People With POTS Be Passing Out During Sex And There Isn't Even Any Choking Going On

heres a link to my first lookbook !!

it features art that....tbh i never thought i'd ever share publicly - but i've decided to be open abt...

i hope you enjoy it ^-^

hi everyone!! your 5th favourite queer yapper on tumblr has excited news !!

if youre into abstract art, i have a portfolio ^-^ you can find it here

alsooo i'll be posting my first lookbook In The Soon™️ on my instagram so take a look if you wanna see ^-^

missed you

pairing : shen xinghui/xavier x mc/reader. i’ll be using female anatomy, my apologies 😔

warnings : 18+ fic, minors do not interact. please. use of “starlight” and “love” as pet names. pussy eating, p in v sex. rough OOC xavier (fr xavier would never act mean like this). praise.

background : he’s a needy boyfriend after a mission.

word count : 1.87k words

AN : first full on smut i’ve ever published somewhere. probably have WIPs on like my old/new wattpad but i lwk don’t wanna remember them 💔 very probable this will not be my best work but i’ll try to keep xavier in character. if anyone reads this, ty for giving this a chance 🙏

it’s been busy in linkon city these last few weeks. many wanderer attacks have taken place and the unicorns team has been dispatched often to keep the hordes of wanderers under control. while you have been teamed up with tara exceptionally, your usual partner has been sent on another solo mission.

obviously, his strength as “lumière” is a much needed contribution to keeping the wanderer attacks under control. without lumière, linkon would’ve been in ruins by now. and that, years ago. it’s not surprising captain jenna has sent him by himself to take care of some no-hunt zones.

you, however, missed the person behind the lumière persona. your dear boyfriend and partner, xavier, was continuously away from home. he casually dropped by his own apartment some days to take power naps and return to work shortly after, but never stopped by your apartment. you actually put more pressure on yourself to clear the wanderers so you can have him home faster.

after the whole team got rid of the spawning wanderers, you finally had two days off. captain jenna let you rest for these two days and had someone cover your work for the time being. you gratefully accepted this offer and hoped to finally get time and recharge with your dear boyfriend. the moment he was finally off duty, he teleported to your apartment and fell in your arms.

“you didn’t even bother taking the stairs? i’m just a floor under you,” you say softly, running your fingers through his hair and untangling it. you can feel him nodding against your neck.

“i wanted to see you. i missed you,” he admits. you chuckle at his vulnerability. it was very adorable, and you were reassured to know your feelings weren’t one sided. “i missed you too, xavier.”

he nuzzles his head in your neck and, as you both start to relax, you feel his hand sliding under your shirt and kneading the skin of your waist. a little gasp leaves your mouth as you stare at him, surprised. “what are you doing?”

he chuckles and his hands trail up higher, enjoying the feeling of your skin against his own. “isn’t it obvious? i missed you. i need to feel you. it’s been so long…” he trails off sleepily, his head buried in the crook of your neck. his hands stop right under to breasts, gently drawing circles on your skin. he starts kissing your neck, small pecks that eventually become more desperate, more passionate. you bite your bottom lip to keep small moans from leaving your mouth already.

“i thought you were tired. shouldn’t you sleep instead?” you tease him sarcastically, one hand going to the back of his neck and rubbing it. he doesn’t answer, too preoccupied to make you feel good. his lips trail up your neck, reaching your jaw as he lightly sucks on it. he kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth, until his lips finally land on yours.

at first, he is gentle. your hands grab his cheeks, leaning into his touch as the kiss continues. but the moment you pull back to catch your breath, he immediately kisses you back, turning more passionate and almost aggressive. his tongue pries itself into your mouth, battling against yours. his hands slip under your bra and his fingers toy with your nipples, desperate to hear a single sound come out of your mouth. your mind is hazy, feeling yourself grow wetter at his touch. how pathetic, you were already so aroused and he practically didn’t touch you yet. after that kiss that seemed to last an eternity, you let out a small moan, and xavier stares at you with a smirk on his face.

“good girl,” he praises you, his hand stroking your messy, undone hair. “keep making these sounds for me, okay? you sound beautiful.”

he raises your shirt over your head and throws it to the other side of the room. his lips lock onto your erected nipples, sucking on them one at a time. seeing them all red and swollen for him was wonderful. he wanted to make you feel good. he needed you to come undone with his touch, and his alone.

“x-xavier, you-“ you cant finish your sentence as he dips a hand under your pants, stroking your wet, clothed sex. every time his fingers brush against your sensitive clit, you cant keep yourself from shuddering, a mess under his touch. “feel so good, need you inside me. please,” you beg. he looks at your sternly, his eyes darker and more serious than when he introduced himself into your apartment.

“you need me? you need my cock?” you nod desperately, body jerking as his fingers tug the band of your panties teasingly. “then beg for it, starlight.”

he releases the band of your underwear to remove your sweatpants first. when he sees your legs, he immediately gets on his knees and trails kisses up your calves, to your knees, to your thighs. he looks up at you, his eyes expectant. “cant beg? then i’ll have to take this matter into my own hands.”

his fingers tug the band of your panties and slides them off your thighs. he pries your legs apart and holds them still as his head dives into your fold. the moment his hot tongue is in contact with your wet pussy, you twitch, legs struggling to stay open.

“so wet for me already… hm, you really needed this, didn’t you?” he whispers as he leans back from your cunt, staring up at you. when he notices you can’t hold your gaze on him, he scoffs. “look at me, love. look at who is making you feel so good.”

his tongue circles around your clit and suckles on it, enjoying the feeling of your hips grinding it his face. he decides to delve into your folds, reaching places you can’t by yourself. and oh, did he love how good you taste. he could feed on your essence for hours and he would want more. his thumb circles as he eats you out, his groans muffled by your cunt. he started grinding his hips on the edge of the couch as he felt more and more aroused, his erection straining in his pants. you, too, kept grinding your hips on his face, riding it.

“m’gonna cum,” you whisper, your words cut off by your desperate moans. it doesn’t take long before you cum on his face, your juices coating it. he keeps eating you out through it, lapping up at your insides until your body finally relaxes. he could see your eyes closing and grabbed your jaw, squeezing it.

“didn’t you forget something?” he asks while tilting your jaw to look at him. your words come out in a jumbled, incoherent mess. you struggle to look at him, feeling already overstimulated after your orgasm. he only sighs and unbuckles his belt.

“i’m not done with you, starlight,” he whispers next to your ear, throwing his belt away once he sees unbuckled it. he opens the zipper of his pants and you see his straining erection his boxers. he grabs your jaw again and tilts it to face him. “my face is here, love.”

“p-please, xavier… i need you,” you finally manage to whisper, his eyes boring into yours. you see a slight, proud smile on his face and he releases his hold on your jaw, only stroking your cheek. “hmm, you’re actually in a better state than i thought you’d be.”

he chuckles, kissing your cheek as he slides down his pants and boxers to let his cock spring free. “maybe i’ll be gentle so you aren’t completely wasted tomorrow,” xavier says calmly, his hand on the hilt of his cock, precum already glistening on his tip. “or maybe i should just fuck you dumb? you usually like that,” he adds, his warm breath on your neck. you make small nods and he smiles, his cock teasing and circling around your entrance.

“p-please fill me up,” you whimper. he honours your wishes, but does it slowly. his cock keeps teasing your entrance while his fingers pinch your nipples. he keeps whispering praise in your ear before gently settling inside you. your walls instinctively clench around him as he first bottoms himself inside you, which incites a whimper from him.

“i missed this… oh, you’re perfect, love,” he whimpers with shaky breath, nipping at your neck as he starts thrusting in and out of your cunt. “m-more, please,” you ask, and you feel him smile against your neck. “such a good girl. i’ll give you more.”

xavier keeps sucking at your neck, his hands settled on your breasts and he starts rutting into you, his cock reaching places you weren’t able to reach on your own. his length was perfect inside of you, pulsing from inside you as his lips landed on yours, tongue battling against yours.

your hand reaches behind his head, passing your fingers through his hair while he keeps rutting into you, his pace getting rougher and faster. the knot in your stomach forms once again and your legs quiver as you grind your hips against his own. you tug back on his hair to stop the kiss. “i’m gonna come- ugh, gonna come soon,” you whisper. a whimper comes out of his mouth, his cheeks flushed red. his cock pounds your insides, your eyes couldn’t help but roll back.

“y-you’re so hot when you pull my hair like that- fuck!” he whimpers against your lips before kissing you again like he’s starved. your moans slipped from your mouth despite his lips as you felt your climax approaching sooner than later.

“i’m gonna come too, ugh…” he adds, pulling back from the kiss and staring at your beautiful, flushed face. “you can hold it, starlight. for me?” he pleads, puppy eyes making him seem almost innocent as opposed to his cock abusing your pussy. “i know you can. you’re so good, so perfect…”

at his praise, you tried holding back, but it only spurred you on more. “i love your pussy. i love you. you’re such a good girl for me,” he whispered to you. you finally came, your slick juices coating his cock generously as he finally bottoms inside you one last time, long and thick spurts of hot seed filling you deep. he buried his dick inside you as you both recovered from your combined orgasm. he holds you close to him, breathing in your scent which he could never get enough of.

“i didn’t even get to ask you how your mission went,” you mention, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

“why would you want to know what lumière was up to?” he retorts in annoyance.

“because lumière is cool! i like learning more about him,” you say, obviously waiting for a reaction. after seeing him pout, you decide to give it up. “i know he can’t compete with my dear boyfriend though.”

“that’s not good enough for an apology.”

“i’ll let you borrow my electric stove then.”

xavier smiles and nuzzles his head against your neck, leaning into you. “i really love you.”

“i love you too, xavier.”

AN (2.0) : i sure do hope no one irl associates me with this blog. if someone knows me, please pretend this never existed and ily<3. i cant be shamed more than i am actually. btw did not proofread and wrote this within 3 days (it shows) so quality sucks i’m sorry. finals are shit.

★no reposts ! please give credits to xiwatchthemoon★

you know, another thing that fascinates me about LADS is how which LI(s) a player chooses is reflective of personal preferences? like, i recognise that that is pretty ‘obvious’ - sure, obviously, the LI(s) players choose are going to, to some degree, embody what a player likes; but it’s interesting to stop and self-reflect on what that says about oneself on a deeper level?

using myself as an example, i’m very much a Xavier girl; and, sure, on the surface level, it’s just a “the heart wants what the heart wants” situation - but it’s honestly quite…revealing? to actually sit with and discern the ‘why’ behind what draws me to him. while on a surface level, it can be summarised as a ‘he’s my type’ kind of thing, but i think stopping and thinking about why he’s my type - like, what that says about me and what i, consciously or not, look for - is a fascinating thought experiment?

personally, i think it speaks to a sense of ‘reliability?’ like, to me, a chronic overworker, xavier seems to embody a sense of rest, a sense of being the type of person you could depend on, someone who you could ‘turn off your brain’ around because you can rely upon them. and i think that that speaks to something on a deeper level - i think that that type of need often manifests in women like myself, people who are used to having to be self-reliant, to having to be the ones who ‘do it all.’

i think that need is a very common manifestation of the burden that comes with that level of self-reliance; of retreating into, or simply just daydreaming about, having a partner who can be that, of someone who’s not only capable, but willing - interested - in taking care of you - and i think that that often does begin and evolve out of that fantasy. very often, this desire is born out of previous experiences where such a need hasn’t been met, which results in then having to shoulder the burden of being the only person who takes care of yourself - which is not only physically taxing, but also emotionally taxing; it evokes this sense of “i take care of everyone, but who takes care of me?”

and i think that that’s one of the things that i love about the LADS community; it’s really interesting seeing these open conversations around why other players choose the LI(s) they do. particularly, i love getting to be exposed to these discussions around LI(s) that i specifically feel no strong draw to - it’s actually quite cool seeing why someone might be a caleb girl (as he’s basically the opposite of my type lol) and have that additional perspective. especially because the logic is often quite similar? like, the very things that draw me to xavier could be nearly identical to what draws someone to caleb, or sylus, or zayne, or rafayel - and it’s really interesting hearing about how that manifests in people.

LaDs Men Hexed to Their Kid Form

AN: ovaries are working overtime today.

Pairing: LaDS boys x gn reader (Platonic ish)

Genre: Hurt and shit ton of comfort

TW: children being sad

Ingredients: 60% angst , 40% comfort

My Fav: All of them.

Background: The battle had been close, too close. The Wanderers swarmed, overwhelming you both. You fought back-to-back, every breath a struggle. Then the blast hit him, filling the entire field with dense, choking smoke. You staggered forward, coughing, vision blurred, and found him...Or rather, a child swimming in his too-large clothes. He looked up at you, wide-eyed and confused, the face of a five-year-old where your partner should have been.

And so you are stuck with the toddler version of your partner for the week it takes for the spell to wear off.

Xavier:

The moment you pick him up, he melts against you, tiny fingers clutching your shirt as his eyes flutter shut. Within seconds, the Crown Prince Xavier of Philos is softly snoring in your arms, his head nestled against your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck.

He’s such a sweet kid. The kind who spends hours making flower potions, carefully plucking petals and crushing them into muddy brews in the garden.

He speaks in surprisingly proper sentences at the strangest times, his tiny frame somehow finding perfect, upright posture as he asks, “A sip of tea, if you please?” as if you have a silver tea set stashed in your cabinets.

He loves sparring with you, too. Will drag you out to the backyard, a twig clutched tightly in his little fist, his stance serious, his expression set. He takes his training so seriously, his tiny brows furrowed in concentration as he swipes at your legs, his feet shuffling through the grass clumsily.

You can’t bring yourself to break his little warrior heart, so you pretend to dodge his tiny, furious attacks, stumbling back dramatically as he strikes your shin with all the force of a gentle pat.

“Good form, Your Highness,” you say, clutching your side like you’ve been mortally wounded, and his eyes sparkle with pride.

He’s a model patient, too. Sits obediently through every check-up and magical test you arrange to break the curse, his little legs swinging off the edge of the examination table, his small hands gripping yours for comfort.

And when he finally turns back, Xavier hesitates, for a moment. He brushes his fingers over the dried flower petals still scattered on your windowsill, his expression distant, his posture just as straight and proper as ever.

“Thank you... for looking after me,” he says quietly, his voice softer, a little more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it.

He also becomes the unabashed source of months of baby fever to follow, because now you can’t unsee the tiny, mud-streaked prince who once demanded you fetch him grape juice like it was royal wine.

Rafayel:

He’s the tantrum kid. The one you hear before you see, little feet stomping, high-pitched wails echoing through the halls. He’ll thrash on the floor over the smallest inconvenience, his tiny fists pounding the carpet as if it personally offended him.

Give him a set of paints or a shallow pool, though, and he’s content, for a while. He needs attention, craves it like a plant craves sunlight. He soaks it up, demands it, his bright eyes watching you to make sure you’re still looking, still clapping, still there.

He’s a prankster, too. No better than a fae changeling. He whispers to empty corners at 10 p.m., tilts his head as if listening to something only he can hear, then giggles when you whirl around, heart racing. He lives to catch you off guard, to see the startled, exasperated look on your face.

“Rafayel!” you shout, splashing into a flooded bathroom, the tide already creeping into the living room carpet. And... is that a starfish clinging to your couch cushion?

You scoop him out of the mess, his wet, squirming body deposited onto the couch as you dash to stop the flood. He grins up at you, eyes bright with mischief, water still dripping from his curls, and you can’t help the exasperated laugh that escapes you.

But for all his noise and chaos, there are nights when you find him curled up in a corner, his little shoulders shaking, cheeks wet with silent tears.

It’s always the same question, whispered between hiccups: “Why can’t I feel it? Why can’t I hear them?”

He’s too young to understand, to process the strange, aching emptiness in his heart. The absence of Lemuria’s call, the gentle hum of the ocean he was born to rule.

And all you have to offer is a soothing lullaby, your voice soft in the darkness as you rock him in your arms. He clings to you, tiny fingers curled into your shirt, his face buried in your shoulder, and you can feel the wet warmth of his tears soaking into your skin.

Eventually, he falls asleep, his breathing slow and heavy, but his cheeks stay streaked with salt, his grief lingering even in his dreams.

And so, you hug him tightly to sleep. Even after he does turn back to his former self.

Zayne:

You love trolling this kid.

“Yeah, you grew up to be the world’s greatest circus master,” you say with a perfectly straight face, flipping through an old album to a picture of his older self, his monkey brother clinging to his shoulder.

To your absolute delight, you walk into the living room one day to find little Zayne standing on a stool, waving a stick like a magician commanding the elements. His brows are furrowed, his lips pressed into a tight line, his tiny hands cutting through the air as if casting a powerful, world-altering spell.

Despite the devastation of not becoming a doctor, Zayne doesn’t seem entirely opposed to the idea of performing. He takes to it with a quiet, intense focus, folding napkins like they’re spell scrolls, lining up marbles like enchanted stones.

And he’s such a good kid, too. He helps you clean up after dinner, carefully setting the table by standing on a chair, each fork and spoon. You often find him perched on the counter, munching on apple slices, watching you cook with wide, attentive eyes.

But you notice things.

He’s too careful for a child. Always on guard, his small shoulders tight, his movements measured, as if afraid of brushing against something that might break. He pulls away from any touch, flinches when you reach for him too quickly.

And then one night, when he’s fast asleep, you notice the tiny, fading scars on his arms. Old, white lines, barely visible, but unmistakable. The kind that still mark his mark his arms as an adult.

It breaks your heart.

He’s not just afraid of the world, he’s afraid of himself, of his evol, of the power that lies dormant in his tiny, trembling hands. He knows, even now, that one wrong move, one slip of control, could hurt the people he cares about.

When he finally turns back, you make it a point to hug him a little tighter, to reach for his hand without hesitation, to ruffle his hair whenever he’s within arm’s reach. You pull him into half-hugs when he least expects it, sling your arm around his shoulders, and lean into him as if the years of self-restraint never happened.

And though he huffs and grumbles, you notice he never pulls away. Not anymore.

Sylus:

He flinches. A lot.

It breaks your heart. Someone made him this way, turned this fierce, proud dragon into a child who startles at shadows and stiffens at loud noises. You don’t know who hurt him, who made him so wary, but the thought twists your chest with a slow, simmering anger.

You have to be so gentle with him. Move slowly, speak softly, give him space to retreat when he needs it. You learn to read his small, hesitant steps, the way his eyes dart to the door when voices get too loud, the way he freezes at sudden movements.

He befriends Mephisto first. The little mechanical crow hops around his feet, clicking and chirping in its strange, metallic voice, and Sylus’s eyes brighten, just a bit. You watch them from the doorway, relieved that this version of him has at least made a friend, even if it’s a tiny, clockwork bird.

You watch them talk for hours, Sylus’s small hands carefully cradling the crow, his head tilted as he whispers to it in a voice too soft for you to hear. You don’t interrupt. You wouldn’t dare.

One afternoon, you find him peeking into his grown self’s closet, wide eyes reflecting the glimmer of polished cufflinks, the dark sheen of leather, the sharp edges of perfectly pressed suits.

“Mine?” he asks, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

You sink to the floor beside him, your heart aching as you hold up a pair of sapphire-studded cufflinks..

“Yes, darling,” you whisper, voice catching as he inches closer, his tiny fingers brushing the cool metal. “All yours.”

He looks at you then, his eyes wide and wet, and you feel something in your chest crack, the sharp, aching pressure of a dam breaking.

In the week you spend with little Sylus, you make it a point to create the warmth he seems to have never known. You cook diamond-shaped waffles for breakfast, topping them with strawberries and whipped cream, watching his eyes go wide with every bite. You sit around the dinner table, the twins leaning in to ruffle his hair, to tell him stories, to praise every brave word that slips from his lips.

You help him taste test every jar in his precious jam collection, each spoonful a hesitant experiment. His small face lights up at the burst of different flavors. He eats so little otherwise.

When the spell finally breaks, and he returns to his grown self, you don’t ask him. You don’t push. You don’t demand to know who hurt him, or what he was so afraid of as a child.

But one night, as you lie together in the darkness, his head resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck, he whispers it to you. He tells you of a past so tragic, so twisted in grief and betrayal, that by the end of it, you’re both sobbing softly, clinging to each other in the dark.

And when he finally falls silent, his breathing slow and even against your chest, you press a kiss to his hair and whisper, “You’re safe now. I promise.”

Caleb:

He is numb.

Worse than any chip.

Unlike any kid you’ve ever met.

He sits on the couch, knees drawn to his chest, staring blankly at the flickering TV. His eyes are hollow, his small hands limp in his lap, his breaths shallow and mechanical, as if his body has forgotten how to feel anything at all.

“Caleb,” you murmur, sinking down beside him. You reach out, your fingers carding gently through his dark, messy hair. “Please eat something.” You set a tray of cut fruit in front of him. He doesn’t even blink.

It’s only when you bring out the album that something flickers behind his eyes.

“Look,” you whisper, flipping through the worn, crinkled pages. “Both of us... we made it.”

His head turns slowly, his dark eyes focusing on the images, two kids, standing side by side with basket full of Halloween candy. With him dressed as a T-Rex and you as Pooh bear.

“It wasn’t easy,” you say, holding the book open so he can see, “and we got hurt, but we have our life. We’re happy.”

You feel his small fingers twitch, his gaze lingering on a faded, slightly torn photo of the two of you, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, chocolate stained cheeks.

You let him take it from your hands, his small fingers gripping the edges, the photo trembling slightly as he holds it close.

“You did good,” you whisper, gently patting his head.

For a long moment, his haunted eyes lock with yours, his small body trembling, caught between disbelief and desperate, aching hope. He doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to let the warmth in, doesn’t want to be swayed.

But he’s a kid.

And then, like a dam breaking, he lunges into your arms, clutching you tightly, his tiny frame shuddering against yours as the weight of it all crashes over him.

“You did so good,” you repeat, rocking him gently in your arms. “You were so brave, Caleb. I’m so proud of you.” You pat his small, shaking back, your own eyes stinging with tears, unable to bear his pain.

And for the first time in days, you feel him breathe.

When he returns to his old self, you make it a point to frame every single one of those photos. You hang them in the hallway, tuck them into his desk, slip them into his office drawers. You take so many more, catching him off guard, dragging him to photobooths, and fancy dress parties.

Because if that little Caleb ever returns to you, you want him to have more. More memories, more proof, more warmth. You want him to know, without a doubt, that he did make it. That he did good.

PAIRINGS: Reader x Xavier

SUMMARY: You and Xavier are fighting a wanderer when it unexpectedly unleashes an aphrodisiac, causing Xavier to turn feral ✶⋆.˚

WARNING/TAGS: MDNI 18+, use of sex pollen/ aphrodisiacs, mentions of rough p in v sex, multiple orgasms and overstim, grinding/ dry humping, slight dubcon, clit stimulation. 1.2K words

A/N: My version of the popular use of aphrodisiacs trope ♡

You enter the forest clearing with a frown.

“Where is the wanderer? Tara said that it would be here somewhere…”

Xavier trails behind you, his brow furrowed as he glances around the open stretch of grass and the dense ring of trees looming in the distance.

“Do you see something moving amongst the trees?”

“Wh—?!” Your sentence abruptly gets cut off when something huge and heavy pounces upon you. You let out a shriek as you're met face-to-face with the creature, a monstrosity of jagged teeth, forked slimy tongues and glowing amber eyes. It aggressively swings its tail at you, long, black-leathered and barbed with jagged spikes—

And then there’s a burst of bright light. The wanderer is thrown back into the air as Xavier advances towards it cautiously, his sword drawn and poised ready to attack. The wanderer hisses, pawing angrily against the ground, its eyes swivelling between you both. It seems to make up its mind, knowing that you’re the easier target, it attacks you once more. Its tail comes down hard on you, and you stand there petrified, knowing that there isn’t enough time to dodge anyway –

With a groan, Xavier grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you out of harm’s way as the barbed end sinks into his own shoulder. You grab your gun and fire, and the bullet lands snugly right into the wanderer's heart. It growls as it collapses, taking its last few breaths of air.

“Xavier!” You rush to your partner’s side as panic seizes you. He’s on the ground, his eyebrows pinched in pain as you roll him over to inspect the damage. There are a few grazes that cut into his uniform and skin, and he clutches his shoulder, panting lightly as he looks up at you with a strange expression.

“Thank god, the cut isn’t too deep – why did you try to save me, you idiot –” You gently push him down onto the grassy floor as you straddle him, fumbling around in your bag for your first aid kit. What you don’t notice, however, is the strange dark fluid from the wanderer’s tail soaking into his wound and the way Xavier is panting almost too hard and his oddly laboured breaths as he looks up at you.

“Pl…please get off of me…” Xavier says, sounding forced, and his azure blue eyes begging.

“What? I’m trying to heal you.” You look down at him, confused.

Xavier’s eyes are dilating and contracting rapidly. His hands are balled up into fists as he desperately forces them to stay glued at his side. He grinds his rock-hard boner against your clothed cunt; it is taking all his willpower to not buck up into you and give in into his urges.

Realisation washes over you.

“The wanderer … its poison contain some sort of aphrodisiac, don’t they? What sort of monster has Tara set us up to?”

“I don’t … I don’t know … “ Xavier says weakly, closing his eyes. “But if you don’t –”

His eyes fly open, and they glow a hue of blue as he is suddenly shoving you down onto the ground with newfound strength. He growls as he wraps his hands around your clothed tits and squeezes hard, eliciting moans from you, your back instinctively arching into his demanding touch. He slides a hand over your stomach and down to your pants, and with an aggressive tug it is pulled down to your ankles, your bare cunt exposed to him.

“Stay right there.” Xavier snarls, as he pushes his boner up against your cunt. His voice is deeper, meaner, as he slides off his own pants and rubs his dick against your soaking pussy, catching up against your clit and sending waves of pleasure though your body.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you practically see stars when Xavier finally pushes his leaking cock into your tight wet heat with a hiss. He sets a brutal pace, fucking into you like some feral animal, and all you can do is lie there and take his cock.

Xavier leans down, licking a stripe up to your neck as he continues to thrust relentlessly into you. When you moan out loud, he attaches his lips onto that spot on your neck, seemingly satisfied with finding your sensitive spot as he nibbles and sucks.

“Xavier”, you whimper. “ S’ going to leave a mark…”

At the sound of his name on your tongue, the glow in Xavier’s eyes seem to dim a little . His head jerks up, and his expression twists into shock as he realizes what he’s done.

“Oh no,” he whispers. “I’m– I’m so sorry –”

For a moment, he almost seems back to normal. But then the blue glow flares brighter in his eyes, and his pace quickens. A sneer curls across his lips.

“Miss the old me?” he demands, as his hips snap into you with a particularly hard thrust. “Shame. He can’t save you now.”

His nimble, sleek fingers find your clit and they circle around it, as he continues to pound you. “I’ve only just gotten started with you.”

You whimper pathetically at this, and Xavier’s pupils dilate even further.

“You like it when I’m like this, don’t you?” His lips are on the shell of your ear, his breath hot. “Look at the way your tight little pussy is holding onto my cock.” His voice is mocking, as he rolls your clit in between his finger, giving it a suddenly pinch.

Your orgasm seizes your body as you come around his big hard cock, crying his name and trembling from the force of it. Xavier fucks you through it, and true to his words, he doesn’t stop his brutal pace.

✶⋆.˚

You must have came in ten different positions before the aphrodisiac finally manages to work its way out of Xavier’s system. When he finally returns back to his usual self, for good this time, worry instantly fills his eyes as he apologises to you over and over again.

You let out a weak groan as you collapse to the ground. Xavier manages to catch you in time, pulling you close to his warm body and wrapping his strong arms around you.

“I … I didn’t know the wanderer would do that.” You quip. You’re pumped full of Xavier’s seed, and it’s obscene how it leaks out of your cunt. Xavier’s face instantly turns pink as his eyes fall onto your pussy. As his fingers reach out to swipe away the cum, they accidentally catch onto your sensitive clit, and you cry out loud from the overstimulation.

“I-I didn’t mean to –” Xavier stammers, his face turning an even darker shade of pink. “Please, let me clean you up and cook you dinner at my place. It’s the least I can do.”

The least he can do is to not cook you dinner, you think, but you don’t say that out loud. Instead, you hug him back.

“Don’t feel bad about what just happened, okay? It wasn’t your fault. Plus … I liked it.” Your face now matches the same shade of red as Xavier’s.

Xavier’s eyes are wide. He opens his mouth wordlessly, then closes it again. Finally, he says, shyly, “If that’s the case… Maybe tonight, you can come over for something a little more exciting than dinner.”

Your jaw drops. With such a sweet, innocent face, who’d expect he’d say such suggestive things?

❀❁✿

If I ask U nicely can I have another soup cup?

As much as you want 🍜👍

Me with POTS making any food:

Oh, hey, hey there! Hello! Sorry to bother you. Yeah I'll be out of your DMs in just a second. Yeah it's just I was passing by and realized the way you're expressing your gender or sexuality really doesn't cohere with the way that my extremely insular groupthink faction of the internet thinks gender and sexuality should be expressed. What you're doing is really problematic actually, given how much it really doesn't gel with how my group thinks gender and sexuality need to work. I just wanted to give you a friendly heads up and give you the chance to change before I do anything like call you out publically.

Oh what's that? If you change what you're doing to satisfy me, then a completely different extremely insular groupthink circle of the internet will be mad at you instead? Yeah that's completely true. Luckily this is easy! My groupthink's group-think is the correct and progressive one. Their groupthink's group-think is really problematic and narrow-minded. I hope this helps?

Oh you're still doing what you're doing. :/ Okay man it's just that there's kids in my group, you know? Teens. They're literally kids, and you're making them super uncomfortable because we told them to be uncomfortable. Won't you think of the kids? This argument has never once backfired on a member of the queer community.

Oh. Okay. Well, I mean I was being really polite and respectful and you've just been rude so. Tell you what. If in 5 years from now the narrative has shifted such that the common queer community now supports what you're doing, I'm gonna act like I actually always supported this and have always been on your side. That's a good compromise right? Cool.

Anyway, I think that's totally fair of me. I'm gonna go warn everyone I know about how you're an unsafe person to interact with. This is for protection of the queer community. I'm a very good person.

very funny (irritating) to me that everyone whined and yelled about stupid rainbow capitalism and how performative wokeness/allyship is a net bad we should all refuse to support and now like.

tumblr is doing nothing for pride and target isn't selling much (if any) of their pride collection offline except at certain stores (in democratic areas, basically) and build a bear has a much tinier collection than normal and all the actual pride stuff is on their "adult" website (not sure if it's in stores, but pride = adult is a hell of a message)

there are genuinely good criticisms for performative allyship in all its applications. it shouldn't be the only thing we expect from people and companies. but if all the shit I see being called performative stopped tomorrow then in terms of the LGBTQ+ community especially we just. wouldn't talk about queerness or queer issues or celebrate pride or do anything.

open your fucking eyes. we are very close politically to having gay marriage rolled back. now companies are basically being let off the hook to even make a miniscule effort (which matters to the people who don't have access to any other kind of support in their communities! which normalizes the community in public spaces!) because the only reaction they have gotten over the last few years are negative ones from BOTH sides.

we are so entrenched in discourse at all times for the sake of our OWN performance of who is the wokest and who is REALLY an ally or a good community member that we have basically handed over all the work of activists of the last several decades to the other side because we'd rather scream at each other over fucking chicken restaurants and shit than the real life backsliding that's happening.

and this goes for other shit too. feminism, poc rights, all of it.

also. trans rights aren't discourse and aren't just culture war arguments. in case any terfs think they can spin this to be antitrans.