STOP WITH THE LOGIC

Misery Loves Company. (18+)

Simon Riley, the Lieutenant... is a lonely man, his existence shrouded in a cloak of solitude as harsh as a brutal winter. The closest definition he has to a friend, has succumbed to death after a mission gone horribly wrong.

There are no living family members to confide in or visit during his deployment breaks—no home to return to. It is pathetic, truly; a lieutenant of the special forces, his wallet brimming with wealth, his bank accounts similarly bloated. Yet, he finds no comfort in material possessions. He has never been a large spender. He prefers the minimalistic; purchasing only what he needs.

“You should try it. You won’t regret it, sir,” says a cheeky, younger sergeant, smiling as he passes by Simon; his hands nonchalantly tucked in his pockets. Simon is already familiar with the suggestion.

Perhaps it would help; perhaps it wouldn’t. But it feels—pathetic—to hire a woman solely for emotional company.

He's done it now. For weeks. With the same woman.

She’s kind enough. Kind enough to take care of a pathetic, desperate, lonely man like him.

He pays her well, of course. It’s not as if he’s a man without resources. The lieutenant’s wallet bulges with a hefty stack of pounds, after all. He wouldn’t have hired her otherwise. He’s not a man of charity. There are no women like her waiting in his apartment on the other side of the base. Instead, there is a cold, empty dwelling; the furniture a few pieces of bare essentials, sparsely scattered about. He’s not a man who enjoys frivolous decorations. He pays her to act like a girlfriend, to pretend she cares for him.

“Have a decent day today!” she texts him every day, without fail.

And he knows the kindness is fake. They are words; nothing more. There is no feeling behind them, no meaning. He is not so naïve to think otherwise. She only cares because he is paying her; because he is the customer. That is all. There is nothing else to it.

“I’m off to class today. Hope you have had your breakfast already! 🤍🤍🤍!" She signs off with that. Always with a heart that follows her every message. A silly little emoji to convey affection. It is a gesture that only serves to further grate his nerves.

The lieutenant lets the phone buzz for a few more seconds, the constant ringing loud in the solitude that is his office. He pays no mind.

With a resigned sigh, he finally picks up the phone, his eyes quickly skimming through the text on the screen. He does reply this time. A simple “okay” is all he types. He doesn’t want to get attached.

That’s always his fucking fault. He’s too… paranoid. Distrustful.

He has never been close to anyone in his life. He cannot remember the last time he called anyone a true friend, save for Johnny, or the last time he allowed himself to be open to a relationship. No girlfriend. Not now, or ever before. A man like him can never afford to have something holding him down, not when what he does is too dangerous.

It is why he has been in this miserable arrangement. He cannot afford the emotions that come with a real relationship. What he has now is fine. What he does now is a simple transaction—nothing more and nothing less. But.

He needs something more. He hopes she could be… well… understanding enough.

He knows she doesn’t do sex for pay. But he hopes a few thousand pounds could sway her.

It's been a long time.

It is a desperate attempt. His body has its needs; his hormones raging from all the pent-up sexual aggression. He has been on back-to-back missions since the beginning of the year, with no downtime to relieve himself.

A few thousand pounds is nothing to him. He can afford it. He has the money to spend.

“I have an offer," he pauses, "I'll give you double your usual rate if you let me fuck you," he types, his fingers gliding across the keyboard with a cold precision.

A momentary pause lingers, and a flicker of hesitation crosses his mind. He feels a twinge of foolishness, but it quickly dissipates. Guilt is a foreign concept to him.

She hesitates, unsure of how to respond. The coldness of the situation sends a chill down her spine.

"Uh... what exact number?" she manages to type, her uncertainty palpable.

"5000 pounds," he confidently replies, his fingers dancing across the keys without a hint of hesitation. It means nothing. 5000 pounds. He can’t remember the last he spent on anything that expensive. It is pathetic; to be reduced to such a lowly beast by needs of the flesh; when he can simply relieve himself in the showers like he usually does.

The lieutenant bites his bottom lip. It is an insane gesture. He is crazy to even be willing to spend that much on such a thing..

"I'm not experienced. I'm not a skilled... professional in that regard," she confesses, her texts laced with vulnerability.

“What do you know, then?”

How many men has she been with in the past? His jaw tenses as he waits for her reply. The lieutenant does not know why he feels this sudden bout of jealousy; this sudden sense of possessiveness.

“The basics…”

“What’s the most you’ve done?” The lieutenant is tempted to add that he’s not a gentle man in the bedroom; that he wouldn’t be able to hold back on her if they were to get intimate. But. She would probably think he's insane.

“The usual. Vaginal. Hand and mouth stuff. But… I did it last 2 years ago.”

He is relieved to hear she has not had sex in a long while. His fists are clenched on the table. He hopes it wasn’t with anyone she was in a relationship with. And he’d prefer it if her past partners were nobodies; random men she’d met during a quick night out.

But that’s not the lieutenant’s business, anyway. They are not dating.

“I am… not a gentle man, darling.” He presses send; his fingers hesitating as he waits for her reply. He can feel the muscles on his shoulders tensing.

“It’s fine with me…” She was shitting bricks at the moment.

“Come to the hotel after your class.” He adds.

Now, she finds herself in the dimly lit confines of the hotel bedroom, the air heavy. Tension hangs in the atmosphere, as if the very room itself holds its breath. Her naked form lies before him, vulnerable and exposed.

It's a cheap hotel room, the one they frequent. The kind soldiers use on their leave-out days when they get too frisky with their hired company. The bed is old and creaks with every slight movement, its springs and mattress squeaky and worn. The carpet, once plush, is now threadbare and stained, bearing the marks of countless forgotten nights.

It is an insane gesture. The lieutenant can’t remember the last time he had someone like this in his bed. The last time he got out of a long dry spell. What he has with her is a contract; a business transaction. This is not love. There is no love between them. The lieutenant does not know why he even feels a little guilty. But. He quickly pushes the thoughts away. No need for them.

She nervously toys with her lower lip, her gaze locked on him as he slowly undresses.

He is large. His shoulders are broad and thick. His hands, capable of ripping a man’s head off bare handed. He’s not the gentle type. Or the tender type. He’s far from that.

He is all muscle. And it is obvious he works out. His body is all solid muscle; his body littered with old scars and new bruises from past missions.

“Can… can you be careful at first?”

He nods. “I’ll be careful,” he says. He doesn’t know why he’s going so gentle with her. He doesn’t know why he’s even indulging her now, considering how much he’s paid her to have her tonight. But he cannot stop.

It’s awkward. He is a stranger to her. They are not close like a boyfriend and girlfriend. He doesn't know her—or how much she has let other men do to her.

But it feels like she’s known him for a long time. Maybe it’s the way this connection between them is mutual; how they are both desperate for each other in this twisted little way.

Maybe it’s the thrill of it. The cheapness of it… the fact that they’re strangers doing this to each other. The way the bed creaks under their weight.

She feels his length between her legs, a moment of anticipation that hangs heavy in the air. With closed eyes, she surrenders herself to the sensations, her breath hitching in response. He isn't known for his gentle touch, not even with women. The coldness of his demeanor is unwavering, yet there's a nagging feeling deep within him that defies reason.

She is a stranger, an enigma to him. To treat her as if she were the love of his life would be absurd, and yet, a strange sense of protectiveness tugs at his heart. It compels him to take care of her, to protect her in this moment of vulnerability. Her hands grip the bedsheets tightly, her head tilting back, exposing her delicate neck.

"Relax," he whispers quietly, his voice barely audible. His eyes remain fixed on her, absorbing every detail, every reaction. She appears so small beneath him, a precious creature in his eyes. Her beauty captivates him, fueling his desire to possess her.

"Yeah… I will," she responds, her voice laced with a mix of anticipation and a hint of discomfort. Her body tenses as he slowly enters her, stretching her to accommodate his eager cock. A whispered praise escapes his lips, his grip on her wrists firm as he locks them together, pinning them above her head. His fingers coil around her slender wrists, exerting his dominance. His free hand reaches up, gently brushing strands of hair behind her ear, a tender gesture in contrast to the intensity of their exchange.

Soft cries escape her lips, a symphony of pleasure and surrender. He revels in the tightness that surrounds him, relishing in the sensation of her warmth engulfing him. His lips graze the sensitive skin of her ear, his voice a low rasp against her flesh. "You're so tight around me, darling," he murmurs, his breath tickling her. He buries his face in the curve of her neck, his teeth applying a gentle pressure, marking her as his own.

She sinks her teeth into her lip, the force causing it to split, mingling the taste of metallic blood with the thick, heady air. Every twitch, every subtle movement of her body, sparks a surge of tension coursing through his veins.

"Fuck... you feel so damn incredible, darling," he grunts, his voice dripping with a frigid intensity.

He tucks her legs up to her chest, exposing her throbbing cunt to his hungry gaze. With a primal instinct, he plunges his thick cock deeper inside her, feeling a hitch in his breath as the sensation overwhelms him. It's been far too long since he's felt this level of pleasure, and it ignites a fire within him.

"Sweet lord..." he whispers, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and dark desire. He releases her wrists, wrapping his arms around her petite form, pulling her closer against him.

She curls her fists, her knuckles turning white as she punches the mattress in response to the powerful intrusion. Her body trembles under the force of his relentless thrusts, each one pushing her closer to the edge of ecstasy. The vulgar bulge on her small tummy, sends a shiver of arousal down his spine.

And he should feel shame. He should feel disgusted at the obscene, vulgar display they both have going on right now, the way they’ve lost total control over their senses and instincts, their bodies lost in pleasure and passion.

But he does not feel shame. After making them both come undone, they lay spent on the creaky mattress. The lieutenant stares up at the ceiling, a strange sense of clarity washing over him. He glances at her. She is curled up to his side, her breath still rapid and erratic. She turns her back to him.

She feels dirty. Disgusting. He doesn't know why he feels a sting as he watches her turn away. The lieutenant watches her silently, feeling a protective instinct resurface. The overwhelming desire to reach out and wrap his arms around her, to pull her closer.

She lays there in shock.

She told herself this would never, ever happen. He doesn’t know why he feels such a strong desire to tell her it’s okay, that it’s going to be alright. He tells himself he does not know her, does not feel anything for her. But deep down, he knows it is a lie. He does know her, and he does feel something for her. And for the first time, his instinct and emotions overpower logic and common sense. The lieutenant takes her into his arms.

He hears her deep breathing. "I’m here, darling. I’m here," he whispers as he holds her close, feeling her heart racing against his chest. "I’m here, darling. I’m here," he whispers again, sensing her struggle to hold back tears. "Shh… it’s okay." He runs his fingers through her hair soothingly, holding her tighter. "You’re safe with me, darling. I’ve got you."

So I had to repeat my physics project because my entire map was wrong 😄 thankfully my friend pre-checked it 😁

Hi. It’s Lair3n and I’ve decided to rebrand completely! I have temporarily abandoned this blog as I was irresponsible and crammed my way through the semester not suggested but hey! I’m back and I’ve decided to make a promise to myself that I, in fact will be consistent with my blogging! ✨🧚‍♀️🍃

Anywho, I’ll be changing my username from @lair3n to @solasanctuary

I’ll keep my old PAC’s here but I’ll extend this blog through instagram, twitter and facebook soon! I’ll be encoding my linktree here as well. 🌝🌺

I’m so excited that I get to immerse myself in my hobbies again!

As always, have an amazing day/night wherever you are! 🤍🧚‍♀️✨

“Four thousand years ago, in the ancient Near East, women were poets, drummers, scholars, dancers, healers, prophets, and keepers of sacred space… From Enheduanna the poet-priestess of ancient Sumer to the oracle at Delphi, from the weavers of Athena in Greece to the prophetesses of Hathor in Egypt, from the vestal virgins of Rome to the drumming-priestesses of Crete, from the bee-priestesses who served Demeter to the warrior-priestesses of Scythia, women were facilitators of the connections between human and divine. This has been true all over the world in all times.”

— Rabbi Jill Hammer, PhD, The Hebrew Priestess

I hope I find someone that loves me the same way Stephen Colbert loves his wife ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

[Important Update 10/05/2024]

TLDR: Please help a trans disabled venezuelan person of color help their father appeal for an USA parole so the economic crisis doesn't eat their asses alive

[alt title: Maduro bastardo vas a caer imbécil]

I speak from complete honesty when I say that I wish I didn't have to come to this, but the situation here due to the economic crisis seems to just get worse each day, and we strongly fear that regardless of the outcome of either country's elections around the corner, the possibility to leave to the USA and work for a better situation than here will be cutted entirely from our possibilities. This week I spoke longly with my father and we got to the conclusion of saving and helping as much as everyone can to help him appeal for a parole, stay with trusted relatives in Miami, and work to help things over here a little better.

I'm currently working trying to keep things at bay as much as possible. But my relatives at Miami estimate that in order for my father to emigrate safely we'll need At least 8 Thousand, not to mention all the external spends in basic services, food, and others in the meantime we save as much as possible to help him move in the nearest future before the elections of either country

Because of this. Along with any donations anyone wishes to make, I'm currently offering semi-traditional doodles in this rendering style at $30

You have no idea how much anyone helps by even simply sharing this post as much as possible, thinking on the future has been really exhausting and I'm open to working for anything in order to disperse my mind. I hope I explained myself as best as I could, if anyone has any doubts then please don't doubt in contacting me through DMs or Ask prefferible to avoid bot flagging.

PPAL

KO-FI

( $30 / $10000 )

(Original post before date under readmore)

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Well hey there! I used to be ghonrenoki but either the growt in traction or the high amount of ask and messages flagged my past blog as a robot :^)

I'm a venezuelan disabled trans artist still in urgent financial help over here. I don't want to repeat myself of be too personal, but essentially our car's wheels broke and we now have a new urgent thing to assist, so that's why after consulting friends and clients I elevated a little the goal and comm prices.

If you have the chance, please consider making a donation, buying a commission, or just helping me by rebloging this post is more than enough! <3

Ko-fi

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Become a supporter of Renori today! ❤️ Ko-fi lets you support the creators you love with no fees on donations.

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I love being educated. I love learning & finding new things that intrigue me. I love knowing my brain is inevitably growing.

nana ou-yang by yu cong for dazed china / hair by bon fan zhang & makeup by xin miao

Essentialism, Greg McKeown

Be highly selective. Don’t attend meetings when you have nothing to contribute, don’t read newsletters if you already know or if it doesn’t really matter to you. Stop moving an inch forward in a million different directions and start gaining momentum in getting one major thing done.

Pursue less but better in a disciplined way

Warren Buffet owes 90% of his wealth to just 10 investments

On trade offs: don’t ask ‘what do I want to give up?’ ask ‘what do I want to go big on?’

Less, but better : if trying to start a journaling habit, start by always writing less than you want to. Usually, on the first day, you’ll write many pages, and then you’ll quickly start to dreading having to write so much. Until you’ve made journaling a habit, write very little.

Your strategy can’t be “pretty clear”. Anyone who wears glasses knows there is a difference between “pretty clear” and “really clear”.

Learn the art of the slow yes and the quick no

Beware the sunk cost bias: continuing something we would otherwise move on from, simply because we have already invested time or money in it. It’s a vicious cycle

To attain knowledge, add things everyday. To attain wisdom, subtract things everyday. - Lao Tzu

Cues are essential in making routines smoother: if you charge your phone each night and you’d like to start journaling, put your journal right by your charger

Tackle your routines one by one: to get big results, we must start small

Eat mindfully. Live in the moment

Check in often to ensure meaningful progress