the vaginal wall), the "A-spot" (around 4-6 inches deep on the front of the vaginal wall), and anal region (stimulates clitoral legs for some AFABs).

Remember your brain is one of the most important sex organs. Sex is as (or more) mental as it is physical. According to Dr. Emily Nagoski, it is more common for AFABs to have a responsive desire style (aroused by their external environment/erotic cues that stimulate the 5 senses) versus a spontaneous desire style ("heat of the moment" sexual desire that requires minimal foreplay/build-up for pleasure and gratification).

The cervix height and density changes (and can affect how you experience sexual pleasure) throughout your cycle. If a certain position hurts sometimes and is pleasurable at others – whether alone or partnered, know this is normal. Your cervix tends to sit lower with a firmer texture from the end of your cycle and progressively raises/gets softer (thanks to rising estrogen levels) until it reaches its peak height & softness around ovulation. The cervix opens slightly during ovulation and right before/during menstruation (haven't seen a study researching the correlation between cervix opening and higher libido, but I would love to see one on this due to the correlation here for so many women). Learn what positions and techniques are most enjoyable for you during different times of the month (consider this practice as cycle syncing for your sex life).

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ladyelissarose · 8 months

Text

———————— 🚬

“Get on the ground you cunt!- I don’t care if you twisted your wrist that’s your problem later but your training comes first!!”

You winced in pain as your wrist madly throbbed, while you got down on all fours to bear crawl across the desert field with a rucksack holding 100lbs. The commander screaming at you was from a different base, but he had crashed here for the time being, and became your worst nightmare when he chose to train you during his stay.

Price agreed to it believing he was a good man, he had heard some good things about him, that he was very well disciplined and held high standards for everyone. So he thought that it would be good for you- not that you needed it, you were one of his best Sergeants, but an important mission was coming up, and he wanted you to be extra prepared.

But little did Price know, was that the commander was one of those men that hated women in the work field, believing they weren’t capable enough to lead such strong forces, he only saw them as cooks, cleaners, bedwarmers, and breeding machines. So when he saw you, a woman, holding a good rank and part of a good team, he made it his mission to break you to the point you got out.

But you were better than that, and it took very much to partially dent you, for under your soft smiles and gentle, kind acts towards others both great and small, a killing machine you were in disguise.

You held a grand amount of kills under your belt, and successful missions as well that you had led first hand. But your superior could care less, he hated your guts and wanted to be the one to take you down and hold all your titles in his hands.

For the past weeks no one had known what kind of hell he put you through, for he made you train in the hot sun, far away from base, and out on the field, saying he needed to toughen you up like a man- since you wanted to work in a place of a man.

Price would’ve been aware of your terrible treatment and absence as of lately, but that upcoming mission has him on loads of paperwork and preparation for his team.

That was until he was ready to gather his crew together to open up about the mission he had planned out once he got through with it.

The first he always sought out was you, as you were his youngest and most helpful in finding the rest for him. (Sometimes Ghost would lurk in the shadows and Soap and Gaz would hide off to play pranks on new recruits, and you happened to know every spot.)

Much to his dismay and after 3 hours of searching, he had finally found Ghost cleaning his weapons in the darkest corner of the barracks, Soap re-loading his bb gun like a desperate child as Gaz laid on his side with an agonizing face, holding his crotch- but.. he didn’t find you.

He let Ghost take place for the meanwhile to scold the boys as he insisted on finding you, maybe you were going through a rough time and didn’t want to show face, or were probably menstruating- he didn’t know, but either way he wanted to help where he could and pull you up and out.

He looked in every nook and cranny, corner and closet, even knocked on your door and entered politely, only to find it empty, also checked the showers and restrooms, walked backed into his office thinking he’d find you stealing from his stash of candy- yet no sight of you.

Lastly he stood outside, drained and concerned, with a hand on his hip as he let out a few puffs of air from his cigarette.

“Where are you bunny? Hmph..”

He cared for you deeply, and not being able to find you had his stomach churning with worry. He had started to panic a bit, worst thoughts of a kidnap situation or worse coming into his mind, but no.. that couldn’t happen, he had the best team that wouldn’t dare let a stranger lay a hand on you, they had their eye on you too-

So he needed to calm down and let his mind wander into purer thoughts, and think calmly.

“-urry up!! Move your ass you excuse of a soldier!!”

Price whipped his head towards the thundering voice of a commander, his mind snapping out of his thoughts as the voice he heard sounded awful- meaning degrading and overall dictating. He poked his head around and couldn’t find the source, until he heard a whimper,

“Ah! I can’t- Agh!!”

“THERE IT IS!!! You can’t do it!! Now how hard is it to admit it!?”

Price’s jaw just about dropped, his cigar following suit as it hit the ground it utter shock and disgust. Not disgusted by you, but by the commander that hovered over you with a finger in your teary and red face, and his foot over your wrist, pressing down on it. This- this is what infuriated Price.

“Oh shows over.”

Stomping angrily towards the commander Price didn’t let a second pass as he barked authoritatively,

“Commander, step away from the Sergeant now!!”

Jumping back like if he saw a ghost, the Commander stuttered as he saw the anger seeping out of Price’s ears,

“J-John-“

“It’s Captain to you- Sergeant, go. In my office.”

The tone Price used was deep and full of rage, his accent coming out thicker than ever. It shook you up a bit, but made you get on your feet in lightning speed, and run to his office without questions asked or daring to look back. You weren’t too sure exactly who he was angry at, but you hoped it wouldn’t be you as you were mentally distraught and exhausted- as well as physically drained and in pain.

“Now who the fuck do you think you are? Eh?”

Price was ready to rip a new one into this asshole, and more was coming as the commander scoffed, trying to play it off,

“Oh- come on. Just giving her extra training, can’t have a dainty woman on the field you know? At some point she will suffer.”

He had let out a dry chuckle, attempting to let his obnoxious behavior slide, but Price only growled,

“You’re not even half the soldier she is... The Sergeant is more of a man than you.”

The commander tsked in disbelief,

“You don’t mean that, we both know the Sergeant doesn’t belong here, she never will.”

Price would’ve killed the man instantly, choked him, stabbed, shot- just murder him for being so hateful and degrading.

But as a Captain, leading to be the best example for his team, he’d be the better man and person, to reply instead with a stern yet calm voice,

“You’ll be out of my face and off my base by the next hour, if not you’ll have Ghost leading you out and he isn’t nice. Don’t make me ask twice, it’s an order.”

Without sparing garbage another glance, Price turned around and spoke into his radio and informed Ghost,

“Ghost I have the commander that needs to be off my unit immediately. If he’s not gone in the next 20 minutes.. you have my permission to do as you please with him until he’s off of it. Am I clear?”

Ghost replied in an instant,

“Affirmative. I also found the Sergeant, though she said you ordered her to your office?”

Price nodded,

“I did, I found her out in the fields with the arsehole, so I sent her in. Deal with him before I do.”

“Will do Price. Don’t worry.”

Price was walking towards his office, trying to calm himself down so he could be present and calm for you, it was a tad hard to do as this piece of trash took it too far with you. Although it was the next sound he heard that turned his anger down completely and raised the new emotion- sympathy and guilt.

He could hear your soft sniffles and muffled groans from behind his office door, it made him upset with himself that he hadn’t found you sooner, or sought for you after your first absence or shift in behavior.

He’d do anything to take it all back, but now he must focus on the present, and help you out where you’d let him. He had to come to understand that you might reject his help after he let you be under the hands of such an evil dictator.

Upon opening the door your cries had stopped, and pleas came out instead as he made appearance in front of you,

“Captain please! I can explain-“

“Sit back down Sergeant.”

He didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but the pain in your face had him worried you were straining yourself more by standing up. But you had immediately listened to him, and took your seat with your head hung low, and your hand nursing your wrist, hiding the swelling and bruising.

Price could see how drenched you were in sweat, the bruising on your fingers and wrist, he couldn’t imagine what more damage was done to you on the inside.

Kneeling to the ground in front of you Price placed his hand on your knee, and began to speak kindly,

“You are kind, you are smart, and you’re a very very, beautiful and strong woman, dove-“

You frowned while the tears grew rapidly, refusing to look at him,

“No-“

He raised a finger against your lips as he refused to hear otherwise,

“Yes. Yes you are. A strong soldier as well, with impeccable service and talent to take on a mission and bring everyone home safe. You have a heart of gold, but with a mind of steel... and both are greatly admired by me. You know that?”

Tears finally streamed down your cheeks as you sniffled,

“But he-“

He grabbed onto your hands that were still clenched on your lap as he insisted,

“Who do you trust? Hm? His words or mine?”

Oh of course you trusted Price, he was your Captain and secretly you admired him, he was your greatest competition and everyday you worked hard to be like him, a fearless and mighty leader.

But the harsh words you’ve been hearing go on repeat like a broken record had your heart wanting to doubt it, so much of it almost had you believing it was true.

“I want to believe you Captain but-“

“But you will. Trust me darling. And forgive me for letting him be with you, I should’ve kept an eye on ya regardless... you’re my soldier.”

‘You’re my soldier.’

You could see deep regret in your Captain’s eyes, you knew this wasn’t his fault as he had thought the Commander was a better man, but now he knows the truth.

“I forgive you Captain... I do.”

A smile that crinkled his eyes showed on his face, sympathetically he squeezed your knee and placed a warm kiss on your forehead,

“Thank you darling.. now let me wrap your wrist up for you ok?”

Handing him your wrist carefully you trusted him,

“Please do, it really hurts.”

You let out a little whimper when he held it, it pinched his heart but it made him want to work on it quicker so the pain would go away sooner. He sighed as he started, after his kissed the darkest bruise on it,

“I know, what a bastard... he’s gone now by the way, he’s never coming back here- and if he does Ghost will take care of him ok?”

Relief washed over you at the thought of this man never being in your sights again.

“Oh! That’s good... that’s good.”

It didn’t take long before the Captain was done putting a special cream on it and wrapping it up tightly, smiling proud at his accomplishment.

“There ya go darling... it’s all wrapped up for ya.”

After expecting it you became satisfied with how the cream was beginning to numb the pain,

“Looks good as new Cap-“

“Ahh Sergeant don’t kid yourself-“

“No it is! It’s got the Captain’s touch to it.”

Price knew you were trying to make the two of you feel better, so he went along and pat your head gently,

“It sure does, no one can say they have it.”

Nodding along you smiled, happy you were in the safety and comfort of your Captain’s presence.

“Nope. No one can but me.”

Now you’re walking out of the office with Price by your side, his hand on your shoulder while he guided you to the debrief room. You felt invincible because you were protected by the best Captain and man you knew, no matter what happened and how long.. Price always came back around, he had your back.

#price mw2 #captain price #captain price x you #captain price x reader #john price x reader #john price x y/n #john price fluff #captain price fluff #cod price #price cod #call of duty #call of duty price #cod #john price #captain john price

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angsthology · 1 month

Text

“i don’t have a problem!” — or an alt title: roo definitely “doesn’t” have a problem

just a little predicament

a/n ended up not liking this much

THE KANGAROO(KIE) VS. THE WORLD

in truth, like every memory she has, it was all a blur.

(should she get her brain checked? maybe. but that’s a conversation for later—if she remembers.)

one moment she was walking innocently with her little snoopy water bottle (that once had am alfa romeo logo on it but fred eventually gave up on trying to remove the stickers she had put over it) on her right hand and her phone on her left; deathly focus on the game on her screen.

next, she was shoved—gently but firmly, surprisingly—onto a chair in a dark room. now only one light turned on above her eyes making her squint. wait —are her hands tied?

then a scold came from the dark, but she doesn’t think it was exactly directed at her.

“what—no! what’s wrong with you? you’ll hurt her eyes! turn on all the lights properly.”

…george?

the lights then turned on properly.

woah. so crowded.

she scrunched her brows together in confusion.

“what’s going on?” she asked a bit quietly.

“we need to talk—” the brit started.

“you have a problem!” a french accent interrupted.

“—mate!” he scolded the alphatauri driver.

said man shrugged, “i am not wasting any more time on this, she needs to know.”

“know what?” she asked.

“here’s the thing kid—”

“we need to talk about your… m problem.” the french whispered the last part.

m problem? she was so confused, she said the first thing that came to her mind, “menstruation?”

suddenly all the men in the room frantically answered together in a strings of ‘no’s and defenses saying it has nothing to do with that m.

“okay so… what?” she paused, “and where is nando?”

the monégasque in the back with his arms crossed scrunches his brows, “what’s he got to do with this?” he whispers mostly to himself.

“nando is getting taken care of.” george answered shortly.

“YOU’RE KILLING HIM?”

he shook back, “what– no! he’s fine! —well…”

“GEORGE.”

“he’s with lando!” he raised his hands in defense quickly.

“THAT’S WORSE!” she cried.

in response, the monégasque in the back couldn’t help but snort.

“russell! we are getting off-topic.” complained the french driver.

said man cleared his throat, “right. thank you, pierre.”

“you can thank me by speeding this up.”

george ignores him, eyes back on the girl on the chair looking up at him with clueless eyes.

“you have a mahjong problem.”

she scrunches her brows, “what—problem? i don’t have a problem.”

“yes you do.”

“name one time—”

suddenly a new voice emerged from the side, “okay! grid picture, three weeks ago.”

“alex?”

“that’s me alright! —yeah, remember when you tried to remove me.”

she scoffed, she was about to say something but he beat her to it.

everyone was getting called one by one to be placed in their spots in the frame when the two williams driver stood on opposite ends of the line as they were to wait for more instructions from the photographer when suddenly the—not yet called for—alfa romeo driver walks over to nicholas and without uttering a word, pushed him out of the lineup—he could’ve been offended, but truth be told he was far too busy being confused—then proceeded to move to the other side of the line towards his teammate.

the photographer, previously focused on his work, took a step back when he saw the woman running around just to see what was happening.

the girl—like she had done with latifi—pushed the thai driver out of the line up and steps back to see the full picture.

“mahjong match…” she mumbled under her breath.

“oh, please, you’re just bringin’ stuff up. latifi’s over it!” she raised her hand to point towards the canadian driver.

the attention moved to said driver, he lift both his hands in surrender, “jury’s still out.”

they all then turn back to her accusingly.

then, carlos—completely spawned in out of nowhere—opens his mouth, “i mean; i don’t think you have a problem, cariño—”

“butt out, kiss ass.” alex glared at the spaniard, resulting in the latter to throw his hands up in surrender.

roo rolled her eyes, “whatever! it was just that one time, doesn’t make it a problem!” she defended.

only, her defense was cut by a too-familiar voice. “oh, it’s already a problem.”

her eyes almost popped out of their sockets at the person who showed.

“NIKA?! you’re part of this?” she exclaimed.

said girl uncrossed her arms and walked over to her friend tied to the chair.

she rolls her eyes, “when it involves my stuff, yes i’m a part of it.”

at that, the driver on the chair blinks. she inhaled as if she was about to say something but stopped herself short, closing her mouth shut again. she blinks again, eyes then looking around as if to find something.

“…right.” she looks up at her friend.

she nodded with pursed lips, “yeah.”

nika was calmly scrolling through twitter on her laptop with the glee soundtrack playing in the background when she was—harshly, rudely interrupted with a person slamming the door open into her room.

she screamed, closing her laptop shut and throwing away.

—okay, but it wasn’t like she was looking at anything bad… she was just embarrassed (for some reason) and panicked.

“can i borrow your keyboard thanks.”

the girl didn’t spare a second or wait for an answer from her friend before sitting down on her organized desk right besides her friend’s bed where her the white and pink bluetooth keyboard was placed.

when she finally recovered from the shock, nika whipped to the side and glared at her racer friend (that was in her own world).

“pineapples!” she scolded—eyes widening when she sees her removing both of her shift keys from each side, “what the hell are you doing?!”

at that, the girl did a double take at her friend before stopping. “oh, hi nika.”

she then looked back towards the keyboard in front of her then to the two keys in her hand to the missing ones on the keyboard.

It was still quiet besides the music in the background, nika still looked at her friend a bit angrily but also mostly confused and waiting for an answer or anything from her while roo herself was practically spacing out.

she didn’t re-address it, instead look towards her friend, “what do you think of having filipino food for dinner?”

nika clicked her tongue at the slide of topics, eyes blinking back in somewhat surrender, “uh, sure.” she shrugged.

With that, the driver replied an audible ‘okay’ before getting up and leaving.

“wait! but my key— oh whatever.” nika tried before giving up and dropping back to her bed.

“ohh…” the alfa romeo driver nodded in realization.

at that, nika jutted her chin forward with an ‘you are unbelievable’ expression. “yeah! ‘oh’, bitch.” she barked.

george then swoops in grabbing the younger girl by her shoulders from the back and gently pulling her away muttering; “alright you’re too close to this.” before handing her over to a slightly cautious charles.

then pierre got her attention, “you have a problem.” he stressed, again.

“oh hoot, what’s your problem why so personal?” roo barked back at the french. “are you still pissed at me from that lake trip?”

“no!” he answered a little too quickly and too aggressively for it to actually be a no.

george quickly swooped in—again—and shooed pierre away before a cat fight could start between the two. “can we wrap this up? i have people who are looking for me.”

“cops?” alex remarked.

“the fbi?” roo chimed in.

they both giggled together at their own jabs.

the target, on the other hand, wasn’t impressed. “i hope you both dnf next race. —whatever! i don’t know why i’m fighting two degenerates like you about this. back to you,” he turned to the girl, “as your punishment for you horrendous behavior–”

“i’m sure i wasn’t that bad…”

“—mahjong or not, you’re a menace.” george cut her back off. “you’ve lost your phone and any other gadget privileges for the next two weeks.” he finished.

her jaw dropped, “WHAT?!” she yelled.

“technology cleanse, it’ll be good for you.” he smiled, hand extending to pat her shoulder only to be caught off-guard by her face snapping to it trying to bite him, treating back his hand with a high-pitched scream escaping his lips.

he gave her one last glare before leaving the room with the rest following behind, charles being the last one to actually bid her goodbye.

then she was alone in the room tied to a chair.

—wait.

she was still tied to a chair.

“guys!” she immediately called out when she realized, “i’m still tied to this chair…” she tried. “…guys?”

later

the alfa romeo driver sighs once more, her face propped up on by her chin on both her hands. she was bored out of her mind.

“what’s wrong, kid?” her trainer popped out of nowhere.

she lifted her head to look at the man, “hey, mikey. nothing, just really bored. mother russell took away my phone.” she complained with an eye roll at the mention of the british driver.

“oh,” he the paused, opening his pockets to fish for something. a second later throwing something fairly small from it.

she didn’t exactly get a heads up but thanks to her racing driver reflexes, she caught it.

a lighter?

she looks up at the man again, one eyebrow raised in question.

“play with that.” he says casually with a smile before making his way elsewhere.

she was still confused but… sure.

lightning up the match, she stopped.

“woah.”

bonus

both men sighed again for the several time the last few minutes.

the older man was about to leave as lando re-checked his phone again to find no signs from the others that he should be done.

damn it.

“alright, kid, i think i’m goin—”

lando immediately scrambled to his feet to pull him back, “wait wait wait!” he grabbed the alpine driver by his shoulders and sat him back down in front of him.

he swore he heard a slight cry coming from fernando.

they just stared at each other for a few seconds—nando looking everywhere but at the mclaren driver in front of him while the latter blanks away to think of something.

when the spaniard looked his way, lando didn’t really know what happened but he was sure the deeper part of his brain came to the front defense for him.

he stared the older man dead in the eye and

“she’ll be coming ‘round the mountain…”

bonus²

not proofread | taglist; @treehouse-mouse @disneyprincemuke @yansbolobao @leilanixx @judespoision @vellicora @bborra @woozarts @yl90 crossed out means i cant tag u

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one x reader #formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x female reader #f1 smau #formula 1 smau #formula one smau #formula 1 x oc #tine’s roo vs the world #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x you #george russell x reader #alex albon x reader #pierre gasly x reader

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kierancaz · 9 months

Note

Replying to your request for prompts:

Could you write a super cute fic of Reader being on the quest with the other dwarves, and having extreme menstrual cramps, and the dwarves being overly gentle, kind, and worrying? maybe even thorin uncharacteristically gently rubbing her back as she curls up beneath her blanket?

The Company When You Have Cramps

warnings: female parts/female reader, menstruation, cramps, lmk if there's anything else !!

having woman parts sucked. and you were well aware of this when you set out on the journey to The Lonely Mountain with Thorin's company and prepared accordingly.

however, what you weren't prepared for, was cramps so bad they could rival the power of the gods (or so you thought).

you had carried on traveling for as long as could until the pain was quiet literally unbearable and you were ready to double over and just lay in the middle of the road.

at first you thought that the others would be mad or just tell you to suck it up and keep moving, but actually it was the exact opposite. they stopped and started setting up camp for the night and Oin even asked why you didn't speak up sooner seeing as you where in so much discomfort.

they didn't have any issues with you rolling out your bed mat and curling up like a ball with your blanket while they set up camp. you wished you help but you were in so much pain you didn't even think you could get up if you wanted to.

Bomber started cooking shortly after everything was set up and the fire was started. Oin had mixed together some herbs and it dulled the pain slightly but it wasn't much help, you were still in a lot of pain.

dwarves don't have a lot of women in their ranks, so imagine they take these struggles and the pain that women go though very seriously. they treat their women with the upmost respect and care.

as you laid there curled up with your head just barely peaking out from over your blanket Thorin came and squatted down in front of you. he has a sister, so I imagine he's pretty familiar with the struggles you're dealing with.

"how are you feeling?" he asks and after a moment you sit up properly next to him. "pretty shit actually."

he chuckles at your remark and hands you some warm soup, when you take it he moves his hand away to rub your back soothingly. the others are pretty preoccupied so they don't notice his sweet gesture, but you're very grateful for it.

Oin gives you more herbs after you eat and Ori joins you for a bit to talk and ask if you're alright. Fili and Kili also join you to joke around for a bit and try and get you to take your mind off the miserable state you were in. this actually works.

Bilbo also joins in on just talking with you when the others have to go do stuff like snuff out the fire or start their turn keeping watch. he brings you water and snacks/more food because food makes everything better. He is also the only one who thought to get something heated for you to put on your stomach.

he takes your water pack and as the fire is going down he places it close by and lets it heat up for a while, then he gives it you. he's very sad he doesn't have tea to offer you.

every once in a while someone will come up to you and ask if you're ok and if you need anything. just as everyone was getting ready for bed Thorin checks on you again and Oin gives you some herbs for sleep.

when you wake up you're convinced that whatever Oin gave you before you went to sleep wasn't just to ease pain and make you tired because you felt better than ever. you definitely had a spring in your step for the rest of the day.

the company was glad to see you feeling better and you helped them clean up and get back on the road. no one complained about having to stop and instead checked up on you throughout the journey to make sure you were still feeling ok.

anyway all of these guys are angles and I love them. they would def be worried and would tell you that if you're ever in pain from cramps or something again to let them know so they could stop for a bit and give you herbs.

(also if Gandalf was around when you were dealing with all that he def would've sat there with his pipe and let you smoke some of it. You know, just to keep you relaxed lol).

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blughxreader · 9 months

Note

Speaking of the A/B/O verse and how sexually charged it is...

How would the batfam deal with their omega sister going into heat?

This is under the assumption that the reader is the only omega in the pack.

I prefer the version of heats/ruts that are non-fatal and last a few days each month (instead of menstruation). (Or a week long heat every three months, whichever.)

Prescriptions are readily available for heats/ruts, so people can go years without having them. I think several members of the Batfam are on medicine to make life simpler.

Like, what if Gotham crime spiked during Batman's rut cycle because he disappeared for a few days each month? Gothamites on twitter would have a field day with this information lol.

@ btmnboobies tweeted: "batman horney leave starts on monday. if u jerk off all day then youll be fapping the same time as him"

@ ticklealphauwu tweeted: "batman is getting plowed time to rob a bank"

So, realistically, omega!reader would be on heat suppressants.

BUT IF, for drama's sake, there was no way to avoid a heat, then I can see two options:

1. They rigorously screen and import the best heat companions, then never repeat one. It's common for long-time heat partners to become attached, so you'll never see the same alpha twice.

Of course you'll get this talk: "tell them anything and they die. I programmed artificial intelligence to listen for key words, so I will know." and the alphas will be monitored for a minimum of five years afterwards.

Each member of the batfam would rather cut off a limb than have a stranger fuck you in their own home, but it's better than you being dead (or ruining your relationship by fucking you themself).

2. Or, Batman would go to the JL.

If a JL member has a darling who happens to be an alpha, then I can see Batman considering setting you two up.

Or he'd ask a favor of Clark or Diana.

Can you fucking imagine him asking for a meeting with Wonder Woman in private and it goes

Batman: Your world has similar genetics and rituals as ours. WW: Yes, in some ways. Batman: And casual partners during times of need are commonplace. WW: Quite... Batman, expression darkening: ... My daughter... WW, finally smiling: Oh, I see. You trust me. Batman, looking physically pained: Yes. Her first heat is at home coming and we are looking for long-term solutions. For the time being, would you mind... *grinds teeth*... assisting? WW: I would be honored. :)

Then Wonder Woman plows you all weekend

Damian would be torn between "hm yes a fine arrangement becoming of my cherished sister" and "NONONO YOU CAN'T GET MARRIED YOU HAVE TO LIVE WITH US FOREVER"

because DUH you'd want to lock her down. A golden opportunity to escape the batfam shows up in all her short skirt and big muscled glory.

Lol it's a silly thought but probably the only way you'd live a semi-normal life. Until WW turns out to be a crazy yandere too? 👀

#this was silly #yandere batfam #platonic yandere #platonic yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batman #yandere wonder woman

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