#sure is a shame to have to imagine the lights flickering back on and Pac nearly tripping over a lifeless body

[54625]

He was too gay for this homophobic world

[spiritualitygeek]

PAC: Their Sexual Fantasies About You (Fs channeled reading)

Disclaimer: This content is intended for adults aged 18 and over. Minors are strictly advised not to engage. This reading is for entertainment purposes only and should not be used as the basis for any major life decisions, particularly regarding health, finances, or legal matters. Viewer discretion is strongly advised.

1->2

3->4

5->6

Pile 1

Your future spouse is deeply sensual, the kind of lover who worships through touch. Their love language is physical, and they crave intimacy in the slowest, most tantalizing ways—drawing out every sensation, every breath, until you’re trembling under them.

They have a vivid imagination, and one of their favorite fantasies involves you, them, and a hot, steamy shower. They picture dim lighting, scented candles flickering, the air thick with heat as water cascades down your bodies. They imagine pressing you against the cold tile, the contrast against your warm, flushed skin sending a shiver through you. Their hands would be everywhere, lathering soap over your curves, massaging, exploring—taking their time to savor the feeling of your body beneath their touch.

They want to watch the way the water clings to your skin, how droplets race down your neck, your shoulders, your back. They fantasize about kneeling before you, kissing and biting their way up your thighs, their tongue tracing the path of the water. Or maybe they imagine pulling you into the bathtub instead, submerging you both in warmth, your bodies tangled together, slick with heat and desire.

But it doesn’t end there. No, in their mind, it always leads to something deeper, something raw. They picture you bent over beneath the rushing water, your back arched as they grip your hips, taking you in slow, deep thrusts that drive you insane. The sound of water splashing, heavy breaths mingling with the steam, the way your fingers claw at the fogged-up glass—every detail is burned into their thoughts.

For them, it’s not just about sex. It’s about immersion, about touch, about feeling every inch of you and making sure you feel every inch of them. They want to consume you, to make you melt under their hands, to hear your breath hitch as they claim you again and again—until the water runs cold and you’re both too exhausted to move.

Pile 2

Your future spouse sees sex as something deeply spiritual—an act of pure, soul-deep connection. They don’t just crave physical intimacy; they long to merge with you in a way that transcends the body, where every touch, every breath, every movement pulls you both into something sacred, something beyond the limits of flesh. They’ve already had you in every way imaginable—in their mind, in their fantasies, in the realm where energy speaks louder than words. If you've ever woken up from a heated dream, your body aching for someone whose face you can't quite remember, that was them, reaching for you across the unseen.

They're shy, reserved in the real world, not the type to sleep around or waste themselves on meaningless encounters. Sex, to them, isn't just pleasure—it's devotion, it's surrender, it's a universe unfolding between two souls meant for each other. Maybe they’ve been with others before, maybe they tried, but it never touched them the way it was supposed to. It was empty, disappointing, just flesh meeting flesh with nothing deeper beneath it. That’s why they stopped, why they decided to wait, to keep themselves for something real. For you.

But don’t mistake their restraint for innocence. They’re intensely sexual, their desire coiled tight, waiting to be unraveled by you. They might not have let themselves fully indulge before, but when they do—when it’s with you—they won’t hold back. They'll give you everything, let you break them apart and put them back together, let you push them to limits they didn’t know existed. There will be no shame, no hesitation—just raw, soul-consuming passion.

Maybe this is a twin flame connection, something written in the stars long before you even met in this life. They already feel you in their energy, in their dreams, in the silent moments where desire turns into longing. And when you finally come together in the flesh, it won’t just be sex—it’ll be a fucking revelation.

Pile 3

Your future spouse has a filthy mind—there’s no other way to put it. They’re into role-play, but not the tame kind. No, they love pushing boundaries, testing limits, watching the way your face shifts between shock and curiosity when they whisper their dirtiest thoughts in your ear. They’re the type to drop a fantasy so unfiltered, so downright filthy, that you'd pause mid-movement just to process if you heard them right. And they’ll revel in that moment, in the way your breath hitches, in the way your body betrays your innocence, betrays how much you want to hear more.

They've been a player for most of their life—cocky, experienced, and damn good at what they do. Not just because they’ve had practice, but because they know how to read a woman’s body like a language only they can translate. And with you? You’re their masterpiece. They love that you’re soft, untouched in ways that matter. It makes it all the more thrilling to corrupt you, to drag you into the depths of their desire and show you just how much you can take. Maybe they never thought of themselves as having a corruption kink before, but with you? With the way you shiver under their touch, the way you hesitate yet secretly crave everything they offer—they can’t get enough.

And they have one particular fantasy that won’t leave their mind: recording you. Not just for the act itself, but for the aftermath. For the teasing. For the way you’d turn red when they play it back, when they make you watch yourself unravel, your voice desperate, your body wrecked from the way they take you—hard, fast, relentless. You, who looks so innocent, so untouched, but when they have you? When they ruin you? You beg for more, again and again. And nothing turns them on more than knowing they’re the only one who gets to see you like that.

Pile 4

Your future spouse has a deep-seated desire for validation, stemming from unresolved Mommy/Daddy issues that they want to explore in the most intimate ways. They are drawn to the idea of submission, of kneeling at your feet—not out of weakness, but out of a need to worship and adore you. In their fantasies, they’re not just a lover—they’re completely surrendered to you, craving every bit of your power and control.

They get off on being claimed, on feeling as though you own them, body and soul. This goes beyond mere submission—it’s about giving you total dominion over them. They want you to take charge, to dominate them in ways that leave them breathless and wanting more. The thought of you being possessive, even a little toxic, thrills them—it stirs something deep inside them, something raw and primal. They want to feel like they are your property, your plaything, and they’ll do anything to make you feel in control.

Their kink for degradation comes alive when you punish them for their disobedience. They’ll test your limits, push your buttons, and look for ways to provoke you—just to see how far you’ll go. They want to see you angry, demanding, asserting your authority over them. And when you punish them, when you make them kneel and beg for your forgiveness, that’s when they truly feel seen, truly feel alive. It’s a heady mix of pain and pleasure, where each punishment brings them closer to the ecstasy of submission.

And then there’s the element of possession. They love the feeling of being owned, of having you claim them in ways that leave no doubt about who’s in charge. They don’t just want to be your lover—they want to belong to you completely, to feel your mark on them, to know that no one else will ever have them the way you do. The idea of you stepping on them, of taking them to their limits and beyond, excites them in ways they can’t even fully explain. They want to be taken, molded, shaped by you into whatever you desire, and they’ll gladly fall to their knees—physically, emotionally, spiritually—to prove their devotion.

Pile 5

Your future spouse has a taste for the unconventional, likely stemming from their exposure to erotic content that has shaped their sexual fantasies and desires. They don't just want to experience sex—they want to explore it in all its forms, including the thrill of multiple partners. This might involve both men and women, a dynamic where you’re not just with them, but also with others. It excites them to think about having you with someone else, to share you, to see you pleasure and be pleasured by someone else, while they do the same with another partner.

They fantasize about a foursome, an experience where the two of you are deeply immersed in a shared sexual encounter with others—whether it's watching you with someone else while they're engaged with someone else, or the two of you getting intertwined with others in a mix of bodies, moans, and pleasure. For them, it’s about pushing boundaries, about the heat of watching and being watched. They want to see you with others, to witness the way you move, the way you moan and respond to someone else’s touch, all while they’re lost in someone else’s body. It's a heady, erotic experience—orgasms building in waves as you all share the same space, bodies colliding in sync.

But here's the key—they are not about pushing you into anything you’re uncomfortable with. They’re fully aware of boundaries and are respectful of your desires. If you're into it, they'll embrace that side of themselves and be ecstatic to share that kind of sexual experience with you. If you're not into it, they won’t pressure you—they understand that everyone has different needs and desires, and they won't cross a line you’re not willing to go past. Ultimately, their fantasy revolves around the idea of sexual freedom and exploration, but always with mutual consent and respect.

Pile 6

Your future spouse is the ultimate exhibitionist, someone who thrives on the thrill of being watched, especially when it involves showing you off. They love the idea of making you theirs in the most public, daring, and provocative ways. It's not just about getting off—they want to see how you respond when the stakes are high, when there’s a risk of being caught, of others seeing your intimate connection. They’re addicted to the power dynamic that comes with being bold and brazen in public spaces, and they can’t wait to put that into practice with you.

One of their wildest fantasies is fucking you naked against the glass windows of your master bedroom, letting the world outside see how much they desire you, how passionately they can claim you. They fantasize about bending you over the balcony, the cool night air brushing against your heated skin, while they pound into you from behind. It’s not just sex—it’s a display, a way to show off just how sexy and dominant your connection is, how they can make you come undone in ways no one else could ever imagine.

They aren’t just limited to the privacy of your home. This extends to public places, like a secluded spot at the beach, where they can take you from behind, the waves crashing against the shore, your bodies moving together under the cover of the rocks, but still within reach of anyone who might happen to pass by. They love the danger, the excitement of possibly being caught, of teasing the world with the idea of what’s happening just out of sight.

They're the type to sneak off to the restroom during a packed party or club, pulling you into a stall for a quickie, not caring in the slightest that someone could walk in on you. The thought of being interrupted, of someone hearing the sounds of your bodies together, makes them harder, faster, hungrier. They crave the audacity of it all, of fucking you in a dark movie theater, with people sitting just a few feet away, completely unaware of the wild, dirty act unfolding between the two of you.

It was my first time channeling sexual messages. I hope I did it justice and it resonated.

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- Love, Snow <3

[hennythejetsmith]

Window Part One

Water raced down the glass as the storm ensued. I likened the drops to stars as I peered through the window toward the sky. A reflection of heaven in the form of her tears as I created my own constellations. This four-sided room repelled summer’s petrichor; it was the first rain of the season. The rain drummed ever so slightly on the pane as if it waited for Miles Davis’ trumpet to accompany the lulling rhythm; where were the aristocrats & lovers of jazz to slow dance the night away. Ironically, Jim Hall’s Concierto De Aranjuez played on in the background & I cherished the lasting memory of her I had; a lone orchid catty-corner the looking glass aka my escape. A crack of the window was okay for fresh air every so often, but I preferred her fragrance, he flower that is. As if it were the rose & I were the beast, the glow mustn’t ever die out, even as she went on to love another. I still love her y’know? Of course, I’d never muster the strength to mutter out a single indication of such for wallowing in this unrequited torment truly is a pastime of mine.

 The lavender futon held many a soul captive that fell victim to its underappreciated comfort. Through a torrential downpour, you could see a young man, maybe in his early 20s, rise into view & disappear into what looked like a college kid’s dorm or contemporary minimalist coffee shop. From ground level, you could vaguely see strung up lightbulbs, thumbtacked polaroid photos, & what looked like an unfinished canvas. The neighbors knew little of this “millennial,” though he subscribed to ideal of unsubscribing to labels. Placing citizens in categories based on their birthyear may work for some on a literal level, but the soul itself, transcends the confines of any linear time period. A quick gander outside & he turned his back as he vanished from eyesight of any bystander. A quiet little suburban area is where he’d come home to rest at night. He never really uttered much but a “hello, how are you?” to those that lived aside him. If you were quiet enough, the keys of a piano would faintly soothe the mind & relieve you of the bustle of real life between the drywall that separated the humble town home from the others.

 “My hair is a mess,” a quiet thought to myself staring at the looking glass. The bronze & gold finish around the mirror is a bit tacky; I could’ve done without this.

           He shrugged his shoulders in complacency & carried on.

Vivacious, just as it was when she first brought you in here, my love. Just like her, beauty unparallel. I imagine right now, she has nestled up under her sill as her rosy lips are kissed ever so gently by summer’s breeze. How am I to compete as nature nurtures her very being? A love affair where I quietly, yet graciously, am on the outside as the third wheel.

           His mind rarely took the time to be sit by itself, even as he did externally. The image of she & he had internally been etched onto his consciousness’s wallpaper.

The inkwell seems to be refilling, where have my pen & notebook ran off to? They too, in some sort of flirtatious dalliance & I am nothing but the conduit for their interaction; not that it bothers me.

           He reached for a string to lower the shutters in his room. A sense of intimacy was needed that the world could not witness, according to him at least. The surrounding periwinkle paint provided a calm as a neon “Good Vibes” shone light juxtaposed the outer gloomy sky blocking out the moon. The clean-cut young adult reached to the right of his futon alongside the right wall of his room & grabbed a green notebook. “CVS” adorned on the bottom right of the pad really did not mean much alone but intertwined with the midnight trips for juice & snacks, his heart would skip a beat as his eyes skirted across the cover. It truly was the simple things that would get him. He really loved her. He flipped open to a random page with a ball point pen resting on the coiled bounds of the book. One last stare at the orchid that rest in the corner of his room & his lids covered his eyes. Reaching for his pen, he seemed to be in some sort of trance, becoming a body chattel for some higher being as words begun to scribble across the college-ruled paper.

 Your silence is deafening.

Am I to be at fault

For knowing not that to gift you with my heart

Would leave me in joyous ruin?

 An endless current; yet presentably stoic. No one shall ever know of the affinity I have for you still. Deceit is my greatest weapon & these pages remain privy to myself only. Short & sweet this time I see; reminiscent to the inevitable beginning & end of our fiery passion.

                              _______________________________________________

   Coins clink together, sirens ring non-stop, lights flicker on & off like some rave, but all I see is her flowing cinnamon hair & feel the soft touch of her hand. She told me she had always wanted to play Ms. Pac-Man in a genuine arcade, but never had the chance. I cannot seem to remember her name, but the crescent inked on the back of her neck, Luna could be a moniker until my memory decides to refresh itself. I have doomed myself to be labeled some male chauvinist pig objectifying her for the night. Fuck, I must think of somethi-

           “Hey, so are you ready to lose?”

           “I really do not think you know what you are getting yourself into Luna. Sorry, I saw the tattoo on the back of your neck & couldn’t help it. I hope you do not take offense.”

           “Oh, no. It’s okay.” Whew, dodged one bullet, now to remem-

           “My name, by the way, is Ana. That was your last chance to forget.”

Despite the fluorescent bulbs incessant flashing, my eyes are fixated on you Ana. Subtle, yet sent straight to my spine; forget your name, never again will I.

           “How did you know?”

As Ana chuckles, she responds,

           “Because you just told me.” She laughs again & proceeds past the row to what seems to be an endless amount of ski ball tables. With all the calamity surrounding us, all I could hear was the sound of her voice. Softly fluttering atop my ear drums akin to the late great Amy Winehouse.

           “Really a shame what has to happen here. You sure you don’t want to hop in the Jurassic Park game? That’ll be fairer considering I haven’t played that since my Chuck E. Cheese days.” No response as we traverse the litter of children & adolescence. I can hear the chains rattling from the basketball games in the corner; I watch the tickets fall out of the Whack-A-Mole; I wonder how many tries before that bonus tickets slot is hit on that one game all the kids want to play. 500 tickets for the bonus is pretty good, I’m sure someone will be lucky enough.

 There was no line for the Ms. Pac-Man placed in the back corner. Most kids were more concerned not with the classics but winning the prizes behind the counter. Playstation 4s & the new Xboxes were for the top ticket getters alongside the motor scooter that seemed to have been collecting dust for quite some time. It was a bit smoky in Kat’s 24-hour arcade. Marijuana smoke was a lot less bothersome to her than tobacco though. Whenever she smelt a hint of cigarette, the lights came on & the games shut down until the culprit was found & removed hastily. Some nights, she closed early because no one wanted to come forward. She made sure the kids were out by 9 o’clock pm, some snuck around after, because she knew that grown folks too, loved to play video games to escape the endless cycles that left so many of her regulars entrapped. Their cynicism & vitriol toward their very own lives brought tears to her eyes every so often. So, she decided to invest in giving others a chance to relive their childhoods. Kat always sat in the back on her wooden stool next to the NBA JAM, her favorite. You wouldn’t know that she was a huge Orlando magic fan living up north in the Big Apple. Always a chip on her shoulder from the “what if” with Shaq & Penny. Tonight, was no different; she was sitting in the back, watching highlights from their golden era as a couple zoomed right by headed straight for Ms. Pac-Man. For a second, she was distracted due to how young they looked.

           “Hmph, at least some of these ‘millennials’ know a little bit about nothing,” she thought to herself as she refocused back to “The Youtube.”

 I really underestimated her. All I hear is waka-waka-waka-waka; all I see are intermissions & level design changes; & I feel that I am about to lose! Maintaining composure is key, but she has not lost a single life & now a random assortment of fruits is dispersing through maze openings like an opened pack of Runts. She has absolute control of the screen & it’s as if she flows effortlessly with the ghosts; she is one with Ms. Pac-Man.

           “It’s your turn. You don’t have to be astonished anymore. I tried to warn you, but you didn’t want to listen. Sol.”

She slid to the side as it was my turn. No way that I take an early loss. She’s at about 43,000 already before my first go around.

           “Sol?”

           “Well, it would only be right to call you Sol, considering you named me Luna. Or are you unaware of the moon’s opposite Shawn?”

           “I mean, it seems you haven’t forgotten my name.”

           “It would be rude to do so. We all can’t be you, now can we?”

Is she being serious? Or is this a sarcastic barrage to distract me fro-well that is the end of my turn.

           “Well played. Ana.”

She smiled in a snark manner. Who are you & what is this fluttery feeling in my stomach?

                              _______________________________________________

   “To play into a stalemate is the goal here. I am at a severe disadvantage right now,” Shawn thought to himself as he eyed the dual-colored board. Erratic sleep patterns would leave him in states of melancholy that were relieved with doses of chess: mano y mano. His opponent, usually visible not to the naked eye, unless a photographer had photoshopped a still image of himself imposed on the wall. Each piece calculated & moved while simultaneously calculating how many moves would no longer stall his inner peace before sunrise. The shadows on his wall were not envious as they watched with morose endurance. They murmured amongst themselves questioning if she were to ever return, but not even the remnants of her no longer played on the periwinkle walls in his sleep. Piece after piece was removed from the board as the stars laid down to rest. His eyes never wavered until 2 Kings remained atop the wooden square. The moon peaked through the blinders, shed a tear, & blew a kiss before she too, disappeared in the morning. Sometimes, she kept an eye on him & the sun was a bit jealous of their connection. He did not know what the moon saw in Shawn. The megastar’s bitterness brought forth a chilly June day. A purple windbreaker & sweat shorts were enough to combat back. A bit unusual, but no deterrence as Shawn strolled past the emerald green lawns & lush trees; much the same to some family-oriented television sitcom. Shawn was unaware that a smile crept up on his face, but the neighbors took notice & waved as he quickened his pace down the side walk. Blue jays harmonized in the air above him as he eyed butterflies frolic through the air & he suddenly stopped in his tracks…

                               _______________________________________________

   Melted together where the colors of the carnival as Shawn felt Ana clinch onto his arm & the body-sized tiger that came between them as the teacup frantically span the three into a muzzy state of joy.

           “You two look like a real-time version of Calvin & Hobbs. Carmen & Hobbs is what I’ll call you two.”

Shawn had gotten a little more comfortable with Ana after a few dates. She scornfully stared a hole into his forehead.

           “You still haven’t gotten over that Ms. Pac-Man beating have you? It’s okay, one day the shattered ego you have will finally be content. Until that day, I will starve that small little man that screams inside of your mind until it is victory you concede & you melt into the putty I envision you to mold you into the sculpted man I truly desire. Right now, this is just the waiting game. You were distracted too easily to converse when we were in the heat of war. Your loss.”

Her tongue was paint, or acid, her choice. He, simply, was a blank canvas for her liking at this very moment.

“Maybe, its more so that you’ve chosen to indulge a bit too deeply in the appetizer that I handfed you with the victory I allowed you to have. Whose to say your victory wasn’t fixed?”

           “All speculation. Of course, this type of allegation you would lean on to save face. Very Tim Donaghy of you Shawn. I’m disappointed.”

           “I mean, since that point, your victories have become few & far between. Even that night, pinball, clear-cut win in my column. Air Hockey was a 7-0 skunk. Basketball wasn’t even a challenge. Donaghy? Really?”

           “See how two of those three play to your advantage, with maybe the exception of air hockey because the table is even, but your physical strength gives you an advantage when you decide that my whole became a target & your…whatever they are called, because an AK-47 as you fired the puck with no restraint? How does fried victory taste? Hopefully as nutritious as a microwavable patty covered in barbecue sauce people clamor on about.”

           “Doesn’t matter its value, because in that moment it tastes so fucking good, I care not for the bigger picture there, but enjoying the RIGHT NOW!”

 The two had not noticed that all eyes in the carnival had locked onto their jawing match. That did not matter now, Ana’s curly brown & auburn hair had become vibrant & through her glasses, he glared directly into her darkened eyes & she too, was magnetized by his. Tension in the air was still as many were frozen, not knowing what was next. A vein in his neck pulsated as sweat trickled down her brow. Both, instantaneously after realizing what this was, scurried off to the closest blackened corridor. They found an absent alley by a Ferris Wheel ridden by many. Ana dropped her Hobbs in withered grass & turned her back to the wall as Shawn gripped her hip & both their full lips met in passion. Onlookers cheered from the skyline as they snapped back to reality, simmering their immature fervor.

           “Really? Our first kiss comes from your antagonistic… never mind. You wi… oh wait, you won’t get me that easily.”

           “I’ve already won,” she responded. “The moment I led you through Kat’s doors. I felt it. That doesn’t matter now, shut up & kiss me.”

                               _______________________________________________