#Various Methods of Escape

[no1cutiepatootie]

i cannot stop thinking about the alcohol world

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, husband nanami, fıngering, praise, talking you through it, squırting, dirty talk, mdni.

“don’t be shy, sweetheart. get it wet, atta girl,”

nanami would murmur right up against your ear, warm breath fanning against the shell of your earlobe. it tickles, and as you’re laid flat back against him with a few fawn strands of his chest hair brushing up near you, you whine. your legs were unapologetically spread wide open with a bundle of your toes curling up exquisitely. the back of your head rubs and rubs against his bare chest, and he’s got the softest smile. “ah ah,” he whispers, watching as your own crumped up finger buries itself into your cunt and lazily moves around. “remember the method i taught you. circle it around, yeah,” and your breathing hitches the moment the tip of your digit encircle a slippery swab of your sheeny slick. “here, let me take it from here for a bit.”

with your laced panties pulled back near the crevices of your thigh, you collapse flat against his chest. his warmth, a single moan escapes from your lips at how close he was to you. his scent, nanami’s cologne engulfs in your nostrils and it’s such a rich, citrusy aroma. “o- okay.” was all you could manage to whimper out, feeling the cold band of his g-shock ghost against your thigh.

“it’s gonna get messy, my love,” he warns you, a bit of humor in his tone — you throb, two fingers of his smear against your drooling heat and your mouth slowly dangles open. “ooh, my oh my. she’s quite the talker today huh,” he hums at the sounds of your weeping cunt - sloshing and creating various laments of squelches from his consistent rubbing before you whine. “let’s hear what she’s got to say, hm?”

“f- fuuuck.” you’d mewl out, feeling him slowly ease a finger inside of your slit. by this point, he’d taken out your finger and replaced it with his own. nanami’s pointed chin rests against your shoulder as he watches intently.

even your colorful swears sounded angelic. behind you, you could feel his dick twitch in his boxers at just the sound of your voice. already, you were soaked heavily. nanami felt like being a bit of a tease tonight though.

with one hand focusing its attention between your thighs - another creates a tantalizingly slow, trail up and down your body. his fingertips dance against your skin as he glances at you jerking and shuddering. all from his touch, he wanted to make sure to savor your body.

in a way, you were like art to him, a breathtaking canvas that was forevermore priceless.

“gimme your hand, my love,” he requests, lukewarm plush lips pressing a chaste kiss near the inside of your neck. a breeze of his minty fresh breath sets against your sinuses before you comply. as he takes ahold of your wrist, nanami makes you start a trail of your own. gradually, he’s dragging your arm further down your body, making sure your fingers get a feel of every single part of you. “nice ‘n slow, good. doin’ so good.”

a breathy pant starts to rip out of you, hauling out of your lungs abruptly and you’re panting like a dog - he’s so gentle, his words only added more fuel to the fire before you feel the brief pangs of heat between your legs intensify.

nanami’s thick finger turns into two and you let off a melodic whimper as he’s stretching your pussy open. “open for me baby, focus on those breaths,” and as you’re just sluggishly pressed up against his chest, he gives your you another kiss. this time, it’s near the top of your head. “my good girl.” he purrs, voice raspy and filthy—pouring with nothing but admirable love and affection.

it was as if a feverish, fire was bristling against your skin. it was subtle, real subtle. you sigh deeply at his two fingers leisurely prod their way inside of your accepting, gummy walls. “k- ken,” you whine out, hearing the lewd sloshing sounds of your own arousal. it’s wet, you’re wet. nanami’s still guiding you to touch yourself in a way that makes your perked nipples throb. a gentle hand firmly but sweetly grabs your wrist, having you feel right near your heaving chest. your breaths were shallow, short brief inhales coming out of you before your eyes start to roll and flicker back. “your fingers, ‘s long, ken.”

“oh, are they now?” he utters, a tender grip compressing against his pink glossed lips. “i’d hope so, they’re just the right size for my wife, are they not?”

by the second, you could feel yourself coming close. you could feel yourself reaching your inevitable, destined peak. “c’mon, big girl words. talk to me,” he shushes your sweet, babbling moans. you were speaking a good sentence of gibberish—inaudible whimpers mewling out your throat at each millisecond that passes. you’re squirming a bit in pleasure, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, creating a bite. nanami then slides his slender fingers out so you could do the rest. you whine, trying to copy his method. your digits slickly coat and drip against the outer part of your cunt before sliding your fingers in. huffing, you feel a pulsating pulse near your aching labia. “how’s it make you feel, sweetheart. feel good?”

“feels good, ‘ken,” you puff out a single exhale in dry, irregular breaths. you felt your own slick stick against your pried open legs like glue. it was a mess indeed, and before you knew it, you were right there. “kento, finish for me, please p-pleaseee.”

“but my love,” he hums a dulcet tune against your ear, your thigh tapping and tapping in anticipation. it’s a salty taste pouring into your mouth but as the seconds progress, it’s turns sweet,

bittersweet.

the filthy, moist squelches became so loud that it starts to echo through the thin walls of your cozy, homey residence. “you’re supposed to be doin’ this, not me. ‘m just showing you how.”

letting off a near pornographic moan—you were cut off the minute your fingers thrash against your g-spot. your noises made him hard, so whiny and pleasing to the human ear. once you feel the twitching muscle, it’s soft and hollow with a squishy surface, scratching such an orgasmic itch in your brain. you could barely even form words with how dumb you were right now. “right there ‘ken. i feel something.”

“keep feeling there, baby. ‘s okay,” he holds you from behind, feeling your body continue to slump back against his chest. your legs vigorously shake like an earthquake - its intensity was jittering you to your wits end. with two eager fingers swirling around the insides of your needy cunt, your jaw drops. a pocket seed of ecstasy welts and surges all through you. as he grabs your wrist again, nanami’s helping you finger yourself with your entire wrist — helping you do a bowling ball grip with two fingers. two stuffed inside, the others just being idle. it felt so good, you weren’t gonna last a second longer by this point. “you’re so close, sweetheart. use those pretty fingers, mhm. so close, make a mess on me, make a mess on your husband so i can clear you right up.”

a pitched ringing sound goes in your ears and right back out. as you’re zealously twitching from the touch, the stimulation, you let off yet another long, pitched moan. it’s a lengthy moan, nowhere near short.

you elongate a single syllable and lasts it for a good four seconds until you realize you’re cumming. one wave comes, then two, then three until everything’s all crashing down on you.

“k- kento,” you whimper, feeling your digits tangle up inside and get soaked from top to bottom with your honeyed slick. but it doesn’t stop there, in fact, once you look down, not only were you coming undone but you were also gushing out. it sprays, a translucent splashing tint dampens against the satin ruby sheets and nanami simpers. “oh my g- goddd.”

he feels your soddened rapture pouring all out, electricity like currents traversing all throughout your body and you grow limp. “aw,” he speaks first, seeing how your climax took everything out of you. nanami brings a hand down between your legs, a thumb swiping against your swollen cunt before he smears your juices right on your entrance. “my messy girl, did you just squirt on me?”

you don’t reply—your breathy, shaky moans being your answer and a hand of yours squeezes his wrist. it’s so many nerves, a bundle of them being touched and convulsed strike right within you before he kisses the top of your head. “seems like my wifey’s a little squirter after all,” he purrs once more, his voice as smooth as silk. as nanami slowly makes you pull out your filth covered fingers, a cobwebby string of lustrous gloss runs off from the tips of your fingers. “look at this,” he grabs your wrist, holding it up in front of you before he does what you’d last expect.

nanami gingerly wraps a hand around your wrist, inching it toward his face before he pops two of your slippery slick digits into his mouth. he groans at your cherry sweet taste - making sure to savor and relish the toothsome flavor before his tongue curls around your fingers.

“mhm,” and as he’s sucking on your digits to clean them just like he said, you could feel yourself throbbing again. once nanami finally removes his mouth from your two wet fingers, he lowly chuckles against your ear. “such a good girl,” he praises you one last time before getting his own fingers wet, wiping them both near your sopping clit. “let’s do that again. now spread these gorgeous legs wide again for me, my love. gotta get my wife just a little bit wetter.”

[fading-event-608]

Help Falstin's family survive and escape genocide in Gaza and win hand-made Palestinian thob!

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A Palestinian thob made by Palestinian hands, tailored for you. Thobes are traditional dresses worn in Palestine and are embroidered with tatreez patterns of various colors (usually mainly red) on black cloth - you can see the example in the poster.

Who will you help?

24 people trapped in Gaza who desperately need funds for their survival and evacuation. Falastin's family already has a lot of martyrs and they were displaced more than 20 times leaving them with very little possessions. It has been extremely hard for them to meet their basic needs, and they need all the help they can get to purchase food, water and medicine (which are incredibly expensive as there is very little aid entering Gaza) as well as shelter, fuel and clothing as it's getting cold.

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Only donations done after the raffle start (October 19th, since making this post) will count for entries. Additionally, every three weeks starting from today, one winner will be chosen and all entries for that period will be reset. The winner will be given 48 hours to respond and if they do not then we will choose another one from that time period.

Dates for raffle resets:

1) 9th of November - first winner 2) 30th of November - second winner 3) 21st of December - third winner

The winner announcement will be done on those Saturdays at 15:00 (3 PM) GMT (that's 10 AM EST).

Right now we are a little over 12k USD (counting both PayPal and Gofundme) but most of it came in the last several weeks. So we aim to get another 12k USD/126k SEK (again both PayPal and Gofundme) by the end of the first raffle round.

You can enter as many times as you want and can stack entries over time (so one 2000 SEK donation will be 4 entries, or two donations 75 USD and 25 USD will count as 2 entries). Because there will be 3 rotations, if your donations fall short of the minimum donation in the first/second rounds, you can still qualify for the next until your total exceeds the entry cost. For example, if you donated 40 USD in the first rotation you will not enter the first raffle round but can still enter second one if you donate another 10 USD. Another example: if you donated 120 USD in the first time period you can donate another 30 in the next one for one entry. You can enter second or third time even if you won previously.

After you have made the donation(s) required for at least one entry you need to fill out the form: [link]. You will be asked to provide a proof of your donation, your email address (or discord handle) and (optionally) Tumblr/Instagram username. An email address or Discord is required for contact purposes, as there is a possibility that either me of Falastin could be restricted or suspended on Tumblr, but we will contact you on your preferred platform if we can.

One thob will roughly take 3 weeks to complete so please be patient - you will be contacted by your preferred method for any questions after you won and when the shipment starts.

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You also need to be comfortable with sharing following info with us privately if if you win the raffle:

address and name for the shipment;

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You can ask any questions me here on Tumblr or send an email to fadingevent608@proton.me.

Vetting info: #282 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [here], #957 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [here] Falastin's account: [link]

Donation links again:

GOFUNDME:

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[psychotrenny]

It's really funny when people try to defend various forms of esoteric/"alternative" bullshit by saying like "we need magic because science is misogynist". Because that last part isn't totally wrong; even application of the scientific method doesn't create total objectivity and so the body of scientifically determined knowledge is frequently distorted by the oppressive ideologies of broader society. Like misogyny in science is a serious issue that needs to be addressed, but you can't address it by rejecting the scientific method itself. Especially because misogyny is a much broader problem, and it affects plenty of other bodies of knowledge. Including you know; the very esoteric bullshit people are trying to defend. Describing women as inherent homemakers doesn't get any better when you're justifying it as "Divine Feminine" rather than "Maternal Instinct". You are not escaping misogyny with Astrology

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Invasion

Cat Man Alien Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: Painful noncon, reader gets smacked, biting, collaring, owner/pet, pet reader, reader tied up, reader is an idiot, alien invasion, shapeshifting, general yandere behavior

Word Count: 1.2k

(Popped into my head, finished at 2-3am this morning, hope you all like it. Please leave comments and consider tipping to support the senior's bake sale, I love you all <3)

Twiggy was a rescue. He had been brought into the animal shelter you worked at and was pretty injured. Once he was nursed back to health, you immediately adopted him.

He was a bit standoffish, even by cat standards, but he slowly seemed to tolerate you. Then, almost actually like you. It's like he would enjoy affection and then catch himself and hiss before running off.

Even though you made sure never to let him outside, he always seemed to get out anyway, mostly in the dead of night. 

In an effort to discover just how he was escaping, you set up cameras. But they always ended up knocked down or broken before catching anything. Then you put a cat cam on him, but every night, he would fling it off after you went to sleep.

You had enough. It was getting creepy. You decided you would follow him. He never tried to leave while you were awake, though, so you had to pretend to sleep. 

The sound of the door could very faintly be heard closing, so you got up silently and slunk into the living room.

Astonished, you looked at the door. It had been unlocked, and Twiggy was missing. He had somehow figured out how to open doors. It wasn't entirely unheard of for a cat to manage a door handle, but the lock?

You quietly left the building and saw Twiggy moving with purpose down the road.

After a while, you thought yourself stupid. He was just going to do random cat stuff. Why were you following him? He probably just smelled something that gripped his attention.

But as he kept going through various alleys and back roads, a few other cats joined him without any reaction from him. They proceeded in orderly and determined fashion right into the old abandoned factory. 

You followed and had to hold back a gasp at what you saw. Down in the basement level was Twiggy standing on a pile of scrap with dozens of other cats gathering below him.

It was some sort of cat cult. 

But if you thought that was shocking, you hadn't seen anything yet. Suddenly, Twiggy effortlessly shifted into a nude man with curly brown hair, a tail, and cat ears on his head.

After he transformed, all the others did the same. The room was filled with naked men and women with tails and cat ears. This was getting too weird. The best course of action now was to make a silent retreat.

As you began to back away, Twiggy pointed in your direction and stated something you were too far to really hear.

In a flash, the cat people were upon you, dragging you over to Twiggy and forcing you to kneel before him before they tied you up and gagged you so you couldn't speak. 

He addressed the others without sparing a glance at you. 

"I infiltrated this human's place of employment and then their home." 

He stroked your hair in a manner similar to the way you would pet him in his cat form. 

"I have learned that we can use their workplace as a front and get adopted as their pets. We will use this method to infiltrate every home before taking over and turning humans into OUR pets!"

Twiggy turned to an androgynous looking cat person.

"River, I need you to take the form of this human and work at the shelter as we discussed at the last meeting. Come over tomorrow to my human's house, and I'll give you the schedule."

River nodded in affirmation.

After that, the meeting came to an end, and Twiggy dismissed the others. He pulled the gag off of you and allowed you to speak.

"Twiggy, w-what's go-"

The cat man smacked you harshly. It left an echo resounding through the large empty room. 

"That's a gross pet name. My real name is Declan."

You whimpered and then flinched when he pet the spot he had smacked gingerly. 

"Sorry, I shouldn't have hurt you, you didn't know… You probably have lots of questions."

Of course, you had questions. And Twig- Declan… answered every one of them patiently. 

He explained that the cat people were aliens who just happened to have a form that looked like a common earth house pet. They could also look like any human they wanted, though they had to hide their feline features. He was the leader. And now that you were aware of everything, you got to be the first pet. His personal one. He promised to treat you well.

After the Q&A, he put on some clothes he had and took you back to what was no longer your house. He put your gag back in so you couldn't scream on the way.

True to his word, he treated you like a precious pampered pet, since you had helped heal him and took such good care of him. He even gave you a jeweled collar for you to wear as proof he owned and cared for you.

Though he had started to care about you in ways that he probably shouldn't have.

But after a while, he couldn't help it anymore. One night when your head was laying on his lap while the two of you watched a show he liked, something he forced you to do as he stroked your arm and side, his cock stirred under your head, and he had to give in.

He stripped you of all your clothes; you struggled and protested, but his strong, lean body easily overpowered your own.

He pulled off your collar and bit your neck hard to get you to submit as he mounted you, before shoving his cock in you deeply all at once with no preparation. 

The cat man fucked into you ferally, going off pure instinct, pushing your head into the couch cushion so no one could hear your screams.

You were sure you were going to die, that you were going to be split apart by his girthy cock, that the last things you would hear were your muffled screams, the sound of his nuts slamming into you, and his animalistic growls.

Declan's cock pistoned in and out roughly as tears streamed down your face. You felt a sense of shame as he forced you to orgasm despite the cruelty of the way he was violating you.

It wasn't enough that he took your house, job, and way of life and eventually would take your planet, but now he was claiming your insides with his throbbing cock as well.

He came in you roughly and finally seemed to gradually come back to his senses. He licked away your tears and the blood and cum that were mingled and leaking from your hole.

"I'm so sorry, I just couldn't help myself! I'll be more gentle and use lube next time, okay?"

The cat man comforted you as best he could, bathing you as you sobbed. He sincerely regretted hurting you, but he couldn't deny his instincts and really needed some release. Going forward, he decided you would be his mate as well as his pet, so he didn't go wild with pent-up emotions again. 

[rika-mmendmethings]

Belly Dance | Sylus

Summary: Sylus unearths a college-era belly dancing outfit during your move-in to his house. After you reluctantly agree to perform, his awe and love help you rediscover the fun, confident person you were. The night ends in passion and sensuality as Sylus shows you just how beautiful you have always been.

Tag(s): belly dancer! Reader x bf! Sylus, written with a female reader in mind, fluff, sensuality, mildly suggestive, fade to black, insecurities, kinda au idk???

Word count: 3.3k

Now playing: Beautiful Liar by Beyoncé and Shakira

Notes: Got suggested a few reels of absolutely gorgeous women belly dancing on this song, and the rest was history. Writing this was less of a pain since I'm quite adapted to writing for Sylus. Hopefully you enjoy reading this as well ♥

The apartment was filled with the soft rustling of cardboard as the task of moving into Sylus’s place stretched into its third hour. The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting long, lazy shadows across the wooden floors. You stood among a sea of cardboard boxes, surrounded by the mismatched chaos of your things — clothes, books, framed photos, knick-knacks from various places you'd lived, and little trinkets that each carried a memory. Today was the day you were officially moving in with Sylus, and as you carefully unpacked your things, you felt a wave of excitement mixed with a touch of nervousness. The air smelled faintly of lavender from the air fresheners Sylus had placed.

Sylus was behind you, moving about with an easy grace, methodically folding your clothes and putting them in drawers. You glanced around. The place was mostly empty, save for a few scattered boxes and the odd piece of furniture — most of the bigger pieces had already been moved in. You were mentally running through the checklist in your head that you didn’t even notice Sylus calling out to you at first, his voice cutting through the quiet atmosphere.

“Sweetie, what’s this?” he asked, the words laced with surprise and curiosity.

His voice was tinged with amusement, and you could tell he was holding something up, clearly intrigued by whatever he'd just unearthed. You didn’t turn to look right away. Instead, you lifted a box of your own, checking the contents as you sorted them into piles. You were so engrossed in organizing everything just so that you didn’t quite register the change in his tone until he continued.

“It’s... beautiful,” he said, his voice sounding almost reverent now.

At that, you turned around fully, a frown already forming on your face, only to freeze in your tracks when you saw what he was holding. In his hands, Sylus was gently lifting a belly dancing outfit — a stunning set of rich, maroon fabric adorned with delicate gold beads and sequins that glittered faintly in the light. It was the outfit you had bought years ago for a silly bet you’d lost with your friends back in college, and one you hadn’t thought about in months. The top, a halter-style design, was made to hug the contours of the body, while the skirt was sheer and flowing, the kind that danced with every twist of the hips.

You didn’t even realize you’d already taken a step toward him until you were dashing across the room, a gasp escaping you. “Sylus, no!” you half-laughed, half-scolded as you stretched out your arms to grab the shimmering material. But of course, he was much taller than you, and the outfit was far out of your reach, held high above his head. His smile spread even further, amused by your quick reaction, and he stepped back just enough to keep you from grabbing it.

He laughed, the sound deep and rich, and with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, he danced out of your reach once more. “I don’t know... this is really pretty,” he taunted, inspecting the outfit more closely. “I’m just surprised I’ve never seen it before. Do you belly dance?”

You froze mid-step, eyes widening, and your body tensed instinctively as you registered his words. His Cheshire smile was widening, and there was something undeniably playful in his gaze. You blinked twice, unable to form words for a moment, before you quickly crossed the room to stand in front of him, hands on your hips in an exaggerated motion of mock annoyance.

“Give that back!” you demanded, your voice thick with embarrassment. The red in your cheeks gave away how flustered you were, and you reached up again, trying to snatch it away, but to no avail.

He tilted his head, watching you with an utterly delighted expression, clearly enjoying this moment far more than he had any right to. “What’s the story behind this?” he asked, his voice dropping just enough to give it a soft, teasing lilt. “You never told me you belly danced.”

You exhaled in frustration, biting the inside of your cheek, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You stood there for a long moment, your hands still raised in a half-attempted grab. There was no escaping this now. You might as well come clean.

“Fine,” you said, rolling your eyes as you put your hands down, your expression melting into something more sheepish. “You really want to know?”

Sylus nodded eagerly, a smirk still dancing on his lips as he waited. His face was playful, but there was an underlying sincerity in his gaze, as though he genuinely wanted to understand.

You let out a sigh, feeling both embarrassed and strangely warm from the look in his eyes. “Okay, okay,” you began, your voice a little quieter now, “In my final year of college, my friends and I were part of a small group — a little clique. We were always making silly bets and pranks on each other. Anyway, we were having this trivia contest one weekend, and I lost too. So, the bet was that I, along with the other girls who lost, had to join this belly dancing club at the local community center.”

Sylus mused. “Belly dancing?”

“Yep.” You grinned sheepishly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It was a two-month program. We had to go to lessons every week. I won’t lie, at first, we were all ridiculously self-conscious and awful, but after a while... It was actually kinda fun. There was this one friend of mine who was so into it, and she got us all hyped up.”

You paused, lost in the memory. It had been such an unexpectedly fun experience. “Anyway, after the program ended, one of the girls threw this huge sleepover at her house. We all decided to bring our glittery outfits — because, why not? We were all completely drunk on the fun of the whole thing, and we danced around like idiots, trying to outdo each other. It wasn’t... it wasn’t a great performance or anything, but it was hilarious and a good souvenir from my final year.”

You trailed off, a soft smile on your lips as you looked at Sylus, who had been listening intently, his face unreadable for a few moments as he mulled over your words. The silence in the room felt different now, charged, full of something unspoken. His gaze was thoughtful as he met yours, fingers gently toying with the fabric of the outfit in his hands.

Finally, Sylus spoke again, his voice quiet but filled with something that caught your attention. He spoke with a slight request, a softness that seemed hesitant. “So, um...” His voice trailed off as his gaze softened. “Could you... show me?”

You blinked, stunned. “Show you?” The words left your mouth before you even processed them. You rubbed your arm, heat flaring up in your cheeks. The thought of dancing in front of Sylus, of him watching you — in the way that made you all hot and bothered — was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

You hesitated, biting your lip, but then you saw it — the pleading look in his eyes, the way his lips curved into a small pout. The effect was immediate. It was so uncharacteristically adorable that you found yourself melting, despite the nervous flutter in your nerves. You never stood a chance.

“You really want me to?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, though your voice betrayed you.

“I’m not going to... be good. It’s been years since I last danced,” you muttered, crossing your arms defensively.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” Sylus said, his voice so soft now, almost coaxing, “Besides, I personally think that you’d be my Shakira.”

You let out a laugh at that but inwardly melted at his sincerity. “Okay, fine.”

As you stepped into the bathroom to change, the soft click of the door closing behind you did little to block out the swirl of critical thoughts rushing through your mind.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a long moment before slipping into the outfit. As you pulled the top over your shoulders, you couldn’t help but notice how the fabric felt tighter across your chest, how the waistband of the skirt sat differently on your hips. You tugged at the fabric, trying to adjust it as though that might make it fit just like it did in those carefree days. But it didn’t. The outfit was a little snugger now, and that familiar feeling of unease began to creep in.

You bit your lip, studying yourself more intently. Your reflection seemed foreign, as though it didn’t belong in the same outfit you’d worn just a few years ago. This isn’t how it used to look. You felt the uncomfortable weight of your own self-doubt creeping in, clouding the excitement that had originally made you agree to Sylus’s request.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open startled you, and you turned quickly. Sylus was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The moment his gaze landed on you, your stomach twisted. You were still caught in your spiral of self-doubt, suddenly feeling too exposed in front of him. His eyes moved over you slowly, taking in the fabric of the outfit, the shimmer of the beads catching the light.

"You look stunning," he said, his voice quiet, but steady.

You crossed your arms over your chest, awkwardly, almost like you were trying to hide yourself. You couldn’t help it; the words still felt distant, not quite convincing enough. "It... doesn’t fit like it used to," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, like the words themselves might shatter the fragile confidence you were trying to hold onto. "I— I don’t know... I don’t look the same anymore."

He took a slow step toward you, his movements easy, as if he were already certain of what he wanted to say — and for a moment, it calmed the frantic chatter in your mind. You felt your breath catch when his hands reached out, gently pushing your arms away from your body. He gently lifted your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his.

“You know," he said softly, "it doesn’t matter how it used to fit. You look beautiful. You always look beautiful.”

His eyes, warm and steady, never wavered from yours as he continued, “The outfit doesn’t define you. You define it. You always have.”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing, the lingering doubts still tugging at you. “But I—” you began, but Sylus cut you off with a gentle shake of his head, his thumb softly brushing against your chin.

“You’re perfect the way you are,” he said, the words carrying an undeniable sincerity that stopped you in your tracks. “Nothing has changed about how amazing you are. The body you have now? It’s the one I fell in love with. And I’m telling you, the way you move your curves in that outfit...” He let out a soft chuckle, eyes twinkling with affection. “It’s gonna be ten times better than before, I promise.”

His words were so simple, but there was such undeniable truth to them. The self-consciousness that had taken root in your chest slowly started to loosen, replaced by a warm sense of reassurance. Sylus wasn’t looking at you with the same judgmental gaze you feared; he was seeing you beyond the nerves and self-doubt, straight to the person you were, right there, in front of him.

With a deep breath, you let your arms fall to your sides, as the last traces of doubt melted away. His words had broken through that negative cloud hanging over you, and you realized he wasn’t seeing what you saw when you looked at yourself. He wasn’t comparing you to anyone or anything, least of all some distant, youthful version of yourself.

You took a steadying breath and finally gave him a smile, one that was small but full of gratitude. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.”

Sylus’s grin broke wide across his face, the warmth in his eyes making your heart skip a beat. “That’s my girl,” he said, stepping back to give you some space. “I’m going to wait for the show.”

When you emerged a few minutes after him, Sylus was waiting on the bed, looking up at you with such anticipation that you couldn’t help but feel your heart stuttering. His eyes traced the delicate beads that shimmered along the top of the outfit, the way the skirt swayed as you moved. His gaze was so full of admiration that it made you feel almost weightless.

The first few seconds of music you had set filled the room, and you closed your eyes, letting the sound settle into your bones. You took a breath and rolled your shoulders, letting your hips follow the flow.

And then — you began.

Your arms rose slowly, your wrists circling with delicate precision as you stepped lightly into the center of the room. The maroon fabric swayed around your legs as your body moved in time with the music. Your hips rolled with practiced, fluid ease — slow at first, teasingly graceful — before picking up the rhythm in waves, each movement melting into the next like silk.

You could feel his eyes on you, heavy and electric, and the weight of his attention made your skin tingle with awareness. Every time you dared to sneak a glance at him, your heart jumped.

He looked completely, utterly undone.

Sylus was frozen where he sat, his hands now curled slightly on his thighs, his lips parted as if he’d meant to say something but had forgotten how. A faint flush had risen high on his cheeks and spilled down his neck, staining his skin a soft rose. His jaw flexed once, but still — no words. Just him, utterly transfixed.

His gaze followed the sway of your torso, the flick of your fingers, the arch of your back as you turned. You dipped your chin coyly, catching him again in a quick glance — and that time, you saw the way his throat bobbed with a hard swallow, his breath coming more shallow now. One of his hands had gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white.

He was mesmerized.

The confidence he’d planted in you just minutes earlier was blooming now, unfurling with every step, every isolated roll of your stomach, every beat that your body translated into movement. You weren’t just dancing to entertain him. You were dancing because it felt good to be seen again. To be desired exactly as you were. To feel alive inside your own skin.

The music faded into a soft echo, and you stood in your final pose, chest rising and falling delicately with your breath, the air thick between you and Sylus. You let the silence linger for just a heartbeat longer before taking a slow step forward.

Then another.

His gaze tracked every inch of you like a man possessed.

You walked with a purposeful sway, letting your hips roll just a little more exaggeratedly than necessary, enjoying the soft jingle of the beads at your waist. You stopped just in front of him, his knees between yours, your fingertips trailing lightly up the side of his jaw, testing him.

Sylus tilted his face into your touch, but he still didn’t speak. His pupils were fully dilated, and the way he licked his lips made heat bloom low in your nether regions. He looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to worship you or pull you into him and never let go.

You leaned in close, your lips barely brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered, voice soft, “You’re staring.”

His breath hitched. “Can you blame me?”

A slow smile curled across your lips. You didn’t say anything. Instead, you leaned back just enough to let him see the glint in your eyes before you took a half-step closer and eased onto his lap.

Sylus went completely still beneath you, his hands hovering instinctively at your sides like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you yet. You sat sideways, one leg hooked over his, the skirt of your costume falling open just enough to show the stretch of your thighs. Your fingertips toyed with the fabric at your own hip, the corner of your mouth lifting playfully.

You tilted your head, your voice lowering to a purr. “Did I drive you crazy, huh?”

Sylus leaned in, his nose brushing the line of your jaw, lips ghosting your ear as he whispered, “Absolutely.”

His hands found their place now, sliding around your waist with a reverent kind of slowness, thumbs brushing your bare skin where the top met the curve of your belly. You laughed softly, letting your fingers slide through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You let out a startled sound — a breathy half-gasp, half-laugh — as Sylus suddenly flips you onto your back with such fluidity it leaves your head spinning, causing the maroon fabric of your skirt to fan out around you like a pool of molten silk, catching the soft light, shimmering with the motion. He’s above you now, propped up on his forearms, his body warm and solid over yours, his eyes shining with a mix of lust and unmistakable tenderness.

Your laughter dies down into a soft hum as you meet his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you speak. You feel the weight of his stare, not possessive, but present, grounding you in the moment like nothing else ever had.

Then, his hands slowly begin to move, skimming along the maroon fabric that clings to your body, fingers light and reverent. “What a pretty dress,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with awe before his sanguine eyes flicker up to you. You smile at the compliment, but it’s what he says next that truly knocks the breath from your lungs.

“And what a prettier you.”

You can’t help the way your breath catches again, how you instinctively roll your eyes, embarrassed but secretly delighted. A blush surges hot up your neck, and you bite your lower lip in a bashful attempt to temper your reaction, but it’s useless — he sees right through you. And judging by the soft, crooked grin on his face, he likes that he can still surprise you.

Before you can even gather a response, Sylus moves — shifts lower, slower, with deliberate care — and plants the softest kiss on your ankle. Your breath hitches again. Then another kiss, just above it. He works his way upward, mouth brushing along your calf, your knee, your inner thigh — lingering longer, his stubble grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp softly and squirm beneath him.

He continues with an almost worshipful focus, trailing higher still, the kisses dotting your soft belly now. He works his way up to your ribs, your shoulders, then along the delicate curve of your collarbone. You’re giggling now, high and breathy, unable to stop yourself, both from the ticklish trail of his mouth and the sheer overwhelming affection of it all. His kisses turn playful along your jaw, your cheeks, the tip of your nose — until finally, finally — his lips brush yours.

It starts as the softest kiss — just a whisper of contact. Then another. And then a deeper one, as though he’s trying to pour everything he feels into that single moment. His hand cradles the side of your face, thumb stroking gently against your cheekbone. When he pulls back — just enough to breathe — you're a kind of giddy that comes from being loved so thoroughly it leaves no room for doubt. You blink up at him, trying to gather yourself, but all that spills out is a shaky laugh as you cover your face with your hands.

You peek at him from behind your hands after a while, unable to stop smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

Sylus grins down at you, before wrapping your legs around his waist. You instantly pick up on his intentions and tease, “We were supposed to unpack.”

“Later, sweetie.” He murmurs, nudging your nose with his, “Let me have you for now.”

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

[lyvhie]

oh, you're learning, father | lmk

priest!mark x fem!reader (18+ mdni)

summary: mark is determined to make you feel as good as you always made him feel.

cw: this is a continuation of 'forgive me, father' but can be read separately, oral (f), fingering, it has fewer religious themes than the previous one, pet names.

a/n: your wish is my command, here it is part 2 for you babies 😚

since the day you had first lured him into your seductive web, mark and you had been engaged in a secret, sinful affair. rather than feeling remorse, he reveled in the forbidden pleasure of your company.

he maintained his role as a priest, as he held a deep affinity for his position. he had devoted his existence to it, so it was not unexpected that he chose to preserve his work. but in the depths of his consciousness, he acknowledged that he was transgressing against his faith.

but he couldn't help it, not even if he tried he could get away from you, at least not now. it was so good to spend the night by your side, he always found himself leaving relaxed both physically and emotionally after a meet with you, each encounter a new, thrilling experience.

still, there was something that started to bother him; you were the one who always took the lead and made him dizzy with pleasure, truly faithful to your promise to make him cum in every way possible. don't get him wrong, he doesn't hate it, quite the opposite, it's always a delightful experience. however, he wanted to do more for you, he needed you to enjoy the moment as much as he did. your enjoyment was very important to him.

mark sat in the adjoining room, waiting patiently for you to finish your shower, his mind filled with determination and anticipation. for days, he had immersed himself in research, exploring different possibilities and methods to bring you to the pinnacle of pleasure.

armed with the knowledge he had gathered from articles, forums, and various resources, mark was determined to make this encounter exceptional in every way. he vowed to himself that he would leave no stone unturned.

he was deeply engrossed in his reading material, intently concentrating on the article titled "three ways to make your partner cum." he was so absorbed in his research that he didn't register the sound of the shower coming to a halt or the bathroom door opening.

“what are you doing?” mark, taken by surprise, flinched at the sudden sound of your voice, his phone slipping out of his grip and onto the bed. his eyes darted up, finding you standing at the edge of the bed. he quickly tried to cover his nervousness with a casual smile.

"oh, nothing much," he said, his voice just a touch hurried, making you raise your eyebrows.

"did you know you are like, the worst person ever at telling a lie, mark?" you teased, an amused smile gracing your features as you crawled up the bed towards him. his arms instinctively opened, welcoming you into his embrace.

“well," he chuckled sheepishly, his hands gently wrapping around your waist. “i guess that's what happens when you spend most of your life preaching honesty and confessional secrets.”

you laughed at his words, leaning to capture his lips into a gentle kiss, his arms wrapping around you in a tender embrace. he was keenly aware that he didn't need to resort to falsehoods when it came to his lack of experience in the bedroom, as he knew you were understanding and patient with him.

he had noticed your careful and caring demeanor towards him, despite the wild tendencies you displayed in the heat of passion. it was precisely these qualities of yours that made him feel at ease in your presence.

he hummed against your lips as he felt your hand slide under his shirt and caress his bare skin, his body responding with a small shiver when your nails grazed his abdomen. it was crazy how he could never grow weary of your touch.

as the kiss became more heated, he felt his own body getting hot, a soft gasp escaping his lips when your hand found his bulge over his pants. for a moment, he was tempted to surrender to your dominance, relishing the familiar sensation of being at your mercy. however, this time, he halted your movement by gently clutching your hand and breaking the kiss.

“what, baby?” a confused look on your face as your hand reached to caress his cheek. he melted into your touch, his heart skipping a beat as you called him that pet name. he couldn't help but admire how a simple word could make him feel so content. “are you not in the mood? we can't stop here.”

he shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "no, it’s not that," he reassured you. "i'm definitely in the mood. i just... have something i want to try with you.”

the curiosity in your eyes sparkled as your hear his word. with a small tilt of your head, you responded, "oh, really?" your brows raising slightly. "and what do you want to try?"

mark hesitated for a moment, biting his lower lip before continuing to speak. "can i... can i eat you out, please?"

“oh.”

each night of sex with mark was a fun experience, you really enjoyed fucking him. you usually always focused on his pleasure, he was so responsive, so easy to please. a simple hickey on his neck was enough to make him melt for you, and you never got tired of those reactions from him.

but a change of pace was always welcome, and you couldn't, and in no way did you want to, deny such a cute request.

“of course, mark!” you laughed at how nervous he seemed to be asking that, but your answer made his face lighten up and relax. “do you know how to do it?”

"i-i’ve been... researching.”

"like... watching porn or something?"

“no…” he looked away from you, his face getting red.

“oh god… you tried it on someone else?”

“what?! no!” he replied quickly, shaking his head urgently. “no, i would never—” he stopped mid-sentence when he heard you laughing, soon realizing that you were just teasing him.

“you're so cute,” you chuckled, squishing his cheeks together and earning a roll of his eyes in response.

he let out a sigh, still feeling the need to explain himself even though he knew you were just teasing him before. "i did watch a few videos," he admitted, his tone slightly sheepish. "but it was mostly reading….”

you hummed in understanding, a small smirk playing on your lips. "alright, i’m curious to see what this dedicated student has learned," you teased.

mark swallowed a lump in his throat, taking a deep breath. “okay,” it was finally time to put his theoretical knowledge into practice.

mark shifted his position, maneuvering you so that you were now lying down with your head slightly raised with the help of a pillow. you didn't know if he purposefully wanted to make sure you had a good view of him as he began his task.

he awkwardly positioned himself over you, his lips eagerly seeking yours in a passionate and gentle kiss. his tongue slipped past your lips, hungrily exploring and mapping out every inch of your mouth. it was something you had noticed about him — he really loved to kiss you. you had no doubt that you could make him cum with just one make-out session.

mark's hands found the rope of your robe, easily unfurling it to reveal your bare body beneath. he pulled away from the kiss, gasping for breath, before moving his lips to your jaw and continuing downward to your neck. he relished in the sounds of your soft sighs and the way you arched your neck, providing him with more access. he gently sucked and nipped at your skin, leaving a trail of love bites, each one followed by a soothing kiss.

he had read that foreplay was an effective way to build anticipation, and he wholeheartedly agreed. it was something he had experienced firsthand with you. when you did that with him, it was all more satisfying when it came to the main act.

mark's hands roamed over your body, gently cupping your breasts and giving them a light squeeze before continuing their journey. they moved down to caress your sides, eventually coming to rest on your hips, his touch leaving a trail of tingles in its wake.

mark began to move down your body, his lips planting soft, lingering kisses along the way. with each kiss, he inched further down, eventually reaching between your legs. the sight of your glistening pussy making he whimper softly.

his lips pressed against your inner thighs, creating a trail of gentle kisses as he moved closer and closer to your core. you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

mark quickly moved towards the main attraction, aware that prolonging the wait too much could become monotonous. he had learned that there was a certain balance to be maintained to ensure maximum enjoyment and pleasure.

the first gentle lick of mark's tongue against your pussy drew a soft gasp from your lips. your surprised response served as encouragement for him to continue. eager to please, he wrapped his arms around your thighs, firmly pulling you closer so that his mouth was perfectly aligned with you.

with more confidence, his tongue roamed through your slick folds, collecting that sweet, stick fluid that made him hum in satisfaction, the pleasant vibrations eliciting a soft moan from you. mark eagerly buried his face between your legs, his tongue sliding along your slit with growing confidence.

he closed his eyes as he kept devouring you, his tongue circled your clit, teasing it, before sucking it into his mouth. your hands found its way to his hair, your fingers tangling between his strands tightly as you pressed him against you even more.

mark pulled away for a briefly to look up at you, his chin glistening with your juices and his face flushed. “am i doing it r—” you cut him off by firmly guiding him back to his task. "fuck, don't stop, mark," you hissed, rocking your hips against his face, moaning when his tongue started to fuck you again, licking and flicking at your heated flesh.

you arched your back and squeezed your thighs around his head, your breath coming in sharp gasps. your moans served as a measure of his abilities, and he could tell that he was doing well because your sounds were becoming increasingly louder. he doubled his efforts, eating you like you were the most delicious meal he's ever had — and it probably was.

he could tell you were close because he noticed your thighs trembling slightly and way your moans were growing in volume and pitch. he knew that he had to keep up the pace, so he decided to try something else. he quickly and smoothly slipped two fingers inside you, smiling when he listened your whimper.

his fingers caressed your inner walls, scissoring them open and making way for him to thrust his tongue a little further, soon returning to your clit, sucking relentlessly. he pumped his fingers in and out of your wet heat, curling them just enough to hit that sweet spot and that was the final straw he needed to make you cum, crying out his name.

your grip on mark's hair tightened to the point of being painful as you reached your climax, your body arching and your hips pressing against his face. for a few seconds, it was as if you were trying to suffocate him with your pussy, which was… oddly hot for him, he weren’t sure if he was supposed to be this turned on.

with a satisfied moan, mark diligently lapped up your juices, not wanting to leave a single drop behind. he savored your delicious taste and couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction in knowing he was the pleasing you, finally.

mark slowly raised his head, his gaze meeting yours as he took his time to suck his fingers clean. he was in absolute awe at the sight before him. your hair was tousled, your breath coming in short pants, and a faint gleam of sweat adorned your forehead. your eyes were heavy-lidded and fixated on him, a sight that filled him with pride.

mark's voice broke the silence with a soft compliment, "you look divine..." he bit his lower lip, his words carrying genuine admiration for your appearance. a gentle laugh escaped your lips, touched by the sincere appreciation in his eyes.

“umm, i don’t know if god would approve that," you raised an eyebrow, a playful glimmer in your eyes as you pulled him up to meet your lips in a kiss, the taste of your essence still clung to his lips.

"i couldn't care less if it's you," mark murmured against your lips, his body molding against yours as if he was a puppet in your hands.

you teased, a frisky smirk on your lips, "hmm, that was quite the romantic statement, father. are you catching feelings?"

mark buried his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling against your skin and dropping soft kisses there.

“maybe i am.”

[rotagnus]

intuitive messages for the rest of may 🏙️

(and june). wow. it's been a while, hasn't it? sorry for not being as active. i have a lot of finishing up high school issues, but those are all slowly falling away. i feel like i'm starting a new phase of life and there's so many unknowns and it's kinda freaking me out 😭😭

this pac will give you some insight on a couple of things you should know. it's gonna be more specific (not too much) for each pile, so one may be about romance, the other can be about something totally else. please don't try to force yourself to pick one that doesn't resonate.

pile 1.

i think a lot of u will be reflecting on your life right now, especially about being alone. a lot of you developed this raw fear of being alone as a child, and you coped with it through various methods (for some always socializing even though at heart you loveee the nourishment that comes from solitude, for others through addictions (substances or anything else)). i think a lot of you had a falling out with something that was deeply central to all aspects of your life, and this kinda ran a crack through your vision of life was. more layers were discovered, and you're kind of like 'wow the world is way bigger and more complex than i thought' and soon, you'll be feeling a lot of emotions and seeing a lot of things you've NEVERRR seen before. like finding a new good song, y'know what i mean? but in order for this to happen, you're gonna have to truly let go of those things.

let yourself mourn. many of you just use escapism to get over trauma and heartbreaks because it was something you didn't allow yourself to feel as a younger person because it'd completely break you. you didn't learn how to cope with pain, and as a result, sought it out as an adult because it was a sweet taste compared to the unknown. stop finding people who remind you of the worst parts of life, and trust that there are good ones out there. sometimes, you don't meet them, because your current version would be unable to handle it. sometimes, to keep something forever, you have to be a bit patient in order to get it.

and another message for this pile; be careful with your negative emotions. you guys are a powerhouse, and that energy...it can really be used to better the earth, or as a weapon you wield. now, don't get me wrong; a lot of people deserve your anger and if i was you i would be bitter and hurt too. but you have to be careful who you aim it at. there are a few genuine people in your life and if you start to hurt them because of this deep-set dagger you've had in your back for the past years, you can scare them. channel all of those feelings into something that won't slowly destroy you, deep inside.

pile 2.

a lot of you have been in this patient, slow, steady kind of mood recently. a lot of you doubt your own tenderness and capability to be soft because you think that your loudness or some aspect of you cancels those out. all you want is to be able to be vulnerable and soft but a lot of the time, you feel like you tend to push people away, particularly in romantic prospects due to the fact that you are unable to change things about yourself or are simply unwilling to. there are parts of you that are deeply integral to who you are as a person, as a soul, and while you understand that you can't remove them simply for the sake of another person, you wish that you'd find someone who'd hold all these parts of you and be gentle with them instead of trying to make you fit into a box.

a message i have is that you CAN be loved for who you are, WITH that steady and soft love, without having to change things about yourself. stop painting yourself into a picture of what people 'want'. this is such a self-destructive quality you have and i think some of you have had relationships (platonic, romantic, EVEN W THE SELF) that required you to change something about yourself. sure, maybe you fit in better--but in your head, it was a storm. you guys really gotta stop trying to fit in. you weren't made for that life. think of all the famous artists, singers, whatever celebrity calls to you; did they fit in? nahhh. they paved their own road with their own hands instead of comparing themselves to others. you were meant to be unique. you were meant to SHINE as who you TRULY are instead of a mimic, instead of a two-dimensional copy of other people.

a lot of you look at people and go guessing what you have in store for yourself, or what you deserve. guess what? there's NOBODY out there like you. and i know it's hard because you're left worrying about the future, but this is the path you've chosen. you're blessed enough to be wise and deeply caring, and you've been blessed TO HAVE THIS RETURNED TO YOU IN THIS LIFE. but that is gonna be WASTED if you try to be loved by the wrong people who can only love those who fit a neat checklist. you really think that those people are gonna have true love for you if they only love you when you're a certain person? nahhh. stop trying to wither away just to be loved, pile 2. you guys have a deep fear of being unlovable, but you must fix it. there's a lot of people who are attracted to you, and you have to weed those with ill intentions out, BY BEING YOURSELF. be authentic. heal that wound.

pile 3.

a lot of you seem like you're grieving something rn. 'grieving your whole life'. moon river by frank ocean started playing. a lot of self-reflection has been going on, and for this pile, i think most of you really do love life for what it is; it's an art to you. existence is a beauty that is so tangible to you, you guys are really in tune with it, more than out of all these piles. you see people for their souls, not the roles they play in your life, which makes it hard for you to see any of them as 'villains' or 'heroes'. this can make you frustrating to deal with to some, but trust, you're gonna find someone who likes that deep justice inside of you. you just have to be patient. you guys feel like there's something good coming. it's true. you're the typa spiritual person who wakes up and lists off things you're grateful for. sometimes you doubt your goodness, but my message to you is that everyone can see it. even good people stumble, but that doesn't suddenly remove their goodness, y'know?

don't sink down to people's levels. i think a lot of you have experienced a betrayal of some sorts and now you think that the only way you'll ever be happy is by joining the crowd and running away from your depth, which feels like a burden sometimes. you feel like friends are fake and life is low, and you feel like the only way you'll ever be happy is if you turn to what makes other people happy...drugs, sex, money, etc. you guys fail to understand you're not meant for that. YOU'RE NOT MEANT FOR THAT. you guys are pure souls with pure hearts and the universe will shove you away from that path WITH FORCE if you ever go down it. i know you've been thinking about a certain decision; don't do itttt don't stoop down girl. you'll find joy but not in that. stop being scared that you're never ever gonna be happy, this is just a transition period, and god is testing you to make sure you're really willing to wait before giving all that to you.

connections will be very important for you in the next phase of your life. right now it's important to nurture yourself. have some tea, talk with someone who brings you light. i know that you feel like a burden and that you're complex, alone even in a crowd. that's not the way people see YOUUU. they see you as this bright, unique person, this SOUL that glows and leads people to light. you see yourself as this broken, chipped thing. you don't even see yourself as someone worth saving. you don't have to do everything yourself. trust, there will come a time in your life where you'll wake up by the love of your life with the golden sun in your face, and you'll feel truly happy. just because all of the people u met before were fucked in the head doesn't mean that the future holds the same thing. you have to stop giving yourself away FULLY. if your whole life revolves around one person that's a sign that something's seriously wrong. find other things to do that make you happy babycakes. you're the master of this reality; anyone would be lucky to have you. you're sweet, absolutely beautiful in the way that morning light is, honest, truthful, GOOD. you're a GOOD PERSON, dumdum. i know a lot of you don't wanna believe it but you are.

[coniferouspines]

Been thinking about @babyblankyerror ‘s Dr. Pinington AU. But sort of an AU of the AU. Like. Imagining his uh. Questionable mental state came from not only various jobs and stuff he did, but also because he himself was the victim of a botched lobotomy.

Was thinking about transorbital lobotomies. With the classic “ice pick” (orbitoclast) tools and all. And how the surgeons stick an orbitoclast into the eye socket, right through a thin layer of bone. Kind of whack it with a mallet to break the bone and access the brain. And how the prefrontal cortex the procedure effected is what controls socially acceptable behaviour, personality and expression. Stuff like that.

And like. What if Stan was forced to undergo that (illegally and by enemies). Except since transorbital lobotomies were quick procedures, they decide not to knock him out for it. Because Stan is awake when it happens, he fights back. He’s able to escape, but his struggling botched the procedure and also lost him his eye because he fought when they put the pick into his eye socket.

So his brain is. A little scrambled. Not as badly as it could have been if the lobotomy had been successful, but he’s very much. Kooky. Can’t mask the crazy the way he used to. Mental illness just gets worse but now he’s also far more fascinated with surgery, and specifically brain surgery (and later with kidneys). Perhaps it’s a way to cope with the trauma of what he went through, wanting to perform brain surgeries on other people now. Kind of a way to feel in control of what happened to him.

But after he gets himself a new eye, and does other experimental surgeries on himself, he starts doing them on other people who need them (for a price). And eventually he becomes Dr. Pinington. He was already into human behaviour and anatomy stuff but after his botched lobotomy his interest in medicine and surgery just gets stronger. He’s a super questionable and totally not licensed doctor but also. He’s actually quite good at it. As unorthodox as some of his methods are.

[sunshineyrosie]

risk and reward

summary: he had one job: restocking the condom supply. breeding you does sound like a good idea, at the time.

pairing: Jayce x Reader

w/c: 2.7k

notes: smut ahead! unprotected sex, breeding, risky behaviors, established relationship, unplanned pregnancy, jayce being the smartest dumbass who ever lived, viktor is sick of you both

read on ao3: here

You’re in bed with Jayce, the air thick with anticipation—the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light over your figures. Your bodies are entwined, moving together as you explore each other's mouths and bodies, your breaths coming out in quick gasps. 

You’re each in various states of undress, clothes having been discarded and scattered in a hasty trail across the room leading to the bed. He pulls away from your hungry lips, a soft smile playing on his lips as he reaches into the bedside drawer. His expression falls as he finds the empty condom box. 

“Shit, we’re out.” He pants, showing you the empty interior, a slight blush creeping across his cheeks.

You can’t help but tease him, poking his side. “You had one job, you know.” you say, your voice soft and playful. “To restock the condoms.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says with a sheepish grin, running a hair through his hair. “I’m not used to this yet. I could pull out but…well, I’m not sure I could trust myself once I’m inside you. I get so caught up in the moment.”

You’ve only recently began using condoms due to your decision to go off the pill, which was causing health issues. You have an appointment to get an implant in a couple weeks, so you’d been using an alternative method of birth control in the meantime, navigating the unfamiliar territory together.

You shrug, a playful smile on your face as you reach out and begin to trace lazy patterns on his chest. “It’s alright,” you say gently. “We’ll just have to get creative tonight.”

Jayce leans back, his brown-gold eyes roaming your nearly naked body with a hungry look. “I could eat you out,” he suggests, his voice hopeful. “I want to taste you.”

“You know I can’t refuse an offer like that.” You grin, capturing his lips in a frantic kiss. He begins to kiss his way down your torso, soft and gentle, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. You arch your back as he pulls the cups of your bra down and begins sucking and nipping gently at your breasts, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. His hands explore your body, groping and squeezing gently, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

As he continues his descent, you can feel his breath hot on your skin—the softness of his lips, the rough stubble on his cheeks, and it's intoxicating. You’re enjoying yourself, truly, but you can’t help it as your mind drifts somewhere else—to the idea of feeling him completely, raw and unprotected. You suddenly murmur aloud, “What if…you didn’t pull out?”

He freezes, his eyes snapping up to yours, a mix of surprise and something primal stirring in their depths. “Are you serious?” he asks, his voice hoarse with desire. “Because if that’s a joke, it's not funny.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, your figure on full display for him. “I’m serious,” you say, your voice steady and sure. “It’s only once, and the chances of me getting pregnant right now are low, anyway.”

A wide grin spreads across his face as he lets out a giggle, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Fuck, thats hot,” he says, voice filled with excitement.

You can’t resist teasing him. “Oh yeah, baby? You like the thought of filling me up?”

He nods excitedly, his breath coming out in quick pants. You continue, your eyes locked with his, gauging his reaction. “You like the thought of your seed taking? Of knocking me up with your baby?”

“Stop,” he whines, a sound of pure need and desire escaping his lips. “You’re going to make me cum in my pants if you keep talking like that.”

You laugh, a sound of pure satisfaction and power at seeing the effect your words have on him. You lean in close. “I want to feel you cum inside me, Jayce.” You whisper, leaving a quick nip on his earlobe. “I want to feel your hot seed filling me up, dripping out of me. I want it all, baby.”

He lets out a low growl, his body tensing at your words. “Fuck you’re—fuck!” He begins scrambling, kicking off his pants and boxers in a flurry of movement, his cock springing free, impossibly hard.

He crawls back up the bed, his body pressing against you as his lips capture yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands explore your body with a newfound sense of urgency. You can practically feel his pulse racing under his skin, trembling with excitement and nerves. Jayce breaks away from the kiss, breath ragged.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, searching your eyes for any signs of hesitation. “Because once I start I don’t know if I’ll be able to—I mean, I’ll try, but I—”

“I’m sure.” You stop his frantic rambling by placing your hands on either side of his face. You speak, your voice a sultry purr. “Fuck me, Jayce. Fuck me raw. Breed me, baby.”

“Oh fuck, honey.” He lets out a low groan. He positions himself at your entrance, his cock hard and pulsating against your thigh. You can feel the head of his cock, wet with pre-cum, teasing your entrance. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him on. 

With a low growl, he thrusts into you, filling you completely in one swift motion. You both let out a gasp in unison, your bodies stilling for a moment as you savor the feeling of being connected so intimately, so deeply. Jayce begins to move, his hips thrusting in a primal rhythm, not steady, but still pleasurable. His eyes, dilated and dark, never leave yours. 

“You feel so, so good,” he says with a moan. “So fucking tight and wet. I’m not—I won't last.”

You moan in response, head falling back as your hips meet his thrust for thrust. Your hand makes its way down to your center, rubbing at your clit. “I want it all.” You pant. “Every…drop. Fill me up, Jayce. Make me yours.”

He groans, his body tensing as he feels himself getting closer. “I’m–I’m close.” He warns, voice strained.

“Then come inside me. Fill me up, make me–fuck–get me pregnant, Jayce.”

With a final, powerful thrust, he comes, body shuddering as he spills himself deep inside you. You can feel it, hot and pulsing against your inner walls and it sends you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing through you. Jayce lets out a loud, guttural moan as he feels you clamp down around him.

“Oh my god I–I love you. I love you so much, honey.” He finally collapses on top of you, chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close, enjoying the feeling of his heartbeat against your chest as he comes down from his high. He finally rolls off of you, keeping you in his arms, pressing soft kisses against your forehead.

“That was…intense.” He murmurs, a contented smile on his face.

“It was,” you hum in agreement, snuggling further against him. “I love you so much, Jayce, you don’t even know.” 

At this, he gets quiet, brow furrowing slightly as he stares at the ceiling with a look of worry.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at him fully.

He blinks up at you, quiet vulnerability taking over his features. “What if you actually get pregnant?” he asks softly.

You smile, running your fingers through his damp hair. “The chances are low, remember? We’ll buy a new box of condoms in the morning.” You pause, voice soft and reassuring. “But if it does happen, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. We both want kids, right? And think about it—we’d make pretty cute babies.”

“You’re right,” He says, looking at you with a happy and contented smile spreading across his cheeks. He leans in to kiss your temple softly. “We would.”

You can’t help but tease him further. “Plus, just imagine me growing with your child, getting all swollen…” Jayce cuts you off with a loud whine.

“Stop, I just came.” He protests. “...Or give me a few minutes, at least.”

You giggle and begin peppering his face, chest, and neck with kisses. You press your body against his, enjoying the feel of his skin against yours.

---

A couple of weeks later, you find yourself in a clinic, lying on an examination table, waiting for the doctor. You had declined Jayce’s offer of joining you, assuring him that it would be a quick and straightforward procedure. The room is sterile and quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights the only sound breaking the silence. 

The doctor enters, a warm smile on her face. “Good afternoon,” she greets you, washing her hands at the sink before turning to you. “I’m Dr. Patel. I understand you’re here for an implant?”

You nod, returning her smile. “Yes, that’s correct.”

She pulls up a stool and sits down, her expression turning serious but kind. "The procedure is quite simple. The implant is a small, flexible rod that will be inserted under the skin of your upper arm. It releases a hormone that prevents pregnancy. The procedure itself takes only a few minutes, and you should be able to go home shortly afterward."

She goes through the routine questions, her pen poised over her clipboard. She verifies your allergies and the date of your last period, jotting down the information as you speak. Then she asks: “And is there any chance you could be pregnant?"

You hesitate, feeling a slight blush creep up your cheeks. "Well, I had unprotected sex with my boyfriend once a couple of weeks ago, but it was just once and I feel fine. I took a pregnancy test this morning, and it was negative."

Dr. Patel looks at you with an unimpressed but amused expression. "Home pregnancy tests are not always accurate, especially so early on. We'll need to do a blood test to be sure.”

Moments later, a nurse enters the room, pushing a cart with medical supplies. She draws your blood efficiently, and you watch as the vial fills. The nurse leaves, and you're alone with your thoughts, trying to process the slight possibility that you might be pregnant. You can’t be, right? …Right?

Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Patel returns, her expression unreadable. She sits back down on the stool, eyes meeting yours. "Well, the results are in," she says cautiously. "You're pregnant."

You stare at her, floored. While you knew it was a risk, you didn't really think it had actually happened. "I... I don't know what to say," you stammer.

“Would you like to discuss options for termination?” Dr. Patel asks kindly. 

“No!” You say quickly. “I’m happy, I just—I’m just surprised, that's all.” 

Dr. Patel smiles warmly. "Congratulations. I know this might not have been planned, but it's a wonderful surprise nonetheless. Here is some paperwork with information on prenatal care and what to expect in the coming weeks. Take your time reading through it, and if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to call us."

You thank her, taking the paperwork with shaking hands. As you leave the clinic, your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. 

You wonder how Jayce will react. You know he won’t be upset, and neither are you, but it wasn’t necessarily part of the plan, either. At least not yet. However, it was a pretty dumb decision to forgo the condom in the first place, so it’s not like you could blame anyone but yourselves. 

As you make your way home, you can’t help but smile, finding your hand resting unconsciously against your belly. You’re going to be a mother. The thought fills you with a mix of excitement and nervousness, but mostly, you feel happy. 

You decide you cannot wait to share the news with Jayce; keeping it to yourself any longer simply felt impossible. After about an hour, and a brief stop at one of the many little gift shops in downtown Piltover, you find yourself standing in the Hextech lab.

You’re glad to see that he’s alone—Viktor must have stepped out. Jayce looks up from his workbench, a wide grin spreading across his face when he sees you. He loves when you surprise him at work.

“Hey, you!” he exclaims, pushing his stool back and standing to greet you. He pulls you into a tight embrace, kissing you deeply. 

“How was your appointment?” he asks, pulling back to study you.

You smile, warmth pooling in your chest. “It went well. Really well.”

He hums, nodding as if checking off a mental list, clearly not sensing anything amiss. “That’s good. I’m glad you got everything sorted.”

“Actually, there's something else I need to tell you. I stopped at a shop on my way here and got you something.”

His eyes flicker with curiosity as you hand him the small bag you had been hiding behind your back. He pulls out the tiny pair of baby booties, turning them over in his large hands like an artifact he’s trying to classify. “Interesting,” he murmurs, brows knitting. “They’re…really small.”

You bite your lip, watching as his brain whirs. He squints, holding one up. “Are they… for a pet? A friend?”

You stifle a laugh. “Nope.”

He frowns, staring at them like they’re part of an equation he can’t solve. You let out a snort, shaking your head at his obliviousness—he’s one of the smartest people you know, and yet somehow, impossibly, he isn’t getting it. 

Finally, giggling, you take pity on him. “Jayce. They’re for our baby. I’m pregnant.”

He blinks. Then blinks again. His gaze darts between you and the booties, mouth slightly ajar. “Wait. Are you serious?”

You nod, beaming. “I just found out, at my appointment.”

“But–” He gestures vaguely. “We only–once, and–”

“And here we are. I suppose once is all it took. Maybe you have super sperm, or something.”

It takes another beat of silence, and you worry for a moment he isn't as happy about the news as you thought he’d be. Then, his entire face transforms. Before you can say another word, he scoops you up into his arms, spinning you around in sheer delight.

“I’m so happy!” he exclaims, his voice thick with emotion, like he might cry. He sets you down gently, hands resting on your hips as he gazes at you like you’ve just rewritten the laws of physics. “I love you so much. This is–oh, this is the best news ever.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Are you kidding? Of course not.” He kneels down, pressing a reverent kiss to your belly. “Hello in there, little one. I’m your dad.”

“I’m not sure they have ears yet, Jayce–”

“I don’t care.” He stands back up, kissing you deeply. The lab door swings open, and Viktor steps in, eyeing the scene with practiced skepticism, as if he might be walking into something far too inappropriate for a work environment. (As he had before—on more than one occasion) His brow lifts as he spots Jayce clutching the baby booties as if they’re priceless artifacts.

“Do I even want to know?” He asks dryly.

Jayce turns, eyes wide with barely-contained pride. “Viktor! I have incredible news—I have super sperm!”

Viktor exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Fantastic. Just what the world needed. The Man of Progress with-”

Viktor’s gaze flicks to you, then the booties, then back to Jayce—the realization dawning. He groans, shaking his head at the method which Partner chose to announce his news. “Wait. Wait, you’re telling me this is–”

Jayce nods enthusiastically, apparently unaware Viktor hadn’t finished his sentence. “Super. Sperm.”

Viktor stares at him for a beat, processing the news. He then lets out a quiet, incredulous laugh. Finally, he claps his partner on the back, his smirk twisting into something vaguely affectionate. “Congratulations, Jayce. To both of you.”

You offer a smile and a nod of thanks to Viktor, then look back up at Jayce with your heart full. You knew he’d be thrilled—and seeing his joy makes your own happiness complete. 

Perhaps it was sooner than anticipated, but you’re going to be a family, and nothing could make you happier. 

if you've read this far, thank you from the bottom of my heart!!! please reblog and leave a comment below to let me know if you enjoyed reading.

[knight-a3]

Adam, the First Man

Hazbin Masterpost

Heavenbound Masterpost

Adam is one of the characters I did not like the portrayal of in canon, so there's a fair amount I'm doing differently.

More notes under the cut

--Character--

I hate the crude misogynist characterization, because it feels disrespectful to Abrahamic faiths. I can't help but feel Christians in particular are targeted, even though Adam is a character is Jewish and Islamic traditions as well.

Adam will still be on the arrogant side, but not nearly as insufferable. I want him to portray traditional, positive aspects of masculinity. Loving and protective husband and father, hard-working, and protective. But, has a bit of a temper that can lead to a tendency toward vengeance. Act first, questions later. Eve was a calming influence for him, but she has mysteriously disappeared and he suspects hell had something to do with it. He'll exterminate every demon if it means he can find answers and bring her home.

--Background--

He and Eve were the first humans and were tasked with cultivating the garden of Eden. Abyss wanted them to Fall so it could consume them, so it created Lilith. Lilith befriended them, then offered the forbidden fruit to Eve. Eve, realizing she'd be kicked out, ran to Adam. So he could stay with her, he ate the fruit as well. The fruit gave them the ability to understand morality, and ultimately the ability to choose good and evil, aka sin. Now that they could sin, they could Fall.

Abyss instructed Lilith to seduce Adam to sin. She tried to force herself on him, to get him to commit adultery, but he rejected her. The friendship between the three of them was broken by this. Lilith hadn't eaten the fruit yet, so she didn't really know what she did wrong.

Adam and Eve were banished from Eden, while Lilith was cast to hell with Helel(Lucifer). Adam and Eve had a family and lived happily ever after. Until Cain killed Abel. I don't have that aspect of their story totally worked out, and I'm not sure how relevant it will end up being.

Children-- The Bible only names three children. Cain, Abel, and Seth. But it says they had "more sons and daughters". There's no definitive numbers. It's not even clear if Cain was actually the firstborn. The true firstborn may have gone unnamed because Cain had a more prominent role to document. No daughters are named in the Bible, but some traditions and apocryphal writings mention a few. Aclima, Awan, and Azura.

The bible story basically goes like this: Cain and Abel offered sacrifices to God. Abel was a shepherd and gave the best of his flock. Cain was a farmer and gave some of his crop. There is no specification to the quality of his offering. So the implication is that he was selfish and kept the best for himself and either gave an average or sub-par offering, maybe even as an afterthought. So when God favored Abel, Cain killed him out of jealousy. Seth was born to essentially replace Abel, so I'm assuming that means Seth was also a shepherd.

History or myth?-- I personally think the Adam and Eve story is largely symbolic, not literal. The method of history keeping during the early biblical days was through stories, often using symbolic imagery to portray a general idea of an event. Which is why there will be other stories across various cultures with similar themes and plot elements. I think the story of Adam and Eve is representative of the evolution of ape to human. While Cain and Abel is about how humans can sin.

Afterlife-- Adam became the chief saint, the highest rank of the archangels, and leader of heaven's army. The army was tasked with protecting heaven and earth from threats, particularly from hell. Demons would sometimes escape and wander earth, so they had to either be sent back to hell, or exterminated.

When concern over hell's growing population and risk of an uprising became prominent, the exterminations began. Recently, the exterminations have been more brutal. Turns out Eve has gone missing, and Adam thinks hell is to blame somehow. So he's furiously searching for her.

--Design Notes--

Appearance: I wanted Adam to look like he could be the first man. Which I felt meant he needed an actual beard, darker skin, and more textured hair. I used Moses from Dreamwork's Prince of Egypt as a model. I figured a more middle-eastern look would be fitting for a Hebrew character.

I had his halo positioned to resemble horns to reference the canon design, and allude to the halo as his helmet's wings.

Apple: Canon has apples be a symbol for the Morningstars, especially Lucifer. But I think it would be more fitting for Adam and Eve instead. "Adam's apple" is a real term, after all. So I wanted to incorporate that.

Crusader: I do not like the demonic looking uniforms for the exorcists. Why would they want to look like the people they are killing? It doesn't make sense to me. It's not even a disguise.

I thought a Crusader theme would be more fitting. So I gave him a Great Helm. Specifically a style of Great Helm referred to as a Sugarloaf, which has a conical shaped top. Domed and conical shapes were better at deflecting blows than flat topped versions. Great Helms did not typically have a movable visor, and experts disagree on if they ever did. Some bascinets have a visor that can make them look like a Sugarloaf Helm, I guess.

I'm just leaning into my nerd side now, but breathing holes weren't always on both sides. Sometimes it was just the right side, since the left was typically the side presented toward the enemy.

The wings on the helmet do have historical precedent. It's called a crest. They're an indication of status and identification. There's two situations were you might see them. 1, in tournaments where participants want to be identifiable and show off. 2, in battles where looking important means the enemies would rather ransom you than kill you. They weren't generally built into the actual helmet, but were removeable. The example to the bottom right of the above set is not-- as far as I'm aware-- a historical example. But it did serve as inspiration for me.

People can get pretty creative with them.

This helmet piece is specifically what "crest" refers to. It's only a piece of the "coat of arms." There were and still are some specific customs to official heraldry, and I won't claim to know all the rules, just that it isn't as simple as googling the your family name's coat of arms, because sharing a name doesn't guarantee it belongs to your family. Heraldry is recorded and officially verified by governments.

Priest: The priestly garb is to reference his high status as an angel, and the religious implications. For official church vestments, what is specifically used and how it looks can vary by denomination, position, event, etc.

The staff is based on a crozier. Which is symbolic of a shepherd's crook. My sheep nerd side is going to come out with this one. There are two basic sizes of crook: Neck sized, and leg sized. Herding sheep is one thing, actually catching them is another. They often don't want to be caught, but they need to be checked on. I've had this struggle when trying to look at my ewe's hooves when she was limping.

I think that's all I have for now.

(Edit notes will go here as needed)

[lets-try-some-writing]

Sorta new here, so hi! I was wondering how Team Prime would react to the kids singing karaoke? I keep imagining that either the three of them or Miko would sing the more sexual songs just to mess with the bots LMAO 🤣

The moment the kids broke out the karaoke machine, half the team died a little inside. Even Optimus, usually an advocate for new cultures, seemed to become a little tense as soon as he figured out what was going on. Bumblebee and Smokescreen were instantly on board with the concept, but everyone else was dubious.

Knowing they had to tread carefully, the kids were methodical in their activities. At first they kept the songs tame, playful, and relatively quiet. Even Miko was in on it, managing to keep her voice at reasonable volumes so as to lower the team's guard. One by one, the Autobots relaxed. With their play being so quiet, they were rewarded with a promise of being able to sing as long as things were appropriate. Ratchet got back to work with a disgruntled huff, Optimus returned to his reading, Ultra Magnus kept working on whatever it was he was organizing, and the rest of the team kept an optic on the situation. Then slowly, the kids began to rope various bots in one at a time.

Smokescreen was the first to get roped in. It wasn't difficult to give him a racing tune to sing along to. He had no idea what exactly he was saying, but he sang with such gusto that Bumblebee was next to hurry over for his turn. Well, kind of. Being well aware of his voice, Bumblebee instead acted as though he were singing, holding the mic and exaggerating his every motion as he 'sang' to one of Elvis's songs (Smokescreen sang on his behalf). It was calm enough that the rest of the team didn't react.

Then they got Bulkhead involved via Miko's sad puppy eyes and some metal music. He wasn't exactly thrilled, but he wanted to appease his little wards. Besides, Smokescreen and Bumblebee were playing for once. That was enough for him. But Bulkhead was by no means the best singer, and that was thankfully part of the plan. Before Ratchet or Ultra Magnus could swing their hammers of justice and shut them down, the resident two wheeler stepped up. Arcee, ever the mother hen, couldn't stand the sound for long and swooped in to sing instead. Normally she would never, but with the kids looking so eager and with half the team already involved, she gave in.

This too was planned for, and before long, three fourths of the team were guilt tripped, roped into, or otherwise involved with the karaoke. Even Wheeljack shuffled over to listen and make a ruckus. With him present, all that remained were the big three. And if the kids weren't careful, one or all of them were more than likely to shut down their operation.

As the gathered bots reluctantly (or very enthusiastically) sang and danced, Rafael pulled out his trump card. Faking an issue with the karaoke machine, he promptly made a fuss along with everyone who was actively involved in the whole affair. Smokescreen was especially distraught, and the combined lamentations of the gathered group were enough to catch the attention of Rafael's target. Ratchet, hating the complaints about finicky technology, was quick to yell at them to shut up. But this was when Miko slid in with a snarky comeback. Taunting Ratchet and claiming he couldn't possibly fix it was enough to have him stomping over to fiddle with a purposefully loose cable. By the time he jammed it back into place, he found himself with an energon cube (curtesy of Wheeljack) and something almost akin to a rave raging around him.

Ratchet, unable to escape without causing further distress, could only grumble and settle down to begrudgingly sip his cube of energon as Wheeljack got the mic and went to town. This too was accounted for, at least in part. Wheeljack's enthusiasm, along with Ratchet's failure to return to his station, got Ultra Magnus's attention. He marched over, ready to shut everything down. But this was when Optimus stepped in, quietly shaking his helm and urging Ultra Magnus to simply watch and allow it all to play out. The duo quietly shut down a majority of their audio sensory capabilities and returned to work, letting the raving karaoke party continue.

If Optimus hummed along to a few of the songs, everyone knew better than to say anything about it.

Ultra Magnus however made a grand show of scowling for the next few days and not so quietly put the karaoke machine too high up in the rafters for bots shorter than him to reach (Smokescreen has never forgiven him for this slight).

[invenusworld]

rohini

rohini's presiding deity is brahma, who is said not to be concerned with morals, with 'right or wrong,' but rather simply with the act of bringing to fruition every impluse of the imagination. fantasy, desire and sexuality are deeply entwined with the symbolism and cosmic function of rohini — the red woman — the one easily aroused, and rohini is ultimately in the pursuit of pleasure, in all its various guises.

rohini seeks to uncover, unearth and experience all which causes the loins to stir, regardless of its perceived morality. It may seem that there are no limits to the sexual proclivities of Rohini, and in some instances there aren't — as in the extreme case of rohini sun native Marquis de Sade.

to quote The Hidden Octave,

"[The Marquis'] Rohini influence comes in strongly in his total disregard for laws and morality, a total abandon into all things sensually gratifying as this is not a nakshatra of discrimination, rules or any of the programming that holds man back from giving himself over to his lust. Fundamentally, Rohini is the pursuit of pleasure for its own sake.

Have a crush? Who cares if he’s a convict felon or your middle school teacher or married? Go after it."

Egon Schiele, Self-Portrait with Physalis, 1912

Egon Schiele is an artist whose mercury is in Rohini. Mercury represents the area of life that we have a practical, tangible understanding of. The placement of mercury also reflects our creations and manipulations of matter.

"Egon Leo Adolf Ludwig Schiele (12 June 1890 – 31 October 1918) was an Austrian Expressionist painter. His work is noted for its intensity and its raw sexuality, and for the many self-portraits the artist produced, including nude self-portraits. The twisted body shapes and the expressive line that characterize Schiele's paintings and drawings mark the artist as an early exponent of Expressionism. Gustav Klimt, a figurative painter of the early 20th century, was a mentor to Schiele."

Schiele's mentor, Gustav Klimt, has his venus in Rohini.

Gustav Klimt, Daphne, 1903

I will now share an excerpt of an article by Dominic Witek regarding the polarizing and deeply controversial artworks of Egon Schiele

"Created in the era of Freud, Schiele’s work can be seen as a metaphor for the psychoanalyst method of the talking cure where drawing is synonymous with speaking, revealing and releasing hopes and fears lodged in the unconscious."

Here, the author likens the work of Schiele to that of Rohini moon native Sigmund Freud.

"The broad spectrum of emotion depicted is expressed by Schiele’s various presentation of women. The different articulations of their bodies seems to convey a host of the artist’s attitudes, ranging from fear and distanced superiority, to admiration and desire for women. Indeed the artist’s relationships with women reflected these hopes and fears. He married Edith Harms, a respectable woman with whom he established a marriage based solely on friendship, continued an intimate relationship with Wally Neuzil despite attempting to end it before his marriage, and had an unusual relationship with his sister Gertrude.

[...] characterisations of the artist’s sister invite questioning on the nature of their relationship, which at least hints at the incestuous."

Brahma was condemned for incestuosly desiring his own daughter (creation) Rohini, which prompted her to adopt the form of a deer in Mrigashira to escape from her father.

"Egon was arrested in 1912 for suspected sexual harassment of underage girls. Despite this traumatic event (which he lamented extensively in his writings), he continued to depict very young women until his death.

His aesthetic mirrors Freudian attitudes in which sex is intimately related to death, the connection between the pleasure principle and the death drive, Eros and Thanatos. Freud articulated this tension in relation to women, defining the ‘castration complex’ as experiencing the fear of being castrated, while caught by an irrepressible sexual desire. Woman with Black Stockings, 1913, articulates this tension as a reclining woman lifts her skirt to reveal her sex"

It seems as though the threads of the unbridled pursuit of pleasure weave together the works, philosophies & artworks of rohini natives through the ages

To quote Jason Farago, "True morality, for Sade, entailed following your darkest and most destructive passions to their farthest possible ends, even at the expense of other human life.

To kill a man in passion was one thing, but to rationalise killing by law was barbarous.

“We rail against the passions,” [Sade] wrote, “but never think that it is from their flame that philosophy lights its torch.”

[prettieinpink]

CONFRONT, PROCESS, HEAL ♡ྀི

For everyone who has goals for 2025 to heal <3 This post is very general, so even if you think it won’t apply to you, I would still recommend skimming through it to see if anything stands out! This is a vv long post :) like 2.5k words so beware, and feel free to ask or debate anything

CONFRONTING 

TAKE A MOMENT. In the heat of the moment, it can be difficult to regulate our emotions, in which it's harder for us to process what is the right thing to do. Confronting problems with overwhelming feelings, will most likely lead to us doing the less than ideal action. 

So whenever you are in a position in which your emotions are getting the best of you, fully distract yourself. Do whatever you want, as long as it just shuts your brain off. 

Then when you have cooled down, you don’t have to tackle it right away. I find that will just bring them back up to the surface again. Go at your own pace and when you are comfortable starting to process everything. 

IDENTIFY EVERYTHING. When a lot of people say this, they mean naming your emotion and what's happened to you. I think that's a very close-minded perspective, and in order to comfortably heal, we need to be aware of all factors that may have contributed to what has happened. 

For example, consider the environment, your upbringing, their upbringing, your actions, their (possible) thoughts, your attributes, their attributes etc. I know I'm a big person for not obsessing over people as it just takes away energy from what you could be putting back into yourself, but this isn't an obsession. This is you stepping away from everything and looking at the situation with a third person perspective. 

ACKNOWLEDGE IT. Another thing is that you have to acknowledge that this is your reality. I know a lot of us struggle with this, as when we’re faced with reality, we escape. Through various methods like maladaptive day-dream or just subconsciously blocking out the memories from our mind. It's okay for you to have a big reaction to it, but I definitely discourage downplaying it or ignoring it. 

Part of acknowledging is understanding that in some way or form, you will have to look back on whatever happened in order to truly get past it.

I also struggled with this, when I sit myself down, and I'm like, ‘this is the life that I’m living’, at that point you kind of realise that constantly escaping instead of acknowledging will do more harm than good. I'm saying this because the self improvement community sometimes encourages ‘ignoring’ everyone and everything which doesn’t go your way, which I don’t believe is good for your emotional health at all. Those emotions from those experiences will eventually catch up to you if you’re constantly running away from them. 

GAIN CLOSURE. If you happen to be in a situation in which it's appropriate to reach out to people who you just don’t understand their actions or what happened, then do it. Getting that closure makes it easier to let go of the situation.

If your circumstances are more complicated than that, I would roleplay. It sounds so weird, but it is just as effective. There are two ways you could go around this, the first method would be asking a friend to be xyz. It helps if they are someone who knows a lot about this situation. 

If you don’t feel comfortable telling someone all this, or maybe you don’t have someone to roleplay with, you could use chat GPT. Tell it your situation, the kind of people involved, their personalities and any other relevant information. I am anti-chat gpt, but I feel like the usage of it in this situation is for good. 

ACCOUNTABILITY. Even if you feel like you are the most perfect human being ever, its quite possible that you may have unknowingly or unwillingly played a hand in whatever happened to you. Of course, this will not apply to all situations. 

It doesn’t even have to be accountable for others’ people's actions. It can be accountability to yourself e.g ‘I saw the signs that xyz would do this, but I ignored it’ or ‘I’m sorry to myself because I allowed them to disrespect me’ or ‘My actions may have compelled them to act that way towards me’.  Accountability is a two way street. 

PROCESSING 

EVALUATE. Now that we’ve identified everything and hopefully gained some closure, evaluate the whole situation. You can do a video diary, journal or talk to a friend about it. Since everyone’s situation is going to be so different from each other, I can’t really give much advice about it. 

However, I would say, go really deep. Like, it has to be questions which make you uncomfortable to answer. If they’re too easy to answer (especially without deep thought), then you’re not digging as deep as you could go. Here’s some questions to get you started! Please do tweak where needed, as I did make these to be very general. 

Was this situation a reflection of my upbringing? If so, how are the two connected?

Were the perpetrator(s) doing this out of pure immorality, or could there be other factors that may have contributed to them doing it? 

Was I in a position in which I could’ve avoided or de-escalated the situation? Were there signs that this would happen?

Have I not healed completely from any situations in the past, and my pain from that made me carry on the same behaviours? 

Is this an emotion or situation which I’ve been avoiding? If so, why?

What would forgiveness for people who have wronged me look like? 

Did I or my community handle the situation ideally? What differences could have been made? Would those differences really would’ve affected the outcome of the situation?

Has this situation affected your thinking process, specifically when being in new environments or around new people? 

These questions are not a one-size fits all, so once again, tweak to your liking. If you would like more personalised questions, I would go to chat GPT. 

MOURN. This is your time to wail, scream, go absolutely crazy because whatever happened, still affected you. Everyone’s mourning will look different, and their reasons why will be a lot more diverse. 

I would recommend doing an activity that is high energy. I don’t mean physical activity, so if writing poems angrily is what lets you get that steam out of your system, I fully support it. And, there is no time limit whatsoever. Of course, I encourage you at one point to pick yourself up, but if months is what you need, months is what you shall get. 

Quick little disclaimer, please don’t do anything crazy that will harm you. Like overworking yourself physically, binging, not eating enough meals, lashing out at everyone etc. While it is a period to mourn, do it in a way that is actually beneficial to you. 

SOLUTION. Just because a situation or problem is ‘over’ doesn’t mean it's been solved. While this may not apply to many problems, I think some people need to hear this: You need to make the best of what you have. I know it seems so unfair that xyz has happened to you, and there is no worse feeling when you see people who’ve wronged you thrive in life or you imagine who/what you could’ve been if xyz didn’t happen to you. 

However, you have your options. You absolutely have to make the best of what you’ve got instead of dwelling on could’ve or what ifs. A solution to whatever will not be a one size fits all. For some people, it may be applying to a new skill class, having that one difficult conversation, finally going to therapy or maybe saving up money for anything that will help. I would define a solution in this instance as anything that creates or supports long-term and permanent growth to most areas of life. 

I used the word growth specifically because a lot of solutions to your problem(s)are not easy. It may feel uncomfortable, but that's why we call it growth. This journey will absolutely not be linear, and the easy way out may not be the best way out. 

For example, I really want to move schools. I’ve been in the same school since year 2, and I feel like this environment may have stunted the growth of who I could’ve been. The easy solution would’ve been to move schools, but my parents are kind of blocking that. Instead, I decided to look for new areas to grow. For example, my blog! I also put in a lot of effort into my academics at this school, because I know that I would love to study abroad and that's another solution. Another solution for me could also be joining a new club. You see where I'm going with this? 

OUTCOME. Something which I wished that someone had told me way earlier, is to ask yourself, what is the ideal outcome after you get past this? You may be like, isn’t that like what everyone says? But what nobody actually says is that your outcome will may be far from ideal. 

A part of this journey is understanding that this situation will always be a part of you, regardless of how much or little it has shaped you today. A toxic belief that I had, is when I would get past it, I would be unstoppable. I would know exactly what to do, in whatever situation, and whenever I revisit it, I never feel anything. This is so detached from reality, and a huge part of processing everything, is to understand what you want to achieve. 

I feel like the reason why I believed I would be unstoppable, is because youtubers etc really love to promote that as soon as you turn around your mindset, you’re good to go. You will never have to suffer again in life, because your mindset is so ‘good’. Your mindset could be so polished and it could actually not bother you at all, but your body will keep the score. 

You are not going for perfection, you are aiming for progress. Here are some ideas for goals/outcomes you want to achieve, feel free to tweak, choose multiple, or add more. 

Reclaim what trauma has taken back from you. 

Recover your self esteem, hope, or ability to connect with other people. 

Process whatever that has happened so that It doesn’t haunt you.

Releasing yourself out of survival mode. 

Develop healthy coping mechanisms. 

HEALING

CREATE A SUPPORT SYSTEM. Your support system will consist of people who you can trust to be vulnerable around. They will help you get through it, and will almost be like your second brain which you can use from time to time. Since they didn’t experience themselves (or maybe they did), they could offer new perspectives or advice that you wouldn’t consider due to the impact on you. 

If you are someone who doesn’t have the resources to create a support system, have a support place. Have somewhere where it's all rainbows and sparkles, and whenever you go there, you release everything. I know there’s not a lot of third spaces around, but I would recommend parks, libraries, someone else’s house, churches, youth centres or community centres. I would recommend taking something in which you can communicate to yourself in some way. 

CREATE AN EMOTIONAL FIRST AID KIT. Adding on to my last point, grab a little pouch or box and put things that will calm you down. For example, written affirmations, a prayer, reminders, lollies/candy, list of activities that you can do to calm down,a colouring book with markers, a comfort book or perhaps some money so you can get yourself a nice little comfort meal or a sweet treat.

I'm suggesting this because in the healing process, you will break down completely at least once. I find that its more likely to happen if you’re not going at a pace that is comfortable to you, and it kind of just catches up to you all again. This first aid kit will be essential to not doing anything that we will regret or falling back into unhealthy coping mechanisms. 

EDUCATE YOURSELF. Not a lot of people have easy access to therapy, and I'm aware of that. However, education of whatever happened to us (regardless of how big or small) helps you to understand your experiences and it actually becomes empowering at some point that we have the knowledge of this and how it impacts us, as that knowledge makes it easier to work through it compared to doing it blindfolded. 

While therapy is my first suggestion as its a lot more personalised, however like I said, not a lot of people have easy access to therapy. This is when I would encourage watching documentaries, youtube videos (i would be careful with this one–, i would avoid any ‘gurus’), and read articles or books.

 Whichever way you choose to educate yourself, actually take notes. I’m quite serious, it could be digital or physical notes, but at least write down anything that resonates with you. Then after you’re finished writing those notes, you’re going to treat it like its your homework. Review what you wrote down, break it down into a way that fits your situation, explain why it resonates with you, and the steps you can implement from today to make a change. 

It doesn’t stop there. Weekly, I want you to actually look back on these notes and see if perhaps your opinion has changed and if you’re actually implementing the changes into your life. It seems a bit ‘extra’ but, simply just consuming media for the sake of it, will do nothing! 

EXTRACT ALL SOURCES FROM STRESS FROM YOUR LIFE. I mean all. It doesn’t even have to be cutting off people sometimes like telling your mum that you love her but she’s too overbearing, creating a career master plan if not knowing what you’re going to do in the future stresses you out, tidying out that drawer that you’ve been neglecting etc. 

You want to make this journey as easy as possible for you. The best way to start is to make a list of everything that burdens you. Put the list on one side of the page. Then on the other side, you can list the ways you could change any of these things. 

If you’re in a situation that something stresses you out, but you can’t easily let it go, my best recommendation is to create a solution to it instead of extracting it completely. For example, my job stresses me out, but I need the money, then I would talk to whoever is in charge to help support you better. It seems scary, but asking will put you in a much better position than simply shutting up while screaming internally. 

NOURISH YOURSELF. You’ve probably heard it, but I'm going to say it again, and an unhealthy lifestyle will support an unhealthy state of mind. Go out into nature, drink water, do brisk walks everyday in the sunlight, get your daily fibre and have a healthy sleep cycle. 

Doing this in itself will help you become happier over time, but that is only if it becomes second nature. You will not magically renew after drinking 1L of water once, but you will feel the difference after doing it everyday for a month. 

SPIRITUALITY. People who have and practice strong core beliefs, are a lot happier. You get to define what spirituality means to you, because it doesn’t necessarily mean joining a religion. It could mean being really in tune with nature or it could be mindfulness everyday to get in tune with that side of you.

This one is a bit more controversial, because I don’t believe that you should join a religion out of traumatic events, but because you actually want to. So, while I do encourage you exploring that side of you, make sure you’re doing it. 

[rexsjaigeyes]

A trio's tryst

Vax'ildan x female reader x Percy | NSFW, 18+

Words: 4k

Content: threesome, pegging, oral sex, slight voyeurism, overstimulation, cum swallowing (Percy does it), unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, finger-fucking, multiple orgasms

A/N: just dropping this here while i'm still on hiatus 🙈 i'm not done with S2 yet, so this is more in-character for S1 Vax and Percy. also this is crossposted to AO3 if that tickles your fancy. enjoy 😌

You’re not sure how it came to this. In your foggy recollection, you believe it was a stupid little bet that started it all. But you’re not going to complain about the silver practically stolen from you due to your quick loss. Not when defeat means the slick slide of your strap-on inside Vax, and the heavy weight of Percy’s leer as he sits not too far away.

The inn Vox Machina chose for the night is not much better than the usual run-down, shithole joints the party has previously stayed at. With paper-thin walls and the reek of booze permeating nearly every hallway and room, it’s not the sexiest spot for a tryst like the one you’re having now. But even Percy doesn’t seem to mind the uncomfortable setting tonight. And Vax certainly has no complaints.

The half-elf’s tangled brown locks frame his head like a halo on the bed—the perfect complement to the way he holds your gaze, as if he’s unworthy of being touched by a deity like you. His face scrunches in pleasure, trying his hardest not to come undone already. Another steady thrust, and those breathy gasps of his that you adore so much start to grow in volume.

A smug chuckle snaps your attention to the stool on your left. The dim light of the room only illuminates the bed and one other wall. You only catch the glint of Percy’s glasses for a split second before his entire form disappears back into the shadows.

“Any louder, and the whole damn inn will know what we’re up to,” he says. Even with his face hidden from you, it’s clear Percy’s teasing words are only directed at you. He doesn’t bother to address Vax right now because he isn’t the one calling the shots tonight. “I suggest you keep him quiet, dear.” 

Faintly, Vax grumbles a curse beneath his breath, as if the gunslinger’s presence annoys him. But his frustration is only a charade. You all know how Vax occasionally enjoys the special brand of humiliation only Percy can dole out in his signature methodical fashion.

Percy didn’t mention how you should go about keeping Vax silent, but your mind already conjures various ways to do it. With a sly grin, you press one hand to Vax’s cheek, your thumb briefly brushing across his bottom lip.

“Open your mouth,” you whisper. He wastes no time in complying, his pupils somehow growing even larger as two of your fingers slide inside his mouth. “Now suck,” you demand.

Satisfaction takes root deep in your belly while Vax groans around your wet digits. With his immodest noises muffled now, your ears become more attuned to the sharp slap of skin on skin and the obscene slippery sound of Vax’s tight hole taking you deeper.

Percy’s clothes rustle nearby as he readjusts on the stool. You almost miss the soft grunt accompanied by a gruff “fuck” muttered from your left, but your senses feel hyper-aware now. Tingles run along your body with each measured thrust you make and the way Vax’s lean muscles begin to tense beneath you.

You’re getting tired—still slightly unaccustomed to the strength and stamina it takes to thrust a fake cock for this long. You slip your fingers from Vax’s mouth to make a determined path down his straining body. Sweeping past the hard planes of his chest, and then his stomach and hips, your fingers land along the base of his cock. Despite Percy’s previous instruction, he seems to revel in the choked cry that escapes Vax’s lips as you wrap your hand around his length.

“De Rolo,” Vax says through clenched teeth, “quit your giggling in the dark and come here.”

His words make both of you laugh, but you’re in silent agreement with Vax. If Percy doesn’t get his ass over to the bed and touch one of you soon, you’ll spend the rest of the night giving him the cold shoulder.

“As you wish, little bird,” Percy replies with a smirk while emerging from the darkness.

His slender frame towers over you from beside the bed, and he presses one hand to your hip, giving you the extra leverage you need to continue thrusting. Your stomach tightens when he wraps the other hand around Vax’s cock, mirroring the way you’re stroking it while his fingers slightly overlap yours in an intimate caress.

Vax rolls his eyes, although it’s hard to tell if it’s in annoyance or maybe from the pleasure coursing through him. “You know I hate when you call me that,” he argues with a less-than-convincing whine.

“Is that right?” Percy’s thumb lightly squeezes the head of Vax’s cock. Your breath hitches at the sight of his finger slowly swiping the precum beading from the tip. “It doesn't look like you hate it that much.”

Vax seems unable to respond, his fingers fisting the bedsheets and sweat starting to glisten across his chest. He writhes beneath you but still tries to meet your thrusts while bucking his hips up into the pair of hands on his length. Seeing him so vulnerable and desperate makes liquid heat pool between your thighs, and you briefly wonder if you could come from the sight of him alone.

Percy steals your attention, releasing your hip to grip the back of your neck and pull you into a bruising kiss. Your breath escapes your lungs in a whoosh, but you’re grateful for the rougher way he handles you. It’s a stark contrast to the way Vax usually worships you. But you know that Percy will only be as rough as you want him to be—and his calculating nature means he always knows exactly where you’ve drawn the line. 

He smiles against your lips when you pull away a little and gasp, trying to chase the breath he stole from your lungs. Between your thrusting and Percy’s wild affection, you’re sure you’ll suffocate before the night is over.

Percy hums in mocking contemplation as he looks back down at Vax. “He’s right on the edge,” he says, far too satisfied with each pathetically loud whine Vax makes as he tries to hold back his orgasm. “Let’s make him come, together.”

You nod, biting down on your lip as you thrust as deep as you can. It takes a decent amount of concentration to find the right combined rhythm of thrusting and stroking Vax’s cock at the same time. But you follow Percy’s lead, allowing him to guide your hand up and down Vax's shaft while you focus on thrusting a bit harder.

In your distracted state, you jolt when you feel Percy’s other hand slide up your body. You’re frankly jealous of how collected he seems right now, whereas you and Vax look like wild animals. But you also feel a fresh wave of arousal at how effortlessly he can affect both of you. Percy’s hand moves to gently massage your breasts. He takes his time to tease each nipple while Vax writhes with the force of his oncoming orgasm.

Without so much as a warning, Vax shudders and moans before spilling onto both pairs of knuckles and his own taut stomach. You mutter a curse under your breath at the sight of his pulsing cock, and you feel hypnotized as you spread a bit of his cum around his cock.

“Shit, Vax,” you say in slight disbelief, your voice breathy from how turned on you are. “You made quite the mess this time.”

A cute blush graces his cheeks in response, enticing a kiss from you before you carefully slide out of him. Rolling over on the bed, you undo the buckles of your strap-on and lazily throw it to the other end of the mattress. You expect the three of you to take a quick breather now, but a soft whimper draws your attention back to the pair of men. Percy hasn’t stopped touching Vax’s aching cock. He continues to stroke him at an even pace, causing Vax to tremble from the sensitivity.

“A-ah, please,” Vax cries out, his fingers gripping Percy’s wrist.

But you know that he secretly loves the overstimulation. That’s why he’s not using his strength to yank Percy’s hand away or scramble out of his reach. Instead, his comically pouty look gets directed at you, and Vax tries again to beg for something he hasn’t decided yet—either for mercy or for more.

“Use your words,” Percy snaps. His low growl sends shivers down your spine, even though the command is not for you. “What do you want, Vax’ildan?”

Vax gulps, closing his eyes and taking a second to collect himself before returning his needy gaze to you. There’s no mistaking who he’s speaking to when he whimpers, “I need more. Please let me taste you, darling.”

Anticipation lights a fire in your chest, and you’re itching to give Vax exactly what he wants. But you glance at Percy first, waiting to see if he’ll agree.

Percy grins at you, and you can see a devilish plan beginning to take shape in his mind. “You heard the man,” he says before giving you a nod of permission.

Eagerly, you crawl to the top of the bed and press a gentle kiss to Vax’s awaiting lips. He groans into your mouth, obviously desperate for the moment when your thighs settle along either side of his head. But as you begin to brace your hands against the headboard, Percy’s tut of disapproval cuts in.

“No, no,” he chides from behind you. “Turn around and face me instead.”

You turn above Vax’s increasingly impatient mouth, being careful not to accidentally kneel on his long hair, and wait to lock eyes with Percy before taking a proper seat. Vax’s slender fingers grip your hips near-painfully, but you feel satisfied knowing he’s looking forward to this as much as you are. Finally, Percy nods in approval, and it takes an insane amount of willpower to descend gently.

It’s ungodly how good Vax is at this. A shudder already racks through you as his tongue glides expertly along your clit. It’s when he gasps against your pussy that you realize why Percy wanted you in this position. Your eyes fly open—you barely even noticed how tight you had shut them seconds ago—and your stomach flips at the sight of Percy’s tongue tracing a leisurely path down Vax’s cock before fully taking him into his mouth.

Percy keeps eye contact with you while reducing Vax to a moaning mess against your cunt. He takes his time teasing and working Vax back up to a second orgasm. Vax, on the other hand, wastes no time devouring you. Even though he seems far too eager to make you unravel, his tongue still moves in measured strokes across your pussy. He knows exactly what pace and amount of pressure you prefer against your throbbing clit. And he relishes in the way your body reacts so easily for him.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, rocking your hips against his mouth with wild abandon. “Just like that…don’t stop, Vax.”

Your pleasure only seems to fuel the desperate whimpers and groans muffled against your cunt. If you hadn’t been in this same position with Vax before, you would have thought he’s only acting this way because of Percy’s skilled tongue. But you know how much Vax savors the taste and feel of you. More than that, he especially loves when you take control and grind down on his face however you like. He enjoys being used by you.

Percy slides his mouth off Vax’s length, using his hand to replace the sensation while he addresses you. “He’s going to come soon,” he says with a cocky grin, “and you’re close too. You better beat him to it.” His tongue and lips return to the tip of Vax’s flushed cock, resuming the unrelenting pace he set before.

Vax is immediately on the same page as Percy. He sets a laser-focus to your clit, sucking it into his mouth while holding your body down firm against him. He's determined to make you come first, and that thought alone causes you to writhe as the pleasure crests within you. Through heavy-lidded eyes, you watch Percy groan around Vax's cock, and it causes a chain reaction of moans and vibrations against each other's skin.

Your nails dig into Vax's chest, and your body shakes as your orgasm finally overtakes you like a tidal wave. It takes barely a second before Vax joins you, overwhelmed with the feeling of your thighs clenching around his head coupled with Percy practically deep-throating him. Vax grips you even tighter, and you almost feel bad that he's unable to see the delicious act of Percy swallowing every drop of cum that Vax gives him. He even makes a show of swiping any stray pearl beads and sucking it off his fingers.

You moan softly, going slightly limp against Vax before gathering your remaining strength to gently roll off him. Lying beside his quivering body, you run your fingers along his chest and snort in amusement when Percy does a few more teasing strokes of Vax's oversensitive cock.

“Oh, gods,” Vax whines. “Take it easy, Percival. I can’t take much more of your cruelty.”

“Alright,” Percy concedes, his voice sounding a little amused. “I'll have mercy on you.” He releases Vax and turns his attention to you, slowly crawling up the bed while pressing kisses all over your skin. He hums in delight before saying, “You both did so well.”

Percy continues caressing your thighs, moving higher to kiss your hips and then the soft swell of your belly. He remains below your chest, leaving ample room for Vax to kiss your neck while skimming feather-light touches across your breasts. They take turns whispering filthy praises to you, saying how beautiful you looked as you rode Vax's face.

They know exactly what they're doing with their honeyed words and reverent touches. Fortunately for them, it's working like a charm. Your body grows hotter under their affection, and soon you ache for so much more.

“Percy, please,” you murmur while lightly tugging on his hair. “Just fuck me already.” The two men chuckle, clearly enjoying how desperate you've become now.

“I guess we've kept her waiting long enough,” Vax tells Percy with a smile.

Percy tilts his head with a grin but stops his teasing kisses that skirt around where you need him most. Finally, he readjusts to kneel back on his heels before palming himself through his pants. You take the opportunity to drag your eyes down his body, appreciating the way he leisurely works to unzip his pants and then pull his throbbing cock out from beneath his boxers.

With how torturously slow he exposed himself, it surprises you how quickly he tugs you closer, gesturing for you to kneel in front of him. He guides your body, pressing your back to his chest so you’re still facing Vax at the head of the bed. The rough texture of his clothes against your naked skin feels a little odd, but you shiver at the thought of Percy still fully dressed and desperate to be inside you.

Your legs are slightly wobbly, still feeling a bit sore in the knees from fucking Vax, but Percy keeps your thighs pushed apart in the perfect position for him to slowly slide into you. The stretch feels amazing, and the two of you sigh in unison once he bottoms out.

You can’t tell if it’s your arousal or your tired body that’s causing you to shake a bit, but Vax immediately notices the way you tremble. He’s still recovering from his previous orgasms, but that doesn’t stop him from sitting up and leaning closer to you, an adorably dazed but concerned look on his face.

“I’ve got you, darling,” Vax whispers. “Just hold onto me.” He pulls your hands to rest on his shoulders, allowing you to use him as leverage while Percy begins to fuck you at an easy pace.

While you get lost in the feeling of Percy’s cock, Vax’s lips trace the curve of your breast before moving to your collarbone and neck. He keeps lavishing your body with kisses, treating you like glass while Percy’s hands grip your hips roughly. When you start rocking your hips back in between thrusts, Percy takes the cue to speed up a bit, pushing himself even deeper as you gasp.

Vax’s fingers tickle your sides, briefly skirting past Percy’s knuckles with a knowing grin before sliding down to your swollen clit. He takes his time to tease you, playing with your clit at a languid pace while Percy sets a steady rhythm that makes your moans grow louder. You’re not sure how much longer you’ll last with these two men determined to make you come as fast and hard as humanly possible. They both know exactly what buttons to press to get the reactions they want from you.

Vax’s teeth latch onto a sensitive spot on your neck, and that somehow pushes you over the edge. You crumple in his arms, crying out from how fierce your second orgasm is. Neither of the men are surprised you came so fast. It was inevitable with the way Vax circled your clit with the same precision as before. What’s really surprising is the way Percy moans your name, his voice strained while he grasps your hips harder.

Vax takes the opportunity to get some payback for Percy’s teasing. “Going to come so soon, Percival?” he taunts.

“Oh, fuck off,” Percy replies through gritted teeth. “You would too if you could feel her right now…”

You can feel your muscles still pulsing around him, and you can’t help but focus your concentration on clamping down just a bit more. You like to watch him suffer just a little bit—and so does Vax, of course.

Percy curses in response before frantically asking, “Where do you want me to–”

“Inside,” you respond quickly. You wrap one of your hands behind you to hold onto his hip, urging him to stay where he is. 

Percy doesn’t hold back any longer. He moans your name while spilling inside you. You gasp into Vax’s mouth as he pulls you into a kiss, allowing you and Percy some time to come down from the intensity of your orgasms. All three of you seem to sigh in post-coital bliss, and Vax helps you off of Percy’s cock before his cum starts dripping too far down your thighs.

They both help you lie down on the bed before Vax collapses beside you. But Percy looks like he’s not nearly done playing his little games. To be fair, you also still feel a little revved up, even after two orgasms. Regardless, that little glint in Percy’s eyes as he crawls back up the bed makes you shiver.

“Why do you look like you’re about to kidnap me, de Rolo?” you joke.

He cracks a smile but doesn’t stop advancing toward you until his face hovers over yours. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and says, “Just give us one more, dear.” It’s less of a command and more of a question. But he knows you’re not going to turn down another orgasm. Although you feel a bit fatigued, you’re greedy for one last round, so you nod your head.

Vax groans dramatically beside you. “Gods, really? The two of you are insatiable,” he teases, earning a sharp nudge of your elbow in his side.

“Don’t act like you aren’t either,” you argue.

“Touché.”

Your responding laugh gets cut off with a gasp while Percy coats his fingers in his remaining cum spilling past your puffy lips. He dips a soaked finger inside your cunt, testing your reactions before giving you a second one when you’re ready. He watches your face closely, mouth twitching in a smirk as his fingers curl at just the right spot.

Your back arches off the bed, and Vax slides a bit closer to gently kiss your body wherever he can reach. Without exchanging any more words with the other man, Vax already knows what to do to enhance the desire spreading throughout your body. He leans his head down to your breasts and sucks a nipple into his mouth. In tandem, one of his hands glides down your body. His fingers tease your clit, occasionally spreading out a bit to allow Percy to flick the needy bud with his tongue.

The two of them work wordlessly with one common goal. They barely need to communicate to reduce your limbs to jelly, and you secretly love how experienced they are with your body language to be able to pull this off so expertly. The only sounds between the two of them are Percy’s whispered praises and Vax’s soft moans muffled by the sloppy kisses he presses all over your tits. When Vax’s eyes meet yours again, you realize your nails are digging into his bicep. But he doesn’t let up, and neither does Percy.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry before you stutter, “I– I’m so close, please…”

Vax is the one to grant you permission this time. His lips curve into a smile against your skin. “Hm, then come for us, darling.”

The two of them continue their song and dance, watching every twitch and jolt of your body with bated breath. Vax’s eyelids flutter with desire, staring at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world. And when you turn your head to Percy, you swear you see a hint of a sadistic grin before he bites down on your inner thigh, determined to leave marks as a reminder of tonight.

There’s no stopping your pleasure as it barrels into you with full force. Your chest heaves while you desperately try to catch your breath—although Percy is doing his damndest to prolong your orgasm just like he did with Vax. His fingers continue curling slowly a few more times, determined to wring every last drop of desire from your exhausted body.

Vax murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine with how the two of them take such care with bringing you down from your high. After Percy finally relents and pulls his fingers from your pussy, he flops down on the other side of your body, opposite from Vax.

Vax’s aftercare is always the best, but with Percy added in the mix, it’s like being pampered royalty. They take turns pressing tender kisses to your heated skin and brushing back the sweat-slicked strands of hair from your face. Percy dutifully pulls out a handkerchief to carefully wipe away the mess along yours and Vax’s lower halves, promising to draw a bath when you’re all ready for it. And Vax lets you play with his hair while he whispers how good you made him feel earlier. Percy takes a moment to check in with Vax too, making sure he didn’t do anything that made either of you uncomfortable.

After a beat of silence, Percy hums in quiet contemplation. “To think Scanlan was technically the reason for tonight…”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you interrupt with a groan. “That little shit fleeced me!” You turn your look of playful annoyance to Vax. “We would have won that damn bet if you didn’t beg me to fuck you.”

“It’s not my fault,” Vax says defensively. Although there’s a smug look on his face that says he isn't sorry at all. “Three days without your touch is a long fucking time.”

“Vax,” you say through gritted teeth, “you barely lasted a few hours, let alone one day.”

He chuckles with a shrug. “At least I lasted longer than the nobleman just did.”

His jab at Percy earns him a light backhanded slap on the chest from the nobleman himself, and you can’t help but giggle at the way they try to play-fight around your body. Regardless of how much these two banter, you know they equally enjoy each other’s presence. And no matter how much hard-earned coin was lost in that annoying bet, you’ll remember to thank Scanlan for his antics this time.

~~~~~~~

thanks for reading! <3 if you enjoyed it, please reblog!

[jewelleria]

I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be. 

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate. 

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified. 

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map. 

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle. 

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more. 

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop. 

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments. 

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on. 

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not. 

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways. 

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine. 

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war. 

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this: 

I am a Jew. 

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love. 

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners. 

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee! 

Then they sent me this: 

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die. 

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind. 

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake. 

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired. 

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people? 

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews. 

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like. 

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for. 

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war. 

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why. 

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be. 

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss