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jewishvitya · 3 days

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Haaretz did this:

The full thing is under the cut, in case this link is paywalled for other people. The actual text has blocked out portions as well, to highlight what it's like to report on cases of administrative detention.

Highlights:

Like all administrative detention hearings, it was held in-camera, to obscure the fact that detainees' lawyers do their job without access to the facts of the case. Even the few details that are not secret are prohibited for publication. The administrative detention order was approved in full for a period of six months

And

In the past, it was considered, at least officially, a measure reserved for the most extreme of cases. This hypocritical position has always been false, but now there is no longer any need to save face. According to the Israeli army's own data, almost 5,000 arrests were made in the West Bank in the past eight months. These are very conservative numbers, as they don't include the many thousands arrested and released without being indicted.

The data shows that administrative detention, this so-called extreme of extremes, is now the norm. According to Israeli Prison Service numbers, Israel now holds 7016 people who have not yet been convicted in its jails – either awaiting trial or under administrative detention. Of these, 4,299 – more than 60%! – are held without charge or trial. And all that is without saying a single word about the torture, hunger and humiliation to which all Palestinian prisoners held by Israel are subjected these days.

Administrative detention is based on secret suspicions, secret evidence and no charges being brought. To conceal its inherent absurdity, hearings are held in-camera and away from the public eye. As such, even the little that is revealed to the defense remains prohibited for publication.

On the morning of October 29, after a short farewell to his wife Nariman and their kids, Bassem Tamimi left his home in the West Bank village of Nabi Saleh, north of Ramallah, and started heading east toward the Allenby Bridge. He was on his way to visit relatives in Jordan he had not seen in a long time. A little after 11 A.M., Nariman received a message saying, "The secret police asked for me. I'll write when it's over." And then, shortly after 3 P.M., a call: "I am being arrested. They're coming to take the phone. Have to go. Bye."

This, unfortunately, was not Bassem's first encounter with Israeli law. His village, Nabi Saleh, has waged a multi-year campaign of civil resistance against land grabs and settlement expansion. As a prominent activist, he was incarcerated repeatedly for his role as a protest leader, part of Israel's attempt to quell dissent.

In the evening, the phone rang again. The woman on the line introduced herself, saying she lived in Silwan and was currently at the Hadassa hospital in Jerusalem. She then went on to say that Bassem was there, surrounded by soldiers. He was taken there after his blood pressure soared dangerously. Nariman could faintly hear Bassem's voice over the line saying, "I'm fine, don't worry, everything's good." After a few more hours, at night, that same woman sent a picture of Bassem in the ER, undergoing a checkup; his hand bound with ziptie cuffs. That was the last time Nariman heard from him. Save for a single short lawyer visit before Eid al-Fitr in April, no one has been in contact with him since.

Four days after his arrest, police ████, ████ ████: "███████ ███ ████ █████ ███ ████████, ██████, █████? "███████ ███ ██████: "████ ███ ██████." And that was that. Eight days later – the maximum time afforded to the authorities by article 33 of Israel's military law in the West Bank before a detainee must be presented before a judge (who also is a soldier in uniform) – a six-month administrative detention order was issued, which did not suggest any specific allegations, but rather only a very general statement regarding ███████ ██ █ ███████ .

Eleven more days later, the Kafkaesque proceedings of judicial review over the order took place. Some of it was held ex-parte between the soldier-judge and the Shin Bet. Like all administrative detention hearings, it was held in-camera, to obscure the fact that detainees' lawyers do their job without access to the facts of the case. Even the few details that are not secret are prohibited for publication. The administrative detention order was approved in full for a period of six months, until April 28.

Administrative detention, however, is not really bound by the limits of time, and can be extended indefinitely. And indeed, as the six months passed, a new six-month order was signed, citing the same meaningless cause of ██████ ████ █ ██████ ██ █. This time however, and unlike the state of affairs in almost any other administrative detention case, the defense had a pretty good insight into the details of the case. Administrative detention is such a mundane phenomenon in Israeli military courts, that , , , .

A few hours prior to Bassem's arrest, Israeli forces arrested █████ █ ████ █ ██████ ███ █████ █ ████████ ███ ███, Bassem's friend from their days together in Israeli jail at the beginning of the millennium. Then too, under administrative detention. ██████ ███ █████ █ ███ ████ ███ ███ ██████ █ ██ █████ █ ███ █████ ███ ███ █ ███ ███ ████, █ ████ ███ ███ ████ ███ ████ █ █ ███ █████ ██ ██ ██ ██ ███ ████ █ ███ █████ ███ ███ █████ ███ ████ █ ███. █████ ███ ███ █████ ███ █████ █ ███, █████ ███ ███ ███ ███ ███ █████ █ ████ ███ ███ ████ ███ █████? █ █████ ██ ███ ███. ██ ███ ██ ███ █ ██ █████ ███ ███ ██████ ███ █████ █ █████ ███ ███ ██████ ███ █████.

█ ████ ███ ███ ███ █████ ███ █████ █ ████ ████ ███ ███ ████ ███ █████ █ ████ ██ ███, ██████ ███ █████ █ ███ ████ ███ ███ ████ ███ █████ █ ██ ███ ███ ███ ███ ██ ███ ███ █ "██████ ███ ███ ████ ███ ████ █ ██████ ███ ███? █████ ███ █████ █ ████ ███ ███ █████ ███ ████ █ ███████ ███." ███ ██████ ███ ████ █ ███ ███ ███ ██ ███ █████ █ ██████ ███ ███ 25 ███ ██ █████ █ ███████ ████, long after the administrative detention order against Bassem was reviewed and approved by the court, ██████ was unconditionally released.

On his release, ██████ contacted Nariman and told her what had happened, thinking that his release must also mean Bassem should soon follow. This is how the defense learned the details it knows, and not through discovery by the prosecution. Even though there is no gag order on ██████ ██████'s case, discussing its details in conjunction with Bassem's administrative detention is prohibited for publication. Despite everything that was revealed – and that is the nature of administrative detention: there can always be more hidden evidence, secret, almost mystical – Bassem is still being held under administrative detention even now. Almost two weeks after the hearing, ███ █ ██ ██████ ██████ ████████ █████ █ █████ █ █████, the judge partially confirmed the second administrative detention order against Bassem in violation of military law provisions, ████████ ████ █ ███ █ ███████ ███ █ ████████.

Like Bassem, thousands more are held captive by Israel under administrative detention. In the past, it was considered, at least officially, a measure reserved for the most extreme of cases. This hypocritical position has always been false, but now there is no longer any need to save face. According to the Israeli army's own data, almost 5,000 arrests were made in the West Bank in the past eight months. These are very conservative numbers, as they don't include the many thousands arrested and released without being indicted.

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myojinn · 2 days

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How You Met - Sukuna Ryomen

How You Met ... Part of Cursed Spirit!Reader Series Heian Era!Sukuna Ryomen (JJK) x Cursed Spirit!Reader tags: fluff? maybe, strangers to friends summary: You never thought that one day you'd receive a wish asking for the fall of the great Sukuna Ryomen, but you were a determined cursed spirit and set out to fulfill the wish anyway. a/n: Yay. This is another part to the Cursed Spirit!Reader series. I hope y'all like this one. I would love love love some suggestions for other parts to this series. This takes place years and years ago in reference to the previous two fics.

Cursed Spirit!Reader Masterlist (soon)

If there was one thing you loved most in the world it would be being praised.

Nothing could ever beat the overwhelming amount of offerings you would receive regularly at your shrine. People left you valuable objects in exchange for your services. As a cursed spirit, of course, you were up to no good. You heeded the wishes of those who wanted to witness the despair of others. The better the offering, the worse their fate would be. Your entity and your shrine quickly grew to become an infamous subject all over the land. Some revered you and some detested you. However, you never understood the hate. In reality, you were a curse of balance. You naturally sought out beings with cursed energy that were lower or higher than usual. You liked it this way—balanced, with everything in proper circulation in nature. And sure, you did other people's bidding, but it's not like you didn't have any standards. You chose your battles. You judged how worthy that person was and how significant their wish was. Although, you never turned down a wish because you were intimidated by it. Well... not until someone wished for the death of Sukuna Ryomen.

Everyone knew who Sukuna was. But unlike you, no one truly liked him. He was respected, but mostly out of fear. He didn't listen to anyone and clearly, he only thought about his own interests. To be fair, with strength like that, no one can really contest him about his attitude. You are strong and you've proved that fact plenty of times by defeating all of your foes. You were a confident little cursed spirit, but not when it came to Sukuna. You just knew that he was in a league of his own. But here you are... on your way to his shrine. What exactly made you go and fulfill this outrageous wish? You weren't sure. You knew he was way more powerful and maybe it was the potential thrill that enticed you. To say you were a battle junkie is an understatement.

You wanted a great battle to be etched forever into your memory and maybe the strongest sorcerer would be able to give that honor to you.

----------

Sukuna was in his chambers, eyes closed and hoping for a wink of sleep. But the commotion outside was absolutely irritating. He let out an audible 'tsk' before stomping his way out of his room and into the hall. As if on cue, one of his servants come running up to him. He knew what fear looked like and it was written all across the boy's face. Sukuna looked down on him with all arms crossed. "Mind explaining all the noise outside?" The boy looked up. His eyes were the size of saucers and he was sweating profusely despite the relatively cold weather of the late. "I... Um... My Lord, there's a cursed spirit wreaking havoc outside," he explained. "The guards tried to fend them off but... um... they're too strong and-" The boy wasn't just afraid of the intrusion, but also of the impending doom that awaited them at this shrine. Surely, Sukuna wasn't happy that his guards and servants were able to do jackshit against some lowly cursed spirit. Although, he thought, maybe it wasn't such a lame attack this time. Perhaps it was a formidable opponent waiting for him outside. He didn't bother hearing any more excuses from the frail boy who could barely stand in front of him. He walked off quite calmly which betrayed what he truly felt.

Oh and he felt excited—pure and palpable excitement.

And you were everything that he was hoping for.

He watched for a while as you went on a rampage. He already knew who you were—the notorious cursed spirit used her mist technique to defeat enemies.

As popular as you were, even Sukuna had little to no clue as to what your cursed technique entailed. So he watched closely. He observed how precise your movements were and how agile you were. He was impressed with how absorbed you were that you didn't notice him or maybe you ignored him on purpose?

But finally, you looked at him and your eyes met. You had a crazed look on your face while standing atop a pile of servants that you threw together.

He smirked at the wicked smile that you offered him.

"You did all this?"

You looked around, mocking him. "I don't see anyone else here." You turn back to look at him, still smiling as if you didn't unleash hell just a few minutes ago.

He took a few steps forward, admiring your handiwork. "You think you're funny? Hm?"

"Mhm, my three friends say so!" You hold up the number three with your hands to emphasize your point. Although, he doubts that you even have friends in the first place. It was ridiculous to think that a cursed spirit like you had any friends.

Hell, he wasn't a cursed spirit and yet he had no one to call as a comrade.

Finally, a faint smirk appeared on his face. His sharp and striking features definitely did not go unnoticed by you. "What are you waiting for, little thing? Aren't you here for the big event?" You grinned like a Cheshire cat. You were looking forward to exchange blows with him, but you wanted to have a little chat. Maybe rile him up and see him at full power. But, alas, he was an impatient one it seems.

"Then, prepare yourself... Sukuna Ryomen."

His grin grew wider as you lunged forward. You were sure that your punch would land. After all, you were fast. But it wasn't enough to even graze the skin of the great Sukuna. He caught your fist easily and threw you to the side. But you landed on your feet just in time.

Adrenaline pumped through your veins. Your rapidly beating heart was confused if this was fear or excitement.

Maybe raw power wouldn't cut this. You held out your arms to unbridle the dark mist that is your cursed technique. You made sure to concentrate all of the cursed energy around him. This is what you did when you wanted to suffocate your prey and make quick work for them.

But soon you realize that... you were the prey.

He easily slices through the cocoon of mist you built around him, unimpressed by your attack.

"Quit playing and be serious with me. I'm quite offended that you're using flimsy attacks like these."

You faked a smirk, not wanting to show the unease bubbling in your stomach. Flimsy? That was one of the strongest attacks you had... shit. It wasn't looking good for you. The two of you exchanged blows for a while... well, more like you were hurling whatever attack you could think of and he'd slice through them. It was one-sided; anyone could see that. Despite your efforts and huge releases of cursed energy, it just wasn't enough to even scratch him. He stood above you as you panted, desperate for some air to fill your lungs. The corner of his lips tugged into a cocky smirk. "That all you got?" Talking back to him was futile. Instead, you pulled your fist back to gain more force before swinging a punch at him. He easily caught it anyway. "Seriously. This is getting boring." Even he had enough of his own passiveness. He twisted your wrist, swept you right off of your feet, and pinned you down on the ground in a matter of seconds. You blinked dumbfoundedly at his intimidating form above you. He lifted his fist, ready to pound it down on your poor face. All you could do was close your eyes and accept your fate.

One second turned into two... then three... then nothing...

Sukuna's fist never met your face.

Your eyes slowly fluttered open to see that his fist had stopped a mere half-inch from your face. "Heh, hope you didn't piss your pants. Now, scram." He got off of you and began walking away. He was arrogant enough to show his back to you—confident that you wouldn't be able to turn the tables even if he was 'vulnerable'.

"Wait!" you shouted and you weren't sure why.

He turned around with a bored expression on his face. "Go home, brat. And stay there if you know what's good for y-" "Let me stay with you!"

"Hah???"

He was perplexed by what you had just proposed. He made a pathetic show out of you and now you want to stay with him? What kind of masochist are you? He thought.

You stood up, fighting against the wobbly legs and the soreness that surged through your body. "You're strong! I like ya!"

His eyes widened. Had you gone insane? "Are you fucked in the head or something?"

Maybe you were. Maybe the battle junkie in you thought that he could show you more heights. Before the battle you had today, you were sure that you were the strongest you could ever be.

But Sukuna Ryomen proved to you that you had so much more and perhaps he could unlock that for you.

You walked closer to where he stood, then dropped to your knees. "C'mon... I'll call you 'My Lord' or whatever gets you off."

"Tsk."

You even bowed down your head for full effect.

Never in your wildest dreams would you have ever imagined getting on your knees and begging like this, especially after you had been defeated so easily.

"I'll let you use my power for your benefit," you added. Truth be told, he found your cursed technique quite useful and troublesome if you learn how to use it better. You had great potential. You just needed polishing... and you went against him. Naturally, you would lose anyway.

"Fine."

You looked up, eyes sparkling with a wide grin stretching across your face. "When do I move in?"

You were practically beaming and it threw him off. He glared at you and your craziness. "You're delusional if you think you can just move in. You stay in your shrine and I will permit you to visit mine whenever I need you to do my bidding."

A lopsided smile appeared on your face. "I get to visit 5 times a week."

"No."

"Four?"

"Two."

"Three, but I sleep over one night."

"What the- No, two."

"Fine, three and no sleep over."

"Fucking fine. Three it is."

He grumbled, annoyed by the progression of events. He figured it wouldn't be so bad to turn you into one of his pawns. He could use you one day.

Definitely...

----------

Of course, you never listened to him. You went over to his shrine more than what you agreed on. He hated it at first, but then he couldn't really do anything.

He could wipe you off of this planet with a stroke of his finger, but he never did. Even though you annoyed him to no end... he endured it—all of it.

And he wasn't sure why.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sukuna au #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #myoji writes

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jesuistrestriste · 14 hours

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Missing the Mike Faist priest kink era 😭 still wait for the« see you in the next Wednesday service » ahaha I’m wondering if the locals suspects their relation or not( do they see each other outside his service ?)( Is he jealous when he sees other guys flirting with her before his church service starts ? ) 👀

OH MY GOD

an ask about "kneel" ???? im gonna cry

no let's talk about it because i never did a pt. 2 or anything

i think that a majority of the locals don't really suspect that the reader is messing around with the priest (they idolize him + see him as a nonsexual figure), but they do look down on her b/c of her visible promiscuity (i.e. the hickies and etc.)

they might notice her wearing shorter skirts to services, and crossing her legs/squeezing her thighs together incessantly throughout his sermons. someone might even catch a glimpse of soft bruises and red handprints on her ass after she bends over to pick something up in front of them the day after mass. and they're like omg? what is this young lady getting herself into? and who in this town could stand to do such vile, obscene things to her body? (as if it's not their precious priest)

i dont think they see each other outside of services/the church b/c they dont want to risk drawing attention to their "special, secret relationship". but! he does give her his phone number and she calls him sometimes when she thinks too much about him and gets wet :( he has talked the reader through touching herself on multiple occasions. tons of verbally guided masturbation over the phone as she lays on her bed, her hand between her legs, with an opened bible next to her. yeah.

he had gifted her that bible after the second time they had sex. not necessarily to indoctrinate her into the religion, but to give her a representation of something that was important to him. it was his subtle way of trying to connect with her. but it kinda backfired b/c now she gets hot and flushed when she reads the words "God" and "peace" and "faith". he basically pavlov's dog'd her. classically conditioned.

because she lost her virginity to him, she's definitely very attached. she tells him that she isn't, but its a total lie and he knows it too. she gets jealous when women, young or old (doesn't matter), come up to him after services all smiley and ready to talk to him about their problems. reader usually gets red in the face and pouts in the back pew as she watches their interactions closely. she worries a lot that she isn't the only person in the town that the priest is intimate with, but she is. he's fairly attached to her too. and because she's a pretty young woman, divorced dads and older teen boys will often try to flirt with her before the priest's regularly scheduled homily, and he has to gather all the restraint in his body not to insert himself between you and them.

they are very cute + sacrilegious. ugh.

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iliketangerines · 1 day

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Raiden and Kung Lao with a reader that looks like this?? Like she works at madam Bo’s and comes from outworld. Shes fast with her work and now’s the boys orders- tehe

made to order

a/n: can't gang know i fw encanto (i cried during the rewatch of the movie)

pairing: raiden x reader x kung lao

warnings: xenophobia

Raiden and Kung Lao stare at you from their table as you effortlessly put down two waters on the table while taking their order in your other hands at a customer’s table

when Lord Liu Kang had opened up the barrier between Outworld and Earthrealm, there was a never ending flow of people coming from Outworld to explore Earth

people also loved going from Earthrealm to Outworld and last either of them heard, some corporate bigwig was trying to make a tourist industry out of it

but Kung Lao and Raiden supposed it wasn’t so bad as they watch you finish greeting a table with a loud smile and gentle laugh

you glance over at the two of them, tucking a stray strand of water behind your ear, before coming over to them with a big smile

Raiden clears his throat as you ask them how they’re doing today and that you can take their order, and Kung Lao flashes you a smirk, opening his mouth no doubt for a bad pickup line

Raiden elbows Kung Lao in the ribs, trying to do it subtly to stop him, but you catch the action as Kung Lao grunts and shoots a glare at his friend

you just smile and ask if they need any more time, and Raiden quickly says no, saying that they’re just a bit tired from picking cabbage all day

he puts in his order, saying it’s what he usually orders, and Kung Lao quickly puts his in, adding on that hey come here a lot to Madam Bo’s

you snap your fingers together on one of your many hands, and you exclaim that they’re Madam Bo’s prized students

Raiden raises his eyebrows at the statement, Madam Bo talked about the two of them?

Kung Lao just takes the chance to lean in closer to you, saying that yeah they were those students, learned everything they knew about fighting from her

you smile and cock your head, tapping another hand on your chin before you ask them to meet you after your shift, if they're willing

you want to test your skills, and Madam Bo had told you that they were the best fighters in this side of China

they glance at each other, answer already clear in their heads as they both say the same thing in unison: yes

you beam at them with that gorgeous smile and walk away with a wink, putting their food orders to the kitchen

both Raiden and Kung Lao chat, watching you out of the corner of their eyes as you flit around the restaurant putting down plates and pouring glasses of water and taking orders

your arms certainly came in handy for sure

finally, you serve them their meals as you pour them new tea, and you tell them to enjoy their food

Raiden gives you a polite nod, thanking you for the speedy service, and Kung Lao gives you a large smile and tries to say something flirty

except he misjudged where to place his elbow as he leans his head on it and ended up slamming his forehead into the table

you place a hand over your mouth, stifling your giggle, and you nod your head at them before disappearing to serve the next table

Kung Lao rubs his forehead and Raiden ruffles his friend’s hair before going to eat his meal, a casual conversation easily rising between the two of them

several minutes pass, finishing their meal, and they hear a small commotion and look over, finding you looking rather irritated as a man too red in the face points at you

they spot the empty bottles of alcohol, how the spittle flies from his mouth, and then they see how his hand grab onto one of your wrists tightly

the man is shouting insults about how Outworlders don’t belong on Earth and that they should all go home, and Raiden rises up to help

but then, they watch you grab onto the man’s wrist with your other hands, easily pushing his grip out of yours, and bend his wrist back so far they’re surprised the bone hasn’t broken

they hear the man howl in pain, kneeling down to try and relieve the pressure, but all you do is bend his wrist further back with a cold smile on your face

you ask him to repeat his statement, asking if he really wants to test you right now, and he sobs out an apology, begging you to spare him

sighing, you let go of him and tell him to get out of the restaurant, but not before paying

he scrambles, leaving his wallet on the table, and you pick it up, fishing out a generous amount of money and counting through it as you walk over to the counter

you hand over some of the cash to the lady at the register and then pocket some of it for yourself before noticing how Raiden and Kung Lao stare at you

walking on over, you give them a slight embarrassed smile, saying you really wish they didn’t have to see it, but the both of them reassure that it’s fine, that they can’t wait to fight against you

you give them a relieved chuckle and ask them to just stick around a little longer, that your shift is almost over

you take their empty plates away, handing them the check

but not before sending them a flirty wink as you walk away, sending both Raiden and Kung Lao’s heart stuttering

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impale-me-radio-daddy · 3 days

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Reddest Flags, Longest Nights

⩙ Summary: The year is 1989. The Berlin Wall has fallen, and Nintendo have just overseen the release of the Game Boy. The first ever episode of Baywatch has just aired, and Ted Bundy has just been executed by electric chair. Vox's relationship with the Radio Demon is on the rocks. Their solution? To add a third person to their bedroom: you

⩙ Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Vox X reader X Alastor, Radiostatic is a committed relationship (well, they're trying), Reader is a girl and she has a pussy, tentacle sex

⩙ Other notes: This is set in a sexy alternate universe for the characters in @bapple117's Bluest Monday

“I'm not for sale,” you say. It's a truly stupid, suicidal thing to say, with the Television Demon's talons wrapped around your arm, and his associate the Radio Demon watching with amused interest as Vox pulls you into their private booth.

“Come now, dear, that surely isn't true.” It's not Vox who speaks, but Alastor, his tones the same genial, cheerful ones he uses for his broadcasts. “Everyone has a price, after all.”

“Everybody fuckin' wants something, yeah.” Vox agrees, releasing your arm once he's convinced that you won't immediately bolt away. He's not slurring his words, but his movements are clumsier than you would expect. He's drunk, you realize. Both of them are. “People want power. Money. Control.”

“Sex,” says Alastor, flashing a grin at Vox, who makes a noise like someone just tuned him to a dead channel, his face filling briefly with static.

“Shh-yeah, some people want sex, Al. That's a normal fuckin' thing to want.”

Alastor's smile grows, a little smug, a little cruel, and his red eyes turn to you. “What about you, dear? Do you want sex?”

“Al! You can't just fuckin' ask a girl that!”

“Last I checked I was better informed on etiquette than you, old chum,” Alastor's smile slides sideways. “And besides, if our interests align, there's a deal to be had.”

You hadn't come to the club intending to sell anything, but the two demons are adept negotiators- Alastor assuring you that no, he doesn't need your soul per se, just your services, services of a personal, private nature, and aren't you inclined to give those, isn't it in your own best interests? All the while Vox is giving a more direct incentive, the front of his boxy face focused on you, entirely you, dexterous talons skating over the exposed skin of your forearms with enough pressure to make you shiver, with the implied promise that he could touch you in less socially acceptable places, if only you would agree to what the Radio Demon was offering.

You're tempted. You're so, so tempted. You know that this is a bad idea, that these two are bad news to be around, that you should just go back to your normal sinner life, but instead you find yourself leaning in to listen more closely to Alastor's solicitations, and Vox, still touching you, grows bolder, his hand dropping below the table to stroke your thigh.

The top of your thigh at first, skating the seams of your clothes, then dropping to your inner knee, Vox's claw drawing a daring line from your knee and up your inner thigh to your panties.

Your breath hitches, and Alastor tips his head at you, expression amused. “You seem distracted. Would you like me to repeat that last part?”

“Would ya like me to repeat that last part?” asks Vox, his grin as wide as his face and lecherous.

“I can make him stop, if you'd prefer,” says Alastor, with a casual menace.

It's hard to listen to the full terms and conditions with Vox's fingers massaging the fabric of your panties, and maybe that's the intention, but you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop, or even to ask Alastor to ask him to stop.

“What've you got to lose?” says Vox, his heavy box of a head nudging against your shoulder as the pads of his fingers press against your now slick-drenched gusset. Your thighs press together, his hand trapped between.

“Of course,” says Alastor. “If you'd like to think about it-”

“Oh, she's thinkin' about it, Al,” says Vox, his tone laden with filth.

“I'll do it!” you blurt, and both of their faces light like pinball machines. “I mean, yes.”

“Splendid,” chirps Alastor. “Now, as a rule, I will close a deal with a handshake, but for this-”

A kiss.

You've never imagined kissing the most terrifying demon in all of Pentagram city, so you have no idea what to expect, but Alastor's hand on your cheek is a feather light touch, a swirl of green magic around you. His lips on yours are chaste, brushing rather than prying, in stark contrast to Vox, who takes the opportunity to push your panties to the side with his fingers and stroke a slow line along your slick-coated inner lips. You whine against Alastor's mouth, and he slides his hand to the back of your head, holding you there as the deal is sealed.

That’s how you go home with them, Alastor holding the green chain that fastens to the shackle around your neck. Vox drives uptown, away from Voxtek, away from the Radio Demon’s broadcasting tower, and you end up in a quiet, well-appointed apartment in the most nondescript tower block that you have ever seen.

You note the shoe rack; the way that Vox’s shiny black dress shoes are stacked up next to Alastor’s bespoke deer-soled boots, and it occurs to you that this isn’t just Vox’s playboy apartment, as you’d expected. The two of them live together. There is only one bedroom.

“So, what now?” asks Alastor, holding out a gentlemanly arm for you to lean on as you remove your shoes in the entrance. “I believe your suggestion was to try new things, yes?”

“Jesus, Al.” Vox’s sigh is heavy. “We’ll just go to the bedroom, undress, and, uh, see where we go, yeah?”

“See where we go?” Alastor’s voice inflects upwards into his upper registers, the sound of a capacitor about to burst, and you realize that you are in considerable danger.

Alastor is grinning, but his body language is stressed, his ears back, lips pulled back over his gums to show the most of his teeth. In your second possibly suicidal move of the night, you squeeze his arm, where you have been holding him since taking off your shoes.

Alastor’s gaze snaps to you, eyes dangerously red, but there’s uncertainty in the corners of his smile. He kissed you, back in the club, you reason, so he can’t find you entirely objectionable. You lower your gaze, sliding a hand up his forearm, and his ears shift, subtly. He exhales, a little of the tension going out of his chest, and you slide your hand to his upper arm, pushing him back against the coat rack behind him, pressing him against an electric blue shell jacket, and he just lets you.

If Alastor were half a foot shorter you would kiss him, but as it is he stares down at you, his smile a question, until finally he gets what you’re trying to do, and bends his knees fractionally so that you can stand on tiptoes and press your face to his.

You can feel his smile under your lips, parting as you dare to pry, your tongue finding his teeth, and then the tip of his tongue, cautious against yours. You can feel the little shiver of his breath, his hand down your back. At first you think he’s about to slip his hand under your waistband, but instead he spreads his large hand under your ass, cupping it, and lifts you off your feet.

You feel a moment of vertigo, and a swoop in your stomach that is definitely not vertigo as Alastor holds you with your face level to his and slips his entire tongue into your mouth. You took him initially as a conservative kisser, but perhaps he was holding back before. You groan against his lips, feeling heat spread into your lower half as his tongue explores your mouth, the tip probing the roof of your mouth, the soft flesh of the insides of your cheeks. It’s not just the kiss but the feeling of helplessness that it brings, of being held aloft by a being so much more powerful than you. Your knees press the coats either side of Alastor’s waist as he cradles your ass, your tongue lapping against his, eyes closed, arms locking around his shoulders. By the time he breaks the kiss you are gasping, heart pounding in your chest, and Alastor gives you an appraising look.

“You are very small,” Alastor comments, his face a little flushed from the kissing. He doesn’t set you down, however, shifting his forearm under you as you wrap your ankles around his waist, his staff in his other hand.

“Ah, she’ll do fine, Al,” says Vox with a glance over his shoulder, unbuttoning his shirt as he stalks through the living area and into the bedroom. Alastor follows, carrying you as if you weigh nothing.

Seeing the bedroom only serves to solidify your impression that the two of them live here together. There is definitely Alastor’s side of the bed, with red deer themed slippers poking out from underneath, and Vox’s side of the bed, with a digital alarm clock and a special pillow with a square cutout for his head. Two powerful demons, together in secret. It’s enough to make your head spin as Alastor sets you down, gently, on the his side of the bed.

“Alright, let’s fuckin’ do this.” Vox clambers onto the bed, shucking off his shirt, a pause before he reaches you, his hand on your knee. “You too, Al.”

“Must I?” Alastor gives a sideways sort of smile.

“You don’t say that in front of a girl!” barks Vox, and you get the impression he would be pulling his own hair, if he had any. “You’re gonna hurt her feelings or some shit. And yeah, Al, you gotta join in. Otherwise it’s just me fuckin’ a girl on the bed in front of you, and that’s not really a fuckin’ threesome now, is it?”

Alastor smiles thoughtfully. “You did say we would see where we go. I could read a book.”

“Fuck my life,” Vox mutters, flopping back, his boxy head hitting the duvet heavily.

You tug on Alastor’s sleeve again, catching his attention. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m aware,” says Alastor, expression guarded, smile thin. He pauses. “Are your feelings really hurt?”

Your smile is wry. You’d be lying if you said his reticence didn’t hurt, at least a little. “My ego, maybe?”

“Ah.” Alastor looks down at you, and you are caught for a second by just how red his eyes are, like rubies, or pools of fresh blood. His fingers whisper across your cheek, pushing away a strand of hair. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

Tossing his staff onto Vox’s supine form, Alastor climbs onto the bed. He cups your face in his hands and kisses you for the third time that evening, all pretense of propriety gone as he pushes you onto your back, your head onto his pillows and his tongue snaking its way into your mouth. It takes your breath away; you can feel nothing else, only the dance of your tongues and lips, slick with saliva, Alastor’s hands sliding down to your jaw and your neck with the barest pressure. He traces the lines of your arteries, almost absently, and you moan into his mouth as you feel your body respond to him, your pulse growing insistent between your legs. You spread your knees without even thinking about it, your cunt level with his navel as you lie shameless and gasping and red-faced beneath him.

“Now we’re talkin’” Vox grins sidelong at the two of you, propping himself up on his elbows. “You are such a fuckin’ tease, Al.”

“Mm…” Alastor looks down at you, his lips parted and shiny with spit. “I do hope that’s a compliment.”

“Thank you,” you breathe, and Alastor presses a finger lazily to your lips, his eyes narrowing fractionally as if to say no thanks needed.

Vox, meanwhile, is removing your panties. He’s not shy of the Radio Demon’s body either, his hand on Alastor’s flank as he makes the space he needs to get them off. In short order you are naked, your clothing peeled away and the sheets warm against your back, though with the gazes of the two men on you, the room feels far from cold. Vox is down to y-fronts, which his cock strains against valiantly, while Alastor keeps his trousers and shirt, his tie and waistcoat discarded beside the bed.

Vox kisses your breasts, not even trying for your face, Alastor sitting back to give him better access. Vox’s lips are strange, part of the curvature of his front glass and yet not, warm and staticky against your skin, supple as his lips curve around your nipple and suck. His tongue is stranger yet, its sensation alien as the buzzing of fluorescent lights as he traces a circle around your areola and brings your nipple to a shivering point. Vox repeats the action with your other breast, Alastor stroking the vents on the back of his boxy head, his expression unguarded and fond.

“Al-” Vox makes a frustrated noise, his breath hot on your breast. “Pay attention to the girl.”

Alastor smirks, his expression almost flirtatious. “I was,” he says, his eyes meeting yours briefly, “But you and your big head got in the way.”

“Oh for crying out loud, Al.” Vox pinches the top of his frame with two fingers, his other hand on your breast. “There’s plenty to be done here-” Vox’s hand moves down your body, over the softness of your stomach and to your sex, a reassuring squeeze on your hip.

Alastor looks at you, your pink cunt spread open for him, and his brow knits slightly. He’s still touching your leg, hand stroking your shin where it rests against his waist. He’s nervous, you realize. Afraid of fucking up. Afraid of spoiling things.

“Wait-” Vox’s face is thoughtful as he reaches the same conclusion. “You’ve never eaten a girl out, have you?”

“I’ll have you know,” says Alastor, his spine straightening a little. “That I ate two ladies just last week.”

“No, fuck- I mean… eat pussy, Al.”

Alastor raises an eyebrow. “Certainly not!” he pipes. “The taste is revolting, the fur gets stuck in my teeth, and they have too many small bones.”

Vox gives a growl, and you find yourself holding back a laugh. Alastor catches your eye again, his eyes narrowing, red and beautiful as he bends to kiss your knee, a brush of his thin lips. “As my friend here has surmised, I am new to the neighborhood,” he says, his smile a little embarrassed as his gaze travels your inner thigh. “If you would be amenable to showing me around?”

You had expected the Radio Demon to be dominant in the bedroom, to take charge and fill the room with slapping, squelching sounds, but instead he is quiet, his gaze intent as you nervously spread yourself for him. You don’t know what directions he might want, so you hesitate, shrinking back as his eyes seem to drink you in.

“May I?” he asks, and when you nod, he drags a finger through the wetness that seeps viscous from your cunt; a slow, deliberate touch that seems to set every nerve ending in its path aflame. He pulls the finger away, his expression fascinated as a clear string of slick stretches between his finger and your cunt. “How interesting!” he exclaims, before popping the finger in his mouth, eyes closing as he savors your taste.

Vox rests Alastor’s microphone across his knees, impatient. “Al, you’re meant to put your face down there.”

“I’m building anticipation,” says Alastor, his lips a thin smile. “And if you had an ounce of natural showmanship, you would understand that.”

Vox shakes his head, his hands and mouth going back to your breasts, your shoulders and your neck. Vox’s head is too large to comfortably fit in the crook of your neck, but his tongue more than makes up for that, slithering bright across the sensitive flesh of your throat as his claws gently knead your breasts. The biggest side effect of this is that Vox’s large head blocks your view, and you cannot see what Alastor is doing.

There is a cannibal overlord between your legs is the first thought that registers as Alastor’s lips move glacial up your inner thigh. He kisses, he sucks, and he tastes, his fingertips ghosting feather light over your hips and stomach, tracing lines from your navel to your mons.

Vox finally deigns to kiss your mouth as Alastor reaches your cunt. Alastor parts your labia, his long tongue stroking between your folds as Vox’s tongue slips into your mouth, the doubled sensation delicious in its intensity. Alastor’s movements are hesitant, almost conservative, but your cunt is sopping wet enough that even the stripes he licks up your inner labia have you moaning into Vox’s mouth, your hips bucking needy into Alastor’s face.

Alastor’s fingers squeeze into the flesh of your ass, holding you firm as he tends to you, his face pressed firmly into your cunt, lips dragging across slick pink flesh as his tongue probes, a breath of pause between each attempt, his hands weighing how much each teasing lick makes you strain against his grip. His nose brushes your clit, which makes your entire body twitch, and he repeats the action more deliberately a second time.

It’s not long before he has found the most sensitive parts of your anatomy, along with the pattern of touch that best makes you arch your back and cry out. Alastor’s tongue moves back and forth, sweeping hot and wet and divine over you as you spread your knees as wide as they will go, your stomach tightening as you arch your back.

“Holy fuck.” Vox breaks your kiss to look impressed, one clawed hand kneading your chest. “Al, you’re gonna make her cum.”

Alastor doesn’t answer, a primal growl into your cunt, and you cannot answer, the only noise in your throat a mewl of helpless pleasure as Alastor, a man who has spent decades in Hell inflicting pain on souls attacks your nerve endings with a furious precision. You’re going to cum, and you don’t have a choice about it, not with his grip steely on your hips. You want to beg, but your lips can’t even form words as Alastor’s tongue robs you of sense, of language, of decorum, each movement of his mouth sending you hurtling towards the edge. Vox’s hands on you are marginalia to the treatise on pleasure that Alastor’s mouth writes.

It occurs to you, as your orgasm hits, crashing over you and shattering you into pieces, that Alastor might have ruined sex with other men for you. Alastor carries on, tongue pressing into too sensitive flesh through your aftershocks, even as you whine and try to twist away, until Vox touches his shoulder and stops him.

“She’s done, Al,” says Vox, his claws gentle in your hair, and you whimper against the warmth of his chest as Alastor releases you. “Hey, babydoll,” murmurs Vox, the proximity of his screen making the hair on the top of your head stand on end. “You good?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow, language returning to you in bits and pieces, and look at Alastor, who kneels between your legs still, his face glistening with your juices. His eyes are uncertain, and you reach out to him, catching his thin wrists and pulling him to you.

“You’re good at that,” you say, looking up at Alastor as you lie sandwiched between the two of them, Vox’s strong arms around your waist, Vox’s cock pressing into your lower back.

Alastor kisses you, tasting of you, and pulls back, looking pleased with himself. “It’s a lot like torture,” he says, eyes half lidded. “All I need to do is listen to your screams.”

“God fuckin’ damn it, Al,” grouses Vox. “It’s always the horror show stuff with you.”

“God forbid a man have hobbies,” Alastor’s head tilts, but there’s no venom to his reprise. “And for your information,” he adds, a glance at you. “It’s not always torture. I also enjoy dancing.”

You laugh into your hands, the afterglow of your orgasm filling you with a pleasant kind of warmth, and Alastor steals another kiss, grinning all the while.

“What now?”

“Now?” Vox grins, dangerous. “Now it’s your turn, Al.”

Alastor’s smile becomes fixed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Vox’s smile grows wider, and he disentangles himself from you, a crackling kiss to the side of your head. “C’mere.”

Alastor gives an undignified squeak as Vox leaps and tackles him into the bedsheets, dexterous claws on the buttons of his shirt and his fly.

“Impudent! I can undress mysel- mm!” Alastor is silenced as Vox catches his chin and kisses him, open mouthed, long blue tongue lapping your juices from Alastor’s chin, and you watch as Alastor melts for the Television Demon, his shoulders going slack, his shadow splaying itself across the pillows. Alastor’s shirt comes off without complaint, and you crawl over to touch him, your hands on his narrow chest, his shoulders, his arms, as Vox undresses him the rest of the way. Alastor’s heart is beating fast; you can feel it through your hand on his sternum, like a butterfly’s wings beating futile against a glass windowpane, but it slows as Vox kisses his back, and Alastor places a clawed hand over yours. “I suppose you both mean to fuck me,” he says, a little sulkily.

“You tryna say you don’t want that, Al?” Vox’s teeth glow as he grins. “You don’t want me to fuck you as the lovely girl here sucks you off?”

Alastor’s smile purses, but he can’t bring himself to say no, not with you staring up at him prettily and Vox growling sweet nothings into his neck.

His cock stands at attention, the tip red and angry, and you take him in your palms before you get on all fours and take him in your mouth, feeling the quiver that runs through his stomach as your mouth envelops him.

“F-fuck,” Alastor hisses, filter failing, his hand in your hair as Vox’s talons circle his narrow waist. He’s sensitive- you can tell that much from your first few sucks, his precum salty and organic tasting, each movement of your tongue drawing soft noises from his throat. Part of that might be Vox working him open, your position in the bed lowering fractionally as Vox pushes Alastor’s knees apart.

“See, you want it, don’t you Al? Gettin’ completely fucked.” You feel Alastor’s talons tighten in your hair as Vox pushes into him, Alastor’s cock twitching against the back of your mouth, and you breathe through your nose, enjoying the feeling of Alastor coming undone.

“Vox!” Alastor’s voice is tight, high in his register, and Vox slows, stroking him and easing him through sensation, the two demons’ hips moving in tandem as Alastor ruts into your mouth, a strangled noise in his throat.

“Say you like it, say we fuck you good,” Vox growls soft, but the only things coming from Alastor’s mouth are obscenities, his senses overwhelmed by the two of you working together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Alastor’s chest heaves, his eyes screwed shut, his lip bleeding where he has bitten it, his cock hitting the back of your throat with every roll of his hips, a lewd little whimper escaping his lips with the apex of each of Vox’s thrusts.

“There you are,” Vox breathes, seeming to sense Alastor’s imminent climax before Alastor himself. You feel Alastor’s cock swell in your mouth, his grip tightening. “We got you, Al. Let go.”

“Don’t -ngh- tell me what to do,” says Alastor, emptying his load into your mouth, hot and salty. He gasps, and you swallow it down. “Shit.”

“Oh, you’re so good, Al. So fuckin’ good.” Vox’s voice is a groan as he presses his face crackling into Alastor’s hair and starts to fuck him in earnest.

You move your face from Alastor’s cock, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to lay back on the pillows with Alastor’s microphone and watch the show, but instead Alastor grabs your wrists and pins you under him as Vox pushes him to all fours, and Alastor kisses you, unreserved and passionate. He tastes of you, and you of him, small whimpers still escaping him as Vox fucks him. Your fingers are in his hair, over his ears, over his antlers, his thin back, and he holds you to his chest, lips locked with yours as Vox finishes inside him, the three of you shivering with it, the room still in the aftermath.

“Ngh.” Vox’s screen shows a test card for a good twenty seconds. “Fuck.”

“Yes,” Alastor agrees, a slow exhalation as Vox withdraws from him.

The three of you are side by side in the bed for a moment as Vox drops to the sheets. Vox’s breathing is labored, Alastor’s more controlled, and neither of them speak.

Alastor rolls onto his back, turning to Vox. “You’d best wash up.”

“What?” Vox narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“It’s rude,” says Alastor, with a coy smile. “To keep a lady waiting.”

“Oh.” Vox stares at you as if he’s just remembered you are there, face coloring. “Oh. Shit. Yeah. Keep her warm for me, Al.”

Alastor takes his staff back in one hand, and pulls you to him with the other, your head nestled nicely against his bony shoulder as you watch Vox disappear into the bathroom, water running. It feels as if you could both drift off like this, comfortable and satiated, and you almost do, until Alastor’s fingers start tracing a slow line from your knee to your thigh, and your eyes flicker open.

“He’ll be pissy if he finds us asleep,” says Alastor, his tone amused. “So, unless you want to see him blow a fuse-”

You swallow as you feel him part your labia with his fingers, careful with his claws as he drags the pads of his fingers through the slickness that seeps from you. “Is this really the best way to stay awake?”

“Probably not,” admits Alastor. “But it is one of the more entertaining ones, don’t you agree?”

“Very,” you agree, your breath hitching as Alastor’s finger graces the base of your clitoris, drawing a small circle, pressing your flesh against the bone of your pelvis with his fingertips. “I am very entertained right now.”

“A performer is nothing without his audience,” quips Alastor, but his smile seems genuine. You’re wondering how he’s going to manage his claws if he fingers you when he extrudes a long black tentacle from his back. “Open wide now.”

Your legs spread, Alastor strokes your knee, the back of your calf, the arch of your foot, and his tentacle slithers, wrapping fully around the meat of your thigh before its tip teases at your cunt.

He doesn’t penetrate you right away, which is a good thing; ready and willing as you are the tentacle is girthy. Instead, Alastor teases with it, his smile relaxed and his ears pricked as he listens to your breathing, your sighs. Your words, when you are able to use them.

“There, there, just there,” you tell him, and your reward is a squeeze of his hand on your ankle, his breathy voice in your ear, telling you what a good audience you are tonight, how supportive, how participatory. The tentacle moves in tandem with his hand, the tip twirling at your entrance as he strokes the folds of your cunt, dragging slick from your hole up over your clit, coaxing it from its hood, his touch so light that it makes you hold your breath, and then firm, a pressure that has you gasping, moaning so loudly that he holds his microphone to your lips and asks you to repeat yourself.

When Alastor’s tentacle pushes its way into you, you are ready, more than ready, speechless at the girth of it and giving heady little gasps as you feel yourself stretch around him.

“You’d better not reach the climax before Vox gets back,” says Alastor, a soft murmur in your ear as you whimper, senseless against his chest. “He really will blow a fuse if you do that.” He’s enjoying himself, you realize. He’s playing with you, his smile relaxed as he manipulates your body to his liking.

But you are already mounting the summit, your body helpless in Alastor’s clutches. He barely needs to use his fingers, not with the tentacle pressed into you, an obscene squelching noise as he curves it in and out of you; Alastor simply holds his fingertips over the tip of your clit and lets the motion of the tentacle do the rest of the work, each brush of contact with the exposed nub of flesh like a lick of flame across your nerves that makes you cry out, over and over, until your throat is hoarse with it.

You cum as Vox returns, a spasm through your body, your cunt fluttering around Alastor’s tentacle, and the Radio Demon grins at Vox.

If Vox’s eyes weren’t just images displayed on his screen, they would be bulging right now. He stares. Alastor grins at him.

“Al.” Vox’s lips are an annoyed line as he watches Alastor pull his tentacle out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing. “How the fuck am I meant to compete with that monster?” His cock is well proportioned to his frame, but it’s nothing compared to the tentacle. You look between the two demons, hoping they’re not going to fight.

Alastor’s grin widens. “You’re a resourceful man, Vox. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Vox shakes his head as he climbs back on the bed. “You’ve always gotta fuckin’ upstage me, huh.”

“That’s why you like me so much,” says Alastor. “Isn’t it?”

“Ah, fuck you, Al,” says Vox, all bark, and Alastor beams at him.

Alastor pulls you on top of him, your back to him, and hooks his chin over the top of your head, so that you both face Vox when he climbs atop you, on his hands and knees.

Vox kisses you, softly, hand cupping your face, and you feel Alastor’s sound of approval through your back, the low hum of an electrical appliance.

“You ready, babydoll?” Vox asks, and when you nod, he pushes into you.

You feel him. Your orgasm has made you tender, Alastor’s tentacle has made you tender and you feel every inch of Vox as if your cunt were just made yesterday, shipped direct from the factory.

“Oh fuck, that’s nice babydoll.” Fragments of test card float on Vox’s screen as he pauses, in you to the hilt. “You feel fuckin’ nice. Fuckin’ soft, god.”

You feel Alastor huff into your hair with amusement, and he reaches for your legs, pulling up your thighs and then your knees, pulling your legs flush with your chest; a mating press for you and Vox.

Vox grins, his hands joining Alastor’s on the underside of your knees, and he fucks you in earnest.

That his cock is smaller than Alastor’s tentacle doesn’t matter one bit, not when you’re pressed like this, his cock able to reach the deepest parts of your tender cunt with ease. He fucks you, and you cry out; not the mewling whimper you had before but a full throated cry that escapes you at the apex of each thrust, your throat already sore, your voice cracking, but crying out regardless.

Vox’s monologue is all sweet, sweary nothings- you’re doing so good babydoll, so wet for me, so soft, so good, so fuckin’ good and Alastor’s commentary is drier- do you think you’ll be able to walk again after this? Now that’s a scream worthy of my studio, all the while you are crying out, tears in your eyes, a pressure in your abdomen, Vox hammering into the most sensitive parts of you, over and over and oh.

Your cunt flutters again, Vox growling a good girl before his seed floods into you in hot, pulsing waves.

You lie there, boneless, seeing stars, the three of you breathing hard. Vox drops his face onto your chest, and you stroke his hot vents, as you’ve seen Alastor do. Alastor lets go of your legs, a kiss to the top of your head.

“Fuck,” murmurs Vox.

“Seconded,” you croak.

“Mm,” buzzes Alastor. “Quite.”

Vox rolls off you, and you roll off Alastor, the three of you side by side on the bed, points of contact between you; your leg crossing Alastor’s thigh, Vox’s arm across your stomach.

It is a long, hazy moment before Vox sits up, digging through the dresser on the Vox side of the bed, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

“In the apartment?” Alastor complains, sleepy.

“It’s a fuckin’ special occasion, Al,” says Vox, leaning over you to place a cigarette between Alastor’s smiling lips. Alastor takes it, and Vox lights it, before offering the box to you. “You smoke?” he asks.

If you didn’t already, it was a hell of a time to start.

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emptyjunior · 6 hours

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I know that tumblr feels a bit of superiority over tiktok, twitter, instagram and like they Should, holding on to a dash that is directly designed by you and your fellow bloggers gets infinitely more valuable by the day and we should be proud of keeping that (cause it Is something that needs to be fought for constantly!) but can I say I don't like the attitude that everyone else on every other app is dumb and they're all normies and we're the smart ones.

Like there are people who enjoy making video content! And they should have a place where they are safely able to do that. People should be able to discuss topics that are close to them like grief, sex, gender, they should be able to review scary movies and silly horror without any of that being watered down so that the app can still sell itself to advertisers. Musicians should be able to share their music without two distant corporations making deals that silence them and destroy their income. People should be able to share tiktoks criticising their government without a bill passing instantly to silence them

People should be able to use an app that is extremely beneficial to artists and fans without a megalomaniac buying it and finding ways to paywall every feature of a website that was already functional. Minors should be able to comment on the tv show they're watching without the replies being flooded with a robot sending them pornographic images.

People should be able to use the search function on their app without it being a literal AI chatbot?? They should be able to post art they care about and build an audience without it being scraped for parts. You should be able to just find things you're interested in without the person you want to see having to participate in a tier based subscription service to be able to be seen by you.

The users of these apps aren't 'foolish' because they weren't smart enough to try tumblr. It isn't a win every time they take a hit and their app gets marginally worse. It's sad!!! And it isn't right! Yes maybe they would enjoy it if they just abandoned what they're on and came here but they shouldn't have to! We shouldn't want them to! We should never want anyone to cede any space or resources to the hungry bastards that want to take advantage of people's online communities.

Like I'm not asking every tumblr user to get up in arms and fight for influencers on tiktok, you've got your own battles here and they've got theirs there but just reminding people that if you gloat about someone else's website getting suck-ier you are applauding the person doing that to them

#sorry if this is telling off tone #i want it to be Gentle Reminder tone #and also a Get Angry at the Right People tone #tumblr #tiktok #instagram #social media #twitter #x #text post

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void-bitten-ghost · 3 days

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Has anyone written that one Stolitz fic where Blitz finds the scars under Stolas' feathers and has a bit of a break down?? Asking for a me

Because can you imagine? They're acting like it's a normal full moon getting all hot and heavy, Blitz ignoring his worry and guilt in the only way he knows how. By constantly moving forward and rushing ahead, his acts of service doing the talking for him because the words that need to be said are like sand in his throat, coarse and thick and choking and he knows they'll kill him on the way out

He's doing well, he thinks, until his hands find something on Stolas' shoulder. A texture that absolutely was not there before and he's parting the feathers and staring at the distinct mark of a blade on his invincible bird and being reminded that that's not quite right, is it? He can be hurt. He can be sliced up and in pain and at the mercy of someone other than him and that fact sends him careening off some sort of edge. He has to fix it, he has to undo the bad with so much good that Stolas forgets the pain, transfers it into Blitz so that he can carry it instead because Fuck. He almost died. He was almost taken in every way that matters and he couldn't do shit about it because his daughter comes first. His daughter always comes first and Stolas understands that. But fuck, that doesn't stop him from moving, biting over the mark, secretly trying to brand Stolas as his again because the next time he sees Striker that is a dead imp walking

#stolitz #fic recs #fic asks?#please if it exists send it my way 🙏#stolas #blitzø

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scenetocause · 17 hours

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This isn't a kiss prompt but I didn't know who else to send it to. Given you're into fisting would you ever write urethral play? Rule 63 pretty please and ignore this if it's not your thing!!!! Thank you for your service 💋

anon i need you to know this is the most horrifically targeted ask in history and i am found out. called out. seen. it's taken me days to respond because i'm having conniptions. let's all never meet at the satanic ritual again if you sent this no you didn't if you read this no you didn't i absolutely definitely didn't write it.

this seemed to fit very perfectly to pussy exploring champion genders maxy. warnings for what this is and inevitably a bit of piss.

Luisa says no straight away, tells Lando to watch more normal porn. He looks suitably ashamed of himself but also directly at Max, who hasn't replied yet.

"Err," she's not. Well she's seen it, obviously, back in the Formula Renault days when everyone was trying to one-up each other about what they'd whacked one out to. But she doesn't think about that type of thing too often, now. Doesn't exactly need to.

"You are not," Luisa looks scandalised. "No way."

"I dunno," Max argues. "It's - well. It's interesting, maybe?"

Luisa makes a very disgusted sound, like she's about to call them both idiot boys but doesn't want to offend Max. "Not when I'm here. Could you get back to-" she gestures between her own legs - "now, please?"

It's something Max is beyond happy to do, especially when Lando slides up behind where she's bent over, sticks his dick in Max's pussy while her tongue's up Luisa's, fitting perfectly between them.

It's a few weeks later when the opportunity presents itself. Luisa's away, Lando's received a few suspiciously plain parcels, Max is feeling restless and horny but doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of riding his dick for a second time in a day. Bloke wins one race and thinks he's got free use or something.

Max might let him. One day. For a weekend or something. If he wins a championship. For now, though, she's curious about this.

When Lando pushes her back into the duvet, one of his hands behind her waist to maneuver her so she's settled nicely against the pillows, it feels like the right time to ask. To shimmy her legs around his, so she can hook her ankles behind his thighs and hold him there, just in case actually saying it makes either of them nervous.

In the end she can't quite get it out, anyway. "Do you want to try - putting something up. You know?"

"Fuck." Lando clearly wasn't expecting her to ask that, has to collapse on her a bit. "Fuck, really? Yeah - yeah, if you want to."

"If it's shit we can do something else, yeah?" Everything on PornHub was a bit rancid, Max is pretty sure she's not going to be doing any of that. But it's nice when Lando tongues her there, sometimes. Weirdly soothing, if her cunt's a bit achey from fucking.

Lando moans into her collarbone, kisses her under the ear before a breathy confession. "I'm glad it's you - I knew she wouldn't really be, y'know."

There's a thing, with them. That they do stuff together, sometimes and it's different from with Luisa. When they're all fucking it's great, so good but sometimes Max and Lando almost try stuff on, before they take it to her. Just to get the knack first, really.

"Better get, y'know. And a towel." Kicking him off the bed to go and find everything feels a bit mean but also fuck is Max going to do it herself. It gives her time to kick off her own shorts, leave her in a soft, comfy crop top Lando can see her nipples through, anyway.

When he gets back he drops some stuff on the bed, kneels back to take his own shirt off. It's a nice view, lot of abs and shoulders and Lando's tight, dark nipples. He's so built now and Max can't really bring herself to get jealous about it, with her own body to explore, these days.

Lando wastes no time in pushing her thighs apart, big hands spanning them. His thumbs are massaging the crease, spreading the outer lips of her pussy immediately and she can feel where she's wet with anticipation, the slide easy.

"Towel." She can't be bothered to do laundry after this, is pretty sure she'll want Lando to hold her.

He shakes his head like he's trying to snap himself out of something. "Right, yeah."

Lando picks one of her thighs up, props it on his own hip while he's dipping his fingers beneath her hips, rubbing them over Max's arsehole. "I'm gonna start here."

"Well it's not there." Surely he knows that?

"Nope." Lando looks smug and ashamed at the same time. "I wanna fuck you here."

It punches the air out of her, sometimes. The way Lando wants her, wants Max. He's got a bit of a thing for anal anyway but because they did this before, when Max was a boy, it always feels natural with them.

"Ok, yeah."

It's so nice, wet fingers playing over her and dipping inside, she almost forgets they're not just doing that this afternoon. Feeling stretched around Lando's fingers isn't as good as his cock but it gets her in a relaxing kind of mood, concentrating on making the tension leave her body, letting the anticipation build.

"Your arse is so good." It's a bit embarrassing how basic compliments still get her - of course her arse is great, Lando's lucky he gets to do it but appreciation is always nice.

"C'mon," she wants her clit touched, feeling wet and swollen.

Lando doesn't do that, although he takes his fingers out of her arse, carefully wipes them on the towel underneath her, then frowns and gets up to go and wash them in the sink.

For a minute, she thinks maybe it was messy and wants to die a bit, making a questioning noise when he gets back.

"No - just. Should be sterile, innit?" Oh, yeah. Max doesn't really want to be pissing blood any time soon. It's nice, that Lando cares this much about her. Makes it easy to part her legs, wide and prop them a bit like an uncomfortable doctors appointment, much easier with Lando's thumb rubbing over her clit.

He wriggles down on his belly, disappearing from her view and Max closes her eyes, tries not to think too much about the view he's got. Her arse, glistening with lube and still twitching a bit from the intrusion. Her pussy, puffed up with how turned on she is and sopping wet where he's spreading her open, looking inside.

It makes her gasp, when she feels that he can see it, from the sudden air. It almost makes her want to pee but then Lando's mouth is there, wet and as soothing as she remembered it.

The catch of the tip of his tongue over it makes Max blush. It feels very possible, suddenly, that something could go up there. When Lando sucks on it a bit, gentle and warm, she wants to relax it, pee in his mouth just a tiny bit and it's a weird, mortifying thought that drags a harsh noise out of her, shocked at herself.

The exhale makes her let go, just a tiny bit and then nearly try to scramble off the bed, if Lando hadn't been there to hold her down with his hands round her hips.

He looks at her, aggrieved and with a wet face. "You know I am trying to make you do that?"

"Oh." She'd sort of known - you can't get round piss being a bit involved, can you? But not in his mouth, maybe. Should've know Lando's a fucking freak.

"Relax, Maxy." She settles back and he dives back in, licking her all over for a few minutes before getting back to sucking over her peehole, soft and warm.

This time it's more deliberate, when she relaxes. It's not a lot, not even a dribble, really, just a few drops from her opening up for him.

Lando grunts in satisfaction, stops sucking to lick over her, dipping his tongue further into her pussy. It feels a bit urgent, suddenly, to get attention there or to piss properly.

"C'mon, do the thing."

"Yeah?" Lando sounds a bit gargly, like he is on team radio sometimes. "Can I put it in you?"

He sounds so hopeful Max forces herself to stay relaxed, not tense up with anticipation. "You can try. Y'know, with lube."

The sound Lando's got in his hand isn't big - probably the smallest he could order, with a safely rounded tip. Max is pretty sure that's her limit, isn't interested in anything that would stretch her out there, just something that will fit.

Lando sloshes so much lube it feels like her pussy is squelching and it takes him a moment to get a good enough grip to open her back up, with the forefinger and thumb of his left hand, while he's aiming.

Trying to relax, feeling the round tip of the sound against her, she feels the hot splash of some piss escape her and Lando uses all those F1 reaction times to push it forward, just inside.

It's. So weird. Nothing like her arse or her pussy, almost feels like she can feel it in her clit. Makes her wriggle down, get her legs further apart and-

"More." She sounds hoarse, embarrassed and Lando just hums like he's mesmerised, fucks the sound a little deeper.

She feels the moment when it's in, partly as relief that the ball part is past and only the smooth, silicone stick is being squeezed and partly as a rush of heat between her legs, leaking.

It must make her make a noise, although Max isn't sure she could've heard herself over the blood rushing through her ears. Still, Lando responds. "It's so hot. Fuck, Max, does it hurt?"

Sort of, would be her honest answer. It's not comfortable, at the same time as it feels incredible. Filthy, special, like she's going to come insanely hard as soon as Lando does anything else to her.

"Not really. Not, like, bad. I like it." It feels shocking admitting that, almost the same gut-punch as when she'd had to say the opposite about racing.

Lando tuts. "I'm going to-" he tugs on the sound, gentle. "Take it out. Want to get you off."

She doesn't have the words to say that'll probably do it. That she might come when he's pulling it slowly out. By some miracle, she doesn't because Lando's mouth is back there, suddenly. His right thumb, freed from holding the sound, is on her clit and she's definitely wetting, a little bit, when her thighs clamp around his head while she's shaking through it.

When she lets him go Lando drags himself up like he's just done a brutal workout. His face is red with heat or horny or both and his mouth is dripping, goatee soaked.

"Fuck, I'm not gonna be able to-" he's shoving his joggers off, cock springing free with a spider-web trail of precome to the fabric. "I'm - fuck, Max."

He's coming over her pussy, splattering her pubes, before he's even really got a hand on himself, fingertips loosely rubbing himself through it.

Lando moans, collapsing on the bed next to her. "I know we've got to - give me a minute."

She rolls over, pulls his face against her tits. "Thank you, buddy."

Lando makes a sort of affectionate noise, burrowing into her chest. "Can't believe - yeah, good. So good, actually."

He runs her a bath, when she gets up to pee. Sits behind her in it until they're both pruning and the water's getting cool, their bodies warmer than what's around them, pressed together.

#emptyhalf fic #sorry everyone who is waiting for kiss prompts i was distracted by being read for filth

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