#Crosspost

[niceferatu]

throwback to when Neopets tried to convince us they were introducing a new pet type called Hughman that looked like this

[nyerus]

The Narrative Importantance of Hualian's Sexual Intimacy

This is a repost and minor edit of a thread I made on Twitter yesterday. This is a topic I have always wanted to talk about because of how often it comes up in TGCF fandom, time and time again.

‼️CW: mentions of sexual assault, self-harm, bodily injury‼️

⚠️Major spoilers for the entire novel ahead⚠️

---

Saw a question the other day on what relevance Hualian being sexually intimate by the end of the novel had to either the narrative or Xie Lian's character arc.

In short: it bears significant relevance, especially in context of other themes the novel explores like bodily autonomy.

Throughout the novel, we see time and time again that Xie Lian is often dehumanized by pretty much everyone—including himself—with the sole exception of Hua Cheng. I've talked more in depth about it in an old twt thread, for those interested. @/stalliondany on twt has also made an excellent recent analysis that goes deeper into the specific ways Xie Lian was used as a physical shield, martyr, or scapegoat for others without thought to his humanity or suffering. I highly recommend reading it first!

But to sum it all up: it's important to Xie Lian's character arc to keep in mind that he is used to seeing his own body as a tool to solve problems. And in crucial narrative moments, he is robbed of his bodily autonomy, and either brutalized or violated in service of others.

One of the plot points that ties together all these concepts is actually... Xie Lian's chastity vows. That will be the main focus of this post.

When he was a young teen (or possibly as a child), Xie Lian took an oath of chastity because such was the norm for cultivators seeking ascension in Xian Le. To Xie Lian, even as he grew older, he never had an issue with this because he just never felt sexual attraction to another person, or any desire to be intimate in that way. Even if he yearned for the concept of being loved. And indeed, at first glance, his chastity vows may seem like nothing more than a side note. Or even a funny gag when it comes to Hua Cheng (later).

In reality Xie Lian's chastity vows are not only used against him, but paint a very disturbing picture with regards to his repeated violation.

The Land of the Tender scene is the most obvious example of this. Xie Lian's vows are directly tied to his spiritual powers, and because it affects how his followers see him. They place a high value on his chastity as being vital to his moral character.

For reference, an excerpt from TGCF vol. 3 of the English print translation, page 135:

Xie Lian's method of cultivation required a pure body. Those who worshipped the ascended cultivators who practiced this path were firmly convinced of the transcendence of gods untouched by earthly desires. If they couldn't protect their purity, their following would no doubt collapse and their powers would be devastated. It wouldn't be as serious as plunging from godhood to back to mortality, and there was still the possibility of recovery after many more years of cultivation—but with things as they were now, there was no time for him to sit behind closed doors and cultivate for years!

As a reminder: it is Bai Wuxiang who orchestrated this whole thing. Him trying to compromise Xie Lian in this way is horrific on many levels, yet that's not the main point I want to make here. It's that to preserve his "pure body," the solution Xie Lian realizes is to severely harm himself. To impale himself with his sword through the abdomen.

The juxtaposition of having to maintain bodily purity versus the gruesome violence inflicted on his body is extremely stark.

This grim contrast is no more evident than in the 100 swords scene. Where Xie Lian's body is literally brutalized and defiled to an unthinkable degree. To the point where he, quote: "no longer looked human." Yet he emerges from that temple physically "pure" all the same. His chastity vows were not broken, his body healed without scars. As though he was untouched.... And yet, he was completely destroyed mentally. It left permanent effects on him as a person. It's even worse when the scene is read analogous to sexual assault, as many have talked about before. I think that interpretation actually hits the nail on the head, especially keeping in mind the Land of the Tender scene and all the similarities between them.

Following the 100 swords scene, Xie Lian of course has a complete disconnect between himself and his body. I believe this is part of why he doesn't really feel pain, except when he is with Hua Cheng, who treats him and his body as one. As a person who is cherished, and loved. Hua Cheng is adamant in his adoring treatment of Xie Lian. Small injuries are also something he cannot tolerate because he knows what horrors befell Xie Lian in the past. (He was present at both the terrible moments mentioned above.) He will not let any of that continue, regardless of what Xie Lian says, because he sees it as injustice.

Xie Lian is willing to use himself as a tool to help others no matter the personal cost. He even thinks of it as something he must do, or that he deserves as penance. But Hua Cheng is the one person who asks "what about you?" He's the one that insists "your happiness matters." And it is Hua Cheng that takes issue with Xie Lian's chastity vows as being unfair, unlike everyone else. Regardless of Hua Cheng's reasons for this diegetically, symbolically it means a lot that he is the one opposed to this.

Just thinking about the chastity vows on their own for a moment: Xie Lian can indulge a little bit in stuff like alcohol, which isn't great to begin with for him. But he absolutely cannot engage in "pleasures of the flesh." He can totally have his flesh ripped from his bones, literally, but actually experiencing any kind of sexual gratification? Now that would make him unclean, and lesser.... Why? Because unlike everything else, that's something Xie Lian would do simply for himself to feel good. And what greater crime is there than to ever dare put himself first?

So Hua Cheng—being the one person who puts Xie Lian first above all else—thinking that such a restriction doesn't make sense is important. Hua Cheng being the person who Xie Lian breaks those vows for in the end is important! (Especially because it seems to have been an easy choice for him.)

And of course, the scene with Jun Wu and the Virginity Detector Sword™ has to be mentioned. Again, there's symbolism to be had! The perpetrator of two of the most physically violating moments of Xie Lian's life (both of which were sexual in nature; one literally and one allegorically) being the one to "check" Xie Lian's virginity... oof. Yikes. It's dramatic irony. It's deeply uncomfortable. Especially because Jun Wu probably wanted to know if Xie Lian slept with Hua Cheng, as he already knew Xie Lian wasn't the ghost fetus' father.

So it's once again a stark juxtaposition: of Ghost King Hua Cheng disagreeing with the purity vows, wanting Xie Lian to break them for himself and his own freedom. Versus Heavenly Emperor Jun Wu wanting to weaponize those vows against Xie Lian in whatever way he can, intact or not, to keep control over him.

Naturally, there's something to be said for the real-world problem with such purity vows being used against people, to judge their moral character, societal expectations, etc. Elephant in the room. It's very on the nose, so there isn't even much to say about it that hasn't been said already.

In the end, it comes down to how horrible it is that when Xie Lian tries to help others, it results in immense harm to his body every time. Yet he is expected to continue to bear it, for centuries, by others and also himself. Until he meets Hua Cheng, who helps him rediscover what it means to be happy, and to be loved. So yes, it's absolutely relevant that in the end, Xie Lian decides to break his purity vows to be intimate with Hua Cheng. That he's able to put himself in Hua Cheng's hands, and let himself be treated with affection and desire. It's Xie Lian finally forgiving himself, and beginning to heal.

[halogalopaghost]

Doctor On Call

read on AO3

“Hey Donnie, is this infected?”

Donatello jerked away from his workstation as Mikey’s foot came down on it heel-first. A large nodule stuck out from the lateral interior of his foot—red, angry, and (oh, goody) leaking.

He wrinkled his nose and used his screwdriver to push the foot unceremoniously off his desk. “How’d you even manage to get a blister there? We don't wear shoes, Mikey.”

He laughed. “You’re tellin’ me, dude. But uh, it kinda hurts, so—”

Donnie heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Hang on, let me go sterilize a needle.”

---

“Y’know how you said to never remove a weapon if you’re impaled?”

Don swiveled around in his chair, only able to see a green and red blur through his magnifying visor. He pushed it up and away from his eyes with the back of his grungy hand, and found a little more red decorating the scene than he would have liked.

“Raphael,” he began evenly, “would you care to explain how this happened?”

Standing on the threshold of his brother’s lab, Raphael shifted from foot to foot. The sai embedded in his shoulder wobbled slightly, but he didn't so much as wince. “No,” he finally said.

Donnie put a hand to his face for a moment, drawing in a steadying breath. “At least have the decency to go get the suture kit, then.”

Raph grinned guiltily, then went for the kit.

---

“Heeey, Donnie,” Leo drawled.

Donatello froze, hunched over his workspace. “What did you do?”

Leo must have taken that as an invitation to enter, because his bare feet padded farther into the room, stopping just behind Don. He rested a hand heavily on his brother’s shoulder. “Why assume I did something? Do I need an ulterior motive to check in on my little bro?”

Donnie’s mouth thinned into a line as he stared bemusedly at his latest robotics project. “Well we could start with the slurred speech and the weave in your gait.”

He shrugged Leo’s hand off and turned around in the worn desk chair. It was lucky he did, it gave him just enough time to snatch Leo’s arm before he completely busted his shell. The fast-bruising welt on his head proved Don’s theory.  

“Did you hit your own head, or did Raph finally snap?”

For a second, Leo looked like he was going to deny it, then his shoulders fell and he sighed. “I lost a fight with the cabinet above the stove. Think you could check for a concussion?”

“Only if I get lifetime mocking rights,” he shot back. “Fearless Leader Felled by Cast Iron Pan From Above, what a headline.”

Leo sat heavily on the spare stool. “Fine, fine.”

Don plucked his penlight from the pencil cup and swiveled toward his brother. “See, this is why Mikey doesn’t let you in the kitchen.”

---

“Excuse me, Donatello.”

Donnie startled in his chair. Master Splinter always surprised him like that; he could hear his brothers coming from a mile away, but never their father. He stood and turned to face him, bowing quickly. “Yes, Sensei—oh.”

Master Splinter stood on the threshold of the lab, holding out his shaking paws—the pads of which were an angry red, and growing blisters quickly. Donatello practically picked his father up in the process of getting him to a place to sit down.

“Leo!” He hollered in the general direction of the dojo, hoping that’s where his brother was. “Bring ice! Sensei, you should have put these under the faucet immediately,” he chided softly.

“Yes, my son, I realized that halfway here.” He chuckled, despite how painful it must have been to have Donnie poking and prodding at his hands. “What is it that you say? Six, half dozen?”

Donnie laughed too, he couldn't help it. Anything sounded like a wise old Japanese proverb when Master Splinter said it. And the fact that his first thought had been to go to his son…well, Donnie knew he was no doctor, but it was touching how much trust his family placed in him.

Leo, bless him, showed up less than sixty seconds later with ice wrapped in a thin dish towel. “Sensei!” He sucked a breath through his teeth, catching a glimpse of his burned paws before Donnie placed the ice on top of them. “What happened?”

He looked at his sons from beneath his thick brows, one ear twitching. “We shall tell your brothers a different story, but…I was trying to make tea,” he finally relented.

Donnie’s hand audibly smacked against his forehead. Leave it to the master ninja to give himself partial thickness burns with a pot of water.

Leo laid a hand on Sensei’s shoulder. “We’ll tell Raph and Mikey that you were training and save you the torment.”

Sensei laughed again, more heartily this time. “Thank you, my sons.”

Donnie took the ice away from his hands. “Hmm, that doesn't look good. Let's go back to the kitchen and run them under water, okay?”

“Of course, Donatello. Thank you.”

Holding onto Sensei’s elbow as they left for the kitchen, Donnie beamed at the praise.

---

Three things happened at once: first, a string of very colorful language drifted from Donnie’s lab over to where his three brothers sat in front of the television; the power flickered twice and then cut out; and in the very brief, very dark silence that followed, the fire alarm in Donnie’s lab began shrilling.

All three of them jumped up without a word to one another, expertly navigating their home in the dark. 

“Donnie!” Leo called, skidding into the dark lab.

Raphael clambered on top of a workbench to silence the alarm, sending Donnie’s projects and gadgets tumbling all over. There was no fire, just the smell of smoke.

“Don?” Leo tried again. He stilled, briefly confused that he couldn't find his brother in the dark. Usually he would at least hear his breathing—

Oh shell, he wasn't breathing.

The three of them realized as one, and the scramble began anew. Leo fell to his hands and knees to find his brother, Mikey went for the emergency floodlight on the wall, and Raph left the lab altogether. By the time he came back with the AED, Leo was already halfway through a round of compressions.

CPR on a turtle was…complicated. Their hearts were dead center in their chest, to begin with, which meant ‘the medial joint of their plastron’s scutes prevented compressions too deep’, as Donatello had so technically said. Donnie assured them all that if a scute was cracked or bruised during compressions, it would be okay. But now that Leonardo actually had his brother's plastron beneath his palms, hearing and feeling the groan of it every time he pressed down, he didn't feel so certain.

Raph knelt on Donnie’s other side while Mikey stood over them with the flashlight, trying to illuminate as much of the scene as possible.

“Do you smell that?” Mikey asked, voice shaking.

Yeah, they smelled it. Burned flesh was hard to miss. But treating whatever other wounds Donnie had sustained had to come second to his heart.

Raph tore the paper off the AED pads and carefully placed them just like Don taught him, then pressed the on switch. They all nearly jumped out of their shells when Donnie’s voice, thin and tinny, came out of the AED. “Analyzing cardiac rhythm,” it said. 

Raph wanted to cover his ears. If the last time he heard his brother’s voice was from the stupid AED—

“Administering shock. Stay clear of the patient.”

“Clear,” Raph said.

“Clear,” both of his brothers echoed, Leo holding his hands up near his head to prove it.

“Shock will be delivered in 3…2…1…” Donnie jolted once as electricity shot through him. “Shock administered, check pulse and breathing and resume compressions if necessary.”

Raph put his fingers on Don’s neck, then shook his head. Leo moved to resume compressions, but he signaled him to stop. No, there was something there…

Both brothers froze.

“I have a pulse, but he’s not breathing.” Without giving his brothers any time to respond to that information, Raph lifted one meaty fist and brought it down hard on the center of Don’s chest. 

Donnie took a deep breath, eyes flying open in terror. He wobbled on his shell, off-balance in a panicked effort to flee. Three sets of hands came down on his chest to stop him.

“Donnie, don't move,” Leo said urgently. He took his brother’s pulse, actually timing it this time, and listened to his heavy, ragged breathing for a moment.

The power came back on.

“What the fuck, Don!” Raph yelled.

He looked between his brothers, clearly disoriented, but less panicked with a good view of his surroundings. “Sorry,” he gasped out. He accepted his their help as he struggled to sit up, hands over his plastron. “Ough, my chest. What happened?”

Leo grabbed his hands, flipping them palms up. He wrinkled his nose. Well, he figured out where the burned flesh smell came from—Donnie’s palms were both blistered and slightly charred, but it didn't seem to cover too much surface area.

“We were kinda hopin’ you could tell us,” Raph sighed out, adrenaline ebbing.

Donnie eyed the AED, then looked over Raph’s head up to his workstation. He blinked a few times, then smiled sheepishly. “I, uh. I think I forgot to unplug it.”

They followed Donnie’s eyes up to the unidentifiable appliance on the workbench. Whatever it was, Donnie had long stripped it of its housing and any other identifiable features. Other than that it was made of metal and plugged into the wall, they didn't have a clue what it was.

“You knucklehead,” Raph muttered. “I’d kill you if I hadn’t just finished savin’ your skin.” He ripped the pads off Don’s chest and tossed them in the AED bag, standing up to wash his hands of the whole affair.

Mikey scooted into Raph’s spot and threw his arms around Donnie’s neck. “Don’t ever do that again! I thought you were toast, bro!”

“Don’t do what again?” Splinter appeared in the doorway, body-blocking Raphael. He tapped his cane on the ground, whiskers twitching.

“Oh—Sensei, uh. I just had…an accident. Everything’s okay now. No need to worry.” He tried for a smile. It was too wobbly to be reassuring. 

He gave all four of his sons an incredibly unamused stare. They all ducked their heads, still unwilling or unable to stick their ground in the face of that all-knowing look. “Leonardo, how badly is he wounded?”

“It’s not too bad, Sensei.” He held Donnie’s burned hand out, showing him the minor damage. “I’m more worried about the fact that your heart stopped, Donnie.”

Donatello had the decency to look ashamed. “It probably didn’t stop,” he muttered. “Most likely, it was ventricular fibrillation.”

“Oh, that sure makes me feel better,” Raph drawled sarcastically. “I guess he’s fine, guys, let’s all hit the hay. Are you stupid, Donnie? No—don’t answer that.”

“I’m fine! You guys knew exactly what to do, so I'm fine. Just a little bruised up.”

Splinter, with his ears pressed flat against his head, closed his eyes momentarily and took a deep breath. “You four will be the end of me. Donatello, be honest—what side effects should we prepare for?”

He pulled his hands away from Leo, using the side of one to rub absently at his chest. “Uhh, nothing much. Just, uh, that my heart doesn’t…stop again. Or something like that.”

“Oh, sure, nothin’ too serious,” Raph scoffed.

Only the telltale twitch of their father’s whiskers alerted them to his vague irritation. “You will be sleeping in the infirmary bed tonight, my son. Come, help your brother up.”

Mikey and Leo got Donnie to his feet pretty quickly, and Raph put a hand on the back of his shell as if to say ‘there, I participated, are you happy?’ They helped him the few steps to the infirmary cot, which Donnie was surprised to actually need. Not only did his legs seem unwilling to comply—it seemed that the electricity had left an exit wound on the bottom of his left foot.

Master Splinter sat in the chair beside the cot, pulling the rolling cart of medical supplies closer to himself. “I will treat the burns while you set up the heart monitor.”

“Guys, really, I'm okay.” Even as Leo started sticking EKG nodes on him and Raph clipped the pulse oximeter on one green finger, he protested. “The likelihood of going into v-fib again is infinitesimal.”

“Ahh, darn, looks like we can't comply with your complaints if we can't understand the words yer usin’,” Raphael drawled.

Splinter gently drew Donnie’s burned hand into his own. “My son, it is you that so often cares for us when we are injured or unwell. Let us return the favor now and care for you.”

Donnie smiled in spite of himself, looking down at his lap as he felt heat rise in his cheeks. “Okay, I guess that makes sense. Thank you, Sensei.”

“Didja hit your head on the way down?” Raph asked, standing behind his head.

“Uh, I don't think so. No bumps, no headache.”

“Good.” A smack reverberated around the room. “Be smarter next time, genius.”

Don lurched forward, hands raised instinctively to protect the head that Raph smacked. “Ow! Talk about insult to injury!”

“That's actually injury to injury,” Raph corrected, leaning into his field of vision. “You die, an’ I'm gonna dig you up just to kill you again. You hear?”

Donnie winced as Master Splinter made his first pass with the antibacterial gel on his hand. “Loud and clear, boss,” he grumbled.

Maybe, just maybe, it would be okay to let himself be taken care of.

Just this once.

[threadsun]

First Time For Everything (18+)

Fandom: The Groom of Gallagher Mansion

Pairing: Elias Gallagher x Taylor Potts (x reader)

Synopsis: Elias and Taylor are ready to lose their virginities. But... they need you to walk them through it? Please?

Content: anal fingering, anal sex, first times, ass eating, masturbation, multiple orgasms, begging, praise kink, overstimulation

“Are you quite sure about this, my dear?”

“Taylor?” You glance at him, giving a nod in Elias’ direction.

“Oh, m-me?” Taylor’s face is flushed, pupils blown wide as he stares up at Elias from where he’s laying back on the bed. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve, uh… I’ve done this loads of times. We can… keep going.”

Elias somehow seems fooled by his words. He nods his head, one hand trailing down Taylor’s side and drawing a shudder from him. “Very well, I shall do my best. I apologise sincerely if I’m no good, however. I’ve never…” His own translucent skin darkens in embarrassment.

“Well you, uh… your kissing was… pretty good. Y’know, for a dead guy. Who’s never kissed before.” Taylor’s fingers hover over his kiss-swollen lips for a moment as he thinks back on the breathtaking make out session he’d just shared with the ghost of Elias Gallagher. You know, normal things.

Elias’ expression turns reverent for a moment, taking in Taylor with shining eyes. He leans down and settles a hesitant kiss on his lips, easing into it when Taylor gives a sound half way between a sigh and a moan. You settle back in your seat to watch, admiring blue hands gliding over Taylor’s smooth skin and pink lips separating to accommodate Elias’ shy yet eager tongue.

It's not every day you get to see something like this. A ghost and a human locking lips. Nor is it every day that you get to walk two cute virgins through their first time. Though, you must confess you have thought often about how good Taylor would look all spread out on a bed like this, flushed with arousal and trying to hide his hard cock with one hand.

As much as you could watch this all day—Elias’ hands tentatively exploring Taylor’s naked body—you do want to show Elias the full range of pleasure there is to be experienced. Just thinking about the repression he was raised with makes your heart ache for him. The poor man hardly seems to have so much as touched himself before…

You can tell how needy he is. His cock rubs against Taylor’s thigh, soft shuddering moans muffled by the kiss. You grab the bottle of lube from your bag and take Elias’ hand, pressing it into his palm. He pulls away from the kiss to inspect the bottle, seeming uncertain of how to use it. It’s endearing, how little he knows. Almost as endearing as the way Taylor whimpers at the sight of the lube, cock twitching eagerly.

“Put some on your fingers. You’ll need to stretch him out, make sure he’s ready to take you. That’ll help everything go in easier.” It’s a very basic explanation, but you figure the full explanation can wait until after he’s cum for what you think might be the first time ever.

Elias uncaps the bottle and pours some over his fingers. His nose scrunches. His fingers press together and then pull apart, watching the liquid cling to his fingers. Taylor’s chest heaves as he watches, tongue laving across his chapped lips. You can tell he’s already imagining how nice those slender, nimble fingers will feel inside of him.

Elias’ free hand gently urges Taylor’s legs apart. You reach over helpfully and grab his thighs, holding them open. Elias’ fingers prod lightly at Taylor’s hole, taking in every twitch and shudder as the tip of his index finger circles his hole. Taylor’s cock is flushed, hard and dripping precum. As the very tip of Elias’ finger begins to stretch his ass, it throbs.

“Good boy…” Your hands sooth along Taylor’s thighs as Elias’ finger presses into him. “You’re doing great.”

Taylor’s hands bunch in the silky sheets, teeth digging hard into his lower lip to hold back his desperate moans. His back arches. Elias watches every reaction closely, drinking it all in and savouring it. He eases his finger back out, only to push a second one in alongside it. Taylor’s moans pitch up, catching in the back of his throat as he bares down on Elias’ fingers.

You lean over Taylor, keeping his hips pinned down as you walk Elias through the act of fingering him open. Elias is a quick learner. It isn’t long before his fingers are crooking just so to catch Taylor’s prostate, scissoring lightly every time he pulls out to help loosen the tight ring of muscles. By the time he’s prepared, Taylor is a half-delirious mess of whimpers and spasms.

“That is a good sign, isn’t it?” Elias’ lips press soothing kisses to Taylor’s sweat-drenched forehead, free hand rubbing his hips as he pulls his wet fingers out with a lewd squelch.

Taylor nods quickly, clinging to Elias’ biceps as if afraid the ghost might get cold feet and stop before he gets properly fucked. “Please, please please please…”

You give a soft laugh, taking the bottle of lube and pouring some onto Elias’ cock. “Go on, make sure it’s nice and covered. Don’t want to hurt our cutie~”

“Hurt?” Worry flashes in Elias’ eyes. “I thought this was supposed to be pleasurable…”

“It will be,” you let some lube drip onto Taylor’s twitching hole, prepping him yourself as Elias hesitantly rubs the lube across his cock. “But pleasure takes time, go too fast and it becomes pain. Not the good kind of pain, either.”

You expect Elias to be more hung up on the concept of “good pain” than he is. He simply nods and makes sure his cock is sufficiently coated in the cool, slick liquid. Taylor seems barely aware of the conversation, face flushed and panting as he squirms under Elias. So eager. So cute.

“Are you ready?” You lift Taylor’s knees, slotting them on either side of Elias. You push a pillow under his lower back to prop him up, exposing his hole even more.

Elias smiles at Taylor’s babbled pleas, nodding his head and pressing the tip of his cock against Taylor’s ass. “I believe I am. I saved myself for this moment, I’m so pleased to be sharing it with the two people I love.”

“Well, go on then.” You settle back in your seat with an expectant nod.

Elias laces his fingers with Taylor’s, pressing his hands to the mattress as he eases his cock in with a soft gasp of pleasure. It’s slow. Steady. Inch by inch sinking into Taylor’s eager hole. He gasps and arches his back, fingers tightening in Elias’ grip. The sounds they both make are heavenly. Divine whimpers and moans, equal parts arousal and amazement.

“You feel…” Elias’ forehead falls to meet Taylor’s as he finally slides home, “perfect.”

“Mmmmfuuuuck~” Taylor’s eyes flutter, panting as he gets used to the feeling of being stuffed. His hips shift a bit, trying to encourage Elias to start fucking him properly.

It doesn’t take long for Elias to figure out a steady pace. It’s sweet, slow, romantic. His lips are back on Taylor’s, swallowing every moan and whine. Taylor hitches his legs over Elias’ hips, clinging desperately to him as though worried he might stop at any moment. His fingers grasp Elias’ tightly.

Through their kisses, Elias whispers praise against Taylor’s lips. Reassurance. Love. Compliments. Rambling about how good he feels, how well he’s taking him, how much he loves him. And with every word, Taylor’s cock twitches between them, precum leaking from the tip and dripping onto his stomach.

Neither of them last long. It’s their first time, after all. You can’t forget that, with the way their lips still clumsily explore each other. Not that you’d want to, there’s something about walking them both through their first time that’s deeply satisfying. Watching them both discover the heights of pleasure they can reach with each other’s bodies.

Elias’ hips still, Taylor’s back arching as they both cum. The sound Taylor makes as he feels Elias’ cum fill him is sinful. Their hands grip each other tightly, Elias kissing all over Taylor’s face and showering him with praise and reassurance. Even for his first time, the man has the aftercare side of domination down to a science. Taylor calms down under his gentle touches, relaxing against the sheets.

Slowly, reluctantly, Elias pulls out. Taylor goes boneless against the bed, staring up at Elias with hazy, half-lidded eyes. Elias watches his cum drip slowly out of Taylor’s twitching hole in fascination. It’s cute, how in awe he seems. Like he’s never seen something quite so beautiful in his life.

“Wow…”

Taylor squirms a little, whining softly and moving to cover himself. “...sorry…”

“No!” Elias grabs his arms before he can hide himself. “No, please. Taylor… you’re incredible…”

Taylor turns his face into the pillow, giving another low whine. He’s too fucked out to talk, but he’s clearly embarrassed. Elias takes pity on him—or, perhaps, indulges himself—and flips Taylor over. His hands pull his legs apart, admiring his dripping hole from this new angle.

“Taylor I…” Elias swallows thickly. “May I try something?”

Taylor doesn’t respond for a moment, still burying his face deep in the pillows even as he obediently remains on his hands and knees for Elias. But finally, hesitantly, he nods his head. There’s another moment of silence before a soft “please” can be heard from him, muffled and desperate. His cock is already twitching again, dripping precum onto the soft sheets of the bed.

Elias takes the invitation gratefully. He leans in and buries his face between Taylor’s cheeks, tongue eagerly exploring his hole. At first he’s mostly curious about the taste of his own cum. Watching it drip down the insides of Taylor’s thighs had made it look so… appealing. But as Taylor gasps and then arches against him, Elias decides he’s much more interested in making him cum again.

His cum tastes strange on his own tongue. Not bad, just different. He licks clean Taylor’s thighs. Then laves his tongue around his hole to catch anything still dripping out. Finally, his tongue presses past the tight ring of muscles. The moan that comes from Taylor is borderline orgasmic, his thighs already shaking with pleasure.

Elias gives an answering moan, tongue delving deeper into Taylor’s ass as his hands grope at his cheeks. He can’t get enough of it, tasting himself inside Taylor. Hearing those whines and moans, the soft sobbing of overstimulation. He’d be concerned by the crying if it weren’t accompanied by babbled begging for more.

Taylor’s hand comes down to stroke himself, and Elias curiously follows suit. Wrapping his fingers around his own shaft, giving a few experimental strokes. It feels… nice. Not quite as nice as fucking Taylor had, but he now understands why you and Taylor had made such a big deal about the fact that he’d never done this before.

As he gets into the rhythm of stroking himself, he feasts on Taylor. Tongue delving deep into his hole, exploring every inch, cleaning his cum out of it diligently. Taylor’s a wreck, shaking and gasping, collapsed against the pillows with his hips only held up by Elias’ free hand. It’s beautiful. Watching your boys explore each other like this. They’re beautiful.

This time they don’t quite cum together. Cum drips down Elias’ hand as he presses his tongue deeper into Taylor. Taylor rocks his hips against Elias’ mouth, needy sounds escaping from deep in his chest. Finally, he collapses against the bed fully, cock dripping cum over the bedspread as he humps against the mattress to ride out his orgasm.

“Thank you,” Elias sits back on his heels with a pleased little smile, wiping his mouth politely on his handkerchief. “You were wonderful, Taylor.”

Taylor gives a vague hum, all but passed out on the bed. With a grin, you climb into bed next to him, pulling him into your arms. He happily nuzzles into your chest. He gropes around blindly, grabbing Elias’ bicep and dragging him into the cuddle pile as well. You fondly kiss both of your boys’ cheeks.

“You both did so well. I can’t wait to teach you more~”

[kobitoshiningneedle]

Ah yes, the 1984-86 Rokkenjima antics

[bearvamps]

Big revelations for 8 am on a Friday morning

[oozeandgoo-art]

@toniyx won you guys a post in spite of my extremely busy week, everyone go thank them for the costume-makeup blood sacrifice :D

[crowcaws]

An oldie but a goodie

[datastash]

happy birthday rak 🥳🥳🥳🥳

[naruyahaweek]

[kirihark4783948]

I'm still of the opinion that kiriona is actually more likely to be ashamed of her wounds and what they represent than to leave them exposed. Mostly cuz I like being contrarian (in a pleasant nonthreatening way) but also I think that the text supports it:

The scarf that covers her neck wound being described as "funny" implies that it looks out of place and is therefore likely only there to cover up that particular wound than for aesthetic purposes.

+

This bit is possibly just me extrapolating more than anything concrete buuut the way kiriona tries to dismiss any inquiries about her wounds with a hasty joke seems to indicate to me that she. Really doesn't want to talk about them lol. I don't think she's proud of them

+

Of course we know that most of kiriona/gideon's current appearance is determined by john. And also we don't know yet if there's any specific reason why he didn't or couldn't heal her wounds. So maybe it doesn't matter how she feels about them either way but... that's my take. We won’t know for sure until when (or if) we get gideon’s POV again but I think it’s interesting to think about.

+

Personally if I killed myself for my not-girlfriend and then an elaborate misunderstanding occurred that led to me assuming that my not-gf was actually disgusted by that action and now hates me... I would not be happy to have any physical reminders of that failed sacrifice.

[niceferatu]

they should invent an antibiotic that doesn't taste like the nastiest, most bitter stinky little morsel on gods green earth

[metaecstatic]

[Tweet from @CGEBelfast]

The International Wall on the Falls Road, West Belfast is now entirely devoted to Palestine with a dozen new murals being launched today at 1.30pm. The murals offer #SolidarityWithPalestine and condemn the #Genocide_of_Palestinians. #Cease_fire_In_Gaza_Now @ipsc48 @ipsc_derry

[doeinstinct]

madatobi change my mind

[threadsun]

JDA Asks: "LMFAO IM SO SORRY ITS JUST—

-JDA here-

The ear fingering sounds so funny to me 😭😭

Anyway what about some mask kink?"

It's really interesting to me how many people have ear-related kinks!! Like, I've been paid to do and write so many ear things!! It's a really fun area to explore imo cause it really plays with the idea of sensations and erogenous zones. But also the phrase "ear fingering" is objectively hilarious lmao

Also I wasn't sure what specific aspect of mask kink you wanted, but I can't get the idea of Doe in a gasmask out of my head now so... 👀

Content: mask kink, gas mask, fearplay, breathplay, biting, scratching, hair pulling, rough sex, dom masochist Doe, fucking nasty behind the gas station, very brief mention of snuff

There's always been something about masks.

Something about the anonymity, maybe? Or how restrictive they are?

Doe can't quite place a finger on it. But the dull, dark, hazy plastic eyes of a gas mask always makes his pulse jump. The shiny rubber. The air intake tube. The way his own breath brings a stifling humid heat to the mask.

Even fitting the mask on himself is a sensual experience. The way he has to hold the tube aside. The curl of his fingers around the rubber hood. The slow encasement of his head, the dimming of his vision, the muffling of his ears. And once it's on...

He leans back against the wall, closing his eyes and relying on his more primal senses. His skin tingles, teeth set on edge as he feels you coming out of the gas station. Your shift is over. You're finally, finally his again.

His vision is fuzzy and dim, but his hand finds its way around your arm with ease. He pulls you around the back of the gas station. He almost wishes he could hear right now. He can feel the way your breath hitches and you cry out as he presses you against the wall between two dumpsters. He can only imagine how beautiful the sound is.

One hand slips around your neck, his fingers pressing in to feel your pulse. Your fear thrills him. The way your heart pounds, the sharp staccato of your breath, the smell of your sweat coming through the tube of his mask. All of it paint the most wonderful picture of true horror. Of someone wholly unprepared for what they agreed to.

He wishes he could see the etch of terror on your face as you take in his beautiful, terrible mask. As you gaze into soulless plastic eyes and follow the trail of the disgusting black proboscis. This mosquito’s head on the body of your beloved Doe. The lifeless face compared to the lively twitching touches of his hands and body.

But all he can do is feel. And your clothes are interfering with that sense almost as much as the mask interferes with the others. He has no time for delicacy. His nails tear into your clothes, shredding them to ribbons until they fall uselessly onto the asphalt. He needs to touch you. To feel you. He needs your whole being exposed to his wandering hands.

There’s something about the sensation of you trembling under his hands, cowering back against the cold brick wall… Something about the heat and the moisture inside the mask. About the vague shadow of your body moving through the plastic lenses. About the way his own panting and moaning goes no further than a distant echo at the end of the tube.

His hands are ravenous. Making up for the way his teeth can’t sink into you and his lips can’t mark you and his nose can’t bury into your neck to smell you. They’re all he has, grabbing and squeezing, nails digging harshly into soft flesh. And every shudder, every vibration of a whimper in your chest, every prickling goosebump his fingers feel sends another thrill of delight through him.

He's not sure what makes him more light headed. The fact that you’d trusted him enough to let him enact this fantasy without giving you all the details. The way your body shivers in delightful fear as you try to remind yourself that it’s your Doe under the mask. The way his breath fills the gas mask with a warm fog…

Or maybe it’s the way your trembling hands reach down to his jeans. The way you cup his cock, gasping as he grinds his hard bulge into your palm. The way you unbutton his pants, reach through his fly, expose him to the cool air. The way your hand strokes him, with all the shaky uncertainty of one nearly paralysed with fear.

He just about has the wherewithal to remember the small bottle of lube in his pocket. The one condition you had for this otherwise unknown scene. He presses it into your hand with a sound somewhere between a huff and a growl. A sound you have to strain to hear, muffled behind the rubber mask. You just about pick up his strained command to prepare yourself for him.

He doesn’t even have the joy of watching you finger yourself open for him. Of hearing your breathy moans of his name as you lean back against the bricks and close your eyes. But he can sense it. Sense the arousal coming off you in waves, as that twisting fear in your gut turns into something hotter. As the trembling of fear turns into the trembling of excitement. As your eyes begin to take in the mask with a look of desire and lust, rather than horror and disgust.

He doesn’t need to see you or hear you. He can feel you. Can feel the way your body moves against his as you stretch yourself. Can feel the way your breath catches in your throat as you prepare to take his cock. Can feel the way your arms hook around his neck to pull him close when you’re finished, settling a kiss right where the metal ring meets the plastic breathing tube.

He wastes no time. His arms are under your thighs, hoisting you up against the wall so you can wrap your legs around his waist. His cock settles against you, pausing for a moment as you diligently coat it in cool lube. It’s such a delightful sensation. A dizzying contrast from the stifling heat of the mask.

You can just about hear his muffled groan as his cock presses into you. Inch by inch he sinks inside, stretching your hole perfectly. He feels a glimmer of… pride, perhaps. At how well you prepared yourself. Loose enough to take him with ease, yet tight enough to shudder in his arms as he fills you. Absolute perfection.

There’s a moment’s pause when he bottoms out. He just wants to appreciate the moment. The feeling of you around his cock. The deep breaths making your chest rise and fall against his. The hard wall behind you and the cold night air behind him. And, of course, the pressure of the mask. The muffling of every sensation but touch. The sparking of every point of contact between you and him.

But savouring the moment isn’t enough. His nails dig into your thighs as he bounces you on his cock. The bricks scrape against your back. He needs you. And he makes it known with every pull of your hips towards him, and every thrust of his cock into you. There’s no lack of passion—nor a lack of roughness—in the way he handles you.

And you match that passion, of course. Your nails dig into his back, teeth sinking into his shoulder to muffle your moans. You know your lovely masochist enjoys the encouragement. The way that your heels dig hard into his lower back. The way you tug at the few locks of hair poking out from the neck of the mask. The way you pull him closer and closer until you’re almost crushing him against your chest.

It's the panting that catches your attention first. It sounds so distant as he fucks you, echoing through the tube that hangs from where his mouth should be. Without thinking, your hands catch around the tube, pulling it up to look at. He’s not quite fucked you past the point of coherence. Yet.

Between mindmelting thrusts, you gain just about enough focus to notice the cap hanging off the end of the tube. It takes another few bounces on Doe’s cock before you put together what it does. It’s impulsive, really. You don’t think past the fact that you know Doe doesn’t really need to breathe. And you know he enjoys pretending he does. Especially when you’re restricting his ability to.

Doe hardly notices you slip the cap on the tube. He’s too busy admiring the way the shadow of your form moves through the plastic eyes of the mask. The rubber is clinging to his sweat-soaked skin. The whole mask is too hot, too damp, too uncomfortable. He loves it. And he loves it all the more when the small amount of ventilation coming from the tube is blocked.

His hands brace on the wall behind you, fucking you hard and fast against it as your legs tighten desperately around his waist. He doesn’t leave room for a single thought. For either of you. You’re too busy hanging on, trying to sink your teeth into any bare piece of skin to encourage him. He’s too busy chasing his orgasm and enjoying the slow depletion of oxygen in the mask.

He doesn’t need to breathe oxygen, sure. But when he’s fucking you like this, he can let himself think he’s human. Let himself think that the lack of oxygen makes him lightheaded and dizzy. That it heightens his pleasure and burns his lungs. That you control whether or not he’s allowed to breathe.

It makes him fuck you harder, desperate for both of you to cum before he runs out of air. Though, a small part of him thinks it would be the most romantic way to die. Balls deep inside you, so close he can almost imagine you’ll slip inside his skin and become one. And if anyone were to kill him, he would want it to be you.

But more than that, he wants to make you cum. To feel you shake in his arms, to feel your hole clench around him, to feel your cum dripping onto him. That’s his single-minded goal. The bricks scrape at his hands as much as they scrape at your back, the pain only encouraging his wild, rough thrusts. He needs to make you cum.

It’s a strange experience, reaching your peak as you look into the plastic eyes of the mask. Behind the dim, dark lenses you can just about make out Doe’s wide eyed, wild stare. You cling to him, unable to look away as you cum, his name on your lips. As he fucks you through your orgasm, your teeth sink once more into his shoulder, trying to help him towards his own orgasm.

Fuck does it work. Your teeth digging deep into his skin, the dizzying lack of air, the choking wet heat of the gas mask… and most of all, your body falling apart in his arms as you cum for him. There’s nothing he can do but cum deep inside of you, pressing you so hard into the wall you feel crushed.

He collapses when he’s spent, moving to lean against the wall so he can slide down to sit with you in his lap. You can tell by the way his fingers slowly knead your skin that he’s used up all his energy. With a fond smile, you set about removing the gas mask. The rubber feels odd in your hands, but it’s nice to finally see his face again. His eyes are closed. His lips are parted. He looks like he could collapse on the spot.

“Want to spend the night at my place?” You speak softly as you press gentle kisses to his damp face.

Doe nods, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you tight against him. “I’d love love love that!” His voice is sleepier than normal, slightly muffled as he buries his face in your chest.

You pout at him, running your fingers through his hair. “You’ll have to lend me your hoodie. Someone got a bit overexcited and tore my clothes.”

“How rude of them.” You can feel Doe’s wide grin against your skin, one hand releasing you just enough to squirm out of his hoodie and wrap it around you instead.

As you zip it up, you kiss the top of his head gently. “We’ll have to get up. The bus should be here soon…”

Doe whines, but reluctantly lets you drag him back to a standing position. Even as he hunches over to cuddle into your side, you’re thankful for his height. At least it means the hoodie is long enough to protect your modesty. You push the gas mask into the impossibly deep pocket, hearing the bus pull up to the stop. Getting on board, you settle into a seat, pulling Doe down to sit beside you.

As you take stock of the aching of your muscles and the scratches on your back, you can’t help but think you might grow fond of Doe’s mask.

[kobitoshiningneedle]

Coco, a witch to be!