once-a-singlet-nevemore

[once-a-singlet-nevemore]

I can't believe there's now a genre of sex worker who straps up to masquerade as trans women??? Truly baffling

[once-a-singlet-nevemore]

little callie from A Beast at Bedtime

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[once-a-singlet-nevemore]

Exclusively referring to post-op trans women as bonus hole girls from now on

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this stupid cumbrained idiot doll keeps trying to get me to cum in its "jointpussy", it'll be all ahh~ uguuuh~ yyyou're gonna get my balljoints pregnaaant miiiissss, i don't know whether it's never heard of a pinch point or it's just trying to get me killed but either way i've HAD it

[once-a-singlet-nevemore]

I want you to imagine a girl, a girl who is a kind of cat. This is the story of that girl.

Also there's an intense metaphor about the way art is affecting but who cares. Cat.

On Domestication Of Masters Chapter 18

A Master/submissive willbreaking fic with dollification and maid play elements written by myself and @once-a-singlet-nevemore

Frida throws a ball around, catches a glimpse of a painting, demands a burrito, and finds out who the other affini that Ophidia was engaging in nefarious xeno plotting in her bedroom with was.

[once-a-singlet-nevemore]

I love this, this chapter is functionally a filled analysis of no exit by a woman with too many preconceptions, and it was honestly fascinating to write.

Convincing your brain to write in depth literary analysis wrong on purpose is weirdly difficult? Like, yes, I see that theme, we have to ignore it.

Anyway, read no exit and then read odom. It's great.

On Domestication Of Masters Chapter 17

A Master/submissive willbreaking fic with dollification and maid play elements written by myself and @once-a-singlet-nevemore

Frida glowers alone at home, enraged at Ophidia's attempts to comfort her, and reads No Exit by Sartre.

[once-a-singlet-nevemore]

Oh shit so I *do* write little sprout stuff. I teamed up with SlyPrincess and 4WheelSword to make a short little acekink fic, Unlearning <3 if you like tooth-rotting fluff and teacher complexes, maybe I could interest you in it?

M/M - M/F - F/F

[once-a-singlet-nevemore]

holy shit im so close to bottom surgery, im almost done with laser and i really really need to get started on the electro but i just lost my job cuz the immigrant owners of the toy shop thought having a tranny as the public facing employee was too much attention so im scrambling to get this done before its illegal, if you can help at all you would be changing my life for the better, if your can chip in anything my v.3nmjo is punkyrooster and my cashapp is the same, and literally anything will help me so much right now, please please please help me get bottom surgery before the end of this year 💜💜💜

[once-a-singlet-nevemore]

Simon Riley x Single Mom Reader, Part Six <3

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

"We'll be fine, love."

"Are you sure? I can reschedule. Should I reschedule?"

"Not necessary."

"Simon ..."

"Sweetheart."

You sigh and nod, picking up the diaper bag by the door. Emma is on your hip -- six months old now, and her neck is finally working right. You needed to take her in for a check-up at the doctor's, but Charlie was having a particularly energetic morning, so Simon stepped in and offered to watch him for you.

It's his first time babysitting one of the kids on his own, and part of him is confident. He can lead men into war, he can watch a rambunctious four-year-old.

Another part of him though, a quieter, more anxious part that he tries to push down, is just a little worried. Things are going so well, and he wants to keep proving to you that what you have is good. That it's worth keeping.

"All right, Charlie," he says, firmly but not coldly, once you and Emma leave the house. "We've got to hold down the fort, you and me. Got it?"

"Aye aye, captain," Charlie says, giving a salute.

Simon chuckles -- the boy knows he's in the army at this point, but obviously not the ins and outs of it all.

"Not a captain yet, and you're not one of my men anyway. Simon'll do just fine."

It's a fun afternoon, more fun than he'd imagined it would be. He and Charlie make a blanket fort in the living room (his first time, but it turns out all right), then they make s'mores in the microwave (also his first time, and it's a little bit of disaster).

It's fun, but it's difficult in a strange, painful sort of way. Simon never got to be a kid, and he's never been around children. Emma is sweet, absolutely adorable, but she doesn't talk yet. Charlie, though, has a way of speaking that's so innocent and honest in a way he's never experienced. He's sweet too, and he's very certain that he'd die for either of them, but there's a learning curve with him, one he's so desperate to master.

At the heart of it all, Simon just wants to be good for you. For all of you. And he'll keep trying until he is.

When you come home, Emma fussy after her shots, Charlie is on a sugar high, zipping in and out of the blanket fort. You laugh, happy to see your son happy, and Simon takes Emma so you can talk to him.

"Did you have a good time?" you ask, a gentle hand on his shoulder to keep him in place for a moment."'

"Yeah, we always have fun," Charlie answers, grinning.

You swipe a bit of melted marshmallow off the corner of his mouth, smiling back down at the boy.

"You're kind of a mess though, huh? Want to go ahead and take your bath?"

He pouts, looking up at you with big eyes, and tells you that he wants to play a little longer. When he glances at Simon, the message seems clear -- he wants to keep playing with him.

"Not going anywhere, Charlie," Simon says quietly. "Why don't you listen to your mum though and get cleaned up now?"

The child smiles at his reassurance, and nods. Simon nods back, Emma still whining in his arms, and before he can process it, Charlie is hugging his leg.

"Love you, Daddy," he says, and then he's off.

Simon freezes for a moment, then looks at you. You offer him a tight smile, but something's off, and he can't quite place it.

"Never asked him to call me that."

"No, I know," you say quickly, shaking your head. "Of course not. It's just ... I don't know, he might be kind of confused? You've been around so much more than his actual father, he's probably ..."

You trail off, biting your lip, and he steps closer to you, the baby resting against his chest.

"What's got you so upset?" he asks softly. He wants to make it better, but he needs to know how.

"I just don't want you to think that I'm pushing it on him, I guess?" you answer, glancing up at him before looking back down. "I don't want to force that role on you at all. I know it's a lot."

He considers his words carefully, knowing how important they are, and finally he admits, "It is a lot."

Your head jerks up to look at him, and there's almost a fearful look in your eyes. With his free hand, he strokes your cheek lightly, keeping your eyes on him.

"But I wouldn't trade it for anything. You hear me? Being here with you, with them, it's ... more than I could have ever asked for. Much more than I deserve."

You let out a small, nervous breath. You're so expressive, and he's always so thankful for it, because in your eyes, he can see how much this matters to you. How you want to do all of this right, even if you're not exactly sure how to go about it.

Finally, you speak again, telling him, "I don't want you to feel like you need to be that though, you know? Be their dad. It's been, what, almost five months? Simon, that's ..."

"I'll be whatever you need, love. Always. I can promise you that."

And he means it, easily. He doesn't need the kids to call him dad, or a big conversation about his exact role in the family. What he needs, from now on, is to be able to take care of you, all three of you. Whatever that looks like, however it plays out, he's all in now.

He needs you to be all in too.

"Don't worry so much about me, all right?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not running away. I'm not leaving."

You laugh, a little broken, and say, "That's kind of a first for me."

His hand, still on your cheek, moves to the back of your neck, gently pulling you against him. He keeps Emma, who's settling now, tucked against one side of his chest and holds you against the other.

"I mean it. As long as you'll have me, I'm yours."

You look up at him, your arms going around his waist, smiling a little more genuinely now that he's got you like this.

"And what if I want to have you for a very long time?"

"Then that's exactly what you'll get."

PART SEVEN - PART EIGHT

[once-a-singlet-nevemore]

wan 2 hold onto dads arm nn tug on his sleeve n go dad!! dad dad dada!!

[once-a-singlet-nevemore]

I think I'm over saying that it's okay if people don't subscribe to the same base ethics and morals as me. Sure, there are circumstances that can remove choices, but if you have the option to live a kinder, more gentle life and you don't?

Well. I just might start to think your opinion doesn't mean shit.

[once-a-singlet-nevemore]

the biggest mistake people make is assuming that weird sex with women is about mommy issues and weird sex with men is about daddy issues. wrong. a woman can be your father too. #feminism

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helping mistress de-bloc by eating her battle jacket (sound of angry screaming witch in the background) yum! so helpful! ^_^

[once-a-singlet-nevemore]

“If you watched her bounce on my strap you would think twice about calling pillow princesses lazy” okay but do you still want the pillow princess if they’re too unable to move? Or do you only want pillow princesses if they’re able bodied?

[once-a-singlet-nevemore]

Wild doctors appointment yesterday where as part of investigating my chronic pain she asked me to demonstrate my strength???

The look on her face when she tested my grip strength was something to behold.

[once-a-singlet-nevemore]

Puppy bed essentials

- chew toy (to make sure they can still give love marks)

- ball (for stimulation)

- bowl (obviously)

- leash (so they can signal to you that it's time for walkies)

- gaming controller and charging cable (for more stimulation)

- sex toy (for even more stimulation)

- and a shirt you haven't washed/has your most used scent of deodorant (to calm themselves down when you're not around)