headcanon: 'the tamriel ten'
a sex achievement akin to the mile high club, for when you've fucked all ten of the (playable) races of tamriel
eg 'I'm just a Breton away from my Tamriel Ten.'
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💕 OUR MUSES' ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP (+ JACOB) for @socially-awkward-skeleton
happy valentines day skelly~, i was motivated to get this one done today~ bonus wip of the polycule muzzle fic under the cut as a little lightly smutty treat <3
There’s something sadistic and hungry glimmering in their eyes. It’s the same, predatory look a carnivore gets when it closes in on its prey. The chase may be over, but now a different game has begun.
Swallowing thickly, she fights the urge to shrink back as her heart skips in her chest. She eyes them warily and asks, “What is this?”
“You’ve been misbehaving, Bunny,” Kit says, sliding off the desk and sauntering over to crouch in front of her. Her smile doesn't quite meet her eyes. “You know how we feel about disobedience.”
Sybille’s brow furrows in confusion and it takes her a long moment to figure out what they’re talking about. “This is about the finger?” Her memory of the incident is vague, partially obscured by the red haze of the trials, but she does recall the explosion of warm blood filling her mouth and the crunch of bone between her teeth. She turns furiously to Jacob. “Tell your men to stop stickin’ their damn hands between the bars!”
“Trust me, they’ve learned their lesson,” he says, rising from his seat. He stalks towards her, dragging the chair behind him, smiling wickedly. “But you still need to learn yours.”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes, giving her head a small shake. But then Kit’s frigid hands are sliding underneath her shirt. Her core flexes under her touch and she sucks in a sharp breath. Kit lets out a surprised, but pleased hum when she moves a hand up to cup Sybille’s breast. Her smile widens. “Laundry day?” she asks, hiking her shirt up to reveal her bare tits.
Indeed, she hadn’t been wearing a bra when Jacob had hauled her back to the Veterans Center.
Between Kit’s ministrations and the general chilled air of the mountains, Sybille’s nipples are already stiff and peaked. Her head tilts back, clenching her jaw and biting back a moan, as she breathes heavily through her nose.
“You’ve been acting like an animal, honey” Jacob states simply. “You don’t get to be upset now that we’re treating you like one.”
The growl that rumbles in her throat only emphasizes his point.
Kit leans forward, taking one of her nipples in her mouth and pinching it between her teeth while she rolls the other one between her thumb and forefinger. The punishing pain jolts straight to Sybille's core and this time she can’t suppress her groan.
“We gotta punish you first, Bunny,” Kit says as she rises to her feet. “But if you’re strong and take it like a good girl, maybe we’ll give you a treat.”
Sybille takes a deep breath and resigns herself to the game they’re playing. They’re gonna use her. Chew her up and spit her out like she did that man’s index finger. She’s not sure whether she’s a rung above or below Deputy Pratt in their little fucked up hierarchy, and while it sickens her that she allows herself to be treated this way, a morbid curiosity overwhelms her. Dark desire pools in her gut and she desperately wants to know what they have planned.
You are meat.
They stare at her, awaiting her response. She supposes she should be grateful that they’re at least giving her the illusion of choice. Her chest heaves and she swallows thickly. “Fine,” she says. Then she challenges, “Do your worst.”
“Attagirl,” Jacob breathes.
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"Will you free my Palestine"
Sticker spotted in Brunswick, Victoria
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Get drunk, make out, laugh until you're sore, cry until you're sick. I want to do it all. Let's get through this crumbling world together, happy valentines day.
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