#and it’s rekindled that desire to have my own collection of them

[lamentinglover]

I can be trusted to not hoard vintage lamps I can be trusted to not hoard vintage lamps I can be trusted to not hoard vintage lamps I can be trusted to not hoard vintage lamps (lying)

[tinycurlyfry]

Thinking about how Buggy and Shanks parallel Zoro and Luffy but if Luffy dropped his ambitions. The agreement between Zoro and Luffy was that Zoro would follow Luffy, be his first mate, be his swordsman, the first member to join his crew and set sail to achieve Luffy’s dream of being Pirate King IF Luffy never got in the way of Zoro’s dream of being the Strongest Swordsman in the world.

Buggy and Shanks were “apprentices” to Roger (and really more or less they were his sons). They were learning from Roger and learning what being a pirate SHOULD BE. So as apprentices, it would go without saying (at least as far as Buggy is concerned) that that means they need to be the ones to carry Roger’s Legacy. That they should be the ones to get their captain’s treasure and carry out what he wanted for the world. We see it in what Buggy is CURRENTLY doing. That he wants to inspire people to achieve their dreams. Crocodile sees piracy as a business, and Mihawk sees his position as a power pirate as a means to live a peaceful, lazy life where no one would dare bother him. But they don’t have the  ROMANTICISM of a dream anymore. And all those years ago Buggy heard Shanks say he was no longer throwing himself into the romanticism of pirating and adventuring anymore. He’d be a pirate sure, but there was no drive, no DREAM behind it anymore. 

And then he asks Buggy to still be a part of his crew. I can only imagine what that request must have felt like to Buggy. For Shanks to tell him “I won’t be the pirate king you saw me as. I’m not seeking any dream. But come be a part of my mediocracy. Just settle for less, Buggy.”

Now of course, Shanks still went and became a HUGE big name pirate. One that achieved Emperor level. But in that moment? In that moment it felt like Shanks was asking Buggy to give up on his dream, settle for being a pirate simply to be a pirate, and betray what they had learned from Roger.

Luffy was never going to get in the way of Zoro’s dream. Zoro’s desire was Luffy’s desire and vice versa, because as they said themselves in the show- the pirate king shouldn’t have anything less than the best swordsman on his crew. But Buggy’s desire was not Shank’s desire. I’d argue it probably still isn’t! I know Shanks is now making his move for the One Piece, but I honestly don’t know that that is his true objective. I think he thinks his place is to BE THERE when the battle for the One Piece happens. He placed a bet on the new generation and he is going to be there to see that bet come to fruition.

And I think part of that conversation between Shanks and Buggy was how they were each grieving. They had both lost a captain, but also a father.

But Buggy has not given up. His own dream was rekindled this most recent chapter (yes partially because he believes Shanks finally wants to be pirate king too), but partially because he finds himself SURROUNDED by people who know longer believe in the child-like wonder of adventure and treasure and the DREAM of becoming PIRATE KING. I think Buggy HAD also given up down the line. I think we saw a Buggy who’d lost his way at the beginning of the series. I do think Buggy doesn’t have the... best morals... But whether it’s intentional or not Buggy is not who we saw at the beginning of the series and he’s rallying so many people under him, and giving them sanctuary, and honestly? Reaching a king’s status to so many people. 

But honestly? If Luffy suddenly went “You know what? I’m happy with what I’ve got here. I don’t need to be pirate king anymore. We don’t need to get the One Piece.” The Straw Hats would be SO LOST. Sure maybe they wouldn’t all get immediately angry or upset as Buggy had and asked “Well, what DO you want then?” But they are a crew made from the collection of DREAMS. And everyone’s dream is their own dreams. Zoro’s ambition became Luffy’s ambition, but that would never had happened if there was even a small chance that Luffy would be satisfied with anything that fell lower than reaching their dreams.

All this to say I’m proud of Buggy and support him as Leader of Cross Guild LMAO I hope he continues to fail upwards.

[eatmangoesnekkid]

I generally do not care 5 cents about celebrity culture but I find the conversations around Ashanti and Nelly’s rekindled relationship interesting. Many say he should have proposed to her as soon as they got back together. Others think she did too much by buying him his dream car. The fact that Ashanti has that kind of wealth is remarkably outstanding and powerful. Archetypal energy! I don't think it occurs to anyone that maybe Ashanti does not want to be a wife and is content with living life on her terms. Even if she does desire to be a wife and they get married and have children, the social programming is so thick and deep and wide that women never allow themselves to consider the possibility that maybe a woman doesn’t want to be married and/or birth children. Ultimately this channeling is not so much about their relationship. It is, however, celebrating the awareness in how the ability to merely consider other options in how we perceive womanhood, this story, or anything else.... installs a level of freedom and expansion into our magnetic field that we can transfer into other areas of our personal lives. Transmutation. How we perceive -even something as distant to us as celebrity culture—is everything true and holy for what we create in our own lives in the future. There is nothing wrong with having the authentic desire to be married and have children. I find that when it's truthful, it is beautiful. And what's also true is that so many women in marriages are bored to death and miserable AF. Not all women enjoy being mothers or being married. Many will never admit that while they love and adore their children, they don't love motherhood and unconsciously numb out and dissociate. But I can feel it. I have always felt it. I started noticing these patterns in women when I was in my teens, but didn't have the language or maturity to name them. A pattern master is who I was by the age of 15. If you want to begin to master any part of life, you must be willing to look at the patterns and re-pattern your subconscious accordingly. That's why I truly believe one of the greatest uplevels happen when a woman stops believing that being a wife or having children is the ultimate prize and value metric. Having a lover (or lovers) who loves you, adores you, honors you, respects you, adventures the globe with you, invests in you and is not trying to control you or place you in a box as you do the same thing is the pinnacle of love and winning, whether dating, in a committed partnership, or married. The more you unlearn programming and conditioning, shift how you think and perceive reality, the more you realize that this world was built to extract from women, to shrink her spiritual capacity by tying down her life force energy, making her more subservient and exhausted than truly alive and free to pleasurably overflow in her body and life as ordained by Source to live. Less miserable exhausted women and more fully awakened pleasured women in touch with nature and ritual are essential for tapping into real healing solutions that open up the collective mind and heart in a violent chaotic world. Whether taking dance lessons, traveling the world, bathing in sweetwaters, making love, or getting married and having babies, accessing real pleasure has to be an important part of her life. Think about it: She is the only mammal on earth whose body contains an organ for which the only purpose is pleasure. This divine-given anatomical design has to begin to mean something to you. -India Ame'ye, A Plump Clitoris Venusian Channeling

[aonunog]

Introducting... My Miraculous DR

WARNING - do not read further if you arent a shifter

»» ────── Background Context ────── ««

The Miraculous jewels are scattered around the planet. Only one guardian remained, only one miracle box.

In the dark streets of new york, a strange man appeared. A superhero in black. The bat miraculous was found. For years afterwards, he would search the city retrieving them from the underworld. Unfortunately, this only brought more light to the concept of miraculous jewels, and the scramble to find them was not always won by justice. Soon him alone could not fight them.

He only had one other, an insignificant bug. The spider miraculous was not very sought after but was incredibly powerful to those that knew. The spider would bring them all together, weaved in her extensive web.

One night, while passing by the opera he spotted a girl sat at the steps. One moment of eye contact was all he needed to know she was the one. In her eyes he saw an energy that had been dulled over the years, ready to be rekindled. They never saw eachother again after that day.

On the way home, once my driver had showed up, I found a strange box hidden under all the loose objects in my bag. Ever since then ive been the one and only spidergal (lol)

Me and the bat would go collecting miraculous around the city and the country. We would use both my skills of deduction and his skills of destruction to track them down. He acted like a mentor for me, and I would never have become so great without him.

I was spidergirl for almost a year in new york, until my parents had to move to paris for my mothers job and my ballet. I was sad to be leaving batty, but we had already taken most of the miraculous here and he had decided to renounce his and dedicate his life to keeping them

»» ────── My DRself ────── ««

I am almost 15 years old and have lived in new york my whole life. I was the only one of all my sisters to be homeschooled so that I could focus on my ballet and music. When I was 12 I went to a private academy specifically for dancers and I was in a class of about four. It wasnt the same. Now that I am moving to paris I am finally allowed to go to a larger school.

Stats ;

I am 160cm, and in terms of body I am very 'lean'. I have done ballet my whole life so working out has been a normal part of daily life.

face hair body

»» ────── Relationships ────── ««

Family ;

I have four sisters, and I am the middle child. My father is always abroad and owns an engineering company that has massive ties in f1 racing and aeroplanes, so we get a lot of free stadium seats and flights. My mother was both a ballerina and an accountant. She loved ballet but her greatest desire was to have a large family so she worked hard and built her own accounting firm to support a big family. She works alongside a lot of fashion and jewelry brands.

Friends ;

Back in new york I never had any friends, since I never went out or to school.

Once I moved to paris I was suddenly thrown into a ton of new relationships. My mother had many friends back here since she used to live here so she arranged for me to meet their kids.

The first was marinette, a bakers daughter. We became best friends immediately, and later on we found out eachothers secret identities. She likes baking, I like cooking. She loves singing, I love dancing. We fit together well.

Then my mother took me to meet the son of a ceo she works very closely with. Turns out we already knew eachother, we met on our first days of school and bonded over this being our first normal school.

[insightmyanmarpodcast]

Reclamation of an Identity

The words of Jesse Phenow, taken from a recent podcast conversation, encapsulate the profound significance of refugees reclaiming their identity and pride. The story of his friend, who had to assume a Thai identity to fit in and be treated well, highlights the challenges faced by refugees in navigating their sense of self in unfamiliar environments. It speaks to the pressure to conform, to shed their heritage, and to blend in seamlessly with the dominant culture.

Forced to conceal their true identities, these individuals experience a sense of shame and loss, as if their history, culture, and people are somehow diminished or unworthy. It is a struggle that many refugees face, compelled to adopt an easier, more socially acceptable narrative that erases their unique heritage and backgrounds.

However, as Jesse's friend discovered, the power of connection through social media and witnessing the ongoing conflict in their home country can ignite a transformative awakening. It rekindles the flame of belonging, inspiring them to reclaim their land, their people, and their cultural heritage. They realize that they have a rich history worth preserving, and that their identity should be cherished, not hidden away.

The emergence of organizations like 'I Am Knyaw' demonstrates the resilience and determination of these refugees to assert their equal worth. It signifies a collective movement towards reclaiming their true selves, shedding the labels imposed upon them, and demanding recognition for their unique identities. Through this process of reclamation, they aim to reshape societal perceptions, challenging the notion that their culture is lesser or insignificant.

The journey of refugees in reclaiming their identity and pride is a beautiful and transformative process. It reminds us of the resilience of the human spirit and the enduring power of culture and heritage. It also highlights the importance of acknowledging and honoring the stories, struggles, and aspirations of refugees worldwide. Ultimately, this movement serves as an inspiration and a call to action, urging us all to recognize the equal worth and dignity of every individual, regardless of their refugee status.

“Really strengthening this feeling of reclamation, the desire to be valued as Knyaw, not to be called Karen, and to be seen as equal. It’s just beautiful!”

— Jesse Phenow

“I want to speak to this reclamation of identity. I won't share this person's name, but I have a beloved friend, a brother, who is Knyaw. He grew up in the refugee camp, and then was able to go to a Thai school that was near the refugee camp. And while he was at Thai school, he had to assume a Thai identity in order to fit in, and to be treated well. Then eventually he resettled in New York.

And when he's in New York, he's one of the first Knyaw people there! He’s going to school and people are asking him, ‘Where are you from?’ And this guy goes on to share that he's from Thailand. I think after the first couple of times, he starts to realize that it's just so much easier, rather than identifying yourself as Karen, where most people will say, ‘Oh, you're Korean?’ he would actually just identify himself as Thai. And I think he kind of went on to share with me that he felt ashamed. He felt ashamed to be identified as a refugee, as someone who is stateless, who didn't have a land.

So really his entire early years and into high school, and then eventually college, just telling people he was Thai! And I think, again, that the proximity that social media has created to the conflict in Myanmar has, in this individual in particular, ignited a sense of like, ‘No, you know, what? I do have a land. I do have a people that are my own; I do have a history and a culture, that's worth reclaiming.’ Because there are people who are fighting and dying to reclaim it, to stake it, to value it as not lesser than but equal to.

They have just completely done a 180°! Now they are co-leading an organization called ‘I Am Knyaw.’ Really strengthening this feeling of reclamation, the desire to be valued as Knyaw, not to be called Karen, but to be referred to as Knyaw, and to be seen as equal. It's just beautiful! It's a special thing, especially here at The Urban Village, to be a part of that movement to help, programmatically and logistically, in that movement. It is a cool thing to witness and to be a part of.”

Listen from Insight Myanmar Podcast Blog - Insight Myanmar https://ift.tt/VCwOmvD

[buckyownsmylife]

Oh, well, imagine - Andy Barber smut

The one where Andy gets tired of living a double life 

Word count: 2K<

Warnings: smut, sugar relationship, infidelity (reader is the other woman), daddy kink, breeding kink, dubcon because Andy does stuff without getting reader’s consent beforehand, unprotected sex.

A/N: this was written for @donutloverxo​‘s #sugary4kchallenge! I took the opportunity to write something in the same universe as my first Andy fic, I write sins not tragedies, but this could be read by itself. Congrats on 4k, sweetheart!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The sound of the door being slammed startled me, almost making me drop the dishes I’d been washing. My eyebrows furrowed, confused and worried about what was going on. Only Andy had the key to the apartment, so I wasn’t curious as to who it was, just what had him behaving that way. In all the time we’d known each other, I’d never once seen him angry.

Still, when he appeared by the kitchen, it was clear that was the case. His chest heaved with the simple task of breathing, and when his eyes fell on me, they seemed darker. I almost felt scared - I probably would, if I didn’t trust him so much.

“Andy?” I asked, but he immediately shook his head.

“Not what you call me, princess.” Automatically, I stood up straighter, body electrified by the meaning behind his words. I knew what he wanted, even if it was clearly that more than desire. He needed this.

“Daddy.” He nodded once, clearly pleased at my acknowledgment. But there was still so much I needed to understand. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Instead of answering, he just kept staring at me long and hard, making me feel small and naked under his attention.

“Come here.”

My legs obeyed instantly, having been trained long enough to do exactly what he said without having to think about it. “Good girl.” The compliment was like some pavlovian buzzer to my poor cunt. I could feel the fabric of my underwear begin to uncomfortably stick to my lower lips, and I shifted from one leg to the other as I waited for further instructions.

“Daddy needs you tonight,” he finally began explaining, a single finger running under my jaw to make sure I’d keep our eyes connected. “Will you let me do whatever I want to you and this body?”

The perspective excited me, and I didn’t know if I was stupid for it, but I found myself nodding anyway. At the end of the day, I trusted Andy with my life. I knew he wouldn’t push me further than I could take it, and if he ever came close to it, I always had my safeword.

“Yes, Daddy.” He rewarded me with a kiss, but it wasn’t a soft one. His tongue invaded my mouth and before I could even realize what I was doing, I had to find a hold on his shirt, standing on my tippy toes just so I wouldn’t completely tip over.

“Are you excited to help daddy?” He asked, fingers already making quick work of my clothes as I trembled with excitement in his hold. He looked feverish, like he couldn’t hold back anymore, his mouth nipping and sucking and biting every inch of skin he could find.

“Yes, Daddy,” I repeated, forever his subservient servant, knowing that aiding him would bring me to pleasures I’d never known before we’d met. I watched as he licked his lips, taking in my naked body before his, the kitchen a mess of my discarded clothes and abandoned dinner, but instead of taking off his clothes, his hands went directly to his belt.

“Lay back on the floor.” It took me a full second to understand what he was saying, but thankfully he didn’t read it as hesitation. Instead, despite his eager state, he watched as I slowly lowered myself to the cold marble, stopping once I was on my knees to make sure of what he really wanted.

“Lay back,” he repeated, nodding towards me, and despite my confusion, I did as he said, gasping once my naked back met the icy stone. My nipples hardened against the air of the silent apartment and under his gaze, and I gasped when he knelt before me, hands reaching out for my thighs as he pulled me even closer.

“So, so beautiful,” he moaned, and I watched stunned as he lowered himself until he was eye-level with my navel, and I felt more than saw as his tongue stuck out and collected the wetness that was already threatening to drip from me. “And mine, all mine.”

The first time he’d said that, there was a conversation to be held right after we both came back from our highs. I needed to make sure that he remembered what this was, and he laughed when I tried to phrase it as sweetly as possible.

“I know this isn’t conventional,” he’d said, “but as long as it lasts, you’re mine. In and out of this apartment, but especially in this bed.” It didn’t take too long to realize that he was right.

I truly was his. My body responded to him in a way it’d never reacted to anyone else before. And I knew that whenever this little affair of ours came to an end, he would still forever own parts of me I’d never even realized I had before we met.

Andy’s P.O.V.

My mind was becoming hazier by the second. I needed to make sure she understood what was going to happen before I completely lost it. But first, I knew I’d hate myself if I didn’t take advantage of the delicious meal laid bare before me.

“Daddy!” She screamed, fingers curling around my strands as I lapped her up, rubbing my bearded jaw on the apex of her thighs. She was everything. I had never wanted anyone the way that I wanted her. And I knew that I never would again.

It was why I couldn’t lose her.

Connecting our eyes, I pushed two fingers inside of her and immediately curled them as I searched for that sweet spot I’d memorized so many months before, knowing I’d struck gold when she cried out for me again.

“Yeah, baby… I know you like that, sweet girl. So sweet for me, aren’t you?” I knew she wouldn’t be able to answer, and I didn’t mind. I could barely speak myself. The need to have her was just too strong, and so I kept licking her pussy and fucking it with my fingers until I felt her clench around my digits, not even waiting for her to calm down as I immediately raised to my knees and worked on releasing my member from its confines.

“Better get ready, princess… I won’t be able to stop until I’m done with you.” The lust in her hazy eyes was unmistakable, but just as I was about to plunge into her, warm hands found their way inside my shirt, holding my chest to stop me. 

“Andy… the condom…” but I wasn’t having it.

“No,” I announced it, the finality in my voice clear as day as I pushed her arms down against the floor and penetrated her slowly, making sure to watch her jaw going slack as it always did at my first thrust.

When I saw that the initial shock had started to subdue and she was about to argue, I took her lips with mine, devouring her mouth the way I’d done with her pussy just seconds before. “I’m fucking you just like this, and you’re gonna take it.”

She wiggled underneath me, but it seemed more like she was going through the motions of showing that she didn’t want that than actually trying to make me stop.

It didn’t stop me. She would never be able to stop me. Not when I was in this mindset, not when I needed her so much. “I’m tired of wanting you,” I admitted. “I’m tired of wanting you, having you and then going back to wanting you again. I will never have my fill of you, I know that now. I need you.”

Her pussy clenched around me sporadically, her moans escaping her lips as she failed to speak when my hips grew quicker, my thrusts more forceful. “I need you more than sexually. I’m desperate for you, baby.”

And finally, she stopped squirming, her eyes suddenly widening in realization as my voice betrayed all of the emotions I was feeling. “I want to come home to you, Y/N. Only you.”

My confession earned her surrender. I felt her muscles relax underneath me, a sign of her acceptance of my new quest for ownership of her body, and so I could finally release her hands to run mine all over her skin.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” I whispered once the tempo became softer, but no less passionate. “I haven’t fucked her since we met.” I could see the shock in her expression, and I knew what she would argue.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” I shook my head at her silliness, stroking her cheek after I kissed her one more time. I could see my future in her eyes, even if she didn’t allow herself to see hers in mine.

“I want to get you pregnant, Y/N.” And there it was. The truth and my heart, stripped of all pretense, exposed for her to see. And if I feared the rejection, the way her eyes softened before she pulled me to another kiss sealed our fate.

“I love you so fucking much.” And so we made passionate, desperate sex on the kitchen floor. I fucked her so hard, it didn’t take much to have her drooling for me. I drowned all of my worries and sorrows in her sweet pussy, making sure to worship every single inch of her body with my lips and tongue.

“I’m gonna keep you forever, princess,” I promised, heart aching just at the thought of ever losing her. “She won’t ever take you from me. Ever.” At the reminder of the reality of our situation, the fact that she was “the other one”, her body writhed underneath me, her struggle to fight back once again rising, but I wasn’t having any of it.

“Ever, baby,” I promised against her lips, silencing her cries with a deep, sloppy kiss that only ended when I needed to gather some air. “I can’t even think of having to live without you.” 

The rhythm of our hips finding one another kept up, the sounds growing exponentially wetter with each second, with each drop of her arousal that collected on her lower lips, lubricating my member and aiding my goal to fill her up until it lathered the floor beneath us.

“You won my heart,” I confessed, making sure that she’d see the honesty deep in my eyes. “You left me no choice but to fall for you. Now I won’t live without you.” A desperate cry tore from deep within her, rekindling the passion with which I fucked her. Normally I was so sweet to her, so patient. But I knew she liked this as well. She liked to be fucked like a whore, even if she was as far removed from one as possible.

“Call my name, sweet girl.” It was a plea, a desperate need to blur the lines between what our relationship was and what I wanted it to become until they disappeared altogether. “Say you are mine. Say it.”

She was drooling now, and I knew how hard it was for her to find the words I needed her to say as she succumbed to bliss right there, on the kitchen floor, with me. Still, her scream penetrated my hazy mind, adding to the overwhelming tightness that squeezed me, begging for my cum, “I’m yours! I’m yours, Andy.”

The aftermath found us breathless, with flushed chest and flushed cheeks. I don’t think I’d ever seen anything quite as beautiful as the nervous but hopeful look with which she gazed at me. I knew what she needed to hear, and with a kiss on her forehead, I reassured her, “Let’s go to bed, princess. You won’t be sleeping alone tonight.”

And as we cuddled the night away, the unspoken became clear and clear. Not tonight, nor ever again.

[earnestly-endlessly]

Cherik angst!

Ooooh the angst!! The cherik fandom has an abundance of angst fics and I could probably make a list of hundred fics to recommend, but these are some of my favourite angsty cherik fics. I should warn you though, some of these require tissues.

Cherik Angst

Everyday Love in Stockholm – tahariel

Summary: Magneto is the ruler of the posthuman world.

His only secret? Charles Xavier, the human he's kept locked in his bedroom ever since his right-hand woman, Mystique, came to him pleading for mercy for her stepbrother, who accepted her mutant form and protected her as a child. The human he started fucking after Mystique was killed in battle, despite the guilt he feels at contaminating even this last promise to the woman who was integral to his life's work and happiness.

Boden’s Mate – kaydeefalls

Summary: "Shaw has information that we need, and we need him alive to extract it," Moira says, and there it is: the job is on the table. Extraction.

XMFC/Inception fusion AU. Erik is an extractor, Alex is his point man. They're assembling a team to go after the most dangerous mind in dreamsharing: Sebastian Shaw. But unless Alex and the team can keep him in check, Erik's desire for vengeance might just rip the whole job apart around them -- and then there's the shade that haunts his dreams...

Ritual Self-Torture – TurtleTotem

Summary: Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles.

He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love.

The Winter of Banked Fires – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles Xavier has returned from the dead -- but is lost within his own mind. Rogue has cast aside her own power and doesn't know where she fits in the world any longer. The production of synthetic Cure means mutantkind itself is newly at risk. And Magneto, turned human against his will, is in despair until the day he feels a familiar consciousness tugging at his own

Us – Pangea

Summary: “Charles,” Erik says, and if his voice hits a pleading note then who can really blame him, “Charles, it’s me.”

It takes several longer moments before Charles musters up the strength to answer, breath stuttering horribly as he tries to breathe. He’s shaking, entire body trembling.

“Erik,” Charles says, his voice cracking, “Erik, I want to die.”

Enigma – Yahtzee

Summary: Erik dies, or finds a reversey-time mutant, or a magical time travelling device, and wakes up in the past. This time, though, it's before he ever met Charles - in fact, it's before his mother died.

He can save his mother that one time (thanks to his mastery over powers carrying back), but what does Erik do after that? Does he stick around, or escape and run to find Charles again (and hope everything doesn't go wrong)?

By Faint Indirections – kianspo

Summary: Erik is in his ~50s, and lonely and bitter. He survived the Holocaust and was only ~14 when the war ended; and even ~40 years later, living in a country that helped to end WW2 and the Third Reich, homosexuality is still a taboo topic. Then one day, he stumbles over Charles, who is young(early 20s) and bright and smart and cheeky and full of energy and beautiful. And moving in the same street where Erik lives.

Lonesome on the Shelf – ikeracity

Summary: After three years of marriage, Charles has to admit that his relationship with Erik has significantly cooled off. These days, they're barely ever home at the same time and it seems like every conversation they have turns into an argument. Charles misses the way they used to be, misses the spontaneous dinner parties and the surprise morning sex and the wake up calls in the early mornings to catch the sunrise. But it's going to take two of them to fix this marriage, and some days, it seems as if all Erik wants is to be rid of him.

A fic about rekindling marriage.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary:(Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

The Attempt – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles knows everything about Erik, knows how obsessive and self-destructive he is, how Erik would do anything, give anything, in his quest for vengeance against Shaw. But he also knows that Erik loves him in ways that aren't exactly platonic.

I'd like to see a completely straight!Charles, out of pure love and care of Erik, initiate a romantic relationship with him. It can be because he wishes to give Erik something positive in his life or because he thinks it might help change Erik's mind about Shaw, the reason is up to author. Also, while Charles finds intimacy with Erik strange and awkward, he does enjoy the new, non-romantic layers that have developed in their relationship.

Apple Seeds – pprfaith

Summary: Charles, Erik, apple seeds and Shakespearean love affairs.

Ashes, Ashes – winterhill

Summary: Post-apocalyptic AU — When the bombs fall, and mutually assured destruction occurs, it turns out that Shaw was right and radiation does enhance mutant powers. Snapshots of the XMFC main ensemble in the time after the bombs: Erik decides to stay, Moira thinks she might be the only human left, Raven is having trouble sleeping, and Charles is losing his mind.

Warnings: nuclear holocaust: death (death in general, not a specific character), cancer, burns, medical procedure, mutant powers gone awry

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Tequila on a spaceship – faerie_ground

Summary: In 2014, Charles Xavier gets brutally murdered and Erik Lehnsherr spends the rest of his life mourning his death.

In 3014, Captain Lehnsherr and CMO Dr Xavier are colleagues, best friends and maybe a little more besides that aboard the Magneto I.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary: Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

Simple and Uncomplicated – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik and Charles had been fuck buddies for some, but when Charles is in an accident he figured their relationship would be over. Erik's visit to his bedside in the hospital changes his assumptions even as he has trouble believing Erik is sincere.

Lazarus – Clocks 

Summary: Erik is 19 when he says ‘I love you’ for the first time.

It would take five long years before Charles says it back.

Broken Eternity – CractasticDispatches

Sumnmary: It starts with being alone. It shouldn’t, perhaps, but it does because, of course, alone is what no one ever wishes to be.

Shout it Out Loud – dreamlittleyo

Summary: (Movie-Concurrent AU.) When Charles forges a telepathic link between himself and Erik, the two men find themselves bound together by more than just destiny. With the world on the brink of war, Charles and Erik struggle to cope with a psychic connection that may well be permanent.

Call Me By His Name – sinuous_curve

Summary: Charles wakes from the absence of noise.

There is an empty space in his room, beside his bed. Not quiet as in an abandoned room, but utterly, featurelessly blank. Like a box made of unblemished, impenetrable metal and Charles knows before he opens his eyes.

The Longest Word – septicwheelbarrow

Summary: "I'm Charles Xavier," he says, smiling from ear to ear. Then he gestures to his wheelchair. "Terminal spinal osteoblastoma, reaper due to collect in a year."

After some time, the man gestures at himself with a sardonic smile. "Same, one year. Lung." And then, reluctant, as if trying to keep his name to himself, "Erik."

I reject your reality and substitute my own. Doesn't really work that way, both ways.

Copy – chantefable

Summary: Charles wakes up without his memory. His sole caretaker, Erik, claims to be his husband, and tells him he's recovering from a car accident on their honeymoon.

Slowly falling for Erik again, Charles begins to regain his memories. He starts to notice strange things about his body, Erik, and their secluded mansion.

Myosotis – SomeCoolName

Summary: When Charles got back from Cuba, he lost the two things which made him stand: his legs and the love of his life, Erik Lehnsherr. Charles can get used to the wheelchair but he won't ever be able to get pass the loss of Erik.

"I wish I never met him" is something Charles says one night, maybe a bit drunk, absolutely wrecked for sure. It's a bit silly but Charles figures out his only solution is to use his own powers to erase Erik from his mind, progressively.

Except one day Erik comes back to the Xavier mansion to win him back. And even if Charles doesn't want to stop forgetting about him, Erik will do anything he can to convince him otherwise.

Das Haus am See – sareyen

Summary: The Lake House AU:

Erik is an estate planning lawyer who takes some time off to get away from the big city after his marriage fell apart. He lives in a picturesque lake house by Chautauqua Lake for almost two years, before moving back to New York City. This is in 2019.

Charles is a famous but very private author stuck in a creative rut, and moves to his lakeside estate for a short while to try and find a reason to write again. This is in 2017.

By magic or fate, Charles and Erik discover that the letter box at the lake house has the ability to send letters through time, between Charles in 2017 and Erik in 2019. Through letters that transcend the barriers of time, Charles and Erik fall in love. Charles vows to find Erik two years in his future, and Erik promises to wait for him. Two years - just two, meagre years.

But, fate is fickle, and time waits for no one.

Appropriate Boundaries – Yahtzee 

Summary: Charles has been having serious problems with back cramps in the year and a half since he's been in a wheelchair. His doctor prescribes massage therapy. But when Charles meets his masseur, Erik, in some ways they begin to heal each other. So how do you cross the boundaries between professional touch -- and the personal?

Unbound – Cesare, helens78

Summary: Thousands of miles apart, Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier form a soulbond. But when that bond is severed five years later, they have to spend the next ten years trying to rebuild their lives alone.

Do You Love Me – cgf_kat

Summary: Charles and Erik have been married for 25 years, thrown together by a mandatory post-apocalyptic pairing system attempting to increase and strengthen the population. They have seven children. They have never spoken of love, but change is on the horizon.

A Quiet Riot – cloudstroke (aQuired)

Summary: Erik can't stand the fact that his father has brought home a boy less than half his age.

But mostly because he's madly in love with Charles Xavier himself.

[secretsniper3]

Part 7: High Tech Tortures

I wake on my side, sore and extremy horny, desperate to cum as the 7 eggs in my pussy continue tohum without end, juice flowing out of my pussy freely, passing around the shield blocking the eggs from getting out, kept maddeningly on the very edge of orgasm with no way down. How much I wish these eggs would let me back down from the edge or stop completly, but with my urethra plug holding the shield theres no way to remove it and my hands are useless and I only serve to push the shield further on my skin and coating my latex paws in layers of precum. Moaning and a hum coming from the bed my sister slave is clearly under similar circumstances, though she can cum unlike me. Laying next to my Master she is likely bound till shes let out, hearing movement my Master gets out of bed nude, his cock swinging unrestrained and unrestricted as he walks to the bathroom to go through his morning routine I can only watch from my small cage at the foor of his bed.

-----------------------------------------------

I wake in the familiar darkness and smell of my latex hood, my mouth plugged tight with my legs spread to the corners of the bed, my clit is humming softly, Im on the edge of a powerful orgasm needing only a touch to tip me into that pool as I feel my Master return to his bed and I recieve my orgasm as he slips his cock inside my soaking pussy, orgasming instantly I try and say “Sorry Master” but can only manage a pathetic mewl as my body shakes as my Master fucks me with his morning wood, my own comfort of no concern to him he thrusts away inside and dumps his morning load inside my waiting pussy. Feeling it stiring around inside me as he continues my pounding till a second load enters me, withdrawing and sealing my pussy closed he moves off and gets dressed. Feeling my leash reattach to my collar Im unbound from the bed and moved out the room and back downstairs, led around in the dark till my mouth finds a dildo and my tongue seizes it and I begin pumping and sucking away, recieving my morning meal from the giving cock as another cock pushes in my ass as my master uses me as he sees fit, thrusting me into the dildo with every push till I feel a pump push my masters tasty cum up my ass, flowing deep inside me. Having had my fill I remove the dildo from my mouth and take a step back, “Im done Master” my leash is pulled as I teeter on my toes locked in my ballet heels.

Pulled to the ground my collar is locked to a chain on the floor holding my neck a mere foot off the ground, my arms still bound behind my back Im forced to lay flat on my bountiful latex coated breasts, my covered nipples feel the cold against the latex I shiver at the sudden hardening of my nipples as my Master replaces my gag and turns, I hear footsteps walking away, leaving my bare ass and pussy on full view as my legs open slowly, feeling my Masters cum start to run out my ass and pussy, a few drops landing on the floor as I imagine my Master pumping more hot cum inside me, my imagination distracting me from the slow stepping behind me, its when I notice the muffled buzzing that my imagination comes back to reality and I wave my hips teasingly, trying to get my intention across as I feel a welcome hand on my back. “Eat” I hear as a tongue pushes into my tight ass and probes around, sucking on my petite hole I feel the cum flowing past my sister slaves prying tongue and into the mouth beyond, feeling another orgasm cresting the cliff I moan out in ecstasy as my pussy pulses “Dont cum” I hear, my Masters words ring and echo through my mind as my brain focuses on holding back the release instantly though with difficulty as the mouth continues to empty my ass.

Collecting the cum from my ass the tongue moves lower and I moan again as she enters my drooling pussy “Ahhh fuck!” I moan, hearing a laugh from my Master who seems to know my orgasm will come, wether I resist or not. Probing deeper and deeper inside me while the mouth sucks my clit and slurps the cum out, my mouth is too busy voicing my difficulty “Ohh fuck no! No no nonono! It-its too muhhhhHHHH” My voice breaking at the end as my pussy cums harder than I wanted as my cum sprays into the waiting mouth as the tongue redoubles and speeds up its thrusting, intent on making me dissobey again I do my best to hold back but having my willpower shattered too hard from that last orgasm, I can only manage “AHHHH OHGODNOO-ooooohh my gooOOODNOOO PLEASE!!” I scream, my arms jerking in my armbinder as I shift on my breasts, no way to stop the orgasms I have no permission to have! “Thats 2 orgasms, did you get permission to have those Slave?” My Master asks, “Im so sorry sir, I couldnt help it” I gasp out while the mouth sucks the remaining cum from my pussy and releases my still pulsing lips, “Thank you Master” I hear as the woman is led away and the sound of sucking fills the room.

Unlocking my chain from the floor Im put back on my toes and led to a chair where my master sits and bends me forward at the hips, Masters cock waits and I comply and thrust my head down and take him deep in my mouth, recieving my bonus meal Im stood up straight, “You wait here and keep sucking-” clearly talking to my sister slave, “I'll get this greedy slut ready for her punishment.” Making me shudder knowing Im getting punished for something I couldnt stop in my wildest dreams, Im led forward and taken to the dungeon in the basement, my legs forced open as I beg pathetically “She made me cum Master” being my favourite line to use. Special toys are inserted into my pussy and ass, 1 placed against my clit as a chastity belt lined with thick padded latex to seal completely, no way to get anything under my belt, not a finger or a feather, only my juices are able to slowly squeeze out from the shield. “These are very expensive, very special toys inside you now, dont want the deniers falling out and breaking now do we?” my Master asks with a laugh. What did my Master mean by “Deniers”? Im about to find out as he switches them all on, my head jerks as my lower body violently shakes as my ass and pussy quake with sensations and my poor clit becoming best friends with its stimulator. “If you manage to cum from those then its deserved, but good luck with that, Slut! Your punishment is keeping those in you for the day!” My Master says as I reach the edge of a massive orgasm and just as I crest the edge they all slow down, denying me the orgasm and holding me on the edge “Oh god im going to cum!” I moan as I try to cum, as the toys stop then start over again my orgasm rolls away then they vibrate continuously till Im once again on the edge, only to cut in and out in a painful denial. “It detects your heartbeat and stops just as your about to cum. Enjoy” My Master says as I scream aloud!

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Still sucking, not sure when Master will return I dont want to be caught with the dildo out of my mouth, a light tug on my leash informs me to release the toy as I look up to my Master, I barely heard a scream earlier and my sister slave is still in the dungeon. My Master leads me slowly down to the dungeon, the second the door opens I hear loud buzzing and gasping and moans from the tormented slave, my eyes widen as I see her, still with arms sealed behind her, eyeless latex hood over her face with a tight corset and ballet boots locked to her body, but its what was new that caught my eyes, a shiny chastity belt that sits very tightly against her sex. Another tug on the leash I follow my Master to a chair and as he sits he reveals his hard cock, and I hop up to take it in my mouth as clearly commanded, my eyes look over to my sister slave as she cries and screams while I suck on my Masters hard cock till a hand meets the back of my head and holds my head low. Swallowing his cum I continue to suck away at the cock in my mouth. Moans and screams fill my ears as Masters cock pushes in and your of my mouth while my eyes look to a thrashing woman, “Shes enjoying a new toy i accuired this morning in the mail, designed to deny its user every orgasm, it wont stop vibrating till i turn it off.” Master explains while holding a remote in his other hand and placing it on a nearby shelf, far out of my paws reach.

Pushing me back off his hard cock Im told to sit, and I watch the display infront of me, “She will get to cum again, unlike you though” my Master says as he looks down on my bitchsuit covered body as my eyes start to tear up as my pussy continues to hum pathetically, having been turned down to emit a arousing presence. Seemingly knowing my arousal could use a pick-me-up my own inserts max out as I jump up and I spin to look at my Master, my sex dripping with need concealed by the latex suit while my sister slave is experiencing, however limited, a taste of my desires, Im told to sit once again and I shakily drop onto my covered pussy and ass as my own fluids flow onto the floor with a rekindled heat behind it as I look to the woman thrashing in her bonds knowing her hell is a temporary one while my hell will continue long after today.

My eyes look to the clock on the wall and time seems to take its course, an hour passes and the moaning has been nonstop from both of us as the pool between the womans bound wide legs growing steadily,with my own small puddle beneath my own thighs, my Master saying “You must be thirsty by now Slave, go have a drink” pointing to the pool of juices before me, I slowly walk over and drop my head in the fluid and drink deep, my red hair falling into the pool I slurp up more and more of my sister slaves pussy juices, thinking it would be more tasty coming from its source directly. Having my fill I back up to my Master and once again take his cock in my mouth and begin sucking away, the nearby drain collecting what pussy juices I didnt slurp up, my face covered with her own fluids as the cock pushes in my mouth as another 2 hours pass. Standing up my Master walks to the tormented woman as she moans and begs for forgivness incoherently as my Master reaches above her and grabs a dildo on a tube and puts it to her mouth, pushing it past her lips and teeth he locks straps around her head and pushes a button, the transparent tube fills with a white liquid and the slaves head shakes from side to side till her breasts are slapped hard “Drink up Slave!” My Master barks out loud. Complying instantly the slave gulps down many mouthfulls till shes clearly full and the button is pressed and the fluids flow stops, drinking up the rest the dildo is removes from her mouth and she spurts out some white fluid which lands on her large latex covered breasts.

Bringing the dildo over to me Im forced to suck on the thick toy as its locked on my face, pressing the button Im helpless to avoid the fluid as I watch as it rushes down the tube and bursts into my mouth, its horrible! Tastes worse than the cum flavored fluid from upstaris Im forced to swallow multiple loads worth and the button is pressed and I finish up and the toy is unlocked and removed. Placing back up near the roof it drips more white liquid onto the floor in slow drips, I watch on as my pussy burns with more need and I gasp out as the vibrators stimulation seem to double as I was obviously drugged with something, still unable to cum I grind my metal plate on the ground in a useless bid to achieve what I know I cant have. Moaning as I push down my motions matching the woman bound before me as we both hump forward, both pussies locked behind metal plates as the wearers thrust and grind best they can.

Watching this, my Master laughs and takes me back upstairs, leaving my sister slave bound and struggling desperatly as Im led away, entering the loungeroom I sit on a latex cushion placed infront of a metal device, locking my collar to the floor Im forced on my back, presenting my horny plate covered pussy for inspection, the device it placed over my head, covering my entire head and a dildo pushing into my mouth which is locked in place, the device now secure to my head my darkness is lit up with a screen everywhere I look. Im going to watch whatever my master wants me to watch, my eyes are illuminated with scenes of women in restrictive bondage and cumming constantly, cutting from scene to scene. My ears flood with the sounds of orgasms, cocks and sex. Unable to look away or block it out, even closing my eyes does nothing as I can see almost clear images on my eyelids as the dildo pulses in my mouth and my tongue coddles it lovingly as I feel my urethral tube deflate as my master takes care of my bodies needs, and I feel my eggs removed from my shuddering pussy, as its replaced with a throbbing hard cock as hands grab my breasts as my Master thrusts inside me, dumping 2 loads inside me, clearly going to require my sister to fish the cum out as I did for her this morning, at least I cant cum like she could. My Master leaves me to my porn to tend to the cum hungry slave below.

-----------------------------------------------

I cant cum, the toys wont let me! My hips thrusting against the belt with no release in sight I scream and moan between my blind begging to anyone there who could hear me! My breast being seized by a strong hand I cry out with desperation as I beg once again “Please make it stop Master!” being answered with a hand slapping my face “How would this be a punishment if you get out when you want out?” My Master says calmly as he unlocks my legs as I stand up straight as Im led back out of the dungeon, my pussy, ass and clit still alight with the vibrators. Led blindly through the house I hear moans over the humming between my thighs as Im forced to my knees and my face pushed into a pussy, its hers! Sucking deeply as my tongue shoots inside I taste cum packed deep and I begin fishing it out, it doesnt take long for me to get it all out and Im pulled off my dinner as Im taken over and pushed onto a seat, blind and unaware my Master decides to watch a normal movie while Im forced to sit, on the edge of a intense orgasm that I wont have till later hopefully as my tongue slips out of my open mouth while my mind goes numb with pure need.

Finishing his movie my Master jerks my mind back to reality with a cock slipping into my open mouth, the movie must be over, how long has it been? for me its been dark for 2 days straight so my grasp on the passage of time is completly useless, knowing when its night only when Im put to bed, I recieve a delicious load in my mouth from my Master, which I swallow instantly and are brought to my feet and led around the house aimlessly, turning around sharply multiple times threatening to topple my delicate balance as I teeter on my sore toes trapped in my ballet boots. I begin walking in a long straight line, puzzled I realize Im on a treadmill once again, as I writhe in my denial haze Im forced to walk endlessly as my Master clearly leaves me to my torment, my legs burn for relief that Im not going to get. My moans begin anew with that realization.

-----------------------------------------------

My mind is flooding with porn, the images of orgasms making my denial that much harder to deal with. The screen turns black and the dildo my tongue was coddeling is removed, my eyes see light and my Masters face as the helmet is taken away, my needy pussy right beneath him and the sounds of moaning and denial coming from around the corner, I know the treadmill is in that room and whats happening to her, Im pulled to my “feet” as my leash leads me to the treadmill room and I see her, bound tight in a inescapable walk of arousal and shame, “This because you made her cum twice, are you happy?” My Master says with a chuckle. Drinking in her bondage I accept that this is all on me, I could have eased up and denied her rather than taste her sweet cum… on my.. tongue. I know I did this, and I know that given the opporunity, I would do it again, her juices taste too great. If I cant cum then why should she? I decide that each time I clean her out I'll make her orgasm and sentence her to another day of denial hell. I smile at that decision and my Master laughs at my expression, “You enjoy her torture, dont you.”, I nod at his question “Yes Master, very much so..”

Leading me back up to the bedroom my cage is opened and I crawl inside and lay on my latex pillow and relax as best I can as my cage is locked shut and my Master leaves, likely to get my sister slave. Returning a few minutes later I yawn as he enters, Im exhausted, watching the blind slave led to the bed I hear flesh on latex and she falls back on the bed. Hearing a moan and a groan and a sudden cry I hear gagging as I learn my Master is taking her mouth tonight, she will remain denied tonight and I couldnt be happier. The lights turn off and I hear my Master call “Good night my Denial Whores!”

[shecrypt]

         *    @hecrypt    prompted:    ❛     isn’t    that    my    shirt    ?      ❜

    leans    against    tile    while    the    water    cascading    turns    from    lukewarm    to    frigid,    only    then    does    she    make    the    choice    to    move,    body    aching    from    a    day    that    presented    as    easy    but    quickly    turned    for    the    worst.    drying    her    frame    before    slipping    into    something    comfortable    (    a    shirt    swiped    so    long    ago    that    the    familiar    scent    had    faded    along    with    the    bold    lettering    ).        heart    stops    at    the    rumble    of    his    voice    .    .    .    clear    &    free    from    the    static    of    a    long    distance    call.    sanity    coming    into    question    for    the    briefest    of    moments,    how    could    a    secret    of    a    heart’s    desire    find    reality    with    no    prompt    yet    again    ?        unsure    what    threads    the    universe    was    attempting    to    weave    with    them    being    thrust    back    into    the    same    space    constantly.            ❛                        jesus    christ    !                         ❜        towel    dropping    from    soaked    waves    as    she    felt    as    though    she    had    startled    three    feet    in    the    air,    eyes    comically    wide.      

   ❛                        what    the    hell    are    you    doing    here    ?                        ❜        it’s    not    a    complaint,    it    can’t    be    .    .    .        (    feels    wrong    to    pretend    that    it    ever    could    ).    but    she    remained    under    the    impression    they    agreed    that    their    own    cases    should    be    taken,    after    all    rekindling    a    friendship    was    all    that    was    meant    to    happen    &    they    were    venturing    dangerously    close    to    having    to    discuss    boundaries    otherwise.        gaze    narrows    to    the    door    before    returning    to    him    .    .    .    looked    too    comfortable    in    his    seat,    as    if    he    belonged    no    where    else    but    in    her    motel    room,    a    coffee    mug    steaming    &    the    paper    earning    crease    lines    from    his    reading.    ❛                        .    .    .    did    you    pick    my    lock    ?                        ❜    engulfed    in    fabric,    it’s    hard    to    mistake    who    it    might    belong    to    but    his    question    is    left    unanswered,    purposely    ignoring    that    he    noticed    another    item    from    the    collection    of    things    she    had    no    business    keeping    after    all    these    years.        ❛                        i    don’t    remember    telling    you    which    room    i    was    in.                        ❜

[youngster-monster]

shallow grave

Archmage Kael’thas Sunstrider comes back home to a kingdom in ruin, a city in flames, and a father whose body has not yet finished cooling on the cold dry earth. The sky is choked with smoke and ashes; the streets run red with blood. His people need him — his people need better than him — and if he’s all that they have, then he’ll have to be enough.

He allows himself a day and a night to grieve, to bury his father and water his grave with his tears. Then, in the hours before dawn breaks on that second day, while his people do the same — while they bury their dead and mourn all that they’ve lost — Kael’thas lays down his grief and goes to the Sunwell.

The font of magic, like its city, like its people, was broken and tainted at the hand of the Scourge. The air echoes with a sound like the distant howling wind, but it sits heavy and still around him. Once it rang like a struck chord with the arcane energy swirling within.

This, nearly more than the bodies still lying in the streets, tells Kael’thas that they are dying.

His people need magic to thrive. They need magic to survive. Arthas has cleaved through the city to reach the heart of their power, but it’s no surprise that he wouldn’t bother to destroy them the way he has destroyed Lordaeron. What is left of them, without the Sunwell? What more does he need to do than sit and wait for them to succumb to the hunger that Kael’thas can already feel clawing at his heart?

Their survival isn’t a given anymore. It’s a question.

And what remains of the Sunwell offers an answer.

-

It is alive, Kael’thas finds, though he’s always expected that much. It is alive enough to be in pain, as its body is the sin’dorei’s body and their suffering is its suffering. Soon, it will die, and there will be nothing left to soothe the pain of their people.

But in these last moments, the Sunwell does not look for a way to ease its own anguish. It doesn’t fear its own end; for really what end can there be, for the mindless soul of a people, that shall live as long as they live and die alongside them? But it fears that they might never be avenged. They have been baptized anew in blood; now it would have them drown their enemies in it.

Magic, like its practitioners, holds grudges. It is a language of debt, spoken only through what you draw from it and what it takes from you. And there’s nothing quite so daunting as a debt never paid back in full.

Kael’thas hears this — the rage, wordless and unending, of a being that only exists as an instrument to a people’s collective will. Something in him answers.

This anger that finds its echo inside of Kael’thas is a pyre, he thinks, and it shall consume him if he lets it.

(His name means phoenix, in their language. He can no more fear the flames than the Sunwell can fear death. It is not in his nature.)

-

Prince Kael’thas Sunstrider walks into the throneroom changed, though the people gathered would be hard-pressed to say how. Perhaps it is in his eyes, the barely noticeable flicker in their golden light.

The Sunwell is gone. Long live the Sun Prince.

Still, no one speaks of it. They may not know what has transpired, but there is an instinctual recognition of the Sunwell buried deep in them. Like a compass points true to the north, they recognize this magic without knowing it.

He can feel it as well, like another heart within himself. The pulse, alien as it is, chills and comforts him in equal measure. He is both more and less than what he was before stepping into the Sunwell. Maybe he isn’t even the same person at all; something different, rather than exalted or diminished by the change.

“We will march in a week’s time,” he tells the new Ranger-General, Lor’themar Theron.

The man looks weary. The mantle is heavy on his shoulders, for all that he wears it well. Already he looks Kael’thas in the eyes when he speaks, and refuses to flinch at what he sees there.

“With what army, my lord? Over half our forces are dead; those who still live are exhausted, or stationed too far from the city to reach us before we depart.”

“You worry about the living, Lor’themar, and I will worry about the dead.”

The Sunwell was tainted by the Scourge when it sunk into Kael’thas; he can feel that as well. But Kael’thas is not a Well of magic that feeds an entire kingdom.

He is but a man, and a man may be touched by necromancy and survive in a way a Well cannot.

A man can be a necromancer.

And Kael’thas intends to be one. He intends to be the best necromancer there ever was, actually, because when has he ever settled for anything less?

-

When he walks through the streets, people hush and step aside. They see that he is grieving, and the world knows what happens when the Sunstriders grieve.

Dath’Remar founded a kingdom over this grief — for a time past, for magic that he could not bear to be parted from. Kael’thas has lost so much more; his retribution will match the scale of his grief.

He walks until the ground underneath his feet has gone black with ashes and graveyard dirt; until the stench of rot chokes him; until he can walk no more for all the bodies still not buried, and the few still walking that threaten to take notice of him. They could tear through him in seconds, alone as he is, still strong from their master’s passage.

That’s fine. He won’t be alone for long.

He knows his people by the shape of the space left empty by their absence. The awareness is unnatural — no, not unnatural. It’s foreign to him; not meant for a body like his own. Not meant to be embodied at all. It’s like an itch under his skin, a calling that he can’t quite hear.

When he reaches for it, something reaches back.

It feels rather like fire, where he would have expected ice. It stands to reason that his magic would not suffer the cold, no matter how necromantic the source. If anyone were to raise the dead with the very fire that would see them cremated, likely as not it would be him.

The flames race across the ground, seeking their brethren: the fires that used to burn in the heart of dead sin’dorei. Once found, the embers are rekindled by the deadfire; light blazes in empty eyes, and what few bodies were left behind by Arthas rise to their feet. Fire can be seen through the gaps in flesh, beneath exposed ribs, like a coal engine fueling the precious machine of their reanimated body.

The ghouls shy away from them, hissing at the light they cast. The burning dead pays them no mind, if they have any mind left to pay; they gather themselves into neat ranks to be inspected.

Kael’thas expected it to take more energy, but even the shattered remains of the Sunwell are more magic than any one man should hold; he doesn’t even feel winded. He steps up to one of the risen bodies. A civilian, he thinks; most of them must be, to have been discarded by Arthas. She looks up at him and he sees nothing in her eyes but a reflection of his own resolve.

These he will walk out of the city, to be buried with dignity. They didn’t live a life of battle, and he finds himself reluctant to give them such a restless death. Without the instinctual knowledge of weapons carrying over from their life, he’s not even sure he could make them fight.

But after— he’ll have to find motivated graverobbers, he thinks, and appeal to the noble houses of Silvermoon for authorizations to desecrate family crypts. There are many soldiers buried in the city, and he intends to make use of them all.

-

Again bodies walk through the streets of Silvermoon, though this time the prince that leads them trails embers in his wake rather than frost. It’s a testament to their grief that few bother to curse him for it; once he’s laid the bodies outside of the city, away from the ghouls that would devour them before they can be buried, his people come to him with questions on their lips but little blame.

Though it might be because they are too shocked for outrage to take root.

“How?” Lor’themar asks, helpless, as they watch the last of the dead lay down at the end of a row of their kind and go back to their eternal sleep.

“It is my duty to keep this kingdom safe,” he replies, which is not much of an answer at all. “And, this failing, to see it avenged.”

It doesn’t feel wrong, that playing with the natural order of things, though he expects Arthas had a remarkably similar train of thought before laying waste to the city of his birth. It feels as natural as all other magic Kael’thas has ever wielded. It will take care to keep it from getting out of hand; this is the kind of power that corrupts absolutely.

Unlike Arthas, this magic does not come from a place of corruption; it is born of the sin’dorei and for them, and draws its power from the seven thousand years of memories and magic that made up the Sunwell. As long as he holds on to that impulse of protection rather than destruction, he thinks he can make it.

Maybe that’s why it doesn’t feel any different than other spells. Because it fits him, that burning desire to keep what belongs to him safe, to the point that he’d bend the laws of nature to do it. Maybe it wasn’t so much a transformation as an evolution; a rebirth into something not so much changed as made better suited to its task.

“You’re different,” Rommath notes nonetheless, though it doesn’t sound accusing.

In the absence of the Convocation of Silvermoon, Kael’thas brought his demand for bodies directly to the noble houses. Most have agreed, animated by the same desire to see their enemies brought down, never to hurt them again, no matter the cost. He’s making rounds through their cemeteries now, watching every undertaker in the city and any abled person willing to take up a shovel digging up caskets and carrying shrouded bodies to the outskirts of Silvermoon where their troops are gathering. They’ll have to be quick. Work with corpses requires speed as hygiene can hardly be guaranteed.

It’s lucky that they’ve somewhat lost the tradition to cremate their dead. Many still do; and they are safe from his sacrilege now, though all sin’dorei soldiers are sworn to protect the kingdom any way they might, in life and beyond. Commoners have been coming to offer their own dead to his cause. He would not ask that of his subjects; but they understand the need for desperate measures.

What good is a full grave to the living?

“Am I really?” He asks idly, crossing names off his list. The Brightwalker crypt has been emptied already; their matriarch watches over the process herself, red-eyed but strong in the face of her youngest son’s body being brought out and covered by a veil for transport. “Besides the obvious.”

Rommath tilts his head, considering this. “Not by much, I suppose.”

“Is it a good difference?”

“That, only time will tell. But it’s a necessary one; that much I believe.”

Of course Rommath would understand. They are, in the end, creatures of pride, and pride begets duty. Good has nothing to do with it.

-

They march out of Silvermoon with a force diminished from the invasion of Quel’thalas — but still thousands strong, and twice what they might have been able to gather if not for Kael’thas’ foray into graverobbing. Grave-borrowing? He’s regent, now, would be king if he had bothered to get crowned. He has a right to conscript a few bodies, he thinks, if he promises to give them back after.

Arthas leaves a clear trail to follow, and they do. The dead can march forever, if need be; the living are not so impervious to fatigue, but desperation pushes them forward nearly as efficiently as Kael’thas’ magical control would.

He rides at the front, half a mind on the control of the army of undead at his back and the other half on the army of undead they’re marching towards.

They plan to cut Arthas’ path in Northrend; they meet the Forsaken on their way north, which is a surprise for both parties.

An arrow nearly takes Kael’thas’ head clean off his shoulders. It combusts in flight and disintegrates to ashes before reaching him, caught by a mage more attentive than he is. The next volley meets the same fate, and is quickly followed by the soldiers shifting formation — Lor’themar’s cry of protect the prince answered by hundreds of clanking armor.

Looking up, Kael’thas sees them coming from the trees like wraiths; dark figures, alight with death magic, but walking with a confidence that the shambling masses that Arthas controls simply lack. He holds his counter-attack, for now, though their approach makes his entire body shake with a kind of aimless bloodthirst. The Sunwell remembers what has hurt it; it does not forget hate nor fear easily.

When it becomes clear that the undead will neither attack nor come forward, Kael’thas rides out of the protective circle of his men, heedless of Lor’themar’s complaints. He recognizes Sylvanas soon enough. She’s a difficult woman to forget, even looking for all the world like she’s just clawed out of her grave.

“Ranger-General Windrunner,” he greets, as pleasantly as he can muster. He’s had a hard time sounding pleasant, lately. “I’m afraid I’ve given away your job.”

Her glare is a fierce thing, and her hand flexes around her bow like she’s considering striking him down anyway. “Prince Kael’thas. You’re alive.”

“No need to sound so disappointed.”

Ignoring him, she casts a look at the troops at his back. He can imagine what she sees: the strange glow of the reanimated soldiers, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the living in an uneasy, desperate show of force.

“Your soldiers are not.”

“Indeed they aren’t.”

Her sharp eyes come back to him, assessing. “Have you gone and pledged yourself to the Scourge, then, since you could not beat it?”

Her tone suggests he would not leave this place alive, if that were the case. But her assumption is only met with a flash of rage; Kael’thas’ grip over his reins goes white-knuckled, and he has to breathe shallowly through his nose before he speaks again.

“I would have Arthas dead by my hand, if I can; the Sunwell concurred, and gave me the means to achieve this goal.”

It is a remarkably reserved way to summarize events. Yet Sylvanas looks as if he had struck her, eyes widening as she takes in the force behind him once again, quickly.

“Ana’band tur, anu dor’ishura belore.” You speak, and we should hear the sun. Once a ritual phrase meant to show respect to the king or queen of Quel’thalas; now a literal truth.

He tilts his head to the side in acknowledgement. “So it is.”

As expected from the fierce ranger, she takes that information with suspicion rather than relief. She squares her shoulders and asks, walking the fine line between curiosity and suspicion, “What makes you different from the Scourge?”

“I do not claim to resurrect anyone.” At her disbelief, he gestures at the army at his back. The corpses are still in a way the Scourge, ever shifting like one giant creature of hunger, could never manage. “They are all animated, by magic and the lingering will of their soul to protect their land — puppets rather than slaves, I suppose.”

When one lives hundreds of years, their soul leaves an imprint on the body that is hardly scrubbed by death. Even when only skeletons remain of the people they once were, the bones remember what it was to love Quel’thalas — and to die for it. They are ready to do it again, if they must.

Sylvanas observes him silently. Gauging him, though what she hopes or expects to find here he doesn’t know.

“Will you join us?” he asks, once it becomes clear she will not speak again.

“We have taken Lordaeron for our own — as free, independent people. I cannot fight your war, prince.”

Death changes them all, no matter which side of it they are on. If she considers herself more undead than she is elven, then so be it.

“Then will you fight with us?”

Sylvanas Windrunner has never turned down a fight. Especially not against the Scourge.

-

Northrend is a cold, barren place, but Kael’thas’ army burns bright as if it is carrying its own sunlight, stowed away in the gaps between their bones. It keeps them warm when the howling blizzard would tear the flesh right off their skeleton.

It is only a worry for those of them who still have flesh to lose, which is a majority by not quite as much of a comfortable margin as they may like.

Kael’thas makes them march on until they can’t take another step, and then a few miles more, until the snow and the storm-grey sky have become one uninterrupted expense of darkness and they have no choice but to put up tents and fires. His men suffer through because they, too, can feel the end coming. They are running out of time. Soon fate will decide whether Arthas lives or dies, and Kael’thas intends to wrestle the decision from its hands.

The dead among their ranks light the way in the dark, they keep frostbite and hypothermia away, they keep their kin safe. That is what they were made for.

The fire set to an arrow and the fire of the hearth come from the same ember.

And through it all Kael’thas keeps a tight hold over the magic that animates them. It grows in him, like a fire kept well-stoked by rage, rekindled whenever it falters by the sight of yet another body puppeteered by Arthas.

Every forward party, every cohort of undead they cross paths with, they dispatch with immense prejudice. And once the dead have been killed again, they sort through the wreckage and pull the sin’dorei from their hard-won rest.

Fight for me, Kael’thas whispers, breathing fire into the furnace of their chest. Fight for your people, so that they may one day rest as you do.

There is nothing left of the person they once were in these restless dead — sometimes very little of their body even — but that small kernel of devotion to their kin, that banked ember that he coaxes back into a blaze.

Their numbers keep growing as they pick the Scourge apart, little by little. It makes them easier to spot; good. Let Arthas come track them down. Let him face the people he sought to destroy, and be destroyed in return.

-

Someone else takes notice of them — this glowing army of half dead men that burns through Northrend on its way to the Frozen Throne.

The demon hunter descends upon them, armed and unafraid, as if he might fight them all single-handedly if given the chance. But he keeps his hands at his side as he asks which master they serve, with a kind of foolish hope that they may not fight him.

“We serve the crown of Quel’thalas,” Lor’themar says, bright and sure in his role of Ranger-General, shielding Kael’thas behind his greater bulk. “Who are you? Who do you serve? Who do you fight?”

Illidan Stormrage serves no one, he claims, but himself; but he fights the Scourge, and the man at its head who would summon Archimonde to their world, and little matters more in an alliance than shared hatred for the Scourge nowadays.

Kael’thas steps past Lor’themar, crosses the barren space between his army and the lonely figure of the Betrayer, stands toe-to-toe with him and asks, “Will you fight with us?”

And Illidan — anger burning in face instead of eyes, a grief too large for even he to carry — a man who has only ever had himself to fight for, and to fight with—

This man looks back at Kael’thas’ smaller form, at the burning army of the dead that follows him, at the suffering of a people hounding his steps. He looks at the dark resolve in his golden eyes and the stubborn set of his shoulders as he prepares to fight — he’s always prepared to fight — and sees himself, younger and fairer but just as hungry. Just as desperate.

Victory or death, he whispers, quiet around a mouthful of teeth and blood, taking Kael’thas’ hand.

Sometimes both, Kael’thas replies, only half in jest, and shakes it.

-

These are three armies alike in desperation, taken to the limit of their force, unified in singular hatred of the force marching to the Frozen Throne.

It’s their edge, in a cruel way. No one could expect them to reach Arthas in time to cut him off; no one but themselves, pushing themselves to cross the continent in half the time it ought to take, the dead carrying the living when their mortal bodies fail.

They’re sharp, the three of them, all too clever for their own good, each ruthless in their own way. Each foolish in the same way. Sylvanas would have their men die to reach the battle one day sooner; Illidan would die himself for a chance at slowing Arthas down; Kael’thas would burn this continent to the ground and fall with it, if it meant ridding the world of its curse for good.

They balance each other out, somewhat, or rather keep each other contained by virtue of their sharp edges, like brawlers stuck in a fighting ring made up of the drawn blades of the audience. Stray too far from the plan, and you bleed. It’s as simple as that.

As a long-term alliance, calling it flimsy would be an abject overestimation. But here, in Northrend, with their time quickly running out, it’s as solid as steel to Kael’thas.

“You are fascinating,” Illidan says, watching the way golden light plays across Kael’thas’ skin as he weaves the spell over his troops stronger, makes sure they keep moving, keep burning, and never run out of fuel. The Sunwell is not an endless source; but it will hold until the end. That much he knows.

“I don’t think I am,” he replies easily, though that’s a lie. He knows himself to be one of a kind; but he’s been raised properly, and it’s impolite to brag.

Illidan doesn’t buy it for one second. “You are,” he insists, holding a strand of Kael’thas’ hair between two claws. It emits a faint glow, like heated metal, that might go unnoticed if not for the color it casts over Illidan’s darker skin. Like holding sunset in his palm. “All the power of a well of magic, held within one man— It’s not so much a surprise you can raise the dead, when one thinks about all the other things you might do with such magic at your disposal.”

Slowly, so Illidan might clue in before he makes a remark of it, Kael’thas lifts his eyes up and quirks up an inquisitive eyebrow at the piece of his hair that the other man is currently manipulating. He flushes, dark against his nightshade skin, and drops it as if it burned.

Pity; Kael’thas did not mind the touch, only found it amusing that Illidan would give it so freely. But the man might not have noticed himself doing it. Out of habit, perhaps, of being more free with his affection among other demon hunters; or because he, like many of the magic-infused elves, finds himself drawn to Kael’thas for reasons he could not put into words if pressed upon it.

Pushing the offending strand of hair behind his ear, he casts a glance across their assembled troops again. His men mill about, as comfortable among the Forsaken and Illidari as among their own. Only the dead stand still, puppets without a purpose yet. He longs to put them to rest. It aches to see them denied their rightful afterlife.

“This power isn’t mine,” he says eventually. “I must give it back, though I do not know — do not wish to know — how I will go around to doing it.”

It surprises him that he’s willing to say that much, to a man so nearly a stranger as Illidan. But it is true: he is running out of time in many more ways than one, and once Arthas is dead and he has brought his brethren back to their graves, he’s afraid of what will be left for him to do.

A phoenix must die to be reborn, after all.

At least he would die for his people; there is honor in that. What would happen if he were to die here, on this frozen hellscape, bears not thinking about.

He will not, cannot, fail.

-

In the final battle — their last chance before Arthas ascends to the Frozen Throne and crowns himself Lich King — Kael’thas thinks he may die.

His blood is hot on his skin, the stench of the undead pervasive in the air, and though every one of his men that fall can still fight he’s not sure the same can be said for him. He’s nearing his limits; he’s not sure he’ll notice he has crossed it until it’s too late.

Kael’thas wants to scream as he struggles to wrestle the control of sin’dorei from Arthas’ grasp, to cut the strings that tie their spirits to this world and burn the Lich King’s mark from them until only the piece of sun inside of them remains. Give me back my people. Let my kin come home. Let me bury them properly, and never disturb their rest again.

The wind whips his hair around his face as the battle rages, and each arc from his sword draws blood, too thick with decay and frost to splatter over him. All the blood on his skin is his alone; or his kin’s, but that is very nearly the same thing.

But he’ll make it through; he has to. For his people, for his father, for all the bodies held together by magic and prayer fighting around him.

When he reaches Arthas, the world falls to a standstill.

He’d like to gloat; he’d like to rage. But words fail him. Felo’melorn in his hands, the ghost of the sin’dorei at his back, it does not matter. Actions speak louder than words.

-

Whatever his sword says for him, Arthas gives his answer in blood.

[star-maiden]

Weekly Tarot Forecast  10/26/20 - 10/30/20

Hello and welcome! This is a general outlook tarot reading for the collective, by zodiac sign. This week, I have channeled in some guidance from Spirit regarding what you need to know in the coming week in order to find the most success and happiness. If you happened upon this reading, then there is a message here that is meant for you! As with all of my readings for the collective, these messages are meant for a wide range of people, life paths and situations. It is general outlook advice. As such, you may find that not everything resonates with you completely, and that is ok. Please take only what resonates and leave the rest. You will also want to check your sun, moon and rising signs for the message or messages that are meant for you. I sincerely hope that these messages will serve your highest and greatest good, and assist you in making wise, informed decisions. Best wishes and many blessings!

♈ - Aries: Two of Wands - This coming week, Aries, you are entering a planning phase. There is a situation coming, or that has already been set into motion, that requires your careful consideration. This card brings you the message that you need some time to think in order to move forward with your plans, or to bring something into being. This is likely going to be a highly creative process for you, and your thoughts and ideas should be flowing well. As the moon is currently in her waxing phase, it is a good time to work on bringing your goals to fruition. There is an abundance of free moving, creative energy around you at this time.

♉ - Taurus: Page of Wands - This week, you are being called to rekindle your curiosity and perhaps discover a sense of adventure. The page of wands asks us to embody the archetype of the Free Spirit, and go with the flow. In this way, we will discover new opportunities, and be able to find our joy and happiness again. This message is especially about rediscovering your joy if you have recently been going through some tough times. You are being called back to yourself, and your creative potential. Spirit wants you to know that it’s time to move forward again. At the same time, the card carries a precautionary note. When working within your creativity and going with the flow, take care not to lose all sense of foundation and stability. You’ll need to keep your feet firmly planted on the ground, or all of your inspirations will sputter out like a dying candle flame.

♊ - Gemini: 10 of Pentacles - This week you are reminded to stay close to home. Some attention and care is needed in areas of your personal home life and familial or close relationships. If things have seemed to be rushing by lately, with no chance to rest or slow down, then this card is asking you to take a pause. Things should be pretty stable right now. You have done and accomplished much. It’s time to slow down and relax in the comforts that you have secured for yourself. Someone from your family, or a close friend is missing you.

♋ - Cancer: Ace of Swords - The most important thing you will find yourself needing this week is clarity. There is a situation on the horizon that will require your absolute, honest truth and attention to details. Honor your truth in all situations, and be sure to recognize the truth in others. When we allow our judgement to become clouded by fear, projections or strong preconceived notions, we miss opportunities to understand and build relationships. Sometimes, the truth is not very pleasant to here, but it is only by standing in the truth that true healing and growth can occur.

♌ - Leo: The High Priestess - This week, you are being called to explore the depth of your spirit. Go deep, connect with something that you hold sacred. This may be your higher self, divine source energy, love or even taking a moment to pause and check in with how you have been feeling lately. At this time, there is some higher wisdom that has been trying to catch your attention. It wishes to make itself known to you at this time. This week, you may find contemplative and restorative practices helpful. Mediation, breathing exercises, taking a walk and self care are all great ways to connect. Be sure to make some time for yourself this week, and listen to any insights or reflections that you receive.

♍ - Virgo: 2 of Pentacles - You have been trying to maintain a balancing act for so long now, that it is beginning to feel like your natural state of being. There is too much energy around you, too many things to focus on and your attention has been divided. In such a state, it is difficult to do anything well and a strong focus and purpose cannot be maintained. If you feel as though you have needed to do a million things at once, or that you have been unable to make up your mind, it’s time to take a step back. Balance between action and inaction is needed at this time. You are strong and capable of maintaining the work for a while yet, but it is wise to take a step back and evaluate your current situation before you burn yourself out.

♎ - Libra: The Lovers - Libra, this card heralds in a sacred connection of some sort. The most popular thing that comes to mind when this card appears in a reading is a romantic connection. For some of you, this will be true. There is the potential for a strong romantic partnership on the horizon. However, in essence The Lovers card speaks of the blending or merging of two opposite ideas or forces. This could mean that you will find a way to integrate two sides of yourself into something harmonious and supportive. The relationship of give and take is well balanced, and greatly serves your highest good at this time. If you are not currently looking for a romantic connection, consider this week which areas of your life could be better integrated. How do they relate to each other? How can you create flow?

♏ - Scorpio: Death - This week, there is a prominent theme of change. Something in your life is ready to be let go, transformed and used to bring about a new direction in your life. You will recognize what needs to change in anything that feels stagnant, decayed or no longer useful. This week, Spirit is saying to you that it’s time to let it go. Right now, you still have some control over the situation, but this won’t be the case for long. This week, take some time to identify anything in your life that could be shifted to better serve your health and happiness. This does not have to be anything negative. Consider the changes that happen in the natural world at the turning of the season. Leaves change colors, fall and decay. Summer crops wither away to make room for new growth. This is not a terrible thing! In fact, if we think of the natural world as a metaphor for life, we can see how some things need to decay and be let go in order to make room for new life and growth. Without the stages of decay and rest, the soil would become depleted of nutrients, and nothing would grow. What do you need to let go of, Scorpio?

♐ - Sagittarius: The Magician - This week you are being reminded to stay in your power. There is a situation in your life or that will be coming in soon in which you will need to remember your autonomy and agency. In this case, it is very true that you create your reality with your words and actions. If something is not to you liking, change it. Maintaining control and moving toward the outcome you desire is sometimes as simple as believing you have the power to do so. Don’t let anyone take these decisions from you.

♑ - Capricorn: Queen of Cups - This week, you may find yourself needing to connect to a situation from a place of empathy in order to understand. You are usually quite logical and precise, but there is something coming into your life in which a more emotional-based perspective will serve you better. Consider your own emotions, as well as the emotions of others. Are all parties feeling heard and respected? If not, a different approach is needed. Take care not to project your perspective onto that of others. Try to see a different side. You will gain greater awareness and clarity if you listen, rather than trying to solve or control right away.

♒ - Aquarius: Queen of Swords - This card speaks of the perfect blending of empathy, compassion and logic. You will be asked to use your discernment this week, and to not immediately trust anything you hear. It is not that others around you are dishonest, but rather that the situation at hand would better be served by careful, and logical consideration. You’ll want to be careful not to leap into any situations without first carefully examining all angles. You’ll also want to pair your sense of discernment with wise words and clear communication. Remember, we are still under the effects of the Mercury retrograde, and anything you say is more likely to be taken completely out of context and misconstrued if you do not take care to express your thoughts and ideas as clearly as possible. A good rule of thumb is to communicate only with the truth, but act from a place of empathy and compassion. This week, you may also find yourself needing to set some boundaries. It may be uncomfortable, but in the end this is what is needed to move forward.

♓ - Pisces: The Knight of Swords - There is a situation in your life right now in which, thus far, you have only engaged with in an intellectual way. You have perhaps considered, imagined, debated and reasoned, but now is the time to act. Consider carefully what the situation is, and what it would entail for you if you move forward. If you feel certain that this is the direction you want to take, then act on it. Nothing will happen by itself. If you don’t take action, the opportunity will slip away. Sometimes action can be difficult for you, Pisces, because you are happiest when exploring the realm of imagination and dreams. However, in order to make our dreams into a reality, we must pursue them on the physical plane of existence. We must go after what we want not only in thought, but also in body. This week, consider: What action steps are needed at this time? How can you move forward logically and with precise steps?

[secretsniper2]

Part 7: High Tech Tortures

I wake on my side, sore and extreme horny, desperate to cum as the 7 eggs in my pussy continue to hum without end, juice flowing out of my pussy freely, passing around the shield blocking the eggs from getting out, kept maddeningly on the very edge of orgasm with no way down. How much I wish these eggs would let me back down from the edge or stop completely, but with my urethra plug holding the shield there's no way to remove it and my hands are useless and I only serve to push the shield further on my skin and coating my latex paws in layers of precum. Moaning and a hum coming from the bed my sister slave is clearly under similar circumstances, though she can cum unlike me. Laying next to my Master she is likely bound till shes let out, hearing movement my Master gets out of bed nude, his cock swinging unrestrained and unrestricted as he walks to the bathroom to go through his morning routine I can only watch from my small cage at the foot of his bed.

-----------------------------------------------

I wake in the familiar darkness and smell of my latex hood, my mouth plugged tight with my legs spread to the corners of the bed, my clit is humming softly, Im on the edge of a powerful orgasm needing only a touch to tip me into that pool as I feel my Master return to his bed and I receive my orgasm as he slips his cock inside my soaking pussy, orgasming instantly I try and say “Sorry Master” but can only manage a pathetic mewl as my body shakes as my Master fucks me with his morning wood, my own comfort of no concern to him he thrusts away inside and dumps his morning load inside my waiting pussy. Feeling it stirring around inside me as he continues my pounding till a second load enters me, withdrawing and sealing my pussy closed he moves off and gets dressed. Feeling my leash reattach to my collar Im unbound from the bed and moved out the room and back downstairs, led around in the dark till my mouth finds a dildo and my tongue seizes it and I begin pumping and sucking away, receiving my morning meal from the giving cock as another cock pushes in my ass as my master uses me as he sees fit, thrusting me into the dildo with every push till I feel a pump push my masters tasty cum up my ass, flowing deep inside me. Having had my fill I remove the dildo from my mouth and take a step back, “Im done Master” my leash is pulled as I teeter on my toes locked in my ballet heels.

Pulled to the ground my collar is locked to a chain on the floor holding my neck a mere foot off the ground, my arms still bound behind my back Im forced to lay flat on my bountiful latex coated breasts, my covered nipples feel the cold against the latex I shiver at the sudden hardening of my nipples as my Master replaces my gag and turns, I hear footsteps walking away, leaving my bare ass and pussy on full view as my legs open slowly, feeling my Masters cum start to run out my ass and pussy, a few drops landing on the floor as I imagine my Master pumping more hot cum inside me, my imagination distracting me from the slow stepping behind me, its when I notice the muffled buzzing that my imagination comes back to reality and I wave my hips teasingly, trying to get my intention across as I feel a welcome hand on my back. “Eat” I hear as a tongue pushes into my tight ass and probes around, sucking on my petite hole I feel the cum flowing past my sister slaves prying tongue and into the mouth beyond, feeling another orgasm cresting the cliff I moan out in ecstasy as my pussy pulses “Dont cum” I hear, my Masters words ring and echo through my mind as my brain focuses on holding back the release instantly though with difficulty as the mouth continues to empty my ass.

Collecting the cum from my ass the tongue moves lower and I moan again as she enters my drooling pussy “Ahhh fuck!” I moan, hearing a laugh from my Master who seems to know my orgasm will come, whether I resist or not. Probing deeper and deeper inside me while the mouth sucks my clit and slurps the cum out, my mouth is too busy voicing my difficulty “Ohh fuck no! No no nonono! It-its too muhhhhHHHH” My voice breaking at the end as my pussy cums harder than I wanted as my cum sprays into the waiting mouth as the tongue redoubles and speeds up its thrusting, intent on making me disobey again I do my best to hold back but having my willpower shattered too hard from that last orgasm, I can only manage “AHHHH OHGODNOO-ooooohh my gooOOODNOOO PLEASE!!” I scream, my arms jerking in my armbinder as I shift on my breasts, no way to stop the orgasms I have no permission to have! “That's 2 orgasms, did you get permission to have those Slave?” My Master asks, “Im so sorry sir, I couldn't help it” I gasp out while the mouth sucks the remaining cum from my pussy and releases my still pulsing lips, “Thank you Master” I hear as the woman is led away and the sound of sucking fills the room.

Unlocking my chain from the floor Im put back on my toes and led to a chair where my master sits and bends me forward at the hips, Masters cock waits and I comply and thrust my head down and take him deep in my mouth, receiving my bonus meal Im stood up straight, “You wait here and keep sucking-” clearly talking to my sister slave, “I'll get this greedy slut ready for her punishment.” Making me shudder knowing Im getting punished for something I couldn't stop in my wildest dreams, Im led forward and taken to the dungeon in the basement, my legs forced open as I beg pathetically “She made me cum Master” being my favourite line to use. Special toys are inserted into my pussy and ass, 1 placed against my clit as a chastity belt lined with thick padded latex to seal completely, no way to get anything under my belt, not a finger or a feather, only my juices are able to slowly squeeze out from the shield. “These are very expensive, very special toys inside you now, dont want the deniers falling out and breaking now do we?” my Master asks with a laugh. What did my Master mean by “Deniers”? Im about to find out as he switches them all on, my head jerks as my lower body violently shakes as my ass and pussy quake with sensations and my poor clit becoming best friends with its stimulator. “If you manage to cum from those then its deserved, but good luck with that, Slut! Your punishment is keeping those in you for the day!” My Master says as I reach the edge of a massive orgasm and just as I crest the edge they all slow down, denying me the orgasm and holding me on the edge “Oh god im going to cum!” I moan as I try to cum, as the toys stop then start over again my orgasm rolls away then they vibrate continuously till Im once again on the edge, only to cut in and out in a painful denial. “It detects your heartbeat and stops just as your about to cum. Enjoy” My Master says as I scream aloud!

-----------------------------------------------

Still sucking, not sure when Master will return I dont want to be caught with the dildo out of my mouth, a light tug on my leash informs me to release the toy as I look up to my Master, I barely heard a scream earlier and my sister slave is still in the dungeon. My Master leads me slowly down to the dungeon, the second the door opens I hear loud buzzing and gasping and moans from the tormented slave, my eyes widen as I see her, still with arms sealed behind her, eyeless latex hood over her face with a tight corset and ballet boots locked to her body, but its what was new that caught my eyes, a shiny chastity belt that sits very tightly against her sex. Another tug on the leash I follow my Master to a chair and as he sits he reveals his hard cock, and I hop up to take it in my mouth as clearly commanded, my eyes look over to my sister slave as she cries and screams while I suck on my Masters hard cock till a hand meets the back of my head and holds my head low. Swallowing his cum I continue to suck away at the cock in my mouth. Moans and screams fill my ears as Masters cock pushes in and your of my mouth while my eyes look to a thrashing woman, “Shes enjoying a new toy i acquired this morning in the mail, designed to deny its user every orgasm, it wont stop vibrating till i turn it off.” Master explains while holding a remote in his other hand and placing it on a nearby shelf, far out of my paws reach.

Pushing me back off his hard cock Im told to sit, and I watch the display in front of me, “She will get to cum again, unlike you though” my Master says as he looks down on my bitchsuit covered body as my eyes start to tear up as my pussy continues to hum pathetically, having been turned down to emit a arousing presence. Seemingly knowing my arousal could use a pick-me-up my own inserts max out as I jump up and I spin to look at my Master, my sex dripping with need concealed by the latex suit while my sister slave is experiencing, however limited, a taste of my desires, Im told to sit once again and I shakily drop onto my covered pussy and ass as my own fluids flow onto the floor with a rekindled heat behind it as I look to the woman thrashing in her bonds knowing her hell is a temporary one while my hell will continue long after today.

My eyes look to the clock on the wall and time seems to take its course, an hour passes and the moaning has been nonstop from both of us as the pool between the womans bound wide legs growing steadily, with my own small puddle beneath my own thighs, my Master saying “You must be thirsty by now Slave, go have a drink” pointing to the pool of juices before me, I slowly walk over and drop my head in the fluid and drink deep, my red hair falling into the pool I slurp up more and more of my sister slaves pussy juices, thinking it would be more tasty coming from its source directly. Having my fill I back up to my Master and once again take his cock in my mouth and begin sucking away, the nearby drain collecting what pussy juices I didnt slurp up, my face covered with her own fluids as the cock pushes in my mouth as another 2 hours pass. Standing up my Master walks to the tormented woman as she moans and begs for forgiveness incoherently as my Master reaches above her and grabs a dildo on a tube and puts it to her mouth, pushing it past her lips and teeth he locks straps around her head and pushes a button, the transparent tube fills with a white liquid and the slaves head shakes from side to side till her breasts are slapped hard “Drink up Slave!” My Master barks out loud. Complying instantly the slave gulps down many mouthfuls till shes clearly full and the button is pressed and the fluids flow stops, drinking up the rest the dildo is removes from her mouth and she spurts out some white fluid which lands on her large latex covered breasts.

Bringing the dildo over to me Im forced to suck on the thick toy as its locked on my face, pressing the button Im helpless to avoid the fluid as I watch as it rushes down the tube and bursts into my mouth, its horrible! Tastes worse than the cum flavoured fluid from upstairs Im forced to swallow multiple loads worth and the button is pressed and I finish up and the toy is unlocked and removed. Placing back up near the roof it drips more white liquid onto the floor in slow drips, I watch on as my pussy burns with more need and I gasp out as the vibrators stimulation seem to double as I was obviously drugged with something, still unable to cum I grind my metal plate on the ground in a useless bid to achieve what I know I cant have. Moaning as I push down my motions matching the woman bound before me as we both hump forward, both pussies locked behind metal plates as the wearers thrust and grind best they can.

Watching this, my Master laughs and takes me back upstairs, leaving my sister slave bound and struggling desperately as Im led away, entering the loungeroom I sit on a latex cushion placed in front of a metal device, locking my collar to the floor Im forced on my back, presenting my horny plate covered pussy for inspection, the device it placed over my head, covering my entire head and a dildo pushing into my mouth which is locked in place, the device now secure to my head my darkness is lit up with a screen everywhere I look. Im going to watch whatever my master wants me to watch, my eyes are illuminated with scenes of women in restrictive bondage and cumming constantly, cutting from scene to scene. My ears flood with the sounds of orgasms, cocks and sex. Unable to look away or block it out, even closing my eyes does nothing as I can see almost clear images on my eyelids as the dildo pulses in my mouth and my tongue coddles it lovingly as I feel my urethral tube deflate as my master takes care of my bodies needs, and I feel my eggs removed from my shuddering pussy, as its replaced with a throbbing hard cock as hands grab my breasts as my Master thrusts inside me, dumping 2 loads inside me, clearly going to require my sister to fish the cum out as I did for her this morning, at least I cant cum like she could. My Master leaves me to my porn to tend to the cum hungry slave below.

-----------------------------------------------

I cant cum, the toys wont let me! My hips thrusting against the belt with no release in sight I scream and moan between my blind begging to anyone there who could hear me! My breast being seized by a strong hand I cry out with desperation as I beg once again “Please make it stop Master!” being answered with a hand slapping my face “How would this be a punishment if you get out when you want out?” My Master says calmly as he unlocks my legs as I stand up straight as Im led back out of the dungeon, my pussy, ass and clit still alight with the vibrators. Led blindly through the house I hear moans over the humming between my thighs as Im forced to my knees and my face pushed into a pussy, its hers! Sucking deeply as my tongue shoots inside I taste cum packed deep and I begin fishing it out, it doesn't take long for me to get it all out and Im pulled off my dinner as Im taken over and pushed onto a seat, blind and unaware my Master decides to watch a normal movie while Im forced to sit, on the edge of a intense orgasm that I wont have till later hopefully as my tongue slips out of my open mouth while my mind goes numb with pure need.

Finishing his movie my Master jerks my mind back to reality with a cock slipping into my open mouth, the movie must be over, how long has it been? for me its been dark for 2 days straight so my grasp on the passage of time is completely useless, knowing when its night only when Im put to bed, I receive a delicious load in my mouth from my Master, which I swallow instantly and are brought to my feet and led around the house aimlessly, turning around sharply multiple times threatening to topple my delicate balance as I teeter on my sore toes trapped in my ballet boots. I begin walking in a long straight line, puzzled I realize Im on a treadmill once again, as I writhe in my denial haze Im forced to walk endlessly as my Master clearly leaves me to my torment, my legs burn for relief that Im not going to get. My moans begin anew with that realization.

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My mind is flooding with porn, the images of orgasms making my denial that much harder to deal with. The screen turns black and the dildo my tongue was coddling is removed, my eyes see light and my Masters face as the helmet is taken away, my needy pussy right beneath him and the sounds of moaning and denial coming from around the corner, I know the treadmill is in that room and whats happening to her, Im pulled to my “feet” as my leash leads me to the treadmill room and I see her, bound tight in a inescapable walk of arousal and shame, “This because you made her cum twice, are you happy?” My Master says with a chuckle. Drinking in her bondage I accept that this is all on me, I could have eased up and denied her rather than taste her sweet cum… on my.. tongue. I know I did this, and I know that given the opportunity, I would do it again, her juices taste too great. If I cant cum then why should she? I decide that each time I clean her out I'll make her orgasm and sentence her to another day of denial hell. I smile at that decision and my Master laughs at my expression, “You enjoy her torture, dont you.”, I nod at his question “Yes Master, very much so..”

Leading me back up to the bedroom my cage is opened and I crawl inside and lay on my latex pillow and relax as best I can as my cage is locked shut and my Master leaves, likely to get my sister slave. Returning a few minutes later I yawn as he enters, Im exhausted, watching the blind slave led to the bed I hear flesh on latex and she falls back on the bed. Hearing a moan and a groan and a sudden cry I hear gagging as I learn my Master is taking her mouth tonight, she will remain denied tonight and I couldn't be happier. The lights turn off and I hear my Master call “Good night my Denial Whores!”

[pressedinthepages]

Comestion

Archaic. noun. a devouring by fire.

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Jaskier x Geralt x Reader

Word Count: 5006

Rating: E  

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24434329

Masterlist

a/n: reader request as a second part to “Brontide” - “but imagine them both singing together and then the whole inn just disappears and they are singing to Geralt but he's an idiot who has no idea so one night while Jaskier is taking her apart they hatch a plan on how to bring Geralt into their bed and well it happens out in a camp somewhere in the woods and it starts with her getting a splinter or something stupid and Jaskier sucking her finger into his mouth and then well you can see where this is going...” ... ah yes i can absolutely see where this is going ;)

Warnings: filthy smut, oral sex, penetrative sex, female reader, threesome (m/m/f)

After the events of Brontide, Jaskier and Reader expand their relationship to include one emotionally constipated Witcher.

You’re not sure how exactly, but you managed to find yourself standing atop a rickety table in the middle of the tavern, wildly swinging your empty tankard as you sang (really just yelled out of tune) and dancing along to Jaskier’s song. Your hips were swaying dangerously, your body rolling and weaving through the air as naturally as breathing. You weren’t even drunk, the tankard had been filled with water, but somehow the bard had turned you into a raging ball of fire fueled with something more than any alcohol could provide. The people in the tavern were rowdy, generous with their coin as Jaskier played. He was singing one of his newer songs, and the crowd loved it. It was about a mysterious succubus (even he admitted, it was a bit cheesy) who had drawn him in, only for her to fall into his arms and kiss him like the break of dawn. Jaskier had been working on it for months, having started the morning after your first night together. His little journal had countless pages of scribbles about you, one even being filled with ways to describe the color of your eyes. He was relentless in his quest to fold you into the pages of his music, never fully content, damn perfectionist.

        Ever the entertainer, Jaskier launched into another song, the quiet introduction a chance for you to gather your surroundings. Your eyes flitted and bounced around the room, never settling on any one thing for longer than a heartbeat. But then, a pair of eyes as golden as the sun grips you from the corner of the room, and you can’t help holding your gaze. Geralt looks as though he’s been violently slapped across the face with a fish, mouth agape and eyes wide, a slight flush settling on the crests of his cheeks. But, that only lasts a moment, his expression turning darker, hungrier. His eyes dilate and his hands grip his own cup with enough force to warp the metal. In a moment of shameless confidence, you throw a wink his way and resume your dance, perhaps being a bit more purposeful with your movements. You notice him discreetly shift, crossing his legs, seemingly unable to get comfortable. 

    Your attention shifting back to Jaskier, you noticed him watching you, absolutely having recognized your little interaction with Geralt. You briefly worried that he’d be livid, the woman he’d been pledging his entire life to for months now so blatantly flirting with his best friend, but he only took on a hungry expression of his own, fingers curling around his lute just a little bit tighter. You both shared a singular thought, we HAVE to get Geralt in our bed. Thinking quickly, Jaskier began a song that he’d written years ago. It was...filthy, very blatantly describing a threesome that the young bard had engaged in. Apparently, he had been wandering through what he thought was an empty wing of a court he’d entertained when he almost literally stumbled over a couple that was very passionately fucking in front of the fireplace. Instead of screaming and throwing shoes at him, they generously invited him to join the festivities, which he dutifully accepted. As he sang of this great occasion in his life, you spun and swung and swayed around, still atop the table, almost kicking drinks and Gwent cards around the room.

The final note resonated around the room, bouncing from candle to window to stray glass shards on the floor, your eyes met Jaskier’s and you felt time slow and swirl, your skirts brushing along the surface of the table before coming to a stop. His eyes always left you breathless, but even more so now, the clear blue filled with so much heat and desire that you were worried that you may just melt between the grains of wood before settling on the floor. The room stopped spinning, the cheers and rumbling returning to your ears, but you still found yourself lost in the love for your bard. 

...

    As the night came to a close, you bounded up to the room you three were sharing for the night, Jaskier staying behind briefly to collect his coin from the barkeep. As your hand reached the handle, the door was suddenly yanked open, Geralt on the other side. You startled, almost punching him as your adrenaline spiked. Once you realized that it was not actually a monster lying in wait to sink his teeth into your skin and devour you whole, you relaxed, gently placing a hand on his chest and pushing into the room. You noticed that he still had his boots on, as well as his swords. 

    “Are you going somewhere?” you asked, disappointed. 

“Hmmm…” Geralt rumbled, the grit of his voice going straight to your core. He let out a breath and flexed his hands at his sides, visibly straining against something. “I’m going to find a brothel.”

He swiftly turned, brushing past Jaskier on his way out. Jaskier strode into the room, noting your frustrated expression following Geralt. “What’s going on?” He toed the door shut and shrugged off his doublet, drawing your eyes to the top of his shirt where you could catch a glimpse of skin dusted with hair and his eyes glinting with unclaimed desire. 

All thoughts of Geralt flew out of the window as your earlier flame of wanting was rekindled and you dashed across the room, moaning into his mouth as you moved your hands to the buttons of his trousers.

…

    Your breath hitched, the burn of his cock inside of you crackling through the haze of your pleasure. Jaskier is insatiable, making you reach your peak twice already before he really started fucking into you. You only barely brushed the edges of reality, the drag of his cock like fire against the velvet of your cunt bringing you back to the blissful existence of being his.

    His body pressed against yours, holding you beneath him as he speared you deeply with every thrust. His head rested against your neck, and you could hear every little breathy noise that fell from his lips as he chased his pleasure. Suddenly, he slowed and pulled back to rest on his knees, pulling a shallow whine from you as he ran his hands along the valleys and mountains of your body beneath him.

    Huskily, Jaskier chuckled. “I just had a brilliant idea.”

    “Well, I sure hope it involves getting back to what we were just doing,” you huffed, not pleased with being denied another crest of pleasure. 

    He smirked down at you and slid his hands down your body to settle behind your knees, pulling them up to rest on his shoulders. He resumed his movements, slower but no less enjoyable. Your body relaxed under his touch and he moved his hands to grasp your hips. You reached down, threading your fingers together as you begin to lose yourself once more. 

    “Ah, ah, ah...not yet. Don’t you want to hear my brilliant idea?” Jaskier scolded, forcing you to abandon your quest for the moment. You could still feel his cock inside of you, his hips rolling slightly to keep your attention. 

    “Fine, fine, what is it?” you gasped, wanting him to just spit it out instead of making it a dramatic display. You loved him, but gods he picked the worst times to come up with ideas.

    Jaskier leaned down as far as he could, forcing your hips further apart as you folded with him. You moan, something low and dark with smoke. He suddenly resumes his breathtaking pace, pulling you to the edge of your high once more, your cunt clenching and dripping around him. 

        “I think...we should...extend an...invitation, of sorts...to our dear Witcher...to join us one evening…” He grates out between thrusts, his voice betraying just how close to the edge he is as well and his fingers deftly circling your clit. At his words, you finally fall, plummeting through ecstasy like a shooting star in a clear sky. All of your muscles tighten, one of your hands flying to your core to meet Jaskier’s and keep him there. As the stars began to settle back into the night and your breath returns, you hear Jaskier moan your name as he swells and throbs inside of you with his spend. 

    You both lay still for a moment before Jaskier gingerly removed himself and set your legs back on the bed. He hummed, snaking his finger to your core and swiping along your folds, collecting some of the mixture of his spend and your own slick, the sickly sweet evidence of your arousal. You rise to meet him and take his fingers in your mouth, cleaning them and reveling in the taste. Releasing them with a pop that echoes around the room, you fell back to the pillows, Jaskier settling next to you soon after. 

    He turns, pulling you to snuggle against his side and wrapping his arms around your waist. Your head resting on his chest, you shifted to look at him, the coarse hairs tickling your cheek.

    With as sweet of a smile you could muster, you whisper, “I quite like your idea.”

    Jaskier laughs, the sound shining through your skin like sunshine through the clouds. He pulls you up for a gentle kiss before you both settle back, his heartbeat lulling you to deep, dreamless sleep.

…

    Over the next few weeks, both you and Jaskier had been diligent, attempting to attract Geralt’s attentions. It’s lucky he was good looking, because gods, he was oblivious. You’d tried several different approaches, none of which really worked. You tried wearing lower cut blouses, Jaskier opening even more of his already undone shirts, but Geralt never seemed to give either of you a second glance. Jaskier had been writing a new song about a mystical being with white hair who made him “hot in the loins,” and even you had to agree with Geralt that maybe he should think of another way to phrase that. You’d even stooped so low to dancing around the fire together, swaying and falling over each other and moving just as you were the night at the tavern. As you caught his eyes again, Geralt was watching the both of you with that same intense, hungry look and you knew that you were on the right track, you just needed to keep trying.

    You’d almost lost all hope, settling on a log beside the fire a few nights later. It’d been days since you’d last ridden through a town, and you were exhausted. You relaxed, stretching your arms onto the log as the warmth from the fire embraced you. The forest was quiet, the sky pitch black above, the crackling of the fire the only thing breaking the silence. It only lasted for a moment though, as Jaskier plopped down beside you and you adjusted how you were sitting, pulling your hand from where it had been resting on the wood. Your finger just barely grazed the surface, and a sharp pain shot up through your hand.

    “Ah, fuck!” you exclaimed, startling both Geralt and Jaskier and probably some birds a few miles away. Geralt jumped up and grabbed his sword from where it was concealed behind him. However, as he noticed the faint smell of blood and figured out what had happened, he calmed, sitting back on his own log at the side of the fire.

    “Got a splinter, love?” Jaskier asked, already pulling out the small dagger he kept at his side. 

        You nodded. “Don’t worry about it, it just shocked me a bit.” You shook your head. You’ve faced countless monsters and survived several close encounters with death, and yet a splinter can cause you to yelp like a helpless puppy?

    Jaskier took your hand, holding it up so that the light from the fire danced across your fingertips. He was perfectly focused, the blade in his hand glinting as he held it at your finger. You felt the flat of the blade press on your finger as Jaskier set his thumb at the sharper end and tugged, an instant feeling of relief settling over you. 

    “There, got it!” Jaskier was grinning triumphantly, as if he had defeated a great stone giant rather than a tiny sliver of wood. He set his dagger back behind him, still holding your hand by his face. A tiny drop of blood had formed on your fingertip, and Jaskier’s smile turned into something mischievous, his eyebrow quirking. 

    He gently brought your finger to his mouth, giving it a chaste kiss before sliding his tongue along the whole length of your finger. You let out a shaky breath as he put the tip of your finger into his mouth and sucked, heat spreading through your core and slipping over your skin. You saw where he was going with this, so you took another finger and prodded at his lips, requesting entrance. Jaskier was happy to oblige, eyes fluttering shut and moaning softly as he began working your fingers as you have worked his cock countless times before. 

    As Jaskier continued his “medical aid,” you glanced over to Geralt. He was sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped in the space between.  His pupils were shot, just a tiny ring of gold alluding to the rich beauty of them. His eyes were trailing up and down your bodies, and you saw him shift, the movement of the fire betraying every move he made. His gaze moved up to yours and he let out an audible breath full of frustration and wanting. At this, you threw your head back and moaned, unable to contain the sounds pulled from your arousal.

    Suddenly, Geralt stood, and you could see from the sizable bulge in his trousers that he was quite interested in Jaskier’s healing abilities. But he quickly turned and strode to Roach, barking, “I’m going to find a brothel.”

    You rolled your eyes and Jaskier released your fingers with a wet sound, causing your walls to flutter. “Oh, no no no no no…” he stood, and you got an eyeful of just how aroused he was as well, feeling more than a bit flattered. “You wouldn’t make it to the closest town by daybreak, and you know that you wouldn’t leave us out here all alone!” Jaskier practically tripped over his own feet crossing to Geralt, but he was determined. He grabbed Geralt’s shoulder and spun him around so he was facing both you and Jaskier once more. 

    Geralt opened his mouth to argue, but you spoke first, “Besides, you could just join us tonight.” You rose, skirts swirling around your legs and kissing the tops of your bare feet as you approached the two men. Geralt looked like a fish out of water, looking back and forth between you and Jaskier, neither of you saying anything more. 

    “Well, I really do not wish to intrude…” he mumbled, eyes flitting to the ground, and you could tell that he really did wish to intrude. You gently placed a finger under his chin and pulled his gaze back to you, and you saw his chest rise as he breathed in your scent. 

    “You wouldn’t be intruding, dove, we’re inviting you.” You tried to put every bit of honesty and desire in your eyes and were not disappointed when you saw the walls Geralt has built around himself start to crack and crumble. 

    Jaskier stepped behind you, hand snaking around your waist and the hard line of his cock pressing against your ass. He rested his head on your shoulder, and you just knew that he was giving Geralt that look, his big, sad, blue eyes and just the slightest pout on his lips that no one in their right mind could ever refuse.

    “You’re sure?” Geralt whispered, voice grating like rocks tumbling through a stream. Jaskier only nodded, turning his face to place a kiss to your neck. His free hand ghosted up your back and threaded his fingers through your hair. He tugged, exposing more of your neck as he started to suckle a new mark right above your shoulder. 

    You reached out, finding Geralt’s hand. Your fingers found his and squeezed, more of a movement of love than lust. He stepped towards you, closing the distance but still staying far enough away so you could still change your mind. However, you had no intention of doing that, so you brought his hand to your breast, the both of you sighing into the touch. You held him there for a heartbeat before bringing your other hand to his cheek, rubbing your thumb over the sharp edge of his jaw before pulling him down to meet your lips. 

    He kissed you as though he were drowning and you were a breath of fresh air, desperate and needy. His one hand stayed on your breast, kneading at the soft skin just beneath the fabric. His other hand fell to your waist where Jaskier’s hand was and settled atop it, pulling a sweet groan from behind you. Your hands wound through his hair, trying to pull him even closer to you. 

    You pulled back, dizzy from the swirling fire up your spine and the lack of air. You slid out of both of the men’s arms, your chest heaving and spilling from the top of your bodice. 

    “Let me get the bedrolls set up.” You smile before turning, laying the three beds out together so they just formed one big one. You hear Jaskier whisper something in Geralt’s ear, causing him to growl, and then Jaskier gasps. You peek over your shoulder to see Jaskier swept up in Geralt’s arms, their mouths tangled in a fiery dance. You watch them for a moment, biting your lip watching the two men you love together like this.

    However, you soon become impatient, clearing your throat as you begin to undo the ties at the back of your bodice. You just barely roll your eyes, why didn’t Jaskier just go ahead and take care of these while he was back there? But the way the two men are looking at you is enough to quiet that line of thought, their faces hungry and their hands itching to touch, and your fingers struggle to loosen the ties. They both rush to your sides, Geralt now behind you with Jaskier in front. You feel Geralt’s fingers at the small of your back, the ties loosening as he moves. You tug Jaskier’s chemise from his trousers and over his head, being careful when you drop it so it doesn’t go flying into the fire. You’ve already had to replace one of them when you literally ripped it off of him, and he is a very picky man when it comes to his clothing. Geralt reaches the top of your shirt and places a gentle kiss to the skin right above it, sending a fresh wave of heat along your body. You let the shirt slide from your shoulders, the warmth from the fire calming the goosebumps along the newly exposed skin. 

    Jaskier’s hands move to the ties at the side of your skirts, undoing the simple knot and pulling them and your smallclothes together, letting them pool on the ground. Geralt’s hands dance along the hem of your chemise, his calloused fingers rough against the softness of your hips. He lifts the shirt over your head, and your nipples peak with the sudden exposure. His hands move back to you, reaching around and carefully pinching the peaks of your breasts. Your head drops back, resting against the solid plane of his chest as you moan, grinding your hips back into the hardness at your spine. 

    You lift your head back to resume your task, letting your hands run down Jaskier’s chest to the waist of his trousers. You undo the ties at the front, pausing for a moment to press your hand against his member and squeeze, granting a tumbling of nonsensical words from his mouth. You feel hands everywhere, and you’re not sure whose hands are doing what. They are running, dancing, squeezing, touching every bit of skin that they can find. You slip Jaskiers’s trousers and underclothes down together, placing a small kiss on his hipbone as you move. His cock is standing proud and flushed, a bead of precome dripping as it throbs under your gaze. 

    “I’m afraid that you are terribly overdressed, my dear.” Jaskier slides around you as you rise, his hands landing on Geralt’s waist to palm him through his trousers before deftly slipping the buttons open. You turn and nestle your lips against Geralt’s jaw, scraping your teeth along his jaw. Your hands reach up to his chest and fumble with the small buttons, pulling and tugging at the fabric worn soft with years of use. He reaches up and pulls the shirt over his head, your mouth moving lick and suck and nip over his chest. Scars adorn the skin, stark brushstrokes of pain and cruelty. You know that he doesn’t like to talk about them, so you don’t bring special attention to them as you run your hands along the muscles that tense under your fingers. 

    You feel Jaskier kneel, and you peek open an eye to look below you. Geralt is bare now, his cock aching and weeping, a thin stream of precome dripping towards the ground. Jaskier darts his tongue, catching it and bringing his mouth to Geralt’s cock, licking from base to tip. Geralt groans, low and dark and smoky, as he moves his hands. One of them threads into Jaskier’s chestnut hair, pushing it from his eyes as he takes Geralt’s cock in his mouth to the hilt. His other hand finds your cunt, warm and slick under his fingers. 

You lean into his touch, the heel of his hand providing a glimmer of relief that fades far too quickly. Geralt moans, thunder rumbling under his skin. You know just how talented Jaskier’s mouth is, so you can’t blame Geralt for losing himself for a moment. But you’re restless, soon rutting against his hand. The brush of your breasts along his arm brings Geralt back to you, his head turning and catching your lips in a bruising kiss, his teeth glancing against yours as he moves with you. His fingers shift, spreading you and slipping one into your core. Your back arches as he swallows your moans, his fingers sliding along your soaked cunt. He adds a second finger and pulls his head back to let you catch your breath. 

His eyes are dark, the fire casting streaks of gold and heat across them. It kisses along the scars on his face, dances up and down the sharp lines of his nose before dipping to his lips, mouth slightly agape in bliss. As Geralt adds a third finger and quickens his thrusts, you settle your hand in Jaskier’s hair, the thick locks silk around your fingers. You scratch lightly, flitting around Geralt’s hand that still clutches desperately to him. Jaskier starts focusing on just the tip of Geralt’s cock, sucking and licking as his hand moves up and down the rest of him.

Suddenly, Geralt pulls back, his cock falling from Jaskier’s lips. “Ah, wait, I..I don’t want this to end yet…” he gasps, his cock falling a bit under its own weight. You lean down, slipping your tongue into Jaskier’s mouth and tasting Geralt on his lips. You savor the taste, licking as much as you can as you pull Jaskier to the bedrolls. He stays kneeling and you settle on your knees, your back to him once more. 

“If you don’t mind, Geralt,” you say, looking up at the man towering over you, his silver hair starting to fall from the tie and flutter around his face. “I’ve gotten a little taste of you from Jaskier, and I would very much like to have some more.” 

You reach your hand to his and draw him down to kneel as well, directing him to sit facing you. Your eyes trail his body, roving up his hands to his broad shoulders, the swells of his chest to the meat of his thighs that you yearn to be buried beneath. His cock twitches under your gaze, another little bead of precome settling at the tip. You set your hands on his thighs, running them up and down, just feeling the strength that sits just under the skin. You dive forward and take him in your mouth, his member slick with saliva and his own arousal. You just barely let your tongue circle the tip, his hips jerking forward slightly. You grin before letting your mouth fall open and taking him as far as you can go, your hand moving to cover the rest at the base. Geralt growls, something ancient and enduring. He is warm and heavy in your mouth, and he gently runs his hands along your arms and down your back as you start to move your mouth along him. 

Jaskier grips your hips, fingers digging into the soft skin. He runs a finger along your slit, making you moan around Geralt’s length. You feel him throb in your mouth as Jaskier moves to press his cock to your core, coating himself in your slick. He shifts, aligning himself at your entrance. He strokes your hip with his thumb, a wash of sparks running in its wake.

“Ready, my love?” Jaskier asks, and you nod, pausing your movements so that he doesn’t push you further into Geralt than you can take. He takes you in one swift movement, all three of your moans a timeless symphony for the empty forest. 

He stills as you resume with Geralt in your mouth, pulling your cheeks in as you are filled from both ends. Every thrust that Jaskier makes sends you sparking along Geralt’s cock, his thighs shuddering beneath your hands as all of your climaxes rapidly approached. Weeks of wanting and waiting have led to this, and Geralt leans forward to catch Jaskier’s lips above you. It pushes both cocks impossibly deep, and as Jaskier’s hips snap against yours relentlessly, the wall of pleasure within your core shatters. Your back arches and you moan around Geralt’s cock and your cunt clenches Jaskier like a vice, squeezing and fluttering and pulling them both to their own climaxes. 

You feel Jaskier spill within you, his cock pressing against a spot that makes you see stars in your pleasure, and you can feel his spend start to drip down your thighs. Geralt makes a choked off noise above you, spending himself down your throat. Through the salty musk, you taste something sweet, it reminds you of blackberries but it’s darker than that. You swallow every bit, licking him through his climax and letting him go as his hands pulled you up to him. You feel Jaskier slip himself out of you, even more of his spend dripping from you in its wake.

You turn your head, allowing Jaskier the same privilege of tasting Geralt on your tongue, and he moans sweetly into your mouth at the taste. As you pull back, your chest heaving with every breath, you notice that Geralt is still hard and is staring at the both of you as if you were gods. You move forward, turning to lay on your back. Jaskier settles beside you, putting his arm underneath your head and placing a gentle kiss above your ear. 

“Geralt, please” you say, sounding much more desperate than you were going for. Geralt moved to kneel between your thighs, placing a burning kiss to the inside of your knee. He lines himself up and slowly inches into you. You hiss at the overstimulation, but you’re loose and wet from your previous climax so the burn is almost nonexistent. He leans over you, his nose brushing against yours and his medallion resting between your breasts as he starts to move.

He starts slow, but you meet his thrusts faster and faster, Jaskier sliding a hand to rub your clit in tight circles. Geralt shifts your hips and hits the bundle of nerves that rests deep within you, cursing as your legs lock around his hips. 

“Ah,” he says as you throw your head back and dig your nails into his shoulder, “there it is.” He sounds all too pleased with himself, but you can’t be bothered to make a witty remark in return. He moves harder and faster, hitting that spot over and over and over, and as you turn your head to meet Jaskier’s lips, you feel Geralt sink his teeth into the side of your neck and growl as he finds his next release inside of you. Each throb pushes further and further inside of you and you plummet into ecstasy once more, both of your climaxes prolonging each others’. You stutter out a stream of meaningless sounds, they could be curses, prayers, random kitchen ingredients, you’re not sure. All that matters are the stars under your eyes and the countless hands roving your skin. 

As you both come back down, Geralt slowly pulls back out of you and flops gracelessly onto the bedroll next to you. Jaskier turns, grabbing the skin of water and taking a sip before passing it around. The fire has burned to embers, the crackling once more the only sound in the darkness. You turn to Geralt, pulling him to lay on his side and rest against your chest. You place a kiss at the crown of his head as he wraps an arm around your waist, humming appreciatively as he feels Jaskier’s hand join his once more as the bard wraps himself around you from behind. Your legs are all tangled together, comfort and warmth and heartbeats and crackling embers lulling you to sleep, the darkness settling over you in her grasp.

[trad-masculine]

I'm dating again.

Which brings a very weird feeling to it, admiting this anonymously to people who follow me for doing a Masculine style thing on a blog. Speaking of I appreciate all of you for being interested in what amounts to one person's thoughts on being a man in the 21st century.

It might be palpable that I'm in an emotionally vulnerable headspace as I write this. Which, yeah, breakup, taking some time to myself to recalibrate, back to dating after over a year in a committed thing; it's emotionally heavy.

A bias to near prejudice, or at least strong dislike approaching disgust of mine is this; I do not like weakness in men. This is a feeling, & the idea of weakness is a felt thing, it's not born of an extensive philosophy, as most of what I think & feel tends to emerge from. This is visceral, the philosophy that it has is post hoc. I'm not sure, then, if this is the truest of beliefs I have, or the most distorted.

Weakness is not emotionality. This is a profound truth for me. As, the men I most respect, I have seen almost to a man, cry & bring forth tears to their eyes over depth of feeling, either of joy, of sorrow, or of compassion. I consider an absence of emotion a form of cowardice. Perhaps the central nature of it. As by my introspection, fear of emotion is what represses all the other emotions. Rolling off of this, I respect people who Know Fear. Being scared is an honorable place to be, if the emotion is appropriate. Cowardice isn't the act of being afraid, but of being only afraid. Having nothing meaningful within you to temper your fear.

I bring this up, because I want to talk about what the social process of dating does to men.

When on a dating app, nearly every guy is a player. Those that aren't are either very confused & naive, or are working something very specific. Player to me isn't a skill or approach, but an innate psychological state, let's call it Player Mode. There is also a psychological state which we can call Commitment Mode.

Spread your seed, or tend it, so to speak.

There is all sorts of powerful brain chemistry involved & the psychological states are deeply embedded in our psyche.

There are two very distinct ways to be a player, however. A Manipulator or a Lover. Possibly a third, I'll call a Sniper.

Before we get deep into that, let's walk through what happens when when you use a dating app, although playing the field at a bar or in the wild works somewhat the same, psychologically.

You start by swiping, liking & messaging girls. Some reply back. Let's say you come across a profile & immediately start crushing on the girl. You get nervous, so your message is shit, she doesn't reply. That's brutal if you think it through, breaking a crush hurts. You have to like/message about say, 50 girls to get a date. Breaking 50 crushes isn't a viable emotional strategy to get to step one of a relationship.

*Thus the emotional train is off the tracks, & for a deep relationship to happen the feeling must be rekindled, after you start to get to know the girl. >She needs to talk you into crushing on her.*

*This* is the central problem of dating. Because of the social process we have currently, men aren't chasing crushes, & so aren't entering a first date in the headspace that builds to true commitment.

The Manipulator is afraid of commitment, & of his own emotions controlling him, so he tells himself that the number of women he can lie to & talk into sleeping with him is the measure of his Masculinity. This is hard to argue with, man to man. The moral analysis isn't worth much. But the analysis that recognizes him & outs him as a coward, that has a better chance of productive impact.

The Lover can be powerfully passionate because his emotions are brought to the fore & made active as he goes into a relationship, as he wants to feel the love, but to balance himself, he lives in the moment. Generally, he doesn't lie or promise commitment. Regardless of the intensity of his feelings, he is still very embedded in the headspace of Player Mode. Since is isn't repressing or managing himself, after a time in a relationship, that player mode returns to the forefront as the honeymoon period ends & he finds himself drawn to a new & exciting Lover.

The Sniper can be of either type as default, but he is also looking for "the one." So he's judging women very directly between what he wants to lay short term, & who might be worth more effort & is worthy of commitment. I think I'd accurately describe myself as a Lover-Sniper.

I tried to not emotionality weight these, or apply judgement to the ideas. I simply want to be concise & analytical so there is clear understanding.

A pure Sniper is rare. The emotional insecurity of not having some form of a relationship is a powerful form of anxiety. There are plenty of guys who are "snipers" because they can't get a relationship. So they are mentally in commitment mode. This is, I think, the source of porn addiction & or simping. I know of guys who are on a high level & who had the self control to turn down offers of sex & relationships until they found someone they considered worthy. I wanted to be this, intuitively as a teen, but gave up the fantasy that I could win the girl of my dreams without having the confidence that comes from experience in realationships & in bed. This can get to a very disturbed & obsessive mindset. Stalkers are pure snipers. But there are other kinds.

*

My advice to someone in that kinda spot, to my past self. It's easy to get good at sex, it's easy to get good at being in a relationship with someone who sees the potential within you. Figuring out how to get girls to the point of willing & then to turn down those girls is useful. If purity of purpose & being is important to you, don't take the first girl who throws herself at you. The regret bites for a long time. But if porn takes you to a place where you aren't getting out & talking to girls, tossing the v card is easily worth it to get your headspace fixed.

*

There isn't a psychological dynamic that is in itself correctly healthy for men regarding approach sexuality, at least in the current dating environment. Chasing Crushes isn't scalable, & that is the root problem.

There's a type of girl who is only looking for "A Long Term Relationship Only." She isn't however, inticing. She doesn't know how to be wanted & desirable. She doesn't offer anything that brings out the crush which a man will need to be in in order to shift into a healthy commitment mode with her. I'm not certain what happens there, but I have to imagine everyone involved feels they are settling, & will hurt for the entirety of the relationship.

*

I'm writing this up as I'm trying to really think through how to solve the dating situation so that it works for more people. So relationships are successful & men & women are happy in them. It's not the most elegant or beautiful or composed thought I've had or published here, but this is deeply important to me.

Love shouldn't suck. We need to collectively figure out how to Make Love Lovely Again.

So, I have an idea I want to pitch, which has been difficult to get across to people I've talked to about this, such that the idea made sense to them. But I really think I'm close to right on this.

*

Women need game. Men have game. Fuck hookup PUA's but the actual technique tools of how to appeal to women are spectacularly useful. Women need to figure out how to appeal to men, not as sexual objects, but as potential relationships. Game for men is about getting laid. Game for women should be about getting men to fall for them & only them.

"Men are responsible for making the relationship, women for keeping it."

*

There's an ancient form of girlgame passed down generations mother to daughter. Just as there was an ancient form of guygame passed down from men to boys. We need to rekindle the dance between the Masculine & feminine in the realm of sexual relationship, dating & play. This fight thing we're all doing sucks.

Like most guys I want to find someone good enough to catch my heart, but I don't want to pretend for lifetime I've found the one when I haven't.

The love of men that isnt born of a crush is slow. The path of a crush is easy to explain, but deep love is a slow thing. I've seen love at first sight, or at least very close to it. But it's from a level of deep being that's so rarely reached mutually by two people who meet such that such a lightning connection can form. But I've also seen a relationship start from a small kernel & grow into a forest.

I firmly believe there's a lot of possible paths to True Love, I've seen several myself, but normative paths of how we find each other as sexual humans make us start in places within ourselves that make reaching True Love impossible, at least without a deep course correction at some latter point.

Those of us looking for that Sacred kind of love in fairy tales, that which we burn for, need to figure out how to survive with outselves long enough to find each other & get there together. Maybe this means breaking the rules of what we thing is "proper" dating.

Honestly, whatever we do, we need to figure this bitch out & work together to get back there. I'm tired of the men VS women game, tired of the fight being the normal way of things.

Hmu if you have some thoughts on how to do this love thing better together, I'll be listening to Hozier & watching Princess Bride. ✌️

[murielsphatass]

Hello, this is my attempt of telling the stories of Dark Souls, detailing what we know, and my thoughts on the things we don't. But in a world this big, where does one start? Well lets start with the beginning and see where it takes us.

We begin in the age of the everlasting dragons. With scales of stone, the dragons were immortal by natural means. The concepts of light and dark, hot and cold, life and death, had yet to be introduced to the world. And then, there was the first flame.

Within the flame, four lords found powerful souls.

Gwynn, who found the soul of light.

Nito, who found the soul of death.

The Witch of Izalith, who found the soul of life.

And the Furtive Pygmy, who is so easily forgotten.

Together, with the strength of lords, they challenged the dragons. Gwynn with his four knights, armies of soldiers, and his miracles. Nito, spreading death and disease to the dragons. And the Witch of Izalith, who wrought grand firestorms.

After the dragons defeat, began the age of fire. Gwynn set out to build his kingdoms, the Witch of Izalith began the exploration of pyromancy, Nito in alliance with the other lords, found a home in the crypts.

But the lords knew, the first flame would not last, and would fade in time. As it was Natures course, for the passing of the age of dragons, then the age of fire, with the age of man following in tow.

Lord Gwynn, fearing the age of man, the age of dark, sought to rekindle the first flame. He placed counter measures to impede the age of man. He divided man kind, creating new kingdoms that he would give to the people, acts that would paint him as a great leader and a benevolent lord, acts with a hidden desire.

He created the Ringed City, with walls towering over the highest peaks. A dragon that had been born and raised by kingdom of Anor Londo, was charged with guarding the city. And Gwynn's daughter, who would be praised as a goddess, a reminder, to always serve the light. However, these walls were not ment to protect the people, they were the walls of a prison. The dragon was not there to guard the people, but to slaughter them once out of sight and out of mind. And the Goddess, who taught the teachings of the light, so that man would not see the dark soul they held within.

Then the land of New Londo. A underground kingdom, ruled by the Four Kings, who had been gifted parts of Gwynn's own powerful soul so they could rule. However, as soon as the people had posed a threat, Gwynn ordered the flooding of the kingdom, mercilessly killing the residents.

And the land of Oolacile, where sorceries and miracles were prevelant. Since the land had served the light, was permitted to flourish.

The Witch of Izalith, watching as the flame slowly faded, had set to attempt to create a new flame. By utilizing her soul of life with her daughters, focused their pyromancies. A mistake that would soon be ever so clear. They were successful, to an extent, they created the Bed of Chaos, birthplace of the demons, and afflicted all but one of the witches with parasites. While they would not reach the goal they had in mind, they would in time, learn to embrace their parasites.

Gwynn, in a final effort to not lose what he cherished most, cast his own body and soul into the first flame. This is what I believe to be the first sin of the world, for he was successful. The flame absorbed him, and had reignited. But by using his own soul to link the fire, he had gone against nature's course. It is my belief that in doing this, he had beckoned forth the power of the dark soul, leaving all of man with the curse of the undead.

It is here that our journey begins, for as the prophecy is told "Thou who art Undead, art chosen. In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know." You are the chosen one, the one who will set out to collect the lord souls. And once you have the power of all the lords, the choice will be left to you, will you link the flame to create a new Age of Fire? or will you leave the world as it is? and let the age of man come to be.

[theangriestpea]

Amazing || Jughead Jones

Summary: College saw the end of Jughead and Betty, but perhaps that led the rekindling of Jughead and Lily...

Pairing: Jughead Jones x OC (Lily Owens)

Rating: Mature // Explicit

Word Count: 2.3k+

Warnings: shameless smut, thigh riding, public orgasm, mild hair pulling, v mild choking (I mean super duper mild), mirror sex

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS TO MY BESTIE @the-gargoyle-queen​! I wrote this entirely for her in a span of three days. Hopefully you love it, bby <3

It was late and the party was booming. The loud bass of the music vibrated in Jughead’s chest as he sat alone on one of the many couches in Thornhill. Archie had dragged him to this stupid party and had quickly abandoned him to go play ass grab with Veronica. Big surprise. 

Betty was dancing with some unknown college boy and his heart ached at the sight of her. They had both agreed that seeing other people while in college would be the best thing and now that it was winter break and all the old Riverdale students had come back home to celebrate the holidays, he had to watch how quickly and easily she had moved on. 

He himself had moved on, or so he thought until he saw her grinding against whoever this was on the dancefloor. Perhaps it was just longing to not be alone that plagued him. While away at the local community college he hardly thought of her. He mostly poured into his school work and was obsessed with the new book he was writing about growing up on the Southside. He didn’t have time to mourn his highschool sweetheart. 

A familiar face crossed into view, hand on her bare hip. He spied the serpent tattoo that was showing between her fingers. “Jughead Jones, I know you didn’t just come here to mope.” She said with a laugh. 

“You dyed your hair..” Jug mumbled as he spotted her once blonde locks were now a deep brunette. She was still as beautiful as he remembered and his mind drifted back to the night he took her virginity during one of his and Betty’s many breakups. She had felt so right then and he wondered why he had let her go back to Sweet Pea. Perhaps that was just how things were meant to be. 

Lily laughed lightly at his observation before shoving once of the cups in his face. “Drink! It’ll make you feel better.” She said happily, having missed her good friend (and long time crush).

Jughead grabbed the cup and drank it all in one continuous swallow. Lily watched him with an eyebrow quirked. If he was that thirsty why didn’t he just get a drink himself? He patted his lap, tongue running over his lips to collect the last of the weak horse piss he just forced down his throat. “Sit with me.” He said, not in an ordering tone but rather one that was airy and reminiscent. 

She smirked at him and sat down on his lap playfully, straddling the leg that he had just patted with his hand. She knew that wasn’t his intention when he made the gesture but it was amusing to watch his shock face slip into a devious look. 

He put the cup down on the end table and grabbed her hips. “It’s been awhile.” He said back as she settled down onto his jeans. He wished he could feel her underwear against his bare skin. What he didn’t know was that she hadn’t been wearing any.

His eyes dared to look down to see her skirt riding up so that he could see the tops of her thigh highs. There were little black bows on the end of her garter straps, causing him to swallow hard. Jughead had always had a terrible weakness for them. He especially loved to have sex with a girl wearing nothing but thigh highs. Bonus points if she wore garters to keep them up. His dick twitched in his pants almost painfully aware of just how attracted to her he still was. 

“How have you been?” He asked, silently wondering if she was seeing anyone. He knew her and Sweet Pea were no longer an item. He had stayed to go to trade school here in Riverdale while she went to the same college he did just south of Riverdale. He saw on her campus every once in a while. He had never worked up the courage to approach her. 

Lily smiled as she took a sip of beer from her cup. “Pretty good. Just trying to get through school, you know?” He nodded back to show that he did, in fact, know. All to well, actually. It wasn't particularly hard just a large workload. He had probably fulfilled his lifetime quota of all-nighters already and he was still a freshman. 

His thumbs rubbed her hip bones absentmindedly and he was pretty happy that she chose to wear her signature crop top with an open red flannel shirt. Better yet, for the first time since he arrived back in Riverdale he wasn’t thinking of Betty. He could hardly remember her name as he stared into Lily’s bright emerald eyes. 

“How is your book coming along?” She asked curiously, her head tilting to the side slightly as she ignored the spark his touched caused her in the pit of her stomach. 

Jug grinned, “Pretty good! I was hoping I could interview some other people that grew up on the Southside. Would you be interested?” 

Lily smiled and nodded before shrugging, “sure, why not? Sounds like fun.” 

A silence fell between them as they both stared at one another’s lips in longing. God how she had missed him and him her. It had been way too long since they had been together like this and while he had been so wrapped up with Betty during highschool he briefly wondered if maybe he should have been wrapped up in Lily instead… 

Jughead was the first to lean in. His lips met hers gently. He braced himself for her to pull away or leave his lap suddenly in anger, but she didn’t. Instead her lips moved against his, opening slightly so that his tongue could find its way into the familiar territory of her mouth. 

The music continued to hammer in their chests, their hearts moving in a fast paced rhythm to it as Lily hastily set her drink down on the table. One hand went to the back of his neck to tease the ends of his dark hair while the other planted itself on his shoulder. 

Soft moans reverberated between the two, intensifying the needy kiss that they both had been thirsting for for far too long. His hands were still firmly gripping her hips and a coy idea sparked inside his libidinous mind as his thigh hit her uncovered core. 

Suddenly Jughead broke the kiss on her lips to trail biting nips along her jaw to her neck. He found her weak spot and began to suck on it harshly as he began to forcibly move her hips so that she was grinding against his leg. Again he waited for a sign of protest, but instead low mewls began to tumble from her bee stung lips. 

“Juggie,” She whimpered into his ear as she started to move her hips on her own accord so that she could feel the delicious friction against her clit. Sparks of pleasure ran through her stomach from between her legs, her skirt riding up even more to accommodate the new range of motion. 

Jughead smirked against her skin as he bit her neck roughly. One of his hands left her hips since she was moving them herself now and palmed her breast through her clothes. The added sensation caused Lily to inhale sharply before moaning once more. 

She increased her pace desperately as a coil of desire wound its way in the pit of her abdomen. Her hips jerked down roughly and rhythmically until she covered her mouth with her hand to muffle the cry she let out upon release. 

Jug let go of her neck, kissing the back of the hand that covered her mouth as his hands moved to lightly hold her waist. Lily’s pupils were blown wide as she greedily took in air. She searched his blue orbs for what felt like an eternity before smirking at him, “ready for round two?” She asked in a joking tone as he gave her a curious look. 

Lily got off of him and grabbed his hand. He stood up off of the couch and followed her as she pulled him up stairs to the second level and to an unoccupied half bathroom. As soon as the door shut she was pulling him down for a rough kiss before hopping up on the sink counter. 

He found his place between her legs, pulling her closer to him by her thighs., His thumbs absentmindedly played with the ribbons that connected her socks to her garters. “You know what these do to me.” He said between wet kisses. 

She laughed, knowing fully well what they did to him. It was part of the reason why she wore them tonight. She had hoped she would see him here and maybe reconnect with him. After all, he seemed to ignore her any time they crossed paths at school. She needed him, even if it was just one last time. 

“I have a surprise for you, Jughead Jones.” Lily said in a voice filled with nothing but sinful seduction. He leaned away from her slightly, giving her the same inquisitive look that he had just downstairs. 

Lily pulled her skirt up to show that she was bare underneath, her secret finally revealed. “Fuck,” Was all he could breathe out at the delicious sight below him. His thumb moved between her legs to press against her clit, swollen from stimulation. Her head tilted back slightly as she moaned, louder now that they were in semi-private. 

Jughead was already rock hard in his jeans. He used his free hand to grab a condom from his back pocket and set it on the counter as Lily fiddled with the button to his pants. She unfastened it before pulling down his zipper. 

Soon enough she had freed his cock and her fingers were smearing his pre-cum across his engorged head. He bit his lip to keep quiet before pulling her off of the counter. Lily let out a squeak of surprise as he turned her around, “I want you to watch yourself,” He said, his large hand briefly wrapping around her throat to force her to keep her head forward, “watch your pretty face as I fuck you.” He whispered hoarsely into her ear before nibbling at the lobe. 

Lily inhaled, holding her breath with anticipation as she watched him put the condom on in the mirror. His hand had left her neck and she was silently hoping he’d put it back there. 

Jughead teased her slit of her labia with his tip. He looked up to make sure she was still watching their reflection and was pleased to see that she was transfixed on it. When he found the entrance to her core he pressed into it, easily sliding in due to how wet she was. 

A soft moan escaped Lily as he filled her completely, stretching her thoroughly with his dick. Jughead let out his own grunt of approval at how tight she was around him, her walls warm and smooth. 

One of his hands trailed up her back to grab her hair to hold her head in place so she couldn’t look away. He tugged it lightly as he pulled out almost completely before slamming into her again. Lily moaned again, this time much louder as he hit the sensitive spot inside of her. 

He watched her reflection as she bit down on her lower lip, waiting impatiently for him to move again. Her eyes connected with his with a pleading look. He simply stared back until she let out a groan of frustration, “Jughead, please, fuck me already!” 

He chuckled darkly before moving his hips in a fluid motion, pumping in and out of her at a reasonable pace. Not super fast but not slow either, simply perfect for the moment. Lily had a hard time looking at herself as she came undone, but also couldn’t look away mostly due to the firm grip he had on her hair. 

Her sounds of pleasure began to bounce off the walls as they became louder and louder. Jughead groaned multiple times as he sped up his pace. His other hand snaked around her front and began to prod at her clit again. 

Lily’s vision was becoming hazy as she struggled to keep eye contact with herself. She couldn’t close her mouth now, too much sound was coming out to do that. Her heavy pants were starting to fog the mirror as she was leaning over the counter more, unable to completely hold herself up on her own with how badly her legs were quaking. 

Jughead could feel her growing weaker, no doubt on the edge of her peak. He rolled her clit between his finger and thumb and Lily practically screamed at the sensation. Without much forewarning, her walls were suddenly contracting hard against him as she came. And for the first time she watched herself as she did so. Or at least, as much as she could before her eyes rolled back and closed. 

Jughead cursed at how much tighter she suddenly was. He pumped into her still, letting her ride out her high before finally hitting his own release. His cock twitched inside of her as he spilled a large load of semen into the condom. 

He rested his head on her back between her shoulder blades as they caught their breaths. Their chests moved in sync after a few minutes of heavy panting. Jughead lifted up slightly and kissed the side of her neck before straightening up and pulling out. 

Lily remained resting against the sink in a state of pure bliss. Her own liquids were trailing slowly down her thigh until she felt something soft clean it up. She lazily opened her eyes to see Jughead cleaning her up lovingly before cleaning off his own member. He even fixed her skirt so she was covered again. 

She licked her lips as she managed to sit up and turn around. “Want to go back to my place?”

His dark eyes clouded with lust once more, a storm brewing behind his bright blues. “And leave this amazing party?” He asked jokingly. 

A smirk formed on her lips, “oh Juggie, you haven’t seen amazing yet.”