#gyn control

[republicanidiots]

[unknown-limes]

When I attempted to get my Nexplanon implant the first time, they scheduled my appointment for a week when the only person there certified to put it in was on vacation. They did not tell me that she wasn't there until I was in the appointment, and then they tried to push the IUD on me. I walked out with a Depo shot instead (and that sucked for different reasons) n got my implant three months later. Turns out it works really well for me, gets rid of my period (which caused some dysphoria for me so bonus) and helps control my mood swings. Who'd've thunk!

[bellia-25]

Guess this is a little bit of a life update, my periods have been bad since I started getting them. Parents never took me to a doctor to get it checked out, I have always been worried about the cost as an adult. It finally ended up bad enough that I ended up in the ER two days ago. They did an ultrasound and it turns out that I have pcos. Which was a relief to finally have an answer about why I was in so much pain and not be ignored.

[templeofshame]

the doc on an app prescribing me birth control asked significantly more of the things i think my gyn should have asked so that’s good i guess? although idk i think maybe they should ask what they actually mean. it all seems very heteronormative and weird

[merakiui]

the birds and the bees.

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

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

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

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

“Ah, (Name), you’re early.”

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

“I couldn’t agree more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m studying to be an ob-gyn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In other words, a scent you associate with misery.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So stiff…

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

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

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

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

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

“W-What’re you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?! But you—”

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

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

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

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

“Sounds about right.”

“And you’re so experienced?”

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

“I’m not a mama’s boy!”

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

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

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

“I… I would never! Safe sex is—”

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

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

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

“R-Review? You don’t mean—”

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

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

“You can call them what they are.”

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

“You know the word, mama’s boy.”

He flusters. “Yes, I’m aware. But…”

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

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

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

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

“Mhm. Good job.”

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

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

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

“And this?”

“Your vagina. It’s where—”

“What’s the other word?”

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

“So what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I… M-May I call it your flower?”

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

“Even a rose?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riddle watches, hopelessly spellbound. “The clitoris.”

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

“Really?”

“Really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t trying to.”

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

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

“Desperately?”

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

“I haven’t asked for that yet.”

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

“A shame.”

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

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

“Okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lying’ll do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Not bad. You’re getting there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

“I… I’d like to get to know you.”

“Me?”

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

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

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

“Uh… Yeah… Okay.”

“You don’t believe me?”

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

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

“You know which one.”

“You could be the one to close it.”

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

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

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

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

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

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

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

“Oh…”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“I have a name, you know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, not that. Outside of this.”

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

“I…do.”

“So spend time with them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Riddle.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— — —

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

“Pardon my intrusion.”

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

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

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

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

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

If only she knew.

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

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

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

“Yes, Mother.”

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

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

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

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

— — —

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

A tiny smile tugs at his lips.

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

And you’re just perfect.

[unadulteratedragon]

.

[hadesoftheladies]

sure you need to exercise and sleep and eat well. but gyns, you really, really, really need to de-stress as much as possible. if that means deleting your social media, or regulating/restricting it severely, or cutting off idk how many other toxic relationships you need to get on that. you need to find or build a healthy community. that is an integral part of your health.

it is toxic to your body to be bombarded by horrifying news each morning you log onto your phone. it is toxic to your body to be in constant hypervigilance. it is toxic to your body to be hyper-aware of all the awful things that are happening or could happen. your brain should not be in constant hypervigilance.

if you want to do activism, it needs to become less reactive and more strategic. meaning, no replying to ugly comments. read a feminist book instead, donate to feminist organizations instead. you don't have to stay in radfem IG, twitter, tumblr, reddit or whatever to continue being feminist. yes, perhaps these are the only places you can access feminist community where you're at right now, but even then, you've got to get in control of it.

cut off the males in your life that leech your energy, whether mental or otherwise. stop negotiating about it. it doesn't have to be a dramatic bridge-burning. you could just disengage. (this applies to your mother or any other codependent relationship) remain friendly without being a friend. even toxic female friendships. if your negative friendships outweigh your positive ones, you have serious house cleaning to do. because those are affecting your health.

put more energy into making positive connections (they do not have to be deep or dedicated, just positive) with the women around you. the woman who works at the pharmacy, or the plumber, idk. just foster positive attitudes with the people around you.

and de-stress, de-stress, de-stress. practice mindfulness, keep a clean gut, sleep better. this is your life we're talking about.

[lesorus]

having PCOS is some special kind of hell only a biological woman will ever have to deal with. you'll basically be told that you're at risk for cancer, diabetes, you're infertile, you'll get hirsutism, your hair is thin, your periods painful and irregular, you're constantly tired, constantly hungry, you're always in some kind of pain or discomfort, you might eat less than you need and still gain weight.

you'll be told the only thing you can do about it is diet and exercise, which is fair, it works, but you literally are at risk for high insulin resistance and fatigue as symptoms. you can only swim against the current. now, you can also take birth control pills but they don't solve any of your real problems, they just hide them and if anything the second you stop taking them your health will get worse.

And did I talk about mental health? well, you're at high risk for depression, anxiety, insomnia, and eating disorders. fun right? and it's not some obscure disorder, 10% of women have PCOS. It's a common ailment, you'd think it's well-researched, that OB-GYNS are experienced in treating it, or at least empathetic. Right?

No, literally no. Nobody cares, you have to be your own doctor, go to Reddit for information, and look up research papers. You trust tiktokers more than your medical providers because the best they're gonna do is tell you to take a pill that won't be that effective, diet, and come back when you're pregnant. Oh, your pain is unbearable? Just take some paracetamol. You can't seem to lose weight? Get a grip, you just need to eat 0 carbs and exercise every day, and lift weights. Get some laser treatment for your facial hair while you're at it. You're tired all the time? Doesn't seem that serious, everybody is.

Or worse. Oh, your labs come out fine, you're fine. You have a healthy BMI, what are you worried about? You get a period every 40-ish days so it's not that bad. Not that you're barely eating, exhausted all the time, in severe physical pain, and emotionally distressed. You'll be able to have kids! Cheer up!

And all this? Because the medical industry doesn't care about women.

[the-iceni-bitch]

You’ll Never Go Down to the Gods Again

Part X/X

Pairing: soft!stepbrother Alpha Ransom Drysdale x stepsister!fem Omega reader

Words: ~2.7k

Summary: You and Ransom navigate the aftermath of everything that’s happened, and finally start your new life together.

Chapter Warnings: explicit language, A/B/O, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, knotting), pregnancy symptoms, mentions of violence (nothing in detail just referenced), minor manipulations, hints at other series in the AU, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: It’s finished!!!! They’ve got their semi-happy ending and they made it all the way through. Our soft babies deserve all the happiness and safety and for nothing bad to happen to them ever again.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

“Are you goddamn insane?” Ransom put his hands on his hips and drew in a deep breath as he stared at Harlan incredulously, tapping his foot and scoffing when the older man just shrugged and nodded. “I’m not a fucking politician.”

“Neither is he.” Harlan took a slow sip from his mug of coffee as he watched Ransom closely. “But as you’ve found out, the interests he’s controlled by are especially unsavory, whereas the only interest you’d be beholden to is mine.”

Ransom groaned as he sank into the chair on the other side of the desk, leaning his head back and letting his eyes fall closed as he tried to get a grip on himself.

He knew that asking for Harlan’s help would have strings attached, but this was something else. The two of you couldn’t be in the city anymore, though, not after idiots from your father’s church had started waiting outside the apartment to harass you and call you a filthy Omega slut every chance they got. Ransom was getting sick of calling the cops every fucking day, and he hated how absolutely terrified you had become. You’d practically refused to leave for your OB/GYN appointment yesterday, and it was making Ransom worried about your pup.

But Harlan could help you. He had the extra property outside of the city, access to medical personnel that would come directly to you, and private security, god the private security alone should make whatever he wanted from Ransom worth it. You were giving him his first great grandchild, he should have been willing to give you everything. And he was, but with his own price.

“She’s not coming on the campaign trail if I do this.” Ransom hated the thought of actually having to be a fucking dancing monkey for his grandfather, but then he remembered how panicked and distressed you had been when the brick had been thrown through your window three days ago, and how long it had taken him to settle you down and get you to sleep. “I’m not going to exploit her for political points.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you let the press run that story about her. Yes I know, you didn’t ‘let’ them, but they ran it, and now the Omega rights activists want a piece of her.” Harlan shook his head when Ransom buried his head in his hands and groaned again. “I agree with you, though, I don’t want her traveling right now. I will happily keep her and my great grandchild safe and happy no matter what, but that man is dangerous, and besmirching our family’s reputation, and you’ve afforded me a very unique opportunity to get rid of him.”

“By pimping me out?” Ransom snorted at the no nonsense look on Harlan’s face. “What about Linda?”

“Your mother took a calculated risk by marrying him, it’s not my fault it’s blowing up in her face.” Harlan sighed when Ransom still looked wary, tapping his fingertips on his desk and leaning forward with a small frown on his face. “He’s running unopposed, but the research shows that someone young and sympathetic could run away with the election easily. You won’t have to worry about her at all, I even have a new house just a little less than an hour away that I can set you both up in, and a secure estate in Washington for when you win the election.”

“If I win.” Ransom hadn’t worked a day in his life, he didn’t know why his grandfather was taking for granted that he could win a damn senate race.

“When, I’m backing you, and I only back winners.” The pleased smile teasing Harlan’s lips did not escape Ransom, the younger man blowing out a deep breath and giving him a resigned nod. “Excellent, I will set up a meeting for you with the speech writer and campaign manager later in the week. I want you both here at the manor until after the pregnancy, I have medical staff on site and I’d feel better knowing she has everything she needs without having to travel. Oh, hello dear!”

Ransom started when you shuffled into the room with Harlan’s nurse, he thought her name was Marla. You actually looked somewhat relaxed, and it made his heart melt, the small smile on your face getting wider when he rose to his feet and cradled your jaw in his hands as you chirped softly.

“How was your walk, bunny?” Ransom kissed the tip of your nose and chuckled at how chilly it was. “Is it cold outside?”

“Just a little, it’s nice though.” You purred when he slid a hand down to rest against your growing bump, placing your hand over his and scenting his cheek when you felt a small kick. “Pup seemed to like it, she’s been so active. And it’s beautiful and quiet, and the dogs are so sweet.”

“I’m so glad, bunny.” Ransom took a deep breath and gave Harlan a sideways look before leaning down to rub your noses together. “Would you like to stay here for a bit, bunny? Harlan has agreed to let us stay here until she comes while he helps me find a new place outside of the city.”

“Really?” You looked so happy, beaming with watery eyes when Ransom nodded and turning to Harlan. “Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Thrombey, the city is so terrifying and there’s too many people, I just…”

“Oh, my dear girl, it’s alright.” Harlan stood up and took your hands in his when you started crying happy tears, smiling warmly at you while Ransom rested his chin on the top of your head. “And you need to start calling me Harlan, you're carrying my great granddaughter. You are always welcome here.”

“Thank you, Harlan.” You drew in a shuddering breath and chirped again when Ransom slid his arms around you and kissed your temple. “I promise we’ll treat your house like our own, we can’t thank you enough.”

“Al-alpha…” you whined when Ransom grunted against your neck as he drove his cock into you again, your cunt spasming around him when you came without warning as his balls smacked against your clit. “More, don’t stop.”

“Greedy little bunny.” Ransom cooed and grinned into your shoulder when you just shoved your hips back and bit your pillow as you made desperate noises for him. “You’ve already had three, how many more do you want?”

“All of them, please…” you didn’t even care when you felt warmth starting to stream down your chest while he squeezed your breasts, your arms giving out and your toes curling when he brought you to the edge again right away. “It’s so good.”

“It is so good, Omegamine.” Ransom chuffed and sucked on your mark when he felt you gushing all over his thighs. “This poor pussy is so needy, so hungry all the time.”

“Mmhm.” You gasped and your back arched violently when you came again, your swollen belly brushing against the bed while your pussy squirted for him. “Need my Alpha, don’t want you to go.”

“Oh, bunny, shit.” Ransom slowed down when he heard the emotion in your voice, cradling your chin gently and turning your head so he could press his lips to yours. “I hate it too, sweet girl, but I have to do these town halls.”

“I know, oh!” Your eyes fluttered closed when his knot swelled and locked you together, sighing when you were flooded with warmth and he rolled the both of you onto your sides. “I understand, but she’s going to be here so soon, I worry about you missing it.”

“I won’t miss our girl finally getting here, I promise.” Ransom stroked your hair as your breathing started to slow down, kissing your cheek and rumbling for you when you started fussing with the blankets and your milk soaked nightie. “Harlan said he’d send a helicopter if I need it, he would kill me if I wasn’t here for you.”

“He would, wouldn’t he?” You giggled a little when Ransom nibbled on your ear, winding your fingers through his when he rested them on your stomach.

“Yes, he would.” Feeling you relax made Ransom smile against your cheek. “I’m pretty sure he likes you more than me.”

“Mmhm.” You peeked at him over your shoulder and sank your body into his when he trailed soft kisses along your jaw. “Just promise me you’ll be home tonight?”

“I promise.” He kissed your mark almost reverently as his hand rubbed your belly gently and crooned against your skin. “I’ll always come home to you.”

“No.” Ransom frowned when he looked over the agreement Andy had placed in front of him, tossing it on the desk and leaning back in his chair while the bearded man let out a deep sigh. “I told you, she’s not testifying. Tell the DA she can have a written statement or come up with a better plea agreement so she doesn’t have to go to trial. She’s not setting foot in a courtroom with that bastard.”

“DA isn’t gonna like that.” Andy shrugged and grabbed the takeout container he had set aside. “She’ll get over it though, she likes me. Hates that fucker, she wants to nail him to the damn wall.”

“Good.” Ransom snarled when his thoughts dwelled on Lance for just a few seconds, wishing like he did every time that he had killed the asshole when he had the chance. “Hope she cuts his fucking knot off.”

“She would if she could.” Andy snorted before shoving some noodles into his mouth. “Can you get her statement to me by next month?”

“I think so.” Ransom cocked his brow at Andy when the man practically growled when his paralegal came into the room to hand him some paperwork, not missing how his eyes raked over her possessively when she walked away before he turned his attention back to his friend. “Pup is due any day and that could put a dent in it, but I’ll get it as soon as I can.”

“Alright, that’s fine.” Andy tossed his empty container and followed Ransom when he stood up to leave. “I think there’s press outside, man. You wanna head out the back?”

“No, I’m used to them.” Ransom sighed as he steeled himself. “They’ve been up my ass ever since the election. I’m hoping they’ll calm down by the time we’re in Washington.”

Andy just nodded as he held the door open for Ransom, squinting against the sudden flashing of camera bulbs and snorting before turning to head back to his office. Ransom just clenched his jaw when they started shouting questions at him, shaking his head at being bombarded with inquiries about where you were, were you going to testify, was the baby here yet, were you going to go with him to Washington…

“My wife was the victim of an extremely heinous crime, and is still the target of multiple threats from her father’s congregation. I will not entertain any questions that invade her privacy.” Ransom frowned when one of them asked what names you had picked out. “Nor will I be discussing our child. The election was tumultuous enough, all you need to know is that she will not be testifying, she will not be taking part in any of the numerous activist campaigns that have been harassing her, and that we appreciate you respecting our requests for privacy and discretion while our family does its best to recover from an incredibly difficult year, good night.”

He ignored their continued questions and climbed into the beemer, slamming the door behind him and drawing in a deep breath as he started the engine. Ransom pulled out his phone when he felt it vibrating, almost dropping it when he saw the message and peeling out as he dialed frantically.

“Harlan!” Ransom winced when he ran right through a red light, taking a turn a bit faster than advisable and slamming into the door since he forgot to buckle up. “Please tell me she just started.”

“She did, contractions are about five minutes apart, so you have time.” Harlan trailed off when you called out for Ransom, the need in your voice making your mate press the gas pedal all the way down to the floor and pray that no cops would be between the city and Harlan’s manor. “The doctor is monitoring her very closely and pleased with how she’s doing so far, but she wants you.”

“Twenty minutes.” Ransom finally hit the open road and breathed a sigh of relief, watching the speedometer creep up while he tried to remain calm. “I’ll be there soon.”

He made it in fifteen, slamming the front door open without a second thought and sprinting up the stairs when he heard you moan. You looked so beautiful when he finally saw you, already slick with sweat and doing your breathing exercises while Marta held your hand and told you how good you were doing.

“Alpha…” you tried to smile at him but could only groan when another contraction wracked your body, your grip on Marta’s hand tightening until Ransom replaced it with his own and sitting behind you on the bed so you could lean against him for support. “She’s coming fast, my water already broke.”

“It’s alright, it’s common with first births.” The doctor gave you and Ransom a reassuring smile when he frowned at her, checking your blood pressure again and nodding when Ransom started scenting you and rumbling to help soothe you. “You are doing so well, honey, very brave.”

“Yes, so brave, bunny.” Ransom kissed your hair when you let out a shuddering breath, letting you hold his hands tightly and matching his breathing to yours while he felt you tensing up again. “Just keep breathing, Omega, you’re so good.”

You felt infinitely better with Ransom there, able to relax even through the pain and smiling each time he kissed your cheek or your temple and told you how proud he was of you. Even though later they told you it had taken six hours, it felt like it took no time at all, Ransom holding your knees up to your chest and helping you push when you felt like you couldn’t anymore once the doctor had gotten everyone else out of the room.

“Almost there, just one more big push, mommy.” The doctor gave you a small smile when you nodded tersely, guiding the baby’s body out of you while you screamed. “Here’s the head, and shoulders, and here she is!”

The first loud cry from your daughter had you breaking down into the most joyous tears of your life, shaking in Ransom’s arms and beaming at him when he kissed you like you were the air he breathed. You had never been happier, sobbing and letting Ransom stand up so he could cut the cord.

“Oh, shit.” Ransom felt his own tears leaking down his cheeks when they bundled her up and placed her into his arms, laughing when she kept squalling and wriggling like a little fiend. “Bunny, she’s so beautiful. She’s amazing, I can’t believe we made her.”

“Let me see her.” You were still crying when he came to sit next to you, cooing when he placed her into your arms and leaning against him as he pressed soft kisses all over your cheek. “She’s so perfect, our pup. Amelia Clementine Drysdale. I want to give her everything, Alpha.”

“We will, I promise.” Ransom didn’t think such euphoria could ever be possible, gazing at you and then back at your daughter and knowing that he would do anything either of you wanted for the rest of your lives. “I will keep you both safe, nothing will ever happen to you as long as I’m here. My sweet Omega. I love you, Bunny.”

You purred and started scenting your pup while he wound you in his arms, peeking up at him through your lashes and feeling warmth bloom in your chest as you felt the deepest love and affection flowing through the bond, knowing that no matter what happened, he would always be your Alpha.

[unpretty]

Your monster porn got me to do an ultrasound, and it turns out I likely have PCOS. Thanks for that, but now I am furious with the entire medical profession. Somehow having like three periods a year for the last 8 years didn’t clue anyone in? Not my PCP or Ob-Gyn or ANYONE?! And then after some google searching — lemme get this straight — there’s no cure for the underlying causes, there’s just treatments for the changes in your APPEARANCE and FERTILITY?! I want to be careful about crying misogyn

y, especially since I’m not a woman (possibly due to the aforementioned PCOS), but— like— the ONLY suggestions I can find after a quick google search are for “exercise to mitigate the weight gain side effects; you don’t want to be fat, so you!” “Take birth control to fix the infertility side effect so you can make babies!” “Here are some hormones to help with the acne and excessive hair growth!” Okay, but… what about the increased risk of diabetes, anxiety, and depression????? What about the fact that I don’t want lumpy cysts on my ovaries?! What if I am literally okay with the hair growth, oily skin, infertility, and gender atheism (and tbh having androgens just in general) but not with the everything else??? Alsjshaiahwvwj and exercise doesn’t even work!!! I gained ten pounds after I started exercising! Where is all the research on this shit and why does Google not know anything about how to fix the underlying root cause?!

Maybe if I hadn’t switched out of chemistry I could do something about this

if astielle gets a print copy i'm making the first sentence of this series of asks a cover review

[wormworker]

( CN: graphic child abuse, endosexism )

.

.

.

Mutilating the genitals of Intersex babies is not only horrendous in itself (and universally accepted), it doesn't end there.

Your child will grow up with you having withheld that they're Intersex, and they'll start having debilitating pain and health problems and have no idea why, and neither will their doctors.

Endosex (binary sex) genitals are only part of being Intersex, and not all Intersex people have visibly Intersex genitals. Intersex people have Intersex chromosomes and hormones, regardless of what horrific things you do to our genitals.

Period pain comparable to endometriosis, chronic fatigue, out of control weight problems regardless of how hard we work to maintain a healthy weight, neverending genital pain, excruciating GYN exams that can be so painful they cause PTSD... the list goes on, and NO ONE knows how to help us with our pain because of the almost complete lack of medical research on Intersex people and the withholding of our indentities/diagnoses from us.

[haggishlyhagging]

Children's books provide chilling evidence of mind-control through dismembering myth. Fairy tales are particularly gruesome examples. An apparently genteel contemporary type of disguised mind-dismembering myth for children is exemplified in The Giving Tree, by Shel Silverstein. It is the story of a tree consistently referred to by the pronoun she—who gives absolutely everything she has to a boy. This begins innocently enough, with her shade, leaves, and fruit. But, the boy grows up and cuts off her branches and then her trunk. Finally, in his old age, he uses her stump as a seat. As a result of all this nonreciprocated giving, the tree is "happy." The jacket blurb of this book, published in 1964 but still a big seller, describes it as "a tender story . . . a moving parable for readers of all ages." The story, in fact, is one of female rape and dismemberment. It draws upon sources in the Background of female identity, taking the Tree of Life—who is the Goddess—and making her a willing participant in her own mutilation, which makes her "happy." Her degradation is total, for the "Giving Tree" wallows in self-destruction. Here is a model of masochism for female readers of all ages, and of sadism for boys of all ages. This chilling children's tale is an extension of christian myth. It is a superrefined, invasive, and deceptive offspring of self-satisfied secularists secure in their superiority to christian crudity. The saccharine sweet story of a little boy who "loves" a tree—a young Apollo who crowns himself with her leaves—has "healthier" appeal than overt S and M biblical tales of a dead godman crowned with thorns. Thus the post-christian (that is prechristian) parable has deceptive acceptability, extending its tentacles into unaware minds, guiding them to a more primal Fatherland, inhabited by paradigms of patriarchal matricide. It thus brings its parental purchasers and readers into unwitting compliance with primary programming for gynocide.

Whether or not the authors, illustrators, and promoters of such books "understand" that they are communicating gynocidal messages is beside the point. Since self-deception is of the essence of doublethink, they undoubtedly would respond with incredulity/amusement/indignation to such an analysis. For they themselves have been programmed not to recognize gynocidal reversals. Within the massive public relations business of patriarchy, the promotion of rape and dismemberment has top priority, and it is essential that the promoters make this fact invisible to everyone, especially to themselves. As George Orwell wrote of his character, Winston Smith, in 1984: "For the first time he perceived that if you want to keep a secret you must also hide it from yourself."

-Mary Daly, Gyn/Ecology

[tordenvejr]

ethical adult content!

audio based

🩷 Dipsea / dipseastories.com "We’ve reimagined erotica as an empowering experience that leaves room for your imagination. Intrigued? There’s more to our story than meets the ears."

🩷 Quinn / tryquinn.com "Quinn is the app for audio erotica, Browse creators, categories, and playlists, and find what you like best. Quinn was created by women for the world. Women have historically been underserved when it comes to erotic content, and we want to change that."

🩷 Emjoy / letsemjoy.com "Boost your libido and climax more consistently with new techniques, improve your relationships and accept your body through wellbeing sessions, and spark your imagination through hundreds of audio erotica stories with Emjoy – the science-backed audio app that puts you first. All of Emjoy's content is created with care by sex therapists and OB-GYNs." video based

🩷 Queer Porn TV / queerporn.tv "QueerPorn.TV is owned and operated by Courtney Trouble, and hosts exclusive content made by Trouble as well as a slew of other directors – all queer, all experienced sex workers. For a monthly fee, members have around-the-clock access to the huge variety of creative pornographic work that ranges from prolonged clothed make-outs, to sweaty marathon sex, to loving BDSM play… sometimes all within the same scene."

🩷 Bellesa / bellesa.co "All sex on Bellesa Plus is 100% consensual, and nothing gets filmed without (enthusiastic) consent from all performers."

🩷 CrashPadSeries / crashpadseries.com "CrashPad now showcases over 360 episodes and exclusive behind the scenes interviews, creating a space where LGBTQ+ adult film performers can share their sexuality in an environment that is inclusive, professional, and fun."

🩷 Shhh / shhh.com "Your source for ethically produced, sex-positive indie adult cinema. Our crowd-sourced films are inspired by fantasies and desires shared by our members. Our provocative storylines will challenge your perceptions of explicit sexual content." comics

🩷 Filthy Fragments / filthyfigments.com "Emphasizing strong narratives and well-developed characters is how Filthy Figments has made a unique voice for itself in the world of adult comics. The stories we publish explore subjects like gender, queerness, and body image and feature a variety of artistic styles, genres, sexualities, genders, kinks, and fetishes! We believe that people of all genders and orientations can find something to enjoy in our honest approach to sexuality."

🩷 Oh Joy Sex Toy / ohjoysextoy.com "OJST comics covers everything sex related from, sexuality and the sex industry, to toys, workshops, birth control and much more. With the aid of guest contributors sharing their many diverse perspectives, this site strives to be relevant to a wide variety of genders, body types, and sexualities."

if you have any corrections or recommendations, please add on (-:

[somber-sapphic]

Doctor vs. Lawyer

〘Prompt 9- White Coat Syndrome〙

〘Notes- This doesn't exactly fit the prompt, but I think it's close enough. ALSO. I'm going to throw in a TW for anxiety, I projected a bit in this one. Aaannndd I made Reader a lawyer because it was the most stressful job I could think of.〙

〘Summary- Your wife being a doctor doesn't make you fear them any less.〙

〘Word Count- 700〙

〘Pairing- Carina DeLuca x Sick Reader〙

〚Main Masterlist〛⌶〚Sicktember Masterlist〛

You sat on the edge of the cot in the ER, your knee bouncing rhythmically against the cold tile floor. You didn’t want to be here, in fact, the hospital was the last place you wanted to be. You didn’t even enjoy coming here to bring your wife lunch, let alone when you were actually ill.  

It wasn’t that you disliked Carina’s coworkers, in fact, you got along with them all very well. But that was outside of the hospital. Here, you were something to be poked and prodded at and studied. You were helpless, out of your element. You weren’t in control.

A painful cough ripped through your chest, and you ducked your face into your shirt, doing your absolute best to suppress and quiet the fit. That cough was the reason you were here. You’d been talking to Carina on the phone (she hadn’t been home in days), and the young doctor had ordered you to come in.

“Car, I want to go home. I’ll be fine at home, please.” You whispered, turning pleading eyes on the OB/GYN who was staring at the floor.

“No, bambina, you need to be here. I can only do so much at home. I cannot help if you need antibiotics.” She explained firmly, rubbing her knee with a free hand while texting with the other. A quick glance over her shoulder showed you that she was texting Amelia, presumably in relation to your nonexistent treatment.

“I want to go home.” You said again, coughing into your shoulder. The cold you had woken up with a week ago hadn’t gone away, instead it had gotten 10x worse. Carina had been doing her best to monitor your symptoms but, in the end, she couldn’t legally treat you.

“I know. If you had done a better job at taking care of yourself maybe, we wouldn’t be here.” The brunette snapped, glaring at you. She loved you, she did, but she had also been working nonstop for weeks, barely leaving the hospital. She hadn’t been home to sleep or have a proper meal for eight days. The last place either one of you wanted to be was Grey Sloan.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whispered, tears filling your eyes. More than you hated being here, you hated making the woman you loved angry. You knew that you should’ve taken better care of yourself, but you’d gotten distracted. It was hard being a lawyer, you often worked just as many hours as Carina.

The physician sighed and ran her fingers through her silky hair, tossing the long locks over one shoulder. She turned to face you and smiled a little, shaking her head.

“No, I’m sorry. It is not your fault that you got sick, I apologize for biting.” Now it was your turn to smile. Her little slip ups in English were always adorable.

“Snapping babe, not biting.” You corrected, putting your head on her shoulder. The mix of exhaustion from your illness and the nonstop bouncing of your leg was getting to you. Another wet cough tore through your body, followed by a sound you didn’t know that you could make. Now you felt anxious, sick, and pathetic.

“Oh, amore. I know you’re nervous, but I promise it will all be okay. We will make sure it’s someone you feel comfortable with, yeah? No one gets to touch you unless you’re okay with it. And as soon as it’s done, we will get you back home and into a warm bath, then bed.” She said, placing a featherlight kiss to your sweaty hairline.

You couldn’t fathom why on Earth she’d want to be kissing you right now, but there was no way that you’d be complaining. You leaned into her side, resting your head in the crook of her neck.

If your nose hadn’t been so stuffy you probably could’ve smelled her calming vanilla scent, the perfume always a comfort. You sprayed it all over the sweatshirt that was saved specifically for when she was gone.

“There she is, see, just Amelia. We like Amelia, no?” Carina said with a smile, running her thumb across your cheekbone. You nodded, still apprehensive. The neurosurgeon was great, you loved her as a friend, but still. Doctors.

“It will be fast my love. I promise.” Your girlfriend soothed, kissing your earlobe. It was a strange place for a kiss, but you weren’t about to object to a little extra comfort. With a final deep breath -and subsequent coughing fit- you steeled yourself, ready for whatever Amelia would throw at you. As long as Carina was there, you could do anything.

〖Join My Taglist!〗@lovelyy-moonlight, @bloomingflowersthings, @lots-of-pockets, @asiangmrchk13, @scrambled-brain-eggs, @juststuckhereforever, @chairhere, @goldenempyrean

[radfemverity]

(The following is a rewrite from @aristocat98’s now deactivated account.)

Could radfems stop being like ‘gyns, help! How do I cope with being physically inferior to men?’ I know internalised misogyny is one hell of a drug, but that is an idiotic take. What physical inferiority I'm asking, when:

🍄 Women live 6-8 years longer than men. Women in the EU live on average 6 years longer, women in my country live 8 years longer, 73 vs 81! Elderly women outnumber elderly men notably, and are much more likely to outlive their spouse. What kind of ‘physically inferior’ humans live almost a decade longer?

🍄 Women have better immunity, are less vulnerable to most infectious diseases, are more likely to have mild symptoms and survive a plague.

🍄 Women are notably less likely to suffer a heart attack or stroke at a young age (50s), as their cardiovascular system is much less suspectible to failure due to the protective properties of oestrogens.

🍄 Despite the above and a lower risk of visceral obesity, insulin resistance etc, women still have proportionally more adipose tissue than men which makes them notably more likely to survive a famine.

🍄 The risk of most cancers tends to be lower for women, with some exceptions.

🍄 Women have higher pain tolerance (associated with childbirth), and subjectively perceive symptoms such as fever to be affecting them less.

🍄 Girls and women are less affected by genetic disorders, usually not even manifesting symptoms of these related to X chromosome, and manifesting milder symptoms of most other ones. The only category of diseases where female sex elevates the risks are autoimmune diseases.

🍄 Women have an organ solely dedicated to sexual pleasure which allows them to have orgasms in sex without risk of contracting an STD or conceiving a child.

Basically, the only aspect where men are ‘better’ is conventional physical strength and size. That’s it. Most of us aren't olympic athletes, but many of us will live longer, tolerate pain better, and not get cancer. Men only have one physical advantage over women, so they made it the be all end all in the culture they control. You let men teach you that being big and strong is the be all end all of physical superiority, when reasonably most people would prefer a better health and a longer life. The first step to eliminating misogyny is eliminating unfair misogynistic biases in your own head.