#can you imagine how liberating it felt?
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ivan-fyodorovich-k ¡ 4 months ago
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well lots to think about there
#I think...#it's good to come right out and say that turning back the clock is not the solution#i think that's accurate#the idea that you can have women kind of emerge as serious players in the last couple generations and then just snatch it away#not only is it cruel it's patently ridiculous#that said some of the concluding bits#I don't know#I wonder#is there an appetite for that kind of irenic posture?#it seems hard for one to adopt that yes-also posture you can be interested in women's liberation and also acknowledge this other problem et#he says something about how when you look at the 'traditional' way of thinking about gender issues and the traditional direction#you can't be surprised if all you have to offer men is to tell them how horrible they are or just to sign them up as allies#they just look elsewhere#i've felt that way about it for a long time#i've spent my whole life hearing about what utter garbage men are from every corner#not in the least from women telling me all the things Men have done to them#there's just no possible coherent response i can imagine#i've been increasingly worried as my sons get older that all i really have to offer them is an admonition not to be a rapist#and perhaps more broadly to get out of the way of women#this is the feeling among all the academics i know#put your tail between your legs submit smile no matter what they say about you and they do say some hurtful things and laugh#or else#again#this non-starter solution to just become some wild misogynist provocateur#I guess the stated goal of this guy's work isn't so much to establish solutions as it is facts#I do wonder what the solution could be#i sympathize with the desire to check out#oh I also cannot imagine any kind of positivity about fatherhood that would land or ring true or anything like that#however essential they find the presence of fathers to be#but that's another discussion
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aurorawritestoescape ¡ 6 months ago
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I KNOW BETTER THAN TO CALL YOU MINE
Pre outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader || 7k
Summary: Joel lets himself have a treat. You.
Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, slight age gap (reader’s in her early 20s, Joel is 30), sex work, idiots in love, soft Joel, praise kink, size kink, f/m oral, cum eating, alcohol consumption, m!masturbation, sex toy usage, bondage, protected/unprotected piv, creampie, light pussy spanking, somno, aftercare, mention of degradation, pet names (baby, sweetheart, honey). Reader has hair, wears dresses. Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.
A/n: this is for @janaispunk ‘s 1500 kisses challenge. My prompt was ‘first kiss’ with Joel Miller. Congrats again, Jana, and thank you for the fun challenge!😘 The pic in the m/b is from this post by @liminaltourist. Hugs and kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘🫂 dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 The title is from the lyrics of ‘Let’s fall in love for the night’ by FINNEAS. Hope you will enjoy this story! Love you all!💖
MASTERLIST
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Joel met you at Tommy’s birthday party and was instantly attracted to you. You were beautiful, sweet, funny, a little shy which he found charming. You told him that you worked as a waitress, meanwhile looking for a steady job after graduating college. He spent the whole night talking to you. The whole night being a couple of hours when he had a sitter for Sarah. Joel noticed a trace of sadness in your gorgeous eyes while you two were saying your goodbyes and for a second he regretted the way his life turned out. A single father at the age of thirty, working tirelessly to give his daughter the best life he could. But all the regrets vanished into thin air the moment he returned home and saw Sarah, sleeping peacefully in her bed. He planted a gentle kiss on her temple and quietly went to his empty bedroom. She was his life and he was ok with it.
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Next time when Joel went out with Tommy for a drink, he asked about you in passing. He tried to make it seem like a simple curiosity but his younger brother still gave him a knowing smirk. Joel really liked you but his life was hectic enough. Work and being a single parent took all his time and he couldn’t squeeze in a relationship. He wouldn’t be a good boyfriend, he thought, and you deserved only the best. But your image— your eyes, your smile, your body, was flashing behind his eyes again and again, reminding him that he had needs and desires.
After a few beers and tequila shots, their conversation circled back to you and Tommy blabbed out that you worked as an escort. Joel was astonished. You seemed shy and sweet. He had never been against sex work but he always imagined a different type of people in that business. He didn’t know what to make of it but he felt his cock twitch, thinking of how sexually liberated you were.
He thought about asking for your number, but Tommy would tease him to death and he decided not to.
The next time you met Joel was at another Tommy’s party. Joel agreed to come, wanting to see you again. You talked and laughed like before but the air was almost electric between you two. The glances were darker, your hand brushing his skin here and there made him want more— touch you, feel you close against his body. He could save up and do all that if you agreed. So he made a decision and offered to drive you home when the party was over.
As soon as Joel parked his car at your driveway, he cleared his throat and asked if he could see you sometime.
“Are you asking me out on a date?” Your voice was soft and a shy smile tugged at your lips.
“Ehm… fuck, I —I know what you do,” Joel admitted, turning to you slightly in the driver’s seat, “Tommy told me when he was drunk. Forgive him and me, please, ok? And— I don’t know what you call that, but— can I meet you for an appointment?”
Your face fell and you were blinking at him with a mouth agape. Joel’s heart froze- what if Tommy had been fucking with him and you didn’t sleep with people for money.
After a few longest seconds of his life, you took a deep breath and gave him a little nod. Joel asked you about the details and you explained to him what he needed to do to book a session with you and though you were talking about sex, it sounded cold and dry. You gave him a little smile before getting out of the car and he drove off with the thought that he had made a mistake.
He really didn’t plan to call you, thinking he had killed whatever spark and connection you two had, but his thoughts returned to you again and again. He was hearing your laugh everywhere and your face was behind his eyelids every time he went to sleep.
One night after a few beers he imagined you in his bed and his hand flew to his already stiffening cock. He shut his eyes and saw you next to him, naked and ready for him. Pleasuring himself, Joel imagined your hand wrapped around his length, sliding up and down, then your mouth sucking on his tip and soon he was spurting his load all over his stomach and fist. He could have you, you already agreed to it, and he deserved to feel good, to treat himself once in a while. With those thoughts on his mind he texted you and booked a session.
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Joel tried to be on time for your first meeting, but everything seemed to go wrong that day and when he arrived at a hotel, you were already waiting for him at the bar. He showered you with apologies for being late but you assured him that it was ok. He felt the flames of desire, when he took you all in. Your black dress was hugging your body perfectly and he couldn’t wait to take it off you.
You had already got a room for them so Joel followed you to the elevator. He had never been that nervous in his life. You must have noticed it, so you took his hand and gave him a warm smile.
“I’m so glad we’re doing this, Joel.”
“Never done this before,” he admitted when the elevator doors opened and you walked to the room.
“It’s ok, Joel. I’m sure we’re going to have a great time,” you said, smiling to him, and opened the door.
When Joel stepped inside, he saw a typical hotel room with one big bed. You turned to him and asked,
“Before we start, do you have any questions or suggestions about what you want us to do?”
Joel swallowed loudly.
“I want —, he scratched the back of his neck and continued, “just the usual, I guess.”
“The usual?” you repeated with a little smirk.
“Yeah, just sex.”
You pouted your lips in thought, then smiled with mischief in your gaze and slowly came up to him.
His breath hitched when your behavior changed in front of his eyes, like a little kitten turned into a panther in a matter of seconds. You looked the same but there was an allure in your every move, each glance was magnetic, as if you were calling for him to touch you, fuck you. You were irresistible. Your body was inches away from him, your perfume subtle but enticing, enveloping him, and you purred,
“I don’t think we want it to be ‘just’ sex, Joel. How about we make it special.”
Your tongue caressed your lower lip and he slowly leaned down. You swiftly swerved him and instead of tasting your lips, he nuzzled your cheek.
“I’m sorry, Joel— I don’t kiss on the lips during sessions.”
“Oh fuck, sorry.” Joel felt really bad and explained, “I got carried away... I’ve read the rules you sent me… I remember no kissing part, like in “Pretty Woman”,” Joel chuckled, rubbing his scruffy cheek in a nervous gesture.
You giggled, too, probably trying to make him feel more comfortable, “Yes, just like in “Pretty Woman.”
Without noticing it, he tried to memorize the sound of your laugh, how pretty it was. You slightly pulled away from him and tilted your head.
“How about I take the lead at first and then we’ll see how it goes?”
Joel nodded. He wanted to take your dress off, carry you to the bed and fuck you till you screamed his name. But he was afraid to do something wrong, he’d never been in that type of situation. You took his hand and gently caressed it, your fingers dancing over his hardened skin. Then he watched you bring it to your red lips and kiss his palm. You glanced up at him with your big beautiful eyes, not taking his hand away and his whole body reacted to your gentle touch. He was getting hard.
You led Joel to the bed, your fingers intertwined with his, and gently pushed on his shoulders to make him sit down. You slowly took your dress off and he tried not to start drooling like a cartoon wolf, seeing you in front of him in a black lacy set.
You stood between his spread thighs and bent over to tug at the hem of his dark tee. He helped you to take it off and when you kneeled in front of him, he almost moaned. Your beautiful face was so close, he wanted to kiss you so much but he couldn’t and he’d never do anything you didn’t want.
You unbuckled his belt and softly asked him to take his jeans off.
Soon Joel was sitting there in his boxer briefs with you on your knees between his spread thighs.
"You're so hot, Joel," you whispered, as your dark gaze slid over the expense of his broad shoulders and chest, and your nails slightly scratched his muscular thighs.
He breathed out a laugh, shaking his head. He wanted to tell you how gorgeous you look, wearing your lingerie and your high heel shoes, how much he'd been thinking about you since the day you'd met but his mouth was dry and he felt himself like a teenage boy who was trying to compliment a hot girl.
You weren't aware of his inner torment. As always calm and confident, you leaned closer to his torso and kissed a spot on his chest, right over his heart. Joel took a sharp breath and shut his eyes for a second, trying to calm down. He couldn't believe what just a gentle chest kiss from you was doing to him, but he was already painfully hard.
Your lips glided lower and you started leaving open mouth kisses, tracing a path down to the bulge in his boxers, and he opened his thighs wider to give you more space. When your face was close to his clothed cock, you rested your head on his left thigh and looked up at him.
“Fuck,” Joel cursed and growled at the sight of you so close to his already throbbing manhood. You were so pretty, so obedient but even on your knees he felt that you controlled the situation.
“Joel?”
“Yes, baby?”
You smiled hearing the pet name and asked,
“Can I take you in my mouth?”
His cock visibly twitched when he heard your soft voice and the words you uttered.
“If you want.”
You bit your lower lip and asked, rubbing your cheek on his hairy thigh.
“I do but would you like me to?”
Joel nodded eagerly, maybe too eagerly but he didn’t care. He wanted you so much.
With a content smile, you sat up straight and shifted on your knees, getting comfortable. Then you pulled at the waistband of his boxers and in a second they were on the floor and his cock was bobbing in front of your face. Your breath visibly hitched and you glanced up at him.
“You have a gorgeous cock, Joel Miller,” you whispered and he wanted to kiss you again, hearing the praise. But instead he brought his hand to your face and cupped your cheek. You purred into his touch but parted from his palm in a second when you lowered your face and kitten-licked the fat tip of his cock. Joel sighed and bucked his hips already impatient for more. You didn’t make him wait long.
Your lips soon welcomed his cock between them as you started taking him deeper, covering his length with your warm saliva as your hand was firmly wrapped around his girthy base.
Joel moaned loudly at the sensation, he didn’t care what sounds he was making, completely lost in the pleasure your soft lips and skilful tongue were giving him.
Your mouth was slowly caressing his cock as your curved up lips were sliding over his sensitive skin and your tongue danced around the fat head, now and then stroking the leaking slit. There was so much precum, he saw you swallow it again and again. Your hand was gently massaging his balls and his big palm was lying on your head, not pushing, just showing you how much he needed you at that moment. Joel was in heaven.
Soon you took all of him and your throat contracting around his length was the last straw. He was dangerously close to coming and painting your mouth creamy white. But he had other plans for you.
“Shit, baby,” he cupped your cheek and gently pulled you off his ready-to-explode cock, “you’re too fucking good at it. I won’t last. And I wanna..”
He lost his words as you were looking at him with sparkling eyes, full of understanding and warmth.
“Of course, Joel.” You slowly got up on your feet and took off your high heels. Then you padded to the nightstand and opened the drawer. Joel saw a few toys lying there and his heart started to beat faster when he imagined using them on you. Maybe he could suggest it, he mused inwardly, but when you started sliding your panties and bra off your body, he lost his train of thought.
Now completely naked you came up to him and placed your hands on his broad shoulders. Then you planted your knees on each side of him and got on his lap.
“You’re beautiful,” Joel said in a low voice as his hands found your hips and he rubbed your skin with his calloused thumbs.
You thanked him, smiling, and opened the package with your teeth. You brought the condom to his hard cock, slid it on and then got up on your knees, your pussy hovering over Joel’s tip.
You searched for his eyes and as soon as your eyes locked, you started sinking on his thick length.
Joel watched pleasure twisting your face while his cock was slowly parting your insides. He moaned at the sensation of your wet warm pussy welcoming him, grasped your hips tightly and when you took all of him, your ass was flush with his balls, you both loudly sighed.
“You feel so good, baby. So warm and tight.”
“Thank you, Joel. Your cock is so fucking big.”
He took a sharp breath, hearing you curse, and at the back of his mind he wondered if you said it to every client but he drove the thought away. He needed you too much.
Your breasts were right in front of his face and he asked, looking up at you, as if you were a goddess he was praying to.
“Is it ok if I kiss your body?”
“Yes, Joel, please. You can do anything to me.”
“Just not kiss your beautiful lips?”
“Joel,” you whined and he felt you clench around his hard cock.
He scolded himself for those words as soon as they left his stupid mouth. It was the thing you kept for yourself, he understood and accepted it but his desire drove him insatiable.
“I’m sorry, baby, I know it’s a rule. I understand it. It’s jus’ my brain doesn’t work properly, all the blood is down there.”
“Oh, right,” you softly giggled, “Let me shut you up then.”
You lifted your hips, making his cock almost leave the heaven of your cunt, but when the tip was close to slipping out, you sank back down on his manhood inch by inch, gliding your hands over his broad chest.
Joel’s mouth got slack and you both moaned at the ecstatic sensation of him, filling you up again.
With a groan Joel swiftly put his mouth on your breast and you whimpered when he swirled his tongue around your perky nipple. While he was gently sucking and licking your tits, you were languidly riding him, as soft whimpers were leaving your half parted mouth. At one point you nuzzled his forehead and your hot breath on his lips let him imagine you kiss him. His fingers dug into your hips but just for a second. Afraid to hurt you he glided them over your back and arms. He raised his lips to your neck and kissed your skin there.
Joel knew that he was getting close. His hand slithered to your pussy and he slipped his thumb between your folds. He found your clit hardened and throbbing for attention. He began stroking it slowly and you reacted immediately with the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
“Joel,” you breathed out and he clenched his jaw, trying not to explode right then and there.
“Want you to come on my cock, baby.”
You stopped bouncing on his member and he saw you furrow your brows in concentration.
He made his thumb dance faster over your bud and soon your pussy was pulsating around his cock. Your contracting walls sent him over the edge and he started coming, filling up the condom inside you. Oh, how he wished to paint your walls with his creamy load but rules are rules.
As you both started descending from your highs, panting heavily, Joel held you in his big arms and you rested on his broad chest. You were breathing into the crease between his neck and shoulder and at one point he thought you’d fallen asleep.
But the next second you sat up straight on his lap with a satisfied smile. You gently kissed his scruffy cheek and he tried not to purr like a happy cat.
You cuddled a little bit more but soon his time was over.
“Can I see you again?” He asked when you got out of the bed.
“I’d love to, Joel,” you replied, putting on your underwear, “Text me when you have a day in mind.”
You looked like you wanted to say something but stopped yourself. You put on your clothes, kissed his cheek again and left.
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After the first time with you Joel knew immediately it wasn’t the last. The need to have you, to be with you again squeezed his heart as soon as that hotel door closed behind you. But he wasn’t rich. He couldn’t spend all his money on you. So he started saving up here and there, anything he could, without damaging the level of life of his daughter.
He texted you as soon as he had enough to pay you and you told him that your regulars got a discount which was a nice surprise for him.
Joel invited you to his place. Sarah was at a sleepover and he had the house for himself for a night. He needed just a couple of hours, no way he could afford a whole night with you.
When you arrived at his place, wearing a pair of tight jeans and a tank top, his mouth immediately started watering. He tried to be a gentleman and a good host and gave you a tour of the house, but when you stepped into his bedroom, all his decency came crashing down. Soon your jeans were discarded on the floor while his head was between your trembling thighs. Joel was licking up your juices straight from the source, grunting into your wet cunt and fucking his tongue into your clenching hole. He was fully clothed, grinding his hard cock against the bed and staining his gray sweatpants.
You were singing for him so beautifully when he began plunging his thick fingers in and out of your heat while his mouth was gently sucking on your throbbing clit. Your back was arched and your hands were clutching his dark curls. He curled his fingers, pushing on that soft spot inside your creaming pussy once, twice and you came, crying out his name, while your walls were fluttering around his digits.
When he parted from your puffy glistening cunt, he saw tears in your hazy eyes. Joel was happy he still got it but what filled his chest with pride was that he made you cry and writhe with ecstasy.
"I'm here, baby. You did so good for me," Joel praised you, climbing up the bed and taking you in his arms. You were trying to catch your breath and he gave you a respite, manhandling you so your head would be resting on his broad shoulder.
"Thank you, Joel, you didn't have to," you mumbled.
"Have to? Sweetheart, it was my pleasure."
He heard your giggle, followed by a content sigh. His hard cock was tenting his gray sweatpants but he didn't care. He was happy to hold you, breathe in the fruity scent of your hair, and when a few minutes later he saw you peacefully sleeping in his embrace, his heart almost burst with affection. He closed his eyes for a second and drifted off too.
Joel woke up in the middle of the night when he felt you move in your sleep. He must have woken you up as you started to shuffle next to him and then sat up straight.
“Fuck! I fell asleep?” You asked, eyes widened, covering your naked thighs with a bedspread.
“Yeah, me too.”
“I’m so sorry, Joel. It’s never happened before. Oh my god, it’s so unprofessional.”
He hastily sat up next to you, taking your hands in his.
“Hey, no. It’s ok. I loved sleeping with you— next to you.”
He smiled, leaning closer to you and rubbing your hands with his thumbs, trying to reassure you and it seemed to work because you gave him an apologetic smile but he felt you relax a little.
“I won’t take any money from you today.”
“No, you spent so much time with me. I owe you even more.”
“Joel, you ate me out, made me come, and then I fell asleep. I definitely don’t deserve to get paid,” you giggled. “The way I see it I owe you now.”
“I’ll think about the career change,” Joel chuckled and at the same time he felt his cock get harder when you talked about the oral. The arousal he had felt before falling asleep came back with a renewed force and swept him away.
He wasn’t smiling anymore, his gaze slid up and down your body and the air in the room got heavier.
“What did you like the most?” he asked as his eyes darkened.
Your breath hitched and even in the dim light of the room he saw your pupils dilate. You dropped your gaze for a second and when you raised your eyes, they were filled with need and desire.
“I loved how much you enjoyed it. How good you were. It felt amazing when your mouth was on my clit. When you were sucking it,” you bit your lip almost shyly and your words went straight to his cock.
You whispered, “Should I go or…?”
“I wanna fuck you,” Joel interrupted you, palming his stiffening bulge, and you quickly nodded before throwing away the bedspread and taking off your top. Your tits bounced as you straddled him and he wrapped his big arms around your naked body.
Joel let you take off his shirt and when your lips latched onto his neck he held you closer and flipped you on the bed, covering you with his body.
You gasped at the fast shift but then moaned when Joel pulled his cock out of his sweatpants.
It was already hard as a rock and wet with precum under his fingers. He gave it a few pumps to spread it over his heated skin.
“Shit, condoms.”
He hastily reached to grab a pack from the nightstand. He opened one, while your fingers were caressing him, dancing over his torso and arms. As soon as the protection was on, you pulled him closer and he pushed his length into you without any warning. He had already stretched you with his tongue and fingers so his tip easily slipped into your crying hole.
“Oh, yeah, baby,” Joel breathed out and started rolling his hips. His lips were caressing every spot he could reach and you were kissing his shoulders and neck.
Without pausing he braced his hands on the bed, hovering over you, his dark gaze locked with yours. He wanted to memorize every lip bite, every twitch of your brows when his cock was sliding in and out your needy cunt. You were so wet for him, he felt your juices on his balls and inner thighs and he closed his eyes trying not to come too soon.
“Look at me, Joel,” you purred and he immediately did what you asked. Your gaze slid from his dark eyes to his lips and it took everything from him not to kiss you right now.
He leaned down and instead gently kissed your heated cheek, leaving a wet spot on your soft skin. With a whimper you wrapped your legs around his waist and started grinding your hips, chasing your orgasm by rubbing your little clit against his pubic bone.
“Do ya wanna come, sweetheart?
“Only if you want me to, Joel,” you breathed out and he furrowed his brows, reminded of the nature of your relationship.
“ ‘course I do.”
With that he pulled away from you and sat up on his knees between your sweaty thighs. “Let me…,” he pulled out and you whined.
“Oh, baby, so impatient.”
You bit your lip with a sly smile but Joel quickly wiped it off your face when he took the condom off and asked,
“Can I slap your pretty pussy with my cock, sweetheart?” He gripped his cock at the base, squeezing it a little to postpone his climax and when you whispered a sultry ‘yes’ he slapped your clit with the tip of his throbbing length.
“Oh my god, Joel!” you cried out with a jerk, looking up at him with your brows pulled together and eyes rolling back.
“You like it?” He asked and when you nodded he started slapping your pulsating bud with his cock again and again until he saw some slick, seeping out of your clenching hole. He rubbed his red tip against it, coating his manhood with your juices, and began grinding it between your folds. His tip was bumping into your clit rhythmically and your taut muscles told him that you were close to your climax.
“Come for me, baby, please,” he asked softly and slapped your clit one more time. A jolt of pleasure made you shut your eyes and a loud moan escaped your lips. Wanting to prolong your orgasm and chasing his, Joel pressed his tip to your clit with his hand and started thrusting his cock, rubbing your twitching clit and at the same time massaging his whole length against your soft pussy and his own palm.
The overwhelming sensation, your sweet sounds and the sight of you coming in his bed made him explode and he began spurting creamy ropes of cum on your belly and sternum. He growled when a few drops landed on your bouncing breasts.
When you both stilled and the ecstasy started dissipating he sat down on his heels and watched you for a few seconds.
Joel wanted to remember that image- you, beautiful and satisfied, eyes shut, chest and belly heaving, was splayed on his bed, body glistening with sweat and cum. The happiness soon mixed with regret and the feeling of longing for more, wishing you were really truly his tightened his chest. But the reality was cruel. You didn’t need a single father in your life, you were free and your whole life was ahead of you.
Your curious gaze interrupted his thoughts.
“What are you thinking about, Joel?” You asked with a warm smile.
“I'm thinking my bed has never looked better than now.”
Your smile turned into a grin and you started to sit up but Joel stopped you with a raised hand.
“Let me clean you up, sweetheart.”
He went to the bathroom to get a wet towel and then gently wiped away his cum off your skin.
Before you left, he hugged you, breathing in the scent of your hair one more time and you gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.
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You kept seeing each other for another month. Joel preferred his place to hotels and whenever he had the house for himself and got enough spare money, he would text you. In his own home it was easier to imagine you as his girlfriend, or even wife. He knew that it wasn’t healthy and he was getting a little delusional but it made him happy to think that you were his. If only in his dreams.
Sometimes Joel would literally dream about you. He’d wake up hard, yearning for your touch, your lips on his body, your gentle fingers running through his hair. It was easy to imagine you there with him. His hand would pump his needy cock and the image of you behind his eyelids was enough to make him come, groaning into his pillow.
As time passed Joel got more confident in expressing his desires. The possibilities were endless and you always looked excited whenever he suggested trying something new.
Like the time your eyes glinted with mischief when he asked if he could edge you the next time. Just the idea of making you beg for a climax made him rock hard. So during your next session he had you tied to his bed, as you were whimpering and pleading for a release, a vibrator in his hand pressed to your puffy clit. Though he caved in quite fast and finished you off with his thick fingers massaging your core, his teasing made you squirt and Joel lapped it all up with the wildest eyes and an aching cock. You returned the favor by drinking him till the last drop after he shoved his cock down your throat keeping you in place with his hands clutching your hair.
He loved experimenting with you, loved being rougher. But more often he craved making love to you, wanted you softly purring under his big body, as his cock was buried deep inside your heat, your pussy fluttering around him. He still couldn’t kiss you but your neck, your breasts, your cheeks were enough for him. Yet he couldn’t deny it— he was down bad for you.
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“What is it, baby?” Joel asked you, pulling away from your neck that he was peppering with open mouth kisses a moment ago.
You were sitting on his lap, wearing a pretty summer dress and his only thought was to tear it off you but when his hands started roaming your body, you jerked and sniffed.
“Nothing. Everything’s ok, Joel,” you replied softly and nuzzled his neck. He knew something was wrong and you were hiding your pretty face. During the time he had known you, he learnt to read your body language and even feel your mood. So Joel stopped his ministrations immediately and kissed the top of your head.
“You can tell me, sweetheart. If you want.”
For a few minutes, he was holding you in his arms, rubbing your forearm with his thumb. Finally you took a deep breath, not raising your head off his shoulder, and opened up.
“I had a session with a new client yesterday. It was horrible.”
As soon as he heard your soft voice, saying that, his insides burned.
“Who? What did he do to you?”
He took your chin between his fingers and tilted your head up to face him.
When he saw tears in your eyes, he immediately wanted to rip that asshole apart. But your expression told him that you needed him to be gentle, to be there with you and he wanted to give you that.
“He was really degrading. Clients want it sometimes but it hadn’t been discussed and the things he said— made me feel like a cheap hooker. He didn’t hurt me though,” you added hastily but Joel saw that he had. Not physically but that fucker had made you really upset.
“I should talk some sense into the asshole. Can you give me his name?”
“No, no,” you were shaking your head, “I can’t. It’s all confidential. I’ll get over it and won’t see him again of course.”
You took a deep breath before mumbling,
“I’m sorry for ruining the mood.”
Then you reached for his belt buckle but Joel’s hand stopped you and he placed your hands between his big palms.
“No, you’re not in the mood. It’s ok. Can we just cuddle?
“But— I will be in a second. I’m professional, Joel.” You shot him almost a fiery glance and pouted your lips.
“Hey, baby, your client here—,” Joel pointed a thumb at himself with raised eyebrows and a sly smile, “wants to role play a big spoon tonight. Can we do that?”
“You’re so kinky”, you said with a giggle and lay down on the bed. In a second he was holding you, his chest pressed to your back, his strong arms embracing you, giving you comfort.
He was semi hard and surely you noticed it. He felt the warmth of your skin through the thin material of your dress and it drove him insane but the way you flinched at his touch, your tears, your shaky voice told him you wanted him to just hold you. For the second time you fell asleep in his arms and he woke you up with a kiss on your soft cheek the next morning.
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Another month passed. As weird as it might have sounded, you became a huge part of his life. He knew every crevice, every curve of your body, knew every hope and dream. He kissed every spot on you, except for your beautiful lips. He tasted them a million times in his imagination but with time it stopped being enough. So he decided to invite you to celebrate his birthday with his family and the closest friends and finally ask you out on a real date.
Joel was nervous when you stepped into his house that day. Tommy raised his eyebrows, surprised to see you there, but fortunately didn’t ask or say anything. You seemed anxious as well at first, but after introducing you to everyone, Joel was happy to notice you chatting with the other guests, giggling with Sarah about something and when his daughter pulled you upstairs to show you her drawings, warmth spread in his chest. He was glad and relieved that you two got along. He wasn’t looking for a mother for his child, he would never ask you to take such a responsibility, but it was important to him that you two could be friends.
Just before dessert you asked him if you could talk privately. Tommy gave Joel a wink, lips twisted in a smirk, when you two headed upstairs, and the older brother just rolled his eyes.
When you stepped into Joel’s bedroom, his cock twitched in his jeans. It was a Pavlovian reflex at this point. He was used to seeing you there naked, your gorgeous body wriggling in his bed, whimpers and moans escaping your mouth.
But Joel told himself to calm down when you came up to him with a serious expression on your pretty face.
“Joel…,” you started and dropped your eyes, fumbling with your fingers.
“Yes, baby?” His heart started pounding in his chest. Always calm and self assured you seemed really nervous and the change scared him. What if you decided to break off whatever weird relationship you two had, what if…
You interrupted his thoughts when you raised your face to him and a little shy smile tugged at your lips.
“I want to give you your birthday present.”
He opened his mouth to say that you hadn’t have to do it, seeing you there was enough but he paused when you inched closer, your big sparkling eyes staring right into his soul. Then your gaze slid down to his lips and Joel seemed to stop breathing. He felt your palms on his forearms and then you slightly pressed your lips to his. They were barely there at first, hesitant, waiting for him to react.
He had been imagining that moment, dreaming of it for so long, so his hands immediately flew to your waist and he pressed his body closer to yours, welcoming your kiss with his whole being.
Joel’s lips started moving against yours, gently and slowly as if he was afraid to scare you away, to ruin the moment. But when he heard you sigh happily against him and your body relaxed into his, Joel wrapped his arms tightly around your torso. He wished that moment to last forever, wanted to never have to let you go.
His tongue brushed your lower lip, asking for permission to breach the last divide between you two, and you graced him by opening your mouth and letting him taste you fully. His tongue was caressing yours while his hands were gliding over your back. Then Joel gently cupped your cheek and tilted his head to give you the best kiss he could. You were so sweet and soft, so warm and lovely on his tongue and he didn’t care that you could probably feel his cock swell against your belly. Your ability to make him hard in seconds was not a secret to the both of you and he bucked his hips against your body with a soft groan.
Joel felt your smile on his lips and playfully squeezed your ass cheeks.
You giggled, your mouth parting from his.
“Happy birthday, Joel,” you whispered, putting your head on his shoulder and nuzzling his neck.
“Thank you for the best birthday present, baby.”
Joel kissed your forehead and you fluttered your eyes shut with a happy smile.
“Sweetheart?” he called.
“Yes.”
“Will you have dinner with me?”
You lifted your head and your eyes locked.
“Like— on a date?”
“Yes.”
Your lips twisted into the widest grin he’d seen on you and you nodded.
“Really?” he asked, making sure that he was really that lucky, “Fuck, I know I’m not a catch. My life is chaotic and I’m a single dad and…”
“Shh,” you placed your finger on his lips and said softly, “I’d love to date you, Joel Miller.”
Joel beamed at you and embraced you in a tight hug.
“I quit escort,” you murmured against his chest and Joel furrowed his brows.
“Is it because of me? Sweetheart, I’d never ask you to quit your job. If you like it I won’t …”
“I don’t. I don’t like it anymore. After that guy I realized I wanna do something else.”
“Ok. Whatever you decide, baby,” he said and then added with a little smile, “I can still pay you though.”
You laughed at him and playfully punched his shoulder. “Shut up, Joel.”
He took your face between his big palms, marveling at your beautiful face, and whispered, “You know how to shut me up, baby.”
You smiled and pressed your lips to his.
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Joel opened his eyes to see the early morning sun peeking through the blinds and your face twisted in pleasure just before his. He soon realized that your wet warm pussy was wrapped around his hard cock and you were slowly grinding against him, lying on your side, face to face, your leg thrown over his waist.
He moaned at the sudden pleasure and you noticed that he was up.
“I’m sorry for waking you up, honey. I just— I wanted you so much I couldn’t stop myself.”
You were breathing heavily and he wrapped his arms around your naked body and began rolling his hips, helping you to reach your high and chasing his.
“Never apologize for this, baby. I woke up in heaven thanks to you.”
You smiled and kissed him while his hand slithered between your slightly sweaty bodies and he slid his thumb between your folds to stroke your hardened clit. He was swallowing your moans and tried to get his own ecstatic growling under control, not wishing to wake up Sarah.
Soon you both exploded in each other’s arms and Joel flooded your pussy with his warm cum while you were writhing and trembling with euphoria against him.
When your climax subsided, you rested your head on his shoulder. He was drawing patterns on your back until you lifted your head to give him one more kiss.
“Sarah wanted pancakes for breakfast. I’m gonna go make some batter,” you said, getting out of bed and putting on your robe.
“I’ll help you. Be up in a minute.”
You smiled at him and bent over to give him a peck on the cheek but he swiftly pulled you back into his embrace, searching for your lips. You giggled and soon melted into his arms, while he was kissing you, passion and love in every stroke of his lips and tongue.
You were his, fully and completely, and all the fears evaporated when he realized that you were the final puzzle piece, missing from his life. He would do anything to make you happy.
“I love you,” Joel whispered against your lips.
“I love you too,” you murmured back.
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Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic, it motivates me to write more stories for you, lovelies!❤️
Masterlist
General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @fruityreads @joelmillerisapunk
If you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know!💕
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xinganhao ¡ 7 days ago
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📺 now watching: "our beloved summer" (wonwoo x reader)
part of my svtflix milestone event. warnings: f!reader, angst. more content under the cut. enjoy watching!
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jeon wonwoo's latest exhibit, ‘our beloved summer’.
ARTIST'S INTRODUCTION. They say, "The more you try to ignore the past, the more you become trapped in it." Inasmuch as I want to believe that might be untrue, there are days where I still feel like the boy from Changwon. This exhibit is my attempt to reckon with that. While the past can be good, can be bad, sometimes all we need is one beloved summer— and, if you're lucky, the residual joy of that time will last you a lifetime. This is that year from me. | © Jeon Wonwoo (2024)
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WHERE DO WE GO WHEN WE YEARN? (2016) Changwon, Gyeongsangnam-do
ARTIST'S NOTE. Yearning— especially that of the high school puppy love variation— can be such a liberating feeling. It exists in the shadows, just enough to sustain you through the tedious days, the long hours. But to bring it to light, to see what that yearning looks like in the morning? How do we survive it? How do we see beyond it?
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HERE, YOU MIGHT STILL LOVE ME (2023) Changwon, Gyeongsangnam-do
ARTIST'S NOTE. You never really know when the last time is going to be the last time. This is the bus stop where the world closed in on me. I can still tell you the plate number of the bus that eventually took you away. 21 경남 1713. I revisited this bus stop and felt like something had been frozen in time. Here, you once loved me. Here, you might still.
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HATE TO SEE YOU GO/LOVE TO WATCH YOU LEAVE (2015) Changwon, Gyeongsangnam-do
ARTIST'S NOTE. You always were several steps ahead of me. You leave me with my hand outstretched, my fingers reaching,— never quite holding. Never keeping. It was that way when we first met. It's that way, even now.
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HOMEBOUND (2020) Changwon, Gyeongsangnam-do
ARTIST'S NOTE. There are no colors in this picture, but I'm sure you can imagine it. The brick red walls. The grey asphalt. The sky— an endless blue, cut with strips of white. When I pass this neighborhood, I think of afternoons; the sun beginning to sink, the scratch of school shoes on the street. We survived another day. We can only hope to walk into the next one.
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THE LAST GOOD THING (2022) Seoul, Gyeonggi-do
ARTIST'S NOTE. A memento. The only thing I could bear to keep. It's been around enough that I sometimes forget it's even there, and maybe that's why it survived my 'purge'. Something so inherently human about us holding on to sweet nothings, even if the only purpose they have left to serve is to remind.
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GOING IN CIRCLES (BACK IN OUR PLACES) (2024) Seoul, Gyeonggi-do
ARTIST'S NOTE. Often, we like to play around with the thought "What would you do if you could turn back time?" If you asked me that some years ago, I might have given a lot of answers about being better, 'changing' things. Now, though, there's only one thing I can think of doing if I were in control of the hands of the clock. I think I would just want to spend one more day, one more minute, with you.
See More Âť
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ABOUT THE PHOTOGRAPHER. Born and raised in Changwon, South Gyeongsang, Jeon Wonwoo (전원우) draws inspiration from the rich art heritage of his hometown. He experiments with different mediums but is best known for his work with film and landscape photography. Wonwoo currently resides in Seoul. You can reach him at [email protected].
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› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao | all photos courtesy of wonwoo (film_jww). :)
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hannieehaee ¡ 8 months ago
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something inspired by espresso by sabrina carpenter (excluding the arresting part ofc 🫡) like svt being obsessed with the reader?
18+ / mdi
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content: simp!vernon, he's down bad tremendously it's actually a little pathetic, afab reader, very obvious references to espresso by sabrina, smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, etc.
wc: 1553
a/n: vernon was the first person to come to mind so i decided to do him hehe hope u enjoy<3
masterlist
vernon was aware of how pathetic he was acting.
it wasn't like everyone around him wasn't liberal in letting him know how borderline desperate his behavior seemed.
he knew through and through how much of a simp he was for you – and being honest, he did not mind it whatsoever.
chasing after you had now become an integral part of his life. catching sight of you at any mutual gathering was one of the things he looked forward the most as of late.
he'd notice the flirty looks you'd throw at him when you caught him staring. he'd groan to himself any time you'd add a suggestive wink just to mess with him. your effect on him awoke a part of himself that none of his exes ever had.
vernon thought of you every night, spending sleepless night after sleepless night with you in mind. sometimes he'd do unseemly things to himself as he remembered your seductive scent (which he had caught a whiff of once in passing and had become addicted to immediately). other times he'd simply imagine what it'd be like to simply get to hold your hand – as everyone else envied him for bagging the prettiest girl in town ...
after a few weeks of pining for you for afar, he finally grew the balls to respond to your provocations (the winks, the looks, the lip bites).
was he nervous? more than he'd ever been. how could he not be when you were staring at him even at this moment? when you were wearing the tiniest skirt known to man – also his favorite – as you made eyes at him? fuck, he felt lightheaded at the mere thought of you taking even the slightest interest in him.
and fuck, did vernon underestimate how much you liked him.
in no universe would vernon have ever imagined for you to grab him by the hand and wordlessly lead him to an empty room the moment he approached you.
much less would he have expected you to push him up against a wall and dig your hands in his hair, moaning into his mouth the moment your lips connected.
he wasn't an idiot, so of course he didn't question why the girl of his dreams was suddenly making out with him in such a thirsty and depraved manner. he simply decided to go along with it, letting you lick his tongue and pull at his hair.
his hands were shy at first, unsure as to what type of touching you'd be okay with. thank god that you took the reigns once more and placed his hands on your ass as a silent encouragement for him to touch you.
you made out for a good ten minutes, contorting yourselves against one another as you sought to leave the other breathless. that was when you decided to drag him away from the wall, walking him backwards into the bed and straddling his lap once he sat down.
"vernon," you mumbled into his lips, now pecking him sensually rather than full-on kissing him.
"hmm?", he was entirely distracted by the feeling of the plush skin of your perfect hips under his hands, hypnotized by the magnetic scent of your perfume.
"this is okay, right?," your lips disconnected, trailing down his neck and towards his ear, "saw you staring at me these past few weeks," you nibbled at his lobe.
"y-yes, of course. fuck, you don't have to ask. you can do whatever you want with me," he practically pleaded.
"oh? anything?", he could feel your smirk against his skin, shuddering at your clear excitement for his words.
"just want you so bad, you- i'm wrapped around your finger. i'll do anything you want," he hesitantly created a gap between your lips and his skin, looking up at you with wide and thoughtless eyes.
there was no response from you, simply a smirk and another connection of your lips as you licked into his mouth once more, this time with even more fervor. mindlessly, he followed your every move, kissing you and feeling you up with as much desperation as you did to him. vernon was willing to follow you anywhere if it meant he'd be on the receiving end of your touch.
lust filled his veins as you had your fun with him, dragging his shirt upwards and throwing it off, doing the same with your own. his hands fondled with your bare breasts, groaning against your lips at the feeling of your warm skin and your pert nipples. he ached to get his mouth on them, but he was too content kissing you to do anything about it.
"wanna ride you, nonnie," you whispered against his lips, getting up and pulling him onto his feet with you. wordlessly, you helped him pull off his pants as his lips trailed down to your neck and chest, breathing heavily against you.
pushing him back down to sit on the edge of the bed, he whimpered at being suddenly deprived of your skin against his lips, but quickly shut himself up when he saw you slip off your panties from underneath your skirt.
you didn't bother to remove your skirt as you sat back down on him, grabbing onto his cock and teasing your cunt with it. he groaned profanities at the feeling, digging his fingers into your hips as he attempted to hold back from fucking into you.
"p-put it in ... please," he pleaded with teary eyes. you had not teased him much, yet he was already desperate for you. putting how pathetic he sounded aside, he continued to beg for you, needing your cunt wrapped around him as much as he needed air.
you sighed at the feeling of his weeping tip against your clit, leading you to a level of desperation similar to that of vernon's (but, of course, not nearly as needy). finally, you lowered yourself onto him, gasping at the stretch and digging your fingers into his shoulder blades.
meanwhile, vernon was in what he could only describe as heaven. the sensation of your warmth embracing him so tightly had him breathless. the sight of your head thrown back as you bounced sensually on top of him made his eyes cross and his hands dig into your plush hips. he could make no noise other than pathetic whined of your name accompanied by endless chants of 'please, please, please' as he begged for you to continue and never stop.
"f-fuck, feel so fucking good ... p-please don't stop, shit. wanted you so bad ... been dreaming a-about – fuck – you every night. cunt's so good ... so pretty a-and soft and warm, fuck, it's so fucking warm," his rambles were never-ending, completely consumed by the feeling of the girl of his dreams finally giving him the time of day.
"tell me more, nonnie," you breathed as you leaned down to kiss him, giving him almost no space to respond, "tell me how – ah! – how much you like me," you encouraged despite being equally lost in pleasure.
"so much. you have no idea. you're so pretty, fuck. please ... please tell me this isn't a one-time thing. i-i'll take it, but, fuck, please," his words faded out as you began rocking your hips more and more aggressively, lips invading his own as he attempted to speak.
you smirked against his lips, ignoring his statement in favor of making him cum as fast as possible, as you were also approaching your high.
"you want me again, baby?" you enticed him with a languid kiss, "if you cum, i'll let you have me again. okay, nonnie? be good and cum with me."
he stared into your eyes, furrowing his eyebrows in what looked like a painful state as he nodded pathetically in affirmation. if you wanted him to cum with you, he'd do it tenfold. anything you wanted, he'd do as long as you even breathed in his direction. he was so horribly desperate for you. now and always.
"c-cumming, oh, fuck, it's so- shit, baby, i need- fuck," he stammered as your high took over, causing your cunt to tighten around him and making him lose his mind as a result.
the harshness with which he dug his nails into your hips couldve easily drawn blood. however, the pathetic cries of pleasure coming from the boy under you had you more distracted. even as your high invaded your senses, your mind was still fully focused on vernon and the desperate mess he'd become.
you played it up for him, moaning and sighing his name in ways you knew he'd remember every lonely night his hand made its way beneath his pants. there was nothing that fed you more than his sheer want for you, so you did everything in your power to amp it up, making your orgasm all the more intense.
he filled you up immensely, leaving you leaking by the end of it all. you panted against him as he held you tightly in his arms, enjoying the calm feeling of your chests pressed together, heavy breaths eventually synchronizing.
"does- does this mean i can get your number?", he mumbled when he recovered his breath.
you giggled, knowing that he'd call you endlessly if you gave him your number. yet the thought excited you far too much to deny him.
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auraworkshop ¡ 1 year ago
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VOID SUCCESS STORY
I Finally Experienced The Void State
HOW I USED TO VIEW VOID BEFORE I ENTERED
Before I entered it, I viewed the void as the ultimate state of oneness with the universe. I viewed it as the place where I could finally be free from all suffering and limitation. It was a place where I could be at peace and experience the ultimate reality. I also viewed it as a place that was beyond anything I could imagine or describe. It was the place I was drawn to and wanted to experience more than anything else in the world. It was where I knew I could find the ultimate truth and the ultimate peace and bliss.
I was never a fond of it, I just and wanted to feel it, experience it by myself. I don't understand why it's so hyped up after all.
HOW I TAPPED IN
I tapped in by listening to my subliminal. Before putting on the sub I did a special, ancient breathing technique :
Bhastrika or the bellows breath
For this you have to Close the right nostril and inhale twenty rapid bellows-like breaths through the left nostril. Repeat with twenty more bellows breaths through the right nostril while keeping the left nostril closed. Proceed to take twenty bellows breaths through both nostrils. This method helps the body and mind to clear out mental, emotional and physical blocks.
After doing this, I put on my subliminal and a blind fold on my eyes and imagined myself walking inside my own mind and it's getting darker and darker as I get deeper into it, exactly like Eleven did in Stranger Things. Okay, so doing this made me super duperr relaxed which got me slept and when I woke up I knew that I made it! and NO, my void was not pitch dark, I don't know but for some reason it was white, pure white. I felt like I'm directly looking into a bulb you know :)
MY EXPERIENCE WITH IT
My void experience was a feeling of emptiness and peace. Not a single thing was there in the void other than my consciousness. I felt completely liberated and at ease when I was in the void. My thoughts were dead silent and I was just being. I felt a deep sense of connection to the universe and a knowing that all is well. It was a feeling of emptiness and unity at the same time. Everything that is, is within me. It can not be described because it is beyond any description. No words and no labels can truly define or grasp the eternal silence of the void. The void I experienced was full of utter peace and stillness. It was the complete lack of self-consciousness and the total realization of eternity. It was pure, uninterrupted consciousness. It was a place of pure awareness and complete freedom from all attachments and desires. It was a place of absolute silence and the absence of all thought and emotion. It was a place of complete and utter bliss and nothingness at the same time. I felt a deep sense of timelessness and immortality. I felt like I was in my purest form. I felt like I was in a state of total nirvana and perfect happiness. It was like being in a state of pure bliss and complete oneness with the universe. I felt connected to everything and everyone, and it was the most pure and peaceful experience I've ever had. However I have entered the void twice but snapped out on incident within seconds. Staying in the void for hours is totally different :)
MY EXPERIENCE WITH THE VOID IS JUST UNDESCRIBABLE 🤍
I really don't know how to put it into words
I just feel COMPLETED now !
WHAT I MANIFESTED
No, I didn't manifest anything in the void. Manifesting something through the void was never my intention because I already have manifested almost everything just by listening to my subliminals and I love listening to them. But if in future if I'll manifest anything in the void, I'll update y'all about it for sure with pictures.
Believe me or not the void is unnecessarily so hyped up in this community, it's so easy to access it. Now with my experience with it I know how I can be helpful to y'all in regards of accessing the void state.
I know people will ask me for the subliminal that I listened to, so first of all I made it myself, because few days back while I was on my journey to entering the void I listened to a subliminal, which made everything worse, I knew that the subliminal maker has used some bad spells in it, so I made my own sub. No wonders tho because earlier I used to make subliminals for myself and they did worked for me and I manifested a lot of things but I was so lazy that I stopped making them :)
But as I really wanted to experience the void within myself, I decided to work a Lil hard and make a sub for myself and after researching deeply on how I can make subliminal work faster, I managed to made it myself.
I have posted it on my YouTube channel but remember my sub will not work for those who have bad intentions! ThankYou.
Here's the video :
Enter the void in the blink of an eye : Use w/ caution
youtube
Make sure to hit the subscribe button because I'll be uploading more such subliminals ! 🤍
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rockingbytheseaside ¡ 7 months ago
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I just read 'a boy named heretic' and it was really great cuz I can see little zandik being obsessed of his favourite researchers. And Imagine after creating his segments, little segments being so obsessed with you that they start their days with reading your researchs or treating your researchs like a religious book maybe even the older segments still do that. they would have memorised everything by now and that would be so funny like little segments make a mistake when they are talking about your researchs and older ones go like 'no no it goes like this and this' I can definitely see that happening.
Thank you for reading my brainrot over your fic and even though i just discovered you I love your writing style and your art is amazing so thank you for blessing us
Thank you so much! I try to write fics and tropes because I also struggle with Harbinger brainrot. Sometimes I draw and sometimes I gotta write. So I hope I won't disappoint with this one (��•́︿•̀。)
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✦ You learn that Dottore taught his little segment about your old research too
(tw: none, pure fluff)
In the days of old, a young boy named Zandik was infatuated by you.
You were there, in the photos of the Akademiya’s best, A brilliant alumna. Meanwhile, he was still a mere student, looking up at you with eager ruby eyes. The distance between you two, not just in seniority, but in intellect and knowledge looked like an insurmountable ocean for little Zandik. 
He read all your published works, theses, or even miscellaneous essays. You were one of the few who dared to explore risque topics, often researching the fallen technology of your homeland, Khaenri’ah. Your works became his mantra, as the young trainee Dastur frequently stayed at night reading and memorizing your written words. 
How he longed to stand by your side. To bask in the glow of your wisdom, and hopefully, one day stand beside you in these photos of The Akademiya’s best. The thought of being your equal on that wall is a fantasy that once consumed him during many sleepless nights. 
But alas, his name was not in the records beside you. Instead, it was in the records of exiled students. 
The expulsion was a bitter pill to swallow for Zandik, yet it became a blessing in disguise. It allowed him to break free from the constraints of the Akademiya and truly delve into the depths of his research; to walk where you walked. With this liberating and newfound freedom, The Fatui heightened his abilities. They provided him with the resources and tools, and in return, he shared the fruits of his labor with them. But the Fatui were not the focus of his pursuits - you were. 
The little boy who once admired you from afar is no more. Now, a Fatui Harbinger stood before you, a man who has grown and shaped himself in your shadow. So here you were, in Dottore’s lab quietly musing. That was the story of your unceremonious reunion with The Doctor, whom you didn’t even know was after you. However, you didn’t mind it. You even met one of his many segments. 
What you didn’t expect is… a little child in his lab. 
A boy, looking awfully similar to little Zandik, no older than 8 years old. He gawked back at you, with his ruby-red eyes and you felt a sense of deja vu. You kneeled in front of him, catching a glimpse of a book in the child’s arms: 
“Um, hello, little one. What is that book you’re reading?”
The child cast his gaze to the floor timidly, revealing the worn-out book he was concealing behind his back. He held it tightly with his little hands, speaking in a small but avid voice:
“It’s your work… Your name is right here!” 
You blinked in surprise. It indeed had your name on it. The title was one of your research papers that you honestly forgot about. But what was even more surprising is why would an 8-year-old child read some old academic papers. 
“Oh, it is? But isn’t it a little… boring or difficult for you to read?” 
“No, I love it! I can even recite it if you want!” 
When Prime Dottore entered and spotted you talking to the eager younger clone he smirked. It seems you finally met his youngest segment, and your bafflement was expected. 
Dottore assured you that his segments, especially the younger Zandik, cannot contain their excitement at the mere mention of your name. They speak of you with a reverence that borders on idolatry, and they often ask Dottore about any copies of your published studies. 
It seems even the segments have inherited his admiration for you.
And the youngest segment, the 8-year-old child? They are absolutely enamored with your work. Every day, they ask about you and patiently anticipate any new information about your next visit to the lab. They even have a small collection of your books on their shelf, reading them diligently and trying to understand the complexity of your ideas. It was a bewildering sight, but the youngest segment enjoyed your academic essays as his bedtime stories.
“Dottore, listen. Did you make this boy memorize my thesis instead of reading fairy tales or something? Isn’t this a little… complicated for a child?” - you asked, picking up the little segment into your arms. 
“Nonsense my dear. Instead of fairy tales and nursery rhymes, a prodigy must start early by instilling a desire for knowledge. You can test it for yourself.” - Dottore explained, turning to the young child - “Recite the passage about energy infusion, paragraph 2.” 
“Okay! Ahem… ‘In the realm of Khaenri'ahn technology, we find a profound example of the interconnectedness between opposites. The use of advanced energy systems combines the power of light and electricity and as according to the data numbers of…”
Oh boy. These are big words for an 8-year-old. You don’t even remember the exact words of your 400-year-old thesis; that thing is ancient! You didn’t have the heart to tell them both that this thesis was written during an all-nighter rush. You did not feel nostalgic remembering your stress over deadlines. 
“Little one?” - You smiled at the boy in your arms and pointed at Dottore “Promise you won’t grow up like this big meanie here. He's annoying” 
“Heehee, okay!” - The tiny Zandik gently hugged your neck. The clone's innocent presence contrasts starkly with Il Dottore's imposing frown. What you failed to notice, however, was the young segment sticking his tongue out at Dottore's jealousy while you hugged the child unawarely. 
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iwanthermidnightz ¡ 1 year ago
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When I was 24 I sat in a backstage dressing room in London, buzzing with anticipation. My backup singers and bandmates gathered around me in a scattered circle.Scissors emerged and I watched in the mirror as my locks of long curly hair fell in piles on the floor. There I was in my plaid button down shirt, grinning sheepishly as my tour mates and friends cheered on my haircut. This simple thing that everyone does. But I had a secret. For me. It was more than a change of hairstyle. When I was 24. I decided to completely reinvent myself.
How does a person reinvent herself, you ask? In any way I could think of. Musically, geographically, aesthetically, behaviorally, motivationally. And I did so joyfully. The curiosity I had felt the first murmurs of while making red had amplified into a pulsing heartbeat of restlessness in my bars. The risks I took when I toyed with pop sounds and sensibilities on red? I wanted to push it further. The sense of freedom I felt when traveling to big bustling cities? I wanted to live in one. The voices that had begun to shame me in new ways for dating like a normal young woman? I wanted to silence them.
You see, in the years preceding this, I had become the target of slut shaming, the intensity and relentlessness of which would be criticized and called out if it happened today. The jokes about my amount of boyfriends. The trivialization of my songwriting as if it were a predatory act of a boy crazy psychopath. The media co-signing of this narrative. I had to make it stop because it was starting to really hurt.
It became clear to me that for me there was no such thing as casual dating, or even having a male friend who you platonically hang out with. If I was seen with him, it was assumed I was sleeping with him. And so I swore off hanging out with guys, dating, flirting, or anything that could be weaponized against me by a culture that claimed to believe in liberating women but consistently treated me with the harsh moral codes of the Victorian era.
Being a consummate optimist, I assumed I could fix this if I simply changed my behavior. I swore off dating and decided to focus only on myself, my music, my growth. And my female friendships. If I only hung out with my female friends, people couldn't sensationalize or sexualize that, right? I would learn later on that people could and people would.
But none of that mattered then because I had a plan and I had a demeanor as trusting as a basket of golden retriever puppies. I had the keys to my own apartment in New York and I had new melodies bursting from my imagination. I had Max Martin and Shellback who were happy to help me explore this new sonic landscape I was enamored with. I had a new friend named Jack Antonoff who had made some cool tracks in his apartment. I had the idea that the album would be called 1989. And we would reference big 80's synths and write sky high choruses. I had sublime, inexplicable faith and I ran right toward it, in high heels and a crop top.
There was so much that I didn't know then, and looking back I see what a good thing that was. This time of my life was marked by right kind of naïveté, a hunger for adventure. And a sense of freedom I hadn't tasted before. It turns out that the cocktail of naïveté, hunger for adventure and freedom can lead to some nasty hangovers, metaphorically speaking. Of course everyone had something to say. But they always will. I learned lessons, paid prices, and tried to… don't say it don't say it. I'm sorry, I have to say it. Shake it off.
I’ll always be so incredibly grateful for how you loved and embraced this album. You, who followed my zig zag creative choices and cheered on my risks and experiments. You, who heard the wink and humor in "blank space" and maybe even empathized with the pain behind the satire. You, who saw the seeds of allyship and advocating for equality in "Welcome to New York". You, who knew that maybe a girl who surrounds herself with female friends in adulthood is making up for a lack of them in childhood (not starting a tyrannical hot girl cult). You, who saw that I reinvent myself for a million reasons, and that one of them is to try my very best to entertain you. You, who have had the grace to allow me the freedom to change.
I was born in 1989. Reinvented for the first time in 2014, and a part of me was reclaimed in 2023 with the re-release of this album I love so dearly.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the magic you would sprinkle on my life for so long. This moment is a reflection of the woods we've wandered through and all this love between us still glowing in the darkest dark.
I present to you, with gratitude and wild wonder, my version of 1989.
It’s been waiting for you.
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natalievoncatte ¡ 3 months ago
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3. Dress
Kara wore dresses. Lena had seen her wearing sundresses and skirts and even a cocktail dress once, and of course she’d worn a dress at the wedding and look very
(Painfully)
pretty
(Gorgeous)
in it.
So it wasn’t as if Lena had never seen her in a dress before. Still, if you asked Lena to picture Kara in her head, Lena would imagine her best friend in khaki pants that hugged her hips and displayed the impressive girth of her thighs, and of course the buns of steel. She would further visualize Kara wearing a plaid button-down tucked into a broad belt that emphasized the inhumanly flat plane or her muscular belly or the broad set of her block shoulders.
(If she didn’t visualize her wearing nothing at all)
Dresses simply didn’t seem to be her thing. She just felt right when she was a little… masc, one might say. Kara had a way about her, a swagger that worked with the belts and a habit of setting her arms with her hands in her hips that emphasized her physique.
Lena sometimes wondered how a pair of glasses had actually fooled her.
For the last eight weeks or so, Lena had been living in Kara’s apartment, sleeping on the couch in a weird state of limbo after she sold her penthouse. They had decided that Lena would soon be moving, but not where or when. Obviously she’d stay close -her life was here now, after all- but she wanted a change.
In a way, Lena was following in Kara’s footsteps, trying to relate to the world as her whole self. She’d come upon the idea of using a sort of checklist- reinventing herself with the same ruthless efficiency she brought to the lab and the boardroom. That was one part of herself that needed to go.
Lena’s whole life was constructed. She did everything she for a purpose, and that purpose no longer meant anything anymore. There was no longer a Lex or a Lillian to outmaneuver, no longer a board to persuade or dominate. She was running the Foundation, but from her laptop, and had hired Sam to handle the financials. She wasn’t even meeting with benefactors; she had people for that. Her main work focus now was a science education program for elementary school girls.
It was so liberating, not having to be the badass boardroom bitch. She’s stopped straightening her hair, abandoned her contacts in favor of chunky glasses, and, in a colossal shock to everyone, Kara included, stopped dyeing her hair black, a habit she’d picked up and kept because it pleased Lillian and kept up because stopping would be annoying.
She had even worn sweatpants. In public. Everyone in her family had been gifting her goofy clothes to wear; she was currently swaddled in a “Why Hex a Little When you Can Hexalotl” t-shirt that Kara had regifted, originally from Nia.
That was when Kara walked out of her bedroom area of the loft and Lena’s brain spun around and smacked against the front of her skull.
Kara was dressed to the nines in a black a-frame halter top mini dress that bared her shoulders and magnificent back, and she’d matched it with dark eye shadow and plum lipstick that was striking against her sun-kissed skin, and a pair of strappy high heels.
“Hey,” she said, sounding glum.
“Where are you off to?” Lena said, trying not to add the mental dressed like that.
“A date,” Kara sighed.
Lena kept her face even, despite the fact that her mind had just ripped in half. She was desperate to know why Kara sounded so glum, and also flat fucking terrified.
The idea of Kara going on a date horrified her. It made her instantly sick with worry -not just for Kara which was honestly a little silly- but because… because…
Lena was suddenly very aware that she didn’t want Kara to date. At all.
(Because she should be dating me)
Which sucked, because Kara was straight, because there was a god and he hated Lena Kieran Luthor and her accursed blood. That had to be why Lena was cursed to suffer a crush on
(be madly in love with)
the perfect girl who came from the sky.
“You look lovely,” said Lena. “Have fun.”
Kara blushed for a moment, then Looked at Lena a little oddly, a little forlorn.
“I’ll text you.”
Okay.
Kara left, and Lena was alone in Kara’s
(their)
loft with just herself and Zillow open on her laptop.
Lena browsed for a while, but none of the places looked right. They were all as if HGTV had puked onto an old house. The minimalism and open concepts reminded her too much of her Old Life. She wanted quirky. She wanted unique. She wanted a place that reflected who Lena really was.
Jesus H Christ, was this a mid life crisis? She wasn’t that old.
Lena was startled out of her reverie when the door swung open and Kara stormed in, slammed it shut, and kicked off her shoes, storming barefoot across the loft.
“Fucking asshole,” said Kara.
Lena blinked, stunned by the profanity, only to be filled with outrage.
“Kara? What happened?”
“This is the last time I let someone at work set me up on a date. I didn’t even want to go, Alex badgered me into it.”
Lena put her computer aside. Kara grabbed a pair of beers from the fridge and popped the lids with her thumbs as she sat down, which was literally one of the hottest things she did on a regular basis. She offered Lena one and took a pull on her own.
“He was a jerk,” said Kara. “I tried asking him whether a hot dog is a sandwich, and he just said ‘who cares’.”
“Kara, a hot dog is a sandwich. We’ve been through this.”
Kara glared at her. “I’m not doing this again, Lena. Not until you admit that a burrito is a sandwich.”
Lena rolled her eyes.
“The last straw was when he told me I shouldn't work out so much. He said my muscles make me look like a man."
Lena blinked. "Where did your coworkers find this jerk?"
"Accounting. He wouldn't shut up about his finance degree. He insisted on paying for everything, too. Oh, and he told me I eat too much! All I did was order some appetizers!"
Lena drained her beer and grabbed another. She listened patiently as Kara vented about this guy and the other various jerks she'd gone one date with.
"I'm doomed, Lena. Every guy is a dick and insecure around me."
At around this time, she finished beer five. Lena nodded.
“Even if I think it’s working I lose the spark. Like when James finally wanted to go out with me and I was just like ‘nah.’”
“James… was nah for me too,” said Lena.
(Honestly, Kara, you should try dating girls.)
“Wait,” said Kara, “What?”
Oh.
She said that one out loud.
Shit.
“Um,” Lena said, lamely panicking, “I um, that was a joke, I meant… well it… worked out for your sister?”
Kara gaped at her.
Lena swallowed hard. “Would you believe it sounded funny in my head?”
“Have you… ever dated girls?” said Kara.
Lena’s stomach almost shot out of her throat. She put her most recent beer down to keep it from sloshing as her hands shook. She looked at Kara, who looked back, expectant… and hopeful?
“Yes,” Lena admitted. “Jack was the only man. I ever dated except James, but there have been women, too. Not that many. Despite my reputation I was never that social.”
“Who?” Kara asked, immediately.
Lena licked her lips. “Andrea.”
Kara stared. “Andrea? Andrea Rojas? Really?”
“It was a teen thing that ended in our eariy twenties, but it was serious. So do you remember how I told you I knew Roulette from boarding school?”
Kara nodded.
“Well, I knew her, um, biblically.”
Kara snorted. “No way. Who else?”
Lena smiled. At least she wasn’t being weird about it.”
“You’re not saying no to trying it yourself,” said Lena.
Kara looked away.
“I…”
She took a drink of beer.
“There are no queer people on Krypton, Lena. There weren’t, I guess I should say.”
The pain in Kara’s voice made Lena shift closer, set aside her drink and curl a hand softly around her arm.
“You don’t have to tell me this if it hurts.”
Kara shook her head. “I… my culture would not allow anything, uh, gay. Or homosexual. Like we literally don’t even have a word for it, it’s so foreign to us. We were taught that the only acceptable pairing was for the best possible offspring. Most of my people didn’t have sex at all, it was all artificial. My aunt and uncle were some who did, they had Clark naturally.”
“So Kryptonians can’t be gay?”
Lena’s heart sank.
“I didn’t think so, but, there was this girl once and she made me feel something I never felt before… and seeing her made all of my other feelings feel different. After I saw her I suddenly felt like I was just going after guys because I was supposed to. Even when I was with Mon-El I had this feeling that… I mean it felt good and I liked being able to cut loose but it felt like…”
Lena waited, not wanting to push her.
“Frankly, it felt like using him as a sex toy. Nothing else in our relationship really felt that deep. Even when he came back and went to Argo with me, I was more happy about my mother seeing me continue our family line than I was about him actually being with me. The second time he left I almost felt relieved.”
“That’s a lot, Kara. I had no idea.”
“I had no idea you liked girls either,” said Kara.
“I really do,” Lena admitted. “Who was she, this girl that stole your heart? High school crush?”
“No,” said Kara. “I met her as Supergirl. The first time I ever saw her, I saved her.”
“Very romantic.”
Kara sighed. “She was the prettiest. She’s so soft, so inviting, and whenever she looks at me I feel like she’s staring right through me, seeing everything in a good way. She’s smart and kind and brave and she has the prettiest blue-green eyes and one of them is a little more blue and the other is a little more green.”
Lena felt the blood drain from her face as her hand shook. Kara smiled wistfully.
“I was always too scared to say anything. I didn’t think she’d ever want me the way I want her.”
Lena looked up and met Kara’s gaze.
“I want more than to not be alone,” said Kara. “I want to be understood. I want to be with someone but I want to be together with someone I can be alone with. Somebody who gets me, who likes what I like, who takes joy in sharing the things we love. Who looks really cute in my clothes. Especially the hexalotl shirt.”
Lena blinked.
“Oh.”
(Oh)
“I like all that stuff but also blondes with big muscles who fly.”
Kara lunged across the couch and had Lena’s arms in her grip, and suddenly was lying on top of her, in that dress. Lena stared up at her.
“I wonder who we know who fits that description,” said Kara.
“I want you to kiss me.”
Kara smirked and leaned down, bringing her lips to Lena’s, and Lena honest to god moaned into her mouth as the kiss deepened, panting with excitement. As if her intentions weren’t obvious, Lena ground herself against Kara, working her thigh between her legs.
“I thought you were straight,” Kara blurted out.
“As spaghetti,” said Lena.
“What?” Kara blinked.
“I’ll explain later. As great as that dress looks on you, darling, it’d look better on the floor.”
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drdemonprince ¡ 9 months ago
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I was never really certain about my transition in the way that most gatekeeping hormone prescribers and curious members of the public demand that a trans person be. I didn’t “always know” that I was not cisgender. I haven’t “always known” anything about myself. Very few truths about me have always remained true, my existence is too interpersonal, contextual, and ever-evolving for all of that. (So is most everyone else’s, I think). I don’t think that the fact I’d eventually choose to exercise my body autonomy at age 30 by taking hormones is a decision I could have foreseen when I was a child. All that I knew about being transgender when I was a kid was a fact that most children intuitively know: gender assignment was a violation of my freedom, of everyone’s freedom in fact, and it was wrong. As an infant and then a child and teenager, people kept imposing labels on me; they kept forcing me and my body into prescribed gendered boxes, and while the specific labels and boxes never really felt like the right ones, the most disturbing part about it all was the forcing. No coerced identity would have ever felt right. Children can tell when secrets are being kept from them, and when adults are restricting their choices. They notice that they and the other children are being lined up boy-girl, boy-girl, without ever being told what a girl or a boy even is. They can see their parents frowning when they reach for the doll with the shimmery hair, or climb atop the neighbor kid on the playground. Kids know that they are forbidden from sitting with their legs spread wide or flicking their wrist, and their gender illegibility is shamed in them, long before they get any answers about what gender means or where it comes from or why it’s so important that they make themselves easy to understand.
Like the cloned children in Never Let Me Go who grow up being conditioned for a life of forced organ donation, children in a cissexist society grow up conditioned to fall within certain gendered boundary lines, and by the time they learn that the reason for this is almost completely arbitrary, they can’t imagine any alternative. Not until some of them hear about gender transition and find the prospect very compelling, for some reason. You can say that reason is because some of us are inherently trans, but there’s absolutely nothing in the way of brain science, genetics research, or even sociological data to back that up. Besides, the search for a biological “reason” that people are transgender or queer runs counter to the goal of queer liberation in the long run. Science only needs to explain the existence of transgender people (or queer people more broadly) if our existence is in some way aberrant or a problem. If queerness is accepted as a form of human diversity that simply exists, then there is no need to excuse it by claiming that it is never a choice. It can be a choice, if a person wants to make it, and hopefully it satisfies them, but maybe it won’t. Freedom to choose means freedom to forever be dissatisfied, to search endlessly for more, and yes, to capable of making a mistake. I would say that viewing myself as transgender was a choice. I decided to break away from the straight, female categories to which I had been assigned, and doing so allowed me to view the legal and societal power structures that had restricted me more clearly. It helped me better understand myself. But that does not mean the actual act of breaking away was always the truest reflection of who I am. The version of me that transitioned was a person on the run — and how a person behaves, thinks, and self-conceives when they are fleeing is not a great reflection of whom they might be if they were safe. If we all lived in a world free from mandatory gender assignment, and where our bodies were not mined for meaning about the kinds of sex we liked, the clothing we should wear, the personality qualities we have, the roles we should play in society, and the connections we are allowed to form with others, who knows who each of us might be. But none of us get to live in that world, or ever gets completely free from the frameworks of heterosexuality and the gender binary. These frameworks shape every legal institution we encounter, every school we attend, every item of clothing we put on, every substance we take into our bodies, every piece of paperwork that ever gets printed about us, and every look another person ever gives us. And so we make due with rewriting and recombining those frameworks as best we can. It should come as no surprise that those us who break away from the binary have to experiment and revise how we understand ourselves quite a bit — sometimes getting things “wrong,” sometimes searching forever for the semblance of something “right.” Sometimes reveling in the “wrongness” of all the available options is kind of the point.
I wrote about my detransition, retransition, and the eternal dissatisfaction that is probably the corest truth of my identity. It's free to read or have narrated to you on my Substack.
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eatmangoesnekkid ¡ 2 months ago
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A large part of woman's work is liberating ourselves from the judgement of being seen- to say the things that aren't supposed to be said, to move, walk, fuck (deepen and open), rest, live, breathe, and speak (make sound) in ways that we weren’t necessarily taught. To be so authentic that it's charming and contagious. Your voice has people who need to hear it. What you see and feel wants to be seen and felt. Allow your own acceptance of who you are be your guiding light. And do what you can do to care for yourself and genuinely care for others. And what you can’t do for whatever reason, feel grace and let it go. No institution can save you, only coming home to your body and connecting to your own soul, imagination, and instincts in meaningful ways can. But coming fully alive in your female tissues is not usury. It is a system of healthy habits and healthy patterns. And a healthy female body is an emotionally intelligent process requiring skillful devotion, ongoing grounding, relaxation, hydration, and strategy. Pick a strategy to align you to your next level. Whatever your strategy is, stick with it until it is time to evolve into a new one and the next level. Stop looking around and trying to notice how people are perceiving you which is putting a band-aid on your self-esteem issues and lack of approval in who you are. Don’t try to behave or act in certain ways in order to get someone to like you because you will never be truly loved and adored that way. No matter what you do in life, falling in love with yourself (your cells) and healing your heart will always be part of the process. Keep all promises you make to yourself. To go after your truest desires will stretch you many times beyond your comfort zone in ways that won’t always be so clear, linear, or straightforward. None of it may be easy, but those who have the greatest abilities and gifts usually will go through the greatest challenges towards getting there. The beauty in the dark is that you will never experience any challenge that you don’t have equal or greater power to master and overcome. If you have healthy human and/or animal community, how beautiful! All fears of being overwhelmed or abandoned by life will be eased. And tapping into spirituality/the divine feminine will help you unlock deeper more mysterious truths about life and other suppressed, repressed, and purifying sensations from the inside out like abundance consciousness. Your body is your best outfit. Anything else is extra. Take care of it. —India Ame'ye, Author
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sweet-as-an-angel ¡ 1 year ago
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Yandere DILF! Reaction to You Having a Boyfriend
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Warnings: Yandere Behaviour, Obsessive Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Age Gap, Suggestive Themes, Stalking, Monitoring, Implied Yandere MILF, Implicit Threats, Implied Blackmail, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.
♡ There is no measure of fury capable of being held or produced by Hell and Earth that can rival that which fires through Dominic’s veins.
♡ At first, he didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it. That his (Y/N) would sever his heart from his chest and run it into the ground.
♡ He thinks – knows – that you’re being held against your will. That’s the only reasonable explanation for this…lapse in judgement, as he sees it.
♡ However, when he watches you from his window leaping into your male friend’s arms, being swung in a display of greatest enthusiasm, Dominic knows he’s being delusional. A rare instance of self-awareness.
♡ Initially, he considers this a curse; the fact that your heart lay in the hands of another. But, the longer he stewed over this development, considered any and every point that would grant him vantage, he began to see it as liberation. A cover beneath which he could operate until he struck from the bushes, his viperous intent strengthening.
♡ He is still amidst the throws of fury, but his wrath is not directed towards you. Rather, that juvenile sack of meat and electricity you donated your time to.
♡ Dominic knows that your ‘boyfriend’ will never love you like he does; that you won’t understand how boys are interested in one thing only. Dominic should know; he’d been a young man once. His psychology was his greatest burden and insight.
♡ He starts taking note of your new, adjusted schedule; the days you reserve for your dates – a long-dead excursion in Dominic’s eyes, not having felt any excitement on a ‘date’ aside from his chance encounters with you.
♡ He follows you, sees which restaurants, cinemas, arcades, shopping centres you enter. And, when the moment is right, when he sees the two of you at the pinnacle of happiness, he acts.
♡ In whatever way he can, he breaks up your dates, saying how it’s “Crazy that you’re here, (Y/N) – what a coincidence,”
♡ When you introduce him to your boyfriend, he flashes a smile only he can see is disingenuous. Grabbing your boyfriend’s hand and shaking it with enough force to give the impression that your boyfriend is weak – boneless – compared to Dominic, the former of the two taken off-balance.
♡ “Better watch your step there, Kid,” he says. There’s grit in the road of his voice, but you’re  piloting an aircraft. Your boyfriend is on a bicycle.
♡ “You’re no use to (Y/N) broken,” he jokes. Something flashes behind his eyes. “Or dead.”
♡ He insists that he drop the two of you home. He knows neither of you drove here.
♡ You can’t say no to your favourite neighbour, who lets you sit in the front seat while he makes your tag-along sit in the back like an animal. An outcast.
♡ Anything to make him look weak. Undesirable. The runt of the proverbial litter.
♡ Dominic drops you home. Tells you he’ll be back soon. And, without asking for directions, begins his embarkation to your boyfriend’s home.
♡ Neither say a word to each other. Seemingly aware of their position in each other’s world.
♡ Pulling up outside your third wheel’s house, Dominic leaves him with only a parting phrase.
♡ “Imagine what else I know about you. What little secrets you’ve been keeping.” He serves a frozen stare in the rearview mirror. “If you leave (Y/N) alone, you’ll never have to find out.”
��� You never saw your boyfriend again after that. Never heard a peep from him over text, never received a call, never even saw him walk down the street.
♡ Of course, you were confused. But more so, you felt uprooted. Forcibly extracted from the life of someone you cared deeply about. Someone who, evidently, didn’t care as much about you.
♡ Eventually, after monitoring you for those first three weeks, those three, long weeks where every inch was laden with shattered glass and stretched on into infinity, Dominic came to you.
♡ Offered you comfort.
♡ He only wished he could have come sooner, but he knew you’d just react with anger. An emotion he couldn’t risk you feeling towards him, even for a second.
♡ And, just as he’d rehearsed a million times, just as he’d lay in bed, sat in his office losing himself to the phantom of your fleeting warmth he’d patchworked together into a blanket from your previous encounters, he came to your door. Knocked. Entered your home. Opened his arms to you.
♡ And the collective euphoria from his every vivid daydream couldn’t compare to the electric joy which made his heart stop. Resuscitated him.
♡ Your head was to his chest before he could encase you in his embrace. He lay his arms upon you, the snake to your Eve, and held you.
♡ “It’s okay, Darling,” he said, his voice low, as if his wife could hear from across the street. Or from the camera she’d implanted into that new vase she’d bought you last week.
♡ You twitched in his arms with every sob. Dominic could feel your tears soaking through his shirt. His now-favourite shirt. One which he’d never wash again.
♡ In his languid daydreams, he’d imagined you thanking him thoroughly for his kindness, his empathy, professing how you’d been so blind to his love before submitting to him entirely.
♡ But, for now, this victory was enough. To have you as close as you’d ever been, your body curled into his chest as he ran a hand through your hair, your warmth leaking into him.
♡ His warmth that he wanted to see leaking out of you.
♡ His lips to your hair, he resisted the tempestuous temptation to take you now. At your most vulnerable, most suggestible. Your most submissive.
♡ To show you that he can please you in ways no mere boy can.
♡ Instead, he took to trying not to inhale your scent, replace one vice with another, to not replenish his memory of you anew.
♡ “I’m here. I’m here.”
♡ His voice is soft, feather-light. It belies all he has done to get to where he is now.
♡ And all he will do to get to where he needs to be.
Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)
Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost
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elder-millennial-of-zion ¡ 8 months ago
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I miss the days, way back when before October 7, when I felt like I was part of leftist circles. I miss feeling energised by leftist slogans because I thought they included me, instead of targeted me.
I miss hearing “eat the rich” and not hearing it as a dog whistle for “kill the Jews.” I miss feeling inspired by phrases like “our struggles for liberation are all connected,” instead of hearing its real meaning, “the Jews are the evil puppet masters behind everything and the world must unite against them.” I miss believing that when leftists talked about punching up at their oppressors, it wasn’t just an excuse to punch down at more vulnerable minorities that they decided were their oppressors despite all evidence to the contrary.
I miss the days when the left poured into the streets to protest cops and corporations instead of protesting Jews. I miss updating myself on those protests so I could join them, instead of to know which areas to avoid because they’ll be Judenrein for the day.
I don’t wish my eyes hadn’t been opened. I’d much rather see the truth no matter how painful and disillusioning it is, because the alternative isn’t actually “bliss.” It’s having a perpetual nagging feeling that something’s off but I can’t put my finger on it, or if I can then I must be overreacting or imagining it’s worse than it is.
But that pain and disillusionment is very real. That loss is very real. It was a community I thought I belonged to, a community I put a lot of work and energy into for many years, and there is grief at the loss of it. Grief that it’s gone, grief that it never was what it claimed to be in the first place. I guess I’m grieving the loss of that part of my identity. And grieving the loss of how people I thought were my friends and allies perceive my identity. Grieving the illusion that they were ever my allies at all, that they ever would be my allies if I needed. Because I haven’t really changed, but the way my former circles look at me completely changed. People who thought I was a good person and a good ally on October 6 decided I was the devil incarnate very literally overnight.
The person who privately reached out to me a few years ago to thank me for a Facebook post I made defending sex workers, because as a former sex worker they appreciated it. Now they’ve been posting antisemitic blood libel, the kind of rhetoric that’s already gotten Jews killed, for six months straight. I tried to tell them how much pain it causes me as a Jew to see their posts, and they only doubled down. It truly is their loss. I was a good friend and a good ally, and they threw me away because I’m a Jew. But it’s totally not because I’m a Jew, it’s because I’m the evil kind of Jew, the kind that just so happens to be the profile of ninety percent of the Jewish population.
I’m grateful I have such a strong sense of Jewish identity, because otherwise the loss of identity in this other way would be far more destabilising. I get why so many people cling to their political identities no matter how much cognitive dissonance they have to wave away; why they insist their ideology is righteous no matter how much evidence to the contrary. Without any other solid identity they would feel too adrift. But that doesn’t excuse their behavior. It’s not ok to jump on a bandwagon to persecute and kill Jews because you want to belong to something that badly, because you can’t handle your sense of self evolving with all the growing pains that come with it.
So many progressive Jews like myself have described ourselves as “politically homeless.” (Specifically in the diaspora; I know the political framework in Israel is completely different.) We can let ourselves sit in that grief. Being homeless is painful and uncomfortable, but it’s better than staying in an abusive home.
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auspicioustidings ¡ 2 months ago
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Kinktober Day 15
Moniker: Velikan Risk Level: Medium. Velikan is a permanent resident of the Kennel. Brief: Restraints, squirting Safeword: Refer to first brief. Velikan doesn’t talk. They’re potentially the deadliest person in the world, but we have never had a problem with them in the Kennel and they were the one that checked themselves in as a resident, so I don’t think you’re in any danger at all from them. Safeword out and I’ll shoot them if they don’t listen - Laswell
So far everyone had been pretty casual, but Velikan was in full gear including a hard mask with an oni pattern on it. You knew immediately that it would be staying on.
They patted a gloved hand on the bed and as you approached they stopped you to relieve you of the robe your were wearing, leaving you naked. You couldn’t see if they were looking at you, but you could feel it, your nipples puckering from what you were sure were eyes on them and your clit throbbing a few seconds later as you imagined their eyes going south.
The sheets felt luxurious enough but a little strange on your skin as you lay down on your back. You wriggled a little to get used to the feeling, trying to pinpoint what was strange about them.
Velikan said nothing, but they took the glass of water from the side table and spilled a few drops on the sheet. They beaded and ran off the side. Waterproof. The sheets felt odd because they were waterproof.
“I don’t know if I can… um… you know…” you mumbled nervously as your ankles and wrists were buckled into cuffs attached to the four corners of the bed.
You automatically tested them, yanking and finding they only had a little give. Velikan just let you lay there for a while, getting used to it. You thought they must be experienced, because if they hadn’t you’d have safeworded from how uncomfortable it felt to be so at their mercy. It made your stomach fizz not being able to move properly, not being able to fight if you had to.
After a while the feeling started to dissipate and instead the powerlessness started to feel sort of liberating in a way. You couldn’t fight this so nobody could blame you for not trying. Once your brain switched to that kind of thinking it was like everything untensed all at once and you melted into the bed.
Velikan only stood and, you presumed, watched until your body relaxed and only then did they approach. They had a clinical touch as their gloved hand ran across your clavicle and down to run their fingertips over one nipple and then the other.
Your body was so primed and tuned in to their touch. You hadn’t realised how much not being able to touch yourself or touch them back would sensitize your body, make all your brain power only focus on what was happening rather than always having to tick over with escape routes or contingencies.
Once they were satisfied that your nipples were at attention for them, they moved down to your belly and spent a great deal of time there, pressing against the fat and tracing swirls into the skin. You’d never really considered the stomach to be an erogenous zone but the press of leather glove was making you squirm and you choked an annoyed noise when you tried to close your legs to get some friction and the restraints stopped you.
It was maddening that you somehow knew they were smirking under that damn mask.
Only when your ankles were chaffed from the constant attempts to get any sort of pressure did they moved down again, fingers swirling around your clit, through your slit and probing inside you just as clinically as they had assessed your nipples.
You couldn’t tell if they were getting any sexual gratification from this because their touch felt like you were a puzzle to figure out more than a body to play with. The leather clad finger inside of you curled and poked and prodded while their other hand pushed down on the outside, testing different spots.
You felt like a science experiment and that was weirdly doing it for you. Fuck, were they all turning you into a sexual deviant or had you been one all along?
There was a spot they hit that made you spasm and had a sharp sound of surprise spilling from you. It was odd, you weren’t sure if it felt amazing or uncomfortable. It seemed to be what they were looking for though because suddenly that finger was jack hammering inside of you at just the right angle and you were straining against the restraints.
“Oh fuck, wait wait wait, something is- I feel-!” you babbled.
This did not feel like the build up you were used to. If anything you felt like that moment just before peeing where you had been desperately holding it all day. They pressed harder and you nearly blacked out at how sudden and sharp the fall was.
The scream that tore through your throat hurt when you came. Not a normal orgasm, not by a long shot. This was explosive, like there were other parts of your insides getting involved that you hadn’t known could. You looked down at yourself horrified because you could hear the splatter of wetness on the sheets, a lot of wetness, as they pulled their finger out and rapidly ran their palm back and forth across your pussy to sustain it for as long as possible.
You were soaked. The sheets were soaked. Fuck had you…? You looked at Velikan whose mask was as impassive as ever and they simply gave you a short nod as if to say ‘good job, now we know it works’.
They took a silk sash from their pocket and made it clear that they were intent on blindfolding you, giving you the chance to protest. You did not. This person was massive and imposing and yet you really had no fear of them at all. It was something in how they treated your body, oddly non-sexual even while you were still reeling from squirting all over the damn bed.
They started the touch again, this time that gloved finger soaked. It was different with the blindfold on, your cunt violently throbbing with every drag of leather against flesh since your brain couldn’t send any warning signals about what was coming.
There was a click this time when they got to your clit and a warm pressure. A tongue. Oh, the blindfold made sense now, they had taken off their mask. You wished you could see the face of this fucking machine because nobody should have a tongue so dexterous. Not even Soap had been able to flick his tongue so fast against you for so long.
When you started to build up again you strained against your hand cuffs, needing to push their head away because you screeching at them wasn’t working. If they kept going like that you were going to squirt all over their face.
Velikan did not let up nor did they pay heed to any of your manic warnings and soon they were content drowning in your squirt, free hand forcing your hips down so they didn’t miss a drop.
You expected the click of their mask and to be undone from your blindfold and restraints. A silly notion really, you should have known better. It wasn’t until a half hour later when you were cumming dry because you had nothing left to give that they relented and by that time it didn’t much matter that they masked up and removed everything because you were pretty sure you were too strung out to actually take in any visual stimulus or move at all.
To your knowledge they hadn’t gotten off. In fact they looked much the same as when you had walked in, not rumpled in the slightest. Before they left you for Kate to clean up, they caressed your cheek, their damp still gloved thumb rubbing against your cheekbone fondly.
“I um… thanks. This was nice. Probably not an everyday thing because I’m pretty sure I’m severely dehydrated but still nice” you said, stupidly proud of yourself for actually being able to talk to someone like a normal person after such an intense session.
You swore you heard something like a chuckle and then they booped your nose and left. Strange character that one, but their brand of fondness left you smiling for the rest of the day.
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atyourmerci ¡ 5 months ago
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Disregard your flesh
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exlover!abby
CW: smut, MDNI, subtop!abby, very angsty, finger sucking, dry humping, tribbing, no y/n, no pdor
A/N: Hi it’s me again. So this is technically a request but I fear I veered off topic diving into the angst but I hope something is better than nothing. Anyways I wrote in this like 2 hours so deal with me while I try to come back from massive writers block.
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You hated her skin, the way she opened her mouth and everyone would listen. The way she moved, seemingly with no purpose. The way her hair framed her face as if they were told to lie there, to dance along your skin. To hate her flesh, how it feels to be amongst your own. To loathe the tone of her voice, commands answered upon an apathetic request. Prey enters a cage for mere survival, to ultimately be slaughtered by something much larger than he.
When she finally called, there were no words, a pained sigh. You imagined her in that moment, choked when it came to admission. Her eyes diverted to the floor, pinching the bridge of her nose. The jingle of metal keys slapping together in her hands…the phone line going flat.
Sometimes words were all you had of her, a promise, a compromise, a threat. An assurance to haunt you, to make it blissful, to chain you to it and let it fester among your mind.
Crawling up to her knees, “do the things you said you’d do to me.” Abby only stared, it felt like she looked right through you. She swipes her thumb across your cheek, the connection burns your skin. The thump of your heart rings in your ears, she mirrors your open mouth, slipping her thumb past your lips. You let it sit there stinging, soaking her flesh with your matter.
She brings the pad of her thumb to her own mouth to remember. Her eyes close like she had been ripped from it, as if she had forgotten the warmth of you. You climb to straddle her, taking your fingers into her mouth. Abby lets herself indulge, wrapping her lips around them, gripping your wrist to drive them further.
You let your lips fall open, she follows like a dog. Placing your open mouth upon her own, still gorged with your fingers, feeling her tongue praise the limb. Her breath is raged, skin melting back into one, as it once was, as it will never be.
Her hips begin to rut up into you, a familiarity she can control, one that will be returned cravenly. Desperate bodies work away at one another, to chase…to grasp what left there was. Hums exchanged between selfish mouths. Gripping the back of her neck to let her get closer, to feel her love in the only way she knew how to express anymore.
She pulls you underneath her to only grow far more depraved. Pulling your leg around her waist to carve deeper into you, grinding her clothed cunt into your own. She wines above your mouth, fingers interlocked with yours at your head.
Her legs begin to shake, driving aimless thrusts into the angle of your open legs. She fervently pleads in the slick crook of your neck, begs to be liberated. She does not ask for approval, as you must, letting herself get off. She lays there panting, letting her heartbeat match the one she cannot understand.
When she pulls herself off, she begins to undress you mindlessly, and then herself. Taking her fingers, she drags a swipe between her folds, and places her fingers back into your mouth. She lets you indulge the taste of her, to remember. Aligning herself back between your legs she lets you rut into her, to get yourself off on her overstimulated cunt. Salvation at the cost of her sanction.
To hate the flesh you crave so desperately, to deliver yourself to haunting.
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burnednotburied ¡ 4 months ago
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Chapter 6: A Dagger In One Hand
AO3 Link | Masterlist
Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader
Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.
Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; mutual pining; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas
Note: I'm really sorry for how long it took for me to write this chapter. Life's been a bitch lately. Keeps kicking me while I'm down, so to speak.
Someone asked about a taglist, so I'm starting one! Please comment if you want to be added :)
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Abby fell asleep surrounded by Scars but woke up alone.
She sat up, blinking away the stubborn remnants of her dreams. Images of her father, alive, and simpler times.
Sunlight shone in from nearby windows, indicating that it was probably already late morning, if not early afternoon, meaning that she’d slept much later than she’d meant to. Much later than she normally would.
But the last couple of days had been anything but normal.
The sound of voices in the hallway brought Abby to her feet and out the door.
Lev and Yara stood just down that hall, arguing, their voices low and insistent.
“Even if you make it, she’s not going to come with you,” Yara said.
“I can convince her.”
“We broke the rules, Lev! That’s all she’ll care about!”
Abby didn’t know who or what they were talking about, and she wasn’t nearly awake enough to begin to decipher it. Behind her, a door opened, across the hall from the room she’d come from.
“Abby?”
Your voice was quiet. Almost surprised. Like you hadn’t expected to see her standing there.
She shivered, as if you’d touched her.
She wished you would touch her.
Jesus. She really needed to get her thoughts in check.
She turned to face you.
You smiled, a stark contrast to the tense words being exchanged just around the corner. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Abby might have just woken up, but she could’ve sworn there was a halo of light surrounding you.
Maybe she was still dreaming.
Her too-recently-conscious eyes could only take in one thing at a time. First, your eyes. She was stuck there for a while. Probably much longer than what was socially acceptable. You had beautiful eyes.
Then, your mouth. Lips still slightly upturned in a warm smile. She wanted to know if you greeted everyone like this. If that smile was a common sight to those around you or if it was just for her. She couldn’t imagine she’d done anything to deserve special treatment from you, but looking at you smiling at her felt like a gift. One that she couldn’t possibly have earned.
It was at that moment that Abby remembered that she was looking at the Seraphite Prophet.
Isaac had warned her about you just over forty-eight hours ago. He’d said that the greatest threat you posed was in your ability to win people over, earning their loyalty even at the cost of their own morals. Their life-long allegiances. Their people. 
She understood now why you had been chosen to be the new Prophet. There was something about you that drew people in – had them letting their guard down – with or without all of the Seraphite brainwashing. 
Hell, Abby met you two days ago and she was already prepared to leave the certainty and security of the Washington Liberation Front to follow you wherever you wanted to go.
There was something magic about you. You must have a similar effect on everybody.
Abby was momentarily relieved, feeling like she’d solved an equation. She wasn’t losing her mind. (At least not any more than anyone else around you was.) This wasn’t her fault. It was yours.
Even as she thought it, it sounded stupid to her. But the only alternative was that these thoughts and feelings were uniquely, inherently her own. And that could only lead to the hope that you might feel the same way about her. 
She finally managed to pull her eyes away from your face and noticed that you were carrying a small, neatly folded pile of clothes. 
“Mel gave these to me,” you said, following her gaze. “She said that they don’t really fit her anymore.” Abby only blinked at you incredulously, not understanding. If she hadn’t just woken up, she would’ve known what you meant. “You know. Because of the–” You trailed off, using your hand to make an arching motion over your own stomach, as if to represent a pregnant belly. “–the baby.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Abby looked away, running a hand absently over her braided hair. “Makes sense. That was… nice of her.”
You nodded, falling quiet as Lev and Yara’s voices grew louder just around the corner, the two of them still arguing.
“I can’t believe she’s on her feet already,” Abby said after a minute.
Your worried look gave way to another small smile. “Yes, well, Yara’s always been tough.” 
There was so much that Abby didn’t know about you. And Yara and Lev. And about your history together. She’d been picking up on bits and pieces of it, especially yesterday with Lev. It had taken some time, but he definitely started opening up to her as they traveled to and from the hospital.
He had even turned things around on Abby and asked what was going on between you and her. And he seemed to find it funny when she got flustered and dodged the question entirely. 
But you had not been such an open book. And Abby wanted to know more. She wanted to know everything. 
She just didn’t know where to start.
“What are they fighting about?” she asked instead. 
“Lev is worried about their mother,” you explained, just loud enough for Abby to hear. “About what’ll happen to her because of them.”
“Should he be worried?” she asked.
“He needs to focus on his own safety right now.” 
“What could happen to her?” If she had to guess based on what she knew about the Seraphites, it couldn’t be good.
You looked away. “Sometimes parents are held responsible for their children’s sins. But their mom is so devout that she’ll probably be fine.”
“Are there options? For helping her?”
You frowned. “Lev wants to go back to the island to get her. But he would never be able to convince her to leave. I’m not even sure that I could, and I’m–”
“The Prophet?” Abby finished.
You moved on without acknowledging that truth. “Yara and I are more worried about what she might do to him.” Before she could think of a response to any of that, you looked back at her, shaking your head like you were shaking those thoughts away. “They’ll work it out. Lev’s not unreasonable.”
“He’s a kid,” she said frankly. “I’m not an expert, but aren’t kids supposed to be hard to reason with, especially when they’re emotional?”
“He’s a Seraphite,” you corrected her. “Seraphites are never really kids.”
Again, Abby felt the urge to ask you to explain, to tell her more about what you meant by that. 
“I could use your help with something–” you said, hesitant, “–if you wouldn’t mind. I would ask Yara, but she’s occupied. And she’s also down one arm.”
“Yeah,” Abby said, sincere and probably far too eager. “Of course. What do you need?”
You smiled gratefully and gestured for her to go back into the room where you had all slept. She followed without question, shutting the door behind her. 
“It’s kind of embarrassing.” The look on your face told her that you wouldn’t be asking if you didn’t have to. “It’s this dress,” you said. “It isn’t meant for me to be able to take it off myself. One or two of my attendants would always have to help.” And then you turned, just enough to draw Abby’s attention to the back of the dress, where there was an admittedly overly complicated looking corset thing going on. It looked cool, but yeah, she could see how it would be difficult, if not impossible, for you to undo it by yourself.
“They might as well have sewn me into it,” you added, doing your best to look at it over your shoulder. Then you turned back to face her. 
She took a beat before she found her voice. “You have attendants? Like maids?”
You shot her an exasperated look. “I had attendants. But they are on the island and I am here, and it’d be really great if someone would help me get out of this thing once and for all.”
“Yeah yeah, I got it,” Abby said, smiling now. “Turn back around.”
You sighed but did as you were told, tossing the pile of clean clothes on the couch for the sole purpose of being able to cross your arms over your chest. Abby chuckled, surprised but amused by your sudden attitude. 
She stepped up behind you, taking a closer look at the fabric contraption that had you trapped in this dress. It suddenly occurred to her that, in order to help you with this problem, she would have to get very close to you… And that she’d have to touch you… And that this would inevitably end with you taking off your clothes. Hell, she was (technically speaking) the one who would be undressing you.
She cleared her throat and tried – not for the first time that day and probably not for the last – to get her thoughts under control. You weren’t coming on to her. You just needed help. You probably would’ve been just as likely to ask Mel to do this. 
Abby shifted on her feet behind you, lifting her hands to start what was sure to be a very long untangling process, but she paused before actually touching the fabric that hugged your back. “Can I…?” she asked. It felt important to have your permission before she touched you. 
“Hmm?” you hummed, glancing over your shoulder before you realized what she meant. “Oh. Yes. Please.”
A thrill shot through her at the sound of you responding to her request to touch you with please.
God, there had to be something wrong with her.
No one – genuinely not one single other person in her whole life – had ever had this effect on her. 
She got to work on the dress, trying to convince her stupid, horny mind that the ribbons and fabrics beneath her fingers were not, in fact, attached to your body. She was unsuccessful.
“Jesus, they really did not want you getting out of this thing,” she huffed. “What? Was trapping you in your clothes their way of keeping you chaste?”
Since when did she say shit like chaste? It did sound like some bullshit the Seraphites would do though.
To her surprise, you laughed. “I think the idea was more likely to keep me dependent on others. Trapped both physically and mentally, you know? … It’s a dress, Abby. You don’t exactly have to take it off to have sex.”
Abby’s fingers stilled, her eyes went wide, and her face warmed. And she was glad you were facing the other way so you didn’t see any of it.
She changed the subject before she did anything stupid, like ask you literally anything else about that subject. “So… have you always worn this dress?”
It was a stupid question, but it’s the first thing she could come up with under these conditions.
“This exact dress, no,” you said. She could tell from your voice that you were smiling, and she couldn’t be sure but she thought you might be teasing her. “But some version of it, yes. Since the day I turned twelve. New ones were made for me as I grew and if they tore or got dirty, but it was always something like this.” You paused for a few seconds before going on. “It’s strange. I haven’t worn pants in eight years. I’m kind of excited.”
Abby couldn’t imagine being excited to wear Mel’s hand-me-down pants. But she also hadn’t been forced to wear the same virtually inescapable dress for nearly a decade. The thought alone made her chest feel tight. 
She had made a small amount of progress with the dress, but not as much as she would have wanted, and she was getting frustrated with the whole thing. She yanked on something that she thought would loosen it, but ended up making it much tighter. You let out a sharp hiss.
“Sorry,” Abby said quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do tha–”
“Do you want to just cut it off of me?” you asked, spinning around to face her again, clearly even more eager and annoyed than she was. 
“Umm.” Abby thought her brain might be shutting down entirely. “Yeah. I can do that. If you’re sure you’re not gonna want to wear it again.”
“I’m not going to want to wear it again,” you confirmed.
Neither of you had taken a step back when you turned around, which left very little space between you. Something that Abby was painfully aware of.
“Okay,” she said, voice low. “Then I guess I’m cutting you out of the dress.” But she didn’t move from where she stood, just a breath away from you.
You were the first to move, walking over to where you had all dropped your stuff yesterday and returning with your dagger. 
“Here.” Face unreadable, you offered the deadly blade to Abby handle-first. She took it as you spun back around.
She gripped the dagger’s hilt in her hand tightly. The trust that you must’ve had in her, to hand over your weapon and willingly turn your back to her… It made her feel brave.
Or maybe she had bravery and stupidity mixed up.
Abby began carefully cutting through the same ribbons that she’d previously been attempting to untie.
“Are there rules,” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant, “about abstaining from sex? I’ve read about a few Old World religions that were strict about that.” 
You were entirely unfazed by the question. “Seraphites have rules for everything. Some of them always made sense to me. But most of them are ridiculous. Meant only to ensure that our Elders are able to maintain complete control.” 
The top of the dress loosened and began to sag as Abby continued to slice through the offending constraints, until it was only held up by the straps. She had done enough for you to be able to easily get out of it. If you were to let those straps fall from your shoulders, the whole thing would fall to the floor, gathering at your feet. 
She looked away from the smooth expanse of skin in front of her and tried to force that image out of her mind. 
“Should be able to get it off now,” she said, deciding that it would actually be better for her to take several steps away. 
An earnest ‘thank you’ came from your lips as you grabbed the new clothes from the couch. You didn’t ask her to turn around, but she did anyway. And she was decidedly not thinking about what was going on behind her.
“To answer your question from before,” you began as you got dressed. “Yes, there are rules about that, but they’re wildly unimaginative. We are not permitted to be alone with someone of the opposite sex – outside of our family members – until a spouse is chosen for us. At which point, that person becomes a family member. So technically, we’re never allowed to be alone with someone of the opposite sex.”
“That sucks,” she threw out, not knowing what else to say as she stared at a random stain on the wall and forced herself to wonder how it might’ve gotten there.
“Probably. For most people. But I never really had a problem with it.” Your voice was much closer now, just behind her.
“Why not?” Abby’s question of if it was safe to turn around yet was answered with the light touch of your fingers against her wrist, trailing down to meet the dagger still grasped in her palm. She relinquished the knife to you, letting her hand linger against yours as she turned to face you, taking it all in.
You were, indeed, wearing pants. And also a shirt. And they both fit you pretty well.
And you were beautiful. There was always that.
You passed the dagger from your right hand to your left, and the look of determination on your face was nearly the same as it was moments after she first saw you. When Abby was hanging by her throat and you were going to kill her. Only this time the feeling coursing through her body wasn’t fear. It was anticipation. 
Whatever you were planning to do next, she wanted it. 
“Why not?” Abby had asked a minute ago.
“Because I’ve never had any interest in the opposite sex,” you answered as your right hand found its place against her jaw.
Time slowed as you stood there for a moment, holding a dagger in one hand and Abby’s face in the other. 
She thought you might kiss her. She was hoping you’d kiss her.
And then the door flung open and your hand fell to your side.
Yara was crying or yelling or both, and it took Abby way too long to process the words she was saying.
“Lev’s gone! He took a boat! He’s going back to the island!”
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Note: This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but it felt good to end it here for now. Also, I want you to know that I'm dedicated to finishing this fic, and I know exactly where I want to go with it, so expect more updates soon!
Taglist: @h0meb0dyi @lmaoo-spiderman @quinnsadilla @rew1nds @sapphicontherun
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sunnysanae ¡ 2 years ago
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their favourite kind of affection
scenario. the genshin boys and their favourite type of pda. includes. zhongli, ayato, cyno, tighnari, scaramouche, childe, thoma settings. fluff, modern!au, gn! reader
zhongli waist cupping
the ex-archon found peace of mind in wrapping his large, gloved hands around your hip. his slim fingers liberally draping off your hip bone, occasionally stressing to cusp the tender skin of your abdomen. you often wandered off in public, ending up lost and teary-eyed, his hand was there to prevent that. zhongli wanted to guide you to the places he's always promised he'll take you to, while showing everyone you were his.
ayato arm in arm
ayato enjoyed taking you on short promenades, to festive gatherings, and on cute picnic dates. having you interlink your arms with his elbows, feeling you lean on his bicep, embracing him; as the two of you paddle elbowing each other to your desired destination. the exchange of smiles and blossomed laughter enveloping the centimetres of distance between you. having you close in proximity assured his heart, knowing you'll be by his side, arm-in-arm, no matter what.
cyno neck nestling
burying himself in the warm cove of your neck, nuzzling his nose on the delicate, sensitive flesh of your nape. as his ears drooped down, their ends tickling your shoulders. humming casually, as his canine teeth occasionally grazed your collarbone. the adorable gesture emerged on lazy sunday mornings, as you leaned into the work on your desk, and as you stood over the stovetop cooking your favourite foods. cyno found safety and comfort in the home you shared, more so in you.
tighnari kisses
he was never planning on admitting to this. tighnari basked in the feathery, delicate kisses you peppered on his nose. plump, soft lips pressing gently-firm on his flaming skin. the sensation torched him. the careful fragility of your affectionate initiative was fully appreciated by the boy, as he negligently leaned into your caress. tingling and numbing to his nerves. work could wait just a little longer.
scaramouche handholding
on movie nights the two of you laid overlapping each other on the cosy couch, on chilly days as you sat together watching the first snowflakes swindle—cold fragile fingers tangled upon each other, while warmth spread from your palms to his. the pads of your digits tenderly rubbing against each other's knuckles and joints. kunikuzushi would obscure his hazy blush with his scarf, or plummet his heated face into the plush pillows. your loving touch was all he ever wanted and all he ever needed.
childe resting on your lap
sitting on the birchwood park bench, as he whimpered about being exhausted from the countable steps you took. unwillingly compromising to his coquettish behaviour, as he dragged you to the free seat on the grass. minutes passed, as he would adjust his body to rest his head in your lap. childe's eyes latched with an obliviously complacent smile. he just wanted to feel your fingers brush through his hair one more time.
thoma hugs
as you sat on his lap while he knitted, he loved being enveloped by your scent and touch. his arms riddling through yours, pressing his chin into your nuchal region. you didn't want to leave him alone during his late housekeeping hours, which explains how you ended up in this position, in front of the charring fireplace. thoma murmured in your ear sweet, calming stories, and he felt you drift off into dreamland on his shoulder. as your breathing became melodically steady, climbing and rolling down gentle hills of sleep, he wrapped you in a secure cuddle. his lips sweeping your ears.
an. hmm thinking maybe i'll write a version of this for my genshin girls as well 🤐. also, can any of you imagine kissing tighnari's ears???!?KLDSM<A. i am having a sweet tooth for fluff, apologies if it has overwhelmed anyone.
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