Hello my love,
Would you be willing to write a little blurb about Daniel or Sam (or both in a throuple) taking care of their lady on her period? I’m having a real bad one rn and I want to be pampered
-☘️
“sammy.”
your boyfriend looked up from his phone, frowning at the tone of your voice. you hadn't quite managed to maintain strong front you'd been putting up all day, and just being home was enough to make you feel like crying.
“what's wrong, bunny?” he asked, setting his phone on the coffee table and beckoning to you. “come here.”
you left your bag, your shoes, your sweater, everything in a pile on the floor, right in the middle of the walkway. you didn't have enough energy to care. you curled up next to him on the couch and let him hold you.
“bad day at work?” he asked, brushing his fingers through your hair.
you gave a pitiful whimper and nodded. “'m on my period. i feel really bad.”
“aw, lovie,” sam cooed. “i'm sorry. let's boss danny around, would that make you feel better?”
you couldn't help a small smile. “maybe.”
“hey danny,” sam called to your boyfriend. “we're gonna boss you around, okay?”
“let me put this load of laundry on,” danny said from down the hall. “and then you may.”
you stayed snug in sam's arms as you waited for danny to join you, and he came into the living room with a laundry basket a few moments later.
“pajamas?” he asked, setting the basket on the couch and starting to fold the mix of his, yours, and sam's clothes. he tossed you a well-worn t-shirt of his and some sweatpants of sam's.
“that was going to be my first order, actually,” sam said. “it's like we can read each other's minds, honey. how cool is that?”
danny chuckled. “very cool, love. but what did you do to our girl?”
“me?” sam said, playfully offended. “not a thing.”
“i'm malfunctioning,” you said, your voice muffled against sam's shirt.
“she's on her period,” sam translated.
“ah, i see.” danny nodded to the kitchen. “there's rocky road, and sam made vegan ice cream sandwiches if you want to try them.”
you looked up at sam. “you made vegan ice cream sandwiches?”
“yes, i did,” he said. “and you're welcome to eat them all if they help you stop malfunctioning.”
“she's not malfunctioning,” danny said sweetly. “she's going through the natural, intuitive hormonal cycle of her body. it's a beautiful thing.”
you winced when a particularly painful cramp spread across your abdomen. “doesn't feel very beautiful.”
“well, tylenol is a beautiful thing too,” danny agreed. “i'll go get you some, and sam can help you get in your pajamas. unless you need in the bathroom.”
you shook your head. “i think i'm good for right now.” you let sam help you out of your work clothes and into danny's shirt and his sweatpants, and you took the medicine danny brought you before you snuggled close to sam again.
danny finished folding the laundry and set it aside to be put away later. “i thought you were going to boss me around, bunny. i'm feeling kind of let down.”
you smiled. “can you put on a movie, please?”
“that's very bad bossing, sweetheart,” he said seriously, turning on the tv. “no please, next time.” he pulled netflix up. “what movie?”
“whatever you guys want,” you said, moving to lay with your head on sam's lap. you curled in on yourself, grimacing against the cramps that hadn't been knocked out by the medicine just yet.
“what about that grateful dead documentary?” danny asked sam. “you haven't had a chance to finish it yet, right?”
“you want to watch that?” sam asked, a little surprised.
danny smiled. “if you want to, love.”
“oh, well... sure, i'd like to finish it. thank you, honey.”
danny turned on the movie and went to turn off the lights to make things nice and dim for you. sam ran his fingers through your hair in a soothing motion, and though you were interested in it, you watched the documentary with flagging attention as the day's exhaustion and discomfort caught up with you.
“hey, bunny.”
you opened your eyes to see danny hunkered down by your side. you gave him a tired smile, and he smiled back.
“hi, dan.”
“hi, sweetheart,” he said softly. “do you need anything else?”
you nodded. “your hands.”
his brow shot up. “my hands?” he glanced up at sam and grinned when their eyes met. “in what, uh, capacity do you want them?”
you giggled. “get your mind out of the gutter, daniel.”
“now, i'm with danny,” sam teased. “can't just go around saying you need our boyfriend's hands and not expect him to be curious.”
“you want to fool around a little, bunny?” danny asked, a sweet and mildly amused kind of desire softening his face. “i'm sure we could arrange something.”
you smiled. “maybe later. what i meant was that i wanted your hands on my back, because they're nice and warm.”
“right, of course,” danny said with a smile. “sure thing, bunny.”
he straightened, fixing the pillows on the couch to make room for himself, but sam stopped him before he got settled.
“wait, danny,” sam said. he tipped his face up. “smooch.”
“hey,” you said. “i want a smooch too.”
danny chuckled. “fine.” he gave sam a kiss first. “a smooch for sammy.”
he kissed you next, soft and sweet. “and a smooch for bunny. everybody happy?”
you and sam hummed in agreement, moving to make room for danny next to you. you'd gotten a sectional for your shared apartment for this very purpose, so you could all fit; danny stretched out and propped himself on his arm behind you, splaying one hand over the small of your back and tracing little circles there.
“how's that, bunny?” he asked.
you cuddled closer to your boyfriends, tucking your feet close to danny, wrapping your arm around sam's legs, feeling their hands wander with an aimless, gentle comfort over you.
you gave a contented sigh, your period all but forgotten as you cuddled your favorite boys. “it's absolutely perfect.”
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That Time of the Month
Tw: Heavy mentions of periods/menstruation
Hi there! My name is foxy and we have a fun time here! Today I wanted to talk about periods, how periods can affect age regression, and things you can do to make this time easier on yourself when regressed.
The affects of periods on littles:
Can make littles upset because of how big their period makes them feel.
Cramps are the worst.
Fatigue from having a period makes it easier to be irritable which can cause tantrums or unhappy regression.
On a similar note, negative thoughts can increase during shark week which is never a fun time.
(These are just some things that I’ve experienced in the past. I’m sure there’s more)
Things that can help:
Draping a blanket over yourself
Using a heating pad.
Taking a hot bath or shower.
Sleeping.
Wearing comfortable, loose-fitting clothing.
Watching tv, playing video games, or any other sort of escapism.
Eating plenty of yummy food.
Journaling/agere journaling to either distract yourself or get those bad thoughts out.
If needed, taking painkillers can help with cramps (please do this one responsibly and/or with help if fully regressed)
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Readers. Friends. I ask you to pick up your Bibles and please do not turn to John 15:13
Greater love hath no man than to eat bugs, beg for kittens, shank a psychologist, and devote himself body and soul to a scary Romanian guy.
Again, do not turn to that chapter and verse. You have no need to, I've just outlined it for you and that is definitely what it says. You have no need to verify anything because of the bond of trust we share. You all know I would never, ever steer you wrong. Some people will tell you not to trust anonymous randos, and they are absolutely right. But I am not just any anonymous rando: I am an anonymous rando with a vision.
@draculadailybracket is running a contest to find the ultimate Sexyman of Dracula. This is no easy task. Scholars have debated this question for over a century. Nikola Tesla once put all the brilliant intellect to the test searching for the answer, only to determine it was an injured white pigeon. Dr. Sara Josephine Baker was once quoted as saying "Wash your goddamn hands right this minute. Also I'm torn between Renfield and Van Helsing, but unquestionably the sexiest person is Sister Agatha." Marie Curie, along with her husband Pierre, conducted an experiment by which the book was encased in radium in the hope something interesting would happen. It did not. Perhaps most heroically, Elijah McCoy posited the answer could only be confirmed once all the characters were properly and thoroughly lubricated.
My friends, I don't claim to have any more insight than the esteemed thinkers listed above. All I know are the facts: Thomas Bilder is a fine, fine man. He is a good, dutiful man. Not just anyone could flip off Dracula verbally and live to tell the tale.
But he is not R.M. Renfield.
Renfield (full name Royal Majesty Renfield, Roy to his innumerable friends and admirers) is a different sort of man. He doesn't have an interesting accent or ready access to wolves, it's true. But here are some things he does have:
Flies. So many flies.
A box of spiders.
The ability to summon flocks of sparrows at will, like a Disney princess.
The fortitude to eat all those sparrows, something no Disney princess to date has had the courage to do.
A deep reverence for all life, great and small.
The conviction necessary to shank his psychologist, instead of just hanging on for months thinking "I really need to switch psychologists but it's so awkward oh my god, finding a new one is a hassle, OK maybe just a few more sessions, goddamn it, how do I get out of this."
A friendly attitude toward Romanians that technically makes him more progressive in the 19th century than Tesco circa 2020.
He's like. Aged beef.
Seriously, he's a big strong energetic silver fox. I mean. You see where I'm going with this.
He is definitely good at sex is where I'm going with this.
Might be kind of awk being around him if you're menstruating, though.
Or not, if you're into that kind of thing. I know some people are, no kinkshaming here.
This is an inclusive space.
...what was I talking about again?
Oh right.
He's hot.
Hot swole sexy old rat man
Aaaaaa.
Friends, once again pick up your Bibles-- nah, actually let's pick up the Tao Te Ching for a little variety. Please do not read anything from chapter Three:
The wise therefore rule by emptying hearts and stuffing bellies with flies, spiders, and ideally also cats, by weakening ambitions except for drinking your psychologist's blood, and strengthening big sexy silver fox bones.
Again, there is absolutely no need to check for yourself. Because you, my dear reader, trust me. And because you trust me, you know I'm right about this. So please, whatever your feelings about Mr. Bilder, know that Renfield is the right choice. He deserves your vote. He deserves a kitten. And he deserves all the blood he can slurp up off the floor.
I know I can count on you to make the right choice. Thank you.
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