damn, now blocked by age
They should put her album cover behind age verification. It’s horrifying.
Some red room shit yeah
Good competition for The Scorpions and Virgin Killer.
(I’m not posting that under current laws in my jurisdiction: not many things overstep the mark in my world, but that cover does)
What a fucking bummer fascism raping the west has been. I can’t do SHIT over here either.
The left will be lapping the balls of the tech oligarchs who are driving all that so little hope power shift here helps much.
It amuses me how we must crack down on every form of sexual activity online but when it comes to important people ACTUALLY fucking kids, that’s A1 ok.
I still can’t view the fanfic
I’ve been trying the past 8 hours
The piano bench was the wrong kind of hard, but Tiffany didn’t care. She’d played Rachmaninoff’s Third to a full hall that afternoon, and now, alone in the rehearsal studio with the upright against the wall and the door locked, she was about to learn a different kind of performance art.
Her first facial was going to be a duet, and she’d spent weeks making sure the sheet music was right.
She’d stretched for an hour. Not fingers — she’d learned that lesson. She lay back on the rug, hips propped on a folded duvet, and drenched herself in enough silicone lube that it pooled on the hardwood and glistened under the studio lamp. The bottle cost more than her lesson fees. So did the bottle after it.
Her hand entered slowly, two fingers first, tracing the entrance until it stopped treating her like a threat. Then a third. The stretch was wide, warm, honest, and a sound she’d never made before came out of her — not a moan, a long pianissimo that she’d have to practice dynamics on. She guided the hand deeper, knuckles kissing the inner muscle, and felt it clench around the fist like a question.
“Good,” she told herself. “Resolve it.”
The next inch was the part everyone lies about. It was a hot, full pressure, a deep stretch that went past sensation into pure nerve endings screaming more, more. She breathed in the way her teacher had taught her — low, slow, diaphragm — and let the clench go slack so the wrist could slide past. The first full fist sank home and she gasped, nails scoring the rug. It wasn’t pain, exactly. It was her body being remapped in real time, every stretch sending a bright line of feeling up to her sternum.
She didn’t stop there. It was her first, not her last.
The second fist came in while the first held the passage open, and the fullness of it was almost a thought — so much of her that she forgot her own name. Both hands, knuckles flush against her, filling her to the cervix, and the muscle between them worked in slow, involuntary waves. Each time she clamped down, the fists spread her walls from the inside and the pleasure was so dense and bright it had a color, white and gold, like a sustained high C with the hall doors flung open.
She came on his face.
It started as a pressure behind her eyes, a tremor running down her spine, and then it just broke. Her first facial was a long, full, involuntary flood — her body emptying against the skin in wave after wave, hot and steady, while the fists worked her from the inside and she rode each contraction with her eyes shut, hair fanned out on the rug, mouth open on a sound that was no longer music in any recognizable key. She came for a full minute. When it finally thinned, she lay shivering, soaked, ruined in the most wonderful way, her body twitching with aftershocks that the fists met with patient, slow circles.
She should have stopped there. She should have cleaned up, made tea, gone to bed.
Instead, she went to the aquarium room, where the big tank held Architeuthis dux — or at least, one of her sources called him that. He was eight feet of blue-black muscle and intelligence, a cathedral of suckers lined with teeth, and he had been waiting for her with what she could only describe as anticipation.
The water in the tank was warm, and she’d brought her lube, which was probably the only sane thing she’d done in an hour.
He came out of the deep slow, a slow tide of tentacles, and when they found her, she laughed — a real laugh, delighted, half-terrified. Two of them, thick as her forearm, curled around her hips, and their suckers were warm and listening, reading the tension of her body with a precision no human hand had managed. The others followed. She was held in a cage of them, lifted, arranged. One coiled around her thigh with the tenderness of a lover, another traced the column of her spine, and she felt herself being understood — mapped, held, known in a way that was intimate without being human at all.
The one that went inside was the thickest of them, and it came with the same slow, patient pressure as the hand before, but it moved with her. Every clench was met with a curl of the sucker-crowns, a tightening that answered her instead of just receiving. She’d never been inside a creature that responded. She’d never been inside anything that responded. The difference was the difference between playing a note and hearing an answer.
She came on him mid-thrust of tentacle, and this time she wasn’t alone in coming.
It happened in the water, a bright, pulsing flood — and as her body emptied, the squid’s siphon opened and released in perfect counterpoint, a deep blue plume shooting through the tank in long, spiraling columns that swirled around them both, wrapping her in cold silk. They squirts together, human and cephalopod, her flood and his plume mixing in the water until the whole tank ran milky blue and she floated in it, laughing, held by a dozen arms that did not know what hands were and somehow understood better than any hand ever had.
Afterward, she sat in the studio with her hair full of salt water and the rug a lake of lube and two kinds of release, and she played. The Chopin Nocturne in C-sharp minor, badly, with tears, because it was the only piece left that fit.
I dun read any of that but probably same.
What the fuck
Probably better den da original
original was by tom
Holy balls, just set up Strata and the Qwen Flash model. Fast as shit somehow.
Open source local gonna save humanity.
Hahahaha