#YES i have a self indulgent goddess self insert in my friend's story

[fvaleraye]

Good ol’ Rosea Malificium, gettin’ a nice fresh coat of paint after nearly a year

[realmonsterboyhours]

Study Break

Incubus!Beej x Self Insert. Let me be self-indulgent this AU destroys me. CW: NSFW

With the most delicate movements, she slipped her comforter from herself, and with a soft thump, her sock-clad feet hit the soft area rug beneath her bed. Stretching upwards towards the entirety of her height, a small shiver took over her mostly nude form, stippling her skin with soft raised goosebumps. It was autumn now, her favorite season. Her love of the cold tended to cause her to have some curious habits, such as leaving her window ajar a few inches to allow for the nipping breeze to roll in and fill her bedroom with that all too delightful smell of fallen leaves.

Her skin was paler than normal, nearly spectral as she shifted into her winter shades of skin, pale freckles still dotted the points of her body, her dark hair tied up in a large but all too messy bun cresting the crown of her head. A shiver overcame her body, her soft pink nipples raised due to the cold permeating the silver metal bars that transversed them, the cold only compounded their upright position on her already rather full breasts.

She caught a small glimpse of herself in the mirror, she always walked around topless, but on select few nights, she felt like a goddess and would parade around the house proudly. Up until recently, it has not been much of an issue, it only ever became problematic after her rather handsy incubus friend Beetlejuice decided to take up some sort of residence in her apartment, to which this habit of hers was a bit more troublesome if you could call it that.

Yet here she was, standing in her full glory wearing only a pair of small black shorts, black thigh high stockings, and a small black leather collar. It was time for a break from her case studies and homework. She needed a break, she hadn’t really eaten for several hours now, though that wasn’t really out of the normal for her, even though Beetlejuice would adamantly protest to her periods of intermittent fasting, to which she would simply direct his gaze to her thigh with either a sensually prolonged graze, or a simple slap and tell him she had plenty to spare for now.

She had set some ground rules with the demon upon his arrival, one of which being that he wasn’t to disturb her unless absolutely needed when she was working on her schoolwork. It had worked for the most part, though on the off occasion she would find him slipping into her room to just watch her quietly. He had learned the hard way early on that she meant business about her studying when he had tried to grope her backside in a half-hearted attempt to feed, which quickly earned him a glare, and a small lecture. Something something ‘If you want to pay my tuition go for it’ something blah blah.

But now she headed out of her room and down the stairs of her loft-like apartment, making a quick trip to the kitchen. By now she should be used to the feeling of being watched, she never seemed to be truly alone in the confines of her own home, always feeling eyes on her, hungrily watching as she went about her business. The demon never typically hid from sight, he could usually be found lounging on her couch, watching TV or playing with her small tortoiseshell cat Monique. Such a strange little sassy creature.

So as she gathered up a box of cereal, a bowl, and spoon it didn’t surprise her that she felt his eyes, hearing the shift of the couch as he perked up at her presence. She took a mental note, his fixed gaze on her did not go unnoticed. “Well well, look you’re a sight for sore eyes snackcake.” She could feel his ogling trace along the curves of her body as she opened the fridge and pulled out a gallon of milk for her cereal. When she turned on her heel she noticed the incubus’ vision immediately drop to her chest, this didn’t really bother her much now, in fact, she welcomed the attention. 

There would be a certain spring of an emotional surge that sat heavy in her stomach with how his eyes would just drink her in. Something about the idea that an other-worldly creature would deem her attractive just struck a chord that played right into her lustful side. She did her best to keep her wits about her, though as an incubus she knew he could usually feel the charge of emotion, or maybe even notice a hormonal switch.

“Thank you kindly sir” she purred softly, her voice held a soft rasp from the cold air seeping into her lungs, something that was a tad different, but not unpleasant sounding. She too also knew how to drive the demon a bit mad, always treading that fine line, pushing his barriers. A subtle sort of brat energy.

It was not something that the demon found unwelcomed. In the past, he found many of his previous feeders to be rather dull, not willing to play his games back and submitted to him maybe a bit too easily. This one was different though. She was… Playful? Typically feeders would have problems with the way he talked to them or the way he would grab ahold of them. Not sensitive per se, incubus are demons of consent, after all, it had never been unwelcome touches, but none of the previous feeders have ever really talked back to him like she did, looked at him like she did. Like she was just as hungry as he was. It was like a breath of fresh air.

Yes, the very core of their contract was incredibly sexual, she ultimately was a food source for him, a symbiosis of sexual nature. Though recently he had found a much more deep appreciation for this feeder. It was a rarity that a human could keep up with his stamina as well as she did, he was able to take nearly his fill from her in one session, and she allowed him to feed often.

So when he noticed her skin standing erect as it was, something within him guided him closer to her. “Dollface, you realize it’s like, really cold in that room up there right?” His hand running up her arm from her elbow to her shoulder, trailing off just before reaching her neck. He loved how lax she was to his touch before his fingers even reached her neck her head dipped ever so slightly to rest in his hand, when it never came she looked up at him with those verdant eyes.

He felt like he had just committed a heinous crime by pulling away just shy of her touch when she had given him a look of disappointment so subtle and gone in a flash he almost questioned if it had been there in the first place. Though quickly after she gave him one of her toothy smiles, sweet, yet also so genuine. “Really? I hadn’t noticed, thank you for reminding me Beej” she teased. “I’m not too cold in my room honestly” she added after a scrutinizing look was placed over her frame by the demon.

He found his eyebrow cocking to form a doubtful, exasperated look, emoting to her that he was serious. He genuinely did care about this feeder. Whether he would mention that was an entirely different story.

She idly continued to assemble her snack without much more thought to his words. With an irked sigh, the demon quickly shrugged off his jacket, draping it over her chilled shoulders, holding her steadfast close to him by the lapels of his jacket, he made her face him, his face leaning down, his nose a hair's breadth away from brushing against her own. A subtle flush appeared on her cheeks, this did not go unnoticed.

“Babes, if you get hypothermia how am I supposed to eat?” He questioned in a half-serious tone. She averted her gaze as he released her, taking a step back to admire her frame within his jacket. He would be lying if he were to say she wasn’t actually a sight for his sore eyes. He was already attracted to her soft curves, her thick thighs, the plumpness of her backside, her full breasts. But in his stripes? This was a whole different ballpark.

Just when he thought he had gotten the upper hand over the woman, she leaned up to grasp his shirt, pulling him back flush with her body, she felt her chest pressing hard against his own, and the way she had taken him by surprise when his breath hitched in his throat. Her eyes made contact with his, her nose barely brushing against his own. Her lips placed so close when she spoke he would feel the silky drag of them sliding over his own lips.

“Why don’t you warm me up then-” She leaned over to one of the demon’s pointed ears, cooing gently into it with a purr “-Sir…”. This sent a bolt through Beetlejuice from the tips of his onyx horns to the tip of his tail, it was a weak spot of his was when she would call him that. She retracted just enough to gauge his reaction, a subtle bite of her sinfully full lips was all the encouragement he needed.

She honestly half expected him to teleport them to her room, their normal spot for this sort of event. However, the demon responded by pulling her into a fiery kiss. His lips surging towards hers with a sort of longing she had not expected. His tongue slipped across her lips, his pointed teeth would grab her lips with firm tugs. Soft noises of approval would seep from her mouth, as he kissed her like she was the only air to breathe.

She reached up, tangling her hands into his hair, her arms circling his shoulders as she pressed herself impossibly closer, a habit of hers he found absolutely charming. The idea that this breather wanted to be pressed against him completely always shocked him, but was always a pleasant feeling.

His hands found purchase on her hips, his thumbs kneading deeply into the soft tissue he found there, his own arousal becoming much more evident, and with a fleeting moment of clarity, he realized just how hungry she had made him. His hands slipped up the curvature of her ass, and buried beneath his coat, before sinking into the hem of her shorts, slipping them from her freely.

He paused only for a moment to take in the sight of her sumptuous body presented before him. She loved the vulnerable feeling she would experience prickling at the back of her neck when he would stare at her naked and exposed in front of him. He took in the sight ravenously as he pulled her back to him. “Tell me what you want from me, snackcake.” he groaned as she reached down tentatively rubbing her hand against the bulge forming behind the wall of fabric, eliciting a groan of approval from him.

“Please fuck me…” she breathed, feeling the power within her stomach rising as she brought this demon to shivering before her. “Feed as much as you like, Sir.” She gasped loudly as he scooped her up into his arms for a short while before the back of her thighs reached the cool granite of the island countertop behind her, a pleasant shiver rolled up her spine.

She made no fuss of parting her legs to make room for him to fill between them, exposing herself fully to him. He drank the sight in, tonight he feasts. Little more needed to be said as he dove his head fervently between her thighs, his long tongue making simple work of lapping up every drop of her excitement. She always tasted so much better when she was also yearning for him. He savored as much as he could, bringing rolling waves of pleasure, wracking her body with intense bliss.

She refused to hold her body up any longer, laying back fully displayed on the counter now, her hips would rock gently up to his proficient mouth, her arms stretched above her head, allowing him unhindered access to her body. It was one of those nights where he could do whatever he wanted with her, this sent a swell of excitement through his veins.

She rode out several orgasms from his mouth alone, her eyes began rolling back from the heightened stimulation. “B-beej, ngh ah! P-please. I c.. can’t wait anymore” She panted, her body covered in a sheen of sweat and ecstasy. A toothy grin appeared on his face once more as he stood up. “Fair enough dollface.” He purred lowly, standing once more, taking his position as her eager legs snaked their way around his waist. He deftly tossed one of her legs over his shoulder, his gaze fixed on her heat in front of him as he removed his throbbing member from his pants, and sank deep into her.

“F-fuck… You’re so warm” he let out a guttural groan as his cock hilted deep within her with a painfully slow speed, he felt every inch of her give way to him inside. His eyes looked over her body presented before him like a buffet of sinful snacks. He couldn’t help himself from leaning down, to bite her lip, his free hand massaging at her breast as he began to thrust in and out of her.

By now he knew exactly how she liked it, a slow, agonizing pace, that gradually built over time, and he was all too happy to offer it to her at this moment. Normally he had been one to simply to help himself to whatever he could get, but tonight felt different. It was different. Something had changed or shifted. They were so synchronized in their movements. Their hips rutting against each other ardently, her cries of pleasure sent jolts of excitement down his spine.

It was unlike him to pull her into him, their mouths meeting in a passionate set of kisses normally, but the way she felt was driving him absolutely mad. He felt her softly clenching around him, her walls shivering with the pleasure he was forcing into her. His hips milking another orgasm from her, his hair shifted to a soft pink at the tips, his body becoming more sensitive. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“One more baby, gimmie just... one more. I know you can do it.” He growled with a deep lusty rumble. His tail found its way to circle her clit, sending a wave of heat to her brain, his free hand tangled itself into her hair, prying at it gently as he tugged her head back to expose her neck. He littered it with kisses, his fangs grazing along the sensitive skin that was presented to him. She came completely undone, any semblance of composure was tossed aimlessly to the wind as she found her toes curling. She came, and she came hard, crying out his name one final time as he spilled into her, even dripping out though he was wrapped tightly inside her.

Panting, and disheveled, she rolled back onto the cool surface of the counter, doing whatever she could to catch her breath. Though the incubus was not nearly as worn through as she was, he was definitely catching his breath as he retracted from her slowly, leaving a huge mess in his wake.

“Fuck…” she said breathlessly before finally composing herself enough to sit up and admire the wreckage he had created. A warm heat took over her cheeks again when she noticed him watching her looking things over. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but something about the moment felt different, almost like time had stopped. “I-I should clean this up” she whimpered out before finally sliding from her counter to her feet once more.

She made quick work of cleaning her kitchen and herself to some degree. And after excusing herself to shower quickly, she returned to find him in her bedroom waiting for her once more. “Did you want to sleep in here tonight Beej?” she asked him curiously as she stripped down in front of him without a second thought. He watched her curiously, and with desire. “Yeah” he said simply, not sure how to articulate how he felt about it exactly. It was hard for him to express how he longed to feel the touch of her skin or being surrounded by her scent.

It wasn’t out of place for the two of them to curl up together and sleep, but the same peculiar feeling found its way to his gut yet again that nagged him. Tonight was different. He kept repeating in his head, she had felt it too, but had placed it as him just having a craving as he did from time to time.

She sank slowly into the bed, feeling the sheets soft against her freshly cleaned skin. She felt so safe with him near, it was a feeling she always appreciated as she burrowed into the crook of his neck, he was more than willing to pull her closer, gathering her into his arms, his legs intertwining with her own.

She felt the exhaustion crash into her like a tidal wave, and after some soft words of praise, and a few teasing quips she faded off to sleep, leaving Beetlejuice to admire the bruises and scrapes of varying degrees of healing that he had adorned her soft body with. He was so proud of his little feeder, and spend the next several hours stroking her hair behind her ear and kissing her head before replacing his lips with his chin.

[dcnativegal]

Compulsion & Identity

Ruminations of a Certified Alcohol & Drug Counselor--Intern

I’m sitting in one of the group therapy sessions with clients who have kept sober from a variety of substances for months or perhaps only days. They pee into a cup or suck on a saliva stick to prove their sobriety to me and their probation officers. They are biding their time and showing up and jumping through hoops that include community service, visits to Treatment Court, and paying off probation fines. Each one of them has harrowing stories. I have so much respect for them. Even when I know for sure they are flat out lying.

I’m trying to understand what it’s like, mentally, emotionally, and socially as they maneuver through their lives and all their important relationships as a sober person. We talk about it. One person admitted, I still don’t know who I am, sober.  I know I was funnier when I was high…

I’m learning all about “Substance use disorder” which is the newest term. (No longer abuse, and less use of the term ‘addiction.’) I have a stack of books with titles like “Buzzed” and “Uppers and Downers.” I remember from my early social work training that there is a stunting of brain maturation when a person starts using a substance regularly. Each of these people starting using as young teenagers. The growing human learns to navigate through life with the help of the mellowing effects of pot, the mania and energy of meth, the disinhibitions of alcohol. There are supremely stupid choices that are made under the influences.  They don’t know how to deal with frustration, with a broken heart, with the moments included under the umbrella: ‘shit happens.’

I don’t know anyone who deals with ‘shit happens’ perfectly.  Well, maybe the Dalai Lama, and the late great Maya Angelou.

My personal drugs of choice are carbs and yarn. Carbs may kill me in the end. I’ve developed pancreatitis, in large part because it’s a side effect of an injectable drug that worked well for me for a couple of years. The other part of why is, simply, gluttony. (Noun. Habitual greed or excess in eating. Ouch. Literally.) My side started hurting in December, and I self-diagnosed kidney stones, so upped the liquids. Didn’t get into see my family nurse practitioner until mid-January. NOT kidney stones but pancreatitis. What the…?  Clear liquids for me. Who knew that there are dozens of kinds of broth.  Although the pain did not disappear, it lessened, and the lipase and other lab values went down to normal when I stuck to liquids. When I eat solids again, the pain and labs worsen. So I’ve been off and on solid food for a while. Every one to two weeks, I give a couple of vials of blood and 3 hours later, my nurse scolds me. Kinda like peeing into a cup, or sucking a saliva test strip. Clean UA? Good labs? It depends on behavior.

Humbling.

A client ‘bangs’ (injects) meth. I indulge in a cookie, or three. Not equivalent, exactly. But pancreatitis is dangerous. Meth is, too.

When ‘shit happens’ to me, which includes simply a bad day, I realized some time ago that I have  a sense of entitlement, of somehow ‘deserving’ the special treat of new yarn, or a Peppermint Patty. Because…. Insert self justification here….  I can imagine that some of the same justification goes on in the mind of people who use meth or pot or beer compulsively.  “I’ve been good… It was a shitty day… Fuck you, bossy bitch, I’m going out… “  As I stand in the checkout line at Safeway, I’m like, I’m tired, just one Peppermint Patty won’t kill me…

Dark chocolate, ice cream, cookies. I’ve heard alcoholics say that if there’s alcohol in the house, it calls to them. Same for me with chocolate. Valerie hides it. At the moment, I think we are totally out. Which is good. (I found her stash. ‘Bye, ‘bye stash. I am a gluttonous theif.)  I’ve been keeping a pile of tiny chocolates in my office for my clients. I give up. They’re all gone now. I couldn’t resist them. I’ll put stress balls in the box that held the mini-snickers and Twix. The Twix were very popular. I was especially fond of the mini-Milky Ways with dark chocolate. Val discovered Russell Stover’s sugar free peppermint patties. Oh. My. God. They are now on the banned list, even though they are sugar free. Even after I start feeling sick, I can eat 10 at a sitting. Like the rat hitting the cocaine water until he dies.

I knew someone who had a compulsion to use pornography. The idea would take root and next thing, that person would be walking into a strip club. Feeling disgusted later, dirty and depressed, the urge would diminish for a while, until the next time. My basic feeling about this whole arena is: tip the sex worker very well and be respectful. But, the compulsion, if it harms relationships with real live humans outside the club, is a problem. Not to mention how porn distorts what men think women actually enjoy.

Cravings.

Chocolate or yarn doesn’t HAVE to be a problem, but for me it is. Everything in moderation, except for me with sugar or yarn. I can ignore a wine bottle. No interest in illegal drugs. But keep sugar away from me. And no more yarn… hm… until I hit the new Willows store in Christmas Valley again.  Seed planted, insert rationalization: I’m supporting an independent local business! (I think this is called ‘stinkin’ thinking’. )

What is your ‘self medication’ of choice, dear reader?

Weed, which seems to be the drug of choice for teens in Lake County is a mixed bag. Pun intended. It made me paranoid and more anxious than I already was when I used it in college. It’s legal in some states but federally illegal. The medical marijuana card is a great thing for those who need it. I’ve seen the videos with people who have Parkinson’s go from violent tremors to graceful movement. For young people, though, I’ve seen it among my kids’ friends, how all motivation seems to vanish. It is the slacker’s drug of choice. I have teenaged clients who are mandated to see me because of weed, and they pee into a cup. I want for them every ounce of motivation to get them out of poverty and do well in school, find a trade, make a better living than their parents.

Our group discussion gave me a chance to revisit my own struggles with identity, as well as my own compulsive behavior.  Perhaps there is a parallel between my deep discovery in my early 40s that I am really and truly gay and my clients’ growing familiarity with their sober selves. For me, it was 2003. My husband had given me permission to figure out whether or not I was gay, bi, whatever. He’d had a serious heart attack, and earnestly pointed out that life is short. What a gift. What insanity.  This journey led to the end of our marriage, which was a hard and painful process but also, to lives lived with authenticity. Thank goddess for therapists. The kids survived and thrived, and he has been with a lovely, gifted, hilarious and STRAIGHT woman for something like 10 years. I have been with the cowhand for nearly 6.

What made that part of my history relevant, perhaps, to the path of the newly sober, is that I had to regroup my identity. As my children’s father put it, I’d changed teams. Not only was I on a different team, that team had a culture, a lingo, a look and feel that was perceptible by something called ‘gaydar’ which I had the beginnings of but really needed to step up. I rented every classic lesbian movie I could find, and some of them were terrible, but all of them taught me something. As a feminine-appearing gay woman, I needed to learn about femmes and femme culture since I am so not a butch. I read Joan Nestle, founder of the Lesbian Herstory Archives, and the hilarious Leslea Newman who wrote, ‘Out of the Closet with Nothing to Wear’, and the classic, “Heather has two Mommies.” I watched lesbians, especially in lesbian spaces. I learned about my own body, my own range of gender expression.

I moved to the Oregon Outback to be with my sweetie full time instead of half the year, and out here, I miss gay space (like a gay bar, community center, or Pride event), other gay people, any tiny glimpse of a gender bending queer sensibility.

We all feel this way, in each of our identities. Jewish people feel more comfortable when surrounded by other Jews. Women feel relaxed when there are no men present, and vice versa. Alcoholics can avoid the stigma when they are with other alcoholics. Ranchers enjoy the company of other ranchers.

Just this past week I met, FINALLY, another gay person who lives in Lake County. This person is married, and so now I know there are FOUR GAY PEOPLE IN LAKE COUNTY.  We’ll have a tiny gay pride parade in our living room come June, with a very large rainbow flag.

For my newly sober clients, it’s an adventure to learn who they are with their families, with their wives or husbands or girlfriends or boyfriends, with their employers, at their church. To say to their children, “yes, I have messed up, and I’m getting it together. No need to be sarcastic with me. I am still your parent.” They seek out the company of others in recovery to survive. There are several twelve step meetings in the county, thank goodness.  Since all of my clients started using in their early teens, there is a lot of growing up to do, all the while they have very real and heavy adult responsibility. It’s a lot to manage, in a punitive and financially strapped environment.  

For the sober, a hot bath has to take the place of a beer, or a bowl. All of those strong emotions cannot be mediated by a substance. Frustration? Anger? Sadness? How does one deal with those without an upper or a downer?  And if I have a rough day, I do not have to buy a Peppermint Patty.

I seek to relate to them and their stories, even while I immerse myself in online courses about substance use disorder. It’s a bit narcissistic, I know, to search for my own parallel struggle to humanize theirs. But as Anne Lamott once so wisely said, I am the turd around which the world revolves.

On New Year’s Eve, I went to Soul Collage at Toni’s house in Paisley, and made a New Year’s mandala (which I shared a picture of, two posts ago.)  In the center is a primate surrounded by bananas, and around the primate were examples of embodiment, words of encouragement, and healthy foods. It was shortly into 2017 that I was diagnosed with pancreatitis. I am now FORCED by my side pain and bad labs to get my eating act together, out of the realm of gluttony. Be careful what you wish for.

I went to Soul Collage again recently, and created two cards to help me tell the story of my clients, and also my own story. They depict the journey from serious faces to happy faces, with stops at

·        Know thine enemy and maybe befriend them, (the man and the skunk, the user and the dealer, the lesbian and the Trumpette)

·        Find your people and cuddle up to them to rest (like a pile of kittens)

·        Be creative in all things, with colored pencils or your new sense of who you can be now

·        Get used to feeling your feelings including the negative ones. They will not kill you. Smoking or ‘banging’ them away is procrastination. So are Peppermint Patties.

·        Do the work. No way to short cut the work. Carry the water that needs carrying and don’t be a whiney child about it. I know it’s a bitch to be a grownup and exercise self-control when other people are allowed to be such pains in the asses!!! Remember: sometimes, I AM THAT BITCH.

·        Allow time for joy, for running free, for deeply enjoying pleasure that doesn’t carry guilt. Find that joy if it’s new to you, the guilt-free kind! (Salad? Sigh. Knitting with the yarn I already own? YES.)

·        Make a home within yourself if not in the outside world. Make that home cozy and full of love. Beautiful and familiar. Full of life and healing. (I’m ALWAYS working at this, the finding and maintenance of home…)

The journey to sobriety, to a whole and generous life, is not a straight line, more like a circle or a spiral, hopefully forward. All the same, as Proust said,

The real voyage of discovery consists in not seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.