hi! i'm pluto, and i made this account to post about my writing and fandoms !
â my ao3 â my ko-fi â
there will occasionally be suggestive / nsfw content on here
asks are welcome! either writing requests or whatever you want to say to me :) request guidelines here
i'm a fan of a bunch of stuff, but here are some big ones for me that i'll probably post or reblog about pretty often
â doctor who â westworld (2016) â marvel (mainly movie & tv universes) â dc (superbat and batfamily + nolanverse) â grishaverse â baldur's gate 3 â house of the dragon â the last of us (tv) â the sandman â the hunger games universe â the owl house â cookie run kingdom â legend of zelda â pokĂŠmon â riordanverse â arcane
â plus a variety of other shows, movies, books, games, etc.!
i do my best to spoiler tag things, especially new things, and my full list of how i tag spoilers for different fandoms can be found here
tag directory:
â #my writing - anything i've written, including little headcanon posts
â #my fics - links to my fics on ao3 and updates on them
â #my stuff - all posts i've made that aren't reblogs
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
rocky always yells âenrichment for grace! enrichment for grace!â when he has a new invention to make the humans time more interesting on erid. grace, while appreciative, replies âI know Iâm in a zoo enclosure but could we maybe not call it that? I feel like a bear getting thrown a pumpkin covered in peanut butter.â rocky simply gives him a thumb, not wanting to explain that a significant amount of the population sees grace as the celebrity savior scientist who rocky keeps as a controversially young trophy wife and publicly lavishes in gifts
i hate that when you try and look up shit for writing purposes it starts linking suicide hotlines and addiction advice articles like bro i just wanna know the information im not killing myself i promise. now tell me what i wanna know
Everyone knows the first day of Friend Graceâs class is nickname day. Itâs the day when every pebble is on their best behavior to try and make sure they get a cool nickname, something unique that they can brag to their friends and classmates about.
Sometimes, Grace will do it without thinking. Thatâs how Kiddo and Buddy got their nicknames. Often, Grace will nickname students after their coloration. Gaia got his nickname because heâs blue and green, and apparently looks a lot like Earth. Violet got hers because sheâs purple. (She was initially disappointed since color means nothing to Eridians, but then Friend Grace showed them violet flowers and said that humans often associated purple with wealth and royalty, and she changed her tune.) Most of the time, Grace will give his students what he calls âregular human namesâ like Abby, Carl, or Martin.
But the most coveted nicknames are ones named after Earthen creatures. When âŠâŞâŹ đľ âŠâŞâŹ đľ first introduced themselves, Friend Grace immediately perked up and shouted âRobin!â After a bit of explaining himself and a few videos of bird calls, Robin was trilling and chirping happily, excited at having a nickname that felt like a 1-to-1 translation of their own.
Even well after Friend Grace is gone, his legacy remains. A hundred years into the future, when humankind finally launches a new ship with the express purpose of properly meeting their Eridian neighbors, one of the first messages exchanged is âHello! My name Robin.â
In 2026, the chicest thing a gay actor can do is never explicitly come out as gay but also make it abundantly clear that he is. Coming out is too modern. Staying closeted is too old fashioned. But this method merges contemporary freedom with Old Hollywood glamour and allure, and it weeds out the dumbest people who truly donât get it. I call it the Pascal Method.
You clearly don't go here or to queer history and signaling, or both, enough to have this conversation and I'm not going to explain it to you. You could have asked questions, you could have done even a modicum of research. You didn't and you made yourself look ignorant. Goodbye.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
if it was harder then / it will be better now
for i am here and changed / i couldn't tell you how
there before the / grace of god go i / laughing to myself
forgetting what about
credit to @novagif for the beautiful image!
tags: dark and religious themes (aka blasphemy) [dead dove do not eat!], ddba!dex x nun!reader, explicit sexual content, catholic guilt, sadomasochism, power play, corruption k*nk, dex & reader are both virgins duh :3, implied age gap (reader in 20s-early 30s), dry humping, fingering (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v (4 the love of gawd wrap it up), praise and edging (both receiving), perv!switch!dex (well, yes!), creampie, c0ckwarming, use of "sister" as a pet name (twice; not in sexual context), catholic imagery obv, intentional lowercase, low key religious crisis bc dex is that hot (same gf)
summary: nun!reader finds benjamin poindexter at the altar of her church seeking absolution. âŞ
"i need absolution. i've betrayed people. i've betrayed myself."
his voice skittered across your skin like a flat stone across still waters. the hairs raised on the back of your neck.
your kind eyes widened as the large man turned around to face you, sporting a knife between his fingers. the flickering candlelight from the altar distorted his features slightly, but you made out a wide, jagged scar across his right cheekbone. his brow made a crease in his forehead as curious, fiery eyes studied you. he was in his late thirties or early forties, years decorating his skin. you tried not to entertain the thought that he was handsome.
"can you absolve me of my sins?"
you cleared your throat, heartbeat thrumming in it. "uh, i'm afraid only priests can do soâ"
the stranger grinned something wicked, still spinning the silver weapon expertly in his hands. he held it out into the rays of light to purposely catch your gaze. "i'm not too picky."
your eyes stole to the confessional tucked away along the right wall of the church.
"yes. somewhere quiet."
he lumbered toward it, steps heavy on the marble floor like his skeleton couldn't handle the amount of muscle on his body. you followed dutifully, still on your guard given the presence of the knife.
it was late in the evening, almost morning, so the church was mostly empty save for a few lost souls remaining scattered among the pews. the sun had set hours ago, so only the candlelight from the altar lit the room, reflecting off the stained glass windows pleasantly. this was typically when you'd come to pray, but as you were a novitiate, you could use all of the guidance opportunities you could get.
your hand closed around the knob of the left side door and turned, pulling it open to be hit in the face with the scent of myrrh. you nearly coughed, instead letting out a gasp when the stranger slipped in the left side compartment behind you.
"don't worry, i closed the other door."
the smirk on his face stretched too easily. if you weren't nearly a nun, you were certain you'd have put hands on him.
"excuse me, sir, you must goâ"
a raised thick eyebrow silenced you as he turned fully towards you. "ain't going anywhere, sister."
you sighed, realizing defeat, and sat down on the bench cushion a few feet away. "i'm not a nun yet. you needn't call me 'sister.'"
"that's why you're in white?" dex remembered sister maggie's black veil well.
you nodded, gaze falling to your twiddling fingers. your veil was stark white, contrasting to the rest of your benedictine black habit, covering your hair and ears to promote modesty. it also signified that you hadn't yet taken your final vows as a nun.
"what brings you to our congregation seeking penance?"
you met his eyes, peering up through your bare eyelashes, and dex's rusty heart stumbled in his chest. after weeks of watching you from afar, he was stunned close up. the tip of the knife he was playing with sunk into his left index finger and he barely registered the pain, entranced by your natural beauty and sincerity.
dex was acutely aware of the amount of space he took up in the confessional room. quite frankly, it was most of it. he loomed over you, craning his neck to fit into the room properly.
something about the way you were looking up at him from your seat had dex's buzzing mind wandering toward desire â something he rarely indulged himself in.
christ. a nun, dex? really?
the taboo of it all had dex's blood pumping faster in his veins. he cleared his throat. "i wish to be free of this guilt."
"guilt for what, mr�"
"call me dex," he said, moving a few inches further into the confessional. his scent invaded your nose: a clean, woodsy, musky fragrance.
the red and black gems clinked together on the silver rosary chain as you clenched your left fist tight around it, making the sign of the cross over your chest. you kissed your fist, eyes closed, murmuring a silent prayer to st. teresa of calcutta for guidance to help serve others. she had never led you astray before. you willed yourself to take a steady breath and look dex in the eye.
"how does this go�" dex trailed, baiting you to give him your christian name. you gave it willingly, voice dancing along the incense-threaded air. he repeated it, chewing on it like sinful bubblegum.
you crossed your legs at the sound, squeezing your thighs together, creating accidental, delicious friction under your skirts. with your hands folder over the top, you were certain it went undetected.
you didn't know benjamin poindexter.
he certainly knew you.
dex's eye twitched with the effort of remaining still. his gaze â now hooded â dragged slowly, intentionally, from your clasped hands up your torso, as if he could see straight through the black scapular and habit that covered your holy skin. you felt exposed; laid bare for his hungry eyes to behold you.
clearing your throat, you felt a stubborn blush creep up your neck as dex's focus reached your face.
"t-typically, in confession, a priest will sit on this side while the patron receives penance from the attached room." you gestured to the screen that separated the rooms on the left wall.
"why would i want to go in there to repent when the pretty girl who's gonna save my soul is in here?" he asked, a wild glint reflecting in his eye.
you let out a nervous laugh, blush creeping higher and higher.
dex fell to his knees like a sack of bricks and you swore you heard them crack against the wood floor beneath the worn persian carpet. he held out the small throwing knife to you with both hands in offering, desperately blinking up at you. your delicate fingers closed over his, softly folding over the blade edge as if he were trustworthy.
your sweet voice was melodic in dex's ears. "you'll begin with: 'forgive me, father, for i have sinned.'"
he swallowed, watching your carotid pulse in your neck a little too attentively. his pink tongue darted out to wet his lips, a smirk growing on them. he couldn't believe his own boldness.
"forgive me, father," he repeated with a deep sigh, near short of breath, mind far from christ, "for i have sinned."
"when was your last confession, dex?"
"i've never had the honor, sweetheart," he chuckled, smirk widening at the thought. "you'll be taking my confessional virginity."
your complexion burned shades darker, averting your bashful eyes at his insinuation. your voice squeaked when you spoke.
"oh, okay, well in that case, you may state that for his lordship's ears."
"gladly." you got a perfect view of his muscular throat as dex's head tilted back, adam's apple bobbing. you'd reprimand yourself later for wondering what it might feel like under your lips. "it's my first time, big 'G'. thanks again for sending me your loveliest angel."
dex threw you a charming wink and your lips twitched into a smile.
"i-i thank you f-for your kind words," you stammered.
dex's hands, brandishing the knife and holding your own with a grip you could've escaped, eased into your lap. his chest brushed your knees from his position kneeling on the floor, only centimeters apart now.
"forget about it."
a beat passed. "and if i don't want to?"
another stretch of silence. this time longer, as dex tried to wrap his mind around the situation he found himself in. his greenish gaze bore into yours, flaying you alive layer by layer. a long-forgotten, now-forbidden feeling stirred in your core.
"then don't."
the air in the compact room seemed to still, as if bating it's breath in anticipation. you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.
"i won't," you whispered, reaching out cautiously to trace his cheek scar. dex froze, soaking in the feeling of your warm, soft, little fingers dancing patterns on his abused skin. he couldn't breathe â not with you touching him, looking at him like he mattered. you could tell he wasn't used to grace.
"tell me your sins, baby," you coaxed softly, comforting him the best way you could think of.
a quiet groan slipped from that back of dex's throat before he could stop it, one of raw pleasure from the pet name.
"hnnâŚfuck."
"language," you challenged with a dignified, raised brow, despite the disgraceful wetness dripping onto your panties.
"yes, ma'am," dex responded, vast shoulders straightening slightly. his voice rumbled through you deliciously. your knees pressed into his abdomen with how close he leaned now.
benjamin poindexter's eyes flickered back and forth between your kissable lips and the ornate crucifix carving in the wall behind you, and that was the moment he was certain he was going to hell.
you cleared your throat, shifting in your seat again, trying to subtly relieve the tension between your thighs. dex, with his hawk eyes, saw every movement for exactly what it was.
and it was true what they said about him: he did get obsessed fast.
"my sinsâŚ" he mused.
"tell me," you prodded eagerly, eyes wide open in youthful anticipation. "tell me the first one that comes to mind."
dex's blonde brows knit together as if he were in pain, leaning into your hand. "wanna kiss you."
your mouth made an "o," plump lips giving dex horrific ideas. you swallowed slowly, feeling sweat begin to bead under the heat of his gaze. shame gnawed at your ankles like a stray animal.
dex pulled you by the wrist within an inch of his face. "now, you can be honest. you can confess. d'you wanna kiss me, sweet girl?"
your teeth sunk into your fat bottom lip in indecision, guilt paralyzing you. what would god think?
"yeah, that's it, i know you do. you can say it, honey. it won't leave this room. you can say you want me, too, 's alright."
a pitiful, borderline-submissive "yes" fell from your divine mouth and dex felt religious all of a sudden. a sick smile settled on his handsome face, eyes fluttering shut in a moment of absolute peace. he was on the righteous pathâhe was certain.
with no warning, his mouth swept yours up in an exchange of breath and lips and teeth and tongue. you moaned into the kiss â by god, when was the last time you were properly kissed?
the hand you had on dex's cheek slid back into his graying-blonde hair, fingernails gently scratching his scalp. he steeled himself to hold back a moan.
you broke away first, fingers wrapped in rosary ghosting over your swollen lips like a salve. "shit."
dex laughed.
a real, honest-to-christ-himself laugh.
and when the light caught his white, bunny-like smile just like that as he glanced back to you, cupid released his bow, and you were done for.
"tell me," dex's straight nose nudged yours, teasing, "how about you pray for us while i kiss your neck a little?"
"yes." the word tumbled out and you couldn't have stopped it. you were blushing to your hairline by now.
god help you.
dex grinned, highlighting his handsome crows' feet. before you could blink, he switched your positions, so you were now sitting on his lap and he was sitting on the confessional cushion. with no room on the sides to settle properly, your knees bit into his tree-trunk thighs. you heard the thunk of the knife as it fell onto the carpet.
he wasted no time before his lips were back on yours and your head was spinning. your lips clashed together, mouth opening wider so his tongue could dip in and explore. you whined softly into him as an experiment, feeling dex's hold on your waist get tighter, lips get hungrier.
dex's sinful mouth tore across your jaw with abandon. you unconsciously ground your hips against his rhythmically. his cock stirred, already half-hard. shame had you nearly in tears, the stimulation from grinding only adding to your frustration.
he groaned against your delicate skin, tongue licking and swirling, teeth skating and biting over the sweet spot on your neck he found. you arched your chest into his frame.
his whispered plea traveled straight to your cunt, "pray, baby."
you squeezed the rosary beads around your left hand â an anchor of reality â as you looked up and begged st. francis to forgive you on behalf of god. surely he knows better than anyone that you're simply following god's path as it's been laid out for you.
"o-our father, who art in heaven, h-hallowed be thy name."
your voice wavered with pleasure, though somehow not missing a beat even when mischievous fingers teased the hem of your skirt, flirting with your ankle.
"thy kingdom come." a shaky breath loosed through your chest.
"thy will be done, on earth as it is in hâ" you bit the inside of your cheek to suppress a moan at the friction against your core, exhaling sharply through your nose. dex smiled against your tender skin. "heaven."
"âŚ'and lead us not into temptation,'" he chorused with you, kissing and suckling just below your ear.
"'but'âŚwhat?" dex cooed patronizingly, kitten-licking your earlobe. you were a mess in his arms, purely pliant for him to use and you both knew it.
your traitorous lower lip wobbled as you finished the prayer with him:
"but deliver us from evil. amen."
his cock throbbed below you and dex pulled his leeching mouth off you. a chill raced down your spine at the way his blown pupils drank you in, getting a glimpse of the thing that shifted just beneath his skin and near-black eyes.
you didn't flinch, dex noted.
the calloused fingers playing at your ankle dragged upward, slipping under the fabric and ghosting over your nylon-covered skin, testing the waters. your lashes fluttered shut at the sensation, a gasp stealing into your lungs.
"i confess," dex sighed, "i want more than your lips."
your eyes shot open, brow furrowed in confusion. why? what could he want from you?
before you could raise your concern, dex's hand trailed up your calf, sending electricity through his touch. you were breathless as you maintained eye contact with him, noses inches apart, breathing the same air. your skirt bunched around your waist as dex burrowed further under it, dragging his enormous hand over your knee. your blasphemous core churned and you ground down onto his zipper. the metal bit into your cunt, pulling a moan that sounded like angels singing from you. dex grinned in triumph, climbing higher on your thigh until he reached the lacy edge of your stockings.
his hawk eyes snapped to your thigh, a slow, wolfish smile gracing his features. he looked back up at you without raising his head, words low and broken in your ears.
"tell me you're wearing a fucking garter belt."
he reached the strap connecting the alleged belt to your stockings and hummed down at you, like you were food to play with. a finger slipped between the strap and your smooth, holy skin, and pulled it away just far enough to snap back against your skin audibly.
fth.
it echoed loud â too loud â in the confessional. you bit a sigh as he soothed the reddened skin with brushes of his thumb.
"i may be," you whispered, inhaling sharply as he released the taut strap against your thigh again.
fth.
"fuck," dex sighed, nearly vibrating in restraint. he crashed his mouth to yours before he did something he probably wouldn't regret.
dex's lips were suffocating on you, not realizing his punishing intensity, but dutiful as you were to your congregants, you took what he was willing to give. his rough grip on your plushy thighs would certainly leave bruises in it's wake, but desire had you drunk enough that you couldn't care less.
his soul needed this. you could feel it.
perhaps it truly was god's will that brought the two of you together.
that's what you told yourself over and over again, trying to drown out the whine that stretched through the silence when dex pushed your hips away from his and slipped his hand the remaining distance downward to cup your cunt.
oh.
"shh, stay quiet, pretty girl," dex bit out, feeling blood rush to his cock at the feeling of the soaked lace. "you don't wanna get caught, do you?"
you shook your head 'no' fervently, but felt your cunt betray you, clenching around nothing at the idea.
"mm, maybe you do?" dex teased, cocking his head like a curious dog. you continued to deny it despite your hips' constant bucking, chasing any friction you could get.
his rumbling laugh seemed to echo through you as his fingers ghosted over the bead of your swollen, covered clit. your breath caught in your throat, sparks of pleasure blinding you as dex studied your reactions intensely.
"right there, honey?"
"yes," you exhaled, floating. utter pleasure washed over your face, creasing your brow. dex had the sudden realization that expressions of pain and pleasure are nearly identical. how interesting, the human condition, he thought.
with a smirk, dex set a steady rhythm of circles against the small bundle of nerves.
"feels so good, dex, please don't stop," you whispered.
he groaned sensually, bathing in the praise, thrusting up into nothing. "yeah?"
you nodded your head, a soft sob escaping you. your nails dug into his solid biceps in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to muffle your sweet moans. his methodical fingers kept their pace, the pressure delicious on your clit. your hips stuttered as you felt a tightness build in your abdomen.
"please," you begged.
"tell me what you need, sweetheart, use those words."
"more," you said, nearly in tears, "just need moreâŚpleaseâŚ"
dex wasted no time, sliding his middle and ring finger beneath your ruined panties and deep into your desperate pussy. a gasp stole into your chest, throat turning raw. he curled his thick digits toward him, gently stroking the spongy muscle that had your back arching and eyelids fluttering again.
"yeah?" he goaded, "you like that?"
your answering, breathless "yes" made goosebumps erupt on dex's flesh. each sigh and whine from your lips erased any remaining self-doubt in this unfamiliar territory.
his warm, large palm pressed wonderfully against your aching clit, creating the perfect friction when he thrust and curled his fingers inside you. the stimulation was mouth-watering. you clung to dex's broad shoulders, nearly riding his fingers, babbling praise against his neck.
"so good, dex, p-please don't stop."
another chuckle. "i won't, baby, don't worry."
your core felt taut, as if it were an elastic band with too much tension. the pleasure had you taking down big gulps of air, discipline being the only thing standing between you and the moans that threatened to expose you both.
his fingers worked you right to the edge, then you were one, two, three strokes too close, and a panicked look crossed your features. the pressure was too much.
"it's okay." dex's lips brushed the shell of your ear as he spoke. "it's okay, honey, you can let go. you're allowed to feel good."
having permission to turn off your guilt was liberating. pleasure mounting fast like a damn ready to break, you turned your head to look him in the eye. your mouth hang open as you rode the waves of your orgasm all over his hand.
"that's it," he encouraged, voice hoarse, "keep cumming, good girl. that's it."
you didn't feel entirely in control of your own body, as if someone else were jerking your hips against the callouses of his palm. a white-hot sensation exploded within you. the high was overwhelming to your senses; the pleasure deafening. sound tuned out of your ears for a few moments as you squeezed your eyes shut, determined to not let shame ruin the moment.
dex slowed the pumping of his fingers to a halt inside you, feeling your slick walls flutter around him. he barely registered his hips thrusting in tandem with each drag of his digits. it was heavenâyour warmthâand dex wanted.
how many of his fantasies involved this? his expert fingers between your holy thighs? he may have lost count. a smirk slid onto his handsome face at the thought that it was between him and god.
he was straining painfully against his jeans' zipper, cock stiff and leaky. a shaking hand guided your smaller one to rest on his bulge. you should have known he'd be well-endowed.
"you feel what you do to me?" he whispered hoarsely.
"yes," you breathed.
his lustful gaze met yours, pupils blown so wide his eyes appeared black in the candlelight.
"can you pray for me, sweetheart? while i fuck you?"
a pathetic noise left you then; somewhere between a whine and an "uh-huh", which, in the end, sounded like a high-pitched "huh." your cheeks blazed in embarrassment, but dex was all smiles.
"yeah?" he teased, nodding as he planted kisses to your cheek.
"please," you managed, mirroring his nods. "please."
"fuck," dex cursed. he pushed his hips out, nodding encouragingly as you undid his belt buckle and zipper. he slid his jeans and boxers out from underneath him, halfway down tree-trunk thighs.
mother mary.
"you're stunning," you complimented, and it might have been a trick of the light, but you swore color reached dex's scarred cheeks. "it's true: he made us all in his perfect image, of course, but you areâŚsomething."
a coy smile met his pink lips and your heart did a flip in your chest. he wasn't used to flattery, you could see it.
frantic eyes tracked your movements as your soft hand closed around his girthy cock. your cheeks burned feeling his slight twitch at your touch. you watched pre-cum dribble down his thick shaft and swallowed the mounting spit in your mouth.
you met dex's captivating eyes once more and lifted yourself, adjusting to sit just above the tip of his cock. he kissed you with a passion you felt from the inside, hot tongue licking into your mouth. strings of wetness fell to cover him, tip teasing your clit and entrance methodically.
you felt like the whore of babylon as he parted your lips beneath your panties and pushed inside past your reborn virginity. sex in a confessional. what the hell were you thinking? god would never forgive you.
then again, he hadn't seemed to forgive you for much of anything recently. what was one more sin?
you grasped the edge of your white veil and pulled it clean off. letting it fall behind you, you leaned into dex. in turn, he sank you further down on his length, stretching you from the inside.
"dex," you whispered between sweet gasps. your fingers grazed his lips, hovering just centimeters from your own.
sweat slid down his forehead, the heat between you two in the confined space overwhelming. his mouth hanged open, cock throbbing inside you as he struggled to breathe. it struck you in that moment that you may be taking his virginity, too.
"it's okay, sweetheart," you said, pressing soft, gentle kisses to his mouth. he deserved a good first experience, too, as far as you were concerned. your hand stroked his hair on instinct as you began slowly moving your hips against his. "it's okay. it feels good for me, too."
you paused, letting him adjust to your heat. now was as good as any to pray for him, for both of you, at this point. your sweet voice was saintly in his ears:
"hail, mary, full of grace,
the lord is with thee.
blessed art thou amongst women
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, jesus.
holy mary, mother of god,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.Â
amen."
dex let out a sob as you began moving again and you slapped your unoccupied hand over his big mouth. surprise lit up his face at your aggression, reading the don't get us caught in your gaze. his dark eyes twinkled with something akin to approval. you felt the edges of his lips curl beneath your palm, so you took that as permission to do as you pleased.
and god certainly knew you would. you threw your head back, bottom lip tugged between your pearly whites, as dex bottomed out. his tip kissing your cervix, one arm slithered around your waist to pull you tight against him while his other hand rested on your hip. you lifted yourself slowly until only that aching tip remained inside, feeling the thick veins along his cock pulse. dex let out a low groan, vibrating against your hand, as you pushed back down and he hit deep inside once again. desperation knit his brows together, coloring his doe eyes something beautiful. he looked like a fallen angel; lucifer if he begged for forgiveness.
you built a gradual rhythm as you rode him. dex thought none of the church choirs in the world sounded as good as the little moans slipping out of you, the delightful harmony of wet sounds from where you two met sending shivers down his reinforced spine.
he pulled your hand away from him, only for a moment.
"this what you needed?" his deep voice was wrecked, cracking at the high point in 'need.' you felt yourself clench around his cock at the sound. "this what you meant by 'more'? just needed to get fucked?"
you nodded enthusiastically, only able to manage a quiet "mhm." your mind was as scrambled as your eggs this morning. your grip tightened in his hair as he watched you heatedly, intently, breath coming out in sharp, short pants through his straight nose.
dex craned his head, mouth meeting the spot just below your ear. "i know it feels good, babyâŚi knowâŚi know."
your arms lost their fight at his words, wrapping around his shoulders in comfort and surrender as he met your thrusts. you muffled your uncontrollable moans against the smooth skin of his neck.
"f-fuck, that's it, honey, don't stop," he whispered. "please, just don't stop."
you could only sob promises into his leather jacket that you wouldn't as you bounced up and down on him. the musky, salty fragrance of him invaded your nose and you drank it in, pressing closer like you couldn't get enough. dex found a wicked grin creeping onto his features at the pleasure you derived from his bodyâfrom him.
how many times had he not found sleep until he had a hand around himself, stroking at the thought of you and your righteousness?
his north star.
a shattered moan left him then. the poor thing so drunk on pleasure that he didn't notice how close he already was.
"shit, i'mâŚ" dex wheezed. you were nodding, grinding on the panties that bunched near your swollen clit.
"me too, dex." hearing your broken voice had him on edge.
"oh," he moaned, eyes rolling back until they closed. dex could only whisper now. "so close, so fucking closeâŚneed youâŚneed you to cum, baby."
"yeah?" you teased, echoing his tactic from earlier. he whined in response, bucking wildly, muscles flexing. your hips began to shake as that elastic sensation tightened in your core, each stroke hitting your g-spot, rubbing your clit delectably.
your fingertips sank deep into dex's arms, trying to anchor yourself to him. he welcomed the biting pain from your nails, surely leaving crescent indents beneath his shirt.
"just a little longer," you nearly wept, "you can do it."
"i-i can't," dex groaned, "'s too good."
"yes, you can," you encouraged, trailing sweet kisses up and along his strong jaw: now ticking, grinding hard in patience. if there was one thing dex was used to, it was patience. maybe he could edge himself inside you, hovering on absolute bliss, the masochism written all over his pretty face. after all, he had waited this long. dex steeled his remaining self-discipline and nodded, arms lifting your waist, up and down, just so, to hit the spot inside you hard enough to have your toes curling in your mary janes.
the sight was more erotic than dex could have ever imagined: you, hair loose on your shoulders, arms thrown around him, rosary tickling his ear, as you rode him, habit dress still on, with shaking legs, your pace becoming sloppy, and that same, beautiful look on your face as you neared orgasm once again.
"dex, i'mâŚ" you exhaled, hovering on that cliff you so desperately wanted to tumble over with him.
"that's it. go 'head, angel, cum all over me."
the filth of his words and tone of his voiceâthe raw command in itâhad your walls gushing around him instantly. dex crashed his sinful mouth to yours to swallow each others' moans as you came simultaneously. you cried out against him, pussy soaking, milking him. a warmth filled you from within, his cock throbbing while his balls emptied.
a thin layer of sweat covered you both as you fought to catch your breath. euphoria had your head in the clouds, resting your forehead gently against his. dex shuddered in your arms, his whole body twitching with pleasure. you thought he looked the most handsome like this: relaxed, without a sneer or scowl to be seen, his beautiful face free of worry.
he let out the softest of whines when you met him with a chaste kiss. your arms tightened around him, cradling his clear head gently. dex leaned into you, then, as well. his tongue explored your mouth lazily as your shaking pace slowed. the buzzing plaguing him earlier was silent now, chased away by sweet release.
dex felt obsession crawling under his skin like it was sentient. his desires were suffocating him and he could only get one thing straight: he wanted you, this, forever. he was on the divine path, now certain that you were a part of it. even better, a willing part of it.
your lips left his and pressed against his slick forehead in forgiveness.
âgod has forgiven your sins. you may go in peace.â
a low chuckle sent a shiver through you. the pleasure coursing through his veins fueled his boldness. "i ain't going anywhere, sweetheart."
the bright smile that touched your lips was undoubtedly an act of god, dex thought. he could get used to it.
a/n: hey guys i'm going to hell! pls forgive me for the amt of blasphemy. this wasn't requested i'm just a fucking freak. god 2x02 had my head SPINNING i couldn't write this fast enough but i wanted it to be Perfect, so i've been working on this for a minute. was this tew much? *elijah wood voice* maybe!
either way i hope u dexxed it. ;) #we'reback
pls lmk your thoughts! and as always, asks and requests r opennn! :)
xoxo, b
poindextergirl⢠2026. do not feed my work into ai, repost, or translate my work. reblogs are very much appreciated! âą
so grace is probably alarming to most eridians at first because he's a lanky wet alien with too few limbs, yes--but what if he ends up being terrifying in a sort of divine way instead of a repulsive one?
like. a creature that perceives the intangible? a creature that walks with thin permeable membranes bared to the air, whose blood contains elixir that can destroy pathogens without heat? a creature that is impossibly fragile yet resilient? a creature that breathes potently flammable gas to survive? a creature that is loud all over and speaks in a strange and frightening monotone, who thought it would die for you? who gave up its home in the heavens for you without meeting you first, whose first words to your people were probably something along the lines of We saved your star. It's gonna be okay. Don't be afraid.
grace, who has been alone for five minutes: oh my god. an alien! im not alone anymore! i hope he wants to be friends :)
rocky, coming up on 50 years of solitude, imprinting on grace in ways baby ducklings can only dream of: if you leave me to sleep where i can't watch your heart beat i am blowing up this tunnel with us both in it
hi, you. yeah im talking to you. You like my stuff from time to time and reblog once and a while, and I always recognize you in my notes. weâve never talked, maybe you dont like to say much or youâre nervous or something. itâs okay, whatever it is.Â
I see you. you mean a lot to me. sometimes when Iâm having a hard day, Iâll notice your name once again in my notifs and it makes me smile. im not kidding.
I donât care if youâre a âghostâ follower or you send me asks all the time. i see you and I love you so much, genuinely and truly. you are really important to me.Â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
neocities guide - why you should build your own html website
do you miss the charm of the 90s/00s web where sites had actual personality instead of the same minimalistic theme? are you feeling drained by social media and the constant corporate monopoly of your data and time? do you want to be excited about the internet again?
try neocities!!
what is neocities?
neocities is a free hosting website that lets you build your own html website from scratch, with total creative control. in their own words:
"we are tired of living in an online world where people are isolated from each other on boring, generic social networks that don't let us truly express ourselves. it's time we took back our personalities from these sterilized, lifeless, monetized, data mined, monitored addiction machines and let our creativity flourish again."
why should I make my own website?
web3 has been overtaken by capitalism & conformity. websites that once were meant to be fun online social spaces now exist solely to steal your data and sell you things. it sucks!!
building a personal site is a great way to express yourself and take control of your online experience.
what would I even put on a website?
the best part about making your own site is that you can do literally whatever the hell you want! focus on a specific subject or make it a wild collection of all your interests. share your art! make a shrine for one of your interests! post a picture of every bird you see when you step outside! make a collection of your favorite blinkies! the world is your oyster !!
here are some cool example sites to inspire you:
recently updated neocities sites | it can be fun to just look through these and browse people's content!
space bar | local interstellar dive bar
creature feature | halloween & monsters
big gulp supreme
peanutbuttaz | personal site
dragodiluna
linwood | personal site
patho grove | personal site
getting started: neocities/html guide
sound interesting? here are some guides to help you get started, especially if you aren't familiar with html/css
sadgrl.online webmastery | a fantastic resource for getting started with html & web revival. also has a layout builder that you can use to start with in case starting from scratch is too intimidating
web design in 4 minutes | good for learning coding basics
w3schools | html tutorials
templaterr | demo & html for basic web elements
eggramen test pages | css page templates to get started with
sadgrl background tiles | bg tiles
rivendell background tiles | more free bg tiles
fun stuff to add to your site
want your site to be cool? here's some fun stuff that i've found
blinkies-cafe | fantastic blinkie maker! (run by @transbro & @graphics-cafe)
gificities | internet archive of 90s/00s web gifs
internet bumper stickers | web bumper stickers
momg | gif gallery
99 gif shop | 3d gifs
123 guestbook | add a guestbook for people to leave messages
cbox | add a live chat box
moon phases | track the phases of the moon
gifypet | a little clickable page pet
adopt a shroom | mushroom page pet
tamaNOTchi | virtual pet
crossword puzzle | daily crossword
imood | track your mood
neko | cute cat that chases your mouse
pollcode | custom poll maker
website hit counter | track how many visitors you have
web revival manifestos & communities
also, there's actually a pretty cool community of people out there who want to bring joy back to the web!
melonland project | web project/community celebrating individual & joyful online experiences. Also has an online forum
melonland intro to web revival | what is web revival?
melonking manifesto |
status cafe | share your current status
nightfall city | online community
onio.cafe | leave a message and enjoy the ambiance
sadgrl internet manifesto |
yesterweb internet manifesto | sadly defunct, still a great resource
reclaiming online social spaces | great manifesto on cultivating your online experience
in conclusion
i want everyone to make a neocities site because it's fun af and i love seeing everyone's weird personal sites that they made outside of the control of capitalism :)
say hi to me on neocities
I know this is a jokey post (rip OPs notes) but a fursona is typically an animal REPRESENTATION of YOURSELF, not an external animal that is strongly meaningful to you and your life/journey.
I've seen daemon and familiar proposed, but to keep in line with the cursedness of the original post, may I suggest: spiritual tamagotchi
The funniest thing in superhero comics is not, in fact, when an outgoing writer on a title decides to break their toys by killing off the lead, and the next writer has to figure out how to bring them back.
The actual funniest thing in superhero comics is when a new writer decides to kill off the lead's entire supporting cast because they wanted to "go in a different direction", and the writer after that has to resurrect like half a dozen random people because that new direction sucked.
And like, seriously, "the lead decides to ditch everything and travel the world, only to eventually come back home hat-in-hand because it turns out they canNOT do everything on their own" is WAY funnier and also easier for the next writer to pick up after, so they should be doing THAT instead.
It's my understanding that many writers for the Big Two have developed the habit of killing off established supporting characters they're uninterested in including in their storylines as a sort of pre-emptive defence against potential editorial interference. It's not unheard-of for the editor to stick their oar in and demand that you put more focus on a supporting character who's currently dead, but it's historically rare.
It's interesting to compare this with French-language comics where often the rights to the series are tied to a publisher who will have different authors work on it over the years, but the rights for secondary characters created by that author remain with the author, which if no agreement is reached can result in an entire roster of secondary characters dropping out of existence with no explanation between two stories as the previous author leaves and takes their characters with them.
Thus the series Spirou and Fantasio's most iconic run was that of Franquin (from 1948 to 1968) (the character of Spirou was first created in 1938), who created most of the series's iconic secondary characters, including the marsupilami, their weird monkey-marsupial-like animal companion.
Then when Franquin was succeeded by Fournier, none of the secondary characters created by the former could be used, so they just stopped appearing. There was no explanation or even mention of them, the comic was now effectively taking place in a different reality with an entirely new cast of secondary characters that everyone acted as if they were already established.
Then after Fournier left in 1980, this happened again with his characters, and so the new authors Nic & Cauvin had to create again a set of secondary characters from scratch and act as if they had been there all along with no acknowledgement of previous characters.
However, when Nic & Cauvin left in 1984 and Tome & Janry took over, Dupuis managed to negotiate with Franquin (who was still alive and doing his own stuff) for the right to re-use most of his secondary characters, so at that point the comic reverted, again with no explanation, to the "classic" cast â except for the marsupilami who Franquin wanted to keep the rights of because he had his own standalone series, and would not appear in another Spirou story again except for a one-off in 2016.
okay very self indulgent but how do you think dex would react to finding out his new north star has a matching spinal scar to his? i have one from spinal fusion and a part of me thinks dex would see this as some cosmic sign
Dex Finds Out You Have a Matching Scar
TW scar fixation, body worship, suggestive, emotional codependency, worship metaphors
word count : 1.6 k (I keep getting overboard)Â
If you had a matching scar down your spine, it would absolutely rewire his brain.
And not in a cute little oh, we match way. In a Dex has discovered theology through your body way.Â
Because Dex already had that thing where, once he decided you were his person, every tiny coincidence became evidence. You liked the same song? Evidence. You ordered coffee the way he did once when he was seventeen and miserable? Evidence. You looked at him for longer than five seconds? Evidence. The universe was talking, obviously, and Dex was the only one listening hard enough.
So the first time he saw the scar running down your spine⌠Yeah. No. He would go silent.
You just finish getting changed, maybe, after a third date. Nothing explicit had happened between you more than a cute little kiss after the second date, because honestly Dex would take it at your pace. He would do whatever to get closer and closer to you, because you were his North Star! Heâd earn it.Â
Anyway, you were on your third date. You got rained on out of nowhere and your apartment was right around the corner. You'd take him there and youâd change out of your blouse to a tank top. Â
And Dex would see it when you turned around, halfway through saying something, and then heâd just⌠stop.
And then he saw your back.
That scar. And something in him just went..
Oh.
Oh, there you are.
Oh, thatâs why.
Because Dex wouldnât see it as a coincidence. Dex doesnât believe in coincidences when it comes to you. Dex believes in patterns, signs, impact points.Â
So when he saw that scar to match hisâŚÂ
It doesnât even have to be perfectly identical, maybe. But close enough. You had a mark where he had a mark. You were standing in front of him, with this healed line down your back like the universe had written mine on you in a language only he could read.
Dex would decide immediately, that God, if there is one, had gotten bored of subtlety. The universe finally looked at him and went, Fine. You want proof? Here.
And reach out, moving to stand behind you with his hand hovering over your back.
Youâd be like, âDex?â
And he wouldnât answer.
Because sorry, babe, he was busy having a spiritual crisis and an obsessive attachment episode all at once.
His fingers would touch the scar so carefully at first. Two fingers, barely there, tracing the length of it while his breath went shallow behind you. Like he was looking at proof. Like someone had handed him a religious artifact and said, see? You were never the only one.Â
Then once the shock wore off, once his brain processed that you had been marked too⌠Yeah.
Heâd get weird.
âWho did this?âÂ
And you would tell him honestly. Maybe it was a surgery, an accident. Some old thing, something boring, something interesting, whatever. You could tell him it was nothing dramatic and he would think, wrong. Nothing about you is nothing.
He would hear you. He would understand the words. And then his brain would politely throw them in the trash.
To Dex, the details would become decorative, because the origin didnât matter as much as the symbolism did.
You had a scar down your spine. He had a scar down his spine. And he was supposed to believe that you just happened to be his North Star?Â
Nope. Not a chance. This was fate.Â
That was basically marriage to him.
And youâd probably laugh awkwardly because Dex staring at anything for too long was always a little unnerving. âYou alright?â
He wouldnât answer right away. His head would be too full.
The stars would align for him.Â
This was a sign! Why else would you understand him so well? Why else would you look at him like he wasnât too much? Why else would your hand fit in his perfectly like you had been made specifically to pull him out of whatever pit he was crawling into?
Dex would absolutely decide this meant something. No, actually, he would decide it meant everything. Itâs basically the world drawing a line down your back and then drawing one down his and saying, there. Now find each other.
Heâd get so quietly insane about it too. Not in a loud way, he wouldnât start rambling. Heâd just become gentle for the rest of the night.
And then that night, you would let him sleep in your bed because a storm was brewing. And nothing really happened except for a lazy, giggly kisses, but Dex didnât mind. In fact he adores it because he was still trying to process everything.Â
And later, when you were half-asleep, youâd feel him there again, his fingertips tracing that healed lineÂ
âYou never told me,â heâd murmur.
And youâd say, sleepy, âIt never came up.â
Which would make his chest twist.
Because to you, it was just a scar. To him, it was a prophecy.
And then youâd cuddle for the rest of the night.
Dex didnât get less insane about it once the relationship became comfortable.
A year in, after every physical line and emotional line had already been crossed, after he learned by heart what you sounded like when you fell apart for him, heâd still hyperfixate on it.Â
You would have moved in together by then, which was the best decision of his life. Not only did Dex get to wake up next to your beautiful face every morning, but he also got access to all these small, domestic moments that kept making him melt.
You brushing your teeth in one of his shirts. You walking around half-asleep. You bending over the kitchen counter while your shirt rode up your ass, high enough for him to see the start of that scar.
Yeah. Good luck.
He would be behind you immediately, and he wasnât even trying to be subtle about it anymore.
Heâd have one hand on your waist. The other sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, finding the raised line of your scar like it was muscle memory. Like his hand knew the way home before his brain caught up.
And then his mouth would follow.
He would press his lips to your scar like he was trying to pray through his teeth. Every kiss had intention behind its like he was holding himself back by a thread and letting you feel every second of restraint. Heâd drag his mouth down your back so slowly it would make you forget how to breathe.
He wouldnât be saying anything at first because he would still be thinking insane shit about fate.Â
You would feel him smile against your spine and know, instantly, that he had become worse.
âDex,â youâd say, half-warning, half-laughing, because you recognised that look. And he would just hum against your skin like you had interrupted worship.
Excuse you. He was in church.
His hands would settle on your hips, not rough yet, but firm enough to remind you that he was there. That he knew you. That he had memorised you.
âYou match me,â heâd say, wild and wrecked.
And you would roll your eyes because of course he would say it like that. As if you did it on purpose. As if you went out and got yourself scarred just to complete some deranged soulmate diagram in his head.
âI didnât exactly plan it.â
âI know.â
But see, that made it better. The lack of planning only proved the point. Planned things could be fake. This simply canât be.
And oh, you loved it.
You would pretend you didnât, obviously. You would act like he was being insane. You would tell him he was reading too much into it. You would make a whole performance out of being the reasonable one in the relationship, as if you werenât just as bad, just more socially acceptable about it. Youâre just better at passing for normal in public.
But then his mouth would find your scar again and you would arch. His fingers would trace the line and you would go quiet. He would kiss lower, slower, and your little argument would die in your throat like it had never stood a chance. He would turn around and you would kiss his scar, too.Â
Because maybe he had a point.
Maybe it did mean something.
And once he noticed that you were starting to believe, there was coming back from that.
Because now the obsession had consent and symbolism, which was basically gasoline to Dex.
And youâd be like, âYou are so weird about this,â while feeling the same weirdness rub off on you, as if it was contagiousÂ
And he'd just shrug, shameless.
Dex would happily be weird about you. He would make a home in being weird about you. He would light candles in it. He would build a little cathedral inside his mind and put you at the centre of it, spine scar and all.
Anyone else would tell him that matching scars did not mean destiny.
But youâd look over your shoulder at him, all smug in the exact way he liked best, and say something awful like, âSo what, you think weâre divinely ordained now?â
And Dex would look at you like you had just handed him a loaded weapon.
âOf course,â heâd say. As if it was ever in question.
Then he would press his forehead between your shoulder blades and just breathe there, like he had found an altar.
Like every terrible thing that had ever happened to him had led to this exact moment.
To your shared bed, in your shared home
To your warm skin under his lips.
To the realisation that maybe, just maybe, he had not been made wrong.
Maybe he had been made to recognise you.
â
Note: Anon!!! This request is so special to me!! I, too, have a scar on my back, but mine is from a bodyboarding accident!! I was caught in a wipeout and my back got scraped pretty deep against a rock, and it was insane how it just dragged down almost perfectly in the middle. But yeah I never thought to write about this, so thank you for requesting. đŤś
I see all your blurb requests from this post, and keep them coming!! I will try my best to write most of them over the next few days but I might pass on a couple simply because Iâm blanking on them đ
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
One of my favorite tricks for designing alien species/cultures is to take a real animal with an interesting lifecycle and think about what that biology would translate to if they had human intelligence
Because the moths themselves donât eat and only live long enough to mate and then starve to death, the entire culture is made up of children and adolescents. The older children raise the younger ones, with families being made up of hatchmates from different years.
Because molts and eventual transformation into a short lived adult happen on a set schedule, families have a cycleâ when your oldest set of siblings cocoon to become adults, you wait at the mating grounds and try to adopt their newborns after they pass. If that fails, you take any âorphansâ you can find.
Because death and birth are nearly simultaneous, they have a religion based around reincarnation, and infants with markings similar to a parent are often given their name. Claiming the offspring of a beloved family member is vitally important, because you want to be able to protect their soul and keep them close.
Because itâs hard to track the offspring of your male family members, there are sometimes major fights when a family sees an infant with familiar markings in another familyâs clutch.
Between mating seasons, their culture is extremely food-oriented, because everyone is growing and silkworms eat nigh constantly. They spend most of their lives outdoors but sleep and shelter from bad weather in large family dwellings made from wood and the remains of the silk cocoons of prior generations.