#body betrayal

[narcissistichedonist]

"wait, no, please, stop... i can't, i'm too sensitive, i-it's too much..."

oh, sweetheart. but i did stop. not a single thrust, not a single movement from me. i'm just watching, hands firm on your hips, feeling the way your trembling body clenches around me

it's you who's still moving, you who's grinding down, sinking back onto my cock, body betraying you despite your countless pleas

you say stop, but look at you - so desperate, so needy, so fucking pathetic. impaling yourself over and over, ruining yourself all on your own

you're not fooling anyone other than yourself, my darling doll

[nevadaafterdark]

-> FARMBOY ON COWBOY ACTION <3

synopsis: thinking reeeaaally hard about working on a ranch/farm and pining over one of the really hot cowboys that work the cattle..

word count: ~900

(contents: t4t ftm4ftm, pet names (farmboy, beau, shug), frotting, fingering, light bullying/degradation, slight body betrayal, dubcon, nsft)

i'm still kinda new to writing porn! feedback is appreciated <3

you've been working on a farm, or maybe a ranch. the technicalities don't matter. maybe you're doing some of the lighter work, like tending to the chickens. y'know, collecting eggs, breaking broody hens, making sure the momma hens are getting enough to eat and drink as they stay with the eggs. it's a work-intensive job, but relatively light on the body. your boots are broken in but not overly worn.

but god if you can't keep your eyes off that one cowboy that saunters around like his dick is too big to fit in his blue jeans. he rides that shire horse like he's riding into war even though he's only herding cattle. you're lucky you can dish out excuses like watching the pasture for foxes and snakes when you're looking out at the cattle fields.

and yet, of course, luck isn't always on your side. one day, he confronts you about your lingering eyes (something about "you got a lazy eye? or a lack of respect?"). you adamantly deny everything -- obviously -- if only for the sake of his ego not growing too big. sure, you've interacted before, but this is new.

he laughs and takes your hand, his callouses abrasive against your softer hands. with less effort than you think it should take, he tugs you up into the saddle, practically on his lap. he laughs against the nape of your neck, his hot breath against your skin making you dizzy.

"what's the matter, farmboy?" he mumbles, his lips brushing against your skin. it sends electric tingling down your spine. "scared to take a ride? i just wanna show you somethin', that's all."

you deny it (saying something about the other workers not being competent enough to watch for hawks, which is honest-to-god bullshit) and squirm in the saddle. he wraps an arm around your waist and hisses out a warning to stay still. he squeezes the horse's sides with his calves and you're jostled as the horse starts walking, then trotting towards the treeline.

you ask him what he thinks he's doing. he just laughs, nipping at your neck and squeezing your middle again. his fingers find your belt and fiddle with the buckle. "it's alright, shug. i ain't gonna kill you or nothin'."

after a few minutes of riding (and his fingers dipping into the waistband of your pants but laughing and taking them out when you gasp), the horse comes to a stop in a forest clearing. he lifts you off the saddle, then hops off.

he unhooks his personal bag off the horse's saddle and drapes it over his shoulder. he gives the horse's dock a light slap, and it canters off, back towards the ranch.

the clearing is nice -- there's wildflowers dotting the tall grass and a rocky crag shadowing half the clearing. he stands behind you, his hands finding your belt buckle again. you gasp, and he laughs, breathy against the shell of your ear.

you call him an asshole and he just laughs again. "oh, you don't mean that, shug. i can tell."

before you can protest, his hand dips into your pants, his fingers immediately gliding over your tdick and running the pad of his finger down your slit. he chokes back a groan. "fuck. goddammit -- you just walk around like this, huh?"

you exhale heavily and deny it. you deny it even though you're hard, even though you're dripping, even though you're fighting the instinct to buck your hips into his hand.

he grinds against your ass, his belt buckle digging into your skin as he dips a finger in you. you hiss, and he laughs. "what, don't like that, farmboy? then maybe you shouldn't be walkin' around, wet and ready and just waitin' for someone to take you."

you huff, your breath becoming more labored as he starts moving his finger. you scoff and your head falls back against his shoulder as he adds a second, rubbing the heel of his hand against your tdick with every motion. he curls his fingers, his fingertips brushing against that rough spot inside you that makes you spit and curse like a feral cat.

"fuck this," he growls under his breath. he fumbles with your belt buckle, undoing it before undoing the button of your jeans and tugging down the fly. he circles around you, undoing his own belt, button, and fly.

he flicks the body of his bag behind him, then grabs your waist with enough force to bruise and brings your hips to his. both you and him let out strangled sounds as the heads of your tdicks bump and rub against each other. he ruts against you, groaning lowly.

"goddamn, shug, you're so fuckin' hard," he manages through his whining noises. "do i do this to you? don't answer, i already know."

you hiss out something along the lines of telling him to shut the fuck up, choking back your moans. you angle your hips and grind forward. both you and him groan and curse and just rut against each other like desperate mutts.

he guides you backwards, pushing you back against the bark of a tree, still grinding against you. he pulls away a little to reach into his bag. he pulls out a strap-on, one that's thick and heavy and matches his brash personality perfectly. the harness clinks as he holds it up with a shit-eating smile.

"you ready for the main show, farmboy?"

[jesterfairy]

"Mine. Every breath, every thought, every whispered plea—I own them all." 🖤

[anoriginalandfunnyname]

I had a wisdom tooth extraction yesterday and it was incredibly painful and uncomfortable. And the thing is, I'm generally fine with pain. But sickness is something I have never been able to handle gracefully. As someone who grew up in a traumatic home all I had to be grateful for was that my body didn't add any literal pain to my life(body image issues notwithstanding). But to have a tooth extracted when I have never even had a cavity before felt like such a betrayal from my body. It was like someone unspoken understanding was broken. Life is hard enough..past, present and future. And I can't believe that my body isn't sympathetic to that. Which is ridiculous I know but all I can think of was that song by Johnny Cash "the body is a cage" which I believe is the most dramatic way to deal with a very routine dental procedure.

[elijahwoodnot]

save me blue Powerade…….blue Powerade save me

[somewhatsentientspellbook]

There's just something so fascinating about the way the Exandrian pantheon has decided to handle the Aeor Situation™ - by electing a few of their kind to be born as mortals in order to infiltrate the city.

The first to bring herself low was Ioun, and I can only imagine how lonely that must have been for her. To feel infinite wisdom creeping into her adolescent mind? To rise through Aeor's ranks knowing what they'd do to her if the authorities discovered the truth of her existence? Waiting, hoping, perhaps even praying that the other gods would follow through with the plan.

Sarenrae has a husband and children as Trist. I can't help but consider the parallels to Liliana Temult, with a 'higher calling' pulling a mother away from her family. The conversations in the temple suggest that she would have been aware of what she was by the time she started her family. Yet she loves them, cherishes them, even knowing that she might not see them again. Will Amaris, Haylie, and Topher learn that Trist is a goddess? Or will that only be discovered when they find their way to her realm in Elysium?

The Matron was once mortal, and she willingly returned to that form in order to help her newfound siblings dismantle the Aeorian threat. Her steward since childhood was Purvan, helping raise and guide her despite his old age. Imagine being a little girl, guarded by the Champion of Ravens himself and his wolven companion, completely unaware of your own divinity until later in life. Imagine the night she woke up, remembering her ascendency, seeing Purvan and recognising him.

And what of the families that gave birth to and raised the four Betrayer Gods? What of the halfling family who watched their precocious daughter scale a fence with far too much ease than it should be? The day the tortle's parents found him crying in pain and tearing at his skin to distract himself from a memory so distant and yet so real? Or Milo, who became a priest, not to follow in the light of the Dawnfather (like his parents may have thought), but to mock his brother even as a mortal?

These gods spent entire childhoods with families and friends, taking refuge from the skirmishes caused by their other siblings. Who, despite those similarities, have very different opinions of humanity, of Aeor, and themselves.

[takenbtwind]

Been binging Tom Hiddleston media and I have an important chart for you all

[turtleblogatlast]

Imo the most impressive thing Leo’s done is hold this pose for as long as he did while covered head to toe in gold paint:

[dobodleaday]

09.21.24 “I feel empty. Don’t you?” 🫀

[jupiters-shortest-martian]

People who havent read the books are gonna get such a shock when the find out clarrise is a good guy and luke is a bad guy

[perpetuallyscreamingbird]

I think the voice of the cold intrests me as a character so much because he's such a real and visceral response to their circumstances. Which is true for all the voices and each is intriguing to dig into in a different way, but this post is about cold the others will get their turn (probably)

Imagine with me, for a second, you've only just learned what it means to exist and you've already been discarded.

You've done everything you were told without question. This is your purpose and you were promised Good at the end of it and you do it and you do it well. Your guide, and authority figure you should be able to trust who is seemingly so much more experienced in this world than you even seems happy with you. You must be doing it right

Then you're abandoned. The only Good for you is an eternity of nothing. The only way you can be Good is to hurt others and to not exist at all.

Wouldn't that leave you empty? Hurt, clawing for something, anything to fill that void. You had Purpose and it turned out to mean nothing, you had a vague promise of Good and it turned out to be nothing.

You can't be Good, can't fulfil that Purpose when all of it means nothing, when you've been lied to and led to be locked in a box for the rest of time. And rather than feel that hurt, you claw it out of yourself with your own two hands, and the same implement you'd used to fulfil your Purpose.

All he wants is that Good he was promised, and to him that's the opposite of that box. It's the opposite of Nothing. It doesn't matter if it hurts him, if it hurts somebody else, if it feels good or feels bad, he just craves something that will make him feel. That will make everything worth it in the end, that will free him from the monotony and inherent stagnation of the situation he's in. What use does he have for morality in pursuit of this? What use is morality in this situation anyway? Where everything is being presented with such grand consequences, where everything is both right and wrong, where these consequences never seem to quite stick for him regardless? So he simply encourages action, in whatever form that may take.

Because it's so much more intresting if it's an active choice. Something is always better than that empty cabin surrounded by nothingness all around he's subconsciously running from. Because cold is most aware of their godly nature, and so is most aware of whats always missing no matter what they do. Who tries to fill that emptiness, first with Purpose then with Action.

For a voice that claims to feel nothing at all a lot of his drive is purely emotional. He wants to be intrested, he wants to be engaged, he wants to feel something even if it hurts. He wants to feel connection to this body the same way the other voices do, and yet criticises them for feeling in that way.

At the core of it all, he wants back what he's lost. And by his very nature he cannot have it.

[sqrkyclean]

genuinely so baffled by that ask still. i cant even get into it without traumadumping but god how i wish that were true

[terrumdurak]

continuing those sketches with two more pages

[thatcatangelwriter]

annabeth doesn't talk about what luke said when he came to her house asking her to run away with him and no matter how hard the others try she won't say anything.

[cutter-kirby]

one of my favorite things to come out of the book of bill is all of the bill possessing ford content. like both in canon and in fanworks. bipper did something irrevocable to me back in 2014 but ciphord/bord is such a unique clusterfuck of possession horror and it haunts me.

[skunkes]

can i ask why ur getting the surgery? /gen curious /no hate

i am getting a bi(lateral)salp(ingectomy) bc i never want to be pregnant or be a parent!

Even if i do change my mind later about the parent thing (not super likely but things can change, sure) theres noooo shortage of single parents lmao

And even if I never End Up In The Circumstance(s) Where I COULD Become Pregnant in my life, I'd want the peace of mind anyway...

I've always felt disgusted that this is something my body is capable of. I want it to be MY body and not a site and vessel for potential tragedy in any direction. And I want it to be something permanent and not dependent on access to services/medicines or even laws!!! Dis is a gender affirming surgery for me honestly...